The Black Sail (Bardic)

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By: Azurin Posted on: May 14, 2009



There's a scourge upon the seas these days,

Like a carrion bird on the breeze she preys,

'Tis the terrible Black Sail,

A phantom cloaked upon the waves,

When across their paths its shadow strays

Good sailing men turn pale,


'Twas a cold morn in the Notic vast,

And high I perched atop my mast,

To watch for lonely rock and shrine,

We were making way both proud and fast,

While along the horizon these eyes passed,

And spied a vessel most malign,


She was lying silently in wait,

With the sea shrine as her tempting bait,

When I heard the dreaded captain yell,

"Ahoy" he said, voice loud and great,

Drawing shudders from deckhand and shipmate,

Thus I replied, "Farewell!"


"Turn about!" I shouted o'er the rail,

To every sailor on the Gale,

As the pirates drifted into sight,

The timbers gave a tortured wail,

"Full speed and we may yet prevail,"

"Else we stand our ground and fight!"


"But Cap'n, Zaphar's to the east!"

My first mate pleaded, none too pleased,

"With full sails we could make it there afore 'im!"

"Nay," I said, "The ship's a beast,"

"We'd stand no chance; not in the least,"

"We'll lose the hulking strider to that port wind,"


So we angled in, took up the slack,

Beating to windward with a larboard tack,

But the distance between us only closed,

A figurehead she did not lack,

And soon the 'Sail' was at our back,

Making headway unopposed,


Then out of sight the pirates fell,

Their form cloaked by a sly seaspell,

Shrouded all but for a bit of wake,

I heard the corsair, Zulah, well,

Laughing like a fiend from hell,

Our ship his zealous crew did o'ertake,


"Even in the wind we cannot flee!"

My frightened first mate called to me,

Quite dismayed I knew him right,

And praying to the spirits of the sea,

Fervently, that they might hear my plea,

I brought the Gale hard starboard with all my might


With the strong west wind our sails were filled,

Propelled by the gusts and her crew so skilled,

The Erymanthian Gale took flight,

Relieved that my prayers had been fulfilled,

And in no mood to get us killed,

I firmly gripped the wheel with knuckles white,


Our noble vessel was under way,

Its prow awash in surging spray,

When our trailing jetsam struck a hidden oar,

The prowling 'Sail' it did betray,

She'd suffered but a slight delay,

And circled round to harry us some more,


So frantically I did evade,

My shipmates urgently I bade,

"Gird thy steel! Take up thy posts!"

By holy rites and holy blade,

I vowed I'd see the course was stayed,

If only to wash up dead upon the coasts,


Changing course to meet the threat,

My skin broke out in beads of sweat,

And I wondered if the strain would prove too much,

Determined to make landfall yet,

The 'Gale' and 'Sail' danced minuet,

And I swear to you our hulls did nearly touch,


It was through the grace of Neraeos alone,

That we disengaged their vessel from our own,

Slipping from Zulah's grasp like a wily fox,

And by a miracle our ship was blown,

Toward Zaphar Isles whose white sands shone,

Like a beacon guiding us to sheltered docks,


No longer racing neck and neck,

And nearing the end of this deadly trek,

We sought refuge in this island sanctuary,

When out of the sky a tiny fleck,

Grew large-- "Incoming boarding deck!"

"To harbour on the double! Do not tarry!"


Alas, too late, for as we moored,

The jaunty pirate stepped aboard,

His calm, collected visage never failing,

With a roguish swagger, self-assured,

He tapped his cane and coolly toured,

Then turned his head and said to me, "Nice sailing,"


I did my best not to react,

But when he said "Let's talk," I cracked,

And claimed protection of the Zaphar harbour,

The butcher's price he did exact,

I watched in horror as he attacked,

Slaying my valiant shipmates with cruelest ardour,


I hurled myself with furious cry,

Too choked with anger to reply,

"You'll get nothing out of me alive!"

So he jabbed me in the chest and thigh,

Then pulled my bleeding body nigh,

And told me, "Next time, lad, just pay the tithe,"


There's a scourge upon the seas these days,

Like a carrion bird on the breeze she preys,

'Tis the terrible Black Sail,

A phantom cloaked upon the waves,

When across their paths its shadow strays

Good sailing men turn pale.