Lines snap in the chill wind
Boards creak under the relentless
Attention of the black water deep.
Salt stings the fresh cuts of labour
And the stench of 6 months sweat
Fouls the air and turns the stomach.
Comes the cry "All hands...",
Cut off by the angry retort of the black water deep.
It is not repeated
all men aboard know what needs be done.
A momentary lull,
A simple sailors prayer echos across the deck
and then the battle is met.
2 hours? 2 days? 2 weeks?
Time spent fighting the cruel mistress is immeasurable
You can only mark it by the tally of lost souls
10 men sacrificed to pay the cost of freedom on the black water deep.
