The Old Buccaneer
by George Albert Leddy
IT COULD BE HE
OR PERHAPS THAT HE
THINKS IT IS ME
AND SO
EACH MAN MAY THINK
THE THOUGHTS HE THINKS
BUT LET NO OTHER KNOW
I stood all alone on the bridge that night when I heard the Captain shout:
“What are ye doin’ there, ye swab,
and what is it all about?”
Then all was still, and I wondered why;
it wasn’t the Captain’s way;
For he’d holler loud, and he’d holler long,
when he had aught to say.
But the sea was rough, and I held the wheel, and I dared not let it go;
So I rang the bell, and I called the Mate,
to come and look below.
Well, what he saw when he came aloft,
was the Captain lying dead;
A belayin’ pin is by his side;
a hole is in his head.
The burley brute who’d fought the sea,
and ruled with iron-hand;
Yet, never in his life was known
to harm a fellow-man;
Was lying now, on his own ship;
a lifeless hunk of clay;
And somewhere on that ship there was someone who’d have to pay.
And once again, a deed confirmed
a sailors firm belief:
"To bring a woman board-a-ship
is sure to bring it grief."
And that’s the thing the Captain did,
a-grinin’ broad and wide,
And introduced the lady as his new and lovely bride.
And through the days we sailed along
through waters calm and clear;
We part forgot the things we thought,
and part forgot to fear.
Then from the dark grim-death reached out,
and stole a life away;
And no man on that ship did speak, and none had aught to say.
It could be he, or perhaps that he,
thinks it is me, and so;
Each man may think the thoughts he thinks,
but let no other know.
While in the cabin waits the bride;
the one we scarcely knew.
We’d take her back to her own land;
it’s the best that we can do.
‘Tis night again, the moon appears; so big, so round, so bright;
The crested waves, like silver diamonds,
sparkle in its light.
I stand alone and listen to
the murmur of the waves;
And one last prayer I offer there,
o’er my lost Captain’s grave.
I turn about; I nearly shout;
a shadow do I see;
Belayin’ pin is in his hand;
he’s coming now for me!
But I’m alert, and by an inch, it whistles by my head.
‘Twas my good-luck he missed me,
and I had him now, instead.
The man whose brain was wrecked by hate,
now trembled cold with fear.
He chattered like a maniac;
his words were hard to hear:
He’d stowed-away upon the ship;
he’d sworn to take the life
Of the man who’d come into his home, and sole away his wife.
Well, I had known the Captain as a man who’d always been
The kind that thought that steeling wives
was really not a sin.
And all at once, I seemed to feel
this man was in the right:
He’d fought to save the one he loved; he had the right to fight.
So I lowered down a lifeboat,
and I placed them both inside;
And e’er a new sun kissed the sky, they’d drifted with the tide.
Now, that is many years ago,
I’m sitting here today
In a tiny room, in the Sailors Home,
that overlooks the bay.
I think of things that’s passed and gone,
and I have no regrets;
But, sometimes, often wonder if - ever God forgets.
I gave them life and liberty;
yet, sailing ‘aint so grand,
In a measly little lifeboat - a thousand miles from land.