Unaware that he had even fallen asleep, he awoke with a start, gaping for breath he didn't know he needed. "Huh? What? Whas'sat…" he groaned, and when his eyes opened completely he gasped in shock. "Blistering barnacles! What in the world?!"

The last thing he remembered was taking a swig of whiskey back on his proud merchant ship, Karaboudjan. Granted, his memory tended to be less than ideal these days, but still he figured he'd remember something like this happening!

He glanced around frantically. Where was his ship? Where was his crew? Where was his whiskey, by thunder!? All he could see was water and rocks and debris. His head was swimming, and apparently the rest of him had been too—he was soaking wet from head to toe.

"Th-th—ten thousand thundering typhoons! Where in blazes am I?"

"Shhhhh," came an unfamiliar, yet soothing, voice from behind him.

When he turned his head around again, he found what looked at first to be another man. But upon closer inspection, he saw that was not the case after all. The being had the head and torso of a young human male…but below his waist was a long, fishlike tail, patterned with shimmering scales in brilliant blues, greys, and golds that continued along his spine. He had dazzling silver eyes and a coy little smile on his round face. He looked as if he had stepped—or swam, rather—right out of a children's storybook.

"Wh—wh-who are you?" the sailor stammered, in simultaneous fear and awe. All the legends he had heard for as long as he could remember, that he had dismissed time and again, had manifested themselves before him. How was one supposed to react to something like that?

There was a brief silence, and then the mer-creature replied to his inquiry in that same honey-smooth voice. "Tintin, I'm called."

Tintin, the man repeated to himself. Tintin. The name suited him, somehow. It was almost musical, like the chime of a small bell.

"And you?" The being—Tintin—leaned in toward the sailor. He lifted the man's chin and peered into his eyes. "Who might you be?"

The man had no real reason to divulge anything about himself to this Tintin creature, and yet he felt compelled to obey his every word. "Ah, I'm called…er, H-Haddock," he stuttered. "Archie—Archibald Haddock. That's me."

"Haddock? Like the fish, haddock?"

Was that amusement in Tintin's eyes? Was he mocking him? How dare he!

And yet…and yet…those eyes…that voice…

"Are you a mermaid?" Haddock blurted out after a moment.

To that, Tintin's response was true laughter. He threw his ginger-tufted head back as high-pitched, melodious laughter echoed around the small cove surrounding them.

"A mer—" The word was broken up by more chuckles. "A mermaid? Heavens no." Tintin sat himself up taller. "For one thing, I'm not a female. And furthermore, I'm not simply a playful, carefree little nymph; I have much greater powers to my name. I am what you land-folk would call a siren."

"You're a siren," Haddock breathed, and suddenly, everything began to make some sort of sense, right down to that enchanting voice.

"So," he said tentatively, "you did this to me."

Tintin—the siren—tilted his head slightly, indicating he wanted Haddock to go on.

"My ship…my crew…it's all…"

"Gone," Tintin affirmed. "All lost, all fallen under my spell. Yourself included, until I saw you were alive…and, well, I became curious…"

Now, Archibald found he was hardly listening to those silky words. His mind was reeling. "How…how did I not notice? I'm the Karaboudjan's captain, by thunder! I should have—"

"You were the captain of that ship?" That statement brought a note of surprise into Tintin's voice. "Then why weren't you at the head?…You should have been the first one I saw, the first one to succumb to my spell!"

"Nah, I've been alone in my cabin for days. Allan—my first mate, he's called Allan—he's taken over things recently, and, well, you see…"

Haddock—Captain Haddock—trailed off, and his eyes widened as he realized just what that might mean.

"T-Tintin?"

"Hmm…yes?"

"I think you might have saved my life."

"Well, I do believe I did indeed save your life. You would have drowned if I left you in the water, that's simple fact."

"No." The man shook his head. "Not just that. It's my crew. They…they took over my ship and left me to wither away in my cabin with my bloody whiskey. The scoundrels, they tricked me! I can't even begin to imagine what they must have been plotting! The rats! Malingerers! Iconoclasts!" He shook, the revelation almost too much for him to bear.

"Tintin?" he mumbled again.

"Yes…Captain?"

The use of the title, combined with a cheeky grin, sent chills throughout Haddock's body. Tintin was incredibly alluring, and seemed to know his every weak spot. It was all he could do to keep speaking.

"I know sirens are supposed to be monsters," he said, "and as far as I know, you're about to eat me or something…but right now it's because of you that I'm safe. Tintin…by destroying everything I held dear, you saved my wretched old soul."

There was a drop in Tintin's serene composure; he looked a bit taken aback at that. Haddock could imagine that the concept of a siren saving a sailor was just as alien to him.

"I have to thank you," Archibald went on. "At least for now. Do whatever you wish with me later, I—eh?"

Haddock broke off as a soft hand gripped his, and a shining tail began to encircle his body. Within seconds, he was wrapped in what could only be referred to as some sort of embrace.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Tintin?"

The siren leaned in again until their noses were nearly touching.

"You're welcome," Tintin whispered, with a smile that, somehow, seemed sincere this time.