"Does it?  Perhaps I'm using the wrong language. You humans have so many to choose from..."

"Est-ce mieux ?" She asked.

"No?"

"¿Y ahora qué? ..."

"Is this better?"

"Alright then.  Your human languages are all so confusing." She smiled.

"Yes of course,"  she said.  "The ocean tells us what we need to know.  Haven't you heard it?"

Beryl gasped as if that was the most horrible thing she'd ever heard

"It is like never knowing your mother's voice!" She said.

"The sea is always with you here, but you've not once heard it's call?  Surely that is why you chose to sail it?"

"And you've never heard it once..."  She gave her a pitying look.

She looked down at the sea with sad eyes, before leaning over the edge of the boat to grab something.  Rising again,  she now held a conch shell in her hand, though how she got it was a total mystery, as the sea was far too low down to reach even from leaning down. 

"Put it to your ear."

"Now try to hear it."  She coached.

It definitely sounded like something, but wasn't really any different than a normal conch shell.

Beryl gave a small, soft smile.  "You'll learn to hear it eventually.  It's always talking to us, you just need to learn to listen. "

"Yes. The shell is simply a tool to help you hear, but someday you may be able to hear without it."