Year of 1872 – Nor-Easter heads
unstoppable for the Nantucket
Coast; whaling ship coming in, would
never make it; the beacon from the
lighthouse goes out, the keeper was
drunk . . .
The Crimson to the ocean bottom
could not fathom – slammed into the
rocks; the splinters began at the bow
and continued on back ; running thru
the crew like a cutlass out of its'
scabbard . . .
It was too hard to determine what was
louder – the sound of the Crimson’s
timbers cracking, or sailor’s backs, both
resembled matchsticks giving into the
storm’s might as 15 foot waves kept on
battering . . .
Bodies quickly disappeared beneath
the surface, no survivors – lifeboats
no longer needed; the Crimson would
not be the last whaler to shipwreck, nor
its’ crew to have a burial at sea; years
passed . . .
There was a new lighthouse keeper
The one that caused the Crimson
and its’ crews demise fell to his death
Was cleaning the glass and got pushed
from behind – no suspects, was ruled
accidental . . .
Townsfolk believed it was the new keeper
Said he looked a lot like Samuel the
harpooner that was aboard the Crimson
Especially since the light would mysteriously
go out on stormy nights and cause whalers to
wreck . . .
No one could prove it, say his fiancé, but
she loved him too much, and said that it
wasn’t him – “He died five years ago, no
thanks to a drunken lighthouse keeper;”
But one winter’s day his identity came to
light . . .
The wife of the original keeper found a diary
after she snuck into the lighthouse – “Came
back from my watery grave to avenge my death”
“And to keep shipwrecking whalers until his
brother is dead, just like he killed mine!” ‘Loud
scream’ . . . !
Samuel was standing there in the dim light
Opened-up his jacket and pulled out a
large splinter from the Crimson; ran it thru
her; his fiancé walked-in, screamed; “How
could you?” “I no longer love you – leave!” He
did . . . ?
‘2009’ RLS
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~Nantucket Sleigh Ride~
(Whaler’s Lament Part III)
Our longboat was pulled along a darkened sea
We, like ghosts of whalers before, were mounted upon our splintered seats
The whale pulled us windward with a tremendous hate
Its tail flung water in several white-capped waves
And they smashed upon us, as-to taunt and hamper;
Alone the whale swam, on a mission of its own
Pulled us, pulled us – through the dark and wet
As we rode, images of you dear Maggie appeared on the waves crest
You seemed to speak to me, “I love you Samuel, infinitely”
Your voiced muffled as the longboat continued to sway and creak;
The whale nodded its head, as–if agreeing to continue the chase
The oarsmen’s hands, now bleeding – the harpooner summoned –
Readied in the bow of the longboat, bloodstained shirt, calloused hands, weathered face, oil-stained boots - his life’s station
We are here because of you, whale - the Nantucket Sleigh Ride continued;
Years of whaling rides upon my dreams, the nightmares – nighttime screams
I call out for you Maggie and our children, to draw you to my heart
But after nearing the shore to see you all, I row back out to the New Bedford
Unfaithful in love, kept secret by the un-mourning sea water
A landlubber’s life a student, the whaling life a tutor;
Deep with its first dead, like the lamb lead to slaughter
Robbing families of their dear ones
Like grains of aged sand – runs in the veins of darkened water
After taking its first whaler’s life, it hastens the others –
The ones who quickly suspend their wayfarer deeds, now ended;
It is in the small things that I am blind –
Our children’s first steps, their first words; holding you close . . . no longer wait for thee
Somewhere, somehow, the joys that I knew, rode out with the tide
I have often wondered, what did you see in me?
Was it my touch? My smile? – now all hidden, from the beauty of your eyes;
My thoughts of you quickly disappear, even if only for a moment
As we continue the chase – “Mr. Right Whale, we’re going to be picking an iron harpoon out of your liver!”
“Come about all ye oarsmen, come about . . .
~Whaler’s Widow’s Lament~
The sea is now cold dear Samuel
As images of you are meted out like waves
No one sees the pattern that it’s making -
Like graves cast upon immortality’s slaves;
Beyond this whaling island bound
Exiled by family and friends
I have been kept too long in distress
Now calling for you, my tears silenced in the wind;
The winter sea with its hollow rind
Put you into circumscription, to you it did confine
Far below the waves that crash
Now you linger in its chambers, lost in its icy grip;
I walk along the sea ~ coast
Across its salty trail
Slowly, as I cast withered flowers gently
My love for you ever on my mind;
A thanksgiving – the mother of your son and daughter
No sorrow – your end taken by the whaling-life
So fragile, like an agate
The human heart, emotions, chiseled by God in heaven;
My longing for you may bury me
The constant weeping - my cross to bear
I chose the mourning widow’s path
It is infinite and eternal – staped like old age;
Somehow though, I will live on
To stand alone with faculties capable
A young widow bowed in controllable grief
I, Maggie, your wife, will always love you.
Copyright © 2006 Tinka Boukes & Dennis O’Bell
TRASK
You alway have a twist in your tales!
I must echo what the other reviews have said, a narrative well delivered in strong detail and mystery. Well done!
John
Sandie Angel :o)