A Sailor’s Tale
By Tony Radford

They left the port of Aberdeen in eighteen fifty three,
a crew of ten courageous men on the good ship Anne Marie.

Of Clipper-class, with triple masts, her colors for the Queen,
a heavy hold of Spanish gold, and tons of British tea.

In command was Herbert Mann, a captain tough as nails,
a driven man with worker’s hands, his place below the sails.

“Weigh the anchor, take the helm, we best be underway!
The course is set, we’ll head due west and travel twenty days".

Nathan Preen, naïve and green was on his maiden run,
an orphaned teen, his childhood dream, to sail the setting sun.

A spirit high, the daughter’s eye, a father’s pride and joy,
but Captain Mann won’t give her hand to any common boy.

Nate would have to prove his worth, to gain the Captain’s trust,
he’d mop the deck and shine the brass, he’d toil from dawn to dusk.

The day the journey first began, the skies were clear and blue,
the ocean calm, the trade winds warm, a pleasure for the crew.

But on day three, a violent sea had touched a blackened sky,
the lookout warned, “A major storm is all that meets the eye!”

Seaman Less had manned the nest, his hope to find a way,
a safer path to avoid the wrath that nature brought that day.

The Captain’s call, to brave the squall, “Our cargo must get through!”
Beyond their sight, the storm’s sheer might, not noticed by the crew.

They battened hatches, stowed the sails, took refuge down below,
the ship was tossed, direction lost and trouble in the hold.

The Anne Marie was taking sea, her hull so badly cracked,
and all around, a roaring sound, no chance of turning back.

For seven days they’d lose their way, they couldn’t navigate,
a shrouding veil of rain and hail, too blind to see their fate.

Seaman Frye was first to die when the sea reclaimed his soul,
whisked away by the salty spray, the storm would take its toll.

By break of day, the storm still raged, for Less the Reaper called,
atop the mast, he’d lost his grasp, a long and fatal fall.

The shrinking crew, now down by two, would struggle through the night,
no time for rest, the final test, they’d not give up the fight.

The mounting cost as more were lost while nature’s fury grew,
despite the valiant effort waged, ‘twas too much for the crew.

One by one, throughout the night, each man would meet his fate,
when Davy Jones would claim their bones, except for Mann and Nate.

As Nathan tried, the Captain cried, “Abandon ship you must,
take my daughter as your wife, you’ve earned her father’s trust."

Captain Mann, with rope in hand, a sacrifice to be,
the knot he tied for his final ride to the bottom of the sea.

Nathan grabbed the Captain’s hand, he couldn’t let him die.
“The Anne Marie, my grave will be!”, the Captain yelled with pride.

He did his best to reach the nest, his telescope in hand,
a distant shore not there before, he cried out “I see land!”

A sandy beach, just out of reach was coming into view,
but not before a jagged shore would break the ship in two.

Her deck had slipped below the waves, the Anne Marie was lost,
his mates were gone, he was all alone, he’d pay the final cost.

The ship was listing hard to port, so tired, he lost his hold,
she cast him free to hit the sea and the salty depths below.

Headed towards the ocean’s floor with no more will to fight,
upon his shirt, a gentle jerk, then up towards the light.

He hardly sensed his fast ascent so weak from lack of sleep,
was it God’s own helping hand that plucked him from the deep?

A day would pass before he’d wake up lying in the sand,
fresh air to breath, no memory of how he reached dry land.

Rolling over on his back, he gazed upon the sky,
the warming sun, no damage done, so happy he’d survived.

Bruised and weak, but on his feet, he took a look around,
in search for food and water too, whatever could be found.

He scaled the islands highest point to get a better view,
just rocks and sand, a barren land, provisions very few.

Just beyond the rocky shore, a ship there used to be,
so few remains, a tattered sail and pieces of debris.

That’s when Nate first sensed his fate, his chances looking bleak,
no food, no water anywhere, he wouldn’t last a week.

The days went by, then three and four, he felt the end was near,
to never see his love again was Nathan’s greatest fear.

Came day five, though still alive, his body growing frail,
but near the beach, within his reach, a sight his eyes beheld.

A seaweed basket filled with food just floating with the tide,
a turtle shell, fresh water filled, so thankful, Nate just cried.

But were his eyes just telling lies, or could this truly be?
The trembling hand of a desperate man, he plucked them from the sea.

So real indeed, he quenched his need, then paused and chanted grace,
this island home, not his alone, “My friend, please show your face!”

His stomach stuffed, he ate so much, some needed weight to gain,
a chance to wash his beard and locks, for now, his life sustained.

This sacred gift, he’d find adrift, the same place every day,
his gratitude for drink and food, but who the debt to pay?

One night late, he lay in wait, his desperate hope to see,
just who it was that always came to tend his every need.

Lying still in the nighttime chill a stirring sound he’d hear,
amazed was he, for soon he’d see a woman would appear.

With skin so fair, long blonde hair and eyes of sultry blue,
though void of clothes, her locks that flowed would hide some parts from view.

Quietly, he tried to hide, but just as he had feared,
a falling stone, his presence known, with a splash she disappeared.

Nathan peered, the water clear, no trace, just waves and foam,
she left no sign, no way to find the place that she called home.

Nate was sure the maiden’s lair would have to be close by,
he’d scouted most of the island’s coast, but saw no place to hide.

He’d not explored the northern shore, steep cliffs and crashing waves,
to scale the rocks, no shoes or socks, a task he’d failed to brave.

He’d rest the night, at morning’s light his journey would begin,
the risk of life, a willing price, this mystery had to end.

For half the day he made his way, so cautiously he tread,
the searing heat, his bloodied feet, a trail of scarlet red.

He paused to take a needed break, the pain by now severe,
but came along, a mournful song, to captivate his ear.

He couldn’t understand the words, but had no real desire,
as the penetrating melody would set his soul afire.

Along the coast, he chased the notes to learn from whence they came,
he’d lost control of his heart and soul, like a moth that’s drawn to flame.

Now the sound was growing strong, his journey near the end,
high atop the jagged rocks, around the final bend.

There below, a quiet cove with a waterfall and spring,
the water’s edge, a mossy ledge, a beauty lay and sing.

Above her waist, an angel’s face, so pretty and petite,
but shocked he be for now he’d see she had no legs or feet.

What did begin as supple skin below had turned to scales,
and where her legs and feet would be, he saw a fish’s tail!

But even though what he beheld had come as a surprise,
tales of lore he’d heard before, he’d written off as lies.

Stories told by sailors old, who’d sailed around the world,
described a creature - half a fish, the other half a girl.

The reputation Mermaids had was running ships aground,
distracting even veteran crews with hypnotizing sounds.

Nathan knew it wasn’t true, without her he’d be dead,
her thankless deed, to meet his needs, to make sure he was fed.

The only thing that mattered now, he had to bring her near,
to win her trust, to let her know, of him she should not fear.

Cloaked by darkness, down the rocks, he softly made his way,
to reach the ledge at water’s edge before she swam away.

Mission bound, without a sound, so silently he crept,
‘cause just below, so very close, a dreaming beauty slept.

So afraid his pounding heart would compromise his plan,
she’d not escape, for as she slept, he’d grab her by the hand.

An arm around his rocky perch, the other hanging free,
some slippery moss, poor Nate was tossed headfirst into the sea.

Dropping past the sleeping lass, the ledge would break his fall,
and down he went, his body limp, he couldn’t move at all.

A second splash, a gentle grasp, blue eyes and long blonde hair,
as once again a helping hand would bring him up for air.

In her arms and safe from harm, a mossy bed she made,
and pressed a sponge against his head in hopes his pain would fade.

Dazed and weak, he couldn’t speak, just satisfied to breathe,
to let her tend, a chance to mend, so glad she didn’t leave.

He looked into her pools of blue, his own reflection there,
an injured man, he raised his hand and gently touched her hair.

A sudden sense of self defense, her tendency to flee.
“Oh please don’t go, I need you so!” she heard poor Nathan plea.

She felt his fear, his voice sincere, and by his side she’d stay,
a man so hurt, she’d not desert, make sure he’d be okay.

Her natural skill for fixing ills, the like he’d never seen,
his wounds she’d treat, his head and feet, to him she was a queen.

While he healed, she brought him meals and gave him tender care,
with sharpened shell, his whiskers fell and then she trimmed his hair.

The words he spoke, though very few, she seemed to understand,
but no reply except a smile and gestures with her hands.

His wounds now gone and feeling strong, a happy man was he,
to him it seemed, he shared a dream with an angel from the sea.

The happy times he’d get to leave his isle of rock and sand,
to tour her world, a boy and girl would swim off hand in hand.

The chance to see what lie beneath, a world so rich and vast,
he’d hold on tight and enjoy the sights, that girl could swim so fast!

She taught him how to hold his breath, to stay beneath the waves,
a deep inhale, but still he’d fail to have enough to save.

When they’d dare get far from air, so far they couldn’t swim,
she’d softly press her lips to his and pass some air to him.

Always close to Nate she’d be, for him her heart so fond,
but not to dare a love affair, no everlasting bond.

So close they grew, but they both knew their love could never be,
between a man who lived on land and a creature of the sea.

Some nights late, he’d lie awake and hear her mournful song,
her heart in pain and tears like rain would fall the whole night long.

The pain she felt was his as well and at times he’d cry alone,
their internal flame was all in vain, his need - to get back home.

As weeks went by, he’d sit and sigh and think of times before,
his mind would roam to the girl back home on a far off distant shore.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see the day,
when another splendid sailing ship by chance might come his way.

A year had passed since he left that mast of the good ship Ann Marie,
and just like then, the warm trade winds brought a dark and violent sea.

A fearsome sight with lightning strikes, hard rain and pounding hail,
while Nate was safe in a coastal cave, on the sea he spied a sail!

A lonely ship that would rise and dip, being tossed from wave to wave,
a distracted crew with much to do for they had a ship to save.

Nate could tell from her bellowed sails that soon she’d pass on by,
but to swim that fast, he would never last, still he knew he had to try.

To hesitate would seal his fate so he chose to leave dry land,
and there she’d be, from beneath the sea, to take him by the hand.

It made her grieve to know he’d leave but she had to let him go,
to keep him there would not be fair, she truly loved him so.

Out to sea at mermaid’s speed, as the wind and ocean roared,
once in view of a wide-eyed crew, one cried, “Man overboard!”

They threw a rope, on the end a float, with a splash it hit close by,
then a salty kiss for the man she’d miss, in tears she waved goodbye.

Soaking wet, but safe on deck, the questions came his way,
“You’re still alive! How did you survive? Young Nathan wouldn’t say.

Aberdeen was a festive scene for a man they thought was dead,
and the very next spring, he gave a ring to the girl he’d planned to wed.

He’d live his life with a sailor’s wife, more adventures there would be,
but none so dear as the one that year back in eighteen fifty three.

In years of late, when old man Nate had consumed his share of ale,
the kids in town would gather ’round to hear an old sailor’s tale.

The one loved best, more than all the rest, was the time he was lost at sea,
when his life was spared by a maiden fair from the wreck of the Anne Marie.