As Maera was now standing, dripping wet on the deck, everyone waited for some introduction. Doc was uncertain how he should intervene with this most unexpected event. Luckily, however, he did not have to, as Maera suddenly went into action weaving what Doc knew would either be an elaborate lie about her identity or simply come clean with the anxious crew—all nervously still waiting for the lovey girl to speak.

Stepping into to character, she looked over affectionately at Doc and smiled a grin of relief.

"Uncle . . . I didn't find you at your home, so I swam around the point hoping to see you on the cliff."

Doc froze, waiting for what she would say next.

"I looked for you from offshore. Then I heard your voice when I neared this ship. I hope you forgive me for intruding."

The group, still baffled by the girl's unexpected visit, looked with greater anticipation at Doc now, standing nearer to her. They all waited for his verifying response to put the bizarre situation into some plausible framework.

"Yes, Maera," he quickly answered, having no choice but to play along with the false narrative she was improvising. "You see, these wonderful people have invited me for dinner here this evening. But I'm just glad you're OK, sweetheart. It's late . . .you shouldn't be swimming this hour. And why so far from the castle, young lady?"

"You're right, uncle. It was poor judgement. But I do hope you introduce me to your new friends."

It had just become immediately evident to Maera, that the group, save for Doc, were all without clothing. Doc could see she was observably affected by the revelation but managed to stay with the ruse. One of the young women on deck produced a towel and Maera began to obligingly dry her face and hair, nodding self-consciously in appreciation.

Seth quickly spoke up for the good of all. "Well, for introductions . . . I believe I should do that . . . instead of your uncle, Love."

He had, once again, taken over the situation, hoping to smooth over the temporary fright and confusion which Maera's sudden appearance had caused them all.

"Well, I'm the skipper of this ship you be on, Lassy . . . and mi name 's Seth. This 'ere is mi good friend John. The ladies you see ere . . . all lovely like yourself, are Katie, Evie, and Sita."

She didn't stare at any of them, just managed a cordial smile.

"My name is Maera," she said softly, but craftily as a Nymph could be, she gave no clue of what Doc knew to be her true origins.

John then weighed in, feeling more at ease.

"You gave us all a bloody start, missy." He smiled nervously, as if for everyone's sake. "But now that you're 'ere . . . on deck with us, like your Uncle Doc . . . we welcome you aboard the Dove. A fine schooner she be. Out of Weymouth Harbour, England."

Maera nodded and remained quiet. It had been her history to play with the crews of ships for thousands of years, to lead them into or away from storms, depending on her impish moods. And these tempests could be both of weather or the human heart. Yet, this was a different scenario, as Maera became preoccupied with each of the naked voyagers, trying herself to make some sense of their nudity.

Kate stepped up closer. "That's a right fine dress you're wearing, Maera,"

She said this possibly begging the question of why the girl would be swimming in it. Eva approached her as well and reached out to touch the apricot-hued fabric. She also seemed deeply perplexed by the girl's incongruous attire to be worn in the sea."

"It's all very strange, isn't it?" Maera finally uttered, laughing a little musically to herself. "How you are all without clothes on the ship. Out of the sea. And I choose to wear mine, while under the waves?"

The comment did not make matters any clearer to the perplexed travelers. Yet being of liberal hearts and minds—youthful themselves, and prone to foolishness, the group began to forgive Maera, and actually take in interest in her mysterious nature.

This was all except Sita, who remained cautious of the uninvited guest. For it was precisely the girl's comment that presented a sticking point to her initial perceptions of the girl and her inexplicable presence from the sea.

Kate and Eva were joined then by Sita, who had thus far remained aloof—holding back to observe each of Maera's moves on deck. Having quickly placed all the cooked meat and vegetables on a large platter and covered them for serving later, she now came close to the stranger herself. She was intuitively scanning for anything that might be further amiss about the girl. Accepting for the moment that there wasn't, she took Maera's hand in hers. It was as if the younger, more soulful Sita was trying to get more knowledge, more feelings about the extraordinary visitor through her touch.

"Are 'ya cold now, girlie?" Sita asked? "You want to get out of dat soaked dress?"

Maera looked over at Doc, as if for approval. He was suddenly thoughtless about what should follow—how Maera might answer.

"Would it please you all then . . . if I joined you?" she asked. "Without my dress?"

Doc was exceedingly nervous about the developing situation. He had never approved of being so disingenuous with people, yet in Maera's case, as he knew, nymphs had amassed entire tomes of myths out of their lies and impish habits deceiving humans.

"Just seems better for yer 'elth, mi Love," Sita added. "To be out of da wet dress and into the warm wind."

Both Kate and Eva nodded to her, seeming to challenge the girl's resolve and test her libertine character.

"Uncle Doc, with your permission. I would like to join our hosts in their custom here. May I take off the dress?"

"All eyes were on Doc now, as his dilemma seemed to him not unlike a Greek tragedy, with no foreseeable escape from the inevitable fate Maera had spun.

Doc took a deep breath and fell into character.

"Listen, Maera. We're in the territory of our hosts now. If you want to join them in this, I do not object. You are old enough to make those decisions. No longer a child. It will just remain our secret once this evening passes."

Maera smiled furtively and seemed pleased with Doc's histrionics. She gracefully began to remove the still soaked dress, letting it fall silently to the deck. Apart from Doc's, all eyes were on the nymph's lithe body as she stepped away from the limp attire and passed instead into the warm evening air."

"Well, this calls for more wine, mates!" was Seth's celebratory comment.

"And a feast as planned!" added John.

"The two women, Kate and Eve, put their arms around the naked Maera, and all retired back to the stern to be seated at the table for dinner. Only Sita, still suspicious of the extra visitor, did not show any enthusiasm for the now naked and unified company.

That night, after the sumptuous food Sita had prepared, followed by fresh summer fruit and Docs bottle of California wine, none of which Maera consumed, stories were told until just before the dawn. Doc entertained his naked hosts with adventures of Jason and the Argonauts, much to the chagrin of the two men who saw themselves as modern day nautical explorers journeying off to faraway lands.

But for the women, it was the story by Maera, which captivated them greatly. It told of a rare love--once found but then lost. It was about a young sailor saved by a sea nymph after a naval battle. How he had vowed to find her later and make her his for life. The story was tragic, as so often love turns out to be, as the lover was dashed on the rocks by a wicked Siren who found it in her cold heart only the joy of playing with men's lives and leading them to their doom.

However, the night was most memorable when as the five hosts prepared to ferry Doc and his niece back to the shore, Maera surprised them once more. Still naked and now glowing in the early morning light, she jumped off the side of the ship and swam out of sight. Doc assured them all she would be fine, as it was her habit and nature to spend more time in the waves than on land or on ships.

The young adventurers left the island of Kalamos that afternoon, wondering if it had all been just a dream. A pink dress, lying on the foredeck, told them without a doubt it had been a true adventure.

* * *