heard through a veil,
two syllables in a darkness of a night at sea.
A lantern swung to and fro with the motion of the ship;
through the open slide-door, a glimpse of a grey night sea,
phosphorescent foam flying,
swift as birds, into the wake,
and the horizon rising and falling
as the vessel rolled to the wind.
Below, on the first landing,
lads and lasses danced,
in jigs and reels and hornpipes;
a god made of the fiddler.
In a different quarter, a more forlorn party,
the motion, here, in the ship's nose, violent;
the uproar of the sea overpoweringly loud.
The yellow flicker of the lantern
spun round and round.
The human noises of the sick (sea-sick, dog-sick),
joined into a kind of farmyard chorus.
A man, run wild with terror,
cried with a thrill of agony,
'The ship's going down!'
Repeated, in a whisper,
his voice rising towards a sob.
The emotion of his voice catching.
Picture credit: Woman on ship deck looking out to sea, (also known as girl at ship's rail), 1835, Maurice Prendergast (source: WikiArt).
Inspired by The Amateur Emigrant by Robert Louis Stevenson (from Steerage Scenes).
Written September 2021.
