Poul Anderson - The Merman's Children

Hauau’s strength was enormous. He held Tauno and Niels on his shoulders while they worked on the pole. Without him, worn as they were, belike they could never have raised the yard and its sodden sail, nor hauled hard enough on the sheets to keep mastery. Forsooth, were he not there to do a triple share of pumping, the hull would have filled.

Still more astonishing was his seamanship. Having explained to his companions what each order he gave would mean, and drilled them in this, he took the helm when they saw surf rage upon clustered rocks. Battered, leaky, sluggish, the cog nonetheless came alive in his hands. It was very near, but they did claw off that trap, and the next and the next. They stayed afloat, they even won back sea room.

As if realizing it could not have them, the storm departed.

“Aye, well can I see ye harne,” Hauau growled. “But first we maun caulk, sprung as this old tub is, or she’ll nae last half the coorse.”

Bast for that purpose was stowed aboard. Ordinarily the ship would have been careened, but Tauno’s crew lacked the needful manpower, besides not daring to lie ashore. Worse than the alienness of Faerie folk, the gold would rouse murder against them. Siblings and selkie could work beneath the waterline, hammering fiber into manifold leaks. Best would have been to tar it on the outside. Since this was impossible, Ingeborg s~ed fire anew on the cooking hearth and kept hot a kettleful of pitch for Niels, who applied it inboard. After a pair of hard days, the task was done. Herning still required occasional pumping, her entire hull remained badly weakened, but Hauau deemed her close enough to seaworthy.

When his fellows had enjoyed a long sleep and broken their fast, he gathered them on deck. It was a quiet morning above mirror-bright water. Gulls cruised air which was blue, with a few clouds as white as their wings, and growing warm. On the horizon off the starboard bow lay a streak of solidity, Ireland.

Tauno and Eyjan sprawled their big fair bodies naked on the planks. Ingeborg was likewise unclad, her filthy raiment soaking overside at the end of a line. So was Niels’, but he kept a cloak tightly around himself, and would not sit. Whenever his glance touched the female forms, flame and snow chased each other through the down on his cheeks.

Hauau hulked in front of them, his hugeness grotesque athwart the day. The hoarse tones coughed from him: “I think we’d be rash tae try beating back aroon’ Scotland and across the North ISea. The vessel wants nursing every fathom o’ the way. Best we pass doon through the Irish Sea, aroon’ through the English Chan nel, and thence past Friesland tae Denmark. ’Tis nae doot a lengthier passage, but belike milder. Too, coasting, should worst come tae worst, we’ll know we can get the humans tae shore alive.”

“Can you pilot?” Tauno asked. “We’re none of us familiar with these parts.”

“Aye, that I can, and warn ye as well wha’ kinds 0’ ship tae steer clear 0’ when we spy their topmasts. The King 0’ England has captains wha’ be harder tae deal wi’ than pirates.”

Eyjan stirred. Her gaze upon the selkie grew intent. “You’ve saved us from wreck, you’ll bring us to haven,” she said low.

“What reward shall be yours?” Hauau’s chest swelled, he struggled to speak, it broke forth in a bellow: “Ingeborg!”

“What?” the woman cried. She raised knees in front of breasts, clutched them with her left arm, traced the Cross with a right hand that shook.

The were-seal half reached toward her. He also shivered. “Whilst we, we sail,” he stammered. “Only whilst we sail. I’ll be gentle, I promise. Och, ’tis been lang alane—”

She looked from him, to Tauno. The halfling’s face drew into bleak lines. “You’ve done too much for us that we should force you,” he said.

Silence grew while she stared at him.

Hauau stirred at last. His shoulders slumped. “Aye, grumly am I,” he mumbled. “I’d stay on anyhoo, but I couldna stand tae see-Farewell. I think ye can mak’ hame wi’oot me. Fare ever well.” He moved toward the rail.

Ingeborg sprang up. “No, wait,” she called, and ran to him. He stopped, agape. She took the great clawed hand in hers. “I’m sorry,” she said; her voice wavered and tears stood in her eyes. “I was just startled, do you understand? Of course I—”

He barked wild laughter and caught her in a bear hug. She wailed for pain. He let go. “Forgi’ me,” he begged. “I forgot. I’ll be gentle, I will.” .

Niels stepped forward, bleached about the nostrils. “No, Ingeborg, don’t,” he said. “We’ve sin aplenty on our souls—and you—”

Her own laughter clattered. “Why, you know what I am,” she retorted. “Here is naught really new. . . is there?”

Eyjan rose, took Niels by the shoulder, whispered into the tangled blond locks that hid his ears. He gasped. Tauno found his feet. He and Hauau locked eyes. “You will treat her kindly,” he said, fingers on the haft of his knife.

Nights were lengthening and darkening as summer wore on, but this one was clear, countlessly starry, ample light for Faerie vision. Herning sailed before a breeze that made the channel blink with wavelets. It rustled and gurgled along the bows; now and then an edge of sail flapped, a block rattled, a timber creakedsmall sounds, lost in the hush-until Hauau roared in the forepeak.

Later he came forth beside Ingeborg, to stand looking outward. Tauno had the helm, Eyjan was in the crow’s nest, but neither paid them any open heed. “I thank ye, lass,” the selkie said humbly.

“You did that already,” the woman replied, with a nod at the darkness under the foredeck.

“I canna do it again?”

“No need. A bargain is a bargain.” He continued to gaze across the water. His grip closed hard on the rail. “Ye dinna like me at all?”

“I meant not that,” she protested. Inch by inch, she moved a hand until it lay across his. “You’re our rescuer and, yes, you are better to me than many I remember. But we are of, well, sundered kin, mortal and, and other. What closeness can ever be between us?”

“I’ve watched your een upon Tauno.”

In haste, Ingeborg asked, “Why didn’t you try Eyjan? She’s beautiful where I’m plain, she’s of your halfworld, and I think she might enjoy-not that I regret, Hauau, sweet.”

“Ye’ll grow used tae the smell,” he promised bitterly.

“But why will you have me?”

He stood long mute. Finally he turned to her, fists clenched, and said: “Because ye be in truth a woman and nae fay.”

She raised her glance toward his. The stiffness began to leave her body. “My folk slew yours,” she said as if in confessional.

“That was hundreds 0’ years agone. We’re well-nigh forgotten on land, and the auld grudge wi’ us. I dwell in peace, afar on Sule Skerry-wind, waves, gulls the ainly speakers, limpets and barnacles the ainly neighbors-at peace, save for storm and shark, whilst winter follows winter—but sometimes it grows dreegh, d’ye ken?”

“Bare rock, bare sea, sky without Heaven. . . . Oh, Hauau!” Ingeborg laid her cheek on his breast. He stroked her with clumsy care.

“But why have you not sought elsewhere?” she wondered after his heart had tolled threescore slow beats.

“I did when younger, wide aboot, and many’s the kittle thing I did see. But by and large, wha’ Faerie people I met wad ha’ small part 0’ me. They saw me as ugly and looked na deeper, for tae them, naught lies below the skin.”

Ingeborg lifted her head. “That’s not true. Not of every halfworlder, at least. Tauno- Tauno and Eyjan—”

“Aye, so it do seem. ’Tis good o’them tae provide for their sister. Natheless. . . in humans like you is more. I canna name it. A warmth, a, a way 0’ loving. . . is it that ye know ye maun dee and therefore cleave tegither the wee span ye hae, or is it a spark 0’ eternity. . . a soul? I dinna ken. I know nobbut that in some men, and in more women, I hae felt it, like a fire on a cauld night. . . . Ye hae it, Ingeborg, bright and strong as e’er I cheered mysel’ by. Reckon yoursel’ lucky in your sorrows, for that ye can love as much as ye do.”