Page 76 of The Merman's Betrothal
Doaty was a really sad fucking sight.
‘We’re right in the middle of the Minch, aren’t we?’ Rory said, peering at the distant Hebridean islands.
‘Yes. Many miles from your home.’
‘Hmm.’
Doaty had gotten drunkenly lost at sea before, but it was almost always within sight of Loch Broom. A rescue team or a bunch of older fishermen always got to him before he ended upin any real trouble. To be this far out he must have taken the boat overnight.
Now that Rory could see Doaty’s face clearly, he discerned odd tracks that had washed some of the patina from his cheeks. Had Doaty been crying?
He looked again at the debris littering the deck. They weren’t the supplies of a man intending to survive for very long.
For the first time, fully himself while caught between the sky and the sea, Rory saw a different version of Doaty than the one he was used to.
Doaty had been a young man once, probably proud and hardworking as he toiled on this very boat before it succumbed to age and salt decay. He was the kind of man who was born to be a fisherman, had come from a family of fishermen, had watched the industry grow then shrink and change and ultimately leave him behind.
And what were you when your sense of purpose left you?
‘Worthless,’ Rory murmured to himself.
Fionn, not understanding, nodded in agreement. ‘He certainly looks like a waste of skin. Shall we leave him?’
‘No.’ Rory rubbed his temples, torn between a desire for justice and the nagging urge to take responsibility for the life in front of him. Did Doaty even deserve saving? Any piece of trash fluttering off this deck could well have contributed to the leatherback’s entrapment from a few days ago. Yet, there were far bigger culprits out there than a lonely old man lost at sea.
‘Do you think we can tow him?’ Rory asked.
‘Are you questioning my strength?’ Fionn picked up a rope and tested how secure it was against the cleat it was hitched to. ‘A few of these should do.’
‘I know I was just saying we ought to concentrate on your problems a minute ago—’
Fionn held up a hand. ‘I can see this is important to you. Let us do this, first.’
Gratefully, Rory helped Fionn fashion a loose harness criss-crossed over his torso, then tied the other end to the bow of Doaty’s boat.
Before they dived back in, Fionn flashed him a wry smile. ‘You know, we are going in the wrong direction if you were serious about running away.’
‘Shut up.’
‘But may I ask why we are doing this? If I have understood correctly, you don’t owe this man anything.’
‘No. But I owe it to myself to make the right choice. Right?’
Fionn’s smile widened. ‘I hadn’t thought my admiration for you could grow, yet you prove me wrong once again.’
Rory’s cheeks burned. His whole body burned. Fionn thought him worthy of so much admiration.
Struck with sudden swagger, Rory said, ‘Maybe later you can admire me up close.’
He jumped overboard before Fionn could call his bluff.
Not really bluffing any more though, am I?
It took a couple of hours to tow Doaty’s boat into Loch Broom. Fionn explained they couldn’t use the power of the currents otherwise it would capsize the trawler, so they had to make do with a more plodding pace.
Rory didn’t mind. It was so natural now to swim by Fionn’s side, inches from his skin. Arms sometimes brushing past each other. Existing in the same space.
How had they gone from feeling like near-strangers navigating new territory, to comfortable companions forging a path home?
