Seacliff

Chapter sixty-seven: The little selkie

1940

Aidan spat seawater as he coughed, blinking into consciousness. His senses flickered in and out of focus, until the weight of his wet kit began to crush his chest and the dim sunlight stung his eyes. Though as he raised a hand to shade his face, something else entirely blocked out the sun.

The large eyes, long whiskers, and pointed snout of a grey seal.

Aidan's head dropped back on the sand. He wanted to laugh, but his lungs hurt. The left side of his ribs in particular. Instinct drove him to touch the soreness. Big mistake. Wincing, Aidan rolled on his right side as if he could escape the pain. The seal got behind him, nudging him upright.

Splinters of remembrance flashed through his brain. Lightning tearing up the darkness of his thoughts.

Fritz had fired his handgun as soon as Aidan's knife had pierced him. The pain had blindsided Aidan, though looking down now, he only saw a deep, gaping gash across his ribs. The bullet must have swiped clean past, without penetrating his flesh.

"Lucky," he grumbled and cleared his throat.

The seal stared at him as if in agreement.

"You're a selkie," Aidan said, his voice still gravelly, "aren't you?"

The seal tilted its head to one side.

"Yeah... definitely a selkie."

Aidan tried again to touch the raw edges of his burnt, blistered skin. The saltwater hadn't done him as much damage as it would have to a regular human, but it hadn't helped much, either.

The seal whimpered.

"Huh?" Aidan squinted. "Oh, yeah, I would love nothing more than to get this cleaned and dressed – "

The seal's round eyes widened even further. Aidan snickered. Wave after wave crashed at his feet; seagulls shrieked in the sky. Behind him, a wall of rocks shielded him from prying eyes.

He crawled into the shade at the foot of the cliff, peeling off his drenched gear to use for a pillow as he reclined. "Where did you bring me?" he asked the seal. "Denmark? I reckon it was the nearest rescue coast."

The seal excitedly clapped its flippers.

"Great." Aidan grunted as he shifted into a more comfortable position. "So, what do you have in mind? I really need to get to France."

*

The quarter moon beamed just bright enough for Aidan to be able to make out the shape swaying on the shore ripples.

"A kayak? Seriously?"

Aidan stared at the seal. The seal stared back at Aidan.

"You couldn't even find a skiff, or a dinghy? It had to be a kayak?"

You're welcome, the seal growled and Aidan rolled his eyes.

"Sure, thanks."

He regarded the long, narrow vessel and its single oar with some scepticism, wondering if it wouldn't be better to swim. Then he looked down at his bare torso wrapped in bandages. His cheeky guardian seal had brough him food, water, and medical supplies. Venturing at sea without making a full recovery would just let all of that effort go to waste.

Better the kayak than a pesky infection that could kill him without his sealskin at hand.

"All right," Aidan relented. "Kayak it is."

He picked up his torn shirt off its rocky perch and pulled it on. Some food and freshwater already waited for him inside the kayak. Aidan packed the rest of his stuff, fastened the German knife around his waist, and stepped into his boots.

Gathering clouds dimmed the pale moonlight even further. Aidan kissed each of his lucky amulets, grateful he hadn't lost them, and stuffed them under his collar before pushing the kayak out at sea. The little selkie followed closely.

"Do you think I'll be fully healed by the time we make it to the Netherlands?"

The seal tilted its head, diving underwater. It resurfaced once Aidan had nestled inside the kayak.

"I reckon, if my wound is all closed up by then," he resumed, balancing the oar on his palms, "I could swim upstream into France."

The seal looked questioningly at him. Aidan began to paddle.

"The delta drains there into the North Sea," he elaborated, "just outside Rotterdam. The Rhine-Meuse-Scheldt delta. The Rhine would take me straight into Germany, but either the Meuse or the Scheldt should take me into France. The Dutch harbours are probably heavily guarded, though."

The little selkie snorted a whistle that rang derisory.

"What, you think I can't make it?"

The soft whistles continued as the seal set their course into the waves.

"Oh, very well, then," Aidan mumbled, giving in. "Have it your way."

*

Aidan chose to make his way south-west through Belgium via the river Scheldt once his course aligned with the Dutch coast. He abandoned his kayak at sea and approached the sprawling delta underwater. His selkie friend was kind enough to guide him all the way to Ghent through the Terneuzen Canal, but it then had to return to the North Sea.

"I can't thank you enough," Aidan murmured, treading water.

They had taken refuge under a bridge at dusk, to bid their farewells. The seal reached out to support his weight and allow him to relax. Aidan reciprocated with a hug.

"Will you tell me your name? Perhaps we'll meet again."

The seal's pitch-black eyes glinted with a fickle glimmer of the waning crescent, the hint of a smile arched along the lips of its snout. No sounds came out, however.

Aidan chuckled. "Fine, maintain your silence all you want. Just take care out there, all right?"

The seal bobbed its head and pressed its nose against Aidan's face. Then it disappeared underwater.

Aidan sighed, contemplating the river rushing into him. The Germans hadn't made it this far west yet, according to the intelligence his selkie saviour had collected. But they had invaded Belgium and were quickly advancing. Sooner or later, they'd foray into France, while the Allies fought on the Belgian border.

Like a prayer, Jemmy's name became Aidan's sole source of strength in the face of the furious freshwater flow. He would stop at nothing, except time stopped for no one, and he only had a matter of days at his disposal.

"If there is a sea god... well, there had better be a river god, too, because I am not dying here. Jemmy... I am coming. Hang in there."