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“Dad? Daaaaad?!”
The old fisherman sighed, stretching his head out of the boat's bridge.
“What is it, Marvin?”
“You should come here and see this.”
His son's voice was quivering slightly, alarming the old fisherman.
With another sigh, he shuffled out of the cabin and joined his son at the starboard railing of the small boat. Marvin was pointing at something out in the murky Zee waters. The old fisherman squinted.
“Right over there, dad. I think that's a person.”
The old fisherman rubbed his eyes, then leaned a bit further over the railing to see. “Bloody hell, I think you're right, son.”
There was something afloat in the water that definitely had a head and arms, like a human would have.Their skin looked pale on the dark green of the deep waters below. The person was about 20ish meters out from their boat, so the old fisherman couldn’t make out any more details.
“Shouldn’t we pull them on board and help them?” Marvin asked, eyes big and not leaving the figure.
“Son.” The old fisherman started softly, putting a hand on his son's shoulders. “Sometimes, it’s best to let the dead rest. You shouldn’t pick up strangers on the Zee, have I taught you nothing?”
“Oh.” Marvins shoulders drooped. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, more softly. “Shouldn’t we give them a burial, then? Bring them to London?”
The body was gently swaying in the waves.
The old fisherman pulled off his hat to scratch his scalp, considering the request.
“I wouldn’t wanna be drifting off in the Zee for all eternity, dad.”
The old fisherman sighed, unable to argue with his son’s logic. He’d always been bad at refusing the kids pleas, anyways.
“Fine. I’ll pull by, you get ready with the net. That should be easiest.”
Marvin scurried off to prepare to catch the body, while the old fisherman halted the engine and gently steered the boat to stay parallel to their unpleasant find. Bodies out on Zee were not too uncommon, unfortunately. He got back outside just as Marvin threw the net, covering the person, and together father and son pulled them up. A half deteriorated wood plank had been wedged under the body, presumably keeping it afloat. Marvin kicked it back into the water as they pulled up the net.
On deck, the body rolled out of the net with a wet flop. It was a man, skin of an unhealthy color. Remnants of clothes stuck to his body - torn and half rotten, little more than slimey scraps of fabric. For a corpse, he was still looking surprisingly intact - no lost flesh or open wounds, which puzzled the fisherman. Usually bodies didn’t look good on the zee for more than an hour or two. Too many hungry Zee beasts. Pulling out the net, he turned the man over to lie on his back.
His skin was icey cold, clammy from the water and turned a blue-ish green. His shock of hair must have once been ginger, but now the jaw-length hair was matted with seaweed. Bruises covered him, as well as an old scar spanning over his shoulder and face. The old fisherman recognized it as steam boils. He sighed. What a sad affair. Pulling his hat off in respect, he looked at Marvin.
“There ya go, lad.”
His son had his head tilted to the side, looking at the body. The boy was only 19, but on his many fishing trips with his father, even he had seen worse corpses. Still, he seemed lost in thought.
“Cover him in a plane, will ya?” The fisherman looked at his son. “Back in London, we’ll get him to the church on the-”
He was interrupted by a bout of violent coughing.
Both fishermen jumped back from the body, which had suddenly started to move.
“He’s alive!” Marvin cried out as the man nearly coughed his lungs out.
Water was spilling from his lips.
“Bloody-” The old fisherman cursed, then kneeled down next to the man to prop him up. Now half upright, the not quite dead man could hack up all the Zee water that filled his lungs. The old fisherman shuddered at how cold his chest and skin felt under his fingers. Water splashed to the floor.
“Son, get him a blanket!” Marvin already ran off, footsteps thunking on the metal floor.
The old fisherman slapped and rubbed the man's back as his coughing was slowly subsiding and he went limp in his arms.
“There, there.” He muttered. Their new guest pathetically curled together, movements weak.
Marvin returned and gently put a blanket around the man’s shoulders, while the old fisherman attempted to pull him into an upright, sitting position. The man was heavy, and made no effort to sit by himself. They ended up leaning him against a crate on deck. Marvin properly wrapped the blanket around his arms and torso in an attempt to warm him, but the Zee water clung to him. His eyes were blankly staring at the floor, as dark and dull as the depths which they had pulled him from. Was he awake?
The old fisherman grabbed the man's head and tilted it upwards.
“Lad? Ya hear me?”
Both of them watched as the man’s eyes flickered about, focusing and unfocusing until they vaguely stopped on the fishermans face. Then, they widened. A sudden jolt made the man jerk. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, another coughing fit wrecked his body, making him double over.
“It’s fine, it’s fine, let it all out.” The old fisherman mumbled, patting his chilly back. “Marvin, can ya make him some hot tea? He’ll need it.”
Marvin nodded and got up, but not before plucking the worst of the knotted seaweed out of the man’s hair.
Their guest was curling up into a tight ball, pulling his knees up towards him. One hand dug into the blanket around him as if it was the only thing real to him. Unfortunately, his other hand found the old fishermans arm and was clasped tightly around it. He had quite a strong grip, and the old fisherman cringed but made no effort to stop him. He could feel that the man was starting to shiver, violently.
He frowned. He was suddenly very glad they stopped to pull him out of the Zee.
The man made no attempt to move, staring blankly to the floor. He didn’t even look up as Marvin returned with a greasy mug of tea, and they had to slowly feed him the liquid. As they were unable to move him, they gathered all the blankets they could spare and piled them on and around their guest. The old fisherman started the engine back up and set course for London, while Marvin worried about the man on their deck. Even a few hours after they had pulled him, his body temperature barely seemed to rise. His chest still maintained the deep unsettling cold of the Zee. They considered putting him into the engine room by the warm furnace, but the man seemed terrified out of his mind.
He hadn’t spoken a word yet, and just sat there, shivering, grasping the blanket around him like a lifeline. His eyes were sunken in and had dark rims around them, and Marvin especially worried about the bruising on his neck. There was something unnatural about the shades that lingered under his skin. His skin was still pale and clammy, making him look not that much better than an actual corpse.
Marvin watched the constant, heavy heaving and sinking of his chest with worry. His breaths were ragged. His eyes were trained on a spot on the floorboards, but with the haze of someone who was not currently… approachable. Wherever his mind was, it was far far away from here.
"...Sir?" Marvin gently tried again, sitting across the man and waving a hand in front of his eyes slowly.
His eyes did not track his hand. Marvin frowned, readjusting the blankets once more. The man was dry now - Marvin had even put one towel over his matted hair - but he was still shivering and trembling. His hands were vice-clasped around the blanket. The knuckles were white.
The young fisherman hesitated. What was he supposed to do? The man seemed to be awake, but whatever he had seen or experienced evidently rendered him unable to speak or move. They could only hope that it would subside enough for him to get back up soon. Right now, all they could do was feed him some soup and make an attempt at warming him up. Marvin wondered how long he had been adrift on the Zee - or how he got out here, in the first place.
He sighed and pulled over a pot of canned soup he had heated up, readying a spoon. Luckily, feeding the man was possible - he didn't resist. Granted, he didn't make a move to accept the soup either, but it was possible to just kind of… put the spoon in his mouth and tip his head backwards.
Evening drew near, and they still didn't know what to do with the man.
"Can we put him inside? Maybe he can sleep a little bit." Marvin asked, he had spent most of the day worrying, putting soup into the man and attempting to get him warmed up.
The old fisherman looked over to the sorry excuse of a person that was still sitting blankly on the deck of their boat. "I'unno, kid. Maybe if we lift him together?"
Marvin nodded, and they walked over to the guy - again, no recognition - and each grabbed one of his armpits.
"One, two, heave!"
The man had gone rigid, refusing to move, and while they did budge him, he was heavy. Marvin slipped, while the old fisherman hurt his back.
"Ow! Ouch. Bloody hell." He cursed, letting go of the man. They were unlikely to move him if he didnt help on his own behalf.
"Hey, lad? Hey! Hey!!" The fisherman snapped a finger in his face again, there was a bit of a flinch but the mans dark eyes wandered from left to right, unfocused. "Lad!" A brisk slap in the face - that should do it. The mans head was whipped to the side, only to slowly turn back, still not truly looking at them.
The fisherman shook out his hand. "Well."
"I don't want to leave him here during the night..." Marvin worried.
"He'll have to manage."
"I s'pose..."
They had a few more fruitless attempts at pushing and prodding the man, until they finally gave up and went into the cabin for the night.
Marvin had been asleep for two hours before a noise woke him. Confused and sleepy, he sat up - only to jolt as he saw a shape in the doorway, lit from the back by the dim light of the fake stars above. "Heavens-"
It was, of course, their frigid passenger. He could see his silhouette, messy hair, blanket drawn around the shoulders - he was shaking and shivering.
Marvin quickly lit his oil lantern, trying not to wake his father in the other bed.
The man in the doorway was staring blankly, eyes wide open, he looked terrified out of his mind. The small light from the lantern finally, finally did draw his attention. He looked towards it, fixating on it.
"Um... Come in...?" Marvin whispered.
With heavy, clumsy steps, the man came in, shaky and unsure on his legs. He looked downright scared, taking uncoordinated steps towards the lantern.
"H-Here?" Marvin held out the lantern to him.
The man reached out, putting his hands onto the sides of the lantern. His gaze was completely trained on it. Marvin hesitated to let go, he was afraid the man might drop it, so he slowly lowered it. The man followed suit, keeping his hands on the lantern, haggard face illuminated by the sheen. Marvin could see how starved and deprived of... something? everything? He was looking.
By the time the lantern touched the ground and Marvin gently set it down, the man was crying.
Tears were flowing down his face, silently at first, as he was staring deep deep into the light of the lantern.
"Hey..."
The man still didn't react to him at all, but this was the first time Marvin saw some form of emotion on his face. The man was curling up slowly around the lantern, sitting down leaning against the wall next to Marvins bed. There was an occasional sharp breath or low sob, but he didn't talk, and he seemed as if he wouldn't move from his spot.
"Confused and worried and frankly a bit scared, but nonetheless glad their passenger was at least inside in the warm now, Marvin once again wrapped a few blankets around him and just kind of... left him, with the oil lantern held gently in his hands.
The next morning, the man was still sat in the cabin. They weren't sure if he had slept at all - he certainly didn't look like it. Over the course of the day he seemed to be a bit more aware of his surroundings, he was still desperately clinging onto that lantern and the blankets, but he looked around a bit more, eyes dull and slow and unfocused but seemingly slowly starting to register his surroundings.
They continued their journey towards London. By the afternoon, the man even held a cup of tea they gave him on his own behalf, and drank from it. When they gave him some hardtack and jerky, he very slowly nibbled on it - but he ate it on his own. The old fisherman had given him a sweater and pants, he did need some help pulling them on but also slipped into the clothes slowly and mechanically as if on auto pilot. He stuck around the nearest light source, as close as he could possibly get to it. Marvin, who watched him most of the time, was worrying he might burn his hands.
"-... and we just passed Hunter's Castle, should pull up to the docks tomorrow. Then we'll be back in London, and we can get you to... your family? A doctor, for sure. Have a decent meal."
Marvin was explaining to the guy. He had mostly been staring into the oil lantern, and not responded to anything - it wasn't the first time Marvin was telling him what was going on - but now, finally something seemed to sicker through to him. He turned his head, looking at Marvin. Marvin was still creeped out by his dull, almost dead looking eyes.
The man opened his mouth. He let out a wheeze, touching his neck. He tried to clear his throat.
Was he trying to speak?
"..." He tried again, then chewed on his fingernails, nervous. He looked back at Marvin. "...docks?" He finally managed to bring out. His voice was hoarse and rough, Marvin assumed from saltwater and misuse. Who knows why that guy had been floating in the water.
Marvins face lit up, smiling at him encouragingly. Finally he was getting somewhere!
"Yes! Of London."
"...London..." His voice was little more than a raspy whisper. He looked down at his knees again, then back to the lantern.
"There you go! You can talk!"
The man didn't seem to respond to his cheering comment. He was still staring dead ahead, biting on the knuckle of his finger.
"Can youuu tell me what happened to you?"
No response.
"Hm... Do you know how long you've been out there?"
No response. The mans eyes widened, then he slightly shook his head, defiant, as if trying to shake something off.
"Alright alright... Don't worry." In lack of anything else to do, Marvin put a comforting hand on the guys shoulder. He flinched a little bit, but didn't draw back, and relaxed slightly. "Okay... So my name is Marvin. The old man is my dad."
The man looked at him briefly, then back to the lantern.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Charles.... Ray-" His voice broke off. "Raymond."
"Nice to meet you, Charles!"
Charles didn't say anything else for the rest of the day, but did seem to actually register what Marvin was saying to him, and occasionally looked at him as he talked or brought him food.
That night, they put their visitor to sleep on a pile of blankets on the floor - they didn't have a third bed, and he refused to leave the room that was lit up. Marvin caught him lying awake once again staring at the lantern next to him, clutching his chest.
"Lad, we'll be coming up to London soon." The old fisherman told Charles at some point during the morning. "Are you good?"
Charles was sitting with his back leaning against the wall. He looked up at the question, and nodded.
"He's clearly not." Marvin stated for the record, but dropped the topic. "Do you have a place to live in London? Family to go to? A friend to contact?"
"Um..." Charles looked down at his knees. "'ts fine." He muttered, voice still rough.
Marvin frowned. He squatted down in front of their passenger, inspecting him.
He looked somewhat better, having eaten and been cleaned of seaweed. His hair was still a half-long tangled mat, and where his face wasn't scarred it was patchy and scruffy. His skin looked a little more.. alive. He still looked hollow and haggard, bags under his eyes, and for some reason so desperately training his eyes on any light source he could find.
Marvin and his father shared a look between them.
"Look, lad, I'd hate to let you run off on your own if you have nowhere to go. Wouldn't want to leave you in the streets like that." The old fisherman started. "I could offer you a place on this ship for a while until you figure out where to go? I can't pay you well but you'd have a place to sleep and food in turn for giving us a hand."
Charles looked at him, haunted eyes big and confused. "On the...ship?"
"Aye. We'll be selling our haul in London and then head back out tomorrow or so."
"Back on the...?"
"Eh?"
Charles had trouble getting out the right words clearly, clinging onto the railing of the boat. "Out so... Zee."
"Aye."
"No... no no nononono..." He started shaking his head, then he seemed to get so overwhelmed he had to squat down and wrap his arms around himself, utterly terrified. "No... No. Can't... Won't..."
"Hey, it's alright." Marvin put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll find work in London on land in no time. No need to... go back out."
Whatever had happened to the man - it must have been bad. That much was obvious. It seemed unbearable, as Charles turned away from the railing just so he didn't have to face the deep dark waves of the water all around them.
"Charles... I hope you don't mind me asking but... Why were you in the water, adrift? What happened to you?"
"I..." His eyes were wide, staring into nothing. He took short, panicked breaths. Struggling to keep it together, his hands were digging into his arms, eyes running from side to side as his face contorted into a frown, then back to a neutral expression. Finally, he looked up to Marvin - eyes still as dull and lifeless as they were, but focused on reality.
"...Nothing." He whispered.
In the distance, the dim lights of London came into view.