The Mermaid and the Irish Rover

Friday, July4th, 1806

Co. Cork, Ireland

My father was a sailor. His father was a sailor, and his father before that. My father always told me growing up that a sailor's life was a hard one (especially because of the terrible food on ships). He wanted me to do absolutely anything but follow in his footsteps...but here I was, toting my belongings up the gang plank to board the Irish Rover for the next few years.

The Rover is the biggest ship I had ever seen; must have stood several blasts, and I definitely counted 27 masts as I marched aboard. Not to mention the hold, packed tight with millions of barrels of porter, building materials, and livestock, on top of the cargo of bricks intended for New York's grand city hall. Standing on deck, I took one last look at my hometown of Cork and made my way to the crew's quarters

As I unpacked my sea bag into my bunk below, I was startled by a loud "YA-HO THERE!!" I whirled around to see my best mate, Tim Finnegan, who had joined the crew the year before. Tim was as giddy as a school girl trying to introduce me to everyone.

"There's ol' Mickey Coote. Former musician, keeps everyone entertained in the little downtime we got; he's a master of the flute. Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee, Hogan from Tyrone, and Malone from Westmeath. Never ask Johnny McGurk to do a blessed thing, he's scared stiff of work. Slugger O'Toole is drunk at all hours, and Bill Treacy from Dover will fight ya at the drop of a hat. Then over there ya got Mick MacCann from the banks of the Bann; he's the skipper," Tim said. "That about covers it, except for the cook, captain, and first mate. Ye'll meet them later I'm sure. Good to have ya aboard!"

We waved goodbye to our families and loved ones as the ship left the port. As the rose high over the quay, I had a sinking feeling that something terrible was looming over us all.

I was stationed on deck for the first leg of the journey. The first mate walked me through all the do's and don'ts of working on the ship: Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the masts, all the rules and regulations to remember so you survive the journey. We weren't far from the land when there was a shout from the crow's nest, "MERMAID AHOY! OFF THE STARBOARD BOW!" Naturally, everyone on deck rushed to the railing to see the creature so fair, but the captain looked quite worried to behold her. She was quite a sight, I will admit. Flowing ginger curls, a comb in one hand and a glass in the other, admiring her reflection as she styled her hair with starfish. She lazily flicked her tail through the waves at the bottom of the rock she sat upon, and gave the captain a flirty wave when she caught his eye. "Ahoy, Captain!" she called out, "Won't you join me for a pint?"

"Nay," cried the captain, "I'll have none of your fishy nonsense! We have a tight schedule to keep, Merrow! Save your tricks for the next ship."

"Oh, but Captain!" she called back in a sultry, "It'll only take a moment! I have news for your voyage that I'm sure you would like to hear!"

The captain took a nervous gulp. I had heard stories of sailors who met the merrow for a pint and never returned to their ship, while others returned having had their fortunes told for the rest of their voyage. The captain shouted for the helmsman to bring the ship around by the rock, then he disembarked to meet with the sea-fairy.

It seemed as though he had been gone for hours; the crew all waited in suspense for the captain's return. Finally, he trudged up the plank with a weary, ghostly look on his face. As we pulled away from the rock and set out to sea again, the mermaid waved her flirty wave. Her whispered "see you soon, boyos" seemed to echo over the waves for miles.

The captain turned to face us, as a crowd had gathered on deck. "This fishy mermaid has warned me of our doom," he said gravely. "We shall sink to the bottom of the sea".

Knowing there was no chance to escape, the crew broke into panicked shouts and exclamations of fear. "Will we survive?" "What of our cargo?" "When will we sink?" they all asked.

"I don't know," the captain replied. "She was vague, that cursed siren. All she foresaw was the demise of the ship and the crew."

The panic surged through the ship as we continued our daily duties. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, before we finally made port in New York Harbor; somehow still in one piece. "Put on your civvy clothes!!" Tim said, excitedly rooting through his bunk. "We'll find a pub ashore! This 'two pints of beer a day' sure ain't a bleedin' lot, it's whiskey that's my darlin'." He winked as he mentioned his love for the liquor...you'd swear he was born with it. The whiskey always led Tim astray, though. We spent the week in New York, and near every night Tim would stumble back to the ship as drunk as drunk could be, shouting slurred lyrics about Roddy McCorley at the top of his lungs. After carting him home so often, I was almost glad when we set sail again.

It was the same story for every journey; load the cargo, sail to the next port, unload, drink our wages away, then load up the ship again. We had nearly forgotten about the mermaid's somber warning...

We had sailed for seven years when there was a sudden outbreak of measles amongst the crew. After delivering supplies to the Spanish missions on the American West Coast, most of our men broke out in the rash. A week after our epidemic started, we sailed through such a dense fog that the helmsman could scarcely see two feet in front of him let alone steer the ship on course. Things were looking quite bleak when Slugger O'Toole, drunk as usual, remembered our encounter with the mermaid.

"She said we'd sink!" he cried out, "No wonder we're lost and dyin' of the fever, the end is nigh!"

The rest of the crew went into hysterics, just as they had at the initial warning. Our first mate, a well-spoken man, exclaimed, "I have a wife in Portland by the sea...tonight a widow she will be!" The cabin boy echoed his sentiments, brave young lad that he was, saying, "I have a sweetheart in Boston by the sea! Tonight, she'll be weepin' there for me!" The disgruntled cook, a perpetual bachelor and crazy old butcher, scoffed at the panicked lovers. "I care much more for my pots and pans," he said, "than I do for the bottom of the sea."

We tried to navigate our way back to the closest port, but with nearly all the crew down with the measles, it was a difficult task at best. The fog never let up, and men were dying in droves. Before long, even Tim and the captain had succumbed to the sickness, leaving only myself and the captain's old dog.

Finally, I could see the waters of Dingle Bay come into view. I was still a long way from home, but I had at least made it back to dear old Ireland. I couldn't believe I had made it this far, sailing a ship by myself into port; but my luck was soon to change

Being a crew of one, it was impossible to see everything in the bay at once and navigate around it all. I will never forget the loud, groaning crunch as the ship struck a rock, punching a hole deep into the hull. The Rover took on water nearly immediately; there was no saving her. The whole ship tumbled over, creating great waves throughout the bay. I swam laps around the wreckage, diving in and out of the waves, but the captain's poor dog was nowhere to be found. I struggled my way to the rock to save myself, drinking much more sea water than is healthy for any man. As I dragged myself out of the water, the bow of the Rover stood straight up in the bay, and the gallant ship spun nine times around as she sank to the bottom of the sea.

I sat for a while in shock and grief; never had I imagined that my life as a sailor would hold such misfortune and loss. Staring at the place where the ship had once been, I could have sworn I saw the green tail of the mermaid fluttering through the ripples.

'Twas the last of the Irish Rover.