I broke down and cried bitterly at the idea that I would never see my family again. I was stranded in my little dinghy, in the middle of the ocean. All I could see was water for miles around.
Why, oh, why had I insisted on venturing out to the cove today? Why hadn't I heeded the old man's warning? I recalled his words: "There's a storm brewing, I can feel it. Only fools go out in weather like this, and they never return..."
Yet, all the while I cursed myself for being such a fool, I knew that I could not have passed up the chance. It only happened once a year, on this very day. And soon it would ever happen again.
What was so great that I risked my life, you ask? The chance too see a creature that very few people had ever seen before, or would ever see again. The chance to see a creature that only children believed in. The chance to see a mermaid.
A journalist colleague of mine returned from holiday last year claiming he had seen one. He told the office that he had found a beautiful cove. There were no humans around, the area was so peaceful and the view was breathtaking. He was disappointed that he had only found it on his last day of his holiday, August 19th. He just lay there, soaking in the sun's rays, when he saw
something splash in the water. He grabbed his camera, thinking it was a dolphin, and ran closer to the spot. He looked around but could not see anything. He waded into the water, until it was up to his chest. That's when he saw it, just below the surface. Something swam around him, then disappeared. He only caught a glimpse, but, he said he saw a fish tail....and a girl's body!
We all laughed at him, of course, when he told us. Everyone knows there are no such things as mermaids! We all thought he had been suffering from sunstroke. But then, a few weeks later, while I was researching for an obituary of a local children's writer, I found something that changed my mind. In an old interview with her, she talked about why her mermaid stories worked so well. She claimed she had actually seen one, once when she was a young girl. Her description of the cove exactly matched my friend's. Then I noticed the date she claimed to have seen it. August 19th.
So I started to research the area, and that date. Sure enough, a few locals had been reported as seeing a strange creature on that same day, but they had been laughed at. Nowadays, people rarely visited the cove, ever since a large panther-like cat had been spotted in the area.
I knew I had to be there on August 19th. Especially after I found an article that said plans for a sewage outlet in that cove had been approved. It had to be this year. I had to go today.
And yet, now, it all seemed so foolish. The retired fisherman had been right. I had not listened to him. As a result, I had got caught in the storm, ALONE. Just me. With no knowledge of sailing, except for with my father when a teenager. Now I was far out at sea, alone and had lost all my supplies. All I had left was my mermaid research. No one knew where I was. How could I BE so stupid?
What made it all worse, was that it had all been for nothing. I had not seen any mermaids, and now I would die out in this big ocean. I would never see my family or friends again. My tears ran freely.
In fact, I was crying so hard, I failed to notice the ripple in the water, or the figure under the surface, coming towards me.
I was so dehydrated that, when she popped her head up close to my dinghy, I thought I was hallucinating. Who was she? How had she swam to me way out here?
She shook her long, wet hair from side to side, and gave me a knowing wink. Then she smiled, tilted her head and chirruped in a strange voice. I squinted back, trying to make sense of it all.
I noticed that she appeared to be naked. An idea came to me, but I dismissed it. She couldn't be!
"P-pardon?" I asked, not having a clue what language she was speaking.
She circled my dinghy, then came closer for a peak inside. She scooped up my reports and research that I had brought with me, and began to read. She looked puzzled at first, gave me back my papers, then swam away, towards the sea.
"Come back! Please!" I cried, but to no avail.
She was gone in the blink of an eye. Where had she come from? Had I imagined her? I could not be sure. I felt confused. She had seemed so real, yet where had she gone? I started to weep. I was alone again, and there could be no hope of rescue now.
I laid back in the dinghy and waited for death. Hours crept past. I was so hungry and thirsty. All this water around me and none I could drink! I did not know how long I had been stranded for, but it would possibly be months before my body was found.
Then the ripples in the water happened again. But larger ripples this time. I looked over and noticed two figures. The girl was back, and she had brought a man.
She chirruped at me excitedly, and I handed her my research. She gave it to the man. I studied them both, trying to see under the water, to see if I was right, but the water seemed murky. They were both naked as far as I could see, and the man also had long hair.
He perused my documents, then looked up.
"You human? You with the....sewage men?" He asked, handing them back to me.
"Yes, I'm human, but no! I am not with them!" I explained. "I am here to gather information on... the wildlife here... on... you..."
He looked at me, not quite understanding.
"You speak English? And read it, too?" I asked.
"I have learnt a little. Enough to stay safe."
"And she," I pointed to the mermaid, "has she learnt any?"
"No. She has no interest in humans like I do. Not many do. Humans are our enemy."
"I am not. I came here to find you."
"Why?"
"To find the truth. To know that you exist."
"What for? To trap us in cramped cages for people to stare at? To force us to perform tricks?"
"No. I do not want that."
"That would happen. I know. I have seen it with our friends. You call them dolphins and whales."
"I am sorry. Not all mankind are bad."
"You trapped here? Want to go home?"
"Yes!"
"You will not tell anyone about us?"
"Not if you do not want."
"We shall help you. But only if you make a promise."
"What?"
"Save us from the sewage men."
"I shall try my best. I promise."
The man nodded to the girl. She dived into the water. I saw her tail this time. It was green and scaly, like in the stories my grandfather had told me as a child. It shimmered in the sunlight. Then it was gone, with a splash.
I stared at the ripples her tail had left. Wow. It was sheer beauty. I wanted to touch one, to feel the scales.
After five minutes, she returned, with more mermaids. About five of them, as well as the merman, now surrounded me. All the women chirruped amongst themselves. The man replied every now and then.
Then they all pushed my dinghy back to land. Their tails worked in unison to propel me home. I laughed. I was going home! And I had encountered not one, but five mermaids and one merman! I had spoken to one!
The mermaids chirruped loudly.
"Why do you laugh?" The merman asked.
"Because I am happy. I have seen you, spoken to you, and I am going to be safe!"
He translated for the mermaids, who all smiled at me.
"You are welcome back at any time." He told me. "But you must save our cove."
"I will try. But please tell me one more thing. Why do you come to this cove only on this day?"
The merman fell silent, looked towards the mermaids, who were ignoring our conversation, and sighed.
"I am sorry, but that is something I cannot discuss."
No more was said for some time. They dropped me off at the cove.
"You should be safe now. We dare not risk being seen." He said.
"Thank you so much for saving my life."
"Take this." He handed me a small flute. "Whenever you come here, blow this, and I shall come. But, be warned, if any other humans are with you, I shall not surface, and you shall never see us again."
"Thank you."
"Goodbye."
"Wait! I, what is your name?"
"My name is Govan. What is yours?"
"My name is Marie."
"Goodbye, Marie."
"Goodbye, Govan."
I watched them swim away, longing to follow them. But I knew I could not. I had made them a promise. And I was determined to keep it. They had saved my life, and in return, I was going to save theirs.