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TOLD BY THE TIDE
by
Cambell Rae-Brown
Eager mothers, and wives and children
are waiting the homeward bound,
They are gathered near the lighthouse,
at the pier head, out in
the sound.
The wild waves are crashing around them,
all lashed into seething
foam,
For the wind is high and fearsome,
and the ship? Will she get safe
home?
Ah, that was one hearts’ question,
the tossed hearts that watched
and wept
Would the ship make the sound in safety?
Then a prayer to the lips
uplept.
A prayer to the Father in Heaven,
the ruler of winds and of seas,
“Oh, God, send them home in mercy!
For the sake, not of us, but
of these.”
Then the infants warm to the bosom
are gathered there closer still,
“Good God send them home in safety,”
But the wind roars on at his
will.
What, what is far in the offing?
The gleam of a shining sail,
Or Is It a white cloud drifting,
or a sea bird lost in the gale?
A moment of awful waiting,
a heat-beat, and what - relief.
Ah, no - it is only a phantom
fashioned out of a woman’s grief,
Only a boundless ocean
of billows slashed black and blue.
Only that ’tween the wives and the mothers,
and the ship and her
home-bound crew.
“But look!” cries the voice of a woman,
“Look! look!” comes the
frenzied wail,
“Out there as the lightning flashes,
that speck yonder - yes, ‘tis
a sail!”
‘Twas a sail. Yes, the ship is tossing
like a toy on the tide of
a stream,
With never a hand to guide her,
with only a storm fiend’s gleam.
To light her along the ocean
that is curling across her bows,
As Neptune mingles his curses
with a terrible night’s carouse.
Drunk - mad with their merry drinking,
all drunk save the skipper
and mate,
Who stand, with their backs to the bulwark,
both courting their
cruel fate.
“Your wives, they are waiting, you fellows,”
cries the Captain’s
calm, manly voice
“Your children’s kisses are ready,
your old mothers’ hearts rejoice.
Keep back, or I fire, you hell hounds!
Keep back if you care for
your life,
For the sake of your souls,” cries the mate,
then, “Keep back,”
prays the skipper’s wife.
And the young thing falls back lifeless,
with a red stain dyeing
her brow
From the cut of a well aimed bowie,
whose wielder is dead, too,
now.
With a shot from the Captain’s pistol,
gone home down deep in his
breast,
And thus it fares with his fellows - no,
there’s not a man of the
rest.
That escapes the skipper’s vengeance
for the death of his sweet
girl wife,
Five of them fall from the pistol,
two of them die ‘neath the
knife.
Gone mad in his grief and passion,
he takes the dead woman’s hand,
Then coils the cold arms about him,
and looks towards the distant
sands.
“Good bye dear old friends, ashore there,
Good bye dear old ship
on the sea.”
And he stabs his heart on her bosom,
“We’re together again,” laugh’s
he.,
The wind was fair for the homeward bound,
and the ship drifts merrily
on
Drifts bravely across the harbour bar,
as if never a hand were gone.
Fond hearts were wet with tears of joy,
dear faces are bright and
gay
But there wasn’t a living soul on board
of the ship that came home
that day. |
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