Down by the old harbor there's a number of taverns and brothels that sea faring men spend most of their time and pieces o' eight in. These are uncouth, hardened men of little conscience and foul temper. However they have a few unspoken laws, one of which is "Never attack a man with a drink in his hand". You see, there's a custom according to which you can sit yourself in the table of any old cutthroat if you give him a drink. He will then share his experiences with you. No greeting, no introduction, no nothing. For many lads this is the best and only education they'll ever get. It was in this way that I learned what I wanted from an old pirate of some renoun in his day.

I looked at the old seaman as he busied himself with the tankard of ale I gave him. A couple of menacing, tattoed snakes decorated his bald head. His skin was weathered and leathery, but not as sunbaked as a fisherman's. He sported a brown coat that was once crimson. A matching hat with a black wig sewn in it lied on the table. He was a pirate captain back in the day. "Cap'n Howdy" they called him, on account of his battlecry being a hearty "Howdy!". Captain Howdy finally lowered the tankard and looked at me.

"So what do you want to know about, lad?"

"I'm looking for sirens. Do you know anything about them, old timer?"

"Know? I've captured quite a few in my day! You bet yer boots I know about fethin' sirens."

Captain Howdy raised the tankard again and drank some more. It's a big tankard. Then he brought it down on the table forcefully, spilling what little ale was left inside.

"Sirens are the devil!" he said with a darkened expression. "They're purdy things and sound just as good. But their hearts are cold and hard as the rocks they live on. They sing all sense right out of yer head. Then you crush yer ship on the rocks as you try to reach them. The lucky men drown. The unlucky ones make it to solid ground and are set upon by the sirens. There be no survivors ever."

You raise an eyebrow at this.

"Then how come you're here tonight, drinking my ale?"

"I've killed and I've raped, but I never lie! Are ye callin' me a liar, lad?"

There was menace in the old pirate's voice. That he drew the attention of younger, eager and more numerous brawlers didn't inspire confidence either.

"I stand astonished is all."

Cap'n Howdy found this answer to his liking and eased back into his seat again.

"I suppose I'd be amazed as well. I've captured sirens, I'm this good but I've never heard 'em sing. I'd tell ye a story but me tankard's bottom is dry as the desert."

You motioned for a wench to bring you another one. Captain Howdy held his silence until a full tankard was in front of his glazed eyes. He took a swig and started mumbling as he looked at the ale inside. It was as if he was relating to you the things he could see in it.

"We was on the trail of a trade caravel. It was slow from all the wealth it was loaded with. We was almost upon 'em when the dog we had with us started abarkin' an' cryin'. It was so annoyin' I'd skewer the fleabag if it'd only sit still for a second. But then the accordion boy came to me, pale as the moon on a clear night. He grabbed me hand and wouldn't stop yankin'. I turned to smack him but I saw he was cryin'. Sure he was just a boy, but he was an orphan. He done shed his last tears long ago, or so I thought. I saw the caravel change it's course and head towards the rocks. That's when I realized there was sirens on them rocks. I ordered everyone to sing "Port Royal" as loud as they could as we turned the ship around. Soon enough we all knew that the bouty was lost when we saw the caravel throw itself upon the rocks. I looked with me spyglass as we left and I saw a siren pull the flesh off a man's chest with her teeth while he was still alive. Sirens charm ye when they sing, but they don't sing when they eat..."

The air felt heavy and the captain and I spent a few minutes in silence. His tankard-holding hand was shaking ever so slightly. I gave him some time to clear his mind as I collected my thoughts. Then he started mumbling again.

"Purdy things, them sirens. Ye can sell them whole or in pieces. Some fools fancy they can make them wives or concubines. I've heard stories of rich men in faraway lands who were charmed by the singing of their caged siren "pets" and were found starved to death. They'd forget they need food. Nah, safer to sell them in pieces."


"Oh ye. Pieces. Siren teeth are like pearls. Sum people wear 'em for jewelry. Rich "ladies" like to wear them around their fat necks and on their fat fingers. Siren hair make the most beout'ful wigs. Siren meat is sweeter than veal. Siren eyes can ward off hexes back to the person that cast 'em. Siren nail clippings can cure impotency, or so I've heard. And the best part is that you get to ravish them before you piece 'em. The cap'n's the first one in 'course, heheh."

You can barely hide your disgust, but if it's for the pirate or the people who buy these things you can't tell. Perhaps it's for both.

"So how do I capture a siren then, old timer?"

The Captain raised the tankard, turned it upside down and shook it. It was empty again. But this time he didn't keep quiet.

"Bloody heck, Nancy needs to get two-litres. Whatever. You see, some folks think the trick to catch a siren is to not hear her singing. You'll never catch one with that malarchy. Sirens look like women when on land, but if they get their legs soaked in saltwater, they turn into fish tails and they swim away. No, the trick's to approach their rock at night while they sleep. You must take a boat an' row as quietly as possible. Your mates must all be rough-footed because you must all go barefoot so as to not wake the sirens up with yer footsteps. It goes without sayin' that you shouldn't carry a torch, or else you might be spotted from afar. The moon is all the light you need. Each mate must go over a sleeping siren and wait. When everyone's in place, you'll bang on a casserole an' cause enough tumult to wake the dead. This way you won't hear 'em singin' if they try it. Each mate will grab a siren by the mouth as you do that. If there's more sirens than you've mates, then you'll either have to slit their throats in their sleep, which is risky, or let them flee to the sea and come back another time. You then tie and gag the sirens and throw them in yer boat. Don't ferry too many at a time because they're goin' to kick around. And if you're stupid enough to think about draggin' them tied behind your boat, then yer beyond help."

I made mental notes of the captain's advice. He went on about the less savoury details of which knot holds down a siren better during rape, recipes he'd heard on how to cook them, how to skin them, and who he sold what to. I heard nothing, letting it all out the other ear. All I cared about was to capture three particular sirens that recently made their appearance on Ravenwreck. What I'd do with them was a mystery even to myself...