The Case of the Fickle Mermaid (27 page)

“It is. My desire was to see no more cruisers here. There was nothing personal in my actions . . .”

“Damn you for a fool, man!” roared the captain. “There is nothing more personal to a ship's master than his ship, do you not know that?”

Gretel stepped between the two men, not entirely trusting the captain's command of his temper.

“Dr. Becker is not a scoundrel, captain. He is, in fact, a man of passion like yourself, the difference being that while your passion is for your ship, his is for birds.”

“Birds?” The mermaid was at a loss. “What has my singing to do with birds?” she asked. “I am a creature of the sea. Fowl pay me no heed whatsoever, and I confess I find gulls most raucous and tiresome things.”

“Birds?” Captain Ziegler shook his head. “You talk in riddles, fraulein. Everyone knows the doctor is enamored of the things, spends his days looking at 'em. But what in Neptune's name does that have to do with me and my ship?”

“If I might be permitted to explain . . . ?” Dr. Becker asked.

“Get on with it, man!” was the captain's reply.

“I have made a lifetime study of the sea and coastal birds in this region, and I have discovered that the little Frisian Islands that dot these waters are crucial to their continued well-being. It is upon these islands that the birds make their nests and rear their young.”

The mermaid gave a yawn. “I cannot see why one would care,” she said, “as there are so very many of the shrill things. And they travel so far. Why cannot they go elsewhere if needs be? Who would notice?”

“Forgive me, fraulein,” the doctor continued, “but there are many different varieties and species of bird. You are correct when you say that common gulls are plentiful, and indeed they are able to make their homes in many different places. The problem lies with the rarer birds, those of a nature more shy and delicate. Their numbers are few
and they often raise only one chick in a year. Should they be disturbed, should they fail to produce young, well, the decline in their numbers would certainly be swift and could very well be dire.”

The captain was struggling to find it in himself to understand. “We take our own food aboard, doctor. We do not stoop to trapping gulls and the like to feed crew or passengers. We have no interest in your damn birds.”

“Happily, no, I grant that your detrimental impact upon these fragile species is not deliberate. They would, in any case, prove unpalatable, I believe. No, the problem lies with your very presence, or rather, that of your ship and its passengers. If the parent birds are disturbed during the breeding season, they may abandon their eggs or even leave their chick before it is fledged and able to fend for itself.”

Gretel put in a thought. “The excursions to the islands . . . they must be particularly bothersome for the birds, I should imagine. All manner of people tramping and squealing and taking their noisy leisure. Enough to disturb tame and fed farmyard fowl, let alone shy birds unaccustomed to having humans in their midst.”

“You have seen the dilemma precisely, fraulein,” Dr. Becker told her. “And what is more, upon one of the islands, Amrum, there dwells a very rare bird indeed. The pigeon-toed yellow-necked speckled wader. Such a delightful bird! So elegant, so timid, so graceful in flight and deft in its wading habits. There is not its equal . . .” He pulled himself back from his rapturous reverie. “The fact is that only three breeding pairs remain. Three! Should their clutches come to naught this season, that would be the end of them.”

“No more pigeon-toed yellow-bellied . . . ?” Gretel asked.

“Yellow-necked speckled waders,” the doctor corrected her. “No more. Gone forever. I simply could not stand by and see that happen. I saw it as my duty to act.”

“So you paid the mermaid to sing”—the captain shook his head—“for a few birds.”

Now it was Dr. Becker's turn to become angry. The man was quite transformed.

“Have you no soul, captain? Have you no heart? Do you not see that such fragile beings, such delicate examples of what is pure and innocent in this world, are to be cherished and protected? Is not a society judged upon how it treats its weakest members?” he demanded.

Gretel knew that there was one word in the doctor's argument that might sway the captain: society. Did he not aspire to elevate himself, after all? Was that not his goal in all that he did, to rise above his brutal origins, to slough off his rough past and become a brighter, cleaner, better person? If he wished to join society, whatever that might be taken to mean, must he not then strive to make sure it was something worth the joining? Even if he cared not one sailor's spit for the wretched birds.

It was, however, difficult for him to reconcile the needs of a few feathered beings with the danger to his crew or the threat to his business. “Surely, Dr. Becker,” he said more levelly, “you will grant that a man's life cannot be forfeit to that of a bird? Men have vanished. My cook was murdered . . .”

“Not by the doctor,” Gretel reminded him, “nor anyone acting in his name.”

“But the men who disappeared . . .” the captain insisted.

“Likely either fled because they were overcome by their superstitious fear of the mermaid,” she pointed out, “or else were paid to go.”

“By whom? This savior of birds?”

“Not he.”

“How can you be certain? He seems ready to spend his money when it suits his purposes.”

Here the mermaid found the conversation of interest once more. “He pays me well, that's true. And he's due to pay me again, unless you can persuade me otherwise.”

“The captain has agreed to your terms,” Gretel assured her. “His presence here should reassure you of that.”

The mermaid smiled prettily, reaching out to touch the captain's cheek with a long, cool finger. “Will you take me to the lovely warm waters of the Caribbean, then, captain? Will you convey me safely away from this cold, dreary place?”

“Aye, I will.”

“And will you stay there?” asked Dr. Becker hopefully.

“I will not! I have my reasons for choosing to make these seas my home. I intend on returning to take up my cruises the minute I have delivered my cargo.”

“Cargo!” The mermaid bridled, snatching back her hand. “I would not be called such—”

Dr. Becker became agitated once again. “Sir, if you insist on returning to these islands, I will have no choice but to do my utmost to prevent you. I give you fair warning.”

“Do you threaten me, doctor?!” Captain Ziegler stood tall and strong in front of the older man, who at once looked even more flimsy than usual.

“Gentlemen, please.” Gretel raised her hands. “This is not the moment to fall to squabbling. May I remind you, captain, that even now Cat's Tongue and his cohort are on their way to scuttle our boat? Are we not people of logic and reason? It cannot be beyond us to find a solution that is satisfactory to all, but for now, we must work together, else we shall be at the mercy of those villains, and with no boat in which to return to the
Arabella
.”

Both men deflated a little. The mermaid, bored with the whole business, took to combing her lustrous hair with a shell. “As long as I am given safe passage, as agreed, I am content.”

“But,” Dr. Becker stuttered, “what of
our
agreement?”

“I agreed to sing for gold because it was what I needed to leave this dismal place. Dear Captain Ziegler has agreed to take me, so I have no further need of you, doctor. I am sorry if that does not suit, but there it is,” she told him with a shrug.

“Dr. Becker.” Gretel put a hand on his arm. “I ask you to trust me when I tell you that we will find a solution. One that does not entail ruining Captain Ziegler.”

“But one that will protect my birds?”

“It will.”

“Including the pigeon-toed yellow-necked speckled waders?”

“Especially . . . those.”

“I have your word?”

“You have it.”

He took a breath and nodded steadily. “The word of Gretel of Gesternstadt is enough for me.”

“Excellent!” She strode toward the entrance of the cave. “Come, gentlemen, there is no time to lose. Fraulein,” she said, turning briefly to address the mermaid, “as soon as our business is concluded, we will return to collect you.”

“Must I wait more?” she whined.

“Not beyond two more days and nights, I promise. And so does the captain, don't you, captain?”

“You have my promise, fraulein, but now we must take our leave,” he said with a flamboyant bow.

So saying, the three of them hastened from the cave, the mermaid, mollified, bidding them
adieu
and blowing them charming kisses as they went.

As they made their way along the narrow path, the captain gave a shout.

“Ship ahoy!” he exclaimed, pointing at the horizon.

Dr. Becker raised his glasses to his eyes. Gretel peered through her lorgnettes.

“A rough vessel, apparently heading toward us,” she said.

“And sitting low in the water,” observed Captain Ziegler. “She's loaded up with something, and I'll wager it is brandy.”

“That's one bet even Hans would turn down. Come along, we must get to the lifeboat before it is too late.”

Dr. Becker piped up, “There is always my boat.”

“Hell's teeth!” exclaimed the captain. “I should make more money hiring out my tenders and launches than I do cruising! And yet you are no sailor; how is it you are able to find your way at sea unassisted?”

“My many years of studying the birds of these islands have given me a familiarity with both the seas hereabouts and the craft necessary to travel about them.”

Gretel urged them to hasten, saying, “We cannot be certain your boat will not have been discovered by our attackers. Their own, they succeeded in hiding before we arrived. We must assume they know these isles even better than you do, Dr. Becker. Let us make all haste!”

They scrambled on. As they approached the stretch of shore where they had left the boat with Sailor Braun, they were relieved to spy it still sitting among the dunes, apparently undisturbed. On arriving at the spot, they found poor Braun trussed as they had been. Dr. Becker employed his small pocketknife to free him from his ropes.

“How long ago did the villains leave you?” the captain asked, keeping his voice low and looking about him as he spoke.

“They've been gone an hour or more, cap'n,” Braun told them. “They went upshore. One of them was wearing your sword, Cap'n Ziegler, sir. I feared the worst.”

“You underestimate me,” he replied, then, catching Gretel's eye, added, “you underestimate
us.
”

“Let us not dawdle,” Gretel chivvied the others along. “We must be gone from here before they return.”

The captain growled. “But I should like to see to them, God damn me for a liar if I would not.”

“May I remind you, captain, that we are all of us unarmed? The odds are stacked against us. For all we know, they may bring further assistance from the approaching ship. We cannot risk facing them now, but must leave this place and return to the
Arabella
.”

“But what of our proof, fraulein? We may have set terms with the mermaid, and I believe you have a notion of how an agreement might be made with our doctor of birds, but where is the means by which I might give Hoffman his comeuppance?”

Gretel was about to speak eloquently on the wisdom of quitting while one was ahead, and of how they must count themselves fortunate that Dr. Becker had arrived to release them from their predicament, when a shout from the dunes alerted them, too late, to the return of the smugglers. In seconds they were upon them. Pustule charged, fists raised. Mold brandished not only his own but the captain's pistol. Cat's Tongue drew the captain's sword. There were roars, there were profanities, there were oaths and vulgar vocatives. Among it all, Gretel heard Captain Ziegler swearing that he would not be felled by one of his own weapons. Braun, an exemplar of his name, waded into the fray with nothing more than his muscles, which were easily a match for the unarmed Pustule, whom he knocked to the ground with a single blow and then held tight around the throat to prevent any further trouble from that direction. Cat's Tongue swung the sword awkwardly at the captain, who nimbly sidestepped his inexpert thrusts. Mold leveled one of the pistols at Dr. Becker and Gretel. She found the sun, dropping low behind their assailant, hard to face, making her raise her arm to shield her eyes as she attempted to see what Mold was about to do. As luck, and anatomy, would have it, the raising of her arm caused the raising of her bosom
and therefore the raising of her lorgnettes, which tilted back due to the sloping nature of their resting place. As it did so, that same dazzling sun caught the lenses so that a flare rebounded directly into Mold's eyes. He was blinded and confused. Gretel saw her moment and charged, meeting his chest with her shoulder and the full force of her full figure behind it. Mold dropped both guns, one going off as it hit the ground, the shot finding the sword arm of Cat's Tongue, who let out a shriek and let go of the blade, which the captain snatched up.

In a matter of seconds it was over, and the six were frozen in a tableau of halted violence. Captain Ziegler loomed above a kneeling, sobbing Cat's Tongue, the point of his reclaimed sword hovering inches from the ruffian's heart. Braun had wrestled Mold into complete submission and now held him firm by twisting his arms behind his back. Pustule lay where he fell with Gretel sitting upon his chest, utterly unable to move. Dr. Becker had retrieved the pistols.

“Damn you for curs and halfwit villains!” the captain bellowed. “Take me on, would you? I'll not suffer a single blow more from the likes of you!” he declared, raising his sword.

“Captain Ziegler, no!” Gretel shouted.

“I plan to run the devil through, fraulein. No use trying to stop me!”