The Merrow: An Irish Fable

Liam looked out over the calm sea and prepared his nets for the day ahead; the skies looked promising except for some gray, low hanging clouds far out to sea.

“Aye, let this be a good day,” he muttered, “My press is as empty as a scoundrel’s heart.” “Mother,” he looked skyward “could ye see fit to bring me a wee bit of good luck today?” He often spoke thus to his beloved mother who had sung to him as a boy and told wonderful stories of Irish folklore. He was particularly fond of those tales which spoke of the merrow and morgens, enchanted mermaids and sea sprites, who occasionally encountered seafaring folk like themselves.

“Shouldn’t fill the lad’s head with such nonsense.” His da would scold his mother lovingly, “sea life is hard enough.”

“Ah, true,” she’d say, “sea life is difficult, and we haven’t much, but love, ah… love conquers all.”  The stories and his mother’s beautiful singing filled Liam’s heart and built a strong bond between them.

When influenza struck their small village, it took his mother when Liam was in his early teens. The pain of her loss struck the boy and his father hard, but they carried on as best they could. The boy learned the ways of the sea from his father, who passed away himself, only a few years later. His passing left Liam alone in their small cottage by the sea.

  The sea became his life. From his earliest memories he recalled helping his father with their currach, oiling the small fishing boat, repairing nets, preparing bait, studying the clouds for impending weather and the many simple tasks which made possible wresting a simple life from the sea’s bounty. His father had taught him that the sea could be a loving mother, caressing, cool and comforting or as cruel as any childhood fable’s hag, temperamental and threatening, powerful and irascible. 

He set out to sea, ignoring the distant clouds. The storm had come up quickly as many small tempests did in this part of the ocean. A massive school of fish passing his boat had distracted him. He had never seen such a rich array of fish, schools one following another. He had labored fiercely with his nets to keep up, hauling in the catch, one after another. This had gone on for hours. He lost track of time and place, greedily seizing from the sea this unexpected catch. It would be a grand payday ashore.

Finally, he collapsed on the deck of his boat exhausted. Only then did he discover with alarm, how far he had drifted from his customary course. The clouds threatened an ominous storm. In fifteen minutes, the seas rose sharply. The sky begun pelting his small craft with walls of water. Then, from nowhere, a phantom wave lifted his boat like a great hand and dashed it into a deep trough between the waves. He felt his boat tear apart at amidships tumbling him into the sea. That had seemed hours ago. He clung to an empty piece of floating debris and kept afloat with a Herculean effort, part conscious part unconsciously. Liam was finally swept ashore in the night, on one of the small anonymous isles which dotted the sea.   

In the dark, as his senses gradually returned, his focus fell upon his hands and aching limbs. God, I hurt everywhere. Then, Liam was distracted by the sound of music floating faintly in the air. Was that a human voice? It was a high-pitched sound, a cry like that of a child, or was it a song? It seemed like a familiar melody, echoing in the breeze from the darkness of the island beyond.

“Hello, who’s there?” he called. His voice was unintelligible, a croak more than words. In reply, came nothing but the musical sound and the wind. He rolled onto his side and slowly disentangled himself from the rope handle of the locker. His hands, in excruciating pain, twisted this way and that to free himself. The roar of the surf filled his ears and he felt himself slowly ebbing in strength. He knew he could not pass out this close to the sea’s tide. He hauled himself on his elbows and knees laboriously up the beach, the sea sucking at the sand beneath him as he crawled toward the interior of the island, toward the sound he had heard invisible in the darkness.

Finally, exhausted, he lay on dry sand, perhaps only ten yards from the surf, but as far as his strength could carry him. Then, he heard the sound again, a singsong voice drifting to him in the breeze.

“Help me,” a small voice cried, “Mo choimirce, help me, please…”

Liam rolled onto his side, the sand grating against his skin, “Who’s there?” he called.

There was no answer. He crawled another few yards and his hand encountered an object buried in the sand. It was smooth, firm to the touch. Liam traced his fingers along the exterior, feeling an irregularly patterned, textured covering. He found that it extended several feet sideways to his outstretched arm. Beneath the sand, the trunk of the object felt as if it flattened out like a wide tail or a fin. It was like the fin of a great fish. 

The sky was pitch black except for an occasional star winking through the passing clouds. With no moon or light of any kind he tentatively let his hand stray along the object in the opposite direction. As he stretched his hand along the figure, the firm scaly fin merged into soft velvety skin. As his fingers traced the skin from the tail, the form shifted beneath his hand. It was alive!

He felt a shiver as he slid his hand up the skin, realizing it was the back of a woman. Long tresses of silken hair now slid through his fingers. Then the creature spoke.

“Please sir, I beg you, do me no harm. I need only be returned to the sea, which is my home. For this, I will grant you any three wishes your heart may desire.”

Liam was stunned. He momentarily forgot his pain, hunger and thirst. He was spellbound by the sudden realization he had happened upon a live mermaid. Was this one of the merrow his mother had spoken about? He squinted into the pitch blackness but still could see nothing of the creature before him.

“Are you real?” Liam croaked, his voice strained from weakness. “I can’t see you.”

“As real as you are,” the creature replied. Her voice was ethereal, a soothing, mellifluous lilt. “When the dawn breaks, you will find water and sustenance. But before the sun fully emerges I must be returned to the sea. The storm washed me far ashore and I have become trapped on the land. Will you help me?”

Liam, his spirits buoyed by her beautiful voice, responded. “Begorrah. I have little strength after my ordeal, but ‘twill be a pleasure to do as you ask.”

He once again traced his hand along the merrow’s skin and found that her fin had become entangled in the roots of a large trunk of driftwood. He tore at the roots which bound her and after a short struggle he was able to free her.

He didn’t know how he found the strength, but Liam managed to stand. He carefully scooped the merrow up in his arms and carried her back toward the sound of the surf pounding against the shore. He bore her into the sea until he was waist deep and gently let her go.

By now he saw the light shimmering at the horizon as the sun was rising in the eastern sky. Before him was the merrow, swimming and frolicking in the sea, ten or so yards away. Looking at the beach as the light illuminated his surroundings, he saw a small spring of fresh water gently cascading down a rocky elevation. He waded to shore and greedily drank his fill, feeling strength return to his body.

“I have promised you three wishes to repay your kindness and that shall be your reward,” the merrow sang as she called up to Liam, now languishing on the sand.

“Well, to be safely home to my friends and simple cottage, that would be my first wish,” Liam replied with a smile.

“That you shall have,” she replied sweetly “and what else would you want?”

“Well, I suppose, to be rich and successful beyond my wildest dreams, to own anything my heart desires,” he laughed. “Is that not what every man dreams?”

“Done,” she responded with a smile, “And your final wish?”

Liam looked at the merrow, who now in the dawn of the brightening sky was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. Her pale skin shone in the gathering light and her sea green tresses bobbed on the water’s surface.

“I have no wife, with whom to share these things,” Liam began. “For my third wish, I want you to come with me, to my home, be my lifelong love and companion. This would bring me the greatest joy.”

           The creature looked at him sadly. “The first two wishes I can grant, but a union between man and merrow can never be. We are from separate worlds and are meant to be of different forms.”

“Nonsense!” Liam insisted “Love can conquer all, m’ ma always told me. You will be my wife and be cast in human form. That is my heart’s desire!”

“Very well,” the mermaid replied, in her soft, lilting voice.

Liam opened his eyes. He found himself lying in bed, rich satin sheets and fine linens covering him. About him he recognized his simple fisherman’s cottage, but now transformed. Everywhere he looked he saw piles of gold coins and jewels and the finest furnishings he could imagine. He was home and wealthy beyond imagination! Then his bedroom door opened and the merrow, now a beautiful woman, cloaked in rich, luxurious raiment, entered the room.

“Good morning, husband,” she sang sweetly, in that voice he heard in his dreams, “I hope you are feeling well. How shall we spend this fine day? Perhaps, down by the seashore?”

“My wonderful, loving wife. Nothing would please me more. Let us first breakfast and then celebrate our new life together.”

Liam’s heart swelled with joy and wonder at his good fortune. He threw aside his covers and bent to swing his legs over the bedside. Only then did he realize, that below his waist he bore a long, silver scaly fin, which twitched gently as he beheld it.