Daughter of the Sea Spirit

Long ago in Chile, a girl named Julieta lived with her grandmother in a hut near the sea. Each morning, she took her basket to the beach and gathered mussels, clams, and other shellfish the tide had left behind for their dinner that night.

After an especially heavy rain, the bounty was even greater. Rocky tide pools would brim with seafood usually harder to find – delicious shrimp, sardines, and crabs.

Rocky tide pools would brim for seafood…

One time, an especially wild storm raged for three days. When it finally passed, Julieta set off with a wooden cart instead of her basket. No doubt her grandmother would be amazed by the cartload of shellfish she would bring home!

Following the path from their hut to the beach, Julieta passed two friends playing with their younger sisters. “If only I had a younger sister, too!” she thought with a pang.

“If only I had a younger sister, too!”

But Julieta’s parents had passed away when she was very young, and she now lived with her grandmother. She knew that she would never have a little sisterof her own – someone to chase waves with, string seashell necklaces side by side, or sit patiently while she braided her hair.

At the rocks by the still-active waves, Julieta peered down into a deep tide pool. Something unusual caught her eye—a row of bright red points peeking up through the seaweed.

Julieta leaned closer. It was a giant crab shell – larger than any she had ever seen.

“This crab will feed us for a week!” she exclaimed.

Julieta carefully tugged the heavy shell onto her cart and wheeled it home.

“Grandmother, quick!” Julieta called. “Come see a surprise!”

“Come see a surprise!”

But when Julieta looked down, she was the one who was surprised.

For the crab shell had cracked open and inside it lay – a tiny baby girl! And not just any baby – below those copper curls and rosy cheeks, below that plumb waist, tapered a fish tail with tiny silver scales.

Her grandmother hurried over and gasped. “Julieta! This is a merbaby – a daughter of the Pincoya!”

“The what?” said Julieta.

“The who,” said her grandmother. “The Pincoya is the Spirit of the Sea—part woman, part fish. Where did you find this baby?”

“Inside a giant crab shell at the tide pool,” said Julieta. “I didn’t know it was a baby!”

“I didn’t know it was a baby!”

“I have heard,” the grandmother said slowly, “that mother Pincoyas sometimes hide their babies during storms. They do that because that’s when sea wolves come out of their underwater caves to hunt.”

“Sea wolves? To hunt?”

“Terrible creatures,” said the grandmother gravely, “with heads like seals but bigger and vicious. In a storm, if you are a merfolk – you’d better watch your children!”

“Terrible creatures,”

“So the mother put her baby in this crab shell to keep it safe?”

“That’s what I suppose,” said the grandmother. “But somehow, the shell must have washed ashore.”

“What do we do?” said Julieta. “Someone needs to take care of this baby!”

“Someone needs to take care of this baby!”

“It will be dark soon,” said the old woman. “We’ll care for her tonight. Then you can take her back to the beach first thing in the morning.”

So Julietta and her grandmother fed the baby warm kelp broth and bathed her in a basin of water. The little one cooed, splashed, and clapped her hands, and Julieta loved that baby more than she had ever loved anything.

The next morning the baby had a cough, and Julieta declared to her grandmother that they must not take her outside until the child felt better.

The following day, her cough was better but dark clouds gathered in the sky. They surely could not risk taking her to the rocks by the beach when sea wolves might be near!

Sea wolves might be near!

And so for one reason or another, it always seemed to make perfect sense why the baby must not be returned just yet. In the meantime, the merbaby grew day by day. And each day the baby brought new delights for Julieta.

One day, Julieta traveled to the village with her grandmother for supplies. She had wrapped the baby in a blanket with its fins tucked inside, so the villagers would not suspect a thing.

When the grandmother went into a shop, Julieta and the baby waited outside. She overheard two fishermen speaking.

“The nets have come up nearly empty for weeks now,” said one fisherman, shaking his head. “I’m afraid the Pincoya Sea Spirit must be unhappy.”

“I’m afraid the Pincoya Sea Spirit must be unhappy.”

“I know she is,” said the other fisherman. “I saw her two nights ago, dancing on the beach – facing the land. She had the strangest expression.”

“Facing land?” cried the first fisherman in alarm. Everyone knew what that meant. When the Pincoya danced facing the sea, plenty of fish would fill their fishing nets. But if she danced facing the beach, fish would be scarce.

“I don’t understand it,” said the other fisherman. “We just held our celebration to honor her. She always likes our dancing and singing, the aroma of our fresh-baked curantos. After one of our celebrations, there’s always plenty of fish. Why is she unhappy this time?”

“I wish I knew!” said the first fisherman throwing his arms in the air.

“Why is she unhappy this time?”

On their way home, Julieta shared with her grandmother what she had overheard. Both of them fell into a heavy silence. They knew why the Pincoya had danced facing the beach. They knew why she had a strange expression on her face. And they knew what they must do.

The next day, even as storm clouds crept in, Julieta gently placed the merchild in the cart and wheeled her back to the tide pool where she had first found the crab shell. She set a nest of sea moss in the rocks and gently laid the merbaby in it. Climbing a nearby boulder, she kept watch.

Suddenly, a head rose out of the water – not quite seal or shark – with burning eyes and razor teeth. A sea wolf!

Julieta swung down and snatched the merbaby, just in time before the dark creature’s slick body lunged into the tide pool and slapped against the rocks.

Clutching the baby tightly, Juliet ran home, her heart pounding.

Panting, she shared with her grandmother the terror she had faced.

“How awful!” cried her grandmother, alarmed.

“Maybe we’ll never be able to return her,” said Julieta, with hope rising in her heart. But at the same time, she knew there was another way.

She knew there was another way.

The next morning, Julieta took the merchild in the opposite direction down the beach, far away from the rocks and underwater caves where the sea wolves might dwell.

She gathered a mound of seaweed and nestled the merbaby on top of it.

Then a worry crept into her mind. “How will the Pincoya mother even know she’s here?” Another thought crowded out the worry. “Maybe she already gave up. Maybe she’ll never come!”

“Maybe she already gave up. Maybe she’ll never come!”

Julieta was starting to feel dizzy from her fantasies and the beaming sun when she heard a distant song from the waves – soft and ancient. Then came seven waves, each one a different color: crimson, azure blue, gold, pearl white, coral, emerald and finally, a wave that shimmered with all colors at once. On this last wave rode the Pincoya Sea Spirit herself.

She was magnificent – tall and graceful, her hair the color of sunset, her fish tail aglow with light. The Sea Spirit lifted the merbaby in her arms and sang a lullaby not of this world. The baby cooed with recognition and joy, and settled in her arms.

“I didn’t mean to keep her away from you for so long,” Julieta whispered. “I mean, not really.”

“You saved my baby,” said the Pincoya mother. “Not once. But twice.”

“But now you’ll take her away forever?”

Julieta’s face was so crestfallen that the Pincoya mother at once understood.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Come to this spot at dawn the day after every full moon. You may see her and be with her all morning long.”

Julieta brightened. “The full moon is next week!”

“The full moon is next week!”

“So it is,” the Pincoya said with a smile.

True to her word, the day after each full moon, the Sea Spirit returned. Julieta and the merchild – now growing fast – would greet each other with whoops of joy.

Together, they spent the morning chasing waves, stringing seashell necklaces side and side, and sometimes when the merbaby settled where the waves lapped the sand, Julieta would braid her copper hair.