To Catch a Mermaid (23 page)

“A nasty stench,” Captain Igor agreed. “That be what happens when you eat nothing but fish all day long.”

Being primarily fish-eaters, both Halvor and Mr. Jorgenson furrowed their brows. Halvor leaned forward and gave Mr. Jorgenson a sniff. “Yah, you don’t smell so good yourself.” Halvor stuck his nose down his own shirt and winced. “Yah, I don’t smell so good either. Maybe we should cook a lasagna now and then.”

“Lasagna would be good,” Mr. Jorgenson agreed, still plugging his nose.

Captain Igor cast a rope ladder, and Mr. Broom and Halvor carefully carried Mertyle off the ship and laid her on the beach. She remained in some kind of deep sleep from which no one could wake her. Mr. Broom wrung his hands and paced beside his sick daughter. “Now what do we do?” he asked.

Still on deck, Boom studied the paper from the print shop. He could find nothing on the map that indicated exactly where the merfolk might be. The baby eagerly flapped her tail at the top of the rope ladder. Of course! She probably knew where to find her own kind. She could lead them.

Boom carried the baby down the ladder, and as soon as his feet touched sand, the baby dove onto the beach and flopped to the tide line. “We’re here!” Boom announced to the barren landscape. “We’ve brought back your baby.”

He cocked his head, listening for a response. The only reply, aside from the frenzied gulls, was a particularly vocal sea lion that, Boom guessed, was telling the intruders to
get lost.
But Boom was not about to get lost. Mertyle’s only chance lived here somewhere. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’ve brought back your baby!” Still no reply.

The baby lay on her stomach at the sea’s edge. Boom gave her a gentle push. “Go on,” he urged. “Go find them.” But she didn’t go find them. Rather, she shoved her hand into the sand and pulled out a clam. So he made his voice sound mean like one does when instructing a bad dog. “Go. Go home.” The baby looked up at him with her big violet eyes. She swam a bit, then came right back. “Go home,” Boom ordered again. Her lower lip began to tremble. She dropped the clam and reached out her arms. He stomped his foot and pointed at her. “GO HOME!”

The merbaby growled and smacked her tail in the shallows. Then she swam just a few yards and darted behind a barnacle-encrusted rock, completely hidden from view except for the tip of her tail. “I know you’re still there,” Boom called out snippily. The tail disappeared. She was no help at all. He looked toward the horizon for signs of anyone or anything. He glanced at the beach where the exhausted crew hunched over Mertyle. He scanned the water around the ship for signs of movement. The dragon figurehead cast an eerie shadow in the water. He turned back to find the baby peering at him over the top of the rock. He thought for a moment that he might actually miss her, despite her ornery nature and the fact that she made his room smell like mud. But she had to go. He sighed with frustration and went to her. She reached out her arms again and he picked her up.

“We’d better search the island,” he told the others.

Captain Igor unfolded his telescope. “Good idea, lad. I’ll climb to the top of that hill and see what I can see.”

Mr. Broom decided to stay and guard Mertyle, so that a sleepy sea lion wouldn’t roll over onto her. Boom carried the baby down the beach while Halvor and Mr. Jorgenson went off in the other direction.

The sea lions barked as the boy and the merbaby passed by. At the end of the beach, Boom stepped up onto a rocky ledge and began to navigate around a series of tide pools, dotted with black urchins and red starfish. He stopped every so often to scan the horizon. “Where are they?” he asked the baby. “How do we find them?” She pulled a listermint from Boom’s coat pocket and popped it into her mouth, wrapper and all. With her fanglike teeth, she consumed the repulsive candy in two bites. Then she reached for another.

On an ordinary day, Boom would have wondered if the cellophane wrapper would melt from stomach acid or if it would reemerge, unscathed. But this was not an ordinary day and all his thoughts focused on finding the baby’s mother. “We’re here,” he called again. “We’ve brought back your baby. I didn’t mean to take your baby. It was a big mistake. I’ve brought it back.”

Halvor and Mr. Jorgenson appeared around the bend. The island was much smaller than Boom had realized. “Nothing,” Halvor said. “Just a lot of seagull droppings, for sure.”

“Did you see any conch shells?” Boom asked. The two men shook their heads. Soon after, Captain Igor made his way back down the hill to report that there was no sign from that vantage either.

Where could the merfolk be? Had all this been a terrible mistake? Boom kicked an empty clamshell. What in the name of Thor was he supposed to do now?

Back on the beach, the baby splashed at the tide line while the others gathered around Mertyle. “Night is coming,” Mr. Broom said, draping his coat over his daughter. Halvor went back to the boat and got some more bread and marmalade and the canned salmon, which the baby devoured. Boom didn’t feel hungry — his stomach had clenched in a knot.

In the middle of the meal, Mr. Jorgenson said what Boom had been thinking ever since they had set foot on the island. “Maybe they’re not here. Maybe we read the map wrong.”

Captain Igor shook his head. “There’s no doubt in me mind. That drawing be an exact replica of Whale Fin Island. No doubt.”

Mr. Broom unrolled the map and glanced over at the hill. “It’s quite exact. A very skilled artist rendered this.”

“This has to be the right place,” Boom said, mostly to make himself feel better. “Why else would the baby have a map drawn on its scales? It’s got to be there on purpose — like a dog’s identification tag.” That sounded right. That made perfect sense. Hope was renewed. “The drawing is the baby’s address, confirmed by the map on the conch shell. This has to be the right place. It just
has
to be.”

Everyone nodded and passed around a jug of water.

“If we build a fire, we might get the merfolk’s attention,” Boom suggested.

“That’s a great idea,” Mr. Broom said. “Let’s collect driftwood.”

Boom stood, relieved to be doing something. Anything was better than sitting around, watching helplessly as the curse suffocated Mertyle. If he had been home the morning the twister arrived, he wouldn’t have sat around helpless. He would have held on to his mother. He was strong; he could have saved her. Here was his opportunity to save Mertyle, yet it was going all wrong. Building a fire was something. Maybe the right thing.

The baby lay at the water’s edge as Boom began to search for driftwood. He picked up a soggy piece, and was wondering if it would burn, when a bird’s screech pierced the air. Boom turned to see a massive albatross snatch the baby by her tail. It lifted her from the beach and rose very slowly into the air, the weight almost too much of a burden. No way! Just like a twister, the albatross was trying to carry her into the sky. Boom screamed at the bird. “Stop! Drop that!” It continued to rise slowly on widespread wings. Halvor and Mr. Jorgenson started throwing rocks. Boom threw one as well, but the bird had flown out of reach.

Boom’s brain raced. What could he do? The baby opened her mouth in a silent scream, too terrified to make sound. A few droplets of green blood appeared at the tip of the bird’s beak, from which the baby hung. Halvor, Mr. Jorgenson, Mr. Broom, and Captain Igor ran circles beneath the bird, holding out their arms in case the baby fell. The bird began to pump its wings toward the hill. Boom grabbed another rock, but even before he threw it, he knew it would do no good. He screamed again in frustration, kicking at the sand helplessly. Kicking at everything in his path until he came to an empty marmalade jar.

It wasn’t over yet. He still had an advantage. He picked up the jar and tossed it gently into the air. As it began its descent, he flexed his kicking foot. He knew that it was going to hurt. Kicking heavy glass wasn’t like kicking a red rubber ball. He took a deep breath and kicked the bottom of the jar where the glass was thickest. It didn’t shatter. It flew straight through the air and hit the albatross in the belly. The bird screeched, dropping its treasure. Boom ran with outstretched arms as the baby tumbled down. He ran like the wind, leaping over Mertyle, snaking around Mr. Jorgenson, flying past Halvor, and jumping over a snoring sea lion. Just in the nick of time, he caught the falling merbaby. Green slime sprayed all over his face upon impact, and he fell over backward.

Everyone rushed to see if Boom was okay. “I’m fine,” he mumbled as they helped him sit up. The baby seemed fine as well, for she started growling at the men.

“That be a glorious kick,” Captain Igor said. “You could go professional, lad.”

The albatross circled, calling out what Boom suspected were bird obscenities. Then it flew back to the hill.

“I’m so proud of you, Boom.” Mr. Broom smiled but it was fleeting, for his face clouded again with worry. “We’d better make that fire.”

“Erik the Red was a magnificent kicker,” Halvor boasted as he gathered odd bits of driftwood. “Did I ever tell you the story of how Erik the Red invented Kick the Ball Against the Wall?” Boom shook his head, in no mood for one of Halvor’s long stories. Fortunately, Mr. Jorgenson found a large, dry log and asked Halvor to help move it.

Still catching his breath, Boom wiped slime off his face. The baby settled in his lap. “Just to let you know, in case you’ve lost count, this is the third time I’ve saved your life.” He gave her a long, hard look. “If you want to thank me, then find your mother. We need her to lift the curse.” The baby blinked and nodded. She understood. But would she do anything?
Could
she do anything?

On the horizon, a crescent moon rose, casting its glow over a calm sea. The baby rested her head on Boom’s shoulder and began to sing her sad song. Boom hated that song because it made him want to cry. He fought back his tears, fought back the fear that they had come all this way for nothing — that the baby’s mother could be looking in another corner of the world for her child.

Smoke drifted past as the fire crackled. Mertyle lay against her father’s chest, the magnifying glass at her side. Mr. Broom hung his head, and the others wiped tears from their cheeks as the baby’s song wound its way among them, fanning the flames with notes of sadness. As the merbaby continued her song, a green tear rolled down her cheek. Though they came from different lands, though their skin was fed by different kinds of blood and their tears were different colors, Boom realized that at that very moment they shared the same feeling — the fear of losing someone you love. It had feelings too.
She
had feelings too.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Boom lied, trying to comfort the little creature. He took off his coat and covered the baby’s shoulders. Even though she wasn’t cold, it just seemed like a nice thing to do. “They will come for you. I know they will.” The baby pulled a bit of seaweed from Boom’s hair and ate it. “I know you didn’t mean to make Mertyle sick.” The baby kept looking at him, like she was taking a picture of his face. Like she was trying to memorize it. She touched Boom’s nose with a little green finger.

Boom suddenly felt really sleepy. He lay back on the sand and looked up at Polaris, the North Star. His eyelids grew heavy as the blanket of night fell over the beach. “I don’t blame you for not granting my wishes,” he mumbled. “My wishes were stupid. I don’t need new shoes or a Kick the Ball Against the Wall arena. I just wish I had my family back.”

The sea lions nudged one another and began to pull their massive bodies toward the sea. They disappeared into the cold water for an evening swim, leaving the voyagers to sit on the beach — waiting and wishing for the unbelievable to happen.

Chapter Thirty-two:

The Merfolk’s Song

B
oom had never slept in such a way before. There were no images to haunt him, no worries to torment him. Never had sleep felt so deep and undisturbed, like being sucked into a void without light, without sound, without turmoil of any kind. Yet the void felt warm and buoyant, as though he were floating on clouds. When he breathed, his body inflated with the sensation of relief. And when he exhaled, he felt completely peaceful.

Then a single sound came to the void, cool and refreshing, like a long drink of water. And it enveloped him and protected him as he floated in oblivion.

Was this death?

“Boom, wake up.” It sounded like Mertyle’s voice. “Boom, everyone else is already awake.”

He rolled over, reaching for his pillow, but he grabbed a handful of sand instead. Sand? He stretched out his legs, but rather than hitting the end of his bed, they pressed against something that barked and nipped. It sounded like a sea lion. Boom opened his eyes. The sun had risen and he was lying on a beach with Mertyle leaning over him.

Mertyle!

Her long brown hair tickled his face. He could see her eyes and her skin. The fuzz was gone! And she was talking. Mertyle was back, and that could mean only one thing.

Boom scrambled to his feet. The sudden rush of blood made him dizzy and Mertyle grabbed his arm. He looked down at his feet, where a trail of green slime led from his coat to the water’s edge. Mertyle smiled. “They came in the night,” she explained.