The Tale on a Bloodied Screed

We were swept up onto this rocky coast

By a storm in ’93,

There were thirteen passengers and crew

And a stowaway, that’s me!

The ship was holed on the jagged rocks

And it sits still out in the bay,

We’ve never been able to fix the hole

So it looks like here we’ll stay.

 

It sits forlorn when the tide is low

But is covered when it’s high,

As the breakers beat on the after decks

Though the ship is never dry.

The water pours from the cabins, and

Lies deep in the forward hold,

While the rust is eating the hull away

And the cargo’s turned to mould.

 

We thought that we’d soon be rescued

By a ship just passing by,

But all we saw for a month or more

Was the lonely sea and the sky,

We made our camp on the beach where we

Could watch for a passing light,

And cook our fish on the signal fires,

But the trouble came at night.

 

The crew of seven were restless and

The passengers were few,

For only five of us men were there

And the women, only two.

One, the wife of a clergyman

The other a girl called Gail,

And she was sweet on a man called Deet

That she’d met before we sailed.

 

But Deet had fought with the bosun

Over the fish he said were his,

They moved away, went around the bay

To seek their Island bliss.

That left the clergyman’s wife with us

Who was praying we’d be found,

But late one night, in another fight

The clergyman was drowned.

 

The bosun dragged her away from us

With Froggat, Jones and Lees,

They took the struggling woman with them

Deep into the trees,

There wasn’t a thing we could do for her

So we went out to the ship,

And armed ourselves with iron bars

While we told ourselves: ‘They’ll keep!’

 

We moved our camp from the other crew

For the feeling there was mean,

The three the bosun had left behind

Hid out where they’d not be seen,

But then, at just about midnight we

Were hearing an eerie wail,

For down at the beach they’d murdered Deet

And dragged off the weeping Gail.

 

From deep in the trees we saw that Lees

Was trying to reach our spot,

His head was covered in blood, but then

He fell from a single shot,

The bosun was dragging Marie, the wife

To the open, by her hair,

Her dress was soiled and her face was spoiled

With the tears of a deep despair.

 

We didn’t see Froggat and Jones again,

They’d fallen to the knife,

But I had to run from the bosun’s gun

In order to stay alive,

Then under the cover of darkness we

Went after the weeping Gail,

And beneath the stars with our iron bars

We left a bloodied trail.

 

We caught the bosun asleep one night

And we beat him with our bars,

He didn’t have time to wake before

We dispatched him to the stars,

That left just Jeremy Leach and I

And the women that we’d saved,

For Gordon died of a fever then

And we dug his sandy grave.

 

It looks as if we’ll be here for good

So I’ll sign this bloodied screed,

Place it safe in a bottle then

And commit it to the seas,

We won’t fight over the women for

Marie is now with Leach,

And Gail has a tiny stowaway

As she wanders along the beach.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Barbz]

The stowaway, his fate was sealed by sneaking on that ship, with thirteen other passengers going on that trip. The storms at sea, and in the bay tossed the craft as if, it couldn't hold the 13, as I if it was a skiff. Holed upon the rocks and no rescue was viewed, tempers flared, the women scared, inevitable death ensued. This story has no ending, except that all was lost,but not for those that walk the beach with memories of the crossed. Outstanding Sir David......as usual. Barbz

[Avinash]

In India the sex ratio is dwindling. There are only 929 women for every 1000 men. Now I know why they can not live in peace after reading your story :)

[R Smith]

a great story David, a sad indictment of human nature as this tale tells it probably like it would be but you made a magnificent poem here, i believe one of your best and that is saying quite a lot :)

[DoormanDan]

This is an interesting read. You made it a hybrid between a poem and a story, which i dont see very often nowadays. It was very entertaining, and flowed greatly! Spectacular job sir! :)

[Valentine]

A very interesting tale. Now is the stowaway with Gail the writer of the yarn, or is it a babe forming inside of her. I bet in the olden days there were many ships and people that met this kind of a fate. Interesting, thank you for asking me to read it. Kathie

[Marie]

That sounds exciting. Seven men by themselves would have managed all right.They would have worked together and made some sort of life. But with women thrown into the mix, there was bound to be trouble.

[MomzillaNC]

Wow! This one has a sweeping, cinematic feel to it. I can completely see the ending, the last shot of Gail, with her swollen belly silhouetted, wandering the water's edge around a bend, show the expanse of the sea glistening to the horizon under the glaring sun.