Call of the Sirens

Simon knew nothing about sailing or life at sea, but he was tired of living in a small village doing nothing significant at all, day after day. No one and nothing was keeping him there. He wanted to see the world.

He dreamed of traveling to far-off places, seeing incredible sights, and meeting new people. He felt that burning desire—it called to him. It haunted his dreams and kept him up late into the night.

Simon figured the quickest and easiest way of doing that was by hiring himself out aboard a merchant ship. And so, he packed up his few belongings and set out for a nearby harbor town. The problem was, he found that most sailing vessels looking to hire new deckhands required at least five years of experience when applying for a position aboard their ship—not to mention an extensive background check in the hiring process, as well as multiple character references from previous employers.

Even if Simon could somehow bluff his way through the application, there was still an hour-long interview where the vessel’s captain would ask such questions as: “What does “starboard” mean? Or, “Can you show me how you tie a bowline?” Remember, Simon knew nothing about sailing. He had no clue what “starboard” meant (he thought it might mean “up” since that was where the stars were) and he had no idea how to tie a regular tie—much less a bowline. As you can imagine, such interviews did not go well for Simon.

But then, whether by fate or chance, he stumbled across a job posting on the harbor town’s message board that read:

Deckhand Wanted. Good Pay. No Experience Needed. See Captain Barnes at the wharf if interested in going on courageous adventures.

The “no experience needed” part was what caught Simon’s eye more than anything else. It didn’t concern him that the job posting had clearly gone untouched for quite some time. The page had been hidden underneath other postings. Simon had almost missed it. He was glad he hadn’t because, well, he was interested in going on courageous adventures. This seemed to be exactly what he was looking for. He didn’t think it was at all suspicious or concerning that the job posting didn’t require any experience from potential candidates—even though everyone else seemed to want substantial training beforehand.

Simon figured Captain Barnes was the sort of employer who would offer hands-on experience as they went along their voyage. He probably wanted to train his employees the way he did things—instead of hearing them say annoying things like, “Well, aboard my last ship, that’s not how we cleaned the decks,” or, “That’s not how we were taught to do it in sailor’s school.” Much less bothersome that way.

Simon took the flier off the town’s message board and hurried down the wharf to find this “Captain Barnes.” He was hopeful that this would finally be his chance to venture out into the wide world. It took some clueless searching and asking around before several dockworkers finally took pity on him and pointed him in the right direction. He didn’t notice the wary looks that crossed over the dockworkers’ faces at the mention of “Captain Barnes.”

Simon finally found the sea captain on one of the docks. In his mind, if ever there was a man who deserved to have his picture next to the word “swashbuckler” in the dictionary, it was Captain Barnes.

Captain Barnes slouched on a wooden crate, idly repairing an old, tattered fishing net to pass the day away. His gray hair was woven in braids down his back, and he sported a large, scraggly beard with colorful beads woven in. He wore a broad-brimmed hat low over his brow, shading his eyes from the bright, overhead sun. The rest of his skin was dark and suntanned. He wore no shirt—tattoos covered his chest, back, and arms. His pants were tattered, and he was barefoot—and I mean that in every sense of the word because he only had one foot. His other leg ended in a wooden, ornately carved peg. A notched, slightly rusted cutlass was tucked into his belt.

The sight of him alone should have given Simon enough of a warning to turn right around, keep walking away from the wharf, and perhaps never entertain the notion of leaving his small village ever again, but it didn’t. His desire to see the rest of the wide world bull-rushed his common sense and left it flat on its back on the dock.

“Excuse me,” Simon asked rather timidly, “are you Captain Barnes, perchance?”

The old man turned toward him, frowning. “Eh? Who’s there?” His eyes focused on Simon. “Ah, aye, Captain Barnes—that’s me. What do you want? I didn’t see you there.”

Simon held up the flier for him to see.

The old man snatched the faded paper from his grip, quick as a snapping turtle. “What’s this?” he squinted at it for a moment and then cackled in near-disbelief. “Ah, you found my flyer! Finally—it’s been years!”

Again, that should have served as a warning for Simon, but his common sense was still out cold. His expression fell. “Does that mean you’re no longer taking on deckhands?”

The old sea captain jumped to his feet. “On the contrary, lad—you’re hired!” he cried and reached out to shake Simon’s hand before he could even speak.

“Er—I don’t have any experience,” Simon stammered as the captain pumped his hand up and down in an iron, weathered grip.

“No trouble—no trouble at all,” Captain Barnes said. “You’re hired.”

They hadn’t even discussed his wages or benefits. Or what he’d been hired to do for that matter.

The captain’s jovial expression darkened, and he pulled Simon in close. His breath smelled like he gargled with sea brine. “There’s only one thing you need to know before sailing with me, lad. Beware the siren’s call. We’ll be sailing to siren-infested waters—if you’re not careful, those she-devils will get you.”

Simon blinked. He was sure he had misheard the old man. “Sirens?”

Captain Barnes nodded darkly. “Aye. Sirens.” He spat the word like he was clearing phlegm from his throat.

“I’m sorry—to siren-infested waters? Not through?” Simon frowned; his stomach fluttered nervously.

The old sea captain grinned; a manic light in his haunted eyes. “Aye, that’s right. To siren-infested waters. I’ve been looking for someone brave enough to join me on the voyage for years. No one’s taken me up on it until you.”

He began pulling Simon toward a small dinghy tied at the end of the dock, talking as they went. “Them sirens go and sing their songs and make men jump from ships to swim to their deaths—either from drowning or falling prey to those she-devils’ teeth.”

Simon paled and began to stammer out an excuse—he had only just remembered, he got quite seasick and probably shouldn’t be going on any voyages, to siren-infested waters or otherwise—but the old sea captain wouldn’t hear of it.

“Don’t worry lad—those she-devils are only a danger if you hear them. As long as you plug your ears with wax, you’ll be just fine.” He clapped Simon on the back, and the poor, wanting-to-be-adventurous fellow stumbled aboard the small sailing vessel.

Before Simon knew what was happening, the old sea captain untied the dinghy, hopped aboard as well, unfurled the sail, and off they sailed. Presumably toward siren-infested waters. Why on earth they’d do such a thing, Simon hadn’t the faintest of ideas, but that was what was happening.

He began to wonder—even with his common sense still left behind, unconscious on the dock—if his desire to go out and see the world was a bad idea. At least, perhaps it was a bad idea to see the world with Captain Barnes. Dimly, he wondered if he’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Regardless, that was how Simon found himself sailing aboard Captain Barnes’ vessel, “The Salty Barnacle” (which Simon assumed was a sailor’s joke that simply went over his head) as her one and only crew member.

They were sailing to siren-infested waters where they’d undoubtedly come to a terrible end. It wouldn’t be a courageous adventure—it’d be a pointless death. Simon glanced back at the dock, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. He wasn’t a strong swimmer—which makes you wonder why he thought being a sailor of all vocations was a good idea—but decided he’d have to risk it.

As he prepared to dive over the side of the dinghy and swim as fast as he could back to the dock, Simon heard a dull scraping sound as Captain Barnes drew his cutlass. The old man’s expression was pleasant, but his eyes were dark. His voice was quiet and grim.

“You’ve agreed to sign on to this voyage. There’ll be no mutiny aboard my ship. Is that clear, sailor?”

Simon paled and nodded so fast that his head hurt. All thoughts of abandoning the ship left his mind. That sword looked sharp—not to mention rusty. “Aye, aye, Captain!” he shouted. He didn’t know if that was the proper thing to say, but it seemed to satisfy the old sea captain.

He nodded and sheathed his sword. “Alright, back to your station then,” he grumbled, and their strange voyage continued underway.

Simon wasn’t even sure where his station was—much less what he was supposed to be doing at said station. “Um, Captain Barnes?” he asked as he sat there.

The old sea captain adjusted the sails, taking them out farther into the vast, blue ocean. “Eh?” he grunted, looking at his compass.

Simon shifted in his seat. “Why are we sailing toward siren-infested waters? Don’t sailors normally wish to avoid such creatures—especially if they try to kill us?” Simon thought those were fair and reasonable questions.

Captain Barnes just cackled. “Well, of course, they want to kill us—but we’re not going to let them.” He turned and grinned at Simon with an alarmingly crazed look in his eyes. “See, we’re going to get them first!”

It was then that Simon realized he was in deep, deep trouble sailing with this man. It all seemed like it was a bad dream. Really, really bad. Like the kind where you’d only wake up after something horrible happened to you, like falling to the ground or being eaten by monsters. Simon had stopped pinching himself, but he was pretty sure this was no dream.

The two sailed for several days and several nights upon the surface of the deep. Some days the sea was calm; other days it raged like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Through all of it, Simon and Captain Barnes sailed on.

Simon wasn’t even sure why Captain Barnes had needed another crew member aboard the small dinghy for his foolhardy voyage. Not only did Simon not know what he was supposed to be doing, but whenever he tried to lend a helping hand, the old sea captain would bark, “You’re doing it wrong!” and then do it himself without showing Simon the proper technique, grumbling, “Useless landlubber,” as he did so. Why did Captain Barnes even want him aboard if he was just going to complain about him?

Simon felt in the way. He felt useless. He didn’t appreciate being called names. He appreciated even less being put down and not doing a good job. He resolved to himself right then and there that he would prove this crusty old man wrong. He may have been forced aboard “The Salty Barnacle,” but there was no use moping around about it. Might as well make himself useful and learn something while he was at it.

As they continued sailing, something strange began to take place. Simon was learning. It turned out that a “sink or swim” environment was a good one for him to learn in—if you’ll excuse the analogy. It was right there. He got stronger; his skin burned (that was painful) and then darkened. If not for the fact that Simon believed they were sailing toward their deaths, Simon might have even begun to enjoy himself.

He still didn’t entirely know what he was doing, and Captain Barnes would still bark out, “You’re doing it wrong!” but not as much as before. The “useless landlubber” comments became almost nonexistent. Almost begrudgingly, Captain Barnes would watch him work and then grunt once or twice in approval. Simon came to view that as high praise from the old sea captain.

Strangely, he found that he wanted to hear those grunts more and more. In a short time, he no longer felt as in the way. He no longer felt as useless. And that was a good thing because according to Captain Barnes, they were drawing near the end of their voyage. They were approaching the siren-infested waters.

Captain Barnes would look at his compass and charts, squint at the position of the sun—or the stars at night—and then poke at the astrolabe. As he did, he’d grumble to himself, “Not long now, not long at all. We’re getting close.”

Simon still didn’t know why they were really sailing toward the siren-infested waters. He figured that’d be an important thing to find out before they got there. He and Captain Barnes didn’t talk much during their strange voyage. As you can imagine, the old sea captain wasn’t the most conversational of folk, and Simon was terrified to get on his bad side. If he weren’t already on it.

Trying to get the man to talk about his past was like trying to pry pearls from oysters. He’d usually grunt and then awkward silence would fall over the boat. Getting a straight answer out of him was even harder. He claimed to have lost his leg to a terrible sea serpent’s maw. He claimed he once saw the place where the sun sets below the distant horizon. Simon didn’t know what to believe about the man. He didn’t know what was fact and what was fiction.

One night, as “The Salty Barnacle” drifted through the waters beneath a patchwork blanket of clouds and stars, Simon tried to strike up a conversation once more. He’d seen some of the old man’s tattoos on his forearm earlier that day—he noticed it was a list of several names. Tattoos seemed like a pretty safe conversation starter. It wasn’t.

When he asked Captain Barnes about it, the old man’s expression changed. He grew more pensive, and Simon was horrified to see under the cold, pale moonlight that a tear glistened in the corner of the old sea captain’s eye. Either that or it was the ocean spray. That was probably it.

“They’re my old mates,” Captain Barnes mumbled, staring down at the dark list of names tattooed on his forearm. “Bill, Joe, Tim, and Bart—they’re there so I won’t forget them. Those she-devils took them from me.”

There was a tinge of anger in his voice, and his eyes burned. Then that angry light faded, and his voice shook. “We didn’t mean to sail that way—it was my mistake. It was my fault. I read the charts wrong. I should have known. We saw the mists, and then their singing started.”

Captain Barnes sighed and shook his head. “My hearing isn’t so good, so I was able to ignore the sirens’ call. My crew on the other hand… I couldn’t do anything to stop them. I begged them to stay—pleaded with them even. They couldn’t hear me. All they heard were those she-devils. They jumped overboard and left me all alone.”

Simon shivered. He recalled his captain’s word of warning before they set sail. He no longer had to ask why they were sailing toward siren-infested waters. Suddenly, it all made sense.

“So we’re sailing there for revenge, then?” Simon asked softly.

The old sea captain nodded. “Aye, we’re sailing there for revenge.”

“Why did you need someone else to sail with you?” Simon figured that didn’t hurt to ask at this point.

Captain Barnes shrugged. “Well, I can’t deal with all those she-devils by myself, now, can I? I needed help—and there you were, answering my flier.”

“You know killing the sirens won’t bring your crew back, don’t you? Revenge doesn’t solve anything.”

For a moment, Simon thought he should have just kept his mouth shut. It looked like he was about to suffer the old sea captain’s wrath. Captain Barnes’ eyes flashed, but as quickly as it came, his ire faded. He looked old and sad and tired.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “I know that. But I don’t have anyone left—all my crew is gone. What else do I have to lose at this point?” The old man was silent for a moment. Then, he added, “I know this isn’t the voyage you were probably expecting, lad.”

If Simon didn’t know any better, it sounded like Captain Barnes was apologizing to him. But that’d be absurd. As he looked at the old sea captain, he began to understand him a little better. It was strange and unexpected, but he found that his heart was going out to him. He felt bravery and courage stir inside him.

“Maybe it isn’t, Captain, but I signed on for an adventure, didn’t I? If fighting sirens and avenging your old crew isn’t an adventure, I don’t know what is. I’m with you, Captain—no matter what.”

The old sea captain clapped him roughly on the back. “Good lad,” he said. “Good lad. Now get some sleep—if my calculations are correct, we’ll be there in the morning.”

If someone had told Simon several days beforehand that he’d be sailing under a crusty, old sea captain on a revenge mission against sirens of the sea, he wouldn’t have believed them. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted to undertake this voyage. Far from it. But here he was.

The strange thing was, he found that he wanted to help Captain Barnes. Was he terrified of possibly meeting a grisly end at the teeth of a terrible she-devil of the sea? Absolutely. Would that fear keep him from sleeping a wink? Probably.

Simon had heard the raw pain and anguish in the old sea captain’s voice. The man held himself responsible for the deaths of his friends. He thought it was his fault. Maybe it was. Guilt like that could eat a man alive. Much more slowly than a she-devil could, but still.

The old man couldn’t see that revenge wouldn’t ease his pain. It wouldn’t take his guilt away. Simon didn’t know how he could help the old sea captain see that. If he couldn’t do that, at least he could be there for him tomorrow. Why? To his surprise, Simon found that he actually liked the old sea captain. He reminded Simon of his own grandfather—if his grandfather had been a grumpy old man bent on revenge against she-devils, that was. He thought that perhaps, in his own, gruffly demeaning sort of way, Captain Barnes liked Simon too.

The next morning, as the sun rose over the distant horizon, Captain Barnes shook Simon awake. His face was grim, and he gripped the hilt of his cutlass with white knuckles. “Get up, lad,” he said quietly. “We’re nearing the edge of the she-devils’ waters. Look.”

Simon blinked groggily and sat up from where he’d fallen asleep on the bottom of the dinghy. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn as he looked at their surroundings.

Ahead of them was a strange and mysterious wall of thick, swirling mists. It started at the surface of the deep and rose to the heavens. Simon couldn’t see its end—from side-to-side, it stretched out as far as his eyes could see—and he could see pretty far.

A chill fell over him, and he shivered.

The ocean was eerily calm and quiet. No sound came from the waves lapping against “The Salty Barnacle’s” hull. No gulls cried in the morning sky.

Simon felt the need to whisper. “What’s the plan, Captain?”

“The sirens like to lure their prey in with their singing,” the old sea captain said hoarsely. “Once we get closer to the mists, they’ll start.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two wax earplugs. He also pulled a knife from his belt. He handed them all to Simon. “Here, lad. Put these in. Remember—they can’t tempt you if you can’t hear them.”

“What about you?” Simon took the earplugs and the knife.

Captain Barnes tapped his ears. “Can’t hear well, remember? My own fault, really. Spent too much time as a lad listening to loud tavern music.” He grinned. “Besides, I haven’t cleaned out my ears for a while—I’ll be just fine.”

Simon couldn’t argue with that logic, as unhygienic as it was. He was about to stuff the wax plugs in his ears when the old sea captain grabbed his arm.

“Er—wait, lad.” He looked uncomfortable. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing, so—thanks. Whatever happens today, it’s been a pleasure sailing with you. You’re a good sailor—for a landlubber.”

He held out his hand awkwardly, and Simon shook it with a faint grin. “Likewise, Captain. Besides, I had a good teacher.”

Captain Barnes cleared his throat self-consciously and nodded once. With that, the moment passed. Simon put in the earplugs. They lowered the sail and rowed toward the edge of the mists. Then, the mists enveloped them.

Simon’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t hear anything—the wax plugs were working. Yet, as they rowed further into the mists, he thought he almost heard the faintest of haunting melodies drifting across the face of the ocean deep. He turned and glanced over—Captain Barnes had stopped rowing.

His whole body had stiffened. At first, Simon thought it was from rage, but he noticed that a peculiar expression had passed over the old sea captain’s face. It was oddly serene. His eyes were distant and vacant. Slowly, he stood as if in a daze. His cutlass fell from his grip and clattered against the bottom of the boat.

Panic welled up in Simon. Whether the old man’s hearing wasn’t as bad as he’d thought or if his “natural” wax plugs were faulty, Simon didn’t know. All he knew was that the old sea captain had heard the sirens’ call. Simon reached out to grab him before Captain Barnes jumped overboard into the ocean.

The old man struggled against him, but Simon held on. “Snap out of it, Captain!” he shouted at him, but the old sea captain ignored him. His eyes were fixed on something in the distant waters.

With growing horror, as he squinted further into the mists, Simon realized he could make out terrible, lurching figures floating in the water—hideous forms with gnashing teeth, long spindly limbs, jagged, spiked spines, dark fins, and beautiful voices. Simon’s blood ran cold. He knew. Those were sirens. Not one or two. Five. Six. Ten. Fifteen of them. Simon stopped counting, though he saw more.

He and Captain Barnes had no chance of killing one of those monstrous creatures—much less all of them. Even if the old sea captain were in his right mind. They’d be torn limb from limb, and that’d be the end of their revenge mission. No more adventures. No more anything.

He didn’t know what to do, though. Captain Barnes still struggled, pulling against his grasp. If he let him go, undoubtedly the old sea captain would jump overboard and swim to his death, leaving Simon aboard “The Salty Barnacle” all alone. Just as Captain Barnes had been abandoned by his own crew, all those long years ago. Simon didn’t want that. He didn’t want the old man to die. He made his decision.

With all the strength he could muster, Simon pulled back and punched the old sea captain square across the jaw. Now, Simon had never punched anyone before in his life—he quickly discovered why he didn’t want to do so again. It hurt. A lot. His hand throbbed and he yelped in pain. It wasn’t a clean punch, but it did the trick.

Captain Barnes’ eyes rolled backward, and he crumbled like a sack of potatoes to the bottom of the dinghy.

Simon shook his aching hand and glanced back at the sirens, moving about in the mists. They were drawing closer. They looked hungry. Simon didn’t need to wait around to see what would happen. He sat down and heaved on the oars for all he was worth. He didn’t stop pulling back on the oars until “The Salty Barnacle” burst through the strange mists and back into the ocean blue.

The sirens looked angry—violent as they thrashed in the waters. But they could not cross beyond the mists. Somehow, they were contained therein. And Simon understood. That was why they had to lure their prey in with their singing. They could not leave the mists.

Simon stared at them for a moment, breathing heavily, and then looked down at the unconscious old man at the bottom of the dinghy. When he awoke, the old sea captain would undoubtedly be angry with him. But Simon could deal with that when it happened. His captain was safe from the sirens’ call.

Simon looked back up at the sirens, treading water near the edge of the mists, and felt anger well up inside him. These creatures had bewitched so many sailors to their deaths, and now they had tried to take his captain from him as well. He stood and shouted at them, “You can’t have him—he’s my friend, and you’re not taking him!”

With that Simon sat back down on the bench and started rowing away from the ominous mists, leaving the still-screaming sirens behind. He didn’t look back. After a while, he turned the dinghy to starboard and raised the sail. He didn’t know where they were headed, he just wanted to put as much distance between them and the sirens as possible.

When Captain Barnes awoke, hours later, he awoke with a roar. He looked about wildly for “Those she-devils!” as he shouted. He stopped mid-roar when he realized they were no longer in the mists—that he and Simon were all alone. He blinked confusedly. Rubbing the sore spot on his jaw tenderly, he winced and then glanced over at Simon. He didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at him.

Simon thought he was going to explode with anger. He spoke up first, staring back at the old sea captain defiantly.

“Before you accuse me of mutiny, there’s something I need to say. You should know that I won’t help you throw your life away, Captain. Your friends are gone—I know that hurts. But dying won’t bring them back. That’s what would have happened if you stayed in those mists. The sirens would have killed us both. You’re not alone, you know. I’m still here with you. You’re my friend. I haven’t had one of those before, and I’d rather not lose the only one I’ve got. Anyway. That’s all I have to say. If you want to go back into those mists, you’ll have to go without me—and if that’s mutiny, then I guess that’s mutiny.”

For a long time, they just stared at each other. Captain Barnes saw the truth in Simon’s eyes. His own eyes widened slightly. His shoulders drooped, and he sighed. He nodded, deflated. After a while longer, he said quietly, so quietly Simon almost didn’t hear him, “Thank you.”

The old sea captain and his first mate sailed away from those strange and treacherous waters. They put the mists behind them, and they never looked back. Together, they sailed on to other, better adventures. The sirens’ call had finally fallen on deaf ears.

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