"Listen ye well,
young masters," the old salt drew forward in his chair, his
sudden seriousness a stark contrast to the lighthearted air he'd held
while regaling them a mere moment earlier. “There're things out in
the depths that'd make a man piss 'imself at the mere mention of
their name.”
“Aye, the Kraken.
Leviathan. We've heard those stories before, Cap'n. Everyone from the
powder monkies to Auld Gran back home seems to think we're new to
those tales.”
“I ain't talkin' 'bout
them!” the Captain growled. Then, with a sigh, he calmed himself.
“Those may be flesh, may be fable. I know not, for I ain't seen
'em. I do know what I seen ain't a mere story, though.”
The young men were
intrigued now. They drew closer to the graybeard, thankful for his
place near the fire; the chill of his words made them shiver. The
pair watched him light his pipe with an ember held in a pair of
tongs. “Well, go on then,” the slightly younger one beckoned.
The old salt took a long
sip of his pipe before beginning: “It was, oh, 'bout forty years
ago by my reckon. I weren't much older than the two of yous. We were
crossing the 'Lantic. I don't know where- I'd no mind of navigation
at the time. I just know we were three days of good wind off the
Carolinas. We were plyin' along, makin' good time, when all the
sudden the ship stopped. I was thrown to the deck as if a rug had
been yanked from under me. Nearly bit off me tongue.
'Reef!' someone cried,
but it was more a question than anythin' else.
'Ain't no reefs here,
boys!' the cap'n called, but he was just as confused as all o' us.
Then, from up in the
crow's nest, me friend Whitby yells that there's two islands to
either side of us. So, I grab the rail and hove meself up to peer
starb'rd. Sure as salt in seawater, I see not just an island, but a
full mountain pokin' out the waves... 'Least, that's what I thought
at first.” The old man's voice trailed away, and he took another
sip of the spicy smoke emanating from his pipe.
“They were tall, dark,
but smooth,” he began again. “Couldn't see no beach. 'Course, I
assumed it was just the waves and distance hidin' the strand. I
looked up to see me cap'n checkin' his charts, cursin', blasphemin'
and the like. Woulda turned the cheeks of you two redder 'n an apple,
and put hair on your chests just as well.” The young men smiled a
bit at the humor, but the old man never released his hard grimace.
“'We're on some kind of
shore, cap'n!' someone called. I looked o'erboard and saw that it was
true; we were caught upon a shallow that appeared to be the same
dun-gray color as the mountains. Now boys, I know sharkskin when I
see it, and I seen it then. I couldn't believe it meself, but 'twas
true. Before I could say anythin' though, me breath was stole away;
those mountains were sinkin' 'neath the waves as I watched! They went
down as smoothly as a dolphin, no wakes, no foam, no splash... Just
down. The ship lurched, and again we were all thrown onto the deck
like nothing more than tin soldiers. Less so, as we were about to
learn!” The captain was slowly becoming frantic now, his voice
growing in strength, beer-spittle spraying at his crescendos. The
pair of men were enraptured. Truly, this was a story new to their
ears.
“The ship was moving
backward, against the wind, against our headin'. We were floatin'
free, for when I looked back o'er the rail, the sharkskin-sandbar was
gone. After awhile, the good winds tugged our sails enough to slow us
to a stop. We were all prayin' it would keep, hopin' to be rid of
these strange islands, and mountains, and sandbars... but somethin'
began to rise from the depths behind us. I reckon we all had a
thought to run to the aft to watch, but that thing was comin' up so
quick we didn't need to. God, we dared not move when we saw it! The
sheer size dwarfed the boat... and still it rose! She
rose!” He took on a thousand-yard stare, glancing from one listener
to another while his tale went on.
“As
if it were a mass of hair or the hood of a cloak, her head bore fins
that traveled down the rest of her body; their tips were the
mountains I'd seen curling out of the water. Her eyes were the abyss.
Her mouth, a whirlpool. Gills flexed at her neck, pairs of slits that
stood out against skin as pale as an iceberg. And she was enormous!
Already she reached to heaven, but higher and higher she rose,
sargassum sloughing off in great sheets, first blocking out the wind,
and then the sun. We sailors could do naught but stare. However, a
thought breached the walls of my stupor. Her form became recognizable
to me in that instant: a manta ray! My eyes beheld the gigantic,
impossible, abominable body of a half-woman, half-manta!” His
volume was unavoidable now. Other faces in the pub were turning
toward the old man, either intrigued by his story or disdainful at
the mad gleam in his eyes that shone brighter and brighter with every
sentence.
“How
big was she?” someone asked.
“Oh,
she was larger than anythin' ye can imagine! She towered over us as a
goddess, and she wasn't even halfway surfaced! We were naught but
specks before her, our ship no larger than a coin between her
fingers! Her gullet could down us as easily as you down a cherry! Her
breath could fill our sails without effort! Thirty men could dine
upon her teat!”
There
were some whistles and cheers at the mention of breasts. “What did
she do?” came another voice, finally.
“She
only looked upon us like one would an exotic bug. Curiosity dwelt
behind those terrible black eyes, but still we were frozen in place,
our minds reelin' from the shock of her. After awhile, she began to
sink back to the depths. Her spread fins released the sun, and then
gave us back the wind. When her head sank out of view, our sails
fin'ly billowed, and we were back on our headin'. The crew never
spoke of it again... not for the whole trip, and not after! When we
made port many a-man refused to ever ply the seas again. I surely
considered it meself...” The cap'n grew silent, except for the
puffing of his pipe.
“What
a crock of shit!” The younger boy cried. “You expect us to
believe that? A giant cunt in the water that's half-manta ray? She
didn't even do anything worth telling the story over!”
The
old salt's eyes took on a white fury hotter than the flame he sat
beside. “Believe it whether ye will or will not, young master! I
know what I saw! Ye cannae ev'n imagine it! Ye who would stand
witless before an elephant! Ye who would swoon at the height of a
redwood! Not a story worth tellin'? Pah! Thank your stars I tell you
of it now! Thank God for us all that she's out there and not here!
Can ye imagine the sheer terror of such a creature loomin' over you?
Blottin' out the sun and stars and clouds and wind, fishes and
seagrass rainin' down in the cascades off her fins because the poor
critters couldn't escape the sheer size of her? Thank God that she is
placid! I have seen the ancient tomes that preach of her wrath! I
have read the Liber Oceani! 'She will rise from the depths, and in
her terrible anger her name shall be Mobula!' She would wipe away
this port with a single hand! She would crush cities in mere minutes!
Were her will so, our nation would sink beneath the tsunamis wrought
by her fins! Can ye imagine it? No! For you have not seen! Oh God, I
beg ye she remain in her depths!”
“Captain
Frederick, enough!” the harsh cry of the barwoman cut through his
madness like a knife. “You have had far too much to drink for one
night!” she marched over and seized up the old man in a burly arm.
“Not
drunk! Ye all be blind! I have seen! I have seen! Believe me!” he
spat, nearly foaming at the mouth, while a few strong men helped
carry him to an upstairs room. The old man twisted in their grasp,
and cried animal growls as madness overcame him fully. His final
words before a door silenced him were “Oh, Mistress Mobula! I
beseech you appear and prove me truthful! Awe and terrify as you have
to me!” Then, it was over. The pub returned to an air of mumbling
conversation.
“What
a loon,” the younger man said to his friend. “What do you think,
Calvin?”
The
older of the pair stayed silent. Such a tale was truly fantastical...
but there was something in the old man's eyes. Something about his
passion, and the fury with which he'd related the story struck Calvin
to his core. “I... I don't know. He seemed sincere enough.”
The
younger man scoffed. “Every madman is sincere to himself. I bet
everything he told us tonight was bollocks. At least the pirates and
cannibals were believable enough, but that last one was, quite
frankly, ridiculous.”
“Maybe,”
was all Calvin could reply. He leaned back from the fire and laid his
head upon the cold glass window. Thunder rattled the pane; a signal
that the storm was growing in its severity. Through the pouring
sheets of rain, he watched as a distant wave crested, appearing as
though a mountain jutting from the sea.