by A. L. Knorr
My mother spoke for the first time since he began the story. "Novak Shipping is guilty of insurance fraud?" I gaped at her thinly veiled threat. Intimidating Martinius was not going to improve our situation.
He paused, then said, "My dear, the statute of limitations has long since expired on the matter. The insurance company doesn't even exist any more. I believe they bankrupted in the 1930's, not long after the stock market crash."
My mother didn't respond, her face was back to being an expressionless mask.
He plucked the folder from between the cushions and opened it. He pulled out two yellowed documents that had each been slipped into a plastic cover to protect them. The first page was covered in pencil sketches of the figurehead, showing it from several different angles as well as whole images of the mermaid and close-ups of her face.
He handed the pages to my mother. They hovered in the air between them for a moment before she reached out and took them.
"These are drawings that the sculptor made for Mattis to approve while the ship was still being built."
We stared at the pencil sketches. My mom may as well have sat and posed for the artist. Mom flipped over to the second document. It was more of the same, only done in colour. The figurehead must have been painted at one time, either that or the sculptor changed his mind and kept it as bare wood. There was no colour on the actual figurehead anymore. Whether that was the effect of the sea and time, I didn't know. The eyes looking out at us from the page were a bright supernatural blue, the hair blue-black and the skin pale.
"How many people have seen these?" asked my mother quietly.
"These documents have always been kept in my private collection, not in the Novak archives. My wife and son both saw them, but as you know they've since passed. I'm sure many Novak employees from the past have also seen them but it has been many years since these sketches have seen the light of day. I had always intended to have it framed and put on display, but I never got around to it."
My mother visibly stiffened but Martinius was already opening the folder once more and removing another document. This one was not antique looking, it was a printout of a news article and it had a photograph with a caption.
"I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when during my search for the best salvage team in the world, I came across this." He handed her the printout.
The headline said: Bluejacket Underwater Recovery & Salvage Team Salvages 'Un-Divable' Wreck To Return Priceless Heirloom.
I recognized the photograph. It was taken less than a year ago. Simon was shaking the hand of a lady in a big hat, displaying all of his teeth in a wide grin. Tyler, Eric, and Micah were all in the shot as well. And of course, standing beside Simon with a bored look on her face, was my mother. The caption on the photograph stated: Lady Margaret Stowe is thrilled to have her mother's priceless brooch back after freak accident claims her luxury catamaran.
I remembered that contract. It wasn't a freak accident; it was an alcoholic captain who'd fallen asleep on the job.
"And then," Martinius continued, "I went to the Bluejacket website and looked at the team roster. There you were again, looking back at me clear as day through Sybellen's eyes."
He pulled out another printout and I recognized this one, too. Martinius had taken it directly from the Bluejacket website. It was my mom in her uniform, standing for a professional headshot. No smile, just a perfunctory pose to get the job done.
"Sybellen," Martinius said quietly but with such emotion that we both looked up. My heart squeezed painfully in response to the expression on his face. There were no tears, but his face was full of wonder and his eyes were shining. He looked heart-broken and full of joy at the same time.
His voice cracked with emotion. "You've come home."
Chapter 22
I couldn't breathe. Something was very wrong. How could my mother be the long-lost Sybellen? It wasn't possible. She was Mira MacAuley - my mother and the deceased Nathan MacAuley's beloved wife. I had no siblings, I was my mother's first and only child. She'd told me so.
"You don't understand," my mother's voice broke through my swirl of thoughts. She spoke far more gently than I had ever heard her speak to anyone outside our family. "I'm not Sybellen."
"Please, don't deny it," Martinius said, leaning back against his chair and holding out his palms. "How can you look at those images and tell me that's not you?"
"Because it's true. I am not your long lost however many greats-grandmother. It's impossible," she said, gently.
Martinius looked at her as though he could not believe that she was denying who and what she was in the face of all of the evidence. I wondered if she was going to call him crazy next and make the poor old guy question his own sanity. I understood the need to protect our identities but I wasn't sure how she was going to explain it all away. Here we were standing on two legs but our hair was wet and we'd clearly just seen the figurehead for ourselves and we hadn't taken a boat from the fleet out to do it. There was no hiding from Martinius, it was clear that he knew what we were.
He had begun to splutter in protest but my mom went on. "We can live a very, very long time, that's true. But I'm still young for a siren."
I looked at her with surprise. So there it was. She'd admitted it. I looked at Martinius. He'd slumped in relief when she'd admitted the truth but he still looked confused.
"I'm nowhere near as old as your ship. My daughter is 17 and she is my first and only child. I left the ocean to find my husband when I was only 19."
Martinius did not look convinced.
"Look," she continued, "I'm admitting that I am what you think I am. And Sybellen was too, I have no doubt about that, but Sybellen is more than likely an ancestor of mine. My own mother died when I was very young, I was lucky to have survived on my own. She didn't tell me much about my lineage. Mermaids don't keep family records and I never knew anyone else from my line."
His expression was wilting and I thought maybe he was beginning to doubt himself. He took the pages from my mother's hands.
"But... these," he said, holding them up. "You are she. She is you."
Mom shook her head. "I'm sorry. Look at my daughter. We look a lot alike. We pass our genes down to our daughters. It is likely that I am related to Sybellen, but I don't know her. I wouldn't have come to Gdańsk in the first place if I had recognized the name. Do you think I would have endangered my daughter by bringing her to a place where people might know what she is?"
I thought from his expression that maybe he was beginning to believe her now, but he didn't want to. "It's true, Martinius," I added. "I know my mother. She wouldn't lie about this."
Mom gave me a grateful look and then said, "I'm very sorry," with real sympathy. Her kindness impressed me. When it was necessary, she did have it in her. She surprised me even more when she added, "Think how lucky it is that you got this far. You can say that it's very likely that Sybellen was indeed a siren. You've found your ship, and it's perfectly preserved and positioned for a successful salvage, which almost never happens. And you're the only man I've ever met who knows that we exist." Then with an edge in her voice, "And I hope you realize how important it is that it stays that way."
"Does Antoni know?" I blurted.
Martinius shook his head and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been keeping in. "No," he said. "No one does. Do you think they'd let me keep control of my company if I started raving that mermaids were real? It's on our family crest for Pete's sake. They'd think I'd gone stark raving mad." He chuckled dryly.
"Good," said my mother. "Do we have your word then that you won't tell a soul?"
"Of course," he said, affronted. "I have no interest in ruining my reputation and losing my business, as much fun as it would be to spook everyone. There is a clause in my Presidential contract that stipulates that if reason and I part company then so will Novak Shipping." He grew thoughtful. "Do you think that you could find her for me? Sybellen. I'll pay you whatever you want."
My mother was shaking her head before he was even finished. "You don't know what you're asking, Martinius. It would be impossible. There is over 330 million cubic miles of ocean out there and we're nomadic by nature. She could be anywhere. She could also be salt-flush by now."
"Salt-flush?" Martinius asked.
"If a siren spends enough time in salt water she'll slowly change over time. She becomes a primal creature with very little memory of where she's been or who she's known. Even if I found her, the odds of which are almost zero, she might not even remember Mattis. And I'm not about to try and force-feed a salt-flush siren with fresh water. I'd be taking my life in my hands."
"I see," he said, resigned.
We sat in silence for a time. The fire crackled peacefully.
"Well, I am grateful to have come this far. You can't imagine the efforts the Novak family has put into finding The Sybellen," said Martinius as he got to his feet, moving stiffly. We stood up as well. "It is remarkable that one of the stories that Jan told me when I was little actually turned out to be true. Sybellen truly was or is a mermaid, if she's still alive. How much I wish he was around today so I could ask him if he'd always known or if he'd just made it up to delight the ears of his young grandson." He then raised his bushy eyebrows at my mother. "You'll stay and finish out the project, I hope?"
"Please," my mother scoffed, "those boys are lost without me."
Martinius barked a laugh. "I'm sure they are. There's no salvage team on earth that could compete with you two."
There was no reason to tell Martinius that up until yesterday, we thought I was human. I was useless when it came to salvage work.
"Listen," my mother said. "We have another sensitive issue, one that I'll need to address before Monday and in secret."
"What's that?" Martinius asked, steepling his fingers. The emotion had been tucked away. The businessman was back.
"My team can't see that figurehead. I've removed the algae from it and my obvious resemblance to it is a danger to my daughter and I. May I have your permission to remove it from the ship? Very carefully, of course."
Maybe Martinius bought the sincerity of her request, but I knew Mom. She was only asking as a courtesy. Come Monday morning, with or without his permission, the wreck would no longer have a figurehead. She would do whatever was necessary to protect us. I held my breath and watched his face as he mulled this over.
"I had intended to remove only the cargo that was worth recovering. I had wanted The Sybellen herself to be left alone. But I understand your dilemma." He went quiet again, thinking it over. Finally, "I can have a preservation box released to you for the figurehead. If you can guarantee neither the figurehead nor the ship will be damaged upon separation, then you have my permission to retrieve it. Although, even for the two of you I can imagine it will be a difficult job. How do you propose to bring it back to shore?"
“Let me worry about that. You have a case for the box? We can't afford to have anyone inspect it," my mother replied. "Can we arrange to deliver it to you personally under cover of night? And where will you plan to keep it?"
"This is my personal library, no one comes in here without my invitation, except for you... today," he added, and his mouth twitched with humour. "Are you satisfied to store it here? We can cover it and lock it. Once you leave, it eventually won't be such a sensitive issue. Do you agree?"
She nodded. My mother was stretching herself a lot for him. She would rather destroy the figurehead altogether and erase any connection between The Sybellen and us. The agreement meant that we had to trust Martinius with our secret. The only reason she was bothering to negotiate was because he had no motive to expose us. Like he'd said, control of his company would be at stake.
My mother held out her hand. "To our understanding, and your word as a gentleman.”
"We have an accord." Then he shook my hand too.
Chapter 23
Martinius had his staff load a watertight box into the back of a truck for us. It was enclosed in a black crate with his company name stamped across it. Mom explained that he'd told the staff that it was for the dive the following week and since everyone knew that a salvage project was about to start, no one so much as blinked at it.
After dark, we drove the truck down to the empty beach and went back into the ocean for the second time that day. It was the first time I had gone for a night swim as a mermaid.
This time it was all business. We got to the wreck as quickly as we could. I was amazed at how efficiently our eyes handled the dark. The wreck was almost as visible to me now as it had been during the day.
Now that Martinius knew what we were doing, I had imagined some kind of delicate process where my mom used a tool to pry the figurehead loose in a more respectful way. I was wrong about that.
She first blew the remaining algae away from the whole thing with her powerful little stream of water, so it wasn't so slippery. Then, she had no problems prying it away from the ship with her bare hands. The waterlogged wood groaned and squeaked as the nails came loose. The sculpture came away in one whole piece, leaving a flat empty space behind it.
I looked at the bare wood. “Do you think the lack of algae on the empty space might tip off the guys?" It was clear as day that the figurehead had recently been removed.
"Don't think so," Mom said. "The figurehead isn't on the list, and human divers have so little mobility and time when they do these dives that they don't waste time exploring areas of the ship that aren't of interest to the task. "I wouldn't worry, but I'll keep an eye."
My mother carried the figurehead the entire way back to shore all by herself. So far, I had been no help at all. It took us a lot longer to get back to shore than it had to get out to the ship because the figurehead slowed her down considerably – not because she found it heavy, but because its bulky design wasn't aqua-dynamic in the least.
When we reached shore and traded our fins for legs, we left the figurehead submerged in water and went to the truck. We opened the crate and carried the empty box down to the beach where we submerged it to fill it with seawater. We floated the figurehead into the box, ensuring that it never emerged from the water.
Before we sealed up the box we just stood there, looking at the figurehead.
"Is it just a coincidence that she looked so much like you, do you think?" I looked back and forth between the two identical faces.
Mom eyed up her wooden likeness thoughtfully. "No, its not likely a coincidence. I'm almost positive Sybellen is related to us somehow. I've met enough mermaids to know that they’re as varied in colour and shape as humans are. Maybe more.”
"I wonder if she's still alive, and if she is, whether she remembers her past.”
Mom shrugged as we sealed the box with the figurehead and water inside. "I doubt we'll ever find out. A shame, really. I'm curious about her but not enough to spend a lifetime in a futile search." She double checked the locks and added, "We have to leave it sitting in the seawater until Martinius decides what to do with it."
"Why?" I asked, as we floated the box towards the beach, one of us on either side.
"It's an archival thing," she said. "It's been sitting in seawater for so long that if we let it dry out without transitioning it slowly, it will rot at light speed. Not that I'd care, but this is what Martinius asked for," she said as she snapped the lid shut.
"How thoughtful of you." I raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you perhaps have a soft spot for the old fellow?"
She gave a half-smile and snorted but didn't answer.
Between the two of us, we carried what must have been several hundred pounds of figurehead, water, and box, and loaded it back onto the truck. Piece of cake.
It was sometime after four in the morning when we returned to the estate. The hallways were deserted. We put the box onto a waiting trolley and used the service elevator to take it up to the fourth floor.
Martinius was eagerly awaiting his delivery. He looked tired but his eyes were gleaming with excitement as he ope
ned the door for us. We pushed it into his library and parked it in the spot he'd cleared for it. He pulled away the collapsible sides of the crate to look at the figurehead. He put a hand against the glass like he wished he could touch it.
He said some words in Polish to himself. It sounded like he was speaking to a lover. "I am still not entirely sure whether to believe you. You cannot deny that the resemblance is remarkable.”
"It is," she agreed.
"Thank you for this,“ he said. "I wasn't going to take this piece from the ship but I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm happy to have the excuse to do so."
We wished him a good night and went back to our suite. With that done, we both collapsed into bed.
Mom slept in until noon the next day but I was up and out of bed early. I was too excited by this big change in my life to spend it sleeping. I pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and went down to find some food. They always set out a buffet breakfast in one of the large rooms on the ground floor. They kept it hot until eleven and then cleared it away.
The breakfast room was empty of people and the food was untouched; I was the first one here. I loaded up a plate with a heap that would have embarrassed a lumberjack: Scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausages, scalloped potatoes, steamed asparagus and spinach swimming in butter. My mouth was salivating furiously. I put some steamed salmon on my plate as well.
While I was enjoying the tender fish, a memory surfaced. As soon as I was old enough to be aware of the irony of my mother eating fish, I'd asked her about it. "Doesn't it make you a cannibal?" She'd laughed and explained that it was no different from humans eating land animals. Mermaids don't have to eat fish to survive in the wild, but many of them do. The salt draws out their predatory nature.
I was patting my mouth with my napkin when Antoni walked by the open door. He must have spotted me in the corner of his eye because he reappeared and came in. "I was looking all over for you yesterday. Where did you go?"
