Chapter 4

Rain pattered onto the sleeve of Skiff's coat as he hunched up in the middle of his dinghy, trying to read his book by torch light. It was a gentle rain, not enough to deter him from reading, but enough to make the ink run, and so Skiff was using his sleeve to protect the precious pages. What time it was, he had no idea. Judging by the darkness, the stiffness in his legs, and the time he had set out, he'd have to have guessed around 2am, possibly half 2. He'd never been out on his boat this late, nor had he been this far out into the ocean. He might just well be half way across the Atlantic for all he knew, although there was hardly any wind that had stirred the pages between his fingers, let alone his entire vessel.

"The young woman sat on the shore, unknowing that a great danger was approaching"

That was ominous, Skiff thought. He had cast both his rod and Pescecorp's net over the side of the boat to double the chances of a large haul that evening. Despite his realisation that in order to achieve close to the numbers Dave and his cronies brought back he'd need to make several - if not hundreds – of trips, Skiff was still determined not to go down without a fight. He wasn't feeling particularly soldier like right now, hunched up uncomfortably in the middle of nowhere, feeling a little scared. And his neon yellow raincoat was hardly the outfit of an Amazonian warrior, or anything much of a fighting sort. If he could view himself through a third person camera lens, Skiff very much suspected he looked more like a desperate fisherman who had no backup plan to his marine based profession. This, unfortunately, was the truth. Try as he might, he couldn't recall a single ancestor from his father's Eastport side who hadn't fished for a living. Even his mother had profited off of the fishing trade just as much as her in laws. And, as neither of his parents had any siblings or cousins that had been mentioned, Skiff was truly the end of the Eastport line. And, by the looks of it, the end of hundreds of years worth of honest trade.

A droplet of water fell onto the page in his hand, diffusing the letters into a small blue puddle. But it had not been the rain getting through. Skiff wiped his eyes furiously, and shut the book to prevent any more water damage, rain or tears. He hadn't really been concentrating on the past two pages anyway, and would need to reread them at a more appropriate time. Fatigued, cold, and dispirited, the sailor stowed his book in the safe hold under his seat, and then brought his knees up to his chin, staring at nothing in particular on the deck. Several minutes passed in this position. Slish, Slosh, went the sound of the waves lapping against the hull. Slish, slosh. A gentle rhythm, almost like the rocking of a cradle. Left, right. Slish. Slosh. Skiff closed his eyes, the lull of sleep covering him like a blanket, sending him off to-

Thud.

"Whaa!"

The mariner was abruptly thrown backwards off of his seat onto the hard deck. He sat upwards quickly, looking around. The ocean was dark and silent.

"Calm down Skiff, probably your imagination" He hugged himself, still darting his eyes around. All was still. "Probably just a gust of wind ..."

Suddenly, his boat lurched again, smacking him into the starboard side of his dinghy.

"Oof!" He made an effort to stand, and ran towards the bow of his boat, nervous.

His reel was bending in the water, the string bobbing up and down madly, making little circles on the surface. Skiff quickly seized a hold of Pescecorp's net, and guided it close to the reel, until he felt it scoop around something. He tugged. And heaved. Whatever was on the end of his reel, whatever was in his net - was heavy. Skiff couldn't believe his luck. Oh, glorious day! He anticipated the gleaming of all of those wonderful shiny scales, ready to win back his favour with Brigodston. But my my, what a lot of fish there were, for the net was hard to pull, and the reel on the string, which had been caught in the net, was still going crazy. With one final desperate yank, Skiff hauled his catch onto the boat.

For a few seconds, all he could see were stars. Literally, as he was lying on his back. Not wanting to waste any time, Skiff scrambled to sit up, and rushed towards his reel to observe his catches. Hundreds of silver, amber and ebony scales shimmered in the moonlight, but they were not (as he had hoped) attached to multitudes of fish. It was a single tail, about the length of a pair of human legs. At the base was a horizontal tail end, with a thin amber membrane stretching between two points. A black and orange dorsal fin ran down the length of the back, and there were two smaller fins on the underside. Patches of orange and black and the occasional creamy yellow spotted the tail, reminiscent of a koi fish. That was pretty enough, but as Skiff's eyes slid up his catch, he saw something even more surprising. Much like the creature he had seen twenty years before, where the tail ended at the tip ... began the body of a human. This one was masculine, with smooth chestnut skin and flaming shoulder length tresses like a midsummer sunset. Navy blue eyes peered between the netting. His build was athletic, with powerful swimmers muscles in his arms and torso. He had a rather square jaw with a hooked nose that pointed downwards, and unlike most of the humans Skiff had seen, his eyebrows thickened towards the end and thinned in the middle. Above the left (from Skiff's view) was a small silver piercing.

Skiff crawled towards him nervously, not quite believing that there was a merman on his boat. Then he had another thought, Surely a merman was worth way more than any fish Pescecorp had ever pulled up. Even in his ancestry, no one had ever caught one to Skiff's knowledge. He'd caught exactly what he needed to restore all of his financial and emotional debt.

There was no time to lose. Skiff grabbed one of his oars. As he did so, the merman looked at him, and Skiff caught a flash of fangs. He grabbed the other oar, not looking back. He had to be quick. He had to reach Brigodston before everyone woke up and prove that he, not Pescecorp were the master fishers. But he couldn't take his eyes off the sight. He'd always known fish people were real. As the boat began to move, so did Skiff's catch. He seemed to realise that they were heading somewhere else, and began thrashing about on the deck, achieving nothing more than becoming more tangled in Skiff's fishing road. He lay on the floor, panting. Skiff tried to look away, a sense of guilt clawing at him.

"If you're going to sell me could you at least have the mercy to cut the reel first?"

It took a few moments for Skiff to realise that the human half of the merman was speaking. He turned to look back and saw that in his struggle the merman had entwined himself much too tightly in the reel, which was threatening to de-scale him in several places.

"H- how do I know you won't bite me?"

"I'm not the one in a position of kidnapping"

Skiff blushed, but took a knife from his inside pocket and cut some of the string. The merman's scales felt cool under his fingers. Not exactly like fish scales either. Dryer almost.

"I ... I didn't realise you could speak ... human" Skiff admitted, nibbling his lip. He stood above his prize, not making any move back to his oars.

"Well I suppose it adds to the bounty" The fishman sighed. His dorsal fin flopped over onto its side. Skiff had seen this in fish that were in cages too small for them.

"I ..." Skiff sighed, and sat back in the middle of the boat. It bobbed a little on the surface, but moved nowhere. "It's this Pescecorp company you see. They-"

"Them" The merman hissed, his tail twitching. "I suppose you're trying to take me back to that fish killing ferry?"

"N-no! I'm against them!" Skiff promised, and began his tale before the merman could accuse him anymore. He recalled the fish stands, the body dumping, and the threat to his lifestyle as he'd known it. How all he wanted was money and small family fishing, and his horror at Pescecorp's refusal to allow breeding seasons to pass and how they'd soon be no fish left for Brigodston, its founding factor.

"I ... I don't want to sell you to Pescecorp I just wanted ..."

"Money for a miracle" The merman did not sound cold, but he was not entirely sympathetic to the sailor's cause either. "They sell me, cut me open and you get your money. Then what? Other people want to catch merfolk. Pescecorp get hold of it. They start mass fishing for us instead – we're food and pets and playthings for scientists. And you started it. The money soon wears out but it's ok because now you can enslave more of us right?"

Skiff was close to tears. He'd always thought of himself as a good person. Now he could see what he was truly about to do by bringing this specimen back.

"I've seen how humans treat the ocean. Go ahead. If money's all you want I'm sure I'm worth a few months." He sounded defeated. Sad.

It broke Skiff's heart. He picked up a knife. The merman saw.

"Even better for you, now you won't have to hear the truth. Do me a favour though, make it quick"

The merman rolled over onto his side, exposing the length of his throat. Skiff noticed several small scars running down his back.

"Where did these come from?"

"Make me talk to distract myself. Clever tactic" There was almost a hint of commendation in that "Well I've been trying to free fish from the Pescecorp nets. Those things take hours to haul up so I'm usually quite good. I recognised your net and thought I had hours, but you took seconds, which is the only reason you caught me. Nets and rods and fishing hooks are dangerous business. Scars aren't anything new"

Skiff nodded, and raised his knife. The merman lay still on the deck, waiting. He anticipated the cold steel edge. After a while, he was aware of a cool breeze along his shoulders, and he felt a little more weightless. He opened an eye. The fisherman was hurriedly cutting through the ropes that bound him. Unlike any human he'd seen ... the man was freeing him.

"What are you-"

Skiff looked up, his eyes glossy.

"I can't. You're right. About everything. It was selfish of me to put money over ... well. You" He smiled "But I'm not making that mistake. I can't stop Pescecorp but I won't join them. There!" With a last slice, the sailor slid every last twine and rope off of the merman, who looked down at himself, and his captor, in disbelief.

"I won't tell anyone either. Not that they'd believe me" Skiff rubbed the back of his neck. "Just ... if you can ... Keep on freeing those fish"

He sounded so sincere, so sorry, that even the merman was close to tears. But he wanted to seize freedom before the human changed his mind.

"Can you ... help me back in?"

Skiff nodded, and helped to lift the koi tail as the merman hauled himself over the side with his arms. With a heavy heart, Skiff pushed the tail off the side of the boat, and watched it slip into the water. He expected his catch to swim off straight away, and was most surprised when her surfaced next to the boat again.

"If its money you want, meet me at the circular rock by your land at midnight tomorrow"

"Pirate's arch?"

"What ever you human's call it"

Skiff considered, and then nodded.

"Come alone, but bring something hollow"

"Hollow?"

"You humans like to carry things around"

"A bag?"

"One of those will do. Make sure it's a big one"

"Why?"

"Meet me tomorrow and you'll see"

Skiff considered reasons for a second or two, and then simply nodded. He had no alternative after all.

"Deal" The merman nodded, turning his back on the dinghy as he prepared to swim away.

"W-wait!" Skiff called. The head in the water turned.

"What's your name?"

One of the orange eyebrows rose, as if to question the human's motives. He decided no harm could come from this information.

"Captain"

And then, with a flick of his spattered tail, the merman disappeared into the dark water below.