The Siren

                    “She’s just sixteen years old, leave her alone they said…”

THE SIREN

Mr. Harris’ English class assembled at the bell. There was a thin paperback placed on each desk with a sailing ship on its cover. Mr. Harris sat straight-backed wearing a tartan vest out of charity to whoever had given it to him. Among teachers he was one of the most respected by students, in fact he had just diffused a fistfight in the last period by dropping to one knee in the middle of it, and was back at his desk. When they were all seated he stood up and opened his own copy with a snap.

“Good morrow everyone.” a smile creased his face. “If you open your eyes all the way you’ll see I’ve given you each a copy of ‘The Siren’ by Esther Jacobson. This story takes place during the Golden Age of Piracy, does anyone know when that was?”

He looked at half-slouched faces around the room.

“If you’ll turn to the back cover there’s a synopsis…” he was saying, but then the door opened and she entered the room. Everyone in the school knew the name of Simmons West, although they did not know she was the exact spitting image of her mother. Mr. Harris looked away; the resemblance was so uncanny it made him nervous, but their eyes had met for a moment like two spirits trapped in some incompatible form. She wore a powder blue dress shirt on which she dusted an apple which she placed on his desk and then took her seat with a swish of her skirt.

“Um, where was I?” he collected himself. “The synopsis, would anyone like to read it for us?”

Simmons’ hand shot up first but he picked a young man in the back row to avoid showing favoritism, then he went back behind the desk as if he was hiding from something.

“Lord Buchanan is a young nobleman dispatched to greet the late arrival of a ship that went missing during a voyage in the Pacific. He has to relate the death of the Earl of Monteith to his son Charles who is first mate and his childhood friend. The ship arrives without its captain; a coffin is on the quarterdeck as it comes into port.”

“An interesting beginning isn’t it?” Mr. Harris said. “If you can imagine it’s 1701 and a sailing ship that has been missing has returned. Read on please.”

“Buchanan learns that the captain is dead and the first mate missing, but the crew refuses to say why or even speak his name. Apparently there was an argument during which the captain was stabbed and died from his wounds. The first mate was set adrift by his own insistence near a tiny unnamed island. When asked why he was not detained under maritime law, Buchanan learns that the first mate did something ‘against nature’ which they are forbidden to say, which caused the ship to anchor for three days. He asks various sources and there is no agreement on what the reason might be.”

“So this is the chapter you will read tonight.” Mr. Harris continued. “Any thoughts? What do you think is the answer to this mystery?”

They ruminated until someone suggested the first mate had a gay relationship with someone.

“Interesting theory, but even a relationship between two men was not unknown among sailors.” Mr. Harris said curiously. “Anyone else?”

Simmons’ hand went up.

“Yes Miss West?” he called her by her mother’s name without realizing it.

“There is no right or wrong answer, am I correct?” she said thoughtfully. “I mean you don’t want to have a mystery solved in the first chapter.”

Her wisdom brought the discussion to a halt. Mr. Harris simply said “Very good” and had the class begin reading as he sat down sweating at his desk again.

He was a student himself once and the beautiful Miss West was a person who turned listless boys into scholarly men. He did not know her daughter was taking this class or the remarkable woman she had become. Suddenly he was presented with the opportunity of knowing his lifelong friend as a young pupil before they met and being her mentor. It was not a physical attraction in any way; in fact he wanted to protect her from everything in this school.

At the end of class Simmons stayed behind as she always did, standing there until he was forced to look at her.

“The way you broke up that fight this morning was so… honorable.” she put her hand on her heart.

“It was just a practical response to the situation.” he replied honestly. “People are too often demonized for having emotions.”

“What do you mean?” she leaned closer.

“When a student erupts in anger it’s often a sign of innocence.” he explained. “The person pointing the finger is often the villain hiding behind a veneer of civility, probably because they have something to gain from it. For example if someone had dealt with that situation by punishing them is that not also violence? If I’m the ‘behavioral police’ then I should try to resolve things with forgiveness, do you see?”

“I’ve never heard that before.” she admired him. “I’ve only heard that violent people are bad. So you’re saying civility can go too far as well?”

He only realized what he had said once it came out.

“You may think I’m hotcakes now but when you have a boyfriend I will be old news.” he attempted to change gears.

“Ugh, boyfriends?” Simmons rolled her eyes. “Now there’s a subject I’ve never given a second thought. I am a student, I have my brain to satisfy me so enlightenment will never be dead and these classics will live forever!” She dropped three books on the desk.

Mr. Harris started to rise from his seat in apology. He didn’t have ten students put together who felt this way about literature. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll see you after classes.” she smiled, and left with a flip of her hair.

Why did she have to do that? He was a rational person; there had to be a solution to this. He knew what a cruel man would do. He balled up a piece of paper in his fist and hung his head.

2

1^st of May 1701-

The young Lord Buchanan arrived at the port of Lyme Regis where he demanded to be taken to high ground where he could see the Channel. He had known his friend Charles since they were schoolboys and since that time had become a man of responsibility. The carriage took him to a high hill overlooking the sea, and indeed there the ship was, still several miles out. With a spyglass he could see the seamen on board, and there was a solitary coffin in the center of the upper deck where the captain would normally be standing.

He rode hastily down to the harbor, but the first men off the gangway were six grim-faced sailors carrying the coffin itself. Not one of them would say a word to him, so he went aboard but Charles was not there.

He pressed them but the crew only looked at him with great sadness. The log which Buchanan read for himself ended on the day they left Tierra del Fuego in the Pacific for home, with no mention of anything unusual in its entire contents. It was as if they had all sworn an oath to go to their graves with this secret.

In desperation Buchanan had the entire crew rounded up and questioned, saying he would have to go searching for Charles himself.

“No!” a tired sailor’s eyes widened with a look of concern. “For God’s sake do not go back there!”

He pried out of the man that there was a disagreement during which the captain was accidentally stabbed with his own knife. Charles was so mortified he was marooned by his own choosing on a tiny nameless island they had discovered. Buchanan’s face went white when he heard this.

“Where is the island!” he grabbed the old sailor by the throat. “And what reason has my friend been slighted this way? You name the crime for which he has lost his honor or I will split you!”

“It doesn’t have a name!” he choked until his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Mr. Harris stopped reading and put the book down. The conversation in the faculty break room was becoming a distraction.

“There was another arrest for a teacher-student relationship on the news.” Mrs. Tabor was saying. “Why are there always such unchristian people in our ranks, is it because their beliefs are just meaningless?”

Mr. Harris got up and walked out of the room. He had to stop against a wall because his heart was beating out of his chest. But he was a Christian. As he turned to go down the hall there she was again. It was impossible to avoid her.

When Simmons came to see him after school Mr. Harris looked unwell and she immediately asked him what was wrong.

“I have a problem I need a solution for.” he said carefully. “I don’t know why I didn’t bring it to you sooner since you’re the smartest person I could ask.”

“Well whatever it is you know I will help.” she said innocently, sitting down side-saddle in the chair.

“There are people who think you and I have a relationship.” he managed to say.

“But we do have a relationship.” she gave a surprising answer.

“I mean there are people who think we are too friendly.” he elaborated.

“Who are these people?” she was astonished.

“Mostly faculty.” he answered her. “They don’t understand how two people can be brought together in a professional setting just by goodness and common interests. I suppose because they’ve never known it themselves.”

“I didn’t know there were people on the faculty like that.” she looked disillusioned. “I just assumed they were respectable or they wouldn’t be here.”

“I know, I know.” he was forced to backtrack. “The point is there are rules that exist for a student’s protection and we don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

“But you just said those people are wrong.” he realized this conversation had taken a wrong turn. “You have moral authority. I need you to protect me from them.”

“It’s true that social rules and virtue don’t always go hand-in-hand.” he conceded. “There is such a thing as a moral anarchist I suppose.”

“So what if you’re moral and smart and you don’t want to follow certain rules?” she asked a question that was more provocative than she realized.

“People like that have to be extraordinarily self-sufficient just to meet their own needs.” he tried his best.

“But I do have everything I need.” she reasoned. “I have you!”

He swallowed, keeping to himself the rest of what he planned to say.

“Then we’ll keep our feelings to ourselves.” he lowered his voice. “Our friendship is strong, we’ll do whatever it takes to succeed.”

Simmons’ thoughts were a complete mystery to him.

“That story we’re reading, it’s not ‘safe’ reading is it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he responded.

“There’s tension in it. I mean if you’re going to write a story make it relevant. Conflict, that’s the word. Conflict is relevant.”

He rose from his chair. It was too much of a joy and an exasperation watching her mind work, he could not allow her to learn the dark underbelly of human nature. And he couldn’t cut her loose with some excuse she would never believe. She knew that he loved her.

                    “It’s like having a dream where nobody has a heart.”

3

Young Lord Buchanan arranged passage for himself to the South Seas. If there was a chance his lifelong friend was still living he had to pursue it. The general opinion of the crew was that Charles was considered a “Jonah”, a man who did something that brought a curse on the vessel.

Seventy days into the voyage he saw the shores of the beautiful Tierra del Fuego archipelago. Buchanan met the governor himself and explained his predicament. The man said that he remembered Charles but had not seen or heard of him since the ship left port. Buchanan’s heart sank. He would have to set sail for the islet on which Charles was marooned.

That night he had a strange dream. He could see the outside of the vessel, and a beautiful woman rising like Venus out of the dark water. She was dressed in a gossamer white gown with hair that flowed like a perpetual wave, and she was singing a kind of music with no words, only harmonies. She climbed up the side of the hull while the crew were sleeping and entered his cabin. She was not any woman he knew, but he felt adoration for her and his eyes never left her face. The ship’s bell was a rude awakening that evaporated the strange illusion.

At daybreak the ship moved south to the island where Charles was last seen alive. To his horror it was only a small cluster of rocks periodically submerged by the sea. As they drew closer he could make out an overturned dinghy that was badly weathered from storms.

As the ship came to a halt an emaciated, bearded man emerged and shook his fist at them like a madman. Buchanan was shocked to see features he recognized on his gaunt face. He descended a rope ladder to greet his friend.

“Charles it’s me John!” Buchanan said tearfully.

The man turned and stared at him.

“John?” his hoarse voice sounded skeptical. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re going back to England together! You are alive!” he exclaimed joyfully, embracing his skeletal body.

Charles was at a loss, sitting down on a rock to consider this chain of events.

“I can never go back to England.” he said simply, gazing up at him. “I have taken a wife and we have a child together.”

“Bring them with us!” John implored him. “I care not what people will say, I’ll make the arrangements myself!”

A crying sound erupted from under the overturned dinghy. It sounded like a cross between the wail of an infant and some wretched animal, a fact that was impossible to ignore as its wails continued. Buchanan walked over to the dinghy and looked under it.

He backed away slowly, his face changed. It took him a few moments to realize what he was looking at and what this predicament was really about. Eventually he looked at his friend in anger.

“What… in God’s name… have you done!” his voice became enraged. “I traversed the globe out of kinship to you to find something there is no place in Hell for?”

“John, I’m sorry…” Charles started to say, but Buchanan had walked past him and was climbing back up to the deck. He spent his entire life believing they were an enlightened people, but there were things that were taboo among them, forbidden because they were too close to their beliefs, set apart from the rest of God’s creatures. Buchanan ordered the crew to hoist anchor. He tore the pages from his journal and burned them, taking a vow of silence.

Mr. Harris put the book down. The way his chest was acting lately he felt he was living on borrowed time. The school intercom made him jump.

“Mr. Harris report to the principal’s office immediately.” it said urgently, sounding like a funeral notice.

The principal’s door was open and several people were standing inside including Simmons herself. The principal was at his desk reading a composition book that was obviously Simmons’ private journal.

“Close the door please.” he said with a grim face. “I’m sorry to summon you here like this. I know a student’s private thoughts are just thoughts, but then I read some of these entries. This one says ‘I must honor his wishes because Mr. Harris is wise and he knows everything. I will keep our relationship a secret exactly as he asked. We will be strong together and he will be pleased with me.’”

“Miss West,” the pricipal asked her delicately, “is this something that you made up?”.

She looked wide-eyed at Mr. Harris and then back at them.

“Yes!” the word jumped from her throat like an epiphany. “It’s a work of fiction. I want to be a writer!”

“But why would you write about having a romantic tryst with your teacher?” he demanded.

“Maybe I’m not the shining person you think I am.” she shrugged. “I have bad thoughts sometimes. Everyone’s human.”

“So you are not involved with Mr. Harris?”

“He’s an easy grade.” she lied. “I was just using him.”

“Simmons stop!” Harris objected, feeling a sharp pain move from his chest down his arm.

“We are not here to judge you.” the principal stated. “The student is not to blame in these situations. You are too young to understand…”

“I’m a grown woman and I do understand!” she jumped up and grasped Mr. Harris by the hand, throwing herself to the wolves to keep them from blaming him. Two of the faculty restrained her and a security officer pulled Harris out of the room.

“I want to run away with you!” Simmons shouted tearfully, extending her hand toward him as they held her back.

The door was slammed shut between them. Mr. Harris was restrained and forced through the main doors toward a waiting police vehicle where his body started convulsing. His face turned purple and he dropped lifeless on the pavement in front of the school.

“If I could fly, I’d pick you up and take you into the night

and show you love like you’ve never seen.”