At World's Beginning

Here, There Be Mermaids

35 Years Previous

In the Year of Our Lord 1694

The last thing Second Mate Franklin Sharp had expected from the day's events was for the Intrepid to find itself a prisoner—and a woman at that.

It was the morrow after their harrowing survival of a terrible storm, one which Franklin had been sure would be their end. But they had survived, managed to keep all their masts, and had had a few hours rest before the lookout had shouted, "Man overboard!"

The sky was a pretty pale blue and the winds good and true, so there should be no reason for any man to be overboard. Waves lapped gently at the hull of the Intrepid, tamed after its turbulent wrath the night previous.

Captain Ulysses stood in front of the gunwale next to Franklin, extending his spyglass to verify what the lookout had spotted.

So, not a man overboard, then—a man adrift at sea. How anyone could have survived the storm puzzled Franklin, but even he could see with his naked eye a pale form huddled on an outcrop near the straits they had come upon.

"Take two men and check for survivors," the captain spoke in a weathered voice, never moving his gaze from the rocks ahead. Franklin acknowledged his orders and grabbed Mako and Rochester, two Jack-tars who he could depend on in times of trouble. Not that Franklin expected there to be any trouble, and least... not until their longboat drew closer to the cluster of rocks. And It wasn't the rocky waves as they drew closer to the outcropping that rattled him.

"'s a woman!" Rochester exclaimed in a voice somehow filled with both unease and awe.

"Aye, Roch, I know a woman when I spot one," Franklin said with impatience. For clearly it was woman, fainted away and marooned on the rocks.

"Sure 'bout that?" Rochester responded, a smirk painted across his face. "The peach fuzz on yer face says otherwise."

"Move us closer so I can see if she's still amongst the living," Franklin ordered, ignoring the jab. People always underestimated him for his youth and he'd grown a thick skin because of it. Besides, it was better to be underestimated. Folks who didn't take him seriously were the easiest to surpass and push aside in his quest of ambition.

However, in this situation, Franklin's youth might very well work against him. Seamen tended to become particularly stupid where women were concerned, and any question to his authority might turn a tenuous situation into a terrible one. He wasn't sure which was preferable—for the woman to be alive or dead, considering what might await her back on the ship.

And there was the matter of the ferocity of the storm. It was unlike anything Franklin had seen before—all different colored lightning, rain that flew sideways in angry streaks, and even a squall that descended from the clouds and gave them all a scare when it ventured close to their ship.

Franklin grew more and more disquieted. The woman was as naked as the day she was born, with yellow hair and skin pale and free of blemishes. In fact, it was only now beginning to turn pink from exposure to the merciless sun. This was not the complexion of a woman who was at sea, or one that even ventured out into the sunlight.

What was more alarming than that was, from what he could see from her curled position, she was completely unharmed.

Franklin reached a hand out to steady himself against the outcropping as he tested the integrity of the rock. It bore his weight and so he began to climb, and saw from only a few feet away that her cheeks were rosy with life. He waved the nearby seagulls away, shouting, "Away, buzzards! No free meals for you here today!"