He rose to confront the stupefied siblings. They saw he was huge, a head above Tauno, so broad and thick that he seemed squat. Hair and beard grew sleek over his head, gray in color, as was the woolliness which everywhere covered his otherwise naked form. The skin beneath was pale. He reeked of fish. His face was hideous, save for the eyes—Iow and cragged of brow, flat of nose, gape-mouthed, the heavy jaw chinless. Those eyes, though, shone between lashes a queen might envy: big, softly golden brown, without whites: unhuman. .
Tauno had clapped hand to knife. Stiffly, he let go the hilt and raised his arm. “Welcome, if you come in friendship,” he said in the Liri tongue.
The stranger answered with a deep, barking tone but with mortal words. “Dolphins tauld that wha’ drew me. Could be a woman here, to reck by their chatter. You’re no true woman or man, from your smell, nor true merfolk, from your looks. Wha’, then, and who?”
The speech he used was intelligible, akin to Danish. Norse settlers had come to the islands off Scotland in Viking times; most of those places remained under the Norse crown; the tongue of the ancestors lived on in a western version, side by side with Gaelic.
“We’re in sharp need,” Eyjan said. “Can you help us?”
The reply cut straight through every storm-noise: “Maybe, if I will. Small mercy ha’ I known for mysel’. Ha’ ye more aboard?”
“Yes.” Tauno lifted the nearest hatch and shouted a summons to Niels and Ingeborg, who slept.
They scrambled up within heartbeats, alarm stretching their countenances. When they saw the newcomer, they halted, drew breath, unthinkingly linked hands.
The were-seal’s glance fell on Ingeborg and stayed. Step by step, he crossed the deck toward her. She and Niels stood fast, apart from their struggle not to fall. She paled and the youth stiffened as his hairy fingers, with nails like claws, reached forth to stroke her cheek. The mark of desire rose before them.
And yet he was gentle, merely touched her, joined gazes only while his lips trembled upward in shyness. Thereupon he turned back to the siblings and said, “Aye, I’ll help, for her sake. Thank this lady, the three 0’ ye. Hoo could I let her droon?” Hauau, he named himself, and told that he dwelt on Sule Skerry. Few of his kind were left; maybe he was the last. (That was believable, since no one in Liri had ever heard of them.) From earliest days, men had hated the selkie race and hunted it down.
Hauau thought that might be because its members raided the nets of fishers, like their kin the true seals but with human skill and cunning. He was not sure, for he had been alone since he was a pup, with just a dim recollection of his mother and what she sang to him. He had escaped after men arrived in a boat, cornered her, and cut her apart. It seemed to him he had heard them calling on Odin; be that as it may, the thing happened long ago.
This came out in scattered words, as did the story of the travelers. Foremost was the toil of surviving. Herning could no more be let drift; lee shores were too close. Besides a stay snapped, with need for replacement, the mast was now badly cracked and must be reinforced. A pair of extra spars fetched from below, lashed tight, should serve. . . . ,
Hauau’s strength was enormous. He held Tauno and Niels on his shoulders while they worked on the pole. Without him, worn as they were, belike they could never have raised the yard and its sodden sail, nor hauled hard enough on the sheets to keep mastery. Forsooth, were he not there to do a triple share of pumping, the hull would have filled.
Still more astonishing was his seamanship. Having explained to his companions what each order he gave would mean, and drilled them in this, he took the helm when they saw surf rage upon clustered rocks. Battered, leaky, sluggish, the cog nonetheless came alive in his hands. It was very near, but they did claw off that trap, and the next and the next. They stayed afloat, they even won back sea room.
As if realizing it could not have them, the storm departed.
III
“Aye, well can I see ye harne,” Hauau growled. “But first we maun caulk, sprung as this old tub is, or she’ll nae last half the coorse.”
Bast for that purpose was stowed aboard. Ordinarily the ship would have been careened, but Tauno’s crew lacked the needful manpower, besides not daring to lie ashore. Worse than the alienness of Faerie folk, the gold would rouse murder against them. Siblings and selkie could work beneath the waterline, hammering fiber into manifold leaks. Best would have been to tar it on the outside. Since this was impossible, Ingeborg s~ed fire anew on the cooking hearth and kept hot a kettleful of pitch for Niels, who applied it inboard. After a pair of hard days, the task was done. Herning still required occasional pumping, her entire hull remained badly weakened, but Hauau deemed her close enough to seaworthy.
When his fellows had enjoyed a long sleep and broken their fast, he gathered them on deck. It was a quiet morning above mirror-bright water. Gulls cruised air which was blue, with a few clouds as white as their wings, and growing warm. On the horizon off the starboard bow lay a streak of solidity, Ireland.
Tauno and Eyjan sprawled their big fair bodies naked on the planks. Ingeborg was likewise unclad, her filthy raiment soaking overside at the end of a line. So was Niels’, but he kept a cloak tightly around himself, and would not sit. Whenever his glance touched the female forms, flame and snow chased each other through the down on his cheeks.
Hauau hulked in front of them, his hugeness grotesque athwart the day. The hoarse tones coughed from him: “I think we’d be rash tae try beating back aroon’ Scotland and across the North ISea. The vessel wants nursing every fathom o’ the way. Best we pass doon through the Irish Sea, aroon’ through the English Chan nel, and thence past Friesland tae Denmark. ’Tis nae doot a lengthier passage, but belike milder. Too, coasting, should worst come tae worst, we’ll know we can get the humans tae shore alive.”
“Can you pilot?” Tauno asked. “We’re none of us familiar with these parts.”
“Aye, that I can, and warn ye as well wha’ kinds 0’ ship tae steer clear 0’ when we spy their topmasts. The King 0’ England has captains wha’ be harder tae deal wi’ than pirates.”
Eyjan stirred. Her gaze upon the selkie grew intent. “You’ve saved us from wreck, you’ll bring us to haven,” she said low.
“What reward shall be yours?” Hauau’s chest swelled, he struggled to speak, it broke forth in a bellow: “Ingeborg!”
“What?” the woman cried. She raised knees in front of breasts, clutched them with her left arm, traced the Cross with a right hand that shook.
The were-seal half reached toward her. He also shivered. “Whilst we, we sail,” he stammered. “Only whilst we sail. I’ll be gentle, I promise. Och, ’tis been lang alane—”
She looked from him, to Tauno. The halfling’s face drew into bleak lines. “You’ve done too much for us that we should force you,” he said.
Silence grew while she stared at him.
Hauau stirred at last. His shoulders slumped. “Aye, grumly am I,” he mumbled. “I’d stay on anyhoo, but I couldna stand tae see-Farewell. I think ye can mak’ hame wi’oot me. Fare ever well.” He moved toward the rail.
Ingeborg sprang up. “No, wait,” she called, and ran to him. He stopped, agape. She took the great clawed hand in hers. “I’m sorry,” she said; her voice wavered and tears stood in her eyes. “I was just startled, do you understand? Of course I—”
He barked wild laughter and caught her in a bear hug. She wailed for pain. He let go. “Forgi’ me,” he begged. “I forgot. I’ll be gentle, I will.” .
Niels stepped forward, bleached about the nostrils. “No, Ingeborg, don’t,” he said. “We’ve sin aplenty on our souls—and you—”