Gunther, although not in position, launched another spear. Ulric, who was nearby, leaned over the gunwale and slashed the water with a cutlass. Sligo had a rope ready to fling to the man in the water, but Bjarni did not surface.

The water was still for a moment. Gulls circled overhead, hungry for scraps.

“Sound off when you spot the bitch!” Gunther bellowed.

Every man scanned the water, but none saw her coming. Jon was standing in his skiff, harpoon held high, when the water spumed like a whale breaking. The mermaid shot from the sea and dragged the fisherman into the depths. When he bobbed to the surface a moment later, old Ulric was closest. He scrambled to pull Jon into his boat, but there wasn’t much to save. The poor man had been savaged so viciously that there was nothing below his ribs.

Chaos churned the bay after that. Men screamed and beat the water with their oars, all sounding out at the sight of the creature. Arwyn’s boat was rammed, the hull splintered. Mesud’s skiff was capsized, its skipper screaming as he went into the sea.

Gunther fired all three of his harpoons each time the mermaid broke the surface. Old Ulric slashed the water with his sword. The other fishermen came about to rescue their fallen comrades. Arwyn and Mesud were pulled from the water, bloodied and screaming in terror.

All rowed like mad for the pier, save Gunther. His oarsmen, Osk and Brom, insisted they cut for land, but Gunther refused. Reeling his weapons back, he readied another strike. The mermaid slipped to the surface on his lee side, as if daring the whaler to try again. Osk swears she was smiling at old Gunther like this was all a game, but Osk was rambling when he told me his story. I cannot tell which details are true and which are imagined. Osk claims that the she-creature snatched Gunther’s harpoon from the air and snapped it in two. Witnessing that, he and Brom rowed like mad for home, no matter how Gunther screamed at them for their mutiny.

This is the scenario I find when I arrive at the wharf. Five boats make it back to the pier, three lost at sea. Men scramble and jostle to back away from the water. The injured fishermen are lifted from the boats and the pier runs red with their blood. Arwyn has lost both legs, Mesud an arm. Their faces are white and their bodies jerk in spasms from the shock. They are ferried further ashore, everyone hollering for the midwife.

The mermaid cuts through the water close to the wharf, breaking surface to eyeball those of us on dry land. Ulric swears she is daring us to try again.

“Look,” he snarls. “The bitch is gloating over her handiwork.”