Part 5

‘Alright! Alright! Do not inflame,’

The captain seemed to pale,

‘I’ll tell you all my home and name,

And, if you want, my tale.

 

As you have guessed from what I wear,

A captain sits with you.

Behold the shining sword I bear,

My coat of ocean blue.

 

I’m Captain Seamus Silereen

Of the HMS Irene-

A shining ship so fair, serene,

She’s such that none have seen.

 

In slavery did I begin,

I worked a Dutchman’s field.

Whips cracked each day and cut our skin,

But nothing ever healed.

 

A mere young lad I felt those pains-"

The same the others felt.

That whip left biting bloody stains

With every given welt.

 

My mother always looked to me,

The others slaves as well.

Together were we family

Within the Dutchman’s hell.

 

But then one late-September night

When winds were growing cold,

My mother gave me such a fright

Throughout the tale she told.

 

Now ev’ry night she told a tale,

But none were filled with fright

 To ultimately leave me pale,

Except the one that night.

 

“It’s time you know the truth,” she said,

“Of how we came to be

Upon these wicked lands, so red

With blood of slavery.

 

In England lies our true descent,

Your father sailed the seas

A captain, always most content

To follow ev’ry breeze.

 

Whilst I, a simple maiden fair,

Had given birth to you.

And, thrilled, your father then and there

Ensured all England knew.

 

Two years elapsed, and then one green

And peaceful Summer’s day,

Embarked we on the ship Irene,

And sailed beyond the quay.

 

One year, we sailed the ocean blue,

One year, we showed you all

The wonders that come into view

From dawn to evenfall.

 

Returning home, we crossed a ship

That waved the Dutchland’s flag.

Its captain cracked a grisly whip

Whene’er his crew would lag.

 

The fair Irene had lost the fight,

And heard the Dutchmen cheer.

They chained our wrists with great delight,

And led us all back here.

 

Soon after that your father fled

With men that were his best

To seek what help may lie ahead,

Then come for all the rest.

 

For years we worked, for years we bled,

But he did not return.

To merely think he may be dead

E’er brings me great concern.

 

It’s you who must go on, my son,

You must go on for me.

Say not a word, you are the one

Who next must make to flee.”

 

And then she placed around my neck

These charms I wear today.

“Wear these,” she said, “and while you trek

No harm would come your way.

 

Now mark, once out, you must recall

The things that I have told.

Be pure and true, and, most of all,

Be brave, my son, be bold.”

 

And so when morning lit the land

With shimmers from the sun,

My mother gave her last command-"

She ordered me to run.

 

I had no choice, we had a plan-"

She wanted me to flee.

And so like raging gales I ran,

Her echoes spurring me.

 

The Dutchman, though, his men as well,

Were quick to turn and see

My flight across the field of Hell

To break from slavery.

 

“Schiet neer het kind!” the Dutchman cried,

And all the guns were aimed.

That was the day my mother died

So I could not be claimed.

 

I heard the bullets kill their prey,

Which oddly wasn’t me.

For ev’ry slave had died that day

So I could now be free.

 

Once at the harbour, like a ghost

I stole a boat, and sailed

Towards fair England’s glinting coast-"

The land from which I hailed.

 

When I had reached my nation’s quay,

At last at freedom’s door,

I learned my father passed away

Eleven years before.

 

The man from whom I heard the tale

Was first to welcome me-

He once had helped my father sail

His ship from sea to sea.

 

He said they saved the fair Irene,

And swiftly made their way

To England with their hearts so keen

To make the Dutchman pay.

 

One year, their voices pierced the sky

To make their message clear;

One year, they pled their voices dry,

But no one stopped to hear.

 

My father then grew very ill,

And soon his last breath drew.

And then I learned about his will,

Which left me ship and crew.

 

Not one could sail the fair Irene

Until that fateful day

His only son would turn nineteen,

And still be found away.

 

Back then I was of age sixteen,

And never felt so free.

I claimed the HMS Irene,

And sailed the deep blue sea.

 

For years we sailed from sea to sea

As men so willed and strong,

Despite the fact they branded me

“A man who saw things wrong.”

 

But all those things I saw were clear,

And that they came to see

When all of us were numb with fear

Upon the raging sea.

 

Some years ago there came a sight

As strange as strange could be.

And that which gave me such a fright

Was the fury of the sea.’

-EDP