Three Ships...

The search for a north-east route to Cathay - 1553

Sebastian Cabot returned from Spain,

To delight in England's shores,

He needed a route to old Cathay

To trade his wool for furs,

The Straits were held by the Spanish Dons

The Cape by the Portuguese,

Between them, strangling English trade,

He championed English needs.

 

So he formed the Merchant Adventurers,

To seek out a north-east route,

Each man hand-picked for his diligence

And conformity, to suit;

They had to be 'knit in unitie,

Obedience in everie degree',

So that no dissent would afflict them when

At mercy of tides and sea.

 

He chose three sturdy sailing ships

To seek the fabled course,

That would take them over the top of the world

Where man hadn't been before,

The Bona Confidentia

Was a ship of ninety tons,

Carrying victuals to serve the crews

For a voyage of fifteen months.

 

The Edward Bonaventura carried

The pilot of the fleet,

The seadog, Richard Chancellor,

A seaman, most complete.

But then, the Bona Speranza carried

The leader of the three,

A soldier with no ocean skills,

Sir Hugh - Hugh Willoughby.

 

They sailed at last by Greenwich there,

By Good King Hen-ery,

He bid them well, and weather fair

As they headed toward the sea,

But the winds blew up, and the seas were rough

And they sheltered for forty days,

Along the English coastline that

Was hidden in mist and haze.

 

They sailed past Scandinavia

Toward the Lapland coast,

So close that they could hail each other

To save one being lost,

But by the Lofotan Islands there

The wind it howled, forlorn,

And Willoughby failed to trim his sails,

So ran before the storm.

 

The other two fell far behind

Lost to each other's sight,

The seas hurled furious waves to

Batter the ships all through the night,

But when the storm had spent its force

And the sun rose, grey at the dawn,

Willoughby found the victuals ship

But Chancellor had gone.

 

The two remaining ships stayed close,

They crossed the Barents Sea,

They reached Novaya Zemlya then

Turned back, in misery,

The ice was just beginning to form

On yard and deck, and sail,

They headed back to find Murmansk

But ice lay on the rail.

 

By the cold Arzina River mouth

The ships were locked in the ice,

With never a human soul to see

In a million miles of white,

The seamen hung on the frosted rail

And searched while their eyes could see,

Then went below as the cold and snow

Closed in on their purgatory.

 

Willoughby sat at his cabin desk

And wrote in his diary,

'The land lay not as the globe was made,

I should never have put to sea.

The world up here is like frozen glass

And it streams from the yards and sails,

'Til the ship turns white, and disappears,

Into the landscape pales.

 

For months they fed on the victuals there,

Burnt sea-coal to warm their bones,

The sailors fell in a stupor, lay

In their bunks, or thought of home,

But the ice, it cracked, and the ship, it creaked

As the pressure built up outside,

And many a man was crazed, and ran

In search of the countryside.

 

And so they died there, one by one,

From fear, from cold, alas;

While Willoughby sat at his desk so still,

His diary frozen like glass,

It lay on the table, its final remark

Was to puzzle men, three years on,

With the ships of frozen statues found

Where they'd dropped and died, to a man.

 

The entry stood out stark and bare

With his frozen pen at his side,

As if he'd been trying to tell the world

How the last of his seamen died,

'There were strange beastes, to us unknowen,

And wonderful to be seen,

Prowled round the ship in the midnite gloome,

Dear God - I have locked me in!'

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Norma J. Jessee]

Another great story from the Master. This one gives me chills. Not only because of the freezing weather but because of the last entry in the ship log or diary. You leave the reader in susspense to figure out what lurked there about. And with my wild immagination there is no end to the possibilites. I do love how you have left it to the reader to supply his own monster.........

Another great read David.

[papaed]

I've found that Cabot's history is conflicted between several author's accounts. I remember that Cabot's Galleon was called the "Searchthrift" and he made the trip to Russia in his last years... middle 1500's. You've sparked my interest, I'll have to research this some now and refresh my memory. Thanks so much for sharing.

papaed

[holly]

You choose interesting topics for your poems, and this one is especially alluring. I'm going to to have to find more information on this voyage, which will be great fun. The rhyme scheme is simple but supports the tale well. The meter kind of bounces around but not so that it's jarring. All in all a good story in verse.

[Poeticpiers]

Another educational treat from your pen David This is poets poetry ivor

[Wildfleour]

It is a David "Odyssey". I too am puzzled by the last comment made by Willoughby.

A world of frozen glass - splendid imagery.