September 21st 2009 10:42 am
[ Leave A Comment | 1 person already has ]

Late that evening, as we lay about the clean and fresh smelling, newly scrubbed deck, the breeze was warm in our sails as we headed gently southwards. In spite of the troubles we had seen over that last hours, I felt oddly at peace. The pirate crew and my own fishing mates had enjoyed a wonderful cod-based feast of baked, fried and frittered delights and the cook was pleased with his efforts and with the praise he had received from the satisfied crew. “Almost homelike, ain’t it” said one of the fiercer looking pirates, gently picking his teeth with a codfish bone. “It be” said his partner, stretching and taking another pull from his mug of grog.

From aft, the mournful sound of a harmonica began to play the old whalers song “Shenandoah.” I remembered long ago times hearing my mother gently sing that to we pups as we rocked in our rowboat crib on a long ago Labrador beach. Without being fully aware that I was doing so, I began to sing to the wistful tune.

Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.
Oh, Shenandoah, I love your daughter,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.
Oh, Shenandoah, I'm bound to leave you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I'm bound to leave you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.

By the time I had reached the end of the last verse, several of the dogs on the Pirate crew were howling along in harmony. I saw more than one rugged paw swipe at an eye and some shrugs and snuffles. My fisherman crew was openly moved, and quite a few of the Pirates were congratulating me. “Lovely voice, Sweet Bessie” (for they had taken to calling me this) “sounded like me own sainted Grammer.”

But not Black Pete. He scowled and muttered and then said with a snarl “Many a singing Doxie in Port Royal! Yer nae special for all the airs you give yourself – “Sweet Bessie.”

It sounded like an insult coming from his snarling mouth. But I put my head up and said – “Singing Dachshunds or not, I do my work and then some. And that without complaining, unlike some black faced villains I COULD name.”

A gasp went up from Pirates and fishermen alike. Black Pete only smiled grimly and said “And work enough you’ll have lassie. I’ll see to that.”

(Tomorrow - Black Pete's Secret!)
Savannah!