which last he did with as little inconvenience to himself as
any man in the barony of Moyferta; and were I to add Clan-
deralaw and Ibrickan, I don’t think I should say wrong.
On the death of Florence Cantillon, Connor Crowe was
determined to satisfy himself about the truth of this story of
the old church under the sea: so when he heard the news of
Among the Mermaids
58
the old fellow’s death, away with him to Ardfert, where Flory
was laid out in high style, and a beautiful corpse he made.
Flory had been as jolly and as rollicking a boy in his day
as ever was stretched, and his wake was in every respect wor-
thy of him. There was all kind of entertainment, and all sort
of diversion at it, and no less than three girls got husbands
there—more luck to them. Everything was as it should be;
all that side of the country, from Dingle to Tarbert, was at
the funeral. The Keen was sung long and bitterly; and, ac-
cording to the family custom, the coffin was carried to Bally-
heigh strand, where it was laid upon the shore,
with a prayer for the repose of the dead.
The mourners departed, one
group after another, and at last Con-
nor Crowe was left alone. He then
pulled out his whiskey bottle, his drop
of comfort, as he called it, which he required, being
in grief; and down he sat upon a big stone that was sheltered
by a projecting rock, and partly concealed from view, to await
with patience the appearance of the ghostly undertakers.
The evening came on mild and beautiful. He whistled an
old air which he had heard in his childhood, hoping to keep
idle fears out of his head; but the wild strain of that melody
brought a thousand recollections with it, which only made
the twilight appear more pensive. “If ’twas near the gloomy
It Moans on Land and Sea
59
tower of Dunmore, in my own sweet country, I was,” said
Connor Crowe, with a sigh, “one might well believe that the
prisoners, who were murdered long ago there in the vaults
under the castle, would be the hands to carry off the coffin
out of envy, for never a one of them was buried decently, nor
had as much as a coffin amongst them all. ’This often, sure
enough, I have heard lamentations and great mourning com-
ing from the vaults of Dunmore Castle; but,” continued he,
after fondly pressing his lips to the mouth of his compan-
ion and silent comforter, the whiskey bottle, “didn’t I know
all the time well enough, ’twas the dismal sounding waves
working through the cliffs and hollows of the rocks, and fret-
ting themselves to foam. Oh, then, Dunmore Castle, it is you
that are the gloomy-looking tower on a gloomy day, with the
gloomy hills behind you; when one has gloomy thoughts on
their heart, and sees you like a ghost rising out of the smoke
made by the kelp burners on the strand, there is, the Lord
save us! as fearful a look about you as about the Blue Man’s
Lake at midnight. Well, then, anyhow,” said Connor, after
a pause, “is it not a blessed night, though surely the moon
looks mighty pale in the face? St. Senan himself
between us and all kinds of harm.”
It was, in truth, a lovely moonlight night;
nothing was to be seen around the dark rocks,
and the white pebbly beach, upon which the sea
Among the Mermaids
60
broke with a hoarse and melancholy murmur. Connor, not-
withstanding his frequent draughts, felt rather queerish, and
almost began to repent his curiosity. It was certainly a sol-
emn sight to behold the black coffin resting upon the white
sand. His imagination gradually converted the deep moan-
ing of old ocean into a mournful wail for the dead, and from
the shadowy recesses of the rocks he imaged forth strange
and visionary forms.
As the night advanced, Connor became weary with
watching. He caught himself more than once in the act of
nodding, when suddenly giving his head a shake, he would
look towards the black coffin. But
the narrow house of death remained
unmoved before him.
It was long past midnight, and
the moon was sinking into the sea,
when he heard the sound of many
voices, which gradually became
stronger, above the heavy and mo-
notonous roll of the sea. He listened, and presently could
distinguish a Keen of exquisite sweetness, the notes of which
rose and fell with the heaving of the waves, whose deep mur-
mur mingled with and supported the strain!
The Keen grew louder and louder, and seemed to ap-
proach the beach, and then fell into a low, plaintive wail. As
It was certainly
a solemn sight to
behold the black
coffin resting upon
the white sand.
It Moans on Land and Sea
61
it ended Connor beheld a number of strange and, in the dim
light, mysterious-looking figures emerge from the sea, and
surround the coffin, which they prepared to launch into the
water.
“This comes of marrying with the creatures of earth,”
said one of the figures, in a clear, yet hollow tone.
“True,” replied another, with
a voice still more fearful, “our king
would never have commanded his
gnawing white-toothed waves to
devour the rocky roots of the is-
land cemetery, had not his daughter,
Durfulla, been buried there by her
mortal husband!”
“But the time will come,” said a third, bending over the
coffin,
“When mortal eye—our work shall spy,
And mortal ear—our dirge shall hear.”
“Then,” said a fourth, “our burial of the Cantillons is at
an end forever!”
As this was spoken the coffin was borne from the beach
by a retiring wave, and the company of sea people prepared
to follow it; but at the moment one chanced to discover
In the dim light,
mysterious-looking
figures emerge
from the sea.
Among the Mermaids
62
Connor Crowe, as fixed with wonder and as motionless with
fear as the stone on which he sat.
“The time is come,” cried the unearthly being, “the time is
come; a human eye looks on the forms of ocean, a human ear
has heard their voices. Farewell to the Cantillons; the sons of
the sea are no longer doomed to bury the dust of the earth!”
One after the other turned slowly round, and regarded
Connor Crowe, who still remained as if bound by a spell.
Again arose their funeral song; and on the next wave they
It Moans on Land and Sea
63
followed the coffin. The sound of the lamentation died away,
and at length nothing was heard but the rush of waters. The
coffin and the train of sea people sank over the old church-
yard, and never since the funeral of old Flory Cantillon
have
any of the family been carried to the strand of Ballyheigh, for
conveyance to their rightful burial-place, beneath the waves
of the Atlantic.
The Practicalities of Piracy
No collection of mermaid romping would be complete with-
out a little piracy!
Blackbeard, the fierce and terrible pirate, was afraid of
his crew being lured into a watery grave by mermaids, so
he ordered his ships to avoid certain areas reputed to have a
high number of mermaid sightings.
Pirates sustained themselves through months on the seas
by imbibing alcohol—lots of it. Alcohol was safer to drink
Among the Mermaids
64
than the “fresh” water the ships carried, which often carried
illnesses and grew slimy from months in wooden barrels. A
favorite alcohol was rum, which was also called grog, the pi-
rates’ drink, kill-devil, demon-water, and Barbados water.
Most of the treasure captured by pirates didn’t last long
enough to get buried. It was spent on gambling, women, and
alcohol. Pirates didn’t wear gold hoop earrings for fashion—
they did so to ensure they could aford a proper burial.
Pirates used nicknames so that government officials
couldn’t persecute their relatives on land.
No Swimming
The world’s largest bioluminescent patch of ocean is the size
of Connecticut and located off the horn of Africa. It wasn’t
discovered until 2005, when a scientist did some detective
work and discovered the glowing area on satellite photos.
Caused by the bacteria
Vibrio harveyi,
this area, called the
milky sea, has long been the subject of rumor and specula-
tion, especially in the sailing world.
65
Mermaids have dozens of names and relatives:
Rusalkos
in
Russia and the Ukraine,
Merrow
in Ireland and Scotland,
Mami Watu
in west and central Africa. Creatures such as
nymphs, sirens, and dryads are often used interchangeably
with mermaids. Selkies are closely associated, as they are
seals that can shed their skin and briefy walk upon dry land
as beautiful women.
The Selkies
From Magical Creatures by Elizabeth Pepper
and Barbara Stacy
Below the chilly waters of the Shetland and Orkney Is-
lands lived the Selkies, strange seal people who inhabited a
CHAPTER
4
S
EAL WITH
A
K
ISS
Among the Mermaids
66
netherworld below the depths of the sea. They were fallen
angels, the Scots believed, banished to the sea for their sins
but allowed human form on dry land. They enjoyed donning
sealskins from head to toe and swimming upward from one
region of air to another, where they shed their soft fur and
sometimes pleasantly encountered mortals.
The strange creatures were extraordinarily beautiful, as
befits angels, and women became wildly enchanted by Selkie
men at a glance. The amorous seal creatures enjoyed making
love to human women and made expeditions to that pur-
pose, but seldom stayed long. Selkies would shed their seal-
skins and come ashore, and any man who saw their pearly
skin and golden hair fell immediately and madly in love. If
he stole the sealskin of his Selkie beloved, she would become
his captive, forced to stay on land and serve him as his sad
wife. Myth has it that Selkies dearly loved their mermaid
cousins, who protected them from being captured by men,
and would dance to the mermaids’ beautiful singing.
Seal with a Kiss
67
Amongst the Selkies
The following entry, though it calls itself “Amongst the Mer-
maids,” is really more directly about selkies. It is a unique
take on the folklore, perhaps because of author Norman
Roe’s mystical side. I happened upon this entry, as well as
“The Selkie That Deud No’ Forget,” while digging around
in two massive volumes of Aleister Crowley’s
The Equinox.
Published originally as ten consecutive volumes between
the years 1909 and 1919,
The Equinox
is a magical journal
published by Crowley, and includes his own A .
.
.
A .
.
.
laws,
rituals, rites, and reviews, as well as
magical works by other important
practitioners. Little is known about
Norman Roe. He wrote
Sam
(1909),
which Crowley reviewed, as well as
Sonnets of Old Things, and Other
Verses
(1919), which seems to be
heavily influenced by his garden.
He’s actually quite a good poet. I can
presume that Crowley’s connection to him was through po-
etry—Crowley, who was once dubbed the “wickedest man
in the world” by early English tabloids, was actually many
things: among them mountaineer, magician, and poet.
Among the Mermaids
68
Amongst the Mermaids
by Norman Roe
“Walk up!” he shouted from the tent door. “Walk up! Walk
up! and see the marvellous mermaid! Only four souls!” It
was at the Gingerbread Fair of Neuilly, and the showman
was a squat little fellow, ridiculously like the gingerbread fig-
ures which his neighbour was selling, and from which the
Fair derives its name.
I admit I did not expect to see a mermaid, but I was tired
of peep-shows and waxworks and fasting men, and there was
something so incongruous in the idea of a mermaid, even an
imaginary one, being exhibited in this rickety booth, by the
light of a naphtha lamp, that, for a moment, I stopped to lis-
ten. The man stood in the doorway, shouting, to attract the
Seal with a Kiss
69
passerby, and there was a picture too, to aid him: the picture
of a wondrous creature with flaxen hair and a hectic flush,
and decked with a silvern tail. I listened to his patter. She
must be a wonderful person, this mermaid: she could swim,
she could eat, and, at times, she could even talk. She was as
large as life, and, by all accounts, she was more than twice as
natural. So, at length, I paid my twopence, and I saw—a seal!
There it lay, at the bottom of a miniature
bear-pit, and with its wistful face and its
great pathetic eyes it really did look quite
as human as the majority of its audience. The
thing was a swindle, I suppose, a fake—and yet,
after all, this Gingerbread showman in this Gingerbread
City was not the first to work the merry cantrip. For wher
-
ever seals are common, be it in our own northern islands or
in further foreign lands, there will these mermaid legends
be wrought around them. Only in Orkney or the Hebrides
&nbs
p; they are most easily garnered, for the language is our own
language. One of the most beautiful of them, when told in
full, is the tale of the Mermaid Wife.
On a moonlight night, as an Orkney fisherman strolled
by the sea-shore, he saw, to his amazement, some beautiful
maidens dancing a saraband on the smooth beach. In a heap
by their side lay a bundle of skins, which, on his approach,
the maidens seized and then plunged with them into the
Among the Mermaids
70
surf, where they took the form of seals. But the fisherman
had managed to snatch up one skin, which lay apart from the
rest, and so one maiden was left behind. Despite her entreat-
ies and her tears, he kept the skin, and she was at last obliged
to follow him to his hut. They married and had many chil-
dren, who were like all other children, except for a thin web
between their fingers, and for years husband and wife lived
at peace. But every ninth night she would steal down to the
beach and talk with one large seal in an unknown tongue,
and then return with saddened countenance. And so the
years passed, until one day, whilst playing in the barn, one
of the children found an old dried skin. He took it to his
mother gleefully, and she, snatching it from him, kissed him
and his brothers and sisters, and then rushed down to the
sea. And the fisherman, when he returned home that eve-
ning, was just in time to see his wife take the form of a seal
and dive into the water. He never saw her again, but some-
times she would call o’nights, as she sported on the shore
with her first husband, who was, of course, the large seal.
That is the story as they tell it to-day in Orkney, and that
is the story as told by Haroun al Raschid. Only, in the “Ara-
bian Nights” it is called “The Melancholy Youth,” and the seal
is replaced by a dove, but all the essentials—the maidens, the
bathing, the skins, the wedding, the fight—remain as they
do to-day.
Seal with a Kiss
71
The seal is well known to be an animal in which the
maternal instinct is abnormally developed, and many of