Wave after wave rose and fell in every direction as far as the eye could see. Most of those waves were relatively calm and placid in their motions but a few broke with white, frothing tops. Most people on The Solstice Dream were the sailors themselves and they hardly took any notice, it seemed, to the view surrounding the boat. Hetta, who spent most of her free time sitting as near to the railing as she could manage, could hardly take her eyes off the ever moving scene. That was in part because whenever she did look away she found herself becoming increasingly seasick. For some reason, looking out at the moving ocean lessened the discomfort in her stomach. She had thought at first that if she could just ignore the fact that they were moving, her stomach would forget as well but she had been wrong in that assumption. So now she sat on the simple stool, watching the waves shrink into the horizon.

“Be careful,” more than one of the sailors had warned her, “ye don’t want ter be fallin’ overboard.”

Even the captain, when he learned Hetta was spending so much time above deck, and sitting beside the rail no less, came over to check on her.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a spot below decks?” he asked. “There’s a few portholes you could look out from and I’m sure they’d work just fine in keeping your stomach calm.”

“I’ve already tried looking out of those, captain, and I was just as sick as before,” was her reply.

The captain nodded and then repeated the same warning about not falling overboard as the other sailors had and then left her in peace. She’d commissioned this voyage, after all, and so the captain and crew were more accommodating to her than she thought would be usual. They were heading to a small collection of islands so she could study the wildlife there.

“Honestly,” she muttered to herself, “do they just expect people to throw themselves into the water?” It had taken her years to collect the funds necessary to finance the voyage and she wasn’t going to waste them by casting herself overboard for no good reason.

Hetta had no great love for the water. She’d never learned to swim, though that was hardly uncommon. She’d found that most of the sailors on board didn’t know how to swim either. She supposed that made some sense. The sailors job was, after all, focused on keeping them and everything else on board out of the sea.

Something breached the water not that far from the ship. She’d seen whales breaching already during the voyage and at first that’s what she thought this was. However, the thing that breached the water was too small to be any sort of whale she’d seen before.

“Perhaps it was a large fish?” she wondered aloud.

“Eh?” a passing sailor asked, thinking Hetta had been addressing him.

“Oh, sorry, I just saw something breach the water over there and I was wondering if it was a fish.”

“T’aint naught in these waters ‘ere ma’am,” the sailor said with a shake of his head. “These is dead waters.”

“Well I saw something breach the water over there,” she said, pointing, “so there must be something there.”

The sailor looked towards where she pointed, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun on the water.

“Nah,” he said at last, “nothin’ there now anyway.”

With that he continued on his way to finish whatever task he’d been working on before getting distracted by Hetta. She turned back to watching the water.

“What did he mean by dead water?”

She often spoke to herself when there was no one else to converse with. She’d spent so much of her growing up alone and speaking to herself that she often found herself doing it even when there were other people nearby. Those who knew her thought of it as nothing more than a funny peculiarity and those who didn’t know her usually thought she was talking to them and so didn’t really notice it.

The thing she’d seen before breached the water again and Hetta stared in disbelief.

“It…it…it,” she stammered as she struggled to find the right words. “It had a head!” She gasped at last.

She looked around to see if anyone else had seen it but all of the sailors were working with their heads down to keep the glare of the sun out of their eyes.

“You there!” Hetta shouted upon spotting the sailor from before who had told her the waters here were dead.

A few sailors looked up and Hetta had to point to the one she wanted. The others went back to their labors whereas the sailor she was pointing to sighed wearily before sauntering over to her. They’d been ordered to help and assist her

“And what be ye wantin’ now?” He asked.

“I just saw it again,” Hetta said, pointing out towards the water, “it breached and it had a head!”

The sailor glanced back out towards the water and then back to Hetta.

“Well, ma’am,” he began uncertainly, “most things in the seas has heads.”

“No,” Hetta clapped her hands down onto her lap in frustration, “I mean it had a human head!”

The sailor stared at her in obvious disbelief and concern.

“Is you maybe getting’ too much sun?” He asked and began to move his hand over towards her forehead as if to check if she was feverish.

“I’m just fine, thank you very much!” Hetta exclaimed and brushed aside his approaching hand. “Now I understand it’s quite impossible for a person to be out there just swimming about and so I would like you to explain to me what I’ve just seen.”

Again, the sailor stared at her, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to find his words.

“I’m not sure, ma’am,” he began at last. “These waters is dead. Naught in them but deep water, all the way down.”

“What do you mean by ‘dead waters’?” Hetta asked.

“I means there be nothin’ alive in them, ma’am,” the sailor explained. “No fish comes this far out in the deep, least ways none I’s ever seen, nor heard tell of neither.”

Hetta turned back towards the sea and searched for the thing she’d seen breaching before.

“You will sit here with me,” Hetta instructed, “and watch until it breaches again.”

It was obvious from his expression what he thought of this arrangement, but a quick glance over his shoulder towards the captain, who had been watching them and who gave the sailor a curt nod, silenced any of the sailors protests. He went off and found himself another stool and sat himself down beside Hetta without a word.

Together they sat and watched and waited. For Hetta, it seemed that every second was a minute. She had to get a second witness for what she’d seen and then to learn what it was. Surely, this sailor would know it once he’d seen it. As for the head of it looking so human, Hetta was sure there was some explanation for it.

“What is your name?” Hetta asked after some time to ease the awkwardness she was beginning to feel.

“Lars,” he replied.

“And how long have you been a sailor?”

“Since I were seven.”

He didn’t look particularly young to Hetta, though even the youngest of the sailors she’d met already had wrinkles and lines on their skin from their time at sea. Something to do with the effects of salt water and sun, she thought.

“How old are you now?” Hetta asked.

“Do ye want me ter look fer your fish?” Lars asked, “or do ye want ter chat? I’s not gonna be doin’ both.”

Hetta wilted slightly back into her stool.

“I’m sorry,” Hetta apologized. “Please continue looking.”

Lars grunted and leaned forward, crossing his forearms onto the rail and resting his chin on top of them.

“Was it a fish, though?” Hetta thought aloud. “I suppose there’s fish that large, but I thought it’s tail was far more like that of a whale.”

“Is we talkin’ or is we watchin’?” Lars grumbled.

“I wasn’t talking,” Hetta said, “I was just thinking to myself.”

“Well in my experience,” Lars replied, “If’n I’s hearin’ you, you is talkin’.”

“What I meant,” Hetta began, but at that moment the water was breached for the third time. “There!” She cried out, though Lars was already looking right at it.

It was much nearer now to the boat and did not submerge as quickly as before. It distinctly had a face resembling that of a person, though whether it was male or female was impossible to determine. The head was entirely bald and the nose, though similar to a human’s, was not as pronounced. The eyes were also further apart than would have been normal for a human. It turned and looked at Hetta and Lars as it swam along side the boat, then it rolled over and dove back down below the surface of the water.

“What…what was that?” Hetta gasped from the excitement.

“T’was an omen,” Lars said darkly. “Them’s is those who’s ships went down in the dead water, and now they shows up to lead others who’re goin’ into the depths.”

“I don’t understand,” Hetta frowned. “They’re here to guide us?”

“Aye,” Lars said, still more ominously than before. “They’s here to lead us to the bottom of the sea.”

Hetta stood up at that remark. She knew sailors could be superstitious at times but she couldn’t ignore the seriousness with which he was treating the situation.

“I think we ought to notify the captain of what we’ve seen,” Hetta said, though for her it was out of a desire to get a more probable explanation than Lars’.

“S’bad luck spreadin’ word of seeing such things,” Lars told her. “If they don’t see it, they’s got a chance of survivin’.”

Hetta had had enough of Lars at this point and so turned and began making her way along the ship towards where the captain stood. Lars hesitated a moment and then hurried after her.

“You leave the captain out of this,” Lars warned her. “You’ll only be addin’ his life ter your fate. I’m already tied in with ye and it’s not right ter be addin’ any more!”

Hetta ignored him and continued forward. Lars was actually beginning to frighten her, the way he was acting, so afraid and angry, that she worried he might do something to her if she didn’t get the captain involved.

“Now look ‘ere!” Lars shouted and he grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her about to face him. Hetta cried out in shock and tried to bat him away, smacking him across the face and arms.

“Let me go!” She cried out, “You have no right to handle me in this manner!”

The other sailors in the deck took notice and quickly moved in to pry them apart. Lars fought them all like a wild animal and Hetta was not the only one who watched him with awe and horror.

“She’s doomed the ship!” Lars shouted like a madman while his fellow sailors piled on top of him to hold him down. “Don’t let her speak or she’ll bring you all down with her!”

Without warning, a club came down and smacked Lars on the head. There was a sickening crunch and Lars went still. Blood immediately began running down his face from where he’d been hit. Hetta looked up and saw that it was the captain who had struck the blow.

“Take him below,” the captain ordered, “and see to he wounds. He’s not to be left alone and see that he’s bound, hand and foot.”

The sailors obeyed and soon they and Lars were out of sight below decks. Hetta was still breathing hard and shaking slightly from the ordeal and the captain motioned for her to follow him. She did so without questioning and he led her to his cabin. He offered her a seat and she took it gratefully. He poured her a drink and set it on a small table before her before sitting himself down opposite her.

“We’re about a week or so from reaching the islands,” the captain said in casual tones. “This stretch of ocean tends to be rather uneventful, but sometimes sailors can get somewhat excited over the lack of anything else happening.”

Hetta nodded absently while she sipped her drink.

“I’m sorry Lars handled you so roughly, and that you had to see him in such a state.”

Again, Hetta only nodded.

“Tell me,” the captain went on, “what was it that upset him like that?”

“I’d seen something breaching the water,” Hetta explained, her voice sounding hollow in her ears, “and I asked him to help me identify what it was.”

“Yes,” the captain said, “I saw that much. Was he upset by the request?”

“No, it was…” Hetta trailed off.

“Go on,” the captain prodded.

“It had the face of a person,” Hetta explained, “and Lars said it was an omen. Something about other ships that had sunk and that they were coming to lead us…lead us to the bottom of the ocean.”

“I see,” the captain said with a frown. “There’s not usually much out here in this part of the ocean, though occasionally sailors will see something.”

“Do you know what it was that we saw?” Hetta asked, unable to ignore the captains discomfort.

For a while the captain said nothing. Instead, he looked out one of the windows in his cabin as though deep in thought. Hetta followed his gaze and saw, on the distant horizon, a thin line of dark clouds.

“Storm’s been following us all day,” the captain muttered. “I was hoping to outrun it, but it seems to be getting blown here by a different wind than what we’re using.”

“You don’t believe Lars, do you?” Hetta asked with growing concern. “I mean, we’ve passed through storms before on our voyage and been just fine.”

“Lars doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” the captain said abruptly. “If every ship and sailor who ever saw those things went down to the depths then who would there be to tell their tale?”

“Of course,” Hetta agreed with relief.

“However,” the captain went on and Hetta felt her stomach begin to turn. “Those creatures are known to frequent areas where ships are known to go down. I don’t personally think they are the cause of those ships sinking, but it doesn’t provide much comfort.”

“Have you ever seen them?” Hetta asked.

“I have,” the captain admitted after a brief pause. “I was a young cabin boy then, and saw a few of them breaching the waves the day before our ship went down in a storm. We had been sailing as part of an armada and so I and a few of the others were able to be rescued. While we were floating on the bits of wreckage we’d found, awaiting rescue, I saw those things skimming the surface all around us.”

“Did they attack any of you?” Hetta asked as terrible images of those human faced creatures grabbing sailors and dragging them under came to her mind.

“No,” the captain said, “they seemed more interested in the debris in the water. Whether they thought it was food, or perhaps they’re intelligent enough to recognize goods and materials they might use in some underwater society is beyond my knowledge. But they left us alone. By the time the other ships had come around to collect us, the creatures were gone.”

Hetta finished her drink and set down her cup. Her stomach was already growing unsteady and she looked out the window in an effort to stave off the sickness that was brewing. The captains windows, being higher up than the portholes below, provided a far better view and she was relieved to feel her stomach calming somewhat.

“Do you think we’re likely to have trouble from the approaching storm?”

“Whether we do or whether we don’t,” the captain began, “I think the real issue is how the rest of the crew will view Lars and his outburst following the storm, and more especially how they’ll view you.”

“You don’t think they’d blame me for the storm?” Hetta asked.

“Sailors can be a superstitious lot,” the captain admitted.

“I’ll be alright, though, won’t I?”

“I’ll make it clear to them that you have nothing to do with the storm,” the captain assured her, “but I can’t compel them to believe me. I know you don’t do so well below decks but it might be best if you avoid coming above decks for a while. Once the sailors see that we’re clear of the storm and that nothing serious has happened to us, then they’ll forget all about Lars and his ravings.”

Hetta nodded and the captain stood, motioning for her to do the same. Hetta rose and he led her back out of his cabin.

“I’m confident that all of this will be forgotten and over in just a few days,” the captain said as Hetta made her way down towards the hatch that would let her down below decks.

She did not relish the idea of spending the next few days down there in the dark and feeling so incredibly sick, but she also didn’t want to see how the rest of the crew might react to her. Up until now, the crew had mostly viewed her as an oddity, a strange woman who wanted to go and study the plants and animals on some far off island.

Once below decks, Hetta made her way to her cabin and shut herself in. She knew it was only a matter of time before her nausea set in and so she made herself a simple meal from the loaf of bread and wedge of cheese that she kept. Better to eat now while she still could and hopefully she’d be able to keep it down.

That night, the storm battered terribly against the boat. Even without the seasickness she doubted she would have been able to sleep. All night long the ship pitched back and forth and the garbled shouts of the sailors above carried through the wail of the wind and driving rain. With every creak and shudder from the boat, Hetta half expected the ship to crack asunder and for the cold ocean water to rush in, enveloping her, and for her to feel cold hands grabbing her and dragging her down.

As it was, the morning dawned dim and gray and the storm continued to rage on. Looking out the porthole in her cabin she could see the mountain waves crashing down all around the boat. In the midst of all the white foam and torrential rain, Hetta spotted a face among the waves. At first she thought it was one of those things she and Lars had spotted, but then she realized it was a normal human face. One of the ship’s sailors had gone overboard.

The sailor looked as though he were trying to swim back towards the ship but his movements were labored and uncoordinated. He must have been exhausted from working through the night, and he lacked the strength to make it very far. Before too long, he sunk beneath the waves and did not resurface. Hetta watched that spot on the ocean for some time, feeling somehow responsible for that man’s untimely death. She wondered who it had been, whether it was one of the sailors she had spoken with before and whether the other sailors would blame her for his death.

Another face appeared in the water, and then another, and another. Before long there were dozens of them and they were all looking directly at Hetta. What was more, these were not the face of sailors. These were the faces of those things she and Lars had seen the day before. They swam together in a group, and unlike the sailor she’d seen before, they moved easily and powerfully through the churning water until they were so near to the boat that Hetta had to strain against the porthole to be able to see them.

One of them raised a hand out of the water as though beckoning to Hetta. Seeing them so close she could make out that their skin was in fact made of dull scales. They didn’t shine like those of a fish but she could plainly see that they were segmented like a fishes scales instead of smooth like a person’s skin.

“No,” Hetta gasped, unable to believe what she was seeing. “We’ll ride out the storm and they’ll go away.”

She slumped down onto her bed in the vain hopes of calming both her stomach and her mind. Even still she could almost feel those strange faces in the water staring toward where she lay. A dull knocking sounded of a fist rapping against wood and Hetta hoped it was someone bringing her the morning meal, though given the storm she hadn’t been expecting such things. She got up, avoiding looking at the porthole, and opened her cabin door. There was no one there. Again the knocking came and she realized it was coming from outside the ship.

“They’re knocking on the hull!” Hetta exclaimed under her breath and she rushed out of her cabin. She had to find the captain, tell him what was going on. He had to know how to deal with this situation, that was what being captain was all about.

As soon as she pushed her way above decks she was assaulted by the wind and the spray. Salt water stung in her eyes and the cold bit down into her bones but she pushed passed all of that. She had to find the captain. Sailors were busy all around her but none of them seemed to spare her any mind. There were busy enough as it was without having to deal with her. Hetta stumbled and slipped as she made her way towards the captains cabin. That’s where he would be, she figured. All the while she could still feel those faces in the water watching her, and from time to time she thought she caught a glimpse of them in the waves around her, watching.

At last she reached the captain’s cabin and she pushed the door open, not bothering to knock. Inside, as Hetta had assumed, she found the captain. He was standing with his back to the door, looking out the window towards the sea. There was a strange solemnness about him and his posture that gave Hetta pause.

“Close the door and come in, Hetta,” the captain said without turning to look at her.

Hetta did as instructed and moved to stand beside the captain. She didn’t want to look out the window but knew it was pointless to ignore it. She looked and gasped at what she saw.

“Lars spent all night raving that they were come for him,” the captain spoke in a hollow voice. “He demanded that he be thrown overboard and, after his third attempted escape from his bonds, we let him go.”

Hetta couldn’t speak. She was mesmerized by the sight out the window. Dozens upon dozens of those strange things swam after the boat, keeping pace with it, rising and falling with the waves. One of them would beckon to them from time to time.

“I’ve felt their call before,” the captain admitted, “many times during storms or battles, but never have I heeded them.”

“I think they feel us too,” Hetta said. “They came knocking on the hull beside my cabin. They seemed to know I was there.”

“Yes, such strange creatures,” the captain said and he did not sound like himself.

“I saw a sailor go overboard this morning,” Hetta said, for lack of anything else to say or do while they watched the creatures in the sea. “Was that Lars?”

“Maybe,” the captain said “though a few other men have gone overboard so it could have been one of them.”

“How terrible!” Hetta pressed her hands to her face as she thought of those poor sailors.

“I am in a difficult position,”the captain still spoke in a foreign voice she’d never heard him use before. Normally he was so certain, yet now he sounded like a frightened child seeking comfort. “I have heard that these creatures bring storms and ill fortune with them. If that is true, and they are beckoning to us, then I must wonder if by giving ourselves up to them they would leave the rest of the ship and her crew alone. I didn’t tell you before, but that first time I saw these things, while floating in the ocean they came and beckoned to me and the others as they do to you and I now. Many of my companions followed those creatures and sank beneath the waves.”

Hetta couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “If that were the case,” she said, “then why have you been able to escape so many other supposed encounters with their storms or ill fortune? I think it far more likely that they simply follow the storms and have found superstitious sailors easy prey.”

“Perhaps,” the captain agreed, “though how do you explain them knowing where we are, their ability to find us wherever we go in the ship? I knew you were coming here even before you arrived because I could see a group of them watching the ship and moving this way. When you burst in, the were already looking to where you stood in my doorway.”

“Well I’m not just going to give myself up to them,” Hetta declared. “Have we got any pistols or rifles on board? A cannon? Anything we might be able to use to send these terrible things away?”

“This is an expeditionary voyage,” the captain told her, “as such we don’t have any such weapons on board.”

“Then find me a sailor with a good throwing arm and whatever heavy or sharp objects he can aim at their faces!”

The captain actually turned away from the window at that and appraised her.

“You honestly don’t think it worth the chance,” he asked, “to save the ship by sacrificing ourselves?”

“We don’t even know yet if the ship will sink.”

“It already is,” the captain said. “The waves are pouring more water into us than we can pump out. We have, perhaps, another hour or two before we’re too low in the water to be able to keep the ship pointed into the waves. When that happens, she’ll be turned whatever way the winds blow her and, eventually, we’ll be broadsided by a wave large enough to drag us under.”

Hetta gaped at him, but now that she looked, she could indeed see that the ship was running low in the water.

“Come,” the captain said and he held out his hand for her to take, “I don’t know if it’s death that awaits us, or else some other mysterious fate. Lars believed he would be transformed into one of those things. Perhaps he knew more than either of us gave him credit.”

Hetta did not take his hand and, after waiting a few moments, he shrugged and withdrew it. He stepped forward and opened the large windows, allowing the wind and the rain to blast through his quarters.

“Good bye,” he said before Hetta could stop him and he let himself fall out and down into the water below.

Dozens of the creatures dove down after him and though Hetta watched and waited, none of them resurfaced. And yet still there were those who watched her and held out their hands to her. Outside she could hear the sailors still shouting and scrambling about as they worked furiously to keep the ship afloat. There was exhaustion and desperation in those voices, as well as the occasional note of panic, and yet still they fought on against the elements.

“I’m doomed if I stay,” Hetta said to herself as she approached the still-open window and looked don to the dark waters below, “and I’m doomed if I go.”

She looked about the captains cabin, hoping against hope that he had been wrong, or lying, when he said there were no weapons on board but she saw nothing that would prove useful.

“What are you?” Hetta tried to call out to them but the noise of the storm drowned out her feeble attempt. Still, she tried. “What do you want with me?”

They didn’t seem to notice her cries as they continued, unchanged, in their watchful gaze and invitations to join them.

At last Hetta could take it no more and before she could think any further and convince herself against her course of action, she threw herself out the window. The world spun around her as she tumbled through the air. The water, when she struck it, proved to be far harder and colder than she had expected. At first she tried to find which way was up but firm hands were all about her, taking her by the wrist, ankle, shoulders, and just about everywhere else they were able to grasp, and they began leading her away. Her head was the only part of her that they didn’t command and she turned it about trying to see what was going on around her. At last she spied the surface of the water and she was unsurprised to realize that she was being taken away from there. What did surprise her was that the waves were suddenly growing calm. The sky was clearing and she could even see the sun coming out and casting the boat into sharp relief.

At least they’ll be safe, Hetta thought, unable to speak underwater as she was, and waited patiently as she could while the strange creatures surrounding her with their almost human faces pulled her deeper into the murky depths of the dead waters.