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remained. The ship, the ‘Neptune’, as it had been named many long years before, screamed too, though her complaints were for the ferocious winds that tore at her frame, and the staggering waves that clashed at her hull.
    The day had been spent in preparation. First job had been to tend to his wound. The row of punctures created by the eel’s teeth were each individually deep, yet by a stroke of luck the creature had failed to tear out a larger piece. The Mariner found some old, damp bandages in a cupboard below deck, and rapped them as tightly as he could to stop the bleeding. Infection was his main concern. The whole region throbbed and grew increasingly maroon. What sorts of diseases did eels carry? What sort of poisons could they secrete?
    Once he’d stopped the bleeding he attended to the ship, preparing it for the imminent storm. He bolted hatches and reinforced sails. He put everything not nailed down below deck, and yet still he was afraid. They were a long way from land. How long had it been since he’d bid farewell to Absinth and sailed East? Countless days. Endless nights.
    Finally, absolutely sure he’d done his best to prepare the Neptune, he’d sat down on the floor and masturbated. Conjuring the sights of the previous evenings, it was easy to achieve an erection, though knowing an eel was behind what he’d seen made him feel nauseous. He sat there, feeling so sick he could throw up, yet so aroused he couldn’t help but rub vigorously, replaying the previous night’s events in his head, and hating himself every moment.
    Tonight the eel would return and he had to be as best prepared as he could. To resist, he had to reduce his libido.
    He ejaculated. A grim grunt and a spurt and then all the shame he could handle. Despite this, and the soreness in his flaccid penis, he began again. Just to make sure.
    But all the preparation had been in vain. As soon as the sun dimmed, not just one, but many arrived. A whole shoal, eager for food, eager for meat, a whole army whose powers meant that the women from the night before were not alone. Tonight there were hundreds.
    On all sides, as the Neptune carved a path through the waves, gathered an enormous sexual congregation. Each meagre defence he’d erected was crushed beneath the illusion’s awesome weight. As far as the eye could see were scenes of erotic excess. On one side, three nubile women cavorted, each naked to his eye. On another, two more undressed slowly, trying to tease with every movement of fabric.
    It were not just women conjured from the waves. Statuesque males, bodies toned and mighty, penises long and firm, grappled with their concubines. They did not seem threatened by the Mariner’s presence. They too refused to look his way.
    All about the Mariner were offered orifices, scenes so tempting that not even the most devout holy-man could resist. Yet between the bodies and the ship, and in the brief gaps between them, the Mariner could spot hundreds of eels, all fighting amongst themselves for a close position, all determined to be the first one to taste the flesh of the deluded human. It were as if he’d already flung himself over-board, such were their frantic jostling. Yet their eyes remained glazed and cold. Glass eyes. The water churned with oily brown bodies as they slipped against each other, jaws snapping at air.
    And yet he could not watch their horror for long, soon his attention would be drawn back to the sights they promised, all in exchange for the paltry price of his meat and bones.
    All ages of eel must have gathered tonight as their skills varied widely. Some sprites were remarkably realistic, others were almost cartoonish in their simplicity, containing next to no detail except upon sexual organs. Some sprites, whilst realistically designed, lacked any beauty at all, and moved with a false jerking motion, utterly bereft of eroticism. It were as if each eel were competing, trying to lure him in their direction. In some regions,