The Black FreighterA Poem by David Lewis PagetI’d met Helga at the Seaman’s Rest Where I said that I’d be her mate, Sailing her ancient Freighter for her Down to the River Plate. But then, I’d never set eyes on it I was more concerned with her lips, This Helga, who had bought the wreck From the old graveyard of ships.
Then down at the dock, I saw it then Coal fired, and full of rust, And wondered if it could make it there But she turned, and said, ‘It must!’ She’d spent the coin from a bad divorce From the head of a shipping line, ‘I helped him to build that business up, In truth, it ought to be mine!’
It was then that I saw the hatred there Set deep in her flashing eyes, ‘My husband said he was going broke, It was just a pack of lies. He’s bought another great tanker since That he calls Madrid Maru, And sails it under a foreign flag So there’s nothing that I can do.’
We threw some paint on the freighter then And piled the coal in a stack, Painted the name as Helga Jane But the only paint was black. She hired some Lascars, stoking coal, An engineer for the crew, And loaded the hold with tractor tyres And aircraft engines, too.
We left the port with a head of steam And nosed our way from the dock, The pistons rumbled beneath the deck In their first reprieve, in shock. ‘It’s been a while, it will settle down,’ Said the engineer, old Sam, So slowly, out to the open sea We sailed from Amsterdam.
The stars were bright on that first full night With Helga stood at the wheel, Heading into the darkness there As if she could see and feel. The Freighter seemed to respond to her At the slightest touch of her hand, And I took over the wheel once we Were out of sight of the land.
I’d thought she might have been lonely Once we had been some days at sea, And hoped she’d open her cabin door But her door stayed closed to me. She seemed to brood, in an evil mood When she joined me at the wheel, ‘I gave him years of my life,’ she said, ‘Then all that he does is steal!’
And even the freighter seemed to feel The sense of her own despair, It rose and fell with the ocean swell And groaned as if steel could care. In black of night, with a single light There were sounds deep in its bowels, The hull would shake as I lay awake, And moan, like a demon’s howls.
A storm blew up on the seventh day And it tossed our craft about, We turned it into the crashing waves As we tried to ride it out, But the rudder snapped from the rudder post So we couldn’t turn or steer, And all this little black freighter gave The crew was a sense of fear.
Then out of the mist of the driving rain Came a hull she thought she knew, And Helga screamed, and the freighter seemed To know it, Madrid Maru, The pistons started to race below And the bow rose out of the swell, Racing towards the starboard now Like an arrow released from hell.
Though Helga clung to the useless wheel To try to steer it away, All the hatred she’d ever felt Reposed in the ship that day. We threw the lifeboat over the side And the engineer jumped free, I called to Helga, and she replied, ‘It’s fate! It’s coming for me!’
One of the Lascars made the boat, The others were down below, We watched as the Freighter raced ahead While the tanker was long, and slow. It punched a hole in the tanker’s side And was rushed by the water in, With Helga fighting the useless wheel, I never saw her again.
It took an hour for the ships to sink Still lodged together with force, Even while drowning in the depths They couldn’t get a divorce. I’ll never forget that Freighter though, It took on a woman’s pain, They lie as one, now their day is done Since we christened her Helga Jane.
David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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