Sea Maiden 22 Venus Pregnant mermaid by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 22 Venus – Pregnant mermaid

Art and story by Robert Kline

There is a moment in the life of every lucky man when all that can go well does, when the wind is abaft the beam and steady and warm and the ocean a bathe in sensuality. At such a time, with a good ship working beneath him the strength and sanctuary of true love may cradle his very soul and buoy him beyond that is tedious and common. Such was the case for Sir Edmund Roberts, gentleman naturalist and Sea Maiden questor when late in life he fell into a relationship with the beautiful captain Constance Daphne Fitzwillie. Old Gnarly Dan was moved to observe that “While she ain’t often enough much of a cruise we’s signed on for, onst in a while we gets a good leg. An’ when a gob does, he’d best enjoy ’er; they’s dregs what will follow soon enough.”

Sir Edmund thrived in a fog of glorious grace as he and captain Constance Daphne drifted from their respective wharves of self absorbed solitude. Every night her heart and body was his and every day they were captain and charterer once more. There was no familiarity on the hallowed quarterdeck; Sir Edmund dared to neither cross her stern nor bow until Constance Daphne was in her quarters where the heavy mantle of responsibility slipped from her shoulders, past her magnificent chest and onto the floor (followed immediately by less magisterial articles of clothing. And there, for a time, the two reveled in the privacy (if a skylight and an enraptured crew could be allowed to expand that definition) of their nocturnal adventures.

But as Gnarly Dan predicted, the dregs did follow: brought on by a damsel in distress. “Old Bubo” was the first to sight her, bobbing just at the horizon in a launch, a ragged sail flapping idly and she began chased around the small vessel by another castaway. By the time the Baci closed the distance a drama had unfolded. It appears she, semi clad, was chasing a uniformed gent, she armed with a belaying pin and he in a panic to avoid her wild swings. At last within hailing range he turned to the approaching ship and called out, “Prepare!” or “Beware!” or some such ejaculation, until she smote him squarely on the head. He staggered a step to the side and tumbled across the gunnel and into the drink.

Post traumatic interrogation was made academic when a triangular fin raced to the floating form and then cruised by the Baci’s bow, a protruding ankle and boot giving the fish the unsettling appearance of a man savoring his pipe following a good meal. The damsel was recovered and her story of abduction believed in reverse of the listener’s mastery of lust over logic, for her account was, top to bottom, bilge. The only question for the savvy was “if she be ‘Nasty’ or ‘Naughty’” for she was clearly either the pirate vixen Naughty Natalie or her lethal twin, Nasty Natalie, that distinction separating the amorously accomplished and insatiable from one similarly inclined but who proffered torture as an appetizer and homicide as an aperitif.

And while  it provided endless hours of speculation , Sir Edmund took advantage of the weatherly calm to continue his search for Sea Maidens. In the company of foretop man Berlinni and the old salt, Gnarly Dan, he sighted his 22nd Sea Maiden, she clearly pregnant and drifting silently by Halley’s patented diving apparatus. “It’d be the birth of Venus!” Berlinni exclaimed, and before Gnarly Dan could repeat his previous lecture on pregnancy under the sea, Sir Edmund interrupted. “Yes my good man, her hair has lost its color with her impregnation. Yes, it will return to its natural sate after she gives birth. And yes, she will spend the duration of her pregnancy savoring said state and looking beautiful for ‘they believes, under the sea what she be at her most beauteous’ etc, etc. Now be a good sort and shut up.” It was cruel but had the desired effect: All watched in silence.

Sir Edmund’s journal reads:
Saw our second pregnant Sea Maiden. She healthy and quite attractive. “Venus”
Maidenus pregnantis
July 10, 1833

Sea Maiden 21 Una with dolphin by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 21 Una with dolphin

Art and story by Robert Kline

There was no question of fortitude, for Sir Edmund had acquitted himself well in battle. It was he who, with balls a whizzing about like insects and the deck a sluice of blood and parts had declared, “We have not yet begun to fight” (Gnarly Dan’s muttered, “we oughta start soon,” not withstanding.) Then later, when the full weight of Naughty Nat’s iron took a vicious toll on the HMS Baci, the Torprydro brothers, Vincent and Guido struggling at the helm petitioned their captain to luff the mainsail to allow a brief respite before reengaging their foe, but the valiant Sir Edmund would have none of it. “Dam the Torpeydors,” he cried, “full speed ahead!” Unfortunately, many were incapable if understanding his scientific resolve. “Blast your charter and your Sea Maidens, this is my ship,” Constance Daphne reminded him. And so it went. Day after day until one evening Sir Edmund strode into Constance Daphne’s cabin to pursue his case. She stood soaked in the blue glow of the moon shining though the stern lights and although Sir Edmund’s mouth launched into his practiced diatribe, his eyes absorbed his captain, the translucency of her shirt, the soft curves of the sides of her breasts outlined…no, they were not merely outlined, for she wore the thinnest of silks; clearly her nightwear. And when she drew her breath Sir Edmund’s heart stopped. He took a step toward her and then another until the days and months of proximity, the hints of perfume in the sea of musk, the glimpse of her smile, the knowledge that she bathed and dressed and slept mere feet from his own room was too much.

Their violent first embrace played a counterpoint to the crew’s gentle silence as they peered over the skylight’s rim. Bets were won and lost as whispered oaths drifted through tarred rigging toward the stars, chiding an awestruck crew to further elevate their beloved captain and the brave, quirky naturalist they considered a friend.

The sun rose on a content ship. Captain Constance Daphne coveted her morning tea and quietly ordered a new course set : west southwest and the Galapagos Islands. And yet she coolly ignored Sir Edmund Roberts when he came on deck frowsy, confused, and then dashed when her indifference turned cruel. That night he marshaled his courage and once more invaded the sanctity of her quarters and was confronted when she strode angrily across the room and transitioned effortlessly to passion before her arms were fully around him. Such was their relationship for some time: stormy days and lovely nights. Once, Sir Edmund confided to Gnarly Dan, “I do not understand women,” to which the old salt responded, “Mark me well sir, any man what says he does be either a fool or a liar.” Of course, he elaborated, Ya see, sir, a women’s heart is like this here ship; why it’s a big thing, as fulla’ cubbies and cabins and secret places as you’d never guess, an’ onst a women gets a notion, why she’ll steer the whole thing to China and back if she chooses. Not at all like yer man. No, yer man’s heart is simple like a log. It drifts about and he’s happy wherever the wind and current takes it.” Gnarly Dan smiled, scratched his briefly and added, “So, don’t go getting’ yer sails in a bunch, sir. Just lay back an’ enjoy yer log; the voyage’ll likely be short.”

A week later, Halley’s patented diving apparatus over the side, Sir Edmund witnessed a Sea Maiden cavorting with a dolphin, “Aye cap,” Gnarly Dan instructed, “They mostly gets along down here. They’s nought a creature yer Sea Maiden don’t respect and love. We could learn a bit if we paid attention.”

Sir Edmund Roberts journal reads:
Maidenus Delphinus, Una
Sea Maiden and dolphin spied playing together. Strong swimmers, she the more interesting to watch.

Sea Maiden 19 Sue - Pregnant mermaid by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 19 Sue – Pregnant mermaid

Art and story by Robert Kline

The HMS Baci cruised blithely up the Pacific coast of South America, her crew enraptured by two of man’s greatest pleasures: the presence of a beautiful woman and the opportunity to make a lot of noise. Captain Constance Daphne was indeed attractive beyond words in both countenance and comportment, and it was she who ordered the daily exercising of the ship’s stunning complement of artillery, permitting the men to blast away in good form.

And so, each morning following breakfast, gun crews touched off their charges. Black power erupted in billowous grandeur. Hot balls blew through the air and tons of cast iron bucked happily against constraining ropes as huge cannons recoiled. The men laughed and swore and capered about, and each time, without fail, the good Baci, crew and all, disappeared in a great cloud of self-congratulating smoke.

And while both men and captain reveled in the noteworthy speed and accuracy with which they splintered target rafts, flotsam and shoreline details, both men and captain took their practice very seriously indeed. Certainly the slapped one another’s backs and played fools for a time (never mind the occasional crushed foot or singed face) but behind every laugh was the sure knowledge they were preparing for a rematch with the most feared prate of all the seas, a man whose name was only whispered and still brought a lump to the throat and a stomach plunging like a loosed anchor; the loathsome tyrant, Naughty Nat. The same Naughty Nat who sold both his little brothers into Turkish slavery. The same Naughty Nat who shipped five logs in every voyage to be whittled by hand into planks. Planks that were used, one at a time for out-of-favor crew members to take an enforced stroll into eternity – an eternity most notably punctuated by trashing sharks. And yes, the self named Naughty Nat who pledged fidelity and unending love to every women he encountered – indeed, the same despicable Naughty Nat who respected no women the morning after, the night before, or ever.

This was Naughty Nat captain Constance Daphne wished to reengage, ordering, after the massive cannons were sponged our and secured, the Bacis to crack on with as much canvas spread as the good old ship could handle, the lookouts scanning the horizon for the ship with the ominous black ball on her mainsail (Naughty Nat’s calling card and warning).

In point of fact the HMS Baci was now leap-frogging with the pirate, both vessels unaware of the proximity of the other, sometimes passing in the night, sometimes sailing just out of sight on parallel courses.

Sir Edmund Roberts, the gentleman naturalist and Sea Maiden questor still insisted on an hour every day for his research, Halley’s patented diving apparatus being lowered into the depths. It was after a rather grating day that he and his bell mate, the surly and garrulous old salt, Gnarly Dan spied a Sea Maiden quite apparently pregnant. For all the world she appeared to posing for her voyeurs, throwing out her stout tummy and planting her hands on her hips as if to say, “how nice this is!”

“They does that, you know, cap,” instructed Gnarly Dan while Sir Edmund feigned disinterest, “cause they be proud-like. Ya see onst yer Sea Maiden has a young’un stowed away she’s right special. Ain’t another Sea Maiden nor master what ain’t certain she be at her most beauteous. An’ lookee at her fine white hair, Cap, like a new sail in the midday sun! White it’ll be from beginning to end. Goes back to natural onst her little’un ships out. Proud as punch she be. Posin’ ever chanst she gits!”

Which she did for better than an hour, arching her back, her hands occasionally sliding forward to gently caress her belly.

Sir Edmund Roberts journal reads:
Sighted gravid Sea Maiden. Very proud. Very large.
Maidenus Praegnantus

Sea Maiden 18 Rebecca and Sea Master Amorus by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 18 Rebecca and Sea Master Amorous

Art and story by Robert Kline

Days of fair weather and fine sailing turned to weeks as the HMS Baci sailed up the western coast of South America. All was forgiven by Captain Constance Daphne as her once mutinous crew vied to please her; no order lingered unattended, no wish denied. Every man Jack jumped to the rigging with alacrity while even the cranky cook hummed a sea chantey as he chased weevils form the flour and smothered slanderous beef in great vats of soup.

It turned out that Pretty Willey was not alone in borrowing from the captain’s cabin while she was ashore. Had she moved to wear more than her deposed husband’s naval blouse and pants (he was a small man) she would have found those chests with her intimate apparel empty, for during the crew’s short lived mutiny and flight they had maintained their unflagging attachment to her by fashioning scarves, head cloths, and wrist bands from every stitch of fine silk she’d owed. Had these absconded and obvious items not been so coveted she would have called her sailors to task, but their motives were transparent, their behavior artless.

And while the crew was numerous, the good captain had once been a woman of large parts, indeed, a very large women of very large parts before she retired her incompetent husband and gave chase to the feared Naughty Nat with a partially provisioned ship, thus leaving as many pounds as sea miles in her wake until the once bounteous woman was little more than legs, arms, a beautiful face and a magnificent bosom.

Only Sir Edmund Roberts, the gentleman naturalist and Sea Maiden questor and Gnarly Dan, the irritating old salt, went without mementos, they having been marooned with their captain.

Meanwhile, rumors blew like spindrift relative to the current whereabouts of the pirate Naughty Nat, the most substantive being that he now pursued the HMS Baci, bent on reclaiming his treasure, flogging the crew to submission, hanging the ship’s cat, ravaging Captain Constance Daphne and finally dismantling the Baci plank by plank leaving nothing m but a sour memory of the enterprise that had tweaked his nose and sullied his reputation.

Totally nonplussed was Sir Edmund Robert, whose forays in Halley’s patented diving apparatus continued, his latest Sea Maiden sighting near the coast of Peru.

His journal, later damaged during overzealous scrutiny by his relatives seeking evidence of his mental incompetence, speaks of the encounter:

Non legible writing…

Sea Maiden 18 “Rebecca”

Sea Master 5 “Amorous”

Sea Maiden 18 Penny by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 18 Penny

Art and story by Robert Kline

His aeroplane tethered because of high winds, Edmund C. Roberts left his steamship, the Baci Finale. Ashore at last, he hired a carriage and then a horse, traveling even further up the coast. He stayed to those roads that paralleled the Pacific shore’ finally tying his mount and venturing down a path leading ti a cliff overlooking the ocean. He stood for a moment, watching the huge waves roll onto the sun-soaked beach.

“Is that a log?” he asked himself as he alternately studied a means of descending and then looked back at the object below. “By Jove! I do believe it’s a Sea Maiden—-stranded, as it were…unmoving…deceased?” He frowned and swung from the slight tree he held, working his way through the tangle of underbrush until he accompanied the beach. It was indeed a Sea Maiden he had spied, she being a short walk from where he now stood, her body twisted, the sun fully caressing her. Edmund drew a breath. While it had been some time since he had given it much thought, he realized he had come to prefer to prefer females of the more mannish sort. And yet the demonstrably feminine Sea Maiden before him had his attention immediately arrested, booked and summarily incarcerated. He approached her as if fearing she would awaken.

He looked down in the silence as she lay in his shadow. A sea gull screamed overhead. The Sea Maidens face did not move. Her chest was still. He watched her. Her chest did not move. He looked away and then back again. Her chest continued motionless. He closed his eyes and thought good thoughts. He peaked with one eye. There was no hint of breath. Her breasts neither rose nor fell. “Damnation!” he cursed as he succumbed and knelled at her side. She remained the study of calm. “Statuesque,” he muttered as he continued to stare; “a work of art—and so serenely beautiful in death.”

Edmund C. Roberts did not know what old Gnarly Dan had taught his grandfather, the gentleman naturalist, Sir Edmund Roberts: Sea Maidens are aquatic mammals, and as such, sleep—weather in the deep or ashore—in a manner to conserve oxygen—a mini-hibernation. Their hearts beat once an hour. Their lungs husband life-sustaining air and ever so grudgingly release it into their languidly drifting bloodstream.

Edmund C. Roberts was mourning a slumbering Sea Maiden. He leaned over her face, mightily tempted by the soft allure of her body. He looked to her face and particularly her lips. He glanced guiltily over his shoulder and then up the hill from whence he had come, and finally out to the sea. He was unobserved. Who would know? Only he.

He was still a bit shy, having had bad salmon the night before, but found his Sea Maiden as fresh as an onshore breeze. He touched her lips. They were salty, cool, velvety. He warmed them with his own. He looked at her closed eyes. She was Beautiful. He looked at her open eyes.

“Hell damnation!” he shrieked as he scrambled to his feet, clawing backward across the sand as he rose. The Sea Maiden rubbed her eyes and watched with drowsy fascination as the object of her dream fled to the woods.

His journal reads:
Heaven forgive me.
Brown hair. Glorious body. Blue tail.
March 9, 1913

Sea Maiden 17 Quinlan and Sea Master Erotis by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 17 Quinlan and Sea Master Erotis

Art and story by Robert Kline

With fumbling sufficiency Sir Edmund Roberts, gentleman naturalist and Sea Maiden questor, and Gnarly Dan, the pontificating old salt whose vessel of sea lore regularly plied the narrow but treacherous straits separating wisdom from absurdity, manhandled Halley’s patented diving apparatus back into the Gulf of Guytecas so Sir Edmund Roberts could continue his Sea Maiden observations.

Meanwhile, their captain, the beautiful and gloriously buxom Constance Daphne, intent on accessing sufficient funds to hire a ship and crew to hound the H.M.S. Baci and her mutineers to the ends of the earth, went north to Valdivia and the port of Valparaiso searching for an agent of her bank.

Temporarily scuttled was her hunt for the notorious pirate Naughty Nat and her departed husband’s stolen chapeau (used by his grandfather to shade Lord Nelson as he lay dying at Trafalagar.)

And so, Sir Edmund Roberts descended in his bell, sighted the third Sea Master and Sea Maiden pair and came to the surface morose and stunned with grief. Gnarly Dan was solicitous and unrelenting. “What’s afoot Sir? Why the sudden squall? Beggin’ yer pardon, maybe I can help. Lay it on the deck and we’ll nudge it about a bit.” Sir Edmund snuffed dryly. “I’m a naturalist, my good man, and death is as much a part of my work as the bloom of life- more so, often enough. Regardless, I have witnessed a sight to wound the heart of the hardest man: a handsome Sea Master ’in migration’ apparently from the Africa’s, has had his mate expire – she lay cradled in his powerful ebony arms, beautiful to the last and most serene in countenance. Oh, that I should die so content!”

Gnarly Dan frowned for a moment and then perked up. “Was her head back and her arms a hangin’ like twin anchor cables?” Sir Edmund nodded, “Indeed.” Gnarly Dan continued, “And tell me, yer honor, did she ever so lightly – like a ship’s cat testing wet tar – did she ever so lightly have just a corner of his tail held between her thumb and finger?” The naturalist consulted his sketchbook. “She did.” Gnarly Dan brightened and settled into a mellow laughter. “Dead sir! That’s a good ‘un! Stow yer tears, squire she’s more likely dead tired! Gone to heaven she has, but it warn’t her at the pearly gates!”

For a man in the tropics, Sir Edmund’s icy stare was commendable. At last, Gnarly Dan relented and explained. “we’ve seen a pool of Sea Masters and Sea Maidens these last two days, am I right sir? And they’s been doin’ their wedding dance, if you catch my meaning. A smart gent like yourself must have puzzled out by now that things is a sight different under the sea and what happens next is one of ‘em. You see, when a Sea Master gets the nod from there mate, he’s got to prove he’s worthy. And sir, I’ll not ask into the bedroom antics of yerself and Mrs. Edmund, but I’ll give you this – yer Sea Master don’t just fire a shot across the bow and then retire. His job is to bend every sail and take her on the voyage of her life and never mind if it takes a watch and a half to do it! So he does. Light sails and gentle breezes, then full gale and batten down the hatches. Maybe even becalmed a bit and then into the breach once more! Pounding waves and spindrift, long swells and rough chop, broadsides and rolling fire! No sir, the trip ain’t over ‘til yer Sea Maiden gets a kind of gloomy look and faints dead away. And that’s a fact!”

Gnarly Dan grinned like a stowaway. “They say little girls want to grow up and be like a Sea Maiden, but I tell you what, big girls just want to spend some time at sea with a Sea Master. You see, like a good sailor, yer Sea Master knows the longer the voyage, the sweeter the homecoming.”

Sir Edmund’s journal reads:
Sea Maiden and Sea Master sighted near the island of Quinlan (thus her name). He is magnificent, she beautiful but fatigued.
Maidenus Mortis Sublimis
Average weight, dark hair, dark skin.
Magnus Erotis
Muscular, dark hair, dark skin.
April 13, 1833, Gulf of Guytecas, island of Quinlan

Sea Maiden 12 Lisa by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 12 Lisa

Art and story by Robert Kline

Tempering the handful of victories the H.M.S. Baci savored during her extended and convoluted circumnavigation, was a spat of humiliating failures. Notable was the setback the ship and company suffered when they made their first attempt on Cape Horn in 1833. Weeks of vexing winds, sudden squalls and blasting cold thwarted success. The good ship could not claw her way around the Horn and neither could she sneak by during the too brief window of fair weather. At last, her rigging wounded, her mizzen mast a stump, and her crew much reduced by the monstrous waves that swept her decks, the H.M.S. Baci turned tail and limped back to the South American coast seeking a harbor with the naval stores to rebuild and repair, lick wounds and reconstitute the crew’s fortitude.

The captain’s resolve needed no such attention; in fact she had remained steadfast defiant, nonplussed and a fair example right up to the moment Stumpy Pete’s peg came unshipped and sailed onto the stalwart captain’s pate. She’d had herself lashed to a mast so she could howl ordered and wave her arms unconcerned for her own safety when the missile knocked her senseless.

Half the available crew hailed the captain to her cabin, willing hands buoying her ample bosoms and other tempting parts while the rest of the crew seized the opportunity to bring the floundering ship about and flee the Horn. Words pale to describe the captain’s reaction when she finally recovered her senses and learned they had been beaten.

Sir Edmund Roberts acquitted himself quite well both in attempt on the Horn and the subsequent coddling of the unconscious captain and it was to him that she passed her orders to enter the harbor so they could expedite their return.

Before the Baci was careened Sir Edmund Roberts had his diving bell roused from the depths of the ship’s hold so he could continue his Sea Maiden quest.

He sighted his 12th Sea Maiden in the transparent depths of midday. She drifted slowly by the bell’ seemingly transfixed, the only other movement being her hair, at once ahoo and dancing in the light currents. Gnarly Dan, accompanying Sir Edmund in the diving apparatus whispered that she was slumbering, carried by the slow tidal sweep: “Yer Sea Maiden dearly loves to sleep; for it’s there she dreams of her sailor.”

Sir Edmund Roberts journal reads:
Maidenus Somnolentus
“Lisa”
February 27, 1833
Port Desire, Coast of South America
Beautiful coloration. Strong body. Handsomely equipped for motherhood. Quiet smile.

Sea Maiden 11 Joy with Octopus by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 11 Joy with octopus

Art and story by Robert Kline

“I give you Joy!” Edmund C. Roberts exclaimed, both in response to the season and the beautiful Sea Maiden that was before him.

As a word of explanation before the remainder of this adventure is related, I feel the need to step from my role as omniscient narrator and inform the reader relative  to this particular Sea Maiden sighting. We cannot escape the vicissitudes of fortune, even when sitting, martini in hand, communicating with those with whom we have had no previous acquaintance. Researching the stories of Sir Edmund Roberts and later, his grandson, Edmund C. Roberts, has led me across various continents and many oceans on journeys at least convoluted as those of the afore mentioned gentlemen. The second most frustrating thing that I have encountered in my research has been the occasional lack of continuity reparative to reported Sea Maiden sightings. Such is the case currently. Sea Maiden 11 was listed by Edmund C. Roberts as his fourth sighting. Yet he lists ten sightings as previous. Further, if one is to believe his fourth sighting nonsense, one must ignore a nearly four month and two thousand mile lapse.  I did recently travel to Seattle, Washington and at that time took the opportunity to dive by the bay Edmund C. Roberts described. Not only was the bottom (sea bottom that is, for sadly, I had no opportunity to observe a Sea Maiden bottom) as he described it, but the area is still populated by giant octopus (the accepted plural is left to personal preference; octopuses, octopus, octopi, and octopussies all accepted—though it was with Herculean effort that I rejected the latter.) In addition, various marine biologists I encountered verified that an emotional octopus does indeed turn red, and that in the winter—say December—they do exhibit an unusual gregarious nature—thus supporting the observed “dance” with Edmund C. Roberts’ Sea Maiden. A celebration of Christmas and the oneness of we who populate this planet? Who am I to say?

So….

The diving apparatus was crowded and hot; Edmund C. Roberts, the ship’s captain, Jimmy—the chief engineer, his daughter, and the three stowaway children; Sarah, Sue and Marie all occupying the bell’s humid space. It was Edmund’s Christmas gift to them—sharing the ocean floor, as it were—and they were grateful to the extreme. The sea around them was alive with aquatic creatures, but all were transfixed by a Sea Maiden in the embrace of an octopus, “Dancing” as they drifted by.

“They’re dancing!” Sarah exclaimed. It’s so sweet,” Sue added. “I think Baby Jesus touched them,” Marie whispered. Jimmy whistled softly and concluded, “Lord above, wouldn’t I love ta have eight hands.”

Edmunds journal reads:
Maidenus Christmas, “Joy”
Octopus dofleini
Strait of Juan de Fuca
December 25th, 1912

Sea Maiden 7 Flora and black tip shark by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 7 Flora and Black Tip Shark

Art and story by Robert Kline

Purchase print here

When Edmund C. Roberts went to sea in 1912 he did so with more then a reasonable shares of dislikes: he did not particularly care to be afloat, for the motion of the ship made him ill—he wished to avoid the company of women as they had historically caused him nothing but inconvenience or heartache—he considered all but the smallest percentage of men his social and intellectual inferior; the vast majority being, in his opinion, on a par with draught horses and slow dogs—and as for children; they made him itch.

Yet, one by one, his prejudices were vanishing. It had been some time since he had cast a meal into the ocean, and further, he now reveled in the sharp bite of the sea air. More than a few times he found himself looking forward to the presence of those who worked his vessel, going so far on occasion as to descend below decks and observe those who toiled stoking the ship’s boilers and oiling its huge machinery. He had idle chats with his chief engineer and with the Baci Finale’s captain. Things had indeed begun to change.

In point of fact, he now smiled as his three former stowaways ran toward him. They were dressed rather smartly, attired in diminutive sailor’s uniforms; certainly a far cry from the tattered men’s shirts they’d worn when discovered.

“Yer honor!” Sarah shouted, “We seen a bloody whale, a nasty bird-like thing, and a sea weed as long as yer ship” Sue added, “We seen ‘em! Each one! Even Marie! Marie trailed her sisters and grinned with satisfaction because she had been mentioned. “Have you really now?” Edmund mused. “Quite nice, really, that you should see so many things! Jolly good show, girls!”
And so it was.

But he had not come to terms with his carpenters’ daughter Alex. Now that she made no effort to disguise her femininity, she haunted him—subtly, at first, he realizing only an anxiety or annoyance when she was near. Then, when she wasn’t, he began to wonder where she was. With time he speculated as to her daily routine. Then, what she ate. Where. With whom. He thought of her preparing to retire. Before long he lay in bed and pictured her asleep. Then awake. Lonely and pacing the ship’s deck. Dressing. Undressing. (He was out of control.)

Such was the case as he sat alone in his diving apparatus wondering what she was about. A black tip shark startled him as it swam by. Then slowly, a Sea Maiden drifted into view. The shark sensed her immediately and began to circling. But that was all he did. They drifted by and into the distance.

That night as Edmund added to his journal he wondered what the carpenter’s daughter was doing. “By God, she haunts me,” he thought as he reflected on her masculine allure.

His entry reads:
Maidenus perilus, “Flora”
Sighted October 3, 1912

Sea Maiden 6 Emily with Yellowfin Tuna by Robert Kline

Sea Maiden 6 Emily with Yellowfin Tuna

Art and story by Robert Kline

When Edmund C. Roberts brought his steamship and had it refurbish inside and out he believed that he was creating his own private island, his escape, his floating kingdom. Every naval gadget available in 1912 was purchased and installed. His quarters extended from the bridge aft; room after room as opulent and comfortable as any available on shore. There was not a hotel in London that could compare. Once the overhaul was complete and the ship provisioned, hawsers cast loose from the Portsmouth pier. A few wives and children stood in the morning damp and waved as the Baci Finale’s triple expansion steam engine increased its cadence, but there was on one who would miss Edmund C.. He had no family interested in his welfare, and every female of his acquaintance had been alienated months before. As the ship’s sooty cloud drifted over the dock Edmund C. turned to his captain and instructed, “Take us out of England waters and onto the high sea, if your will. Let us begin.” He had every expectation that he was simplifying his life. He had a competent crew, a well-found ship and enough money to steam to Mars and back were it possible. He was leaving behind polite society, formal balls and an unending progression of available women. There could be no romantic complications now.

Well into the voyage he still hadn’t perfected the art of landing his Bleriot XI aeroplane onto the makeshift landing deck on the good ship, Baci Finale. He had already wrecked the flimsy aeroplane four times, taxing his restoration crew to it’s limit. Twice, he had smashed enough of his Anzani 3 cylinder engine to make repair impossible and replacement the only option. As many times he had destroyed his landing gear, and three times, at least one of the wood and fabric wings had required extensive reconstruction. It was as he inspected the latest repairs that his life stumbled back to complex. Henry, his mechanic, ran his hand idly over the aeroplane’s propeller. “Boss, ya can’t keep wreckin’ these things—they ain’t at be had like candy, ya know.” There was flinty silence as Edmund C. suffered the implied criticism of his flying skills. Fritz, his German carpenter and thus incharge of the sticks and cloth end of the aeronautical wonder, interrupted the quiet. “plenty of fabric. Ein forest of wood—vee haf no lack of lumber. As long as herr Roberts can climb back on, vee kann keep up our end.”

The young aviator ignored both and stared at his Bleriot. Until Alex, Fritz’s son and apprentice spoke. Edmund had always found the carpenters offspring unnerving—soft spoken when he opened his mouth, reclusive to a fault when not working on the Bleriot, and always moving to the shadows and staring anytime Edmund C. appeared. “You need the Rhone,” Alex said, surprising everyone. It’s more powerful; you’ll have more control. You’re underpowered now.” Edmund C. flared. He turned toward the youth standing at the opposite side of the aeroplane. Stick to sewing on patches; you may interject your opinion when you’re a man.” “That’ll be a long wait,” Alex answered, mumbling once more. “And why is that?” Edmund taunted.

Fritz cringed as Alex came around the aeroplane and walked up to his boss. “Because I’m a girl. I’m a woman—a fraulein!” she added for good measure as she threw her baggy hat to the deck. Edmund C. Roberts’ jaw dropped. He narrowed his eyes and examined Alex to ascertain the joke, but the more he looked, the more apparent it became that the person in front of him was indeed female—board shouldered to be sure, a bit masculine of face—though in a remarkably pleasant way—but now that he really paid attention; a women. Her hair was short, but released from the ever present wool cap it framed a girl’s face. Edmund turned back to Fritz.

“I never denied das ist mein taughter!” the carpenter rejoined. Edmund C. turned on his heel and retreated. We’ll discuss this later,” was all he could manage. His journal entry for day mentions only the Sea Maiden he sighted while pouting in his diving bell.

Maidenus confoundus “Emily” (His mother’s name)
Sighted in the company of a big fish (A yellow fin tuna). My journey has taken a turn.

This illustration is available for purchase in the following matted sizes: 5″ x 7″, 8″ x 10″, 11″ x 14″ and an 11″ x 17″ that comes unmatted on a piece of 1/4″ foam board.

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