Christmas and Mermaids

In the winter of 05/06 I spent two months living on a 35-foot Pearson sloop named High Cotton (a sailboat, and the fact that the company that made it was the same as my last name is a coincidence – to avoid any confusion) with my father, Frank, and my good friend and nautical subordinate, Eric. The trip, which I will likely write more about later, was epic.

On one of the last legs of our voyage Eric and I (Frank had flown back to St Simon’s Island, Georgia, in the U.S., to deal with work) were heading back up from George Town towards Nassau. We were trying to make it back to the Major/Seymour House, good family friends, to spend Christmas among loved-ones and to see the Bahamian celebration Junkanoo (a colorful Christmas and New Year’s Parade, we only caught the later).

High Cotton in her natural habitat.

The Exumas, a Bahamian island chain, have some of the prettiest waters in the world, I mean really gorgeous. The sail was going great despite loosing some of the boat’s instrumental functions; the fathometer (water depth reader) for example, had hit the fritz on this leg of the trip. Luckily, because it was a passage we had navigated south, the return trip north was cake. As we made it to the north of the Exumas, about ready to pop across 70 kilometers of open sea to Nassau, we started getting bad-weather warnings. We knew if we anchored now we might not make it to the Major/Seymour’s for Christmas… so we pressed on north. The clouds started to darken to the point where we accepted that we had to find shelter, anchoring at Norman’s Cay (it turns out they filmed part of Blow with Johnny Depp there) with a few other boats. The near deserted island was our home for the next couple days, spending Christmas drinking rum in our shorts and Santa hats, listening to the same Christmas album over and over again. Further, the weather was rainy and windy, not permitting us even to go ashore…. So we waited.

One night, we woke up to violent shaking. Sea swells were hitting perpendicular to the boat. As we came to the deck we saw we were turned at a 90 degree angle compared to the other boats (usually an anchored boat points towards the wind, with the anchor led off the front of the boat). The ultimate conclusion we came to was that we weren’t shallow enough, and that the inlet we were anchored in was a channel for a current running between two islands; the deeper current was turning us sideways while the wind-made waves were pounding our sides. We decided to re-anchor. Re-anchoring at night is dangerous and not in the least bit fun. I was at the helm while Eric was on the bow trying to pull up the anchor (we didn’t have an anchor winch, we used all man-muscle). He was having some trouble, and at one point started yelling something like a crazy man. The wind was howling and I couldn’t here a word. However, being at the helm I couldn’t move; and since I could see he was all right, I decided to stay put and steer the boat. Eventually, we got the anchor up and I moved us into shallower water out of the current, and Eric re-dropped the anchor.

Apparently, this is what happened: Eric saw a mermaid. He was pulling up the anchor rope/chain, but he said the resistance wasn’t steady; it was jerky. At first he just thought the anchor was dragging along the bottom occasionally snagging and giving it a jerk-like sensation. This wasn’t what was happening though, the jerks became increasingly abrupt, as if someone were yanking the rope from the bottom. Becoming confused and frustrated he set his legs and gave a hefty pull, standing on the edge of the boat. It was then that he saw, hanging on the chain, a little, creepy-as-hell looking mermaid. His mighty pull had brought it close enough to the surface to where he could see it with the boat’s deck lights a meter or so deep in the water. Eric describes it as a child’s size, skinny and ragged looking; something between a fish and a person; with wirey hair, large eyes and a small, evil looking mouth. He saw it from above so he didn’t get a good look at its lower half, but its upper half was human-like, with arms and a head. Eric and the mermaid made eye contact before the mermaid let go of the change and plummeted back down into the darkness. Eric easily pulled up the chain after that.

He recounts this story very well, I’d recommend to everyone to hear it from him in person if you get the chance. It is one of my favorite campfire stories. Nowadays, Eric plays down the significance of his experience by offering various scientific explanations (psssh…science), or disclaiming that he was drunk and sleep-deprived, but I know deep in his heart he believes in mermaids.

Post-script: Eric now resides in the University of California San Diego Psychiatric wing, where professors monitor his progress. We all pray for his quick return.