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The Mermaid's Treasure -2-
🕑 Added 2018-05-24 17:03:10 +0000 UTCI made incoherent noises for some time then O’Reilly knelt beside me in the sand and asked, “Are you well, miss?” His face was lit by the late afternoon sun going down behind me and past him I could see what I assumed must be the Atlantic Ocean. East. I could see several boats in the water and farther out to sea, what looked like an old tall ship, all sticks and lines with no sails visible.
Edgar and I had been pedaling north from St. Augustine, coming back from a ride into town when the storm had blown up. We actually lived on an island, though you hardly noticed the bridge on the beach road over the channel at each end.
North would be…that way? To my left? I felt unsure of that but regardless there was nothing but sand and scrub that direction. South, or at least the other direction, didn’t look much different and there was no road in sight anywhere. I felt numb, looking for something familiar.
There had been houses on the beach road, some on both sides, along with motels and some other businesses. There had been traffic, not much even for a Sunday in the off season but we had stayed in the bike path to avoid cars. Come Spring Break in another month or so and the place would have been wall to wall with visitors from up north.
But here and now, wherever here and now was, I saw nothing but sand and scrub with some taller trees visible inland. My face knotted up, trying to remember. Hadn’t there been a marshy swamp off in that direction? Was the swamp gone or…?
I felt my lips pulling back, my teeth chattered and my hands shook. Cold or fear, I couldn’t be sure which, but I wasn’t too far from losing it completely.
O’Reilly made another noise, attracting my attention. “Are ye well, lass?” he asked in a kinder sounding voice.
I pulled thick black hair out of my face, where had all of this hair come from? And black? My hair was medium brown and fairly short. I shivered and looked up at him. He seemed enormous. “N-no, no, I’m not all right,” I said. “Where am I?” I looked around, pulling the smelly coat close to me.
The memory of riding my bike near the beach came back sharply. More real than real. I remembered the sinkhole that had swallowed me, the sound of the wave, the rocks and concrete in the water, the terror. I took a deep breath and got another scream ready.
O’Reilly had been about to smile when he saw my change in expression and instead capped one hand over my mouth and the other behind my head. “Dinna scream, dinna scream,” he said trying to be soothing. “Sure, you’ve had a terrible fright, ye were in a shipwreck, weren’t you?”
I tried to pull his huge hand away, he was covering my nose as well as my mouth. I couldn’t breathe but he was too strong for me to fight him off. All I could do was whimper.
“Ye’re not going to scream, are ye?” he asked.
I shook my head as much as I could with him holding me. The coat slipped off my shoulders and I saw him glance at my chest. Oh!
He let go and I took another long breath, pushing away my panic, though the strangeness of my current situation did not make it easy. I struggled not to hyperventilate, having my nose covered had made me think of drowning. He lifted the coat back to my shoulders and wrapped it around me more securely.
“Thanks,” I murmured, meaning thanks for letting me breathe.
Now he did smile. “There now, ye’re safe on shore. I’m David Patrick Aloysius O’Reilly of Dublin, Bristol and New York.” Him telling me his name did lot to reassure me on some level.
“I’m…” I started to answer automatically with my name, glanced down at myself, opened the coat again and looked at my boobies. If I told him who I thought I was, he’d likely have me locked me up.
I pushed ahead, at least my first name was ambiguous. “Uh,” I stammered. “I’m F-f-francis Louis B-Buchanan Pennwarden of, of, uh?” At the moment I could not think of where I was from.
“Ah, good,” he said, smiling. “A mermaid wouldn’t have such a lovely name as that! But by the looks of the goose-egg, ye’ve had a blow on the noggin, Miss Pennwarden.”
I nodded, touching a tender spot just inside my hairline. I remembered something in the water hitting me there. His calling me “miss” disturbed me less than it might. I had… the usual accessories that went with it, after all. I wanted to laugh hysterically as a line from an old movie occurred to me. “She’s got … huge tracts of land!” I clamped my teeth on a giggle that might have turned into shrieking.
O’Reilly was still talking. “I’m currently second mate and purser of the Adeline, the ship you see there.” He pointed off shore where the large ship I had spotted earlier was being tended by rowboats and other smaller craft.
I also saw a man running away, toward some rowboats. Babbitt? “Wh-where’s he going?” I asked.
“I sent him to fetch the captain and the doctor.” He sighed. “The captain may not come but I want the doctor to have a look at ye.” His eyes crinkled around a smile. “He’ll be able to tell us if you’re a mermaid, for sure.”
I nodded, recognizing his joke as more reassurance. But, sure, probably a good idea. People who are dead and have come back to life need to see a doctor. “Shipwreck?” I said. “Wh-when? How?”
O’Reilly looked out toward the ocean. “She was a schooner, a freighter, leaving Carolina, headed toward Bristol, likely. Carrying timber and pitch and indigo. The storm came up from the Indies, a powerful blow. She got cross-to and the wind capsized her.”
He had a grim look. “We saw the last part of it, though the storm. Ye must’ve been on that boat. What was her name?” he asked me.
I shook my head but he went on. “We were sailing afore the wind, outrunning the storm when we saw her go arsy-varsy, the masts breaking.” He sighed. “We tried to get close enough to pick up survivors but we’re a square-rigger, you see. We couldn’t maneuver in such a blow.”
It sounded like a tale from long ago. I blinked several times. “Why didn’t you use your engines?” I asked.
“Injuns,” he said. “Well, we didn’t have any and they would have been of no use in such a tempest, at any rate.”
He shook his head. “Come daylight, and the storm blew out to sea, we tacked back to look for, well, what we could salvage. Din’t expect any survivors.” He looked at me and his already tanned face got darker. Was he blushing?
I caught my breath and my mouth hung open for a moment. What the heck did he have to be embarrassed about? Now I was blushing, I could feel the heat in my face. Maybe I’m running a fever, I thought. At least, the panic attack had passed.
He looked away then seemed to be examining the sand. “The wreck happened last night, have you been lying on the strand all day?” He frowned, looking back at me. “When we found you, you had nothing on, not even ribbons in your hair….”
I looked up at him, trying to appear bewildered which wasn’t at all hard. If I’d been lying on the beach for six or ten hours, even under a winter sun on a cloudy day, I would have the mother of all sunburns. But I didn’t feel burnt at all.
We spent some time like that, just staring at each other. He said finally, “We might be able to find you some clothes….” And he blushed again.
He looked like a puppy that has brought you a toy and wants to be praised for it. And of course now my face turned hot again.
Then we were both laughing like loons. I couldn’t have said what about. My giggles and hoots had a touch of hysteria to them but it felt oddly relieving to laugh. When we stopped, gasping for breath, he asked, “Are ye cold?”
I shook my head and wiped my eyes then pulled the coat tighter against me when I realized that raising my arm like that had shown him a flash of my, uh, my breasts.
