“It’s not a chicken egg we’re looking for,” said Mazu impatiently.
“Did you ever find anything unusual amongst the fish?” asked Triton.
“The odd shoe here and there. We once found a white shark washed up on the beach. ‘Twas the talk of the town for months.” Jerry scratched his head. “Come to think of it, young Flynn found a baby in his net a few weeks ago. I suppose that was a bit odd. That’s who you want to be askin’. He’s the one I get most of these fish from. No idea how she got there. Never did find her parents.”
Triton and Mazu’s eyes widened.
“Sounds fascinating,” said Triton.
“You’ve been most helpful,” said Mazu.
“I don’t suppose you could tell us where we might find Flynn?” asked Triton.
Jerry pointed to a wooden boat docked at the pier and without hesitation, Triton and Mazu made their way along the promenade towards the boat.
“Good day to you!” called Jerry.
Walking towards the pier they could see a man and a young infant sitting on the deck in the sunshine.
“It has to be the child,” said Mazu. “She must be the one.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” whispered Triton, stopping to peer through a pair of binoculars.
“It’s hard to say,” replied Mazu. “Something different I suppose.”
“I’d say her hair’s fairly different from other girls her age.”
“What’s her hair got to do with it?!” snapped Mazu, snatching the binoculars. “When did the colour of someone’s hair make them dangerous? Look at your hair. Bright green! People would die from fright just looking at the colour of your hair.”
Triton adjusted his hat to make sure there were no loose strands on show. “Aside from the hair she seems quite normal looking to me. A pretty little thing.”
“But what is she? Is she one of them or one of us?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Wait!” ordered Mazu. “What if she’s one of them? What do we do?”
Triton was already striding along the pier with his cane and as he got closer he heard Flynn talking to the child.
“I suppose we’ll give you a name will we?” he said, holding her in his arms. “I think Cordelia would suit you.” The child’s piercing blue eyes gazed back at him and she smiled. “That’s it,” he continued, “we’ll call you Cordelia, daughter of the sea.” Then he placed a delicate necklace around her neck with a single pearl that had belonged to his wife.
Triton paused.
“Well?” asked Mazu, “What should we do?”
“Nothing. Not yet.” He turned on his heel and walked away, followed closely by Mazu.
“Nothing?” asked Mazu. “Do you think she’s the one?”
“I’m certain of it.”
“And you want to do nothing?”
“Are you ready to raise a child Mazu? She has someone to take care of her and we don’t know enough about her so we’ll wait.”
“How do we know she won’t kill him?”
“We don’t. Only time will tell.”
As time passed, Cordelia grew into the most beautiful child Flynn had ever seen and all the while, Triton and Mazu watched closely. She looked like an angel and her silver grey hair always shimmered in the moonlight. Of course, Flynn thought it unusual for a child to have grey hair but it suited her and there was nothing he could do about it so he let it be. He’d taught Cordelia how to swim from a young age, which she loved. She swam with such grace and it didn’t matter what time of year it was, Cordelia was in the sea every day; unlike Flynn, she didn’t seem to feel the cold. Since there was no school for girls in Kilfearagh at that time, Cordelia spent her days helping Flynn on the boat, clambering across the rocks and exploring caves and in the evenings he’d teach her how to read, write and pray. Though Flynn hadn’t attended church since the loss of his wife, praying was his one hope of salvation.
Flynn often told stories about his own childhood, his family and the day he’d found Cordelia in his fishing net. She loved hearing that story and how the storm had set in while he was fishing near the islands. Cordelia desperately wanted to see the islands but having experienced first-hand how dangerous it could be there, Flynn chose to stay away. He had responsibilities now and having been given what he believed to be a second chance at fatherhood, he wanted to keep her safe.
Although they had fun, life on the boat hadn’t been easy. They’d struggled through the great hunger - few areas had been as severely affected as the west coast. People had died from starvation, not from a lack of food but from a lack of money to pay for it. Potato farming had been the main source of income for most people in this remote town and without a decent crop, they were barely able to eek out a living. Most families didn’t have enough money to pay the rent, let alone eat. Many fled the land in search of a new life in America. The population had dropped, houses stood empty and life was bleak. A feeling of impending doom spread amongst the town and in February of 1852, a wretched storm ripped through Kilfearagh without warning.
It was early evening as Flynn prepared supper on the boat. All things considered, it had been a relatively normal day. There had been nothing to suggest that such destruction was on the way. If anything, the weather had been rather mild for the time of year, but as the sun faded and the sky turned black, Flynn noticed a sudden drop in temperature. That’s when everything changed.
THREE
Acquiesce
Cordelia lay on her side, gazing at the gemstones on her bedside table, wondering how they were possible. It occurred to her that she was no longer crying. The tears had
