The next day went by quickly, largely because Ace didn’t have the time to observe the time. If you’ve ever found time going by slowly, it’s largely because you’re aware of the fact that it exists at all. The best way to make time go by fast is to do something to distract yourself. Ideally, by doing something you love. If that’s not an option, daydreaming while doing things you have to because people are shouting orders around is a good backup. Ace was up on the masts most of the day, and now that they were in warmer waters, the odds of them losing their grip because of frost were minimal at best. Ace had found a talent for climbing, and some of the other, more experienced riggers were more than happy to show them, and I apologize quite profusely for my turn of phrase here, the ropes. Pun intended, but with the decency to feel shame about it. 

Throughout the day, when they weren’t actively focusing on what they were doing, they were thinking. It had to be said that Ace was quite good at what they did, and that was partially because Ace had a pretty easy time losing themselves in whatever they were doing at the time. They tended to hyperfocus on the task at hand, and it caused them to do whatever task was put in front of them quickly and efficiently, which was highly appreciated by the other sailors. But there was also a lot of climbing and moving and waiting for new tasks and Ace could do those on auto-pilot -- although, if we’re being pedantic, most people are capable of waiting on auto-pilot. It’s hardly a skill. Whenever they had a free moment, they thought of mermaids. More specifically, of mermaid, singular. They would be spending the night in the cabin with the other sailors, and having their nose pressed to a porthole would attract attention. 

Now, I want to divert attention here for a quick moment to point out that Ace, like many readers, had very little experience with pirate ships before. Now you, personally, might have consumed some pirate-related media, where it is shown that pirates don’t always have the same traditional discipline as more legal vessels, and I want you to rid yourself of that notion when thinking of the Siren Song. The crew of Captain Maria Abbott’s ship was one of the most well behaved, disciplined and, not to mention, nice-smelling crews that sailed the seas at that time. The ship itself was kept clean, which was in large part due to every pirate aboard the ship taking their responsibility in keeping it that way. That’s not to say the crew on board the ship did not take their evenings of drunken debauchery very seriously, often getting so drunk, describing the depth of their inebriation requires expletives to get the point across. But the next day, they cleaned up their own mess, and long hauls across the Atlantic, like the ones they were making right now, were awfully rare -- for reasons that will become clear later. Most of the time, the Siren Song would go to its berth place and only sail out a day or two, and its crew would reserve its revelries for shoretime. But for longer hauls like this one, Captain Maria was clever enough to stock the ship with enough rum to keep his crew happy. 

It’s because of all of the above that Ace had little to no privacy in the main cabin. It was full of sailors who were up talking, gambling and talking and getting ready for the night. They even spotted one or two men reading in the little visible light. Ace couldn’t read, so they were quite impressed by the fact that there were men on this ship with fewer real teeth than fingers who could. 

But throughout the day, Ace had concocted a plan. As anyone who has ever seen the words ‘concocted’ and ‘plan’ in a sentence together before will tell you, those plans are always completely fool-proof and never fail. And so Ace snuck above decks. Only the night watch was up there, just two men playing cards, and one by the helm trying not to doze off. Ace walked past and waved casually. It wasn’t a very convincing wave, but the two card-players were somewhat drunk and not all that difficult to convince.

“Going for an evening ssstrol?” one of them lisped. That would work as well as any other excuse, Ace thought, who hadn’t thought of an excuse at all and was quite happy for this offering. 

“Sure,” they said, and the man nodded at him sagely as if Ace had said something thought-provoking. There’s a specific state of drunken-ness where you’re absolutely, one-hundred percent sure you’re much cleverer than you really are, but you’re also convinced that other people will think you’re not that clever because you’re drunk, so you try to seem like, instead of drunk, you’re just considering what everyone is saying very carefully. If you’ve been around drunk people like this, you’ll know that you can often toss them a sentence and see the gears turning as they’re desperately trying to force the words to go from their ears all the way up into their brain. Finally, the word ‘fine’ reached the part of his head that did the thinking, and he nodded again. 

“Good,” he said, and turned back to his cards. The only reason he was winning is because his opponent was drunker than he was, gently swaying on his stool. 

Ace looked up at the helmsman, who was just lazily looking up at the night sky, occasionally adjusting the course ever so slightly, but the sea was incredibly calm and there wasn’t much for him to do but to look up and count little white dots, which is a terrible way to stay awake. All three of them couldn’t directly see the bow, which was what Ace was counting on. He picked up a rope as stealthily as he could, and went off to do something stupid. 

They walked to the tip of the bow and fastened the rope, once and then a second time, and jumped overboard. Now, I’m aware that this sounds very dramatic, but I’ll append that they were holding on to the rope, so Ace didn’t actively try to drown themself. Instead, they hung off the front of the ship like the world’s first fuzzy dice on the world’s oddest dashboard. They dangled there precariously, but they’d made themself a loop, like they’d been shown, and they sat in it like it was a rope swing, like the kind they’d remembered seeing back in the town. The kind they hadn’t been allowed to play on as a kid, the kind that would be taken inside by the other children when they were done playing with it. Now that Ace finally had a chance to sit in one of them, their mind was not on whether or not the wait had been worth it, because Ace was waiting on something else entirely. They looked sideways, off to the spot that would have been outside their window in the sick bay, hoping to catch a glimpse of…

There! A small fin breached the surface and then a small head, looking at the portholes on the side of the ship. From this distance, it looked confused, looking left and right, swimming along with the ship and clearly looking for Ace, who was somewhere else entirely this time. They tried getting the girl’s attention, which was hard to do without yelling. The sea being as quiet as it was, it was dangerous to be too loud, and they didn’t want to alert the two drunkards and explain why they were playing with swings off the front of the ship, which was going to be quite difficult. 

They waved and went “psssst” a number of times, which is the kind of thing you do when you notice a friend at a fancy but boring party (not that Ace had been to many parties, but I hope the analogy works better for you readers than it might do for them). Eventually, the mergirl’s head turned to them, probably through sheer luck, and even at that distance, Ace saw the big toothy grin, just before the head disappeared below the waves again. A few seconds later, it resurfaced in front of Ace. They waved at the girl, who waved back. Ace suddenly realized that, since their cold first tumble into the water back at the docks, this was the closest they’d been to the shark-girl, and they were at a loss of what to do in the situation they were currently in. I may keep mentioning this, but Ace was not a master planner, and clearly they’d considered their plan up until here and no further. Did the girl even speak English? Could she even speak? 

It was at this precise moment that Ace, hours too late, considered the possibility that they hadn’t entirely thought their plan through. If you have a moment, give them a small, sarcastic applause, because that’s all they deserve.

“I don’t know if you can understand me,” Ace said. “But I wanted to say hi.”

She looked at them with a smile on her face for a second. They couldn’t tell if she was laughing at them or just smiling without comprehending. 

“...Hi,” she echoed back.

“Are you copying me, or do you understand what I’m saying?”

She laughed playfully and did a little underwater somersault. To Ace, this was infuriating, because they still had no idea if any of what they were saying was getting through to her. However, anyone who has ever seen an awkward teenager interact with a flirty, intelligent teenager would immediately recognize that she was playing with them. She giggled again, and looked up at Ace, who was swaying impatiently in their rope swing.

“What’s your name?” she asked. Her voice was low and husky, much more so than Ace would’ve expected. Somehow they’d been under the impression that men’s voices were low and aggressive and that girl’s voices were high and playful and sounded like sleigh bells. They were happy to be proven wrong by the shark girl. For Ace, the low growl of the girl’s voice was a uniquely pleasant surprise, and their eyes grew wide. 

“M-my name is Ace,” Ace stuttered, eliciting another giggle from the girl. She took another dive underwater, popping up a little further ahead and then bobbing back. 

“I’m Callie,” she said with a playful smile. Ace had never seen someone like her before, and that was excluding the parts of her that were fish. As a quick aside, if you’re thinking of looking up whether or not sharks are fish, so as to send me a self-satisfied letter telling me that they aren’t: you’re thinking of dolphins and whales. Sharks are fish, despite their similarities to some dolphins, and they’re related to rays. You can do with this information what you want. In my case, I decided to use it to make a pedantic point in a story about mermaids. I hope you’ll find something more productive to do with your time than I did.

“Hi, Callie.” Ace was not known for their eloquence, and their way with words was on full display. “Uh,” they added, as if to prove a point.

Callie giggled again, and it’s then that Ace finally realized that they had something actually important to say, instead of just hanging there. If you’ve ever been a teenager -- and odds are that you have -- then you might be familiar with the syndrome known as ‘staring at the pretty girl until your eyes go dry.’ It took Ace almost a full minute to get out of it, and it was to Callie’s credit that this didn’t bother her, whether this was due to her glacial patience or due to the fact that she was deeply enjoying being the reason someone was completely flustered and at a loss for words. 

“I… I think you’re in danger, Callie,” Ace said, swaying anxiously. 

Callie swam back and forth thoughtfully for a moment, swaying left and right. 

“I know,” she said and dipped below the waves.