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A Local Tale - Poem
By Todd Stephens Todd Stevens on 19 September 2008
In times gone by the pilots of Scilly did not just see vessels safely in and out of the islands as they do today; they were taken on board ship and navigated vessels to their intended port; wherever that port might be. Being based in the western approaches the pilots of Scilly were respected the world over; sadly, for whatever reason, they did not always return home safely.
Although this first poem, entitled A Local Tale, is not actually about the incident mentioned below, it was inspired by that tragedy and the piloting industry of Scilly as a whole. The following event happened in the Isles of Scilly on 27th January 1796 and although the disaster must have been absolutely devastating to the islanders at that time, the Times Newspaper simply wrote-“seven pilots perished while giving assistance to a vessel in distress on the Western Rocks of Scilly. Six widows and seventeen children have been left unprotected.”
This work is dedicated to anyone who may have lost a loved one to the sea.
A Local Tale
An original poem by
Todd Stevens
Lover left upon St Mary’s quay,
-the Pilot kissed full lips of red.
“I’ll return, fair maid, amidst Autumn leaves,
-keep a weather eye for me” he said.
On deck he waved her fond farewell,
-as his ship put out to sea,
“Oh Lord “she called “bring a safe return,
-for I’m betrothed to thee”
Long the Summer days that passed, – she walked the shores with empty hand,
-and with no strong voice to comfort her,
-‘twas more than she could stand.
With Falling leaves upon the ground
-each sun went down without a sign
-and the distant ships descried sailed on – she cursed for passing by.
Flowers picked amid winters chill, – her tears concealed by long brown hair,
-and each soft petal tiny droplets touched
-withered with sighs born of despair.
News came afore the crop was in,
-the Pilots ship had ne’er made land,
-But struck upon the seven stones
-and sank with every hand.
Each time Autumnal leaves did fall, – she wandered forth upon the Quay,
-and whispered o’er St Mary’s Roads,
-“Oh Pilot, love, how I miss thee”
Typical is the tale above,
-late of many an island clan
Such is the life of Scillonians past,
-the sea’s claimed many a local man.
Scilly’s beauty never wanes
-and labelled “paradise” by some
But weep ye island mother, wife and lover,
-when your men folk ne’er come home.
When stood upon Scilly’s broken shore
-curse not the fog, nor mist,
-but listen out for loved ones lost,
-their voices carry o’er the drift.
Contact
Author: Todd Stephens
Todd Stevens
Email: info@travel-dive.com
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