A Man of Honor

Tall and strong, he stood larger than life,
his steely look matched the graying skies.
Blue coat, brass buttons, he looked like a God
to the youthful ignorance of my eyes.

Captain James G. Stark of the “Gloriana.”
Determined, demanding, though always fair,
as the years passed by his reputation grew
as a Captain, though he seemed unaware.

There’s always scuttlebutt among any crew
and there was much well humored speculation
about the meaning of the “G.” in his name.
No one asked, so it remained just conversation.

Indentured at a young age, first as his cabin boy,
“Billy” he would call and I’d do what was asked of me.
In the course of time, I came to be called Bill
as I listened and I learned the ways of the sea.

Always he encouraged, and as my knowledge grew,
I went from ordinary seaman to able bodied hand.
Often he would call me to his side at the helm
and we’d talk of all the things he’d planned.

Sometimes I’d gather courage and ask him about life.
He always answered with a smile in his voice.
“The answer’s in the secret, boy” was his reply.
“Find the secret, son” he’d say as if I had a choice.

We saw great adventures, new lands, and renegades
as we travelled across oceans, calm or tossed with storm.
He was always there, standing strong and tall at the helm,
a half smile on his face and I knew we were safe from harm.

For fourteen years and seven months I stood before the mast.
From a youth I grew until I had reached my prime.
Faithfully I served him, never faltering…
Looking back it now seems like it was a lifetime.

In late August we were sailing ‘round the Cape of Storms,
running before the wind, when the skies grew dark.
Seemingly from nowhere, the winds began to howl
and lightening stroked the sky as waves tossed our fragile bark.

Minutes turned to hours as we fought long and valiantly
but fortune was a fickle friend as we heard the mainsail snap.
Foundering, the mountain waves no longer could be tamed;
the hull was breeched and soon the water poured thru every gap.

A cry of “Land” was heard.  An island could be seen.
Distantly, it promised salvation from our fate.
But for the Gloriana, the damage had been done.
The promised sanctuary was too little and too late.

“Bill” boomed a voice above the storm and, without hesitation,
I found myself standing awaiting the Captain’s order.
“Launch the longboats, abandon ship – this battle’s lost”
he said.  “We’ll not repel this final siege of this watery boarder.”

Gathering the crew, I did as told amidst the lady’s dying song.
The cracking sounds sang with the wind, leaving us bereft.
By his command, the boats were launched and set out one by one,
through discipline and force of will until only one was left.

Rushing back I reported that we were ready to depart
but I knew this was his final sailing, somehow.
He said “The lady and I have been through too much
for me to desert her in her final hour now.”

Grasping my hand, his gaze filled me with pride,
saying “The secret, William, is to find your passion.
Follow it like a compass.  It will never steer you wrong.”
Then he smiled one last time with a look of compassion.

A laugh escaped his lips as he said “Gustavo is the name,
my mother was Spanish” then he shoved me toward the rail.
As I scrambled over the lilting decks and left her one last time
I knew that this, his final order, was one I couldn’t fail.

As we steered away, I saw Captain James Gustavo Stark
salute me before the waves hid the end from my sight.
The salt stung my eyes as I guided us toward the land
through the storm and the darkening night.

Suddenly I found my confidence as I stood grinning. 
In his final command, “William” was the name that he’d said.
I felt my compass come alive and with a steady hand,
I steered toward a new life, in honor of the dead.