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I got a nice little growth on my D.O. check it out! (maybe it'll metastasize into another trunk!)

The night before Greybeard’s encounter with the empty ship, his mind had been restless as a butterfly, and so he rolled out of his hammock with the middle watch, to pace the quarter deck and let his mind settle. Old Three Fingers Jack manned the watch, leaning heavily against the mast on the forecastle deck and humming tunelessly. There was a three quarter moon in the sky, but clouds obscured its radiance. Still, a faint sheen was cast upon the water, and Greybeard tuned his senses to the sound and feel of his ship. He could feel the pull of the light breeze upon the full and taut sails, and knew the first mate at the wheel was having an easy time of it, with only the softest swell from a following sea. The sharp smell of salt water mixed with the bitter tar of the deck filled his nostrils. He could hear the soft rush of the ship’s sides slicing through the cold water, and forsooth! He thought he heard a high voice singing. He looked toward the forecastle, but Old Three Fingers Jack’s low hum was not to be heard at this distance, and he stepped to the railing to admire the effervescence of the wake in the pale moonlight. But a cold shock shook his bones as he peered into the wake. What his eyes beheld his mind could not accept; a pale silver green form beneath the water, keeping pace with the ship. The silvery form darted nimbly inside and outside the wake, its precise form hidden by the bright bubbling sea foam, and the faint high-voiced melody seemed to emanate from the water. Greybeard closed his eyes tightly, then looked again, and sure it was still there, and it made a small, quick splash. “What fish is this that sings?” he wondered, full well knowing, and feeling a sense of dread as his mind answered, “This is no fish, Greybeard.” At that very moment , a swell rose and the slant of the water became as a pane of clear glass, and Greybeard was struck with the sight of a silvery female form with long white hair floating and streaming behind her, but her extremities were not human. She propelled herself forward with a muscled and scale-covered caudal fin, and the sight made the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. Greybeard knew the tales. He knew what dangers could befall a man who would listen to the song of the sea sirens. He knew the meaning of the appearance, here, tonight, before his own eyes, of this powerful mermaid, and for the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to feel fear in his heart. Just then, at that very instant, her bright eyes met his, and she smiled a cold, green, and watery smile. Then the moon came out from behind a cloud, the light reflected on the water, and she was gone.