The day was overcast. Fat-bellied clouds hung low and sullen, their reflections painting the ocean gray. There was no wind. The water ran as smooth as glass, undisturbed but for the ripples that formed around the hull of a lonely boat.

Lady Lovibond sailed the sea with a grace worthy of her title. The schooner glowed in the dim light, her white sails like the skirts of a maiden on her wedding day. As Lady journeyed the high waters in celebration of precisely such an occasion, the comparison was fit indeed.

The main deck was deserted but for a single soul. There was merriment to be had elsewhere, song and food and good company. John Rivers wanted no part of the ongoing celebration. He flinched at every cheer and burst of noise, like a cornered beast wary of a blow. At intervals he would pause his mad pacing to scan the ship with eyes that saw nothing.

It was during one such moment of introspection that Rivers became aware of the boat. A small vessel it was, unfit for travel so far from shore. Yet travel it did, and at great a speed; the sea split about its hull and turned white in its wake. The man who sat at its helm was stranger still. He was of moderate stature and foreign dress, and seemed involved in conversation with someone Rivers couldn't see. The boat sailed without the man's aid. Rivers concluded that he had gone mad, or was otherwise bearing witness to an otherworldly happening.

"Ahoy!"

The man didn't respond. Rivers hailed him again and again, taken by a sudden need to have the stranger answer. It took a threat of cannon fire to tear the man from his banter with the sea. The boat slowed to a stop a stone-throw away, burbling like some living creature. Its master glared at Rivers with eyes as blue as the ocean in midsummer.

"What?"

"From whence do you hail?" Rivers asked. He was much too curious to be bothered by the man's discourteous manner.

"None of your business," the stranger drawled. He spoke English, but with a queer accent Rivers couldn't place.

A peal of feminine laughter startled Rivers from his contemplation. The mystery of the man in the boat had distracted Rivers from his misery. It overwhelmed him anew, too heavy to bear.

"Where're you going?" the stranger called.

His voice dragged Rivers back from the depths of grief and anger. "None of your business," he spat, without any real ire. He knew not where he meant to go himself.

The man spoke softly, his words not meant for Rivers but whoever he imagined beside him. Rivers paid him no mind. There were matters of greater import he needed to address, and soon.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot, Captain."

Rivers whirled on the man. "That, I am not, and I will thank you not call me by another man's title!"

"What should I call you, then?" the stranger asked.

"John Rivers," Rivers answered stiffly.

"And the ship?"

"The Lady Lovibond." The schooner's name was inscribed along her hull, in plain sight. The man was obviously an illiterate. Rivers wondered if he were not a scoundrel on top of that, pirate scum sent out to scout the waters for good ships to pillage. The boat didn't look so otherworldly now that it was still. Perhaps it had all been an elaborate sham, some sort of trickery meant to ensnare an observer's mind.

"State your name and purpose," Rivers demanded, and checked his belt for the pistol he carried as subtly as he could in plain sight.

Waves rose in the sea, rocking the stranger's boat. "Calm down," the man grumbled. He raised his voice, overriding Rivers' indignant reply. "Ray Wingate. I'm not here for you, Mr. Rivers."

"And whom do you seek, sir, in the wilds of the sea?"

Wingate - if that was the man's true name - sighed from the bottom of his stomach, as if Rivers was the one intruding on his time. "You want the truth?"

"I would greatly appreciate it," Rivers ground out.

"I'm looking for a baby hydra. It hatched off the coast of Portugal; the Portuguese government wants to lay claim before it wanders into international waters."

Rivers had not considered that the man might be mad. The idea seemed necessary to entertain at present, and no easy retort came to mind. "You mean to slay this creature?" he asked at last.

"Hell, no. It's a protected species."

"Capture it, then," Rivers tried.

"Nah, extraction's managed by the Portuguese military. My job ends when I radio in the babe's location."

Rivers found himself at a loss of words. Wingate was obviously delusional. Nonetheless, Rivers could not in good conscience allow the man to drift to his death. "Are you a Christian, Mr. Wingate?"

Wingate grinned. "Somedays."

The lively wail of violin melted into a gentle waltz. A flute joined in, counting off the notes. One-two-three, one-two-three.

"You may come on board," Rivers said.

Wingate had the gall to laugh. "Yeah, no thanks."

"Sir, I must insist." One-two-three, a woman's heels beat, one-two-three. "You will never make it to shore in that vessel."

"No offense, but yours ain't what I'd call sea-worthy, either."

"I would have you know that this ship is among the finest of its kind," Rivers forced through clenched teeth. It was all he could do not to turn from the man and march below deck.

"Maybe it was," Wingate muttered, "Three hundred years ago."

The music soared. Rivers pressed his palms over his ears and strove to keep his balance. The planks under his feet seemed to shift. He looked down, and saw not polished wood but water so dark it bore likeness to the maw of some great beast, about to swallow him whole.

Rivers opened his mouth to scream. The mirage disappeared before he could utter a sound, the ship once again whole. The Captain's voice rang as clear as day. He bid his newlywed wife honor him with another dance, to the delight of the gathered crew. Rivers strained his ears for her answer, but the waltz started up again and filled his head with the sound of the waves - one-two-three, one-two-three.

"The Lady Lovibond. I remember now," Wingate said. "Captain Peel, his lovely wife-"

"Anette," Rivers spoke without thought.

"-and the poor, slighted John Rivers."

"He shouldn't have taken her aboard," Rivers said. "A woman on a ship brings only misfortune."

"Seems to me like you're the one who should've stayed on shore."

Rivers barely heard the quip. He couldn't hear much of anything at all, other than that infernal beat.

One-two-three.

"He did it to spite me, and so did she. It was not enough that she chose him - they had to humiliate me publicly. Do you hear them laughing?"

One-two-three.

"There's nothing to hear," Wingate said.

Rivers waved a hand, agitated. "I waste my time with you. Leave me in peace."

"And I suppose that thing you've got there is gonna help you find rest?"

One-two-three.

Rivers stared at the belaying pin in his hands. It was heavy and thick, good iron meant to secure lines. He knew not what he meant to do with it (he did).

One-two-three.

"You're alone already," Wingate said. "There's no one on that ship but you."

Rivers clutched the pin. "Be silent."

Wingate didn't listen. He spoke of madness, of mutiny, of wanton murder and a fatal wreckage - sins as heavy as anchors. The words wrapped like chains around Rivers' limbs. They pulled him down into the sea, to lay his bones in seaweed and sand.

"No," Rivers whispered, "no, no, I can't leave her, no."

He knew not when he drew the pistol. He found the trigger, felt the recoil and smelled the gunpowder. It was not a gunshot that he heard, but the roar of the sea breaking open.

One-two-

A creature rose from the waves. It had a man's face and a snake's body, its eyes like burning coals, its teeth long and jagged. Clawed hands reached for Rivers as if they meant to pull his heart right from his chest.

"By God!"

One -two-

The monster stood level with the deck. Its tail coiled in the sea, rising from the dark water in pale hills of muscle and pearl fins to loop around Wingate's boat. The man was no man after all, but a sorcerer with a demon for a servant. Rivers invoked the good Lord's name in prayer.

"That's my partner. No need for alarm," Wingate drawled. To the monster, he said,

One-

"I appreciate the support, fish, but I'm not afraid of a dead man's gun."

Fools fear little.

The creature spoke with the voice of some heathen god, each word like thunder. The sound echoed, overwhelming all else. Rivers tried to find the tune of the waltz again, Anette's voice, but couldn't, couldn't. There was nothing left.

There was no one left.

"Leave," Rivers begged.

"Meant to," Wingate said. "You're the one who called for help."

Rivers grappled for words. The world slipped away plank by plank, eaten by water and moss. He looked up, and saw the sails in tatters. He looked down, and watched his feet tangle in ropes that snaked over jagged wood. The Captain's cabin was gone, torn free from the ship. Horror rose in Rivers like bile. There was blood under his nails, and he knew not - he knew - whose it was.

"You see it now, don't you?" Wingate asked.

Rivers said nothing. Lady Lovibond groaned around him, as if in pain.

"Let go," Wingate said. "Let go, and be free."

Water filled Rivers' lungs. He clung to the ship though his hands were gone, his legs, his eyes. Wingate's voice was a balm. Rivers fought against it, against the pull of the waves.

Go, the monster said.

The ship crumbled. The sea rose, tall as the heavens, and swallowed Rivers whole. There was no fear in its depths, no anger, no hurt.

"Rest in peace," Wingate bid.

Rivers closed his eyes, and was no more.

***

A boat's motor rumbled to life. The sea thrummed softly, no longer held still by an unnatural storm.

"Show's over," Ray muttered.

He has gone? the Merman signed.

"Who the hell knows. Get back down here, I'm straining my neck talking to you."

The Merman glanced at Ray from the corner of one large, lidless eye. He remained perched in the air for a moment longer before dropping like a stone, raising a spray of sparkling water as he disappeared into the sea.

Ray wiped his face from stray droplets. "That wasn't funny the last time you did it, and it ain't funny now."

A pale tail flipped above the waves. Ray threw his own salute the Merman's way and steered the boat back on course. He kept an eye on his companion as they traveled. The water glinted silver where the Merman passed, a pale shadow beneath the waves. Lady Lovibond and her unhappy passenger had turned to foam before melting into the sea. The sight had reminded Ray of an old story about a mermaid and a foolish sacrifice, and left him unsettled.

"C'mon, we've got a baby hydra to find," he called over the growl of the motor.

A tail thumped against the side of the boat. Ray chuckled to himself. The last of his unease slipped from his shoulders, cast away on the waves of time.

~*~

This installment was written for TheCRYPTIC_ 's ON A BLACK MOON SEA. Follow the external link to the Anthology, for many, many wonderful sea-born tales!