Wickedness Never Goes Unpunished

Pirates and the corpses of the dead Sirens they took a detour to avoid.

The water lulled the boat to sleep; wooden boards creaked beneath every step along the deck. I raised my lantern, mist shrouding my view of the crow's nest where Cyrus stood watch, though how he was able to see anything in this fog was a mystery to me. Nevertheless, the entire crew felt safer with him up in the nest. I passed the other poor souls given patrol duty by my first mate in this miserable weather. He himself was nowhere to be found, probably sound asleep in his cabin with a bottle of rum. I would have retired as well, hours ago, had the crew not had a near miss with Sirens on our way back home to Sicily. As it was, we had had to take a detour, costing us precious time, and now we were set back days.

I nodded to the child at the side of Old Crawley, James, at eight years old, he was the youngest of the many cabin boys on our ship. We had found that the younger they were when they started out, the more loyal they would become as they matured. It was also easier to bribe them, for information about the crew and the like. My first mate, Anderson, paired all the boys with an older mentor, to keep an eye on them and prevent mischief. Unfortunately, that meant that when their elder had to do watch duty on what could probably have been considered the worst night of the year, that meant the boys were roused from their beds and bravely stood watch. I turned my attention to Old Crawley.

“How goes the watch?” I demand nicely, for we still had a bond, Old Crawley and I.

“It don’t go terr’bly, cap’n, though some men are sayin’ that the’ve been seein’ some strange sights, when the mist parts ‘round the boat,” Crawley replied in his steadfast way that comes about only from breathing the sea and feeling the ship rock beneath your feet. Despite Crawley not being the superstitious type, I could detect a note of concern in his voice, apprehension. He had been on the ship for as long as I had, even longer. He and my da had been close, and when my da had died, Crawley steered me away from as much trouble as was possible on a pirate ship. He had been my first choice for First Mate, but he turned it down, so now I listened as intently as possible to his counsel.

“I’ll look it over. Thank you, Crawley,” I answered.

I made my way quietly down the line, sword clinking against my pistols. I nod to one man and press the tip of my blade against the throat of another who dozed off. I shall not have any laziness on this ship; laziness was synonymous with rich, fat merchants who slept comfortable on the coldest nights. As I got to the bow of the ship, a cry shattered the silence I now recognized as tense. The scream did not have any words attached to it; t’was the sound of a man’s fear. I quickened my step, sword drawn, and one hand holding the lantern. We may have been out of Siren territory, but it wasn’t uncommon for them to follow their prey awhile.



A man stumbled out of the murk, eyes widened, stuttering a billion incoherent sentences. I recognized only one word.

“Dead!” He gasped and tried to run past me. Well, that certainly wouldn’t do. I grabbed the neck of his jacket and pulled him back.

“I didn’t realize I taught my men to run from battle, did I? Certainly, they weren’t taught to become squeamish, cowardly, bastards, were they?” I roared in his face. I recognized him now. Cyrus. “And what was it you were doing away from the crow’s nest anyhow? Am I not the Captain of this ship, Cyrus, you worm? Were you not told to stay up in the nest?”

“I-I-I thought there was s-something in the water. I c-came to take a closer l-look,” Cyrus fumbled his words. The lantern in my hand cast a yellow sheen across his face.

“And what did you find that you couldn’t see using a spyglass, you termite?” I demand. “Anything useful?”

“D-dead b-b-bodies, captain,” he blubbered. “All around the ship. When the mist clears, y-you can see them,” I rolled my eyes. What he had saw would probably have been passed off as a trick of the moonlight in any other instance, but the fog shrouding the ship had an ominous feel to it, so I walked slowly towards the side of the ship, patiently waiting for the heavy mist to part.

Foosteps thudded solemnly behind me. My First Mate, Anderson, finally showed his scrawny face, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“The men are sayin’ odd stuffs been ‘appaning. Didja find anyfing, cap’n?” He says in his thick cockney accent. I sigh; all these pirates are dimwits. If I had found something I would have said, maybe alerted the crew, depending on what it was.

“No, Anderson. I have not. The fog shrouding our ship is too thick,” I said slowly and plainly. Then I turned back to look over the railing of the ship. For a second, the mist parted, and the moon shines brightly down onto the dark expanse of water, teeming with bodies.

Pale and bloated, bobbing in the waves, hair spread like fans from their heads; their ethereal faces were marred by the marks of battle, bruises and cuts that seeped blood. Hundreds of them in every direction, faces turned towards the sky. The ugly corpses of Sirens created a floating mat of bodies that stretched out as far as the horizon. Then the clouds swooped back in, and we were once more plunged into the dense murk of the fog. I won’t deny that the scene gave me shivers and the inability to see it scared me even worse. I turned to the side, still reluctant to turn my back to the sea, and I was startled by Anderson still standing next to me. No remnants of sleep clouded his eyes now; they were alert, and his jaw was tensed. Those moments are why I made him my first mate. He seemed like a half-wit beggar until you saw him in battle, in danger. He relished those moments of clarity, knowing that a goal was in sight and doing whatever he needed to do to get there. I loved those moments too, the ability to make decisions based simply on logic and chaos. Now was one of those moments, a time when any other sailor would shrink back and hide, breathing shallow and quick. I, however, was no fresh recruit barely getting ahold of my sea legs. No, I was Captain of my ship, hardened pirate and reliable plunderer.

“Wha’ do we ‘ell the crew, cap’n?” Anderson asked. “An’ before you ‘ell me ‘ow maybe some o’ ‘em ain’t seen it an’ won’, I says they deserve to know,”

“I agree, though it may surprise you, I believe that the crew has a right to know what this god-forsaken ship is sailing through,” I answered. “It will stop rumors of a fouler substance, don’t you agree?”

“Aye, cap’n. I’ll speak to the watch,” My First Mate hurried off to inform those of the crew on watch of the dead Sirens in the water, while I turned back to the sea, a strange feeling making me want to keep an eye on the dead ones.

A lady sat on the railing; her skin was so white it was almost translucent, though bruises stained her neck. Her dark hair streamed water down her bare back, her blue lips smiled at me, her eyes were like pools of fire that seemed to swallow me whole, devouring me. Slender fingers danced over my cheek; I could barely feel the black fingernails scratch lines down my face. Her rotting breath felt like a fresh breeze as she pulled me closer, closer...

I was ripped from her grasp; her screech of pain made my ears feel like they were bleeding. She was in pain and I had to help her, but strong arms restrained me, tied me to the mast, I could only watch as she was hacked to pieces, but not blood spilled out of her, only cold, cold salt water. Though she did not bleed, I did. The cuts her sharp nails gouged in my face sent rivers of red flowing onto the wooden boards below me. It was now that I felt the pain, like jolts of electricity they reverberated through my body, and though fog still clouded my vision, I could hear quite clearly the screams of my crew.

“Sirens! SIRENS! PLUG YOUR EARS, DO NOT BE BROUGHT UNDER THEIR SPELL!” Old Crawley ran past, shouting at the top of his lungs. In his wake, James brought more men, freshly roused from their slumber.

I could see more Sirens crawling over the side of the ship, could see them grab my men and throw them overboard. I was captivated by their beauty, the enchanting glow of moonlight on their naked skin. I tried to break free, desperately throwing myself against the ropes binding me to my ship. It is a strange tale to tell, but the second all the men were thrown from the ship, the fog enclosing the ship was dispersed. The Sirens gathered on the ship, singing unearthly songs, the music a symphony of screeches and clear melodies. Their black nails carved the lyrics on the rail, the deck, the sails of the ship. One Siren led the Cabin Boys out of the nooks and crannies they had been hiding in. As they walked past us, she whispered in James’s ear,

“Don’t you worry, you shalt have a home with us, sweet boy,” she promised. “No longer will you bear the burden of a mortal life. We shall wed you all to our daughters, now that the horrible men holding you captive are drowned. Wouldn’t you like that?”

And James, spellbound as he was, followed this beautiful creature, with her blue lips and translucent skin, to the others. Their gorgeous eyes lit up at the boys they were saving, at their health and handsomeness. Each boy held the hand of a Siren as they jumped overboard. I would have screamed for the children; my dark pirate heart was able to find mercy only for the little ones. I would have called for the Sirens to return to my ship, I would have fought for my men, now drowned at sea. I would have done a lot had a Siren not crowded my field of view, a silver crown atop her head, metal dress gleaming. She grasped my chin gently, turning my face from side to side. Beneath her touch, I felt no fear as she examined the deep cuts gouged in my face.

“It will scar, mortal,” she explained. “But I feel no pity for you. You think your heart is cold? You are what made the world cold and unforgiving. We were not always Sirens; we used to be human women. Then men like you came along searching for treasure we did not want to give, but you took it anyway. We were shunned and exiled. We were called witches. I despise you; your people disgust me.”

“Calling you beautiful would be like calling the moon bright,” I breathed. “I will not insult you by making you less than what you are-” Suddenly, her grip was not so gentle. Reflexive tears sprang to my eyes at the pain.

“You are doing it now, man,” she spitted. “My beauty is nothing compared to my anger. I am not an object to be used. But I am no longer powerless, no, I could tear you apart, hear you beg and cry. How sweet would that sound to my ears?”

I dared not to make a sound, not to breathe, lest she unleash her fury unto me. She studied me curiously, but her gaze was not innocent. It was the gaze of a predator knowing that she has the upper hand. Abruptly, she let go of me.

“I will let you go. Spread the story far and wide but touch any other woman again and I will hunt you, hurt you, and make you fear me and my sisters,” she smiled sharply. “Don’t try to sail again. Do that and I will rip your boat apart and make you watch your Cabin Boys scream with pain. We only saved the ones on this ship because James’s mother is part of our number,” She unsheathed my sword at my hip and cut through the rope binding me. Her gaze softened slightly, saddened, then hardened again. I realized I know her face.

“Elise?” I wondered. “Is it you?”

“I am Elise, but I am not your wife any longer. You don’t get to take advantage of my naivety this time, Henry. I am the power of the sea and I do not spare. I will give you four hours to get to shore. After that, I will hunt to kill,” she vowed, anger emanating from her gaze. I nodded briefly and then she jumped overboard, her armor turning to scales midair.

And that was the last I saw of Elise. Her cruelty still surprises me to this day. I have been stuck on land for years; I yearn for the sway of the ship beneath my legs, despite my old age,” Father shuts the book with a snap. “So, Lirian, what did you think of the story?”

“It was a book about you!” I exclaim. He shushes me quickly.

“It wasn’t about me, I was in it, but it wasn’t about me,” Father smiles softly. “It was about an evil man who took advantage of women, and payed dearly for his wrongdoing. Always remember this, my child. Women must be respected, no matter if they are human or Siren, and you deserve to be respected as well.”

“I understand,” I say readily. “I don’t yell at Mother, and she doesn’t yell at me!”

“Yes, Lirian, you are on the way to becoming one of the best men I have ever met,” he praises me. Mother floats into the room.

“James, it’s high time he gets into bed,” she scolds him playfully enough that I know she doesn’t really mind. She tussles my hair.

“Mother?” I ask. “Where is the evil man in the story now?”

Her hand stills on my head. I look up at her, looking at Father with a question in her eyes. He shrugs wanly and turns to me.

“The evil man tried to sail a ship again, and the Siren Queen stayed true to her word and sunk his ship. His body is in a museum if you would like to visit it!” Father says. Mother sends him a reproachful look. “Or maybe when you’re older,”

“Yes, when you are older,” Mother promises. “Now, you must do to bed, darling. Sweet dreams!”

I smile as she walks out, arm in arm with Father. I can hear her mutter softly to him, her words tinged with happiness. That night I dream of wicked pirates and brave Sirens who rose up again to defend the world against evil.