What Shall It Profit a Man?

An irresistible fantasy.

A seagull pecked at the innards of a fresh young mackerel and Gerhard’s stomach growled. Hunger overtook him that late morning on the docks as he searched for work, the fat bird a reminder nature would subsist through instinct; man, however, must toil by his wits for every meal. He resisted the temptation to intervene, to kick the seagull away and steal the fish. A captain would never hire a hand who invited such a bad omen. Desperation bred stupidity, unattractive qualities, neither of which would help feed his wife and children.

In a fortnight, Gerhard had found one job as a deck hand, providing barely enough pay to purchase a few days’ worth of food. He knew of other work that paid better but came at great risk of hanging or a dagger in the belly. His wife warned him to stay on the narrow path, since he was no good to anyone dead. He heeded her warning. In disagreement his stomach growled even louder. Starvation was no more appealing than death.

“Aye, Gerhard, I can see your ribs under your waistcoat,” a man named Tobias said. A patchwork of red beard grew around his cheeks and chin, dirty and mangy. Gerhard and Tobias had served on several merchant ships together over the years, progressing from acquaintances into a solid brotherhood, a friendship of opposites that suited them well. Gerhard’s wife thought otherwise.

“Tempt me all you want with talk of a full season’s pay in a single night, I’ll not break the law,” Gerhard said.

“I’m offended at the presumption, old friend. I bring another offer, two days honest work on a fishing vessel,” Tobias said.

“Two days won’t carry a boat beyond the outer banks and that’s been overfished according to my sources, so what are you on about?” Gerhard asked.

“It’s not the outer banks we fish. We’re headed through the straights,” Tobias said.

Gerhard thought he misheard, or that he would soon catch Tobias bellowing with laughter. To be ridiculed with absurd proclamations upset him, no less while his family were forced to consume stale bread and water for dinner. The slow patter of rain and constant smell of stagnant seawater intensified his irritability.

“You mock me. No captain with all his faculties would chance it through the straights. If you can navigate the shoals without capsizing, you’ll soon be dragged overboard, pulled down into the depths by... something else.” Gerhard said.

“Yes, those temptresses, those ravenous, sinewed beauties, would lure us into their naked grip, the moment we’re seduced by their harmonious voices. For the average man, unprotected, urges left unchecked, that would be his fate. My employer has a defense to guard our ears and our hearts, and is in need of another crew member,” Tobias said.

“You lie,” Gerhard said.

“There’s no harm in hearing all the details. Say your goodbyes to kin and meet me outside the Breakwater Tavern, ready for departure. If I can’t convince you, then you can go back to swabbing decks.”

Gerhard needed little convincing beyond the sack of coins, to be doubled on return with a full hold of fish. Tobias failed to mention he would captain the ship, and while stalwart and capable, Gerhard feared his old friend had been offered the position because no other man was brave or dumb enough. Two more young sailors, Brom and Meurig, desperate to prove their worth, joined the skeleton crew, but they were inexperienced and often clumsy.

The clear night’s sky, full of stars, and the gentle rocking of the small ship eased Gerhard’s mind, which had been active with imaginative, disastrous outcomes. In calmer waters Tobias could pilot the vessel with expert precision, taking every precaution through the straights. If by morning greener skies prevailed, warning of oncoming storms, the lot of them would be capsized for sure.

“Did you ever think we would make captain and helmsman?” Tobias asked.

“I’ll settle for a full stomach and healthy children,” Gerhard said.

“And what of your wife? What does she think of our escapade, our exposure to fiendish maidens?” Tobias asked. His question was met with uncomfortable silence, thicker than dense fog rising off shallow waters.

“You wonder why I never settled,” Tobias said.

“A wise husband knows when to keep his mouth shut. This plan of yours best land us home safely,” Gerhard said.

“Our employer ensures me the wax mixed with sand from the bottom of the shoals will repel all sound.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious how he knows this will work?”

“No man would risk a ship and half our wages if he thought otherwise. His deposit is our security. Go and rest in the quarters until daybreak. I’ll need you alert to navigate at first light.”

Gerhard slept deep and peaceful for a brief period, but visions of catastrophe eventually overwhelmed his subconscious. He tossed in the swaying hammock, a slick sweat forming across his head and body as nightmares threatened to reach through the dreamworld and suck the life from his lungs. He envisioned beautiful creatures swimming the ocean, their skin reflecting sunlight while moving across the surface. Serenity turned to dread when day turned to night and the moon washed over blood red. Gerhard found himself transported, adrift at sea, no raft or ship to offer salvation, those creatures encircling him, closer with every rotation — no longer beautiful. At last, a melancholy song echoed from below and many hands dragged him under.

“Gerhard! Wake up, the day is dawning,” Tobias said.

Gerhard startled awake, drenched in sweat, ready to turn back toward the safety of home and into the loving arms of his wife and children.

“We shouldn’t go forward with this, Tobias, I’ve had a nightmare, a terrible warning,” Gerhard said.

“Never mind that. You’re not the only one who slept uneasy. The shoals crept up too quickly and I need your assistance,” Tobias said.

Gerhard joined Tobias on the deck, only to find Brom and Meurig wary, carrying on their duties with an anxious eye on the water. Long sheets of flat black rocks, slick and difficult to spot, glistened near the surface, while others stood as stubborn buoys ready to breach through and smash the bow into pieces. The sun reached over the horizon and layered a blanket of oppressive heat on top of them.

“Port! To port!” Gerhard shouted as he hurried to the bow. Tobias turned the wheel and the men stood at attention, ready to brace the yards. With little wind, they relied almost entirely on the position of the rudder, a risky maneuver in the shoals.

The men acted on command and with Gerhard’s directions worked in perfect synchronicity. The ship followed a winding course around each obstruction then settled again on open waters toward towering cliff walls and a narrow passage — the straights. Upon witnessing the approaching entrance, Tobias fled to the quarters, eventually emerging with a small wooden box. He opened it to reveal the waxy substance to stuff their ears.

“Every one of you, now, a thimble full for each ear, don’t hesitate. We won’t be able to hear instructions, so you’ll need to watch for my signals,” Tobias said.

All the men did as instructed. Tobias returned the box.

Gerhard shifted between port and starboard sides, examining the water, anxious to make their way through the straights and out of harm’s way. The slosh of waves against the ship, the seagulls riding high above the cliffs voicing warnings, all the world went silent. Sweat trickled down Gerhard’s brow and wet his undershirt. Salty warmth penetrated through the pores of his skin and rested on his lips. The only relief came when a cold dread washed over him at the sight of ripples near the water’s edge.

Gerhard felt a pounding below his feet, the impossible vibrations of a large sea creature, perhaps. Tobias continued to stomp on the deck, a signal to his friend, who pointed at Brom, leaning over the edge of the port side. A small bead of wax trickled down Brom’s neck, melting in the morning sun, unnoticed until a song wedged into his ear, poisoning his heart, leaving him mesmerized by the black-haired beauty now holding his gaze.

Before Gerhard could pull Brom back, the siren wrapped her callous, scaled arms around him and gave him a kiss, the final coaxing he needed to jump overboard, charmed by sweet lyrics and a foul attraction. A mix of hair and fins swirled near a grouping of bubbles, each pop releasing the last remnants of a dying man’s breath.

Meurig backed away from his dead mate, eyes wide and attention lacking. He gripped the rails near the stern, fright causing him to lose all his faculties. The searing heat caused a portion of wax to drop from his ear, but in his state of shock he failed to notice. Pale, greenish gray arms slid around his torso and red lips whispered a gentle lullaby. Gerhard rushed to the man’s rescue and grabbed him by the waist before he could be seized. The strength of the siren was surprising, her power matched only by her song. Fingers lengthened into razor sharp claws, which she used to slice deep into Gerhard’s forearm. He recoiled and her face contorted into a villainous smile with white pointed rows of teeth. The feminine savage dragged her prey below.

Gerhard ran into the quarters and opened the box of wax, grabbing wads and stuffing his ears until he felt the pain of resistant ear drums. He circled back to his friend, who gripped the wheel so tight that his fingers turned white, when at last they loosened their grip and slipped slowly down to his sides. Tobias walked toward the bow where several sirens leaned over the rail, a gorgeous a cappella trio serenading a fool euphoric with promises of unimaginable delights.

Gerhard tackled Tobias to the deck, trying desperately to drag him back to safety, to ply him with fresh wax, drowning out the dirge escaping the siren’s lips. So desperate was Tobias to enter their embrace that he pulled a dagger on Gerhard, ignoring the sensible pleas of the only man capable of resisting. A single swipe cut through Gerhard’s arm, and in that moment, he recognized the irresistible yearning Tobias had to unite with those mistresses down in the infinite darkness.

Gerhard grabbed the helm as the sirens placed their hands on Tobias, wooing the man with strange, primordial sounds. When Tobias was gone, Gerhard turned the ship around and prayed for an unseen guiding hand back through the shoals. The same arm where Tobias had cut him and where the siren had sunk in her claws, stiffened and turned a recognizable pale greenish gray, scaly and useless. He willed himself to return alive with his good arm, to warn other men who dared risk the straights and to one day warn his own son that the best way to conquer temptation is to avoid it altogether.