The Mermaid from Jeju

by Sumi Hahn

  “You may inspect the basket, sir.”

  “What’s inside?” The man growled.

  “Seaweed, sir. And abalone.”

  His lips twitched under the bushy beard. “Abalone are one of the redeeming features of this forsaken island. Is that all you’ve got? Just seaweed and abalone?”

  “Shall I take off the pack, sir, for you to inspect?”

  “Of course.”

  Junja suppressed a sigh as she began unwinding the first layer of bindings that secured the wooden frame against her body.

  The constable held up his hand. “I don’t want to spend all day watching you take off your pack and then help you put it all back on again. Damn country bumpkins think you have all the time in the world. Just gimme the toll.”

  Junja opened the drawstring purse and pulled out two coins, which the man snatched from her fingers.

  “When do you plan to return?” The constable peered suspiciously at the coins before hiding them away.

  “Tomorrow morning, sir. I’ll have a piglet then.”

  “That’s another thing you Jeju folk do well: pork.” The man’s expression softened. “But I still can’t find trotters as good as my mother’s.” His stomach rumbled as he waved her to pass. “Move along, then. Move along.”

  Junja gave in to a sudden impulse. “Would you like some bing-ddeok, sir? I have enough to share.” She pulled a cloth packet from her waist bag and unrolled it, revealing two fat logs of millet pancakes filled with seasoned carrot, turnip, greens, and egg.

  “That’s mighty kind of you. A man gets awfully hungry working outside, guarding the road.” The constable grabbed the fatter of the two rolls. He took a large bite and chewed noisily as Junja wrapped up her remaining roll and tucked it away. Bits of food flew out of his mouth, sticking to his beard and mustache.

  The constable grabbed Junja’s arm, speaking through a full mouth. “This is good. Really good. Did you make it?”

  “No, my mother did.”

  “Does she live nearby?”

  “In Lonely Rock Village, sir.”

  “Do you think she’d be willing to sell food to a hungry officer like myself?”

  “I will ask her, sir, when I get back home.”

  “You do that. Tell her to ask for Constable Lee at the military office in Seogwipo.”

  Junja bowed again. “I really must go, sir. If I don’t hurry, these abalone will die.”

  “Go along, then! What do you think this is, a social call?” The constable gave her a shove.

  The girl started trotting to make up for lost time. She halted when the man shouted at her.

  “Wait! What’s your mother’s name? I’ll look for her if you forget!”

  “Goh Sookja.”

  The constable waved the girl away.

  * * *

  Junja squinted up at the sun. The air was warming quickly, and she had lost track of how long she had been walking since lunch. Blackbirds were winging their way overhead, squawking. As soon as she heard the gurgling stream, Junja pushed through the trees. She took off the pack so that she could scoop handfuls of water into her mouth. She rinsed her face and neck before putting the pack back on.

  The wide footpath, which had sloped gently at first, grew steeper and narrower as it threaded through evergreens, losing its smooth stamped surface and looking more like a faint trail scratched out by animals. The pack pulled at Junja like an anchor. Sweat trickled down her back, stinging where the straps had rubbed her skin raw. Grit and pebbles had needled into the straw shoes.

  With a grunt, Junja kept walking, ignoring the pain in her feet and the lightheadedness that made her want to lie down and sleep. So intent was her concentration on keeping her foothold that when the blur of fur and snout jumped up into her face, the girl was too startled to be afraid.

  A boar? She staggered backward, bracing herself for an agony of hooves and tusks.

  The heavy pack thudded against a tree, breaking her fall. Junja kept her eyes closed, arms crossed over her face. This was all her fault, for not following Mother’s directions to pay attention.

  “Are you all right?”

  At first, the girl thought that the beast had spoken to her in a human voice, like beasts often did in the stories Grandmother told. Junja peeked through her arms. Below her was a large yellow-white dog. He was looking up at her, pink tongue lolling out.

  “What did you say?” The girl looked down at the dog, which closed its mouth and cocked its head at her question.

  “My dog didn’t say anything at all.” A tall boy with a walking stick stepped out of the green shadows. One bushy eyebrow was raised in amusement, and his shaggy cropped hair was pulled back from his forehead by a scholar’s manggeon. Except for that black headband, he was dressed like any other man on Jeju, in baggy pants and a shirt the color of dried mud.

  “Who are you?” Junja grew alert. This ungainly boy looked strange enough to be a mountain troll, a dotchebbi who would steal her basket and torment her. If only she hadn’t thought those horrible thoughts! Mother was right; she had breathed bad luck into her venture by saying those stupid things.

  “My name is Yang Suwol. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The boy’s speech was polished, like a scholar’s, and his bow stiff. His prominent nose was crooked, as if it had changed directions midcourse, and his jaw was shaped like a spade. His eyes seemed to disappear into his cheeks when he grinned.

  Was he smiling or smirking? Junja scowled when she realized she could not move. “Your dumb mutt shouldn’t be running about scaring people.” She tried to take a step away, but the pack didn’t budge.

  The boy crossed his arms as the crook of his grin deepened. “My dog did not scare you; you scared yourself. And he’s not dumb; he’s the cleverest dog on Hallasan.”

  Junja grunted. The pack was wedged tightly between two saplings.

  “Actually, he’s more intelligent than some people.”

  The girl’s eyes blazed. “Don’t just stand there. I’ve got to bring this basket to the pig farmer’s wife of Cloud House while the abalone are still alive.”

  The boy yelped, leaping forward to tug at the basket. “My mother’s been waiting all morning!” He braced his legs as he tried to pull the basket free of the trees.

  “Careful! If you break it, everything will spill.”

  The basket creaked ominously but held together as it slipped free. The weight resettled on Junja’s shoulders, making her gasp.

  The tall boy did not speak as he began loosening the ties at Junja’s waist.

  “What are you doing?” Junja was shocked by the boy’s casual license. Who did he think he was to stand so close that she could smell his musk? She flushed.

  The boy cleared his throat. “I’m going to take the pack from you. Your feet are bleeding.” He was taking care not to touch her as he began to unwind the bindings.

  Junja looked down. One of mother’s straw shoes had fallen off. The white dog was sniffing a bloom of red oozing through the socks.

  “It doesn’t bother me too much.”

  “It bothers me, though.” The boy motioned to Junja to remove the gourd around her neck. The sweeping motion of his hand was so elegant that Junja could not help noticing how long his fingers were, with clean nails trimmed close to the tips.

  She hesitated before deciding that there wasn’t enough time to argue. She gave the gourd to the boy, who set it down on the ground before lifting the pack off her shoulders.

  The sudden absence of her burden made Junja’s body feel curiously light, as if she might float off the ground. She grabbed a tree as the ground seemed to tilt beneath her.

  “This is really heavy! I can’t believe you carried it this far.” The boy looked at Junja with respect. “Who are you?” He hoisted the pack with a grunt onto his back.

  “Goh Junja.”

  “I guess it’s true what they say about you haenyeo being tougher than most men.” The tall boy settled the pack on his shoulders and began winding
the ties around his waist. “Could you help secure this thing, please?”

  Junja bound the pack to the boy, handing him the loose ends of the ties, which he joined in a complicated knot low on his waist. After planting his stick, the boy took several brisk steps up the mountain path. The white dog followed, but then stopped, whining in concern.

  Junja was holding onto a tree as the world seemed to whirl around her.

  The boy crossed his arms as he studied her. “Dizzy?”

  Junja nodded.

  “You need water.” The boy handed her the gourd, motioning for her to take a drink.

  Junja pushed it away. “That’s saltwater, for the pack. I was supposed to pour it over everything when I reached the grandfather rock. The sun will be high in the sky soon, and the abalone will die.” She turned her head so that the boy couldn’t see her tears of frustration.

  “Don’t worry, miss. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Junja tried to stand. “I have to go with you …”

  “You’ll slow me down if you follow. I won’t forget to water the basket. Please stay here, and I’ll send someone to get you. Do you understand?”

  A sudden wave of dizziness made Junja slide to the ground. She managed to nod as she closed her eyes.

  The tall boy and his white dog loped away.

  * * *

  “Wake up, big sister!” A high voice pierced Junja’s ears; small hands shook her shoulders.

  Junja opened her eyes.

  A little face was staring at her, so close that the eyes seemed to have merged in the center, above the nose. Junja took the small gourd that the child was offering.

  “Mama says you must drink this while you are sitting down. Little sips, or else you will throw up.” The child opened her eyes dramatically, revealing a flutter of long, thin eyelashes and eyes as bright as a bird’s.

  Junja took a sip. “Who are you?”

  “Everyone calls me Peanut. I’m seven, but people say I look younger. I don’t think that’s true at all.” She cupped her chubby cheeks with her grimy fists and thrust out her lower lip. A fringe of black hair fell straight above her eyes while the rest of the little girl’s hair fit like a cap that reached below her earlobes.

  The girl was indeed unusually small for her age, but Junja didn’t say so. “You look exactly as you should look, I think.”

  “Big Brother said that you carried that huge pack up here all by yourself! He said you were a mermaid too. Is that true?” She wasn’t a pretty child, but her eyes were bright with curiosity. Her resemblance to her brother was unmistakable.

  Junja sat up when the girl mentioned the pack. “Were the abalone still alive?”

  Peanut made a face. “Mama poured water on them, and they moved. She was gonna make me hang the seaweed to dry, but I said I wanted to find you instead. No one is faster than I am because I know all the secret trails the rabbits use.”

  The little girl peered down at Junja’s legs. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you really a mermaid like Suwol said? Does that mean you can swim like a fish? And are you really stronger than he is?”

  Junja smiled before taking another sip of tea.

  Peanut hung her head and sighed. “Mama said I was s’posed to be quiet until you finished drinking the tea. And then we’re s’posed to start walking home.”

  Junja rose, holding onto a tree for support. Her legs were trembling and her feet ached, but the dizziness had subsided enough for her to start moving again.

  Peanut took her by the hand to lead her up the path. The sky was bright, and the small spring leaves shook in a slight breeze. The mountain stood massive and still, unlike the shifting sea.

  The two girls walked in silence until Peanut tugged wordlessly at Junja’s arm. The little girl’s hand was clamped over her mouth, cheeks ballooned out on either side.

  “Why are you covering your mouth like that?”

  Peanut let out her breath in a loud gasp. “Mama said I’m only s’posed to answer questions.”

  “Do you still want to know if I can swim like a fish?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Peanut hopped from one foot to the next.

  “Well, when I’m in the water—”

  The child interrupted. “When you’re in the water, your legs turn into a fish tail, right? That’s how come you can swim as deep as a fish, right? Can you breathe water like fish too? Have you seen the sea king?”

  Junja laughed. “You’re just like a rabbit, hopping from one thought to another. When I’m in the water, I use my legs like a fish uses its tail. And, no, I don’t breathe water like a fish. I hold my breath. For a long time. And, yes, I’ve seen the sea king. His ladies in waiting too.”

  Peanut’s expression flickered from disappointment to awe. “What did he look like?”

  “Big and fat like a manatee, with a long bristly mustache. He wore robes of green and purple seaweed, held together by a belt of shiny pearls.”

  The little girl’s mouth dropped open. “He must be very rich!”

  “He is. The sea king owns everything under the sea, even the treasure from sunken pirate ships.”

  Peanut balled her fists, quivering with excitement. “I wanna be a haenyeo like you! I’ll find the sea king’s treasure and become rich enough to eat rice candy and drink honey water whenever I want. And my piglets will sleep on new straw every night.”

  “If you keep shouting like that, you won’t have enough breath to walk home!” The little girl’s brother was standing at the bend of the path above them.

  The white dog scampered down to the two girls, panting.

  Peanut ran toward her older brother. “Carry me, Ohrabang! Please!”

  When Suwol pretended to refuse, Peanut began to pummel her brother with her small fists. “Carry me! Carry me!”

  The boy handed his walking stick to Junja. The little girl climbed onto his back. Suwol clasped his hands under his sister’s bottom, holding her up. Peanut grinned, and the dog leapt ahead.

  Four

  Junja had expected the pig farm to resemble her own home, a stone hut with a thatched roof, kitchen garden, and muddy pigsty, surrounded by black doldam walls. She blinked, confused, at the forbidding stone walls guarding the entrance, rearing up high as if they enclosed a military fortress. Once she passed through the front gate, she understood. Cloud House Farm was a nobleman’s compound. The curved tile roof of the main building jutted out proudly, shading the smaller structures next to it.

  The expansive courtyard bustled with people. A slight man staggered by with an earthenware urn roped to his back, followed by a stout woman barking directions. Two men balanced astride wobbly stick ladders while replacing the thatch on a tidy hut near the main house. A clutch of young children chased chickens while two older boys pulled squealing piglets on ropes. A group of squatting women were pulling out handfuls of freshly decanted dwenjang, placing the dripping soybean ferment into straw baskets to drain. Under the shade of a red maple, a tiny boy played with a pile of pebbles and sticks.

  “So many people live here!” Junja looked around in fascination as Peanut slipped off Suwol’s back.

  Suwol shooed away several small children who had toddled over to stare at Junja. They were naked from the waist down, too young for a chamber pot or outhouse.

  “I have seven little uncles and dozens of cousins. What about you?”

  Junja considered for a moment. “There’s only five of us: Grandmother, Mother, little brother, little sister, and me.”

  Peanut interrupted. “What about your father? Wouldn’t he make six?”

  “My father … isn’t with us anymore.” Junja didn’t want to admit the shameful truth, that he had moved away to the mainland, abandoning his family.

  “That’s so sad. I would miss my daddy so much if he died.” The little girl’s face turned tragic for a moment, before brightening as a cat streaked across the courtyard. “What about animals? Do you keep chickens? A dog or cat?”

  “We have chickens,
but no dogs. There’s a village cat, though.”

  Suwol threw a stick. When the white dog bounded away, Peanut followed. Both dog and child scampered away in response to a woman’s call.

  Junja laughed. “Your dog seems to think he’s human.”

  “Boshi is the smartest dog on Hallasan. Which means he’s the smartest dog in all of Jeju. Maybe even all of Korea.”

  “Boshi?” Junja stifled a giggle. “Like boshintang, the soup?”

  The boy grinned. “That’s what Mother threatened to turn him into if he didn’t behave.”

  Peanut ran back with a small wooden box and several strips of cloth. “Mama says I’m s’posed to take you to the spring, so you can wash your feet. You’re s’posed to cover the hurts with this medicine and cloth, so they don’t swell up red. And then mama says you’re s’posed to go to the shrine, like your mama always does. I can take you there!”

  The little girl turned sideways, tugging her earlobe. “Big brother, you’re supposed to do something with the pigs. I forget what, but Little Uncle said so.”

  Suwol laughed. “Peanut, whenever you lie, you always pull your ear. Everyone knows you’re not allowed to go to the spring. Give the bandages and salve to Junja.”

  Peanut thrust the box and cloth strips into Junja’s hands before turning to glare at her brother. “You think you’re so smart just because you’re studying to be a baksa! Wearing a scholar’s headband doesn’t make you one!”

  Suwol motioned to Junja to follow him. The two of them walked away while Peanut stamped the ground, howling.

  “How long will she scream like that?” Junja looked back as Peanut’s wails grew louder. Mother would take a switch to her children’s legs if they behaved that way.

  The boy kept walking. “She’ll only get louder if you pay attention. Just ignore her.”

  * * *

  The spring was a dozen paces away from the main house, past a small ridge. Suwol clambered up and then reached over to offer Junja his hand. “We’re taking the shortcut.”

  As the girl stepped up, the wind whipped her hair into her face. Junja pulled the strands away from her eyes, gasping. Below her lay the coastline: pale sand, dark rocks, shimmering ocean. The sky above was a bright expanse of blue.