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Perigrin
and the Mermaiden
From "The Welsh Fairy Book"
by W.
Jenkyn Thomas [1908]
ONE
fine September afternoon, about the beginning
of the eighteenth century, a fisherman of St.
Dogmael's, whose name was Pergrin, was rowing
in his boat near Pen Cemmes. Looking up at the
rocks casually, he thought he saw a maiden in
a recess of the cliff. Pergrin was an inquisitive
man, and he determined to see what the strange
lady was doing. He rowed ashore as quietly as
he could, stepped out of his boat and crawled
up to a place where he could see into the recess
without being seen himself. He espied a lovely
maiden--at least, above the waist she was a lovely
maiden, but below the waist she was a fish with
fins and spreading tail. She was combing her long
hair so busily and intently that she had no suspicion
that she was being watched, and Pergrin gazed
upon her for a long time. During that time his
mind was active, and he determined to carry her
away. Putting his resolve into action, Pergrin
rushed at her, and taking her up in his arms,
carried her off to his boat. There he fastened
her securely, and turning his boat's nose in the
direction of Llandudoch (that is the Welsh for
St. Dogmael's), began to ply his oars vigorously.
When she realised her situation, being a woman
(at least, as far as the waist) she wept, and
begged Pergrin to let her go. Pergrin, however,
though he answered her very kindly, would not
accede to her tearful request, but carried her
home and shut her up in a room. He treated her
very tenderly, but she refused all meat and drink
(she rejected even the best cawl, with hundreds
of eyes in it), and did nothing but shed tears
and beseech Pergrin to release her. A famous man
once said that as much pity is to be taken of
a woman weeping as of a goose going barefoot,
but Pergrin had never heard this saying: it would
have made no difference if he had, for he was
soft-hearted, and the sight of the beauteous half-woman's
eyes becoming red, and her nose swollen with the
constant drip of salt water, affected him profoundly.
Moreover, as she persistently declined food, she
became thin and peakish. To add to his anxiety,
a friend of his, who knew far too much to be a
pleasant companion, told him what had happened
to a man in Conway who caught a mermaid. She prayed
him to place her tail at least in the water, but
he refused, and she died. Before dying she cursed
her captor and the place of her imprisonment.
The captor had gone from bad to worse, and had
perished miserably: the people of Conway have
been so poor ever since, that when a stranger
happens to bring a sovereign into that harp-shaped
town they have to send across the water to Llansantffraid
for change. So when the tearful prisoner at last
said to Pergrin, "If thou wilt let me go, Pergrin,
I will give thee three shouts in the time of thy
greatest need," he accepted her offer. Carrying
her down to the strand of the sea, he put her
in the water, and she immediately plunged into
the depths.
Days and weeks passed without Pergrin seeing her
after this. But one fine hot afternoon he was
out fishing in his boat, and many of the fishermen
were similarly engaged. The sea was calm, and
there was hardly a cloud in the sky, so that no
one had any thought of danger. Suddenly the mermaiden
emerged out of the blue, sunlit water and shouted
in a loud voice, "Pergrin, Pergrin, Pergrin, take
up thy net, take up thy net, take up thy net."
Pergrin instantly obeyed, drew in his net with
great haste, and rowed over the bar homewards,
amid the jeers of all the others. By the time
he had reached the Pwll Cam a dread storm overspread
the sea: the wind blew great guns and the waves
ran mountain high. Pergrin reached dry land safely,
but all the other fishermen, eighteen in number,
found watery graves.
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Perigrin
and the Mermaiden - From "The Welsh Fairy
Book" © W. Jenkyn Thomas [1908] |
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