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Many now, the years have passed,
Since I found my heart at sea,
And never have I shared the tale
That I now will grant to Thee ...

We'd been a-sail for fifty weeks -
Chasing blues and fins and sperms,
Filling, fast, the holds with oil,
To head home on good terms.

When early on a Friday morn,
Loud calls came from the crow:
"Ahoy, now, hard to larboard -
'Tis a whaleboat thar below!"

At first it looked to be adrift,
With naught but oars and mast,
But when we pulled a-side her,
What we saw left crew aghast ...

Three men lay in those gunnels,
While alive, just bones and skin,
Burned by sun and brine alike,
Long beards upon each chin.

Almost a week of food and care,
Then two more weeks, at sail,
Before I sat their captain down
And pressed him for their tale.

He told me they'd been sundered
By a massive whale, pure white,
And thru his hair, a shock of gray,
Had turned that way from fright.

Most of his crew had perished -
Drowned or ravaged by the beast,
The mighty ship sent to its ruin,
A small whaleboat left, at least.

They were adrift too many days
To thus number, or even care,
Precious little to sustain them,
(His eyes then glazed to stare).

"We saved two kegs of water,
By the will of God's good grace,
But not so any food supplies,"
(A darkness crossed his face).

"So many days at sea," said I,
"Slim chance to stay alive ...
How in the name of heaven
Did you manage to survive?!?"

What he said then shook me,
And it aged me twenty years,
A monstrous secret, now I wish
Had never reached these ears ...

His horror dripped from trembling lips,
Black eyes sunk to the floor -
"We are three men", he whisp'rd soft ...
"Yet once we were ... but FOUR."







~ 1st Place ~  in the "Brian's Select 6, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

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