Fairly Wicked Tales (24 page)

The Price of the Sea

A retelling of “The Little Mermaid”

David R. Matteri

“Hold fast, damn you! Hold!”

The Prince braced his legs and gripped the rope as another wave of icy sea water soaked his face. Lightning cracked overhead as the wind rocked the wooden sailing ship. His fellow sailors rushed around him, shouting futile orders in their losing struggle against the fury of the storm.

The Prince ground his teeth as his stomach turned in on itself from the erratic motion of the ship. They sailed on a diplomatic mission to the kingdoms of the south–a journey which should have lasted a day and a night. Indeed, only a few hours ago they had feasted on roasted pig and fruits from the mainland. Their bellies full, the men turned to drinking grog and singing old sea chants. But then the glow of the moon and stars were snuffed out by a mass of black clouds rolling across the skies. The sudden rush of the storm turned their merriment into terror. No more songs of lost love or fair maidens came from the lips of those sailors, only the cries of “hold fast.”

Hold fast or die.

A monstrous wave loomed over the ship. The Prince’s heart shriveled in terror at the size of the wall of ocean crashing down on him. The force swept the Prince off his feet. Sea water filled his ears and his vision blacked out. For a moment, he feared his end had come as he tumbled through a void.

Someone gripped his wrists. The Prince forced his eyes open and realized he dangled off the side of the ship. One of the stockier sailors, an old sea dog with a long grey beard, had seized him just before he fell overboard. The Prince spared a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the roiling sea far below him.

“I have you,” the sea dog shouted. “Hold fast!”

A new sound erupted over the din of the storm and men: splintering wood. The mainmast had been torn from its base and collapsed. The Prince watched in horror as the falling mast came down towards him and the old sea dog. He shouted a warning, his voice inaudible over the crashing sea and storm. The mast struck the sailor’s head and knocked him overboard.

The Prince fell. He swung his arms in hopes to catch something, anything, to break his fall. He crashed into the ocean alongside debris and other sailors unfortunate enough to be swept off the deck. He kicked his legs and swept his arms out and reached the surface. Spitting bitter sea water, the Prince searched for something to grab and spotted some floating planks of wood. He grabbed the wood and stared at the ship flailing in the ocean. A fire erupted on the deck, but with no one around to put it out, the blaze quickly spread and engulfed most of the ship. Then, with a groan that sounded eerily like the death knell of an animal, the burning ship sank into the roiling waves. Men screamed as they jumped overboard. The Prince shouted for help, but no one shouted back.

The Prince could no longer think clearly. Survival replaced clear thinking despite the slim odds of finding dry land this far out at sea. There was just enough room on the planks for him to lie on his stomach. He did so and gripped the edges as the storm thundered and crashed overhead.

***

The Prince opened his eyes to blinding daylight. He had passed out sometime during the night. Gentle waves lapped at his fingertips. The sun shone bright and hot overhead and his skin burned from the heat.

The Prince raised his aching head and examined the sea. There were few traces of his ship floating in the water around him: wooden planks, barrels, and some articles of clothing. Without food or water, he would not last alone on the open sea. The Prince wanted to cry through his dry lips and hoped death would be as painless as passing into sleep.

But then something caught his eyes on the horizon.

He stared intently at the grey shape off in the distance. The longer he stared, the more excited he became. Small black dots circled the grey shape: Birds. Land! The Prince closed his eyes and thanked God for his good fortune. The distance did not seem great; he figured he had enough strength left to paddle his way over. His movements were slow and controlled; he did not want to pass out before reaching land.

After some time of treading water on his pitiful raft, the Prince arrived at the strip of jagged rocks sticking out of the ocean like a row of deformed teeth. The rocks were uninviting, but the hovering seagulls encouraged the Prince. The birds must have been circling some food source and, hopefully, a source of fresh water. As the Prince paddled, though, he thought he heard someone calling his name. He dismissed the sound as a product of his imagination and moved on.

Exhaustion swept over the Prince as he paddled into the small cove. He dragged his tired body off the wooden planks and into the shade, sighing in relief at the touch of land. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep before hunting for breakfast. After a few moments, the sound of someone calling his name reached his ears again. He tried to ignore it, but then the voice became louder and more desperate. Someone
was
calling his name!

The Prince sat up in the cove and looked out to sea. A young man approached from the direction of the lost ship with one arm wrapped around a plank of wood while using the other to tread water. The Prince’s heart swelled as he recognized the cabin boy.

“It’s about time you turned around, your grace,” said the smiling cabin boy. “I feared losing my voice before you noticed.”

“Forgive me, but I believed my ears were fooling me!”

The Prince waved to the young man and stood, beckoning him to come closer.

“There is enough room for both of us on this miserable rock.”

The cabin boy obliged and paddled closer. Clean shaven and with big brown eyes, the boy was perhaps sixteen or seventeen years of age. The smile eroded from the boy’s face.

“Is there any chance of a rescue? I don’t want to die out here. I want to see my family again.”

“Many traders come through this part of the sea. One is sure to come by soon and spot us. Come. Let us rest a moment before we catch one of those flying rodents for dinner.”

“That sounds splendid, your grace.”

The cabin boy let go of his planks and swam for the edge of the cove.

A dark shape appeared in the water behind him.

The Prince stared. He feared a shark had followed the boy and was about to warm him, but he choked at what broke the surface of the water.

It was not a shark, but a girl. Her skin had a milky texture to it and she had long blonde hair streaking behind her. She seemed to be slightly younger than the cabin boy. For a moment the Prince was dumbstruck by this unexpected beauty. There were a few families on deck with young children, but he did not remember her.

The girl reached her hands out of the water. Her fingers were very slender and immaculate. She grabbed the cabin boy’s neck and snapped it with an audible crack. The Prince screamed. Her teeth were rows upon rows of tiny poniards sinking into the cabin boy’s exposed flesh. Blood fountained and turned the waters black. The Prince pressed his back against the rock and stared as the girl chewed and swallowed chunks of flesh.

Filled with revulsion and terror, the Prince tore his gaze away and saw he could climb out of the cove on a wall to his right. He scrambled up the wall while listening to the disgusting slurping and smacking of the girl’s lips over the splashing water.

The Prince made his way to the top. He stood on top of the small, rocky outcropping in the middle of the ocean. Except for the cove he just left, there was no other cover from the sun, but roasting on this barren rock was the last thing on his mind. A putrid stench was in the air, coming from somewhere close by. Seagulls circled overhead and congregated on the other end of the island. They dove at something behind a large rock. He slowly made his way across the island and peered around the large rock.

A decomposing body lounged against the rock. The seagulls landed and pecked at the strands of flesh hanging off of the bones. The skull was picked clean by scavengers long ago. Empty eye sockets stared at the Prince, who backed away in disgust.

“Drown with me.”

He spun around and spotted her bobbing in the water. Her lower half was that of a large fish. The Prince gasped. Never in his wildest dreams did he believe these creatures to exist. Or be so gruesome. Her pale, human breasts and green scales were soaked in gore, but she smiled up at him as if she were an old friend.

“Get away from me!” The Prince shouted.

The mermaid laughed. Her voice rang cold and hollow.

“And where would I go? The sea is my home and you are my guest.”

The mermaid ran her tongue across her bloody fangs. “I will delight in sucking the marrow from your bones.”

“To hell with you!” The Prince backed away. “You will not have me!”

The mermaid laughed again. She playfully splashed the water with her hands and fin.

“How long do you think you will last without water? It won’t be long until you go mad with thirst. Sooner or later you will come crawling to the edge and bring your lips to the ocean. I will be waiting with open arms when you do.”

She dove under the water and vanished, leaving the Prince shaking and sweating under the burning sun.

***

“This has to be a dream.”

The Prince cradled his head in his hands as he spoke to himself. He returned to the cove to keep away from the sun, which was now lower in the sky. It had only been a few hours since the mermaid killed the cabin boy, but to the Prince it felt like years. From time to time the Prince thought he witnessed cruel eyes staring at him from underneath the surface or a dark shape skirting the edges of the island.

He sighed and contemplated the cruel irony surrounding him: water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Would just a small taste be so terrible? Just one little sip …
no!
The Prince slapped himself. He needed to take his mind away from the raging thirst. The Prince got back on his feet and climbed out of the cove. The seagulls, now fat and content off of the corpse, were huddled together on the large rock. Powerless about his thirst, the Prince set out to satisfy his hunger.

Crawling on his belly, the Prince moved slowly and took care not to make any noise. The seagulls twitched their heads this way and that, but did not seem to notice his approach. Some flapped their wings and shot into the sky. The Prince went still and feared they would all fly away, but a few settled back down. He continued to crawl.

The Prince approached close enough to be within arm’s reach of one seagull. He waited. The seagull turned its head towards him and raised its wings. His hands shot out and grasped the small neck. The animal made a terrible noise that scared away the other seagulls, but went silent when the Prince crushed its bones.

He returned to the cove with his kill. He was disgusted at first. His stomach developed a taste for the smoked meats and sweet pastries of the palace cooks. This dead thing in his hands smelled awful and possessed little meat. He remembered the horrifying image of the mermaid devouring the poor cabin boy and shuddered.

Once again the primal urge for survival took over his cultured sensibilities. He plucked out the feathers and, after a moment’s hesitation, took a bite. The meat was tough and tasted as awful as it smelled. He fought back the urge to vomit as every morsel was a struggle to swallow and keep down.

He ate until there was nothing but bones and feathers. It was the worst thing he had ever eaten, but he knew it would keep him alive. He climbed back across the island rocks and reexamined the corpse. Pirate cloth and regalia hung from the bones, which had some flesh the seagulls had missed; the Prince wondered if he would have to eat the remainder.

The Prince found a flintlock pistol lying between some rocks close to the skeletal remains of the right hand. The pistol was useless without shot or powder and he imagined clubbing the mermaid to death would be an exercise in futility. He then searched through the pockets and found a dull dagger. There was also a hole in the left temple of the skull. This must have been the remains of a marooned pirate who took his own life; the Prince regretted his death would not be as quick.

Death? The Prince shuddered. Yes, death seemed likely, so why fight it? He could sharpen the dagger on the rocks and slice his veins to deny the monster her pleasure. Yet the voice of survival screamed against that option. He prayed his people would send a ship to search for him soon.

The Prince found a smooth rock and began to sharpen it alongside the dull edge of the dagger; he had to be ready just in case.

***

While the day was unbearably hot, the night was absolutely freezing. Sleep eluded the Prince. His chattering teeth kept him awake and he feared rolling off the rocks in his sleep and waking up inside the mermaid’s stomach. A crescent moon hung in the sky and the stars seemed dim and weak. Blackness surrounded him. His only company was the sound of the ocean and the image of the mermaid’s fangs rising from the water.

He sat with his back against the large rock with the pirate skeleton resting on the other side. He did not trust himself to fall asleep and kept the edge of the blade close to the tip of his thumb. Whenever his body slacked, the pain shocked him back to consciousness. During this time his parched mouth raged for thirst. His lips and tongue were dried husks and felt as rough as sand. The splashing of the salt water against his skin made him yearn for a sip of something wet, but he knew to do so would invite death.

The dawn came with explosive colors of pink and red over the blue sea; the Prince wished he could admire the dawn from the comfort of the palace. He stood, but his back and neck were stiff from the sleepless night.

He scanned the horizon for signs of a sail. Aside from sharpening the dagger, it was the only thing he could do to keep his mind off of the creeping madness. Hours passed. The sun rose higher and the unbearable heat returned. Once he saw something white treading the horizon and believed it to be a sail, but it was only a puff of clouds. By midday there was still no sign of ship or sail.