The Fisherman's Son (Grimm Prequel #19) Read online

  “You do?”

  “We do,” she whispered. “Do you want to know, Jim?”

  “I do.”

  “Then come closer.”

  I took another step.

  “Closer.”

  Then another.

  “Not close enough.”

  My feet dragged me toward her, although I knew I’d regret it. I reached a point where she was an arm’s length away. A place where the moon lit her face. What a beautiful girl she was.

  “Look at you,” she said. “A young brave boy who has no idea who he is, or what he’s destined to do.”

  I didn’t quite understand, but didn’t have the guts to speak. I hadn’t seen such a beautiful girl before.

  “We will take care of you,” she said.

  “We?”

  A number of other mermaids rose from beneath the sea. All as beautiful as her.

  “Who are you?” I said again.

  “I told you. We’re the mermaids who’re going to guide you on your journey.”

  “To Treasure Island?” I know I sounded eager.

  They snickered. “If you want to call it that.”

  “It’s not called Treasure Island?”

  “That’s one of its names. It’s known by another, and more important name,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter now. What matters is how your father died.”

  “Was it a whale?”

  “Far from it.”

  “Did he drown in the sea?”

  “We wish that were true.”

  “Then who killed my father?” I fisted a hand.

  “The real question is: what are you going to do about it if we tell you?”

  “I will…” I fisted the other hand.

  “Kill him?” the mermaid snickered.

  I shrugged. The thought had never crossed my mind before. All I cared about was to know who killed my father. It never occurred to me what I was going to do about it. “Just tell me who.”

  “What’s the point of knowing, if you’re not going to do anything about it?”

  “What do you suggest I do?” I found myself asking.

  “Slit his throat, maybe?” she snickered.

  “Hang him from a noose,” another one said behind her.

  “Or maybe,” a third said. “stab him with that knife your father gave you.”

  I found myself grabbing for the knife, the only thing my old man ever bothered giving me.

  “Maybe he knew,” the mermaid in the front suggested. “He knew he’d get killed and wanted you to avenge him.”

  “Are you saying the knife is a clue?”

  “Why else would he give it to you?”

  I didn’t know what to say but, “Who killed my father?” I tensed.

  This made the mermaids laugh in unison. One of them summersaulted in the sea, feeling festive about my anger.

  “What is this?” I said. “Why are you happy I’m angry?”

  “Anger is beautiful,” they said. “Anger propels one to achieve things.”

  “I’m leaving,” I said, hoping I was hallucinating them. A tickle of evil had started to rise in me, and I didn’t like it.

  “No. Wait.”

  “What now?” I turned back.

  “We’ll tell you who killed your father, and how to kill him, only if you do something for us.”

  Now things made sense. My mother had always told me that nothing on the Seven Seas was free. That everything had a price. And I was dying to know what happened to my father.

  “What do you want?”

  “The one-legged man.” Their tone darkened.

  “Captain Ahab?”

  “Or Long John Silver, whatever his real name is.”

  “What about him?”

  “We want him,” the mermaids hummed as if in an unholy prayer. “We want the man with the one leg.”

  “Why?” I squinted. Curious.

  “Because she wants him,” a mermaid in the back said. “She who will rule the world.”

  “Shhh,” the mermaid in front stopped her. “He doesn’t need to know that much,” she turned back to me. “Listen, Jim. We love you. You must know that.”

  I stepped back. “I don’t believe you. How am I supposed to give you Captain Ahab? He is a big man.”

  They laughed. “You don’t need to bring him, Jim. Just bring us his pipe.”

  “Pipe?”

  “Yes, the one he smokes day and night. The one he sometimes plays music with.”

  I had seen him use this pipe occasionally. I’d also heard sailors say it produced melodies as much as smoke. “Is that all you want?”

  “That’s it,” the mermaid said. “But don’t think it’s easy. A big whale tried to take this pipe from him and couldn’t.”

  “Is that the whale who took his leg?”

  “That’s the one, Jim. It failed to take the pipe, but not his leg,” she laughed again.

  “Why is this pipe important?”

  “It makes beautiful melodies,” she said. “And as you can see, we’re all about melodies. We sing while swimming in the sea. Men can’t resist our songs, and once they’re tempted, we appear to them. We’re so beautiful we bring tears to their eyes, and then, once they approach us, we…”

  “Eat them.” I said, stepping back. “But you haven’t tried to eat me. Why?”

  “Because you’re important, Jim. So important you don’t know it.”

  “Everyone says that. Is that because I found the treasure map?”

  “No, Jim. You were destined to find the treasure anyways,” she said. “You’re going to be the most famous boy in the world. Captain Ahab knows this. That’s why he took you on board. Don’t trust him.”

  It made sense. Everyone warned me of him.

  “I need to know more about the pipe,” I demanded, out of curiosity.

  “It once belonged to a God named Pan,” she said. “He used it to build a world, woven out of melodies, but someone stole the pipe from him.”

  “Captain Ahab?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if I bring it to you, you will tell me who killed my father?”

  “Promise.”

  I didn’t much believe them, but the possibility of knowing who killed my father drove me mad. I left them, promising I would do it. I was going to get the pipe from Captain Ahab.

  ***

  Spying on Ahab wasn’t as hard as I thought. I was the youngest boy on the ship, and practically useless. No one paid attention to me. I didn’t find it hard to hide and follow him around without anyone seeing me. I even hid in a closest inside his room and overheard a conversation between him and Captain Smolett, one of his men.

  “Are we close?” Captain Ahab asked, smoking his pipe.

  “No. We’re still lost at sea,” Smolett said. “The map is deluding us. We’re not sure we’re reading it properly.”

  “Are you saying Billy Bones tampered with it?”

  “I think there is some kind of code we can’t read. The X-marks-the-spot isn’t right.”

  “Explain yourself, Smolett.” Ahab didn’t sound as friendly as I knew him to be before.

  “The X is meant to send us nowhere, to a place where no island exists,” Smolett explained. “I sent my men in a smaller boat to the destination. They found nothing.”

  “So the map is false?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s just that we’re not reading it the way it’s supposed to be read.”

  Ahab stared at the map with intent. “Do you think the boy knows?”

  “Jim?”

  “You know that’s not his real name,” Ahab said. “Just call him ‘the boy’ now.”

  I was about to throttle out of the closest and ask him what he meant. How was Jim not my real name?

  “I don’t think the boy knows,” Smolett said. “He doesn’t look bright to me.”

  Now I was going to burst out and kick this Smolett in the groin. But I kept calm, gritting my teeth. I needed the pipe to know about my father. I didn't care
much about the treasure anymore.

  “That’s what puzzles me about him,” Ahab said. “If he is who I think he is, how come he is so naive?”

  Even Ahab thought I wasn’t bright? I realized I was disappointed. I realized I had begun to like Ahab.

  “Maybe it’s not him,” Smolett said.

  “I know it’s him,” Ahab said. “I know he is our key to the island. Maybe we should give him time to examine the map. Billy Bones may have left a clue, one that only the boy can read.”

  I fumbled with the idea in my head. Did Billy Bones hint to something unusual about the map? I don’t remember him telling me about how to read the map.

  “I will take care of it,” Ahab said. “Let me talk with the boy.”

  “I hope you do, or we’ll lose the treasure,” Smolett said. “This sack means the world to your men outside.”

  Sack?

  “I know,” Ahab puffed his pipe. “But why are you sure it’s a sack?”

  “Legends says it is,” Smolett said. “A sack with seven items that are as precious as the sun and moon combined.”

  “It’s just a myth, Smolett,” Ahab said. “I’d prefer the treasure to be pearls – that, we can sell.”

  “Believe what you want. It’s the quest we all have to take that matters.”

  “Of course,” Ahab nodded. “Now get back to your men, and don’t forget to remind them of Moby Dick. I know we’re here for the treasure. But whoever helps me kill this whale will have my share of the treasure.”

  “Understood,” Smolett said on his way out. Then he stopped. “Why is it so important you kill that whale, Ahab. You still have your pipe.”

  “The whale still has my leg,” Ahab said. “I’m not used to being taken from. I will always hunt you and kill you and drink your blood from a boot if you dare take anything from me.”

  I shrugged, so loud I risked being exposed.

  Smolett left, and then Ahab went to sleep, leaving the pipe on the table. It was my only chance.

  I will always hunt you and kill you and drink your blood from a boot if you dare take anything from me.

  How assuring!

  I waited until Ahab slept. But then I was too scared to reach for the pipe, although it was only strides away. To be play it safe, I waited until Ahab began snoring. That's when people were in deep sleep, right? Or was it that he just had breathing problems? My mother once told me about a demon called Snore who was short and stocky but extremely heavy. Snore sat on people's chests while they slept. It was the reason why people snored.

  So, I couldn't bring myself to reach for the pipe. I had to wait until Ahab turned and faced the other way. That was when I felt I could do it.

  Slowly I pushed open the closet’s door and tiptoed into the room. Ahab wheezed out a loud snore all of a sudden.

  I had to stop in an awkward position, one foot off the ground and one hand almost reaching for the pipe. I looked like a Greek statue, only with worried eyes looking sideways.

  Ahab's snores slowly diminished to rugged waves of breathing.

  Carefully, I stepped down and reached for the pipe. It was heavier than it looked. I tucked it in my pocket. All I needed was to leave the room out of the open window and go find the mermaids.

  "Why not use the door?" came the voice behind me.

  I stopped. Not turning around, reminding myself of Ahab's words about being unforgiving about betrayal.

  "I—" I was thinking of an explanation.

  "Needed the pipe to practice your musical talents?" Ahab said. I could hear the bed creak underneath him. He was coming for me. "Relax boy. I won't hurt you."

  This made me turn around. The big man sat on a chair next to the table, pouring himself a drink.

  "Really?" I grimaced.

  "Come over here," he said. "Have a drink with me."

  "I'm too young for drinking, sir."

  Ahab shot me a look and gulped down his whiskey. "You really have no idea who you are, do you?"

  I wondered why he asked me that. The mermaid had mentioned a similar statement. "I know who I am, sir. I am Jim Hawkins. My father is Admiral Benbow. He died trying to find a fish."

  "All of this is true," Ahab laughed. The things that hung on the walls shook again. "But only until we reached the island."

  "Treasure Island? Why? What happens on the island?"

  "The island is a scary place, Jim." Ahab said. "Not only does it contain a treasure, but it has the power to change us."

  "Change us how?"

  "That's what no one knows for sure."

  "But you said I will have a different name there."

  "You will."

  "How do you know that?"

  "A woman who lives in a high tower amidst the sea."

  "How is there a tower amidst the sea?"

  "You talk too much, Jim," Ahab stood up. I immediately realized his connection to Billy Bones and Black Dog. The one-legged man they both feared. But it puzzled me why he was so nice to me. "Come closer. Sit. I'm only joking."

  I did. Reluctantly. Still clinging to his pipe in my hand. "What will be my name on the island, and how do you know I will have a different name?"

  "It's an old prophecy," he said. "Could be wrong though."

  "You seem to believe it."

  "I do, Jim," he tapped his glass. "I do."

  "Why do you believe in it?"

  "Because I believe in the treasure on the island," he leaned forward. "And part of the prophecy dictates that only you Jim, can find it."

  "Me?"

  "The prophecy said that an orphan boy who lives with his mother in an Inn on a far away island will be given the map to the treasure. And here you are, Jim. The boy must be you."

  I didn't know what to say. It explained why others told me the same thing back on the island. It explains why mother didn't want me to leave. But to be honest, I've felt attached to this journey from day one. It felt like my destiny. I couldn't explain why.

  "What else did the prophecy say about me?" I asked.

  This is when I saw the powerful captain Ahab shrug, like I have never seen him before. He tapped his glass, evading my eyes. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me why you took the pipe."

  Even though I hadn’t planned on telling him earlier, I began speaking. Something about Ahab made me do it. "The mermaids told me to."

  Ahab smiled.

  "Why are you smiling?"

  "At the fact that the mermaids didn't eat you already. It proves you're the special one."

  "Aren't you going to ask me why I agreed on doing it?"

  "I know, Jim. You want to know who killed your father."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because I know how the mermaids think."

  "So are they telling the truth?"

  "There is nothing so mysterious about your father’s death. Even the sailors on this ship know who killed your father."

  I furrowed my eyebrows for the lack of words.

  "You see, Jim. The man who killed your father is vicious and feared. That's why no one dared to tell you. They don't want to have anything to do with him."

  "How vicious?"

  "He believes he has the right to kill who he likes, and spare who he dislikes."

  "Is it you?" I rapped a hand on the table.

  Ahab laughed again, my hand shaking on the table. "No it's not me, Jim."

  I sat down, not sure if I believed him. "So why do the mermaids want your pipe?"

  "The pipe of Pan is a precious thing," he said. "But the mermaids want it because they want to kill me with it."

  "How so?"

  "There is a certain song that, only if played on my pipe, will kill me."

  I stared at the pipe in my hands, and realized I may have the instrument to kill him if he killed my father.

  "Don't bother, Jim. You don't know the melody," he tapped his wooden leg on the floor.

  "Why do the mermaids want you dead?"

  "Moby Dick sent them."

  "The wha
le?"

  He nodded. "He wants to kill me before I kill him. And the mermaids love chaos and blood anyways."

  The world in the Seven Seas seemed complicated to me. Back home all we cared about was the salt and bread we put on the table by the end of the day.

  "So what now?" I said.

  "Now you have a choice, Jim," he said. "Either give the pipe to the mermaids, or take my side against them. Either way I will tell you who killed your father right now."

  "But I don't even need you to tell me now. I could ask any of the sailors about my father's killer."

  "No one will tell you but me. They're too scared, remember?"

  I had to think it over. Who did I trust, the mermaids or captain Ahab? It seemed like I couldn't trust any of them.

  But Ahab needed me for the treasure, so he was going to tell me. Slowly, I handed him his pipe back.

  "Thank you, Jim," he put his drink away and began to smoke the pipe. "You don't know what it means to me."

  "Now tell me who killed my father."

  "A man who thinks he is Fate, killing people and sparing others left and right."

  "His name?"

  "Captain Hook."

  "Where can I find him?"

  "Why do you want to find him?"

  "I will kill him." I grabbed my knife. A strange lust for blood was growing inside my thirteen-year-old soul.

  Ahab looked impressed. He brushed his beard with his hand. "You can't kill Fate, Jim."

  "You said he thinks he is Fate."

  "But he has proven nothing but being Fate itself so far. It’s puzzling, I know."

  "Are you saying I can't avenge my father?"

  "I said you can't kill Fate. I didn't say you can't use him.”

  Ahab smiled, evil shaping the features of his face. I smiled back, evil crawling under my skin.

  ***

  Ahab’s offer was a devious one for a thirteen-year-old. Right now, I can openly describe it as my first step into evil doing — something I cured myself from years later, but after I’d caused a lot of damage.

  What happened was that I went back to the mermaids. I waited by the barrel of apples until they began to sing again. Slowly they appeared to me.

  “Did you get it Jim?” the mermaid said.

  “I have it,” I said, biting on a blood apple. “But I want something in return.”