“I pray you, let me stand sponsor,” said the merman.
“That shall never be,” the fisherman made answer, “what part or lot have you in any christening?”
At that the merman grew very angry. “You fool!” he cried, “is the good-will of the sea nothing to you? Has she no treasures in her depths for those whom she favours?”
Now the fisherman had no mind to set the sea against him, moreover he was in haste; he therefore gave his consent, and hurried on. That same night a priest came to the little hut on the beach, and christened the baby, and they called her name Carey, because, like one of Mother Carey’s chickens, she had made her nest in the storm. And all the while the sea roared around the hut, and the fisherman, casting a furtive glance at the window behind him, saw that the merman was looking in. From that time forward things went well with him; his fishing prospered, and the tempest spared his boat. Nevertheless he resolved to say no word to his wife about the merman’s sponsorship.
Now when Carey had grown to be a little maid of some seven years old, she was playing by herself late one summer’s afternoon upon the yellow sands that sloped to the water’s edge. All of a sudden a voice called to her. “Carey!” it said, and again, “Carey!” Then, turning her head, she became aware of a merman, seated under a rock near by, and basking in the hot afternoon sunshine. He had a rugged, somewhat world-weary look, and the hair hung about his face like ribbons of brown seaweed, while his eyes were brown and gentle like the eyes of a seal.
“So we meet at last, goddaughter,” said he.
“Are you my godfather then?” asked Carey, and she came fearlessly and sat down beside him on the rippling sand.
“That I am indeed,” the merman made answer, “and here is a belated christening gift.” And so saying he hung about her neck a necklace of sea-shells. “Do not despise it,” he added, “though it looks but a poor thing. It may be that some day you will learn its worth, for so long as you wear it the sea will know you for her own.” Then he told her how it happened that he had come to be her godfather, after which little Carey said she must go home, but she promised to return to that same creek on the following day, and to say nothing to her parents of the meeting.
So the next day she came again, and the day after, and every day throughout the summer she ran to the little creek to see her godfather, and hear from him strange songs and stories of the sea, to which she loved to listen, for all they were so sad. And in the winter, when the rough weather kept her indoors, she would sit contentedly by the fire while her father was mending his nets and her mother span, and would tell over the wondrous tales to herself till she had them by heart. Nor was it long before the summer came again, and then another winter.
Now one Christmas night Carey lay broad awake, and listened to the bells from the grey church on the wind-swept cliff, chiming far and wide across the sea, and on the following morning she slipped out unnoticed and ran to the sheltered creek. This time her godfather was nowhere to be seen, but nothing doubting she called to him, standing barefooted where the waves broke, and at her call he rose straightway out of the sea.