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Mackerel Scales and Mares Tails Part 1
Title: Mackerel Scales and Mares’ Tails
Fandom: POTC
Pairing: Pintel/Ragetti aka moog
Summary: A merman and a human alone in a sandy shore.
Rating: PG-13
Author Notes: The title comes from the sailors' saying 'Mackerel scales and mares' tails make lofty ships carry low sails.
Arijuna is Ragetti. I changed the name since it didn't make sense to me for a merman in the Caribbean to have an Italian sounding name. Also, I did not make up the words I used for his language. They come from some of the Arahuac languages, which were spoken by the people native to the Caribbean and South America.
There once was a merman who lived within the calid waters of the Caribbean Sea. He was named Arijuna in his people’s tongue, which means stranger, because he never stayed in one place for long. He felt no need to settle down in one place when in his wanderings there were such wonders to be found. Fish of myriad shapes and colors populated his home and the sleek form of a whale was not uncommon to his sight. He swam alongside great blue-green sea turtles and delighted in the wondrous colors of the coral. Gentle manatees welcomed his presence. He had all sorts of creatures to entertain him, from sea horses that wrapped their tails around his fingers to octopuses that changed color to blend in with the ocean floor. But there was one creature that amused him most of all and it was not marine. Humans. So alike and yet so different from his kind. Above the waist, the arms, chest, face were all the same but below, not a tail, but legs instead. Pathetic swimmers though it made them, it enabled them to wander over the land most effectively. Dry land was a place merpeople could not go, and most didn’t bother thinking about, but Arijuna wondered endlessly about it. What was it like beyond the sandy shore, the meeting place of land and sea? What manner of creatures inhabited it? What marvels were there to discover? This is what Arijuna wanted to know. But above all the land creatures, the men fascinated him the most and these he did not need to go on land to observe, for they came to him.
He followed the odd craft that carried them across the sea whenever he found them. He listened as the wind carried their voices over to him. He couldn’t understand what was spoken, but he listened attentively all the same. He especially enjoyed their singing. Sometimes, at night, he wasn’t satisfied with simply hearing the blend of men’s voices and instruments. He would climb up the side of the vessel, pulling himself up solely by his arms until he reached the main deck. There he hanged from the rail, careful not to be seen. Wide-eyed, he watched the men move about the deck on their sturdy legs. He wondered what it would feel like to have those strange appendages instead of a tail. Standing upright outside the water, feeling the solid wood beneath feet that moved so perfectly above it. Feet that easily took the men anywhere they wanted to go on the ship, whether it was simply across the deck or up those long, tall masts that reached up to the sky.
Many questions such as this did he ask himself. But they were momentarily forgotten when a certain man caught his attention. It was nighttime when Arijuna heard the unmistakable sound of music and song coming from the latest ship he’d encountered. He climbed up to the rail and observed the crew go about singing their shanties while they drank from their tankards. There, among the group closest to him was a man who caught his gaze and didn’t let it go. A different observer might not have thought him worthy of notice, but Arijuna could not look away. He had not the beauty that artists praised, but Arijuna thought him handsome, with his long, dark hair and his wide smile as he sang with the rest of the crew. The song ended and the man raised his tankard to his mouth and took a long swig. Arijuna watched, entranced, as the liquid poured down his throat. He could see remnants of the liquor glistening on his lips. New questions surfaced in his mind. What if he could lick off that strange liquid, would he like that? What would his lips taste like? What would his hair feel like on his skin? And what would he think if he knew that a merman was having such thoughts about him? This last question troubled him most of all, for past encounters between humans and his kind had not gone well for the merfolk. Humans considered them creatures of legend, yet they had no difficulty using them to suit their needs and wants. He had heard tell of mermaids who had been snatched from the water and of the loud, smoking weapons they used on those who did not please them. Would this man do the same to him?
As he pondered this, he failed to notice the object of his scrutiny turn toward where he was and frown. It wasn’t until he started walking across the deck that Arijuna realized that he’d been seen. He quickly let go of the rail and dove back into the water. He stayed below for a long while after the vessel had passed by, then raised his head out of the water. The man was still at the rail, searching for him in the waves, but soon he desisted and returned to the company. Arijuna breathed a sigh of relief; it had been a narrow escape. But he could not let the vessel sail away. His curiosity had been sparked even further than before and it was all centered around that man. He swam alongside the vessel for three days, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. And he did see him, sometimes on deck, others as a small figure in the mess of rigging. Far from satisfying him, each new sighting increased his desire for not only a closer look, but for an opportunity to answer those questions he had been pondering.
It proved lucky for the man that Arijuna was watching him so attentively, for else he would not have survived the storm that arrived on the fourth day. It was stronger than anything the crew was prepared for. The wind beat at the sails mercilessly, howling its displeasure and the waves rolled sharply and tipped the sloop to and fro. Arijuna was a strong swimmer, but his struggles were nearly in vain as the current tossed him farther away from the vessel. He tried frantically to keep his eyes above the water. That is how he saw a particularly powerful wave rock the sloop and sweep the deck, washing the man he’d been fixated on overboard. With a speed fueled by fear, he swam to the spot where he’d seen him fall. He found him before he could sink too far. He grabbed him by the torso and pulled him to the surface. It was pointless to try to take him back to the ship; it was too far away by then. Arijuna desperately searched the horizon for something, anything-- there, a fair distance away he could see the vague outline of an island. Struggling to keep the man’s head above the water, he swam toward it as fast as he could, but the extra weight he was carrying made it a slow going. Night had fallen by the time they reached land. Arijuna laid the man on his back on dry sand and checked that he was still breathing. When he felt soft but steady breath on the palm of his hand, he collapsed in an exhausted heap and drifted into a swift sleep.
He awoke as the first tendrils of sunlight fell across his face. The presence of this light and the absence of water around him shocked him for a moment, but he saw the man at his side and remembered. The man was stirring, slowly stumbling to consciousness. The earlier worry crossed Arijuna’s mind, but he could not leave now. The man slowly opened his eyes. Arijuna leaned over him, watching him carefully. The man narrowed his eyes in recognition. He spoke some words in his tongue that Arijuna did not understand. Arijuna shrugged and shook his head, trying to convey his failure to comprehend. The man did not comprehend and kept on talking. Then he sat up and saw the rest of Arijuna’s body.
‘I saw you that night.’
When Pintel had seen that face looking at him from one of the scuppers he’d thought that the drink was messing with his brain. But that didn’t make sense; he’d not yet had enough to drink for that. And here was the lad, not a foot from his face, shaking his head at him.
‘No, I know it was you. I saw you fall, the splash you made. But how is that possible?’
He pushed himself upright.
‘No man can--’
He fell silent. It couldn’t be, it just wasn’t possible. The lad had no legs, but a long fish tail instead. He had drunk too much seawater. Yes, that was it. The shock of being washed overboard was making him see things. Maybe he’d hit his head on something on his way to the water. That could not be a tail--it moved. The tail touched his foot and he jumped. The merman moved back, his head downcast and his eyes filled with worry.
Pintel knew what he was. He’d heard tales of the beautiful mermaids that were said to inhabit some of these tropical shores, but he’d never thought that they could be true. Yet here was one of their kind. But he was no maid, he was a lad. And a lovely one, at that. His eyes mirrored the waters of the open sea and his hair shone pale gold in the morning light. It stretched down to his shoulders. His upper body was a bit too pale and thin, but still attractive. His tail was long and sleek and of a blue-grey color. Pintel laid his hand flat atop it. It wasn’t scaly, but smooth. He ran his hand across it, feeling the ripple of muscle under the skin. Soon he had both hands on it, moving them to and fro, unable to get enough of this wonder. The tail undulated under him and he marveled at the strength in the motion. He reached the two large fins at the end. They flittered playfully in his grasp. A soft sigh made him look up. The merman was lying back with his eyes closed, and a smile on his face.
‘You’re enjoying this,’ Pintel said, amused. He suddenly realized that touching his tail all over like that might have been too much of a liberty.
The merman didn’t respond, he just opened his eyes and looked at him.
‘You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?’
The merman frowned. After a moment, he got up on his elbows and pointed to himself, saying, ‘Arijuna,’ then he pointed to Pintel and asked, ‘Uará?’
Pintel thought for a moment. It looked like the merman was giving him his name and asking for his in return. His suspicion was confirmed when the merman repeated the words and gestures.
Pintel placed his hand on his chest and said, ‘Pintel.’
Arijuna smiled and repeated his name, looking like he’d discovered a special treat.
Pintel didn’t know where to go from there. What do you say to someone who doesn’t understand what you’re saying? But soon Arijuna was gesturing again. He was pointing at Pintel and rubbing his stomach, a question in his eyes. Pintel quickly understood what he was trying to ask. He was pretty hungry. He nodded. Arijuna pointed to himself, then at the sea and made some wavy motions with his hand. Pintel frowned, confused. Arijuna stopped, looking as frustrated as Pintel felt. He searched in the wet sand and picked up a cone shaped shell, which he used to draw a fish. He pointed at the drawing, himself, and the sea again. He would get fish for Pintel to eat. Pintel nodded. Satisfied, Arijuna flipped onto his stomach and dragged himself to the water. A few yards out, he surfaced, smiled back at Pintel, then dove out of sight.
Pintel stared at the ripples Arijuna left in his wake, trying to process what had just happened. He had fallen overboard and a merman--with a very real tail-- had rescued him, brought him ashore, and was now getting him food. This all would be much easier to process if it weren’t for the merman part. And how were they going to communicate if they didn’t understand what the other was saying?
Arijuna didn’t really know how they would manage that either, but he was too happy to worry about it right now. Of all the reactions he had been expecting, that had certainly not been it. His skin still tingled where Pintel’s hands had touched him. The man--his man-- touching him like that was more than he had hoped for. Arijuna had simply lied back and let the wonderful sensations brought by Pintel’s hands disperse his thoughts.
And now he knew his name. Pintel. It sounded strange to his ears yet it felt good on his tongue. He repeated it, tasting it, savoring it like he would an especially delectable piece of fish. He had to bring the best, the most delicious fish that he could find. And he had to hurry, he couldn’t let Pintel go hungry.
Arijuna paused. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know what else humans ate apart from the creatures that they took from the sea. Could the island provide the rest? Also, he would need shelter. And what if the island was populated with more of his kind and he went with them, leaving Arijuna alone. What if he wasn’t there when he came back? No, he wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t worry about that. He’d get the fish and go back and Pintel would still be there.
And that is precisely what happened. Not that Pintel had stayed put. Preoccupied by the same things as Arijuna, he had gone off to explore the island. Not terribly far inland, he found a stream and some trees that bore fruit. As far as he could see, there was no sign of human inhabitants. Unlike Arijuna, Pintel did not consider this a good thing. He wanted to get back to civilization. The sloop wasn’t going to be looking for him and it was highly unlikely that another would just happen to stop by anytime soon. He might as well have been marooned. Although men were rarely marooned in places as nice as this one. And they certainly didn’t have mermen to accompany them. That last part still gave him trouble. But he wasn’t one of those who denied what they had seen with their own eyes. He’d seen him, he’d felt him. He was as real as the sand beneath his feet.
He returned to shore just in time to meet Arijuna. Shortly after he’d arrived, Arijuna poked his head out of the water. He smiled when he saw Pintel and submerged to swim the rest of the way to shore. He had two large carmine colored fish in his arms, which he handed to Pintel so the current wouldn’t wash them away. Pintel recognized this kind; they were prized for their flavor. He placed them on dry sand far enough away so that the waves couldn’t get to them should the tide rise.
He was about to go search for firewood when he saw Arijuna trying to drag himself toward him. He was having a hard time at it, since he could only propel himself forward with his arms. Pintel walked over to him.
‘Here, let me help you,’ he said, leaning down.
Arijuna gazed up at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
‘Me help you,’ he said slowly in an accented voice.
‘Yes, I’ll help you, I’ll carry you.’
‘Help carry you.’
‘Yes.’
Pintel crouched, placed his hands on Arijuna’s shoulder and hip and gently tried to coax him to roll over. Arijuna grasped what he was trying to do and fell onto his back. Pintel slipped his arms underneath his body and lifted him. He was a little surprised at the weight; Arijuna was heavier than he looked. He felt the coolness of Arijuna’s bare skin through his shirt, but it quickly warmed to Pintel’s. He fit nicely in Pintel’s arms, his thin frame pressed comfortably to his body.
‘Help you,’ Arijuna repeated.
‘Yes, we’ve been through that already.’
‘You uara,’ Arijuna exclaimed, looking excited.
‘What?’ Pintel frowned at him.
‘Uara you. You uara.’
Pintel set him down beside the fish and thought about what he was saying. Arijuna had realized what ’you’ meant and was telling Pintel what it was in his language. Pintel tentatively pointed at Arijuna and said, ‘Uara.’ Arijuna nodded. He pointed at himself and said, ‘Daca‘, then at Pintel and said, ‘Uara.’ Pintel repeated the motions, replacing the words with ‘I’ and ‘you’. Arijuna then repeated them.
Well, Pintel thought, that’s four more words. Only two whole languages to go.
They didn’t learn each other’s entire language while they were on the island, but they did learn much. They named everything that they saw, each in their own language. Actions were harder to convey, as some could easily be confused for others. ‘Helping’ was mixed up with ‘carrying’ for a while, but eventually they got it straight. The hardest words were those for intangible things like ideas. How do you explain ‘is’ or ‘are’ or ‘frustrated’? There was much frustration, but on the whole they managed it as well as could be expected. And Pintel showed Arijuna things for which the merman had no name. Trees, fruit, fire, freshwater.
There was one place that Pintel had taken him to that was neither land nor ocean, but what he called a river, a long strip of water stretching through the green landscape. Its water was not like that of the sea; it had a different taste, sweet almost. Arijuna learned that this was the water that Pintel drank. He didn’t really understand why Pintel couldn’t drink ocean water, except that it contained something that this river water lacked. The river even had different kinds of fish, fish Arijuna had never seen before. They probably depend on this kind of water like Pintel does, he thought. None of them were particularly big, which made sense, since the water was not too deep. Arijuna couldn’t swim properly in it. Not that it kept him from immersing himself in it whenever Pintel brought him.
And the fruit was unlike anything he’d ever tasted. It was sweet, sour, bittersweet, soft enough to tear apart with his tongue or hard enough to try his teeth. His favorite was a hard, yellow-brown fruit roughly the size of his fist. Its pulp was yellow and was both sour and sweet. He asked Pintel what it was called, but he didn’t know, not having seen it before.
But of all these new wonders that delighted his senses, there was one that intrigued him most of all. Pintel’s legs. Pintel was amused by how fascinated Arijuna seemed to be with his legs. He often caught him looking at them, lips parted in curiosity, eyes alight with wonder. He remembered that expression. It was the same one that Arijuna had on his face when Pintel saw him on the sloop. He noticed with what careful attention Arijuna observed his legs. Arijuna watched every movement they made, from the long strides Pintel took to the slightest wiggle of a toe. Sometimes, one of his hands would reach out, almost of its own accord, and come within a mere inch of Pintel’s skin. But he never made contact; he always drew it back before he could do so. He did not dare. Pintel pondered this. Arijuna was more courteous than he, for he had not waited for consent when he touched his tail. And considering the manner in which he had stroked it, he would not have been surprised had Arijuna pushed him away and left him to fend for himself. But he hadn’t. Shouldn’t he allow him the same privilege? Besides, he had wondered about how those long fingered hands would feel on his skin.
Finally, at the end of an afternoon spent practicing their newly acquired languages, Pintel stretched out his legs to Arijuna and said, ‘Go on, touch them.’
Arijuna looked at him in disbelief, but soon a happy grin illuminated his lips. He shifted so that he was right in front of Pintel’s feet and he laid his hands on them. His initial touch was tentative, shy even. He skimmed the skin of his feet with the tips of his fingers, leaving cool patterns in their wake. They tickled the soles of his feet, yet Pintel did not smile but shivered instead. When Arijuna had traced every bit of skin in this fashion, he wrapped his hands around his feet, molding his hands to their contours. He paid careful attention to each toe, separating each from the rest and observing it individually. He stroked and flexed them with his fingers. His face was merely inches away. Pintel was struck by the way that Arijuna was looking at him, as if he were the wondrous being here, he who was worthy of awe and amazement. Pintel had never been the subject of such scrutiny before. He was no more noteworthy than the average sailor. It’s because I’m human, he thought. He’s not had the chance to see one of us up close and he’s curious, is all. But something in the manner in which Arijuna touched him and the memory of his expression on the ship told him that it was he Arijuna was interested in and he alone.
Arijuna started up Pintel’s legs. He felt the bony ridges of his ankles and the tendons that ran up from his heels. His hands slowly glided up his calves; he stopped to gently squeeze the firm muscle. His actions grew bolder as he reached the edge of Pintel’s breeches at his knees. Instead of stopping there, he slipped his hands beneath the cloth as far as he was able, which was only up to mid-thigh. Pintel’s breath caught as Arijuna abandoned this route and stroked him through his breeches. One hand ran up his inner thigh, coming ever closer to his groin. Pintel thought of stopping him, his hand even reached up to do it, but it stilled in mid air. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to stop Arijuna.
In any case, there was no need. Arijuna suddenly realized what he was about to do and stopped before he went any further. He glanced at Pintel with a mixture of panic, embarrassment, and apology and quickly looked away. Pintel felt the sudden urge to pull him forward and kiss that panic right off his face. It wasn’t the first time he’d had the desire to do so. A man of his likes could not be expected to not think about it when alone for weeks with a creature as lovely as Arijuna. But if he’d been interested only in a momentary pleasure, he would act and take it when he could. But he didn’t act. They just sat there in an awkward silence, neither looking at the other.
The silence was broken when Arijuna rolled onto his back and said, ‘Carry me to water?’
Pintel pushed his muddled thoughts aside and picked him up. It was routine now for Pintel to carry Arijuna about the land, but Arijuna’s familiar weight felt especially heavy this time. Arijuna’s eyes were inches from his, but his gaze was fixed on the rosy horizon.
He gently placed him in the shallow water. Before Arijuna could slip away, Pintel grasped his arm. Arijuna looked up at him expectantly.
‘Good night,’ Pintel said softly.
The corners of Arijuna’s lips quirked up in a small smile.
‘Good night,’ he answered and swam off into the darkened water.
Pintel stood at the shore watching the water until the last glimmer of sunlight had faded away.
Fandom: POTC
Pairing: Pintel/Ragetti aka moog
Summary: A merman and a human alone in a sandy shore.
Rating: PG-13
Author Notes: The title comes from the sailors' saying 'Mackerel scales and mares' tails make lofty ships carry low sails.
Arijuna is Ragetti. I changed the name since it didn't make sense to me for a merman in the Caribbean to have an Italian sounding name. Also, I did not make up the words I used for his language. They come from some of the Arahuac languages, which were spoken by the people native to the Caribbean and South America.
There once was a merman who lived within the calid waters of the Caribbean Sea. He was named Arijuna in his people’s tongue, which means stranger, because he never stayed in one place for long. He felt no need to settle down in one place when in his wanderings there were such wonders to be found. Fish of myriad shapes and colors populated his home and the sleek form of a whale was not uncommon to his sight. He swam alongside great blue-green sea turtles and delighted in the wondrous colors of the coral. Gentle manatees welcomed his presence. He had all sorts of creatures to entertain him, from sea horses that wrapped their tails around his fingers to octopuses that changed color to blend in with the ocean floor. But there was one creature that amused him most of all and it was not marine. Humans. So alike and yet so different from his kind. Above the waist, the arms, chest, face were all the same but below, not a tail, but legs instead. Pathetic swimmers though it made them, it enabled them to wander over the land most effectively. Dry land was a place merpeople could not go, and most didn’t bother thinking about, but Arijuna wondered endlessly about it. What was it like beyond the sandy shore, the meeting place of land and sea? What manner of creatures inhabited it? What marvels were there to discover? This is what Arijuna wanted to know. But above all the land creatures, the men fascinated him the most and these he did not need to go on land to observe, for they came to him.
He followed the odd craft that carried them across the sea whenever he found them. He listened as the wind carried their voices over to him. He couldn’t understand what was spoken, but he listened attentively all the same. He especially enjoyed their singing. Sometimes, at night, he wasn’t satisfied with simply hearing the blend of men’s voices and instruments. He would climb up the side of the vessel, pulling himself up solely by his arms until he reached the main deck. There he hanged from the rail, careful not to be seen. Wide-eyed, he watched the men move about the deck on their sturdy legs. He wondered what it would feel like to have those strange appendages instead of a tail. Standing upright outside the water, feeling the solid wood beneath feet that moved so perfectly above it. Feet that easily took the men anywhere they wanted to go on the ship, whether it was simply across the deck or up those long, tall masts that reached up to the sky.
Many questions such as this did he ask himself. But they were momentarily forgotten when a certain man caught his attention. It was nighttime when Arijuna heard the unmistakable sound of music and song coming from the latest ship he’d encountered. He climbed up to the rail and observed the crew go about singing their shanties while they drank from their tankards. There, among the group closest to him was a man who caught his gaze and didn’t let it go. A different observer might not have thought him worthy of notice, but Arijuna could not look away. He had not the beauty that artists praised, but Arijuna thought him handsome, with his long, dark hair and his wide smile as he sang with the rest of the crew. The song ended and the man raised his tankard to his mouth and took a long swig. Arijuna watched, entranced, as the liquid poured down his throat. He could see remnants of the liquor glistening on his lips. New questions surfaced in his mind. What if he could lick off that strange liquid, would he like that? What would his lips taste like? What would his hair feel like on his skin? And what would he think if he knew that a merman was having such thoughts about him? This last question troubled him most of all, for past encounters between humans and his kind had not gone well for the merfolk. Humans considered them creatures of legend, yet they had no difficulty using them to suit their needs and wants. He had heard tell of mermaids who had been snatched from the water and of the loud, smoking weapons they used on those who did not please them. Would this man do the same to him?
As he pondered this, he failed to notice the object of his scrutiny turn toward where he was and frown. It wasn’t until he started walking across the deck that Arijuna realized that he’d been seen. He quickly let go of the rail and dove back into the water. He stayed below for a long while after the vessel had passed by, then raised his head out of the water. The man was still at the rail, searching for him in the waves, but soon he desisted and returned to the company. Arijuna breathed a sigh of relief; it had been a narrow escape. But he could not let the vessel sail away. His curiosity had been sparked even further than before and it was all centered around that man. He swam alongside the vessel for three days, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. And he did see him, sometimes on deck, others as a small figure in the mess of rigging. Far from satisfying him, each new sighting increased his desire for not only a closer look, but for an opportunity to answer those questions he had been pondering.
It proved lucky for the man that Arijuna was watching him so attentively, for else he would not have survived the storm that arrived on the fourth day. It was stronger than anything the crew was prepared for. The wind beat at the sails mercilessly, howling its displeasure and the waves rolled sharply and tipped the sloop to and fro. Arijuna was a strong swimmer, but his struggles were nearly in vain as the current tossed him farther away from the vessel. He tried frantically to keep his eyes above the water. That is how he saw a particularly powerful wave rock the sloop and sweep the deck, washing the man he’d been fixated on overboard. With a speed fueled by fear, he swam to the spot where he’d seen him fall. He found him before he could sink too far. He grabbed him by the torso and pulled him to the surface. It was pointless to try to take him back to the ship; it was too far away by then. Arijuna desperately searched the horizon for something, anything-- there, a fair distance away he could see the vague outline of an island. Struggling to keep the man’s head above the water, he swam toward it as fast as he could, but the extra weight he was carrying made it a slow going. Night had fallen by the time they reached land. Arijuna laid the man on his back on dry sand and checked that he was still breathing. When he felt soft but steady breath on the palm of his hand, he collapsed in an exhausted heap and drifted into a swift sleep.
He awoke as the first tendrils of sunlight fell across his face. The presence of this light and the absence of water around him shocked him for a moment, but he saw the man at his side and remembered. The man was stirring, slowly stumbling to consciousness. The earlier worry crossed Arijuna’s mind, but he could not leave now. The man slowly opened his eyes. Arijuna leaned over him, watching him carefully. The man narrowed his eyes in recognition. He spoke some words in his tongue that Arijuna did not understand. Arijuna shrugged and shook his head, trying to convey his failure to comprehend. The man did not comprehend and kept on talking. Then he sat up and saw the rest of Arijuna’s body.
‘I saw you that night.’
When Pintel had seen that face looking at him from one of the scuppers he’d thought that the drink was messing with his brain. But that didn’t make sense; he’d not yet had enough to drink for that. And here was the lad, not a foot from his face, shaking his head at him.
‘No, I know it was you. I saw you fall, the splash you made. But how is that possible?’
He pushed himself upright.
‘No man can--’
He fell silent. It couldn’t be, it just wasn’t possible. The lad had no legs, but a long fish tail instead. He had drunk too much seawater. Yes, that was it. The shock of being washed overboard was making him see things. Maybe he’d hit his head on something on his way to the water. That could not be a tail--it moved. The tail touched his foot and he jumped. The merman moved back, his head downcast and his eyes filled with worry.
Pintel knew what he was. He’d heard tales of the beautiful mermaids that were said to inhabit some of these tropical shores, but he’d never thought that they could be true. Yet here was one of their kind. But he was no maid, he was a lad. And a lovely one, at that. His eyes mirrored the waters of the open sea and his hair shone pale gold in the morning light. It stretched down to his shoulders. His upper body was a bit too pale and thin, but still attractive. His tail was long and sleek and of a blue-grey color. Pintel laid his hand flat atop it. It wasn’t scaly, but smooth. He ran his hand across it, feeling the ripple of muscle under the skin. Soon he had both hands on it, moving them to and fro, unable to get enough of this wonder. The tail undulated under him and he marveled at the strength in the motion. He reached the two large fins at the end. They flittered playfully in his grasp. A soft sigh made him look up. The merman was lying back with his eyes closed, and a smile on his face.
‘You’re enjoying this,’ Pintel said, amused. He suddenly realized that touching his tail all over like that might have been too much of a liberty.
The merman didn’t respond, he just opened his eyes and looked at him.
‘You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?’
The merman frowned. After a moment, he got up on his elbows and pointed to himself, saying, ‘Arijuna,’ then he pointed to Pintel and asked, ‘Uará?’
Pintel thought for a moment. It looked like the merman was giving him his name and asking for his in return. His suspicion was confirmed when the merman repeated the words and gestures.
Pintel placed his hand on his chest and said, ‘Pintel.’
Arijuna smiled and repeated his name, looking like he’d discovered a special treat.
Pintel didn’t know where to go from there. What do you say to someone who doesn’t understand what you’re saying? But soon Arijuna was gesturing again. He was pointing at Pintel and rubbing his stomach, a question in his eyes. Pintel quickly understood what he was trying to ask. He was pretty hungry. He nodded. Arijuna pointed to himself, then at the sea and made some wavy motions with his hand. Pintel frowned, confused. Arijuna stopped, looking as frustrated as Pintel felt. He searched in the wet sand and picked up a cone shaped shell, which he used to draw a fish. He pointed at the drawing, himself, and the sea again. He would get fish for Pintel to eat. Pintel nodded. Satisfied, Arijuna flipped onto his stomach and dragged himself to the water. A few yards out, he surfaced, smiled back at Pintel, then dove out of sight.
Pintel stared at the ripples Arijuna left in his wake, trying to process what had just happened. He had fallen overboard and a merman--with a very real tail-- had rescued him, brought him ashore, and was now getting him food. This all would be much easier to process if it weren’t for the merman part. And how were they going to communicate if they didn’t understand what the other was saying?
Arijuna didn’t really know how they would manage that either, but he was too happy to worry about it right now. Of all the reactions he had been expecting, that had certainly not been it. His skin still tingled where Pintel’s hands had touched him. The man--his man-- touching him like that was more than he had hoped for. Arijuna had simply lied back and let the wonderful sensations brought by Pintel’s hands disperse his thoughts.
And now he knew his name. Pintel. It sounded strange to his ears yet it felt good on his tongue. He repeated it, tasting it, savoring it like he would an especially delectable piece of fish. He had to bring the best, the most delicious fish that he could find. And he had to hurry, he couldn’t let Pintel go hungry.
Arijuna paused. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know what else humans ate apart from the creatures that they took from the sea. Could the island provide the rest? Also, he would need shelter. And what if the island was populated with more of his kind and he went with them, leaving Arijuna alone. What if he wasn’t there when he came back? No, he wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t worry about that. He’d get the fish and go back and Pintel would still be there.
And that is precisely what happened. Not that Pintel had stayed put. Preoccupied by the same things as Arijuna, he had gone off to explore the island. Not terribly far inland, he found a stream and some trees that bore fruit. As far as he could see, there was no sign of human inhabitants. Unlike Arijuna, Pintel did not consider this a good thing. He wanted to get back to civilization. The sloop wasn’t going to be looking for him and it was highly unlikely that another would just happen to stop by anytime soon. He might as well have been marooned. Although men were rarely marooned in places as nice as this one. And they certainly didn’t have mermen to accompany them. That last part still gave him trouble. But he wasn’t one of those who denied what they had seen with their own eyes. He’d seen him, he’d felt him. He was as real as the sand beneath his feet.
He returned to shore just in time to meet Arijuna. Shortly after he’d arrived, Arijuna poked his head out of the water. He smiled when he saw Pintel and submerged to swim the rest of the way to shore. He had two large carmine colored fish in his arms, which he handed to Pintel so the current wouldn’t wash them away. Pintel recognized this kind; they were prized for their flavor. He placed them on dry sand far enough away so that the waves couldn’t get to them should the tide rise.
He was about to go search for firewood when he saw Arijuna trying to drag himself toward him. He was having a hard time at it, since he could only propel himself forward with his arms. Pintel walked over to him.
‘Here, let me help you,’ he said, leaning down.
Arijuna gazed up at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
‘Me help you,’ he said slowly in an accented voice.
‘Yes, I’ll help you, I’ll carry you.’
‘Help carry you.’
‘Yes.’
Pintel crouched, placed his hands on Arijuna’s shoulder and hip and gently tried to coax him to roll over. Arijuna grasped what he was trying to do and fell onto his back. Pintel slipped his arms underneath his body and lifted him. He was a little surprised at the weight; Arijuna was heavier than he looked. He felt the coolness of Arijuna’s bare skin through his shirt, but it quickly warmed to Pintel’s. He fit nicely in Pintel’s arms, his thin frame pressed comfortably to his body.
‘Help you,’ Arijuna repeated.
‘Yes, we’ve been through that already.’
‘You uara,’ Arijuna exclaimed, looking excited.
‘What?’ Pintel frowned at him.
‘Uara you. You uara.’
Pintel set him down beside the fish and thought about what he was saying. Arijuna had realized what ’you’ meant and was telling Pintel what it was in his language. Pintel tentatively pointed at Arijuna and said, ‘Uara.’ Arijuna nodded. He pointed at himself and said, ‘Daca‘, then at Pintel and said, ‘Uara.’ Pintel repeated the motions, replacing the words with ‘I’ and ‘you’. Arijuna then repeated them.
Well, Pintel thought, that’s four more words. Only two whole languages to go.
They didn’t learn each other’s entire language while they were on the island, but they did learn much. They named everything that they saw, each in their own language. Actions were harder to convey, as some could easily be confused for others. ‘Helping’ was mixed up with ‘carrying’ for a while, but eventually they got it straight. The hardest words were those for intangible things like ideas. How do you explain ‘is’ or ‘are’ or ‘frustrated’? There was much frustration, but on the whole they managed it as well as could be expected. And Pintel showed Arijuna things for which the merman had no name. Trees, fruit, fire, freshwater.
There was one place that Pintel had taken him to that was neither land nor ocean, but what he called a river, a long strip of water stretching through the green landscape. Its water was not like that of the sea; it had a different taste, sweet almost. Arijuna learned that this was the water that Pintel drank. He didn’t really understand why Pintel couldn’t drink ocean water, except that it contained something that this river water lacked. The river even had different kinds of fish, fish Arijuna had never seen before. They probably depend on this kind of water like Pintel does, he thought. None of them were particularly big, which made sense, since the water was not too deep. Arijuna couldn’t swim properly in it. Not that it kept him from immersing himself in it whenever Pintel brought him.
And the fruit was unlike anything he’d ever tasted. It was sweet, sour, bittersweet, soft enough to tear apart with his tongue or hard enough to try his teeth. His favorite was a hard, yellow-brown fruit roughly the size of his fist. Its pulp was yellow and was both sour and sweet. He asked Pintel what it was called, but he didn’t know, not having seen it before.
But of all these new wonders that delighted his senses, there was one that intrigued him most of all. Pintel’s legs. Pintel was amused by how fascinated Arijuna seemed to be with his legs. He often caught him looking at them, lips parted in curiosity, eyes alight with wonder. He remembered that expression. It was the same one that Arijuna had on his face when Pintel saw him on the sloop. He noticed with what careful attention Arijuna observed his legs. Arijuna watched every movement they made, from the long strides Pintel took to the slightest wiggle of a toe. Sometimes, one of his hands would reach out, almost of its own accord, and come within a mere inch of Pintel’s skin. But he never made contact; he always drew it back before he could do so. He did not dare. Pintel pondered this. Arijuna was more courteous than he, for he had not waited for consent when he touched his tail. And considering the manner in which he had stroked it, he would not have been surprised had Arijuna pushed him away and left him to fend for himself. But he hadn’t. Shouldn’t he allow him the same privilege? Besides, he had wondered about how those long fingered hands would feel on his skin.
Finally, at the end of an afternoon spent practicing their newly acquired languages, Pintel stretched out his legs to Arijuna and said, ‘Go on, touch them.’
Arijuna looked at him in disbelief, but soon a happy grin illuminated his lips. He shifted so that he was right in front of Pintel’s feet and he laid his hands on them. His initial touch was tentative, shy even. He skimmed the skin of his feet with the tips of his fingers, leaving cool patterns in their wake. They tickled the soles of his feet, yet Pintel did not smile but shivered instead. When Arijuna had traced every bit of skin in this fashion, he wrapped his hands around his feet, molding his hands to their contours. He paid careful attention to each toe, separating each from the rest and observing it individually. He stroked and flexed them with his fingers. His face was merely inches away. Pintel was struck by the way that Arijuna was looking at him, as if he were the wondrous being here, he who was worthy of awe and amazement. Pintel had never been the subject of such scrutiny before. He was no more noteworthy than the average sailor. It’s because I’m human, he thought. He’s not had the chance to see one of us up close and he’s curious, is all. But something in the manner in which Arijuna touched him and the memory of his expression on the ship told him that it was he Arijuna was interested in and he alone.
Arijuna started up Pintel’s legs. He felt the bony ridges of his ankles and the tendons that ran up from his heels. His hands slowly glided up his calves; he stopped to gently squeeze the firm muscle. His actions grew bolder as he reached the edge of Pintel’s breeches at his knees. Instead of stopping there, he slipped his hands beneath the cloth as far as he was able, which was only up to mid-thigh. Pintel’s breath caught as Arijuna abandoned this route and stroked him through his breeches. One hand ran up his inner thigh, coming ever closer to his groin. Pintel thought of stopping him, his hand even reached up to do it, but it stilled in mid air. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to stop Arijuna.
In any case, there was no need. Arijuna suddenly realized what he was about to do and stopped before he went any further. He glanced at Pintel with a mixture of panic, embarrassment, and apology and quickly looked away. Pintel felt the sudden urge to pull him forward and kiss that panic right off his face. It wasn’t the first time he’d had the desire to do so. A man of his likes could not be expected to not think about it when alone for weeks with a creature as lovely as Arijuna. But if he’d been interested only in a momentary pleasure, he would act and take it when he could. But he didn’t act. They just sat there in an awkward silence, neither looking at the other.
The silence was broken when Arijuna rolled onto his back and said, ‘Carry me to water?’
Pintel pushed his muddled thoughts aside and picked him up. It was routine now for Pintel to carry Arijuna about the land, but Arijuna’s familiar weight felt especially heavy this time. Arijuna’s eyes were inches from his, but his gaze was fixed on the rosy horizon.
He gently placed him in the shallow water. Before Arijuna could slip away, Pintel grasped his arm. Arijuna looked up at him expectantly.
‘Good night,’ Pintel said softly.
The corners of Arijuna’s lips quirked up in a small smile.
‘Good night,’ he answered and swam off into the darkened water.
Pintel stood at the shore watching the water until the last glimmer of sunlight had faded away.