The ConquistadorA Poem by David Lewis PagetWhen once we dived on the San Miguel Off the coast of old Peru, We little knew that under the swell Was an Aztec treasure, too. I scuba’d down, and the vessel lay Tipped onto its starboard side, And mostly covered in silt that day That buried its Spanish pride. The wreck had never been seen before So my heart began to pound, We’d found the ship we’d been looking for Submerged, and under a mound, While whisking some of the silt away My eyes had caught a gleam, The helmet of a Conquistador Lay trapped, and under a beam. But as the silt was dispersed I saw That the helmet still was full, For glaring out from beneath its brim Was a fearsome human skull, The skeleton was intact, and lay Still trapped, where once he fell, His legs were caught in a cannon bay Of the fated San Miguel. I had no time for the niceties That I should have shown to him, But seized the helmet from off his head And I left him, looking grim, I took it up to the surface as The first of our spoils that day, And told the crew that I claimed it, It was mine, so come what may! The treasure trove was incredible Of jewels and gold moidores, I didn’t think that my helmet would Be missed, once taken ashore, But in my mind was a picture that I’d seen on the ocean bed, Of that struggling, drowned Conquistador And that helmet on his head. I sat that helmet in pride of place As a conversation piece, Tricked it up with a piece of lace Thanks to a helpful niece, But then the sounds had begun at night The clashing of steel on steel, And shadows, moving in passageways From something that wasn’t real. One night, the door with a mighty crash Fell into the passageway, I must have been feeling more than rash To venture toward the fray, For standing there in the open door Was a skeleton, with a sword, Who slipped the helmet onto its head Not saying a single word. I watched it wade back into the sea This pile of ancient bones, And think I know where it’s sure to be Back where it lay, alone, It seeks its brother Conquistadors Where each had perished as well, Guarding the store of gold moidores In the hold of the San Miguel. David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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