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Part three of the trilogy
#20403
11/24/09 08:35 PM
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Joined: Oct 2009
Posts: 21
Peter J Hill
OP
Junior Member
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OP
Junior Member
Joined: Oct 2009
Posts: 21 |
Saints and Angels The First Bell Rock Keepers
I hail from the town of Dalkeith and cutler was my trade Till one night when much the worse for drink an error I had made That robbed me of my freedom and my masters of their lad. Unworn was my glove that carried my indenture seal To prevent the pressgang in their over zeal To place the Kings shilling firmly in my hand And drag me from my revelry and from my native land
It was Navy swords and cutlasses that I was put to task Amongst other shipboard duties on the frigate “Ravenglass” We sailed what seemed the seven seas looking for our foe For months on end and no sight of land to rectify my tale of woe Then one day we encountered her; a Frenchman twice our size Our Captain’s foolish bravery sought to take her for a prize. With twice our crew it soon was us that met with their demise
We would languish in some Marseille gaol Till an exchange could be arranged Afore disease should shake from us our mortal coil Nelson and Trafalgar had made prisoners a plenty On “Resolute” we could recoup and homeward bound for bounty Freedom came at such a price for I had lost my favour My apprenticeship had lapsed with time the masters would not honour
So work was hard to come by without the right credentials Another source for income was becoming quite essential I might have to sign on a merchantman and return unto the sea and several in the Port of Leith do vie I read on Public notice they are looking for a crew To man a lighthouse off Arbroath, “Now there is something new!” I’ll chance my hand and go and take a view
I’m not a salty sailor and like to stand up steady And given what their looking for, I think that I am ready So following up instructions I find I’m in a queue Old salts and landlubbers alike who want to join the crew. I am on a short list, getting shorter by the day As one by one the candidates fall along the way Leaving two with letters of appointment to take away
Now that I’m selected to the “Pharos” I must go To meet with Captain Reid who will show us what to do He is Captain of the Pharos and Principal of the Light That is now called the Bell Rock and he will take us to the site It is all but finished and soon we’ll be on right Taking months to learn our trade as Keepers of the light. Then on our own to face the tempests of North Sea’s might
I have no fear inside it though battered she may be For sturdy is she crafted to face the heavy sea Even in depth of winter when met by howling gales The wind and waves may thunder like the sound of massive drums Crashing in to her skirts then swelling once again With cascades of water washing over her in our shelter from the storm We find more than comfortable in the dry and in the warm
Each night in turn we light the light and keep the mechanics turning A constant vigil we must take to ensue the light is burning By day the reflectors must be cleaned and wicks trimmed neat and tidy The stairwells swept and all the rooms till they are bright and shiny But if the fog that haunts these parts ventures too close to the Bell Then the machinery that turns the reflector will sound a bell as well. Thank the Lord its on the outside or we’d be deafened by the pall.
The bunk-beds come in tiers of three and arch to follow wall But better than a hammocks rest as it swings from fall to fall Our Principal sleeps in another room with beds enough to spare For engineering visitors the machinery for to care I share a room with Assistant number one He sleeps in the top bunk with the empty in between The watches that we keep at night means seldom is he seen
So I do not hear his snores while our watch keeps us apart But summer days grow longer while our watches get so short With less than eight of darkness his grunts keep me awake So in the comfort of the galley, I prepare our bread to bake skills in the art of cooking from naval service have been honed and I would rather cook our food than the reflectors go and clean Both Captain and our Number one prefer my fare to theirs
The Nation is still at war with France so protection we must take Just in case some mischief on this lighthouse they undertake They would hardly try and sink her with a broadside from their guns The noise would alert the neighbours and then they’d have to run Tis more likely that they’d board us and take away our light Leaving unsuspecting mariners once more to face their plight they would send boarding party in the darkness of the night
My cutlers skills were not in vain as cutlass blades prove true With a brace of loaded pistols and all are in plain view Ready to repel boarders that break the iron door After climbing thirty feet of ladder just to reach the platform floor We will fight them on the stairwell till their bodies block the path While one reloads the pistols the other will make the mass No Frenchmen ever came to put us to the test
We take a few days respite but taken when we can More often in the summer when the mail boat it can land But I have grown to love the place and there is nothing at all ashore So I give my leave to Captain Reid so his wife he can see more Leaving number one in charge in that I do not mind For he’s another gentleman and one that’s hard to find Even if his snores are loud I am the forgiving kind
As years go by and the service grows by lighthouse and by crews It has been decided that our manning should change too We should all have fair relief, both married and those single So we can live a normal life like our shore bound compatriots do In that event I must take my leave though I’ve no wish to mingle I’m a stranger in my hometown and have nowhere I can go My home is on the Bell Rock my only family is there too
I have saved a pretty penny and I’m told I must retire While I retain my health there is simply no desire But a letter comes that bids me well and thanks me for my time For devotion in their service I am thwarted in my prime My bags are packed and ready for the mail boat to arrive I’m a broken hearted Keeper without the will to stay alive I stride into oblivion … … …
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