‘When the moon disappeared behind the cloud, the maidens put on their sealskins and slipped back into the water. All except one. She could not find her skin. No matter how hard she searched, it was not there. She called to her sisters, but they were already out of earshot. Frightened and forlorn, she sat shivering on the rocks. The fisherman made his approach. He appeared as her kind and gallant saviour. Gently, he coaxed her back to his hut. She went with him.
‘The fisherman was patient and cautious in his seduction. He provided her with clothes and as much jewellery as he could afford, he taught her to speak his language and to cook his food. Soon he had her as he wanted her to be: loving, grateful and dependent on no one in the world except him. But she did not like staying indoors and she did not stop searching for her sealskin. In all kinds of weather, she would be at the shore singing to her sisters. They would swim to her, bob their heads out of the water and look at her with sad eyes. How could she return to their world without her skin?
‘It became known in the village that the fisherman had taken a foreign wife. The villagers did not warm to her, but neither were they unkind. She remained a lonely figure, taking her daily walks to the sea, where she would sit on the rock and sing her strange song. The years passed, and she gave birth to two boys and two girls. They were beautiful children, free-spirited and healthy. Everyone was particularly impressed by how well they swam. Although they occupied her time and alleviated her homesickness, there was still an inner sadness in her, a restlessness for the life in the sea she had known, a longing for her sisters and cousins.
‘One rainy day as the children were playing in the attic, they came across a brown, furry bundle and took it down to their mother. She cried out when she saw her sealskin and understood immediately her husband’s treachery. The skin was glossy and alive, inviting her to step into it, to pick up the past where she had left off. But how could she abandon her children! She was distraught with indecision and anger. When her husband came home there was a big row while the children cowered with fear and confusion.
‘She was determined to leave. She would not stay. The fisherman pleaded. He was a man in love and she was a mother. This was a happy home. ‘‘No,’’ she said. ‘‘You are all happy, but I am out of place. I belong in the water.’’ ‘‘You are my wife,’’ he said. And so it went on until he shouted, ‘‘I should have burnt that skin, destroyed it once and for all, instead of hiding it. I will burn it now.’’
‘She fought him for the skin. They tugged and tussled, but he was stronger, and the skin fell with a thud into the fire. She dived after it and, although he pulled her out, much damage was done. Her skin was badly scorched, her beautiful face deformed and ugly. Watching her sealskin burn to ashes, she screamed in anguish as if she were the one dying.
‘From that day onwards, the fisherman no longer had a beautiful wife. Instead he had a bitter, ugly presence in his home, one that forever wished him ill and brought him bad luck.
‘After Nathan finished telling the captain the story of the selkie, he crept into his bedding below deck with thoughts of that beautiful woman who was on the land human and in the water seal. He was woken in the middle of the night by a warm, soft creature who put her arms around him and pressed her breasts against his body. She was molten and her heated breath was what had first woken him. She promised him that if he gave her his body, she would melt his chains. She was fire, she explained, and iron was hers to shape and to break; she was a flame and wood was hers to crush into ash. Did he not want to give up his chains, did he not want to abandon what was dragging and holding him back? She tempted and cajoled him; she mocked his reluctance and sneered at his indecision. Did he not believe in her power? She blew on the iron chain that was looped around his neck. He watched it glow in the dark, he felt it soften and scald his skin. With one more breath it would melt and his freedom would be complete. He swayed towards her and then suddenly tugged his chains away from her grasp. He wrestled and pushed her with all his strength. He turned away. The breath of a genie – because this was who she was, a shape-shifter, a half-demon – was not the way to his salvation. It could not be his just end. There was another way.
‘The ship arrived on shore and Nathan was on the road again. He was weaker but lighter on his feet, less healthy but quicker. How familiar these chains were to him now! They were almost a part of him. For hours, for days, he would forgot all about them until people pointed them out and asked for an explanation. What he did not forget, however, were his sins and the particular sin that had brought him all this way. He asked forgiveness at every step, under every tree, past every field. At every shrine he came upon, he would kneel and pray. One day, sudden acute hunger distracted him from
