Salt saturated the air and settled itself into the wood’s grains like the clusters of barnacles on the hull of the ship. The sails, ropes and every article of clothing were drenched with the sea’s vapor as well as the crew’s sweat, but still the group of men and women worked under the sparsely decorated mid-morning sky. On deck, piles of nets and heaps of dead or dying sea life twitched and emitted a layer of cooking rot that hovered inches above the carcasses. One by one crabs, urchins, and sea grass were picked up and thrown in separate piles accordingly while the fish were left on the deck for later.
Bodies carefully picked their way through the mounds as they pulled on ropes or cleared an area for the new load being lifted out of the water. A myriad of shouts coordinated together to pull the heavy net out of the water, up the side of the hull, into the air and finally over the steaming deck. Within three short commands, the area was cleared from crew members and the net dropped. Along with the sound of a couple hundred fish bouncing on top of their brethren, a loud thud got the attention of the closest crew mates. A series of calls for the Captian echoed from person to person until the message was delivered below deck by a sea sick girl to the Captian herself.
A dark-skinned woman of thirty-something swung open the warped door with a bowl of oatmeal in one decorated hand and a spoon in the other. Icora already had her coat on her shoulders and boots laced, she handed the apprentice her bowl and spoon and started to tie back her tangled black hair into a loose pony tail.
“Go back an’ lie down Martie- I heard the commotion from updeck when they started holorin’.” Icora gently pushed the lanky girl back towards the bunks with her elbow.
“Alright cap’tan, tell me what goin’ on when ya get back, yeah?” Martie wobbled down aisle with the empty spoon in her mouth.
“If you’re awake to ‘ear it.”
Icora forwent the idea of tying her hair back and proceeded to wrap her forehead with a stained turquoise cloth, the common visage of the captain, as she climbed up. She threw back the door and shielded her eyes against the rising sun. Kicking fish out of her path, members of the crew ushered her forward wreaking Icora’s headache.
She scowled, “Alright, Alright! Settle down one at a time, Brinkley! Where are ya?”
The first mate pushed his way passed two large twins, “Here, Captian,” He turned to the crowd, “Back up, folks, captain's here, let's clear tha way an' get back to work!”
A number of the crew nodded and returned to their task at hand while others backed away but still kept an eye on the situation. Icora slid her arms into her leather coat as Brinkley lead her to the far side of the deck. To the left another net sagging with the weight of fish was pulled out of the sea.
A wall of bodies surrounded the object of interest and only when the captain announced her arrival did the fortress open up. The captain stepped forward to see a woman-like figure picking kelp from her hair on top of the mound of flopping fish. The mermaid glanced over frowning and made the effort to flip her iridescent tail over so that her body faced the Captian.
“I thought we agreed to stop meeting like this.” The mermaid’s voice was low and smooth, but obviously displeased, however she spoke fluently and loud enough so the circle could understand her. A rarity among her kind; merpeople didn’t need a spoken dialect because of their usual underwater status. The mermaid flicked a wet clump away from her face, her frown becoming more prominent.
Icora barked out a laugh that made the entire ship’s deck go silent. Her heels crushed a fish’s skull as she stepped forward and bent down to face the gray-skinned catch.
“I may be named after Icarus, but you are the one that flies too close to the sun!”
The maid scoffed and turned away from the Captian and tried to pull her way to the boat’s railing. “Very well! I’ll take my leave now.”
The captain watched smiling as the crew sidestepped the topless creature as she pulled her body down fish carcases, her silver fin following uselessly in the damp heat.
“Oh, come now, Cera, you just got ‘ere! Come, stay until the sun set and have a few drinks. We’ll share stories and a few laughs.” Cerinthe screeched as she was lifted by her waist up into the air by the captain herself. She clawed for the cursed wooden planks until she was flipped over and made to face Icara’s square face. “I insist.” Her broad smile was yellow, square and crooked and her breath was a sickening mixture of cheap gin and sea food.
The mermaid reared back, pushing her body away from the pirate while her tail flailed for a solid surface as Icora spun around and presented her like a prize to those silently listening on deck.
“Listen and look fast fellas! Someone specials payin’ us a visit! Treat’er nice an well and I might just let ya dogs have supper inside. Got it?”
“Aye, Captain!” The bodies on deck shouted before returning to the normal work, letting the net on the left side drop to the floor.
Cerinthe sighed in defeat and pushed her hands in her armpits. Looking away from her captor, she said, “I hate you, you know that right?”
“Huh?” The Captain started to move back to the shade of the cabin; refuge from the growing aura. “I thought pirates and mermaids had great relationships with each other.” She laughed.
Back in the dim light, Cerinthe shivered and shook lose droplets of water. Her tail slid against the wooden pillars and her hair stuck to the walls and slapped each step as they went down. The lower deck was only lit by a single lamp and the shards of lights that broke through the shutters and accompanied by the rhythmic swinging and grinding of rope against rope. Carelessly, Icora's boots pounded down the aisle, walking in time to the boats swaying. She barged through the doorway into the chaotic entanglement of hammocks, crates, and canvas sacks.
A few feet from the entrance, Martie looked up, she looked sicker in the flickering light of her personal lantern, but at least the accompanying sight of puke was missing from the scene. The little island-native girl squinted her eyes and switch between the familiar sight of the astute captain and the merlady in her arms.
Cerinthe mumbled and glanced behind her, also squinting in the red light. "Hey... Martie."
"Oh, 'ello Cera... nice to see ya again."
Cerinthe mumbled in reply while Icora set her down in the hammock across from where Martie lay. The majority of her tail settled on the floor and her hair made an ink pool beneath her.
"Keep her company, will ya? I need to finish some work before we all talk." Icora lit another lantern above them and promptly left, footsteps fading until the undeniable sound of the captain's door opening and slamming shut.
Something that felt like silence seeped in from the outside, or maybe from below. The lamp overhead oscillated, pulling the little flame in circles. The grinding of the ropes faded into white noise as Cerinthe stared half-lidded up to the dripping ceiling.
Martie rested her head on the edge of the hammock. "Want me to brush your hair?"
"Sure." She replied.
