The Mariner

“Only one crew member?” Absinth was amazed. That couldn’t be true! How on earth did he sail such an enormous ship? “Then I should come with you. I’m good at putting a crew together. Several places to recruit from. You supply the ship, I’ll supply the men. How does that sound?”

“I’d be glad,” the Mariner lied, thinking to himself that he’d rather have no more crew than two. A soft pattering of feet announced their third. “I want you to meet my friend. Grace.”

The devil edged in, looking about the room for a possible trap. Her snout was doing the most work and she let out a snarl when she found the old man’s scent,

Absinth leaped to his feet with a jolt, backing away.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Isabel said she’s a tazzy devil.”

“I can see it’s a Tasmanian devil, I mean what the fuck’s it doin’ here?”

The Mariner looked from devil to the man and back again. “I told you. She’s my crew.”

Absinth shook his head. “I’m not boarding your ship with one of those things. Can’t fucking stand dogs. Leave it ‘ere.”

Grace’s brown eyes turned up as if to ask the Mariner if he were considering such an outrageous notion. Her front paws fidgeted in the gloom.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Alcott. Her place is not up for negotiation.”

Absinth’s face turned to a snarl. The change was bestial in its ferocity. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? You prick! You tellin’ me that fuckin’ rat is better than me?” Even accounting for the orange glare of the flames, the old man’s cheeks had gone bright red from humiliated rage.

“No. But she was first.”

“Get the fuck out of here, you murderer!” Absinth tensed as if ready for a fight. “You’re not welcome. Not you, not your rat, nor your fuckin’ ship neither!”

The Mariner didn’t need to be told twice, he had no stomach for a second death that night. He left, and the further they got from the wolf and widow’s house, the happier Grace became.

5. THE THIRD NIGHT OF OUR TALE

THE MARINER SCREAMED AND TORE at his ears, and yet still the visions remained. The ship, the ‘Neptune’, as it had been named many long years before, screamed too, though her complaints were for the ferocious winds that tore at her frame, and the staggering waves that clashed at her hull.

The day had been spent in preparation. First job had been to tend to his wound. The row of punctures created by the eel’s teeth were each individually deep, yet by a stroke of luck the creature had failed to tear out a larger piece. The Mariner found some old, damp bandages in a cupboard below deck, and rapped them as tightly as he could to stop the bleeding. Infection was his main concern. The whole region throbbed and grew increasingly maroon. What sorts of diseases did eels carry? What sort of poisons could they secrete?

Once he’d stopped the bleeding he attended to the ship, preparing it for the imminent storm. He bolted hatches and reinforced sails. He put everything not nailed down below deck, and yet still he was afraid. They were a long way from land. How long had it been since he’d bid farewell to Absinth and sailed East? Countless days. Endless nights.

Finally, absolutely sure he’d done his best to prepare the Neptune, he’d sat down on the floor and masturbated. Conjuring the sights of the previous evenings, it was easy to achieve an erection, though knowing an eel was behind what he’d seen made him feel nauseous. He sat there, feeling so sick he could throw up, yet so aroused he couldn’t help but rub vigorously, replaying the previous night’s events in his head, and hating himself every moment.

Tonight the eel would return and he had to be as best prepared as he could. To resist, he had to reduce his libido.

He ejaculated. A grim grunt and a spurt and then all the shame he could handle. Despite this, and the soreness in his flaccid penis, he began again. Just to make sure.

But all the preparation had been in vain. As soon as the sun dimmed, not just one, but many arrived. A whole shoal, eager for food, eager for meat, a whole army whose powers meant that the women from the night before were not alone. Tonight there were hundreds.

On all sides, as the Neptune carved a path through the waves, gathered an enormous sexual congregation. Each meagre defence he’d erected was crushed beneath the illusion’s awesome weight. As far as the eye could see were scenes of erotic excess. On one side, three nubile women cavorted, each naked to his eye. On another, two more undressed slowly, trying to tease with every movement of fabric.

It were not just women conjured from the waves. Statuesque males, bodies toned and mighty, penises long and firm, grappled with their concubines. They did not seem threatened by the Mariner’s presence. They too refused to look his way.