Just before the waters closed over her head, she heard the shouts. Whatever spell had come over the men had been broken and panic had begun. Her own limbs found life as she sputtered and began to swim towards something--anything--that would not sink. Her arms found a dead ship's mast protruding from the water and she held on as though it was the most precious item in the world.

She looked around, trying to assess the damage. At least eighty percent of her crew had been lost. The few who survived were clinging to whatever debris they could find, including each other. She watched, sickened, as a few of the panicked sailor grabbed on to others who were desperately trying to tread water...sinking them both. The icy water was stained with blood as the ship slowly broke apart from the wind and the waves that thrashed it against the rocks and skeletons of other ships. Flying pieces of wood and metal crashed into the water, taking many more souls with them.

As she watched the carnage, something else caught her eye. There appeared to be a man sitting on a rock not five-hundred yards away. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, not believing. The same man appeared to be some sort of fish from the waist down. A merman? she thought, Impossible! she had never believed the fairy stories about merfolk and sirines lurking in the sea, but here was one sitting and watching her ship sink. Lost in her confusion and thoughts, she let her guard down. A rope from the mizzenmast snapped and the end whipped in her direction, striking her across the head. All went dark.