“She’s aground! She’s aground!”
the call came down the road,
cried out by some young and latter day
Paul Revere.
“Come see! Come See!” he advertised.
“Where away?” I asked the lad
as reined he in his mare
at my chandlery door.
“Dragged her anchor in the storm,
blown through the Roads
and onto t’ shore by Mullin’s farm”
exclaimed he breathlessly.
“Who does salvage on her?”
“Captain Chester and his ‘Mermaid’, sir”
he replied - said no more,
but rode away to carry news,
and earn his footnote in local lore.
Grabbed my sketch pad,
locked my shop, went round the back
to saddle Spindrift in his stall,
and rode him quickest to the bay -
as did so many others on that day.
Beside the tidal pools, and atop
the running spine of rock along the shore
gathered most our hamlet,
and not a few longshoremen there,
to watch the business and be entertained.
Not every day a schooner comes to call
in just this way, avoiding wharf and workmen both.
“Be Hell ta’ pay” one man observed. “Look at Ol’ Man Sprague
standing out there in his skiff, yelling fit to be hung!”
“Pissed as ol’ Harry, is he,” laughed another watcher
on the lee,
“with his schooner caught upon that bar
without a lifting tide!”
I scrambled through crowd, over seaweed and rock
until I came but half a cable’s length away,
to sketch the progress, or lack thereof,
of Captain Chester and his squat ‘Mermaid’.
Belching smoke, which marked the wind as true,
rugged tug was she, Boston-built and strong,
though lacking any line or grace.
Tug she was - and tug she did,
all hausers taught to keep the schooner from wedging tighter
on that useless shore.
Patiently we stood and watched this drama
unfold so slowly, for indeed,
'time and tide await no man',
let alone a stranded schooner and her rabid owner.
But finally the lapping waves, inching higher,
her buoyancy restored.
A cheer went up from expectant watching crowd
and weary crew
as Mermaid’s whistle blew a deeper praise.
Her bow came round,
with the sound of sucking stern,
as out from muddy berth she rode,
freed now of her public gross embarrassment.
‘Mermaid’ turned and muscled her
down the bay to wharf -
and rest -
and morrow’s sounding of her ribs;
there to wait Sprague’s apoplectic screams
at Chester’s hefty bill,
and carpenters’ excise.
And we, sated crowd we were,
now weary and unfed –
though no labour had we done
past wishing, or waiting,
or the passing of good advice –
and some sketching -
chatted on, reviewing day’s events,
‘till, like the running of the tide,
we all turned and drifted
to our waiting berths.
Author notes
www.artunframed.com/andrew_wyeth_prints_2.htm
SCHOONER AGROUND by Andrew Wyeth, owned by Syracuse University, N.Y.. dated?
A contest entry
- A Tribute to Andrew Wyeth by ea.
900 points, ended January 22, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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"as reigned he in his mare " Reigned should be reined. One is like ruling the other is horses reins.
"Grabbed my schetch pad," Schetch should be sketch.
"and rode him quickest to the bay -" It isn't quickest to the bay but quickly to the bay.
These little mistakes took away from this poem/story. But other then that it was really good and i really enjoyed it. Thank you for sharing this with us.
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BH:
'rein' and 'sketch' spelling errors addressed, thank you.
'Quickest' stand as is. Quickest in line 22 refers to the fact that many others in the village were responding to the boy's announcement, and hurrying to the schooner, with the poem's protagonist being 'quickest' among that crowd. While they all hurried quickly, he was quickest of them.
The poem attempts to catch a "Down East" voice; and there is therefore no expectation that speakers in the poem are going to speak grammatically.
Viewing the painting is most helpful. www.artunframed.com/andrew_wyeth_prints_2.htm
Regards,
JG
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Wow, you have given us an unexpected treat of a story to go along with this stunning painting of "Schooner Aground." As someone who grew up on Lake Champlain and witnessed the recovery of some of these old vessels, and have seen them sail, I was really impressed by this offering - it gives me a real sense of the day. Thank you for this immensely creative tribute to Andrew Wyeth's work.
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amazing story without the artwork of Wyeth, but once I seen the picture and read the contest I was even more impressed. Very descriptive writing, this read was very enjoyable. Excellent.
Rory
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So, are you genius, artist, writer extraordinaire?
Are you poet, adventurer, one who can re-create
history with an imaginative flair?
All those and more, I assume.
I see and feel Wyeth with the sketchbook.
This is time travel, close and personal
of what might have been!
Superb!
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A Masterpiece of ...
imagery and good observations shared for all ... Your poem had me right there the whole time and I throughly enjoyed how you took the painting to a new level of word art! The contest required a link to the painting and I was real curious to see it but there is no link just the name of the painting. All in all you have something here to be proud of.
j
y
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waydownuponjoy
Like the tug "Mermaid" I have finally got the schooner off the rocks and anchored on a Wyeth site....Is the required link OK?
{My sons insist I am a technophobe]
JG
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