"Let's offer it to the moon," a sailor said.
The misfits disagreed. They wanted to see its contents first. I knew they must have thought it was full of precious items they could sell later, and I had no means with which to stop them. I just wailed and whined like a weakened princess—oh, how I hate how fragile I was in those days.
Just as one of them pulled it open, a door creaked open somewhere. It creaked loudly and slowly enough for everyone to get back on their knees again. It was Captain Ahab's door.
31
What a dark and tall man he was. He smoked his pipe and walked slowly, confidently, not caring about anything in the world, toward us. I couldn't see most of his facial features in the dark, but I had a feeling it was better this way. I could see he had a beard, though. He walked with grace, the wooden floor creaking mercilessly under his steps.
Captain Ahab walked toward the sack. He didn't pick it up. He pulled a sword and rummaged with it through the items inside, then he continued smoking.
"She hid it from us. We wanted to offer it to the moon!" the silver-toothed man protested.
Captain Ahab didn't talk. He simply walked toward the man, still smoking his pipe. I noticed smoke came out of seven holes in it. They were right when they said it wasn't just a pipe, but also a flute. Was he really the descendant of the Piper? Then shouldn't he be connected to the mermaids somehow? Why hadn't they stopped humming, then?
"We needed more offerings so the Moongirl would help us," the silver-toothed man lied, stuttering, shying away from Ahab's piercing look.
Captain Ahab simply pulled the man by his neck. With one simple move, he threw him overboard. The man wailed and screamed, kicking hands and legs in the air before he landed in the arms of the mermaids. I could hear them biting happily at him for a while before they faded into silence and disappeared.
"The Moongirl only saves the goodhearted." Captain's Ahab's voice sucked in the air and I couldn't hear the hiss of the sea or the rippling of its tides. "And most of you aren't."
"We're not evil-hearted," the man with an eye patch protested.
"But you're not goodhearted either," Captain Ahab said. "Evil isn't the worst thing in the world. Lost souls like you, who haven't made up their minds, are," he said, as if wanting to spit on each and every one of them. He certainly didn't like humans, men or women. "The only reason why you're on my ship is that I am the only one at sea who can handle lost souls." He took a short drag, almost in rhythm with the tempo of his words. All syllables took an equal amount of time to be pronounced. He didn't feel any rush. Captain Ahab seemed not to care about anything but his whales. "Next time the mermaids show up, just toss one of you to them. It's the best way."
"I know I chose a side," another man protested. "I know I am goodhearted."
"Says who?" Captain Ahab laughed and reached for his harpoon.
Everyone made way for Ahab's target, the poor man who believed he was goodhearted. The captain didn't hesitate. With the pipe in his mouth, he shot at the man, penetrating his middle with his harpoon. "The Moongirl didn't save you from me, did she?" Ahab said, as the man fell silently to his knees then flat to the floor. Blood spread all over the deck. "No, the so-called Moongirl will never near this ship." He meant because she didn't go near the color red. So how was she supposed to save the goodhearted if she didn't get near blood?
Everyone bowed their heads to Captain Ahab now. The mermaids had gone—and to hell with the moon, they must have thought.
"The Seven Seas are unforgiving," Captain Ahab preached. "All of you are here to reach a destination. I promise you that most of you won't. Don't make me come out to solve a meager problem like the mermaids again. I have much more important things to do."
"Please take my soul." The puffing boy crawled closer on hands and knees, wanting to kiss Captain Ahab's boots. "I want to sell my soul to you. Please!"
Captain Ahab scanned the boy for while, amused by his inquiry. He chuckled lightly and kicked him away. Then he glanced at the sack on the floor and back to me. He walked slowly and stared at me for a while. "Is that sack yours?"
I nodded, my tongue dry, my body in full sweat.
"I see you have no splinters in your eyes," he mumbled, but loud enough for only me to hear him. He dragged thoughtfully from his pipe.
I didn't know about the Andersen Mirror then, and I didn't understand why someone would have splinters in their eyes. What kind of splinters?
"What are you doing on my ship?" he said.