It was the pub keeper's most prized possession. And rightly so. Many were the eyes that gazed upon it every day in amazement and curiosity. Safely secured in its transparent container it was an unequalled artefact.

"You have to take them before they learn to swim, that's the secret Captain." The pub keeper grinned at the man at the opposite side of the counter. Said man gave but a subtle nod in return, eyes never leaving the stage. "Got it when it was barely a new born."

This granted the pub keeper the other's full attention. The man turned slowly toward him, eyebrows lifted slightly in level-headed surprise. "Do you not fear their kind's wrath?" he asked. The keeper laughed.

"That's why my pub is on land and not on a boat," he winked. "I have no need to journey anywhere that would require a boat, so I feel quite safe."

Both the men returned to staring up at the stage. Then the man –a Captain- spoke up again.

"I'd like to buy it."

The keeper jerked a little. Then he laughed again –though if possibly, in a more polite manner than before. "I'm afraid it is not for sale. It is an important part of my economy, after all."

The Captain looked him briefly up and down, returned his gaze shortly to the cylinder tank on stage, before nodding. "I understand," he said. "There must be quite a lot of coin in possessing something like that." Taking a swig of his drink, he watched the pub keeper over the rim of the tankard, his eyes hid in shadow from the weather worn hat on his head. At his words, the keeper's eyes twinkled, and a pleased smirk curled the corners of his mouth.

"Of course," he said, adding lightly, "But a respectable man must have more than one stable income."

A small smile passed briefly over the captain's face, mirroring the pub keeper. "Of course," he said. Then he paid for his drink and left the crowded pub, the few chosen individuals of his crew that had stayed subtly hidden in the room following suit and unnoticeably.

They walked casually a few streets down until they reached the small town's harbour, where they boarded one of the ships docked there. Once inside and below deck, the captain shrugged off the coat and hat, which had served as a perfect disguise these past three weeks, before turning to his assembling crew.

"We have our man," he grinned.

Back in the pub, the pub keeper smiled to himself at the attention his artefact was granting him, as that marked the fourth person to ask to buy it just this day. To him, the evening and night had been of the best kind, and it continued on as it always did. How sad that he did not know what was to happen seven hours after the captain had left through his door.

For, said number of hours later, when the last, slow guest had finally left the pub's doorstep and the keeper himself had locked up for the night, he was not aware of the mob standing silently outside his backdoor as he finished the last of his tidying.

He knew nothing, before there was a firm but relaxed knock on the door at the back of his small storeroom behind the counter area. He walked over to it, opened it, feeling as peaceful as a man could at the end of a good day's work. That peace however, was shred to pieces as several naval uniforms and a brightly smiling face met him.

"Can I help you?" he asked confused.

"Yes, I believe you can." The first in the crowd of navy personnel stepped in through the door, still smiling. To the pub keeper's utmost confusion, and slow horror as he gradually pieced the puzzle together, he recognised the face of the assumed pirate captain who had been such a generous guest at his house the past few weeks. The man looked around a little, as if it was his first time there, probably just an act he had learned at whatever navy school he had attended. He turned to the pub keeper again.

"Pardon the late intrusion, but my name is Captain Alfred F. Jones, of the British Empire navy, and you are Daniel Smith, a heavy smuggler our government wants to put behind bars and make repay all the money you have swindled us for." It was not spoken as a question. And all the while he was smiling, politely with an ever so slight hint of a grin. However, he kept his mood in check; one had to keep professional when executing these things. Alfred Jones had not made it all the way to the rank of captain to behave like an idiot when on a mission.

Meanwhile, the poor pub keeper's face had just grown whiter and whiter. By the end of Alfred's short speech, he even tried his luck on a futile escape. He got one and a half step backwards before Alfred's men had him tied up and locked securely in irons.

"Alright, you all remember the government's orders; search the premises and anything suspicious looking you can find, we will be taking with us." The crew scattered like well-trained dogs, two remaining by the pub keeper to guard him. Alfred joined his men and started a more thorough touring of the house than he had had the pleasure of doing before. Sure, they had managed a great deal of scouting and figuring-out through those past three weeks, but one could only do and see so much when pretending to be an unimportant, and as un-sensational guests as possible.

They were just wrapping up and getting ready to leave as Alfred threw a last glance around, halting as he came to look upon the cylinder glass tank reaching from the floor and almost all the way to the ceiling on the low stage of the pub. The extra iron bars had been pulled down for the night, making escape positively impossible. The artefact inside had kept silent, barely moving, the entire time they had roamed the house. And as Alfred stared, it stared back, and he found that even after three weeks this creature never ceased to confuse and oddly entrance him. Its emerald green eyes shone dimly in the sparse light. By the door the crew stood waiting. Alfred remained silent for a few moments.

"We're bringing it with us," he then said finally. The confusion hitting his crew was as visible as a tidal wave.

"Excuse me, sir," the quartermaster cleared his voice carefully. "Do you mean the merman?"

Alfred smiled. "Yes, I mean the merman. The orders were to bring back anything out of the ordinary, and if this isn't, I don't know what is." The crew exchanged a few glances. Worried glances.

"Sir," the quartermaster said again. "You do realise that merpeople are capable of special things?"

"I do." Alfred replied patiently. The quartermaster licked his lips, glancing at his mates.

"Merpeople are not known to regard humans lightly. This merman in particular has been kidnapped by one. I must admit I would worry for our safety if we were to have it on board." The crew looked at each other again. Their captain was not unreasonable, they knew that. If there was something they did not like or did not feel safe about, he was very generous in letting them have their way. But he could also be rather stubborn at times.

"We are the government's men, the navy, what would we be if merely the fear of what could happen kept us from completing a mission?"

The eyes of the crew clearly stated they did not see the "merely" of this whole situation. Alfred snickered a little, but his smile softened.

"I promise nothing will happen to us. If anything, we will just return the merman to the sea if they get angry. I will make sure nothing happens to any of you, so there is no need to worry." And though the crew wasn't really convinced there was anything even their brave, big-hearted captain could do against a sea of seething angry merfolk, they found they had no real protest to come up with and a few of them began heading toward the glass tank.

They stopped a few metres from it, looking a moment in awe at the creature. It had its tail bent up lazily in front of it, leaning half against the bottom and half against "back" wall of the cylinder, looking at them from across the translucent fin. It probably took them several minutes to dare their way close to the glass, the creature not moving at all. Had it not been for the open eyes clearly watching them –and the fact that it had not floated to the surface, Alfred thought in absentminded humour–, it could just as well have been dead.

They found the bolts and screws keeping the tank fastened to the floor, and soon had them loosened.

"You don't have a cart or anything of the like, do you?" Alfred turned to the pub keeper, who had been standing silently next to them, and now jerked to life at the question. Numbly, he just nodded, probably too out of it to really think much.

"Out the back," he said hoarsely. Alfred nodded to two men, who went outside and soon had the double front doors open and the cart ready by the stage.

"Carefully," Alfred announced, stepping onto the stage to help his men. It took all of them -except for one to stand guard the pub keeper, just in case- to tip it over as gently as they could and get it onto the cart in a lying fashion. It took them quite a while too, as well as their fair share of grunting and groaning, to get the whole job done –and to get it done as silently as possible at that. The hour was late, and they would rather not have the entire neighbourhood wake up to the smashing of a glass tank and a merman sprawled on the local pub floor.

"All right, good work everyone," Alfred said after they had secured the tank to the best of their ability on the spot. They proceeded to make their way out of the pub, leaving behind disorientated chairs and unlocked front doors. "My apologies this all had to happen so late," Alfred walked next to the pub keeper, his quartermaster leading the party. "But I didn't want to evoke more attention that needed, so this was really the best time."

They made it through the streets somewhat unseen –"somewhat", because they were actually seen. Both by late drinkers and people happening to throw a glance out their bedroom windows. But it was not like anyone dared intervene with any of the navy's men, so they reached the ship without any hindrances, got the – former – pub keeper under deck and in one of the three cells they had, before they got the glass tank on board as well.

"Secure it to the bulwark between the two cannons over there. We can find a better location for it later," Alfred instructed, the tank, still lying down, was securely tightened to the sturdy bulwark before the crew members in charge of this task backed away –a little quicker than a calm man would.

Alfred said nothing of it however; it was not like the merman didn't affect him as well. He gave the helmsman their heading, the ship gliding away from the harbour in the night.

All the while, he kept an eye with the creature in the glass tank. It had its green eyes locked at the harbour, never looking away even as it got smaller and smaller in the distance, an expression on its face that Alfred couldn't read.

a/n:

Edit: 19.08.2013

Bulwark – the railing around the deck of a ship, the "plank"-like thing laid on top of the edge is called the rail.

EDIT: 7.29.2012

Audio version of this chapter: www dot youtube dot com / watch?v=ry8Z0CaVqrk I hope you will enjoy it, and if not, then at least you got to hear what my voice sounds like. xD (as if anyone's interested in that)

(The old, original an):

I have been having this story in my head for weeks, and finally decided it was time to get the first chapter on paper. -Or on a word document, at least-. Scr*w school not really giving me any spare time to do these things.

Also, this is unbetaed, so if there's anyone out there who wouldn't mind betaing, I'd be so happy. I have asked so many different betas now that I've lost count. And either they don't answer or they disappear on me. ...So I've sort of given up. But please. I'd be so happy.

And a small note: I made Alfred a navy captain of the British Empire, as I imagine this to happen at the time of Port Royal. And that was around the 1600s (before it was destroyed by an earth quake or something in 1690-something), and since we all know the American revolution was in 1776, I figured he'd be in the British Empire navy. –Mostly because I have no clue if America had their own navy before they became independent. I know, I fail. X) Though if I have done wrong in deciding this, feel free to correct me.

Please tell me what you think. And please ignore how ridiculously long this a/n is. -_-