I stood at the helm of the ship, gazing at the tranquil lagoon that had welcomed us gingerly. The crew had decided to go out and explore the streets of Marano Lagunare once they loaded off the cargo, only after begging me as if this was their very last wish they’d utter. To deny them would be cruel, Italy was an area that we had not traveled. I myself was curious about the new city. However, there was time for me to indulge. I did not mind being alone, for now. The gentle breeze was comforting after being faced with the roaring thunders of storms and waves before our arrival. 

A faint melody caressing my ears pulled me out of my thoughts. The sound raised up as if on ever-spread wings; an angel’s calling. Spare memories of the church choir singing came to mind, but no voice sounded as light and pure as this one. Instinctively, I sought it, my eyes darted around the dock for any signs of festivities that I wasn’t aware of. There was nothing, which was only confusing for a fleeting moment before I spotted a young woman in the water. She seemed to spot me as well. 

Long, blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and into the lagoon, a few strands floating atop. Yet, there were the slightest hints of curls over her face, which poked through the mass. I could barely make out any defining features except her smile, pretty lips parted to show her cuspids proudly. I also could make out that she wore no chemise while swimming. I doubted that she was wearing anything under the dark surface of the water. 

“It is quite late in the evening, your voice is like a lullaby.” I point out to her, nodding my head up to the night above — yet she seemed unbothered. “Is it a hobby for your people to swim at such times? Nude, no less?”

For a long moment, she only stared at me. I thought that I had said something out of turn, but I was quickly assured by her soft laughter. “No, I suppose it is just me. The water feels better against bare skin, no?”

I could not argue with that, my own smile tugging at my lips. “What do they call you.. Signorita?” I say hesitantly, unsure of the honorifics. 

Her face scrunched at the formal title, a giggle leaving her. “You are the first to ask in a long while,” she admitted, finally moving her hair away from her eyes. They were a striking green, a wonderful contrast against her gypsum skin. I felt as if I could stare all day, however, I was unlike the men I know. “It is Pelagia.”

“Pelagia.” I echoed, testing the name on my tongue. It didn’t sound usual for the names I’ve heard so far in Italy, but I suppose it is my ignorance. “I am Adeline of La Rochelle — it is a city in France.” She seemed to nod but showed no true sign of understanding. To say I expected her to would fall nothing short of a lie, however. I am also no connoisseur of her land either. 

I gestured vaguely to the main deck of the ship, glancing around it before settling back onto her. “This is my ship, Bernadette.” After my mother. “ I am her Captain, you see.” And, like many others, she seemed surprised at my revelation. Female captains were not common, I don’t even know any besides myself. It was seen as a man’s work, after all. “I have come to deliver spices to your town here, large shipments.” 

From there, it was mindless talking that I surprisingly enjoyed. I do not think I could grow bored of someone like Pelagia, she was too full of life to lack it.

. . .

Pelagia was a constant encounter of my nights during the month; I have grown to look forward to seeing her. By the time the sun would set, her lovely songs would kiss me gently in greeting. She was like my secret, in a way, only appearing when no one else was around. I could not say that I minded. Talking is all we did most of the time, questioning each other or sharing stories. She does not speak much about her own life, but it seems as if she preferred to listen to mine. Who truly was ‘Pelagia’ was an enigma, though I do not feel like I am teased  by her being. I know enough. 

Tonight was no different. She had caught me by the dock, swimming to the edge where I sat. She eyed the bottle of wine I had brought skeptically. “I thought I would not see you today, you are late.” She teased, before her gaze fell back to me.

“We have a time?” I ask but do not wait for her to answer. I brought the bottle up to her lips, allowing her to indulge in the sweet, light taste of mango and melons. Her eyes lit up at the flavors, and I couldn’t stop the soft chuckle that left me. We talked for a long while between drinks before the distant calling of my name was heard; my men had come back from whatever drunk fun they shared. Pelagia and I gave each other a knowing look, before I turned to retreat to the ship. As I left, I took a slow sip of the wine, though it was not the only thing I wanted to savour.

I made it up to her by coming a bit earlier, when it was twilight rather than after nightfall. “Adeline,” she said, her head lolled to the side as she peered up at me through her dewy lashes. “You have spent all this time with me on land, yet not once have you offered to swim with me. Come, just once?” 

It was hard to say no.

I was growing tired of the swanky garments weighing my person anyway. I rid myself of my coat piece and hat, my shoes already kicked off lazily. With each step, the water rose around me, caressing my skin like a lover’s touch. It reminded me of hers, and I guess it was. She was the sea herself to me, born from its essence and nurture. Familiar, yet so new. She reached out to touch me, which happened to be her mistake. “Hommes!” I yell into the night. In the small blur of time, my men had emerged from where they were hidden. Pelagia had no time to react before she was roughly snatched into one of the spare fishing nets. 

Her eyes met with mine, fury and a hint of sadness in their depths. As the riggers tugged the ropes that surrounded her, her fingers, cold and wet, brushed against my skin. Desperation plagued all, it seemed. I could not ignore the melancholy that tugged at my heart. She was going to do it first, I tell myself even if I didn’t fully believe it, turning away as I attempted to drown out her hisses of protests and begs. That voice that I had grown accustomed to everyday was no longer soft, but screeching. I felt as though Cain had less issue choosing to kill Abel — less grief.

That night I could not stop thinking of it: a life with Pelagia. I saw it so vividly as if they were memories, and against my fealty, I did not seem as disgusted as I should have been. “Adeline,” she’d say my name so sweetly, a lilt of childish mischief in her tone. “Sing with me?” I could not help but wonder if that form of me, Pelagia’s Adeline, would have missed what she had sacrificed. Would she regret never being able to step foot in a cathedral again? Would she have yearned to hear the arguments that occurred early in the morning between her crew one last time? Would she miss her legs that have traveled as far as the very ship she named? I do not know. And it scares me to ask myself; I was almost her.