At two bells of the middle watch, the captain relived the first mate of his watch. He looked up in surprise as she tapped his shoulder and announced the change.
"Thank you, Eve." He murmured as he tipped his hat and headed back down to his bunk. She nodded in acknowledgement, before checking the binnacle.
The captain settled herself in place, legs spread to balance on the softly rolling deck, arms folded behind her. All was in order and it looked to be a rather uneventful watch. Eve allowed her mind to wander to the events of earlier that day. The battle, the sound of the guns and the smell of fear and smoke. The way her pulse quickened and blood pounded through her veins. The look on Captain O'Quinn's face as she leapt aboard, sword drawn, hair blowing around her as she took command of the deck. His deck. The feeling of driving her sword through him to the hilt. Watching him die at her feet. Taking his sword.
She couldn't help but allow herself a small smile. It had been a good victory. But then her mind wandered to another thought. She remembered watching his lips form a word as he lay at her feet. Yvaine. It was a name she'd not heard in many, many years. Unbidden, another memory came to the forefront of her mind.
"Yvaine! Yvaine! How beautiful thou art! Oh how my soul cries out the name of my one true love, my fair Yvaine!" The young man crowed. The slight, raven haired girl beside him giggled.
"James! Really? Is that necessary?"
"Oh but for you my heart beats and my lungs draw breathe. I must proclaim you to the seas!" The man laughed, spinning around on the ship's deck. The girl pulled his arm, leading him away from the railing.
"All right, my love, my strong man. You have proclaimed my fairness enough." The young woman looked into his eyes, her soft smile calling to him like a siren's song, her lips begging for his attentions. She seemed to read his mind, as she tilted her face upward, pressing her lips to his…
Phillip lay quietly in the cabin beneath the captain's feet. He too, was lost in thought. His thoughts strayed to Syrena once more. He couldn't help but wonder where she was, and if he'd ever see her again. He sighed as he rolled over and tried to shove the thoughts of her to the back of his mind. Gradually his thoughts changed to his strange new captain.
He'd never seen a lady captain before. He'd heard tales of course, but had never met a woman who led a ship. She did not seem like a likely captain either. She was frail and slight, maybe a half a head shorter than he. Raven wing hair flowed about her, yet she seemed to shirk all feminine dignity, instead preferring to wear trousers and loose shirts like her crew.
He was sure he'd never met her before, yet Phillip couldn't shake the feeling that he had, or maybe someone quite similar. Grunting in frustration, he rolled back over and punched the pillow into a fluffier shape. He dropped his head heavily onto the pillow, wincing as his wounded temple struck the bed. After many nights that he spent in a hammock, swaying with the ship's motion, he just couldn't get used to the rolling motion that came with sleeping in a bed. Much less the captain's bed, with her scent still remaining on the pillows. Phillip groaned and rolled onto his back, staring at the decking overhead until his eyes drifted shut and he fell into a deep sleep.
Philip was rudely awakened by the slam of the cabin door. He lay there with his eyes closed, trying to fall back asleep. Sleep had decided to flee him completely, though, as he listened to the tap of the captain's boots, the scrape of a chair being pulled out, and the swish of her coat as she sat. A flint struck and an oil lamp flared to life, throwing eerie shadows across the walls. The distinct sound of parchment unrolling reached Philip's ears, followed by the soft clicks and clinks of measuring instruments and the scratching of a pencil. She began to sing softly to herself as she worked.
The music of it washed over Philip, wrapping him up, filling him, drowning him. He sat up abruptly, gasping for a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The song cut off abruptly as the captain turned curiously.
"Did I disturb you?" She asked, shifting in her seat. Philip shook his head, unable to say anything.
"Is there something you wish to say?"
"You-you're… you're not what you… what you look like… are you?" Philip managed to choke out.
She laughed. It was the sound of pealing bells. "No, I suppose I'm not. Do you know what I am?"
"Mermaid." Philip whispered. He felt beads of sweat break out across his brow.
"Yes." She nodded, "That is true."
"But… how…?" He stammered.
"You talked to Captain O'Quinn, yes? Doubtless you heard the story—it's one of his favorites. Though he tells it differently than I would, I must say."
Philip looked hard at her, trying to understand. Something clicked and his eyes widened.
"Yvaine…" He whispered. She smiled, almost sadly.
"Yes, that was my name many years ago, when I met him. He was just a plain, able-bodied seaman then. It was, oh, maybe forty, no, forty-five years ago?" Yvaine tilted her chair back on two legs, swaying with the ships motion.
"I-I don't understand."
"No, I don't suppose I do, either. See mermaids, they're immortal. They choose when they die. They don't age, either. But, like all living things, things that put strain on them can, in fact, age them, until they have only the lifespan of a normal human being. Certain emotions can do this. Unnatural emotions." She paused to think, her chair teetering dangerously far back.
"What sort of emotions?" Philip prompted. His thoughts were on Syrena.
"Unnatural ones. Well, unnatural to us. We understand and display hatred, jealousy, lust, anger… all of those just fine. It's the nicer ones that strain us. Kindness, compassion, joy… love. Those age us. Only when the emotion is no longer felt, does the mermaid stop aging."
"What happened to you and Captain O'Quinn? What is your story?"
"Oh, it's a long one, it is. We met off the coast of what humans call Brazil. It was love at first sight. We agreed to meet again when the ship was in port. I would come on land for him, and he would desert. We would runaway together. And we did. I had his child, though neither he nor the child knows. James left me before the child was born. I gave him away, said I would come and get him when he was older." She looked fondly out the cabin window onto the deck, where the first mate was standing.
"Did you ever find your child?"
"Yes, yes I did. Though he doesn't know it. When he was sixteen, I came back, found him working at a tavern, slopping the pigs and cleaning stalls. I offered him the chance of a lifetime—to sail on a pirate, to be rich and never hungry again. He took it, of course, and I've been able to watch him for the past thirty years."
"Thirty years? Has he noticed that you never age?"
"Oh, but I do. As long as I still held some emotion towards his father, I aged. Maybe not as quickly, but I do. He does know part of my secret, though." Yvaine smiled smugly.
"Captain?" Philip started hesitantly.
"Yvaine is fine for private quarters, Mr. Swift."
"Philip." He corrected, before continuing. "If love ages a mermaid… is there any set rate at which they age?"
"No. It depends on how much they care about the person they love, and on each mermaid. Kinder mermaids age slower. I was not kind."
"Thank you, Yvaine, for telling me." Philip murmured, before rolling over, his thoughts far away and with his own mermaid.
