The Squall

I was sitting in my office and typing some of the notes from my conversation with the Captian from our morning walk. He said that he would be right down with a picture and a poem that he wrote about an adventure that he had at sea. I was typing for quite awhile before he came into the room and brought a huge picture in a frame into the room and a sheaf of papers. I smiled because as the picture was quite large, he had trouble handling all the papers he was carrying and he started to drop some of them. I looked at him and I could see that he would not appreciate me laughing, so I bit my lip and got up and approached him to take the papers out of his hands and pick up the few he dropped.  He just looked at me with those beautiful eyes and it was as if he dared me to say something about his awkwardness. 

He proped the picture on the wall and settled down in the chair and started to tell me all about his night on this clipper. It seems that he was on one of his many trips to deliver cargo to a port on the other side of the world when a terrific storm broke out and he and his men had all they could do to keep the boat afloat. The story was so enthralling that I listened without making a sound or asking any questions. The more he talked the more antimated he became and waved his arms around and started speaking louder and finally stood up and paced back and forth as he neared the end of the tale. He then handed me something that he said he wrote after he returned home and that no one had ever seen it before, but he wanted it to be in this book of mine.  I am going to share it with  all of you here.

THE SQUALL

                                      by    Captain McCain

SLIENTLY SLIPPING THROUGH THE SWIRLING FOG

IT’S SAILS FULL AND STRAINIING IN THE BILLOWING WIND

TOSSING VIOLENTLY FROM  STARBOARD TO PORT

ROCKING BACK AND  FORTH FROM BOW TO STERN

SEASONED SAILORS ONE AND ALL

NO THE DANGERS AWAITING THEM IN THE SQUALL

WAVES RUSHING OVER THE BOW WITH A THUNDEROUS ROAR

SAILORS  LASH THEMSELVES TO THE RAILINGS AND MAST

PRAYING TO THEIR GOD THAT IT WON’T LAST

SECURE THE BOATS STORES FROM THE GREEDY HANDS OF THE SEA

IT REACHES OUT FOR THEM IN ANGRY MOCKERY

“COME TO ME!”, IT SAYS, “FOR YOU ARE NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO FIGHT MY RATH!”

BUT THE MEN WILL NOT GIVE UP THEIR LIVES SO EASILY

AS THEY BAIL THE WATER FROM THE SHIP CARGO HOLD

THESE MEN THAT ARE STRONG, ABLE-BODIED AND BOLD

FOR THEY HAVE SEEN MANY A STORM AND HAVE LIVED TO TELL THEIR TALES

OF STORMY NIGHTS AND FLURRING SAILS

MUSCLES FLEXING AND STRAINING AGAINST THE ROPES

NO WEAKLINGS HERE  TO GIVE UP  THEIR HOPES

ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT AND INTO THE DAWN

THE WEARY SAILORS BATTLE ON

LOWERING THE SAILS AND LASHING THEM DOWN

THE SUN RISES IN THE EAST

THE WRATH OF THE STORM HAS CEASED

NO ONE HAS DIED ON THIS JOURNEY

ALL THE MEN WILL GO HOME

THE SEA HAS LOST AND THEY HAVE WON

SAILORS BODIES ALL TIRED AND WORN

GO TO SLEEP WITH THE UPCOMING DAWN

DREAMING OF HOME AND OF FIRES BURNING

DREAMING OF HOME AND FOR LOVED ONES YEARNING

 

I was so entralled in this poem that I hadn't noticed how intently he was watching me. His eyes glistened like coals and he sat stroking that wonderful face of his. He had such an amazing way of looking at you. Almost as if he could see inside and knew just what you were thinking. Sometimes, I swear he knew what I was thinking, and with that thought I started to blush. Oh!! dear!! I wouldn't want him to be able to know some of my thoughts about him. 

He smiled and chuckled . and got up and walked out of the room. Was he able to read my mind?? Oh! I hope not because I would have a very hard time not thinking about him and some of my thoughts were mine alone.