Come Young Pirates, Part X I V - A Mighty Ghost Ship,100 Meters Fore And Aft Poem by Captain Cur

Awash in war our hearts must be
Filled with waves of misery
Those once bright faces dead and wan
With no young wives to cry upon.
They gave their passion to the sea
Their bride for all eternity,
They'll find no peace this final day
Blindness befalls them on their way,
The trappings of the road are black
No imprints left to guide them back.

We drift below a sunken sky
On no one but ourselves rely
The dead now sail the phantom fleet
On misty decks with soundless feet;
Mere shades in disembodied ranks
Still hear the creaking of the planks
And fear the horrors of the deep
That thin disguise of restful sleep.

And not as they were once before
Now shipwrecked on a lifeless shore
Windless and forever still,
They cannot move, or dream or will;
From the heavens forever shun
Just gloomy skies to gaze upon
And craven darkness in each wave
No stone markers name their grave;

But, still a phantom heart might beat,
Tongues might sound through gnashing teeth
Wandering forever in a maze
Encircled by a liquid cage;
Never to feel a warm caress,
Or a soft hand upon their chest,
Their days are brokered, paid in woe,
Where there's no warmth, just numbing cold.
If then by chance an eye might fill
And blood might flow and bones unchill;
A commanding voice is heard,
Of deadly strength, and rawest nerve,
A bright light shining on his brow
And calling with a mighty howl!

Below a great ship heeds command
Masts rising through the pressured sand
With massive cracks of displaced stone
Its undraped sails and ribbings shown.
The ocean's floor split giving way
Exposing decks and cabin bays
And through the deafening roar
The steady pull of unmanned oars;
A looming hull of unknown craft,
A hundred meters fore and aft,
Its bow adorned with rods of steel
Smooth and icy to the feel.
Then gleaming through the crystal silt
Wide tiers on which the canons sit
And stored on racks thick and tall
Rows and rows of cannonballs,
Armories, quarters, all were there,
A ghost ship crewed by death and fear!

Sails lifting with a wavy blast
Casting shadows bold and black,
What appeared to be living skulls
Visible through the settling mud,
Embedded deep into the sails
Screaming out with fleshless wails,
That such a thing could be devised
Sparked dread in each man's frozen eye!
Then that voice, commanding called,
Their Captain standing grim and tall,
And one by one they entered in
Until each had paid his debt of sin.

The pilot's wheel, mahogany,
Timbered from earth's primeval trees;
Decking's shone with dark lustrous shine
From blackened oak long lost to time
Each detail sharp, its markings cast
Black onyx on a sea of glass.
At night it glides in mournful sound
By day beneath the ocean's shroud,
Seizing whirlwinds, billowy gales,
Those winds held captive in its sails
Unsurpassed in tangent waves
Though heavy laden, lightly sways
Bristling in the mist drenched air
Tacking sharply as it veers,
With a speed the marlins gauge
Prowling with an angry rage
Surmising ships of weaker class
To take them or to let them pass.
From the bowels of its holds
The oarsmen's ranks increase tenfold,
The pounding of the hammer's tone
Leave each man's thoughts to him alone
Pulling with sheer muscled strength
Drenched with salt stained musty sweat
When released from the slaver's keep
To the hammer's rhythm fall asleep.

Perhaps an inlet or a beach
Might give the crew some slight relief
As they wander on the shores
And look upon their vessel moored,
For through the misty midnight moon
No longer see a ship of doom;
The beauty of the beaming bay
On a green sea with clouds of gray,
Beneath the flowering isle lies
Volcanic ash that churns and hides,
From the lava and the rock
A lush paradise floats on top
Unearthing this exquisite jewel
In reds and greens and turquoise hues.
For in the marvels of this light
Prescience gleaming shining bright
As all souls in great despair
Might show scarred stitching's of repair;
To ponder on their forceful ship,
Then dawns a query to their lips,
Did we honor as men of earth
The one time gift of human birth?
Worthless men in a life of breath,
Precious souls in the realm of death!