Tumultuous, the ocean throws
a listing ship from wave to stew
where darkness swells and panic grows.
Then thunder stuns the shrunken crew.
They clutch at ropes or hopes and swear,
“The captain, he must get us there!”
—that island where they would retire
and share their tales beside the fire,
recounting swords that slashed at sails,
the cannonballs, the sharks and whales,
the pirates, mermaids undersea,
rare treasures lost to mutiny.
As lightning gives a glimpse of death,
the sailors gasp with famished breath
while water crashes bow and stern
and threatens wreckage when they turn
against the captain at this hour
—that stalwart soul, forever dour—
who helms the wheel, barks commands,
and summons all surviving hands
to save this ship, and fast, or leave.
They batten hatches, scramble, heave,
and stand united through the night
to not go down without a fight.
