Young Wilson stumbled upon the curious remains while walking the Lake Erie beach. The specimen was a section, nearly a foot long, of what appeared to be a tentacle from a sizable beast. There being no other parts lying about, he rushed back to Captain Dirk with his solitary prize and displayed it for his assessment. The crusty captain was tolerant of the youthful investigations of his son, but wished him to show more interest in affairs of the ship rather than the shore. He examined the specimen through squinting eyes and turned it about. “Certainly a mysterious thing, this,” he mumbled. “I’m not aware of any of the fish kind that would possess such a limb.”

  The other hands were engaged in net repair, so didn’t even look up when their lanky shipmate rushed by the tarring vats with his find.  Like their captain, the crew was accepting of the adventurous lad and often contributed to his cabinet of curiosities. They would attempt to identify his various finds and elaborate upon subjects about which they knew absolutely nothing.  Not one to elaborate upon such things himself, Captain Dirk turned to his resident blowhard to perform the duty. “Simms,” the captain called out. “What do you make of this?”

  The beckoned deckhand slowly rose from his labor and limped over. His face recorded a slightly worried demeanor as he approached. “What ever it is, Capt’n, I’ve nothing to do with it.  Now, Taylor over there was him that put young master Wilson up to it, I’m sure.”  “Simms,” Dirk responded, “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. Look here at this curiosity and tell me if you’ve ever seen anything of the sort.”

  Upon beholding the specimen, the blood drained from the sailors face and his stubbly beard erected as his lips pursed. “Oh my, sir, it’s a frightful thing you are holding there. It surely is a piece torn from Nymphaea herself.” At this revelation, the seasoned captain and his juvenile counterpart registered the same expression of wonder – if this is part of an immense water creature, then what of the beast that rendered it so? 

  The tentacle was a leathery section of sun-dried skin (view it here). It was greenish brown in color and bruised like a rotten banana peel. What appeared to be sucker discs were rough textured ovals with three to five smaller pores beneath. Most of the inner muscle fiber was gone and what remained were but a few sinewy threads. It was obvious that this section was violently rent from the beast.

  “Where’d you find such a thing, young Wilson?” inquired the sailor. “Up the beach there,” responded the lad, but he hesitated briefly before continuing, as if taking in the gravity of his statement, “there at Deadman’s Point.” Simms took in a breath and his eyes darted from side to side. “Better keep this to yerself, lad.  The Nymphaea is only a legend. I’ve never seen her, but if it gets out that she really exists, well, there’s no accounting for the actions of sane men.” He addressed this last portion of the phrase to the captain. “They say she’s a Manitou of sorts that lures sailors to certain death. She beckons ships to wreck in the shallows. Her beauty is beguiling.”

  Captain Dirk shook his head and retorted “How can a creature with tentacles be beguiling, Simms?” The sailor hesitated for a moment and quietly whispered “that’s the part you don’t see until it’s to late.”  The issue was put to an uneasy rest for the remainder of the day and the tentacle was locked up for safe keeping. Simms feigned illness, so as not to be tempted into spilling the beans to his crewmates. Doctor Gillhouse was summoned the next day with the hope that he might shed some light on the matter while “curing” sick Simms.

  The portly doctor sauntered up the dock to the Mystery, Captain Dirk Wilson’s ship, early in the morning. Young Wilson greeted the bowler topped physician with bubbling enthusiasm. “Doctor Gillhouse, you won’t believe this one! I’ve found…” His statement was cut off as his father appeared above deck and loudly proclaimed his own greeting. “The patient’s in my room, follow me,” he beckoned while bringing a single finger up to his lips and darting a glance at his son.

    Inside the dark interior of the room, Simms was there sitting up and looking as well as an over-indulging simple minded Tar can look.  The real patient was quickly presented to the doctor before he could ask the nature of the sailor’s illness.  “Ah,” the healer proclaimed, “another treasure from the Wilson curiosity cabinet. I’d be happy to assess it after I treat your man here.” “There ain’t nothing wrong with Simms,” said Dirk, “at least nothing that an earthly man like yerself can treat. No, it’s this tentacle that requires some examination.”

  The good doctor was a man of letters, well versed in all scientific pursuits – including natural history. “Tentacle,” he snorted, “you mean this?” He picked it up and chuckled. “Why this is nothing more than a piece of Nymphaea odorata.”  Simms fairly exploded with pride and declared “You see, It’s exactly what old Simms thought it were. It’s a real tentacle from a real sweetwater sea monster!” Before the captain or the son could react, the doctor continued. “This, sir, is a tuberous rhizome from a Fragrant Water Lily.”

  “But you said it was from Nymphaea,” the dumfounded Simms shot back. “You used those very words, you did.”  Gillhouse then patiently explained. “My dear sir, ‘Nymphaea’ is the Greek word for Water Nymph – those virgin goddesses that lived in the aquatic realms – and it represents the genus name for water lilies. ‘Odorata’ refers to the wonderful smell put out by their early summer blooms – thus the common appellation of Fragrant Water Lily. This is the root, actually a rhizome or stem, from which the plant grows.”

  “Well, son,” sighed Captain Wilson addressing his son, “looks like Simms wasn’t completely wrong. The beautiful part is above the water, the lilies be found in the shallow bays, and the ugly part is hidden from the eye.  But it ain’t no sea beast.”  Simms offered a cock-eyed smile at his partial vindication and a blink at the young Wilson.

  “Yes,” the doctor pointed out on the specimen, “you can see here those ‘sucker discs’ as you call them are the scars where the leaf stems were. And see here, those clustered little holes underneath are where the roots came out. You might want to take a look in latest edition of King’s American Dispensary by Felter and Loyd.” He pulled out a massive text from his bag and thumbed to the relevant page. “Here it is…says that ‘the white pond lily has a blackish, large, fleshy, perennial rhizome…it is often as thick as a man’s arm.”

  Slamming the tome shut, the doctor declared “had a real illness been the purpose of my call, I well might have used a decoction of this root to cure you of digestive ills or as a poultice for a sore.”  He returned the book into his satchel and headed for the deck. Stopping at the doorway, he paused and turned back to the relieved trio. “Young Wilson, I expect that someday you’ll find me a piece of a real sea monster, at which point I’ll be very grateful and will consider my bill paid.  Good day gentlemen.”