Fisherman’s Friend

A contract that spans generations

There was no way my old man was going to let me goof off over the Summer while I was waiting to start college. His military background wouldn’t permit me to waste time catching up on the latest XBox games. No, he was looking for something character-forming or economically productive, or preferably both.

So he introduced me to Terry, the crabby old guy who ran one of the last fishing boats out of the harbour. Terry needed crew. Even with the addition of me he was running lean, with only man-mountain Brett to help him out. I was half Brett’s age and size, but wiry enough for Terry to be convinced that I could help haul in the nets.

He was trawling for “speciality” seafood far outside the bay, in the deeper waters off the Sound, to service the best restaurants on the shoreline. He would only put out once or twice a week, but we could be gone for a couple of days each time. I quickly got into the swing of things, and Brett and I developed a solid routine for working together. Largely by sign language, as Brett was very sparing in his utterances. Terry meanwhile never left the cabin, keeping his eyes focused on the seas ahead.

I thought at first the net had got snagged, so difficult was it proving to haul it in. Brett lent a hand and the cause soon became clear. A small dolphin, or shark maybe, about the length of a ten-year-old boy, trapped in the netting.

When it came over the side Brett stepped backwards and let out a piercing whistle towards the cabin.

I stepped forward for a better look, as this was nothing I had ever seen before.

Scales and fins, certainly, but also what looked like limbs tucked in under the fins. Could they be hands or claws I saw on the end of those spindly arms?

I flipped the creature over for a better look and my breath stopped. The eyes were not arranged on either side of the head, but facing forward on a flattened face that looked almost human.

Now I understood in a flash those long-discounted stories of mermaids in the bay. Of course! They didn’t have human upper bodies and fishy tails. Rather they were a mixture of human and sealife features from top to toe.

As a child of my time, I didn’t pause for more than a second before reaching for my phone. My Instagram account was going to blow up. I had a heady vision of a million views and climbing.

The creature, in the meantime, was not thrashing about or trying to escape the net. Rather, its golden eyes were observing me with inquisitive interest, but no trace of fear, as though this encounter were the most natural thing in the world.

My phone was plucked from my grasp before I took a single snap. Terry silently pocketed it, before kneeling down and starting to untangle the creature from the net, with infinite patience. When this was done, Terry and Brett gently lifted her (I had already decided on her gender) and lowered her over the side where she slid untroubled into the water.

Terry went back to the cabin and Brett tried to hide a broad grin, while they both ignored my requests for explanation.

Only once we were back in harbour did Terry pull me aside and return the phone.

“You saw nothing out there, and I’d thank you not to put any stories about. Our business isn’t much to start with, but marine biologists poking about the Sound would kill it off for good. If it’s any comfort, you can consider yourself a proper sailor now.

My grandfather told me the same thing fifty years ago. He said there was an understanding of sorts with their kind. We don’t bring them any trouble, and in return, well I hope it never happens to you, but sometimes a fisherman can use a friend in the water.”

Many thanks for reading!

More slightly speculative fiction below.