A/N: I did not make up the Finfolk.
I read about them years ago on the Orkneyjar website and it turns out they're as much a myth as selkies and mermaids. Until coming across the article on the website, I'd never even heard of them and thought that they might fit into this story.
Also, "frilly guppy" is meant to indicate a leafy sea dragon. I don't think the crew would call the creature by its name, so I chose something more derogatory. XD

The Calling

Many strange places and peoples inhabited the underwater world that I had neither seen nor heard of until living on the Dutchman.

Quite aside from the supernatural tales that had been spun about sea serpents, bottomless pits that led to other worlds, and vicious, gargantuan leviathans, I'd heard stories about selkies, naiads, and sea sprites - enough to keep my imagination churning for weeks on end.
It wasn't the first time I'd noted how accurately the crew were able to remember such fisherman's tales, and yet could not remember even the simplest things from their past. It was true that occasionally some of them recalled snippets from their life as a human, but the recollections came very seldom and were hazy, at best.
This began to ring true for me, as well.

There were things I simply couldn't remember, but felt intensely that I should have.
Some evenings, I would spend my entire period of leisure time trying to bring back a certain memory that I know shouldn't have been that hard to recall. I'd sit on a barnacle-encrusted barrel, pensive, chin in my hand, staring at nothing in particular and trying as hard as I possibly could to pinpoint that unreachable thought; the one that clawed desperately at the back of my mind. It was only a matter of very little time before memory after memory lost its grip and plummeted into the lake of forgetfulness.
The guttural murmurings of the crew swept over me, unaffected; shouts and scuffles mingled with the air, escaping my notice entirely. Shapes would pass by, stop in front of me, envelop me in the heavy scent of rum and saltwater. I'd look up, staring but unseeing, watching tendrils and clam shells popping out of eye sockets and invisible mouths. It was only after they had gone that I was aware a question had been directed at me.

"Damn well touched, she is," I heard one say, tapping the side of his head. Laughter followed.
The jab slid off like water. I didn't care if I was touched or not. We'd been underwater for a full month; should they have expected anything less than madness to ensue?

Sometimes when we were submerged, we remained poised on the ocean floor for long periods, biding our time, tending to the ship, waiting for a passing vessel to wreak havoc upon.
But there were times when the Dutchman actually sailed underwater, spurning herself onward and onward through the smothering, salty depths. The noise alone was bone-chilling, feeling the ship shudder and vibrate like some colossal beast being woken from its sleep, and the deeper-than-deep groan she would emit as she was compelled forward by the will of the captain. All was darkness and noise and tons and tons of water coming at you like a wall, threatening to crush you against the slats, or worse, careening off the ship and into the darkness.

Though my senses were filled to the brim with the sensation of the experience, it defied logic and reason, and somehow I always felt more like I was in a living nightmare. Surely none of it could be real.
...The problem was, I had yet to wake from the dream...
It wasn't hard to see what drove the crew to such cruelty and madness. Even if they weren't cursed, they would have stayed the same heartless, bloodthirsty beings they were now. Who could endure an existence filled with so much unnatural transformation, so much crushing darkness and never-ending labor?
Yes, I understood what made them as wretched as they are. As I said, I myself was nearly driven to my wit's end by the insanity of it all.

As it happened, the captain had a very particular destination in mind as we sailed over the ocean floor for league upon league.
I clung to a small pillar, ignoring the oddities boring into my arms, and closed my eyes until I felt the ship begin to tilt upward.
Tanger, who was more used to traveling underwater, cautiously approached me, grabbing onto what he could to steady himself.

"How are you, Chainer?" He set a hand on the pillar.

I nodded. "Fine. Doing fine. Just waiting until it's over."

He returned the nod, and said, "Got an interesting bit of news. The captain's meeting up with a pirate ship, but not to attack." I looked at him. He continued, "Launch told me this morning that the captain received a Calling."

I gave him a look. "What did Launch demand in return for you to know that, your soul?"

He chuckled, glanced up toward the deck. "I reckon we'll be within range of it before the day's up." He glanced at me. "Should be interesting to see what type'a business plays out this time."

I mulled over what he said, trying to remember the last time the captain had received a Calling, as it was known.
Bootstrap had explained it to me before: some pirates and sailors were able to summon Davy Jones in order to propose a wager with him. That was how his previous captain, Jack Sparrow, had acquired The Black Pearl. I had no idea exactly how these summons were made. I don't think even Bootstrap knew. But somehow it could be managed, and that's exactly why the captain was on our current errand. The captain had many abilities that even the crew knew nothing about.

Tanger's assumption was correct: before the end of the day, the captain had the ship surface, and it didn't take us long to locate the speck on the horizon what could only be the vessel that carried the one who summoned him.

This was a new turn for me, as the only times we had ever encountered another ship was to attack or raid it. Even with his dealings with Captain Delatorre, Davy Jones had resorted to violence and treated him as though he were merely another victim. The fact that they'd had some kind of deal didn't make any difference at all.
Naturally, I was intensely curious as to how the current venture would turn out - whether this new face would end up just another victim, or if the captain would let them off after the deal had been struck.

The sun was inching toward the horizon as we continued our course. A thin layer of clouds blanketed the sky, blurring the fading light and casting a dull glow on the water.
I was scraping barnacles and muscles below deck, occasionally glancing out the porthole at sea and sky. The thudding footsteps of the crew above was incessant as we neared our target. I could tell the others working alongside me were curious, too, as even they would pause in their work to steal a quick glance out at sea, trying to get a view of the ship we were approaching. The crew, in general, seemed maliciously excited at the prospect of having received a Calling.

When we slowed our pace, I knew the time had come: we were within range of the ship, and at any minute, the captain would board the vessel with his crew and confront the stranger who had need of him. The voice of Davy Jones, filled with unmistakable authority, cut through the buzzing crowd like a knife. Even those of us below deck flinched at his barking command, and on impulse we doubled our speed and effort.
More footsteps, shouting, murmuring, cackling, as they departed the ship and arrived on the other one. The creaking wood and lapping water seemed loud in the absence of so many voices.

Our work didn't cease, but of course my mind raced with curiosity and wonderment as to what was going on. I hadn't heard anyone mention the name of the ship, nor its captain.
Knowing that Davy Jones wasn't around, I glanced at the man scraping the deck several feet away from me - a young one who was something like our cabin boy, having slowly accumulated masses and masses of coral and mussels all over his body. His arms were adorned in a strange manner of fins that I'd heard one of the crew refer to as a "frilly gruppy," no doubt in scorn. His voice was the only indication of his age.

I inched closer to him and asked in a low voice, "Did you hear mention of the ship's name?" There was no need to explain which ship.

He regarded me with his normal eye. "I've 'eard the crew mention a name - Jarra de Sirena."

"Spanish," I murmured. "Another Spanish barge...interesting."

He nodded, having caught my words. "Say the captain's name is Andreas."

"How is it you've heard this?" I wondered yet again if Launch was somehow involved, but he said with a sheepish shrug:

"I go prowlin' about after hours. The crew spill things when they're crocked and all."

I hummed thoughtfully, wondering if I was missing out by not spending as much leisure time around the crew as I could.
We said no more to each other for a good while, yet I began to feel the makings of dangerous curiosity rising up in me - the same monster that had gotten me into trouble when I came across the mirror in the floorboard.
I sighed, I murmured, I stretched my arms. I leaned up to view the progress, noting that we'd made it toward the wall and still had over half the cabin to clear. I glanced at the young man.

"You don't think…" I hesitated. "There's any way to find out what the captain is saying to Andreas, do you?"

He looked at me. "Not w'thout gettin' your hide tanned."

I bit my lip, and went back to work. He was right, of course. Yet I hoped that this incident wouldn't turn out like our business venture with Carlos Delatorre. I never did find out what the negotiation between him and Davy Jones was all about - only that he'd angered the captain, and had paid with his life and the lives of his crew.

Eventually the captain returned with the rest, as could be gathered from the surplus of voices on deck and the harsh orders spewing forth. Once again, those of us scraping the floors bent our heads protectively to the task and gave every impression of having worked dreadfully hard.
Not ten minutes after they made it back, the ship heaved very slightly and was underway yet again. My heart rate went up; I wondered if at any moment we would turn about and attack, but the moment never came.
On and on we went, and eventually I went on deck (under the pretense of retrieving another spade) and surreptitiously scanned the surroundings. The Jarra de Sirena was nowhere in sight.
I felt relieved as I headed back to my duties. It appeared that the captain was finished with his business on the other ship and that, miraculously, he wasn't going to engage in battle.

But there was still the question of why the captain had engaged in a bargain; what profit he could have received from it, and what the Calling meant. As such, when evening came, I followed the cabin boy's example and reluctantly mingled with the crew in the best way I knew how. Some were sitting around on barrels or standing by, idly mending their weapons or watching the drinking game a small group was partaking in.
Launch was by the quarter deck with several others. He was scraping barnacles from one of his daggers, idly exchanging conversation.
I knew Tanger was below deck seeing to a broken beam. He had possessed some carpentry skills in his past life and had been ordered to take a look at the slab of wood for repair.
Bootstrap sat near the group situated on the main deck, sharing occasional conversation with Clanker. They and the rest were observing the game, as there was not much else to do.

In all, I wasn't sure who to go to for information. I'd quickly learned that Launch was the least-preferable option, and so decided that I might have the best luck with Bootstrap. I strode casually over to him and stood by, appearing to watch the activity.
He nodded, and I returned the gesture.

I sighed and folded my arms, frowning in thought as I watched the men at their abhorrent play. After a minute's silence, I asked, "Do you know what business the captain had on that ship?"

"Aye. Captain met with a man named Andreas who summoned him for a steep bargain."

"What kind of bargain?" I kept my eyes on the game, vowing not to appear too interested in what he way saying.

He stepped up beside me, but didn't answer. I waited, and finally glanced at him, my arms still folded in mock-observation of the contest.

"The captain," he started slowly, "is planning on retrieving a large sum of silver."

"Silver," I repeated. "I see...that's what this Andreas wants?"

"Aye."

I remained silent for a few minutes, turning it over in my head. I thought it more than a little strange that someone would summon Davy Jones in order to retrieve silver. There had to have been more to it than that.
Hadras, who was one of the contestants in the game, made a noise of frustration as several dice landed on the floor. The others laughed at him.

I frowned. "The only thing is, where is the captain planning on getting silver?" A pause. "Is there an island he knows of that holds some?" Very doubtful, but I could think of no other way to get silver out in the middle of the ocean - unless he planned on striking up a second bargain with someone else.

Again, he didn't answer right away. I didn't press him, but was taken slightly by surprise when he emitted a sharp sigh and said, "Lass...has anyone ever told you of the Finfolk?"

I stared at him blankly. "No. What are the Finfolk?"

There was foreboding in his voice, but I'd never heard that strange name before. As of yet it meant nothing to me, and will admit that I behaved as such. I gazed curiously but unconcernedly as he explained.

"You've figured out, the sea holds many mysteries and harbors many strange people in its depths. Merfolk, for instance."

I nodded; I had heard of the Merfolk, but again, had never once come across them in all my years aboard the ship.
He continued, "The Finfolk dwell at the bottom of the sea, but they also set foot on land. They're a dark and mysterious people, what rarely engages with others. Grim, and often dangerous, too. They're creatures of myth and legend; most don't believe they exist. But…" he shrugged. "Used to hear stories long ago, about Finmen coming to shore and dragging women down to the depths of the sea."

"That has to be drivel."

He splayed his hands. "I never come across 'em myself, but...for all I know." He shrugged again.
I once again found myself in a struggle to believe a string of far-fetched tales. The only difference this time was that Bootstrap was the one spinning them, and I'd never known him to lie in order to purposefully bring out fear in others. Besides, he admitted that he'd never seen them; it's not as if he were trying to act like he had.
Then there was the fact that the captain was on a mission to seek out these Finfolk. That, above all, was legitimate proof that they did exist, else he wouldn't waste his time on a fool's errand.

"The captain's really going to search for these Finfolk…" I mused. "Where do they live?"

"In the northern seas, it's been told."

"The northern seas? That's quite a journey! But...I suppose the Dutchman can cover a distance of many leagues faster than any other ship."

He looked away, his gaze turning more melancholy than usual. "Aye, all but one."

I stared at him.
By now the game had ended, for the others began to disperse and seek out other activities (some of them staggering slightly.) I saw Maccus out of the corner of my eye making his way below deck with a few others.

Tearing my eyes away, I said, "You're thinking of the Black Pearl?"

He gave the slightest nod. "The Pearl, the gem of the Caribbean. Riding the wind, she could outsail any ship that ever was."
I tried to imagine what the Pearl must have looked like. He once described it as having black sails and the figurehead of a woman. In my mind's eye I saw it sailing proudly over crystalline waters, smooth and fast as a bullet.

Then another thought struck me. "What did Andreas promise Davy Jones in return for silver?"

"Andreas Delatorre is cleverer than his brother. He offered two things: the first being knowledge having to do with Isla Tormenta. The second being something that Andreas holds very closely: his first mate."

My brow furrowed. "His first mate? But why would he...wait...Andreas Delatorre? He's related to captain Carlos?"

He nodded stoically. "Aye, that he is. I've heard some about the Delatorre family. The lot of 'em are scoundrels."

I was shocked and immediately intrigued. "So the captain met with another one of the Delatorre brothers. How many are there?"

"Three that I know of. Andreas's first mate is also his younger brother."

I stared incredulously at him. "This captain would trade in the life of his brother for silver?"

He looked at me. "They're pirates, lass. They don't value human life. Surely you would have realized that."

I shook my head. "It's just that...even pirates have to have feelings, don't they? Wouldn't they spare even a close kin?" Silence. I folded my arms. "I don't know why your kind continue to appall me. I mean…" I turned and gestured around me, "I can see this lot not giving a second thought to sacrificing one of their own. But Andreas is a human man. How can you tell me he'd willingly sacrifice his first mate, who happens to be his brother, just for silver?"

"Lass," he said, "I don't believe Andreas is giving his brother up that easily." He averted his gaze. "It's a wretched act, to be sure - but that doesn't mean it's an easy thing for him to bear."

"How do you know so much about this man?"

"Truth be told, all I've heard are stories. True stories, mind you. Word gets around, and I've heard enough about the Delatorre brothers to judge what kind of men they are. Carlos was the more ruthless of the three. Andreas and his brother, Ruben, have a closer understanding with one another."

"Or so it would seem." I huffed. "Well...maybe I was a fool to try and find out so much."

"Might've found out anyway. Secrets aren't kept well on this ship."

"I suppose." I shook my head for the umpteenth time. "I just can't understand...well…"

"Put it out of your mind, lass. Dwelling on it only makes it worse."

I nodded resignedly. "Yes…"

A figure approached us out of the gloom, carrying an armful of weaponry. It was Palifico. "Captain says you're to make yourself useful," he said, tossing the weapons at my feet. "Scrape these off," he ordered, and left.

I set to work without comment, thinking in jest that at least I'd have something to do during my leisure time.

Forward and forward the Dutchman sailed, never-ending, unceasing, beneath sunny skies and starry nights, through rain and fog.

The captain kept us on the surface because it was faster than moving through thick water. I didn't know how long it would take us to reach...well, wherever it was the captain was leading us. Bootstrap said the captain was going to seek out the Finfolk, who lived in the northern seas. That was ambiguous.

Davy Jones knew where he was going, though, and certainly didn't feel it necessary to spill every detail to the entire crew. It was not our place to question him.

Days passed by slowly. Life was hard on the Dutchman, but it became harder the further north we traveled. The air grew colder, the clouds thicker and less inclined to disperse. Strange as it was to feel a change in temperature, it was different feeling the icy bite above wander than under it - so that even though we were always cold, the difference was noticeable. I was grateful that our chores were almost always carried out during the day when the sting of icy temperatures was less severe. Oftentimes during nightfall I would stand by the bulwark and look up at the stars, which were so much clearer in this part of the world. The warmer, southern oceans boasted glorious stargazing, but there was always the feel of a moist layer between us and the sky.
Here, the layer was gone. The stars blinked overhead fiercely bright, cold as the night, gazing down on our insignificant lives, us ants toiling on the world below.

Sitting on a barrel up on deck one night, I rested myself from the days work, watching several crewmen partake in their leisure time. Maccus, Finnegan, and Crash were hard at the cups and dice, exchanging gratified shouts. My eyes lingered on the first mate, who was faced away from me. The pincers on his back moved every which way, glinting in the pale light of the stars. It was a black night with no moon.

Averting my gaze for a moment, I noticed several crewmen staring pointedly at me. Slowly, I turned my face away from Maccus, not wanting to give the wrong idea. It didn't matter that the crew knew of my affiliation with him. It was one of those things best kept in the dark, and anymore, I'd been given more than enough trouble with regards to it. The deal Maccus had made with the captain safeguarded his contact with me, but it did nothing whatsoever to assure my own protection. Such was the way of pirates.

Though I tried to ignore the unfriendly glares cast my way, I started feeling increasingly exposed. I slid off the barrel and decided to mix in with another group (to have gone below deck would have invited pursuit), only to run into Launch by accident.

"Fancy seeing you out and about, Chains," he said with a grin.

"What of it?"

"As if you didn't know. Why aren't you below deck, skulking about? The cabins must feel lonely without you."

"I got bored."

He gave a soft chuckle. "You're lying." He fell into step with me, and we made our way toward the other side of the congregation. "I'm bettin' you came up for...'new material,' as you put it?"

My mouth twitched. "Regarding the captain's latest errand?"

"Aye."

I nodded, and turned to face him directly. "I have. And you'll be pleased to hear that I already found out all I wanted to know from Mr. Turner." To say that I wasn't enjoying this would have been a lie - but the enjoyment was short lived, as I was soon to realize that Launch was, yet again, one step ahead of me.

"No you haven't," he said lazily, yet somehow still exhibiting the air of utmost confidence.

"What do you mean?" I answered in a low tone, fully prepared for an agonizing interaction with this creature.

"Turner probably told you about Andreas and his cohorts and the captain's plan to obtain a mint of silver." He cracked his knuckles. "Maybe he even told you about...the Finfolk. But, did he tell you what those demons pine for beside silver?"

"What?" I hated to appear interested, though I surely was. Everyone knew how easily Launch could pull a person in with interest.

He waited a moment, clearly enjoying the upper hand, and said, "The answer's staring you in the face." I frowned, not understanding his meaning, and was about to question - when he retrieved a large shard of mirror from his belt and held it up to my face.

I almost flinched, then a surge of anger rose up in me. "Where the hell did you get that?" I snapped, and snatched the shard from his hand. I strode over to the bulwark and tossed it overboard. Several crewmen who witnessed this exchange laughed.

Launch was laughing, too. "Seems Mr. Turner left out a few details, Chains."

"What's your point?" I seethed, feeling angrier at him than usual.

"I'll put it this way - when we reach Finfolk territory, you'd best hide that pretty face of yours. Likely to be snatched out from under our noses."

I snorted, not bothering to speculate whether his words were true or not. "So, you mean to tell me these...Finmen, enjoy the company of women, do you?"

"Aye, that they do. Many's the time a poor young rib's been snatched and dragged to the depths of the ocean by an ardent Finman, forced to live out her days as a fishwife, performing hard labor under the leering eye of her cruel husband."

"Living beneath the ocean...hard labor under the watch of staring eyes...are you sure I'm not already a fishwife?"

He chortled and slapped his knee. "Ah, lass, I knew you possessed a sense of humor somewhere in there." I looked away. His laughter died down, and he said, "You know, I know quite a bit about the Finfolk. Even been to their kingdom, once."

It was a horrid lie, one even he shouldn't have been cheeky enough to spin. I said, "You can forget it, I'm not making any deals with you. Food is scarce enough as it is, and I'm not about to trade you my last ration for information you've probably made up anyway."

"Have it your own way, wench," he said. "See how you enjoy the show when we arrive to our destination. When the ordeal's through, you'll have learned more about the Finfolk than anyone, I'd wager." He meandered off to mingle with other crewmen.

In spite of his words, I wasn't afraid of entering the country of the Finfolk. As always, I didn't know whether Launch was being truthful or not, but either way I don't believe I had cause to fear. I didn't plan on leaving the ship, and anyway, even if what I'd heard was true, I was hardly what you would call a woman anymore. I was more fish than not, and even if these Finmen were of the amorous type, I felt immune to their attention.

In the end, none of it mattered anyway. This was just one more exploit that the captain was undertaking and would emerge successful from. Actually, I was a little curious to see these Finfolk and their country. Having never heard of them until a short while ago, I was somewhat intrigued about the mystery surrounding them.

Perhaps when we arrived to their country, I would be able to get a glimpse of one from the ship.

During our travels one day, we came across a wandering ship.
I say "wandering," though surely this ship must have had a destination, unless it had been blown off course by foul winds. Still, it was strange to see travelers in these parts.

We all stood on deck observing the vessel. The captain stood by and peered at it through his looking glass, still as a statue save for his writhing tentacles. "Well, lads," he announced, mockingly, "it appears we have a second mystery on our hands." He turned to Maccus. "Assemble the crew. We'll approach this squalid dinghy ourselves."

His words were met with a roar and rush of bodies scurrying to carry out his orders.

"Get moving, ye damned blowfish! You three, hop on the cannons!"
A cruel voice sounded amidst the din. I felt strong hands seize my collar and came face to face with the bo'sun. "Enough o' your piddlin, ye lily-livered wench - get below deck!" He threw me to the floor, and I staggered back to my feet and departed quick as I could.

Three crewmen were already down by the cannons, priming them for use should we end up needing them. I helped in what way I could, not a little shaken by my encounter with the bo'sun, and kept my senses alert for any change - whether the captain reappeared and ordered an assault, whether we were to assemble and summon the dreaded kraken…
My insides turned cold at the thought.

When the cannons were doubly inspected for use, we dispersed and hurriedly sought out work so as not to incur the wrath of Jimmylegs.
Work was easy to find on the ship because no matter what had or hadn't been done, there was always sea life to be cleared away - only to have it return, yes, but keeping the ship as clear as we could was important. Without the never-ending battle we waged against barnacles, mussels, and coral, the Dutchman would have been too engulfed for use.

It didn't take long for the captain and the others to finish their inspection. I figured the men on the other ship must be trembling and quaking in their boots right about now.
This time around, I was able to overhear the captain's report. He chuckled as he addressed Jimmylegs, for he sometimes brought news to the bo'sun, being that he was in charge of discipline.

"You've got yerself a new charge," Jones said, in false humor. I heard a loud thump on deck and guessed that whoever it was they'd brought back was shoved to the floor at the feet of the bo'sun.
I wanted to hear more, but naturally the captain never explained his actions to the crew. He departed from the deck and Jimmylegs resumed his ill treatment of the crew and, I'm sure, the new person.

Looking over my shoulder, I glanced at the others to see what they made of it. Only one other had stopped in his work; he glanced at me as well, shrugged, and resumed his task. I did likewise, forcing myself to be patient enough to find out what had happened.

We got new recruits on occasion; that was nothing unusual.
What was unusual was the fact that it had only been one person. Strange as it may sound, if there was one survivor there were almost always several. But from the sound of it, only one person had been recovered from that ship. It's possible there'd been others and that this new person was the only one who decided to pledge his services - but I started to wonder if maybe he had been the only survivor of some attack, or perhaps the crew had been afflicted with disease and only one man was left alive…

Silence reigned for a good handful of hours. Barnacle-scraping grew old very fast, but I had long taught myself not to keep track of time. It was futile and only made things worse. Gradually, the light disappeared from the sky, the air grew cooler, and we moved from our task to light the lanterns dangling from the beams.

Quittance came to us and announced that our work was finished. One of the crewmen mustered up the gumption to ask him what had happened on the other ship.

Quittance shook with wicked laughter. "Only one survivor on the ship," he rasped. "All the rest, dead. Foolish man's pledged himself to us."

"What became of the others?" someone asked.

"No wounds, no blood - took to illness, mayhap. Last man alive is sick, too. Before long, he'll wish he'd died with the others." He chuckled cruelly and left.
We exchanged glances.

The others proceeded on deck in search of rum, such was their way of spending their leisure time. But I was tired and decided to catch up on sleep.
Although the hammocks were empty, I decided not to indulge myself tonight. There were times when I'd been shoved right out of one during my sleep so that a higher-ranking crewman could make use of it instead. I wasn't in the mood to take that risk tonight, so I beat it to the punch and made for a corner.

I lied there thinking of the new recruit and what his story could have been, whether he was already regretting his choice to join us. I thought of Andreas Delatorre and his brothers and the deal they'd struck with Davy Jones. I thought of the Finfolk and wondered what they looked like, where they dwelt, and how our interaction with them would play out.
After a time, I drifted off.

Many days passed and still we hadn't submerged.
There was no lack of intriguing conversation, though. During leisure time most of us spoke of our current errand, and I came to find out that I was one of the few people on board who had never heard of or seen these elusive Finfolk.

Bootstrap Bill had known of them, but had never seen any. The others, having spent a much longer time on the ship, had seen them before, albeit very seldom.
I didn't feel put off by Launch's testimony of these Finmen, and tried gleaning the opinions of others. Surprisingly, they weren't able to tell me much of anything I hadn't already heard - save, perhaps, for a few obvious falsehoods (one crewmen had claimed that the Finfolk were dangerous sorcerers. As if living on this ship wasn't fairytale enough.)

When I tired of studying the Finfolk, I learned what I could of the new recruit.

He was a slim sailor in his forties, weathered and ragged, dark of hair, and understandably jumpy. He was put to work with us slaves down below, though I didn't feel inclined to approach him. Even though he'd made an agreement to serve aboard the Flying Dutchman, it was obvious that he was terrified of his new shipmates and surroundings. I knew that eventually he would adjust as best he could, same as I had, and so I didn't think much of it.

As time dragged on, there came a day in which the captain ordered the ship submerged.
On impulse, I braced myself in one of the safer parts of the ship where I knew I wouldn't be tossed and thrown about. I wrapped my arms securely around a pillar near the back wall where there'd be as little jarring as possible.

I glanced to my left and noticed the new man standing around, unawares. He looked startled and vastly unsure of what was to happen.

"Sir," I called to him after a moments hesitation, "you might want to hang on to something."

Trembling, he looked from me to a nearby pillar and copied my action. Not a moment too soon.
The Dutchman heaved, her bowsprit tilting forward. Seawater surged in with incredible speed and power, and I had just enough time to hear the man shout in terror before it was cut off. My heart went out to him, for I remembered only too well my own reaction the first time I'd experienced a submersion.
Streams of bubbles shot past us for what seemed a long time, and when they finally cleared, it revealed the same chilling darkness I had grown forcibly used to. It would take some time for us to near the bottom of the sea, and I took the opportunity to try and reassure the new recruit.

"What's your name?" I asked him in as steady a voice as I could (for even though I was used to submerging, my body reacted with adrenaline on impulse.)

His didn't answer, too busy was he clinging to the pillar for dear life, inhaling and exhaling at an alarming speed. His mind and body weren't used to being able to breathe underwater.

Against my better judgment, I released the pillar and made my way over to him as best I could.

"Sir," I said again, placing a hand on his trembling arm, "you're alright. I know it's frightening, but you get used to it." Still he said nothing, but he fixed me with a terrified gaze. It was then that I realized he was actually frightened of me.
I had been around fearless crewmen for so long that I'd forgotten how I must appear to a normal human being.

Trying a different tactic, I said, "My name is Chainer. What's yours?"

Still breathing heavily, he stuttered, "S-samuel."

I nodded, doing my best to appear calm so as not to frighten him further, if that were possible. "It's...nice to meet you, Samuel." It felt strange to speak formally after so many years of incivility. I said, "I'm one of the newer people myself. I know it's frightening, but you...you'll be alright."
I don't know what compelled me to tell him that; it was perhaps the biggest lie I'd ever told. But in the moment I was desperate to comfort him, even if it meant telling him what I thought he needed to hear, lie or not.

The water became heavier and I hadn't noticed the figure approaching us with uncanny ease, in spite of our mobility.

I turned and saw Koleniko's face. "None of that, lass," he said. "Let the sorry harbor dog fend for himself. We won't have comforting on this ship!" He moved past.
I guess I should have known that my attempts to comfort the man wouldn't be tolerated. If there's anything looked down upon on this ship, it's humanity.

I made my way back to the pillar as best I could. Movement grew easier as we were no longer making a beeline straight toward the bottom, but were inching down in a horizontal path. When we leveled out, I let go the beam and set to work, which was the best thing to do when you weren't sure what to do.
I feared for Samuel, though. He was still terrified and desperately clutching the pillar; I knew it was only a matter of seconds before someone came down and punished him severely for not tending to his duties.

Though Koleniko had departed, I kept my voice low, looked over my shoulder, and said, "Sir, you'd better start on your duties. If anyone comes down and finds you there, you'll be in for it."

I was more than a little surprised when he managed to let go the wood and somehow found the courage to grab a scrubber and start on the floor. Although he was clearly out of his wits, I could tell he had a certain spark to him. Most new recruits went into hysterics upon first submersion (myself included), but this man possessed just enough fortitude to set himself to work.

I thought, too, what a formidable crewman he would make, come the time he embraced his place among the crew.

I don't know how long we traveled underwater; it was harder to measure time when you were in unending darkness.

We kept to our work for a long time, and it was only by the orders of Jimmylegs that I was able to somewhat guess how many nights and days passed. Whenever he came to announce that the shift was over, I counted it as one more day that had gone by.

The journey to the realm of the Finfolk was, needless to say, very long and dreary. The only interesting thing about it had been being able to watch the luminous schools of fish that often swam within proximity to the ship. Fish that glowed and flashed in the dark were only seen at the deepest levels.
I recalled the description I'd been given of the Finfolk, how dark and dreary their own personalities supposedly were, and thought it fitting that their home lay at the deepest, darkest depths of the sea.

It wasn't just glowing fish we saw, but many other strange and uncanny things - countless sea beasts I had no name for and didn't wish to ask the others. Some were no more than large fish that gave off a faint glow, but others were of such a form that it was impossible to describe them. They were completely unknown to the world above.
Yet I couldn't help but wonder if some of these dancing, glowing creatures were the "sea sprites" I'd once been told about. After all, not all of them were terrifying; some of them were astoundingly beautiful.

I strode up to Maccus one day as he stood near the bulwark, clutching a line of rope.
"Maccus," I said, "if, I may ask...how is it the captain plans on getting silver so deep underwater? I didn't know any could be found this far down."

"The creatures we're going to encounter have a distinct type of silver all their own." He fixed me with his eye. "Delatorre wants silver from the Finfolk and none other."

"That's interesting," I murmured, staring out into the murky darkness with him. "I wonder what sets this silver apart."

"You'll see when we get there."

And, as it turned out, we did get there eventually. Even I began to have doubts, but I knew we were approaching Finfolk territory because the captain ordered the lanterns be rekindled. He wanted our presence known and anticipated. I couldn't help but acknowledge a grudging sort of admiration for Davy Jones who showed neither qualm nor fear of approaching these Finfolk. I'd heard enough about them by now to make me wish to avoid them, though I still hoped to get a glimpse of one from a safe distance.

The anticipation was felt among everyone. The crew was ready and eager for confrontation. I saw Crash fondling a sawtooth fish sword almost lovingly. Clanker already wielded his chain shot in expectancy, donning a trademark scowl. You'd think the nature of our errand was confrontational.

"Are we that close?" I whispered to Tanger, who stood beside me. "I can't see anything at all."

"Aye, we're close. Should be seeing it any minute now." He narrowed his eyes. I did likewise, urging them to cut through the darkness to pick up any sign of this elusive realm.

And at last, there it was...a tiny blue string of light emerging from the blackness.
It gradually took shape and expanded, until it revealed itself to be what it truly was: an immense fortress at the bottom of the sea, aglow with soft blue light from what I gathered could only be luminescent fish. We were still a fair distance away but it looked enormous, in fact more so than any castle I'd ever seen in my life as a human. The sheer size of it brought a rush of bewilderment to my chest, and I let loose a sigh of wonder.

Closer and closer the Dutchman sailed, and then, "Oh my..." I breathed, and actually grasped Tanger's scaly arm. "Is that…?"

"Aye, there it is, lass. Finfolkaheem, citadel of the Finfolk."