2
The storm had been rough but nothing that Tom hadn’t seen before. His crew was experienced and took his orders without question, saving the ship a world of damage. It had lasted well through the night and his crew was exhausted. It wasn't often he allowed rest days, but he felt they'd earned it. So, under the bright clear sky, many of his men were lounging around, some playing cards, others choosing to stay below deck and sleep the day away. It was a calming atmosphere, the soft rocking of the ship pulling Tom into a light doze where he sat on the deck, a book held laxly in his hand.
“Tom!” A voice startled him awake. He glanced around at his crew, there weren't many that called him by his first name.
“Tom!” the voice cried again, and Tom followed it to the rail of the ship, where Little Singer waited in the water.
“My, my, don't you learn quickly?” He couldn't help the curl of pleasure at hearing the mer use his name. Little Singer whistled, evidently pleased with himself as well. There was something charming about the quality of Singer's voice, the creak of unpracticed vocal cords put to work.
The mer flicked his tail, splashing water up to Tom, who shielded his book against the spray. Catching the movement, Singer tilted his head, wet hair slipping into his face.
“It’s a book,” Tom supplied to Singer's curiosity. The mer squinted in confusion. “It tells a story. This one is about a gentleman who is taking a ferry home when it sinks, and he's picked up by a sealing ship. The captain of the ship is compared to a wolf throughout because of his ruthlessness and callousness,” Tom was sure Singer had no idea what he was talking about but the mer was providing his undivided attention. Tom offered a wry grin. “It's one of my favorites,”
Singer chirped as if in understanding and Tom chuckled.
“So, what is it you do with your time? Surely following my ship can't be your only past time,”
Singer reclined in the water, floating on his back and bringing his blood-red tail into view. Tom admired the sight, startled when he was splashed with salty water again. Singer grinned up at him, sharp canines on display, eyes mischievous.
“What are you up to, you imp?” Singer whistled a series of lilting notes, before floating backwards invitingly.
“Tom,” He added in a warm croak.
“Are you inviting me for a swim?” Tom laughed incredulously.
“Tom!” Singer chirped, flipping his tail encouragingly.
The water was calm after the storm, waves lightly lapping against the ship. The sun was high and warm. Tom had never been the strongest swimmer, but he was competent enough. He considered his britches and thin shirt.
“Swimming with a mermaid,” He muttered. “Why not?”
He nodded at Singer, “Alright you’ve convinced me.”
Singer seemed charmed by the movement, nodding back happily.
He whistled, a tone Tom was coming to understand as questioning when Tom walked away from the front of the ship and towards the side.
“You can't expect me to launch into the water,” Tom said, lowering a rope ladder over the port side. He could feel his crew's eyes on him watching curiously.
“Uh… Captain?” His chief mate, Barty Crouch Jr. called.
“Yes, Barty?”
Barty was a freckled lad only a few years younger than Tom. He joined Tom port side where Singer had gotten the hint and swam around to wait in the water.
“Are you really going to swim with it?” Barty watched the mer cautiously. Despite mermaids being good omens, they were still considered wild animals and were to be kept at arm's length.
“Honestly, Crouch, does he look like a vicious beast?”
Singer watched their exchange with an innocent smile, green eyes glowing in the sunshine. Barty sighed.
“No, sir I suppose not. But if you find yourself in any trouble I’ll be here,”
Tom clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good man. Wish me luck,” Tom stripped off his shirt despite the impropriety of the gesture and started down the ladder.
It was a windless day; Tom wasn't worried about the ship traveling far without him. The water was an instant relief as it reached his knees. He glanced back to see Singer swimming back and forth chirping excitedly. Tom huffed in amusement before pushing away from the ship and letting the water catch him.
Singer was there instantly, swimming circles around him like a shark but whistling like a dolphin.
“You’re like a child,” Tom teased, laughing.
“Tom!” Singer responded in his crow's voice.
“Yes, yes that's me,” He sunk back with a relaxed sigh, the salt keeping him afloat on his back. Singer inched closer peering at Tom. Up close the Mer was even more stunning. His skin was a golden tan and from this distance, Tom could see the dusting of red scales along his cheeks and shoulders. Singer seemed to be observing Tom right back, reaching out with a clawed finger to poke at Tom's ear. He noticed now that Singers' own ears were pointed like an elf with soft frills extending from the sides.
Uncaring of boundaries Singer reached out again to run a finger down Tom's neck where he was bereft of gills. The touch sent a shiver down the sailor's spine.
“I’m not quite as fishy, am I?”
Singer cocked his head to the side. Tom pointed to himself.
“Human,” He pointed to Singer. “Merman.”
Singer squinted, “Tom,” He pointed, copying Tom's movements. “Singer,”
Tom rolled his eyes but nodded. The creature was undeniably charming.
“Yes, but look.” He reached out his own hand to brush Singer's gills who squeaked in surprise. “Gills,” Tom returned his hand to his own neck. “No gills.”
Singer frowned, before tiring of the discussion and ducking below the water.
Tom tread in place looking around, the water was too dark to see much of anything.
Without warning a hand gripped his ankle and yanked him under the waves. He gasped a desperate breath before his head went under, squeezing his eyes shut against the salt.
His heart raced in his chest at the assault, but the hand left his ankle and held his face. He could feel the questioning whistle against his skin. The mers' language sounded different underwater, clearer, and softer. Tom forced his eyes open, the sting of salt immediate as he focused on Singer. The mer smiled when he met Tom's eyes, blowing a stream of water towards him. Tom's lungs were protesting already so he gestured again to his lack of gills.
The playful glint in Singer's eyes fled in understanding. He chirped, the sound lyrical in the water, before grabbing hold of Tom's hand and pulling him to the surface. Tom gasped air back into his lungs, rubbing water from his eyes with the hand not captured by Singer.
“Alright, Captain?” Barty's voice shouted from the ship, concern apparent.
“Quite alright,” Tom assured. Singer seemed unconcerned with the events, using Tom's hand to pull him in circles. His powerful tail barely moved for the simple maneuver.
“The men were ready to grab the harpoon when I told them you’d gone under,”
Tom scowled up at his second in command.
“Heavens no Barty. Pray don't speak of that again,”
Barty nodded but kept a watchful eye from the taffrail.
Singer seemed emboldened by Tom's willingness to be pulled around, tugging him closer. The mer's eyes caught on the long scar across Tom's chest tracing the old wound with a pointed nail. Goosebumps broke out along his skin as he explained.
“It’s a scar,” He pointed to a few more along his arms. “That one was from a sword, an unhappy captain got in a good cut when we boarded his ship. A scar is nothing compared to his fate,” Tom had executed the captain before his crew, chest pouring blood all the while. It’d been a bitch while healing as well.
“Scar.” Singer breathed and Tom grinned at his intelligence. The mer lifted his unruly, salt-curled locks from his forehead to display a scar of his own. It was nearly the size of Tom's thumb, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Singer lifted his hand into a claw and made a scratching motion, face twisted up in a scowl. He hissed and mimed scratching Tom's forehead. Tom couldn't help an amused smile at the theatrics.
“A fight, hm? With another mermaid?”
Singer seemed to consider this before nodding in the human manner he’d just learned.
“The sun is setting, captain! It’ll be dark soon,” Barty's voice made Tom roll his eyes.
“Good lord, Barty, if I didn't know better, I’d think you were playing nursemaid,” His tone wrought with annoyance. Tom was perfectly capable of handling himself; he’d hardly be a capable captain otherwise. But he could never be truly upset with Barty, they'd had only each other for years before they’d made it to where they are now.
“Mother’s calling,” Tom told Singer with good humor. Singer tilted his head, looking between Barty and Tom curiously. Tom took Singer's lead and attempted to mime in communication.
“The sun,” Tom pointed to the setting sun, the waters reflecting a molten orange. “Going down,” He lowered his hand before feigning sleep. “Bedtime.”
Singer flicked water in Tom's face unimpressed. Tom splashed back in annoyance. “You can't blame me for trying.”
The mer didn't need charades to get the gist, grabbing hold of Tom's hand once more as if it was completely natural, and pulling him back to his ship. Tom could have swum the distance but appreciated Singer's help, nonetheless.
“Thank you, Little Singer,” Tom offered, reaching for the rope ladder. Singer stopped him, drawing his attention.
Tom watched, intrigued as the mer placed an open palm over his own heart before placing it over Tom's. His hand was warm against Tom's bare chest.
“Goodbye,” Singer said, and Tom understood. He mimicked the movement, placing his hand first on his own chest and then on Singers.
“Goodbye, Singer.”
Little Singer grinned wide, the movement wrinkling his green eyes endearingly, before ducking below the waves.