The Girl From The Deep

A femme fatale story, inspired by the stories of Edgar Allan Poe, traditional New England sailing lore, and the myths of Ancient Greece.

***

My name is Captain William F. Lowell, son of the wealthy shipping magnate Samuel Lowell of New Bedford, Massachusetts. I took the helm of the merchant vessel, Valkyrie, which, having departed from the city of Boston, made her way across the Atlantic on a long voyage through the well-traveled Caribbean trade routes.

Alas... like so many others before me, I failed to return my ship to her native port of call due to unforeseen complications which, to this day, still plague my tormented soul, and the equally wretched souls of my men.

This is my plea for help...

***

Some time ago, myself, first mate John Gardner, and the rest of my crew were crossing the Atlantic on the Valkyrie, her belly fat with the riches of the West Indies. At long last, we had charted a course for home and subsequently encountered a long period of calm weather. The crew was indeed in good spirits, and well stocked with rations of fine rum. However, our fortune soon took an abrupt shift when we found ourselves ensnared overnight in a large mass of seaweed, masked by the ink-dark cloak of evening.

We waited until the first light of dawn to investigate our dilemma and were shocked to find our ship encircled by a carpet of green sludge that extended no less than five or six-hundred meters in all directions. As we happened to have some fishing gaffs on board, we made use of these in a creative way, deploying them off the bow to clear a means of safe passage through the horrid, stinking mass.

The crew worked in shifts for hours until the end was in sight, before a most unexpected thing happened. Emerging from the outer rim of the seaweed my men discovered a strange, perfectly spherical object, composed entirely of seaweed like the rest of the coagulation. However, this object was woven together as if by an intelligent hand, reminding me of the intricate lacework of the spinsters on Market Street back home in Boston. Fascinated by their discovery, they hauled the object aboard and gathered on deck, surrounding the ungodly thing and supposing this and that in regards to what it might be.

As I stared at the pregnant object myself, I found it to be pulsing with life, no doubt having ensnared some strange creatures of the sea, much like the mass of seaweed had thusly ensnared the Valkyrie itself. I instructed first mate Gardner to remove his knife and cut the thing open so that we might make better sense of its composition and contents. He advanced slowly, no doubt nervous about what sort of discovery we might make, but soon succeeded in cutting a large swath through its exterior hide.

With a gush of seawater, the thing promptly spilled its guts upon the deck of the ship. A deluge of writhing, black eels sluiced forth, along with a few floundering fish. But what emerged amongst them would have easily astonished even the most seasoned of adventurers, raised on stories of giant squids and other fantastical beasts of the angry sea. - It was a beautiful girl! Nude as the day she was born, she slipped from the greenish pod, surrounded by the assemblage of phallic creatures which whipped angrily back and forth like panicked serpents, in stark contrast to her pale, feminine form. She lay there, face down and unmoving, with her long, wavy hair splayed haphazardly over the gentle slope of her back.

Speculation ensued. Some said the poor girl must have fallen overboard on a passing ship and drowned. Others dismissed this, wondering how she could have made it this far out to sea, and without any clothing. Whatever the cause of her demise was, the crew was unanimous in finding it a terrible shame that such a beautiful woman could find herself lying in a pitiful heap, with a fate such as this.

This sentiment did not last long, however, as it was soon interrupted by a new surprise. The girl jolted to life! She began vomiting seawater onto the deck in a fit of uncontrollable coughing. The men rushed to help her but I held them back, tending to her myself out of concern that they might appear like a pack of hungry wolves. I lifted her chin and saw her distant, blue-grey eyes begin to come into focus, first upon me, and then on the crowd that had gathered around her.

She smiled slightly, filling us all with a sense of deep relief.

"Are you injured? Who are you? How did you get here?" I asked, speaking quickly. "We thought you'd drowned!"

The girl spoke softly, still making an effort to regain her strength. "My name is Halia," she said. "And I did drown! Such horrible dreams I had over these long years. But you've saved me!" I knew at once the girl must have suffered fatigue, dehydration, and perhaps a touch of madness, having been out to sea alone and near death for who knows how long. She tried to stand, so I helped her to her feet.

I must admit that even I, strong-willed as I am, stumbled backward at the sight of the beautiful young woman before me, as she took to her feet. She was the most enchanting creature I had ever laid my eyes upon. The crew stood there, equally aghast, absorbed in the sight of her perfect, nude body. It was like she was chiseled from marble by the most adept of ancient sculptors. She gave a cat-like stretch, then ran her fingers through her knotted hair, straightening it as if with a comb, then tied her long locks back behind her head with a strand of seaweed, letting them fall gracefully over her soft shoulders.

Though her cheeks were flushed, she did not seem the least bit ashamed to reveal her naked body in all its glory. Halia had beautiful, blonde hair that flowed like the water she was resurrected from. She possessed a slender frame with bountiful breasts, tipped with beautiful, crimson nipples. They swayed gently from side to side as she finished adjusting her hair.

The crew gazed down in astonishment at her exposed sex, undeterred by the small gathering of pubic hair that had formed on account of her inability to groom during what must have been a dreadful imprisonment. It was not quite golden as the locks on her head, but still fair. Fair enough that when the sun shone through the soft mass it turned almost transparent, revealing two delicate, rosy lips, like a doorway to the secret riches of her body.

My men stood there transfixed by it, straining in their pants, each fancying themselves like a wicked Saint Peter at the gates of Heaven. But I quickly cast these impure thoughts from my mind, realizing that it would soon become my duty to protect the poor girl from the feverish advances of my men. Men who had spent many a long night at sea desiring the nightly caresses of a woman, when the nearest one lay thousands of miles away.

I quickly removed my coat, interrupting their fantasies by wrapping it around her body and securing the buttons. "Come," I said, "I will take you to my private quarters where you can rest, dry off, and have a little something to eat."

With Gardner by my side, I led her swiftly to the safe surroundings of my cabin where she would be safe. Once inside, her eyes opened wide, taken aback by the splendor of the room, with its fine wood paneling, grand mahogany desk, and the intricate maps on the walls. But what commanded her attention more than anything else was the small collection of curios that resided in a series of cabinets off to her left, which I had obtained at various points along my many travels.

She approached them quickly, her eyes full of awe and wonder. With child-like innocence she examined the artifacts, one by one, sparkling in their cases like stolen treasure. Halia walked from case to case, running her delicate fingers across the objects, intrigued by each and every object in my cabinet of curiosities.

This collection included a rare black pearl acquired by my father on his first trip around Cape Horn. There was the golden pendant given to me by the sole surviving dependents of the native Taino peoples of Hispaniola, which was said to possess magical healing powers. Even the three faded gold coins arrested her attention, which had been recovered from the wreck of the Gran Princesa de los Cielos, a famed Spanish warship of the seventeen-hundreds.

Gardner and I stood there, observing her with great interest as she studied these objects in my oversized coat, looking a bit like a drowned rat. I dismissed him at once, instructing Gardner to fetch some suitable attire for the young woman; an extra pair of clothing from one of the deck hands who most closely approximated her size. Before long he returned, having done the deed successfully, and offered them to her.

Halia promptly disrobed, placing the coat upon my desk. Gardner and I quickly averted our eyes, blushing as we were accustomed to doing in the presence of even an immodestly dressed woman, let alone an unclothed one. However, we could not help sneaking a polite peek now and then, acknowledging that we too suffered the long days and nights without companionship, much like the rest of my men.

Having normalized the situation, we agreed to travel onward toward Boston, with the goal of delivering the young woman to the authorities at once, so that she might find safe travel back to wherever she had come from, or else find the means to settle down there and make a new life for herself.

It wasn't long before the crew began exchanging stories. Some said Halia was a daughter of the sea gods. Others claimed she was a siren of ancient myth. Some feared her, and others were enamored. Others tried in vain to reconcile the fact that they held both these perspectives at the same time.

"I should like to bring my ship into her port,", said one of my men in jest.

"You? Surely she would prefer my brig to your dinghy," said another. The first man found this retort far from amusing, preparing his fists for a brawl which I stepped in to diffuse.

I perceived in them a sort of madness brewing; the madness that only a woman could bring. Yes, I saw before my eyes two men like emancipated dogs quarreling over a piece of scavenged meat. I tried to bring peace to their minds but it was no use. She had a grasp on them, and truthfully, on me as well.

I soon tasked Gardner with Halia's sole guardianship, preparing for her some private quarters below deck, and assigning him a nightly post at her door to keep a constant vigil in order to ensure that she received no unwanted visitors.

Such it would remain, I decided, until we safely reached Boston.

***

I learned much too late of what transpired that night...

It was well past the stroke of midnight when Gardner stirred to life outside of Halia's door, awoken by the presence of a soft hand upon his shoulder. She leaned in close to his ear, whispering, "Dear fellow, it is cold in my room. So cold." He could feel her shivering as she gently touched his body. "Please, come inside with me. There is enough room in my bed. I promise to tell no one."

Gardner, shocked by her request, offered first to fetch her some extra blankets, but Halia refused.

"No, no," she said, "I require the warmth of a man by my side. Only the warmth that a man can provide." She offered him a soft smile, gently stroking his back with a loving caress.

Gardner felt conflicted; both loyal to the duties I had assigned to him, but weak in the way any man is weak when faced with the pleas of a wanton young woman. I do not blame him, I suppose, for giving in to her desires, and for following her back into the room. But the deed, having soon been done, would set into motion a rapid demise that even I was not strong enough to prevent.

Soft-footed Halia led him across the room to the small bed made up for her. She sat there, inviting him to join her, and then they both lay down, side by side, in a state of repose. Gardner's heart beat quickly as she gently took his arm, guiding it around her body until the two entered a spooning position. She sighed happily, feeling his warmth surround her. Gardner, too, began to relax, quickly subdued by the soothing presence of a lovely young woman.

Minutes later, Halia sought more from her new companion, turning slightly to face him, to bury her face in his neck, and caress his chest. The two slowly became entwined in an embrace. Guided by their rising passions, Halia quickly pulled off his shirt and ran her soft fingers across his bare flesh. He quickly undressed her, marveling at the sight of her ample breasts as they sprang free. Soon they were both naked, filled with amorous emotion, moving softly together, body to body, flesh to flesh.

Gardner adored her youthful form, perfectly crafted over what could not have been more than two decades on Earth. He caressed her breasts, and then made his way down her body to her beautiful sex tucked in between her legs. She offered it up to him, spreading her hips wide. He gazed at her intimate parts, surrounded by a soft ring of hair, glistening and sweet like the pink flesh of a freshly opened oyster. Halia grasped at his erect member with delight, giving him a gentle squeeze to assess his size and firmness. He became suddenly fearful, worried how her seemingly virginal body might suffer should he dare try to enter her delicate hole with his massive length and girth. But he relented and eased his hips forward.

In fact, her body received him with a surprising ease. She guided his erect penis deeper and deeper inside her, sighing softly as she felt him fill her from within, softly throbbing in the depths of her young body. He shivered with pleasure, feeling her inner muscles working his cock with eagerness and enthusiasm. She gazed up at him with her blue-grey eyes, drinking deep the reflection of his unexpected affections. His body buzzed with an electric charge, moving his hips faster and faster, watching the soft bounce of her joyous breasts, and then down at her sweet, wet pussy as it devoured him with hunger and urgency.

She began to cry out, wrapping her arms around his strong back, clutching him tightly, almost painfully, as he guided her down a path of true lust and passion. Overwhelmed by the sensation of her welcoming body, he turned Halia over onto her hands and knees. Gardner clutched her soft, naked buttocks and guided his swollen cock back into her silky canal. Plunging himself helplessly inside her, he grasped for her gently swinging breasts, feeling their soft weight jostling against his palms.

She began to moan his name repeatedly, as if it were a mystical chant, while his pelvis repeatedly smacked against her soft cheeks, sending them rippling. "Halia!" he cried out at last, feeling the intense surge of masculine energy within him begin to take hold and cascade through his body. He reacted quickly, attempting to pull his slick member from the deep recesses of her body, but she reached back suddenly, grasping his buttocks firmly and pulling him close.

Not permitting him to exit, she continued to rock her hips swiftly back and forth, milking his cock with a feverish lust.

"Do not withdraw!" she pleaded. "I love you! Fill my body with your warm seed! Do this- please!"

He gasped, unable to stop the passion about to erupt from within him. Halia closed her eyes and let out a soft laugh as she felt him release inside her. Gardner grunted and strained his body, pressing his hips frantically forward to drive his cock as deeply as possible as he continued to spasm. Wave after wave of cum exploded through her pink depths as he unloaded months of unquenched desire, until a bliss of pure satisfaction began to wash over him.

However, it was soon followed by a powerful weakness. A weakness, a weakness like nothing he'd ever felt before...

***

I emerged from my cabin the following morning at the first sign of a rosy-fingered dawn, just as I did each day. I found my crew busy at work, but confused, thanks to the absence of Gardner, who was always the first to take command before my arrival. I inquired as to his whereabouts, but was met with a series of shrugs and perplexed expressions that caused me great alarm.

Moments later, Halia rose from the depths of the Valkyrie, rubbing her eyes at the sudden appearance of the morning light. I questioned her, too, about Gardner's whereabouts, given the fact that he was stationed outside her very room that night.

"I don't know," she explained, "I awoke just now and found him missing when I exited my room."

"A man does not just vanish," I said to myself, before ordering some of the crew to search the ship.

When they came back empty handed, I immediately dropped anchor and summoned all hands on deck. Over the next several hours, we performed an exhaustive search that reached every corner of the vessel. Gardner was nowhere to be found.

Many feared he had gone overboard. I carefully considered a reversal, in the hopes of finding him afloat, but there was no telling how long ago it might have happened, how far he could have drifted in the meantime, or where we now stood relative to his position. That is, if he was even still alive, which itself seemed dreadfully unlikely. This fate seemed the only likely scenario, but the most horrible of all, as there was simply no way a man lost overboard could be expected to be recovered hours later.

Having made the terrible call to push on, I retired to my quarters, faced with the grim task of striking John Gardner from the ship's official roster, and affixing to his name the fearsome skull and crossbones symbol that indicated a death at sea. It was a most unceremonious end to a fine gentleman, husband, sailor, and long time friend.

However, it was the deed that the occasion required of me, and I did it faithfully, determined to deliver the rest of my crew safely to our destination, along with our unexpected passenger, and the bounty that we still carried deep in the ship's hull.

***

To my horror, and the horror of my men, one vanishing soon became two. Then three. For the next several nights, men were seemingly whisked away in the night, never to be seen again. Sometimes it was one at a time, sometimes two, sometimes even three poor souls who left no trace behind of what had happened to them, where they had gone overnight.

Before long, I was down to a mere skeleton crew, composed of the sailors that had taken the most care, sometimes staying awake all through the night, not risking to so much as venture to use the head, preferring to fill a small container beside their bed when nature called. It was a pitiful existence, living in fear of the unknown, feeling trapped and helpless on a ship jettisoning its crew one by one, like common jetsam.

I had a nightmare.

I had dozed off briefly at my desk, having received such little sleep myself, brooding as I was about the terrible situation we found ourselves in. A hazy image came to me. One of a woman. As she came into focus, I saw that it was Halia. She was laughing, holding my hand, leading me across what looked like a distant field. But it wasn't a field. It was the very surface of the ocean.

We passed over it as if able to walk on water. Suddenly, she was nude again, just as she was on the day we had rescued her. As she whisked me off over the unsteady waves, she kept glancing back at me, smiling, laughing, blowing sweet kisses which traveled upon the wind to deliver them to my cheek.

But my legs grew heavy. So heavy that it became difficult to move. She tugged me forward, and I struggled to keep up. Before long, it was nearly impossible to stand. She slowed down, letting go of my hand. As my feet began to sink beneath the surface of the ocean, I reached out for her, but she just gazed down at me, laughing. I frantically grasped for her, not wishing to be devoured by the angry currents claiming my body, dragging me to what was surely a watery grave.