“I’ll not give her thee, nor her life shalt thou save,
(
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
For my seven brave vessels she swamped in the
wave, My pleasure thus she has not done.”
Mermaid Joy Ride
155
Black, black as a clod grew the Queen at that word,
(
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
And down she fell senseless before the King’s
board, Because her will she had fairly done.
“My Queen and my dearest! thy heart shall not
break, (
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
Thou art free to the strand the fair mermaid to
take, Because thy will she has fairly done.”
The mermaid in scarlet so fine she array’d,
(
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
Although she had heard her own death by her
spaed, For thus, for thus, her will she’d done.
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156
The Queen gave command to the maids in her
train: (
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
“Convey ye the mermaid hence down to the main,
For she my will has fairly done.”
Upon the blue billows the mermaid they place,
(
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
The Queen fell to weeping, and sad was each face,
For she her will, alack! had done.
“O prythee don’t weep, and O prythee don’t grieve,
(
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
Heaven’s portals stand open thy soul to receive,
Now I thy will have fairly done.
“In the mansions of Heaven thou aye shalt remain,
(
The mermaid dances the floor upon
)
And there perfect quiet and rest thou shalt gain—
Now all thy will, fair Queen, I’ve done!”
157
A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.
—WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
If you have ever been to the sea on a cold and cloudy day,
perhaps in early autumn or mid-winter, and stood with
your feet bravely buried in the icy sand looking out into
the long expansive horizon of sea meeting wintery sky, then
you have been watched by a mermaid. If you have ever
strolled along the harbor, the fog lifting as the day lightens,
CHAPTER
8
C
OOMARA’S
C
ALLING
Among the Mermaids
158
contemplating your current state of affairs and inhaling
deeply that salty air, you have been observed by one of the
mer-folk. And if you have ever lost yourself diving into the
turquoise waters and thickets of coral and kelp, imagining
that you are no longer dependent on air to live, watching
your hair float around you like seaweed, then you have come
closer than you think to becoming part of the mermaid’s clan.
Lobster Pots
I first read T. Crofton Croker’s
The Soul Cages
as a school-
girl, and those lobster pots have haunted my mind ever since.
Croker was a native of Cork, Ireland, born in 1798. He was
devoted to collecting Irish folklore and poetry, in particular
traditional funeral customs. I happened
upon this version while reading a
book put together by W.B. Yeats
back in 1888,
Fairy and Folk Tales
of Irish Peasantry.
Yeats was a great
scholar of Irish folklore as well as the
occult. In 1911 he became a member of The Ghost Club—a
paranormal research group, one of the first of its kind!
So whether you prefer your mermaids poolside or from
the watery depths of the great Irish Sea, if you consider them
Coomara’s Calling
159
sultry or simply amusing, this story will leave you imagining
a life under the water. A beautiful, enchanting, terrifying life,
full of the ghosts of the dead sailors and the arms of the oc-
topus keeping you deep, deep below, trapped in the lobster
pots, and lulled to sleep by the sound of the siren’s song.
The Soul Cages
by T. Crofton Croker
Jack Dogherty lived on the coast of the county Clare. Jack
was a fisherman, as his father and grandfather before him
had been. Like them, too, he lived all alone (but for the wife),
and just in the same spot. People used to wonder why the
Dogherty family were so fond of that wild situation, so far
away from all human kind, and in the midst of huge shat-
tered rocks, with nothing but the wide ocean to look upon.
But they had their own good reasons for it.
The place was just the only spot on that part of the coast
where anybody could well live. There was a neat little creek,
Among the Mermaids
160
where a boat might lie as snug as a puffin in her nest, and out
from this creek a ledge of sunken rocks ran into the sea. Now
when the Atlantic, according to custom, was raging with a
storm, and a good westerly wind was blowing strong on the
coast, many a richly-laden ship went to pieces on these rocks;
and then the fine bales of cotton and tobacco, and such like
things, and the pipes of wine and the puncheons of rum, and
the casks of brandy, and the kegs of Hollands that used to
come ashore! Dunbeg Bay was just like a little estate to the
Doghertys.
Naught but they were kind and humane to a distressed
sailor, if ever one had the good luck to get to land; and many
Coomara’s Calling
161
a time indeed did Jack put out in his little
corragh
(which,
though not quite equal to honest Andrew Hennessy’s canvas
life-boat, would breast the billows like any gannet), to lend a
hand towards bringing off the crew from a wreck. But when
the ship had gone to pieces, and the crew were all lost, who
would blame Jack for picking up all he could find?
“And who is the worse for it?” said he. “For as to the king,
God bless him! Everybody knows he’s rich enough already
without getting what’s floating in the sea.”
Jack, though such a hermit, was a good-natured, jolly fel-
low. No other, sure, could ever have coaxed Biddy Mahony
to quit her father’s snug and warm house in the middle of
the town of Ennis, and to go so many miles off to live among
the rocks, with the seals and sea-gulls for next-door neigh-
bours. But Biddy knew that Jack was the man for a woman
who wished to be comfortable and happy; for to say nothing
of the fish, Jack had the supplying of half the gentlemen’s
houses of the country with the
Godsends
that came into
the bay. And she was right in her choice; for no woman
ate,
drank, or slept better, or made a prouder appearance at cha-
pel on Sundays, than Mrs. Dogherty.
Many a strange sight, it may well be supposed, did
Jack see, and many a strange sound did he hear, but noth-
ing daunted him. So far was he from being afraid of Mer-
rows, or such beings, that the very first wish of his heart
Among the Mermaids
162
was to fairly meet with one. Jack had heard that they were
mighty like Christians, and that luck had always come out
of an acquaintance with them. Never, therefore, did he dimly
discern the Merrows moving along the face of the waters in
their robes of mist, but he made direct for them; and many
a scolding did Biddy, in her own quiet way, bestow upon
Jack for spending his whole day out
at sea, and bringing home no fish.
Little did poor Biddy know the fish
Jack was after!
It was rather annoying to Jack
that, though living in a place where
the Merrows were as plenty as lob-
sters, he never could get a right view
of one. What vexed him more was that both his father and
grandfather had often and often seen them; and he even re-
membered hearing, when a child, how his grandfather, who
was the first of the family that had settled down at the creek,
had been so intimate with a Merrow that, only for fear of
vexing the priest, he would have had him stand for one of
his children. This, however, Jack did not well know how to
believe.
Fortune at length began to think that it was only right
that Jack should know as much as his father and grandfather
did. Accordingly, one day when he had strolled a little far-
Little did poor
Biddy know the
fish Jack was
after!
Coomara’s Calling
163
ther than usual along the coast to the northward, just as he
turned a point, he saw something, like to nothing he had ever
seen before, perched upon a rock at a little distance out to
sea. It looked green in the body, as well as he could discern at
that distance, and he would have sworn, only the thing was
impossible, that it had a cocked hat in its hand. Jack stood
for a good half-hour straining his eyes, and wondering at it,
and all the time the thing did not stir hand or foot. At last
Jack’s patience was quite worn out, and he gave a loud whistle
and a hail, when the Merrow (for such it was) started up, put
the cocked hat on its head, and dived down, head foremost,
from the rock.
Jack’s curiosity was now excited, and he constantly di-
rected his steps towards the point; still he could never get
a glimpse of the sea-gentleman with
the cocked hat; and with thinking and
thinking about the matter, he began at
last to fancy he had been only dreaming.
One very rough day, however, when the
sea was running mountains high, Jack
Dogherty determined to give a look at
the Merrow’s rock (for he had always chosen a fine day be-
fore), and then he saw the strange thing cutting capers upon
the top of the rock, and then diving down, and then coming
up, and then diving down again.
Among the Mermaids
164
Jack had now only to choose his time (that is, a good
blowing day), and he might see the man of the sea as often
as he pleased. All this, however, did not satisfy him—“much
will have more”; he wished now to get acquainted with the
Merrow, and even in this he succeeded. One tremendous
blustering day, before he got to the point whence he had a
view of the Merrow’s rock, the storm came on so furiously
that Jack was obliged to take shelter in one of the caves which
are so numerous along the coast; and there, to his astonish-
ment, he saw sitting before him a
thing with green hair, long green
teeth, a red nose, and pig’s eyes. It
had a fish’s tail, legs with scales on
them, and short arms like fins. It
wore no clothes, but had the cocked
hat under its arm, and seemed en-
gaged thinking very seriously about
something.
Jack, with all his courage, was
a little daunted; but now or never,
thought he; so up he went boldly to the cogitating fishman,
took off his hat, and made his best bow.
“Your servant, sir,” said Jack.
“Your servant, kindly, Jack Dogherty,” answered the
Merrow.
It wore no clothes,
but had the cocked
hat under its
arm, and seemed
engaged thinking
very seriously
about something.
Coomara’s Calling
165
“To be sure, then, how well your honour knows my
name!” said Jack.
“Is it I not know your name, Jack Dogherty? Why man,
I knew your grandfather long before he was married to Judy
Regan, your grandmother! Ah, Jack, Jack, I was fond of that
grandfather of yours; he was a mighty worthy man in his
time: I never met his match above or below, before or since,
for sucking in a shellful of brandy. I hope, my boy,” said the
old fellow, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, “I hope you’re his
own grandson!”
“Never fear me for that,” said Jack; “if my mother had
only reared me on brandy, ’tis myself that would be a sucking
infant to this hour!”
“Well, I like to hear you talk so manly; you and I must
be better acquainted, if it were only for your grandfather’s
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166
sake. But, Jack, that father of yours was not the thing! He
had no head at all.”
“I’m sure,” said Jack, “since your honour lives down under
the water, you must be obliged to drink a power to keep any
beat in you in such a cruel, damp, cold place. Well, I’ve often
heard of Christians drinking like fishes; and might I be so
bold as ask where you get the spirits?”
“Where do you get them yourself, Jack?” said the Merrow,
twitching his red nose between his forefinger and thumb.
“Hubbubboo,” cried Jack, “now I see how it is; but I sup-
pose, sir, your honour has got a fine dry cellar below to keep
them in.”
“Let me alone for the cellar,” said the Merrow, with a
knowing wink of his left eye.
“I’m sure,” continued Jack, “it must be mighty well worth
the looking at.”
“You may say that, Jack,” said the Merrow; “and if you
meet me here next Monday, just at this time of the day,
we will have a little more talk with one another about the
matter.”
Jack and the Merrow parted the best friends in the world.
On Monday they met, and Jack was not a little surprised
to see that the Merrow had two cocked hats with him, one
under each arm.
Coomara’s Calling
167
“Might I take the liberty to ask, sir,” s
aid Jack, “why your
honour has brought the two hats with you today? You would
not, sure, be going to give me one of them, to keep for the
cu-
riosity
of the thing?”
“No, no, Jack,” said he, “I don’t get my hats so easily, to
part with them that way; but I want you to come down and
dine with me, and I brought you that hat to dive with.”
“Lord bless and preserve us!” cried Jack in amazement,
“would you want me to go down to the bottom of the salt
sea ocean? Sure, I’d be smothered and choked up with the
water, to say nothing of being drowned! And what would
poor Biddy do for me, and what would she say?”
Among the Mermaids
168
“And what matter what she says, you pinkeen? Who
cares for Biddy’s squalling? It’s long before your grandfather
would have talked in that way. Many’s the time he stuck that
same hat on his head, and dived down boldly after me; and
many’s the snug bit of dinner and good shellful of brandy he
and I have had together below, under the water.”
“Is it really, sir, and no joke?” said Jack; “why, then, sorrow
from me forever and a day after, if I’ll be a bit worse man
nor my grandfather was! Here goes—but play me fair now.
Here’s neck or nothing!” cried Jack.
“That’s your grandfather all over,” said the old fellow; “so
come along, then, and do as I do.”
They both left the cave, walked into the sea, and then
swam a piece until they got to the rock. The Merrow climbed
to the top of it, and Jack followed him. On the far side it was
as straight as the wall of a house, and the sea beneath looked
so deep that Jack was almost cowed.
“Now, do you see, Jack,” said the Merrow: “just
put this hat on your head, and mind to keep your
eyes wide open. Take hold of my tail, and follow
after me, and you’ll see what you’ll see.”
In he dashed, and in dashed Jack after him
boldly. They went and they went, and Jack
thought they’d never stop going. Many a time
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