The sky above us was dark and dry. The clouds had poured their hearts out for the past week, and our men could not take it anymore. They where still trying to bail water out of the storage, as well as their own skin. I was the youngest member on board. I had never been so sick when the storm hit. I was green with illness. I had a weak stomach, and couldn't eat until the night before.
I was also the only girl on board. At twelve I was almost a woman, and I was sure a few of the crew members had their eye on me. But I was steady and well build. I did not act lady like, though my mother always wished I would. I lived for the sea, and no one bossed me around. I had long red hair that I hated, and wished it will all fall out. I wished every night I could take a knife to it, and chop it short, I would find it so much easier to keep out of my eyes. But no. My mother had strict orders for me to my father, the captain of the ship.
"She must keep her hair. This is her last trip out to sea. She has to have something left when she comes home."
I rolled my eyes every time I thought of my mother, at home, knotted up with worry. I told her she was being stupid, and she ignored me.
I didn't have much choice. I had three other sister, Ellen, Marie, and Daria, and two brothers, Tom and Will. Daria was three years younger then me, and hated the sea. She loved the way Mum would dress her up, for any occasion. A perfect daughter in my mothers eyes. My eldest sister, Ellen, left to marry a lower class sailor when I was five. She was only fourteen. My mother was unable to bare her grief. She was poignant that her only daughter would choose a salty, poor sailor over any men at home. Marie was only a year older then me, but very smart. I envied her daily, and wished I could have her knowledge and wisdom.
Tom was four years old, and already a boy of great adventure. When I was home, he and I love to play Pirates. He would be the captain of the horrid old crew of scallywags, and I would be the other ship, passing by looking for a fight. He would scream nonsense until mother would come in and tell us to keep it down. Will is two years older then I am, and sails on all the ships my father does. He will be a great sailor some day, a captain maybe, my mother says.
Anyways, this trip was my last, and I hoped it would be one to remember. Well it was something to remember. Most defiantly.
"Jessie." My father called. I was watching out to the sea, hoping to run across something that would catch my eye. I looked over at my father and flashed him an innocent smile.
"Yes, Father?" I asked him, leaning on the side of the boat. He joined me, and crossed her arms.
"You aren't doodling are you, Jess?"
The fact was, I was hiding a piece of paper and a sharper pencil in my shirt. I was afraid that the picture I was working on would be ruined.
"No, Papa, of course not." I lied. The Pencil stuck into my ribs. My father raised an eyebrow and frowned. I sighed and pulled out my drawing. It was of the sea, and a fish tail lapping out of the water. I wasn't finished yet; I still wanted to draw a mermaid.
"Jessie, you need to focus." My Father was very stern. He hated when I lagged off and drew. But I was getting better, and I needed more practice.
"I'm sorry, Papa, I will try and focus, I was just waiting for a mermaid to come up. I want to draw one."
My father's face went slightly red, but he took a breath and tensed his fingers. "There is no such thing as mermaid, Jess."
"Yes there is!" I complained.
"Have you seen one?" He asked.
He had me there. No, of course I hadn't, but where all those stories I was told lies? I knew better then that. Stories are never lies.
"But Papa!" I whined. He waved a hand at me. I stopped.
"Listen. Jess, this is your last ride. Please make it one where I do not end up crazy by the end." He smiled and kissed me on the forehead. I laughed because it was true. I always drove him crazy with my 'high hopes' and 'tall tales.' I knew he would never hear me threw, so it was just another thing we argued about.
That night I climbed into my hammock. My mother said if I wanted to sail, then I must be treated like any other. I was glad. I didn't want to spend night after night with my father. But my hammock was a little farther away from the men's. Sanitary wise, my mother commented.
"Good Dreams." My father yelled down to us. The men yelled back.
"Good sailing, Away!"
Stupid, I know. It was just something my father made us say to bless the ship while we slept.
My brother Will came by and made sure I was ok. I batted him away, and didn't bother to say goodnight to him.
I slept with little distractions and no dreams.
In the morning, I could barely see anything. My eyes where swollen shut, with exhaustion. I heard, though.
"Oh my, look!""It's singing."
"It's beautiful."
"Turn the ship! We must listen."
I suddenly remember a story my grandmother had told me when I was young.
Sirens are horrible creatures, no matter what the form of them happen to be. To men, the siren appears to be a beautiful woman, with hair of silk and eyes of passion. Their song would have an irresistible charm. Men would stop and turn and it would drive the women mad with greed. They would lure their prey close to them, and their ships would hit rocks, making them sink. The Siren would then depart, laughing at her victims pain and suffering.
It was an old story, and widely known. But anyone who heard the sirens forgot all about being reasonable and staying sane. Some humans, in pure desire, would jump into the water and try to swim close to it, try and touch it. But they would drown in their own entail.
I rubbed my eyes until I could see. I jumped out of my bed, and did bother to put shoes on. I heard the sweet humming. I heard the sighs and the awing. I could not make out any words in the song. But I tried to block it out.
As I climbed up the stairs, I heard a piecing voice. I covered my ears as the sound almost made me fall down the stairs.
Then I remembered something key. There where three. Three sirens. Always three. Thelchtereia, Aglaope and Peisinoe. They had the face of beautiful women and the body of birds.
"I must go to it. It calls me." I heard a boy saw right in front of me. I had not been looking where I was going; I had been trying to block the sound out, as I climb the stairs. The sea wind struck my face as I looked up to see I was above the ship now, surround by my crew mates.
The boy who stood in front of me was my brother. Curtly I brushed him aside. I wanted to see if the stories where true. It seemed like forever as I pushed sailors aside, until I reach the side of the boat where people gazed.
My jaw dropped. The stories where true. I felt greed and anger build up. I wanted them, and I wanted to be them.
They each had long hair, with flirting eyes and faces like porcelain. I reached out, hoping I could touch them, but of course they where too far from my grasp.
But then I realized I had fallen under their spell. I shook my head fiercely and plugged my ears. I heard a slash, over the consent humming what was flowing into my plugged eras. I leaned over the side, and gasped. Their first victim. And it was my brother.
"William!" I screamed. I could barely hear my own voice, my ears where still plugged with my shaking fingers.
I heard him gurgle some water. The siren begun to laugh. I could not bare it.
"Oh, Lord, not my brother! Not my brother." I prayed, my eyes to the heavens.
I heard my father scream out to my brother. His ears where plugged too. He looked over at me, and gave me a desperate look. I gave him one back, my heart knotted with concern.
"Man over board!"
But no one answered my father's calls. They where all thinking bout doing the same thing my brother was doing. Biting my lip, I could only do one thing. Go to the wheel of the ship, and steer us far out of range of these monsters.
I climbed another set of stairs to get to the wheel. But there was the first mate, Jack, my father's most trusted sailor, steering us right to them.
"Jack" I screamed, but his eyes where lost in love and his soul was sold to the song.
I took my hands out of my ears, and cursed loudly when I heard the dreaded song enter my mind. I grabbed jack's hands, and tried to prey them off the wheel, but he stared down at me, a look I will never forget and whispered.
"I must have them. We must be with them. They call for us." It was the words of the devil.
"No Jack, we have to go home. Let me steer the boat." I pleaded to him. He brushed me off.
"No Jessie. I no longer want to go home, for I am home." His voice was a harsh whisper and his hands shook.
My thoughts left me for a minute. Jack was two times the size of me, yet, without a care in my mind, I tore at him, shoving him unexpectedly down to the floor. He snapped out of the devils' daze and wrestled back.
"Jess, get off me!" Jack was confused and he tired to punch my in the stomach. I dogged the throw and got off him, standing. I ran to the wheel, and grabbed it in my hands.
'How do I steer this thing?' I though, my mind wandering back to my poor brother drowning in his own greed.
With out knowing at all how to steer a boat of this size, I threw all my weight to the left side, hoping I had chosen the right way. The boat jerked and we moved the opposite way of the sirens. I heard a immense screech, and I feel the floor. Jack was still on the floor, a few feet away from me, rubbing his head. I screamed for him to plug his ears. The sirens needed more victims. I heard another splash. I did not go and see who was next, yet, I grabbed the steering wheel again and turned off more off course. I could hear the scream of my brother, and tears came to my eyes. It was so hard to leave him behind, but, everyone would go insane if we didn't get out of there right away.
"Jessie, what's the noise?" Jack asked from the floor, rubbing his head still. I must have made him fall and hit it when I jumped on him.
"It's the siren's don't listen. Plug your ears, Jack." I told him. But Jack shook his head.
"No. Who is screaming?"
I blinked back tears. I heard the sirens try and screech us back, but we where getting to far. Even the screams where getting soft. The screams of my doomed brother, and another crew mate that had joined him in his fate.
"Jack, just plug your ears." I ordered.
He did what I told him to, as he lay on the ground, staring up at the sky. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy cry. Jack had tears pouring down his face. I felt for him, but I did not leave my post at the wheel until I hear no more sound from the ocean.
--------------------------
"William Kidd was a great sailor." My father bowed his head. "As was Davy Flint, his best friend."
I couldn't control the sobs that ventured out of my lungs. I felt so guilty for my brother's death. But my crew mates did not say anything was my fault. On the contrary they thanked me. Not for running away from my drowning brother and his dear friend. But for saving them all, and taking the dreaded risk. For the courage I showed in the mist of mayhem, and the bravery to know when it is time to give something up.
My father placed a small box in front of our only sailor who was close to a priest. His name was Father John, yet he was no father, we just needed a priest for the ship to set sail, and John volunteered. The Father did the sign of the cross to the box and my father attached a small canon ball on a chain to the box. The black container had my brother's initials engraved on the front. I sobbed as my father threw it over board, and blessed the god of the sea, hoping that the water would put my brother to rest. We did the same thing with a brown box with Davy Flint's initials on it.
When the ceremony was done, my father took me aside, tears filled in his eyes.
"Jessie, I have done wrong. In two ways. I blamed your brother's death on you, when the ship begun to steer away from him."
My eyes widen. The guilt of my brother's death grew heavier on my shoulders.
"But Jessie, I was wrong. You did the best thing possible. You saved us all." My father hugged me fiercely. He continued. "And Jessie, I did the worst thing possible a father can do. I did not believe."
I looked up at him confused. He smiled. "I love you Jess, and I did not believe you, when you where right."
"I was right?"
"You made me believe."
And he turned and left to talk to Father John.
I smiled because I understood. My father now understood. And believed.
By: Anastasia Lanthier
Date: January 25th , 2004