It is difficult not to be intimate, forty-seven
Men and one pot at the front of the ship, the
Head, and only two sides on a ship and the long,
Long hurling months of the whole of us starting out
Each with our expectations, our duties,
Each with our specialties, but in the end
All forced into each others’ jobs, whatever
It takes to make progress, to go one more nautical
Mile. The sea so flat that the rough of it is welcomed and
So rough that the flat of it is welcomed and no one
Knowing the midpoint, the exact tottering of change, except
Possibly the Captain, who, as the best of us,
Still looked like a savage and we would pray every
Morning that we would not be savages nor would
He and that we brave and collected souls would not
Perish on the face of the deep, nor sink beneath it, nor
By Leviathan be devoured, nor that our provisions
Would run out and that we then might think of one another
As prey, though no man would forsake his Christian
Heritage and take into his mouth another man’s
Flesh. We thought of the evils of our spirit and
How only the grace of God could save us from
Ourselves. And at times our own base natures
Were with us, and surely the demons of the air,
All those long months. All those salt
Filled days, those nights sleeping in another 
Man’s sweat. And then Land: a great wash
Of clear beach, the sand as white
As the throat of our Sovereign, the sand
Like fortunes of diamond ground for no good
Reason, the sand between our toes so unlike
The hardwood of the deck and the keep and the
Heat of it unsealing our blood that we had not
Known was sealed. The bounty of the trees and 
Even the smallest of crabs and open fire and
The natives were no threat to us, having come
To see the claiming of their land for better purposes,
Our small boat itself the better of all their navies 
And our ocean-tested galleon something they had
Seen only in clouds and shadows and rituals to untrue,
Pagan gods that harrumphed and departed. So of their royal
Family we took the child of fourteen or so years seeming
Most agreeable from the land to the small boat to the awe of the
Ship as our gentle hostage, her finery but simple shells and
The crustacean arm of something we had not yet seen, no doubt
Native only to this land and soon to be the glory
Of our explorations at least until the next glory.
We prayed for the bounty of small things and
When each man had had his fill of her over the side
She went limp and naked and serviced and worn out,
But we kept the shells and the crustacean arm and at first
Put them on the wheel but soon found 
There are more where she and her handsome 
Uncomplicated baubles came from and 
Praise God it was a long voyage and ever 
Lasting is His mercy. He has provided us
Heathens to comfort us and sustain us and
Whose bounty is ours for the appropriation,
Having with us God and the Sovereign and soon
These natives will appreciate what it is
To be civilized by gentlemen in spite 
Of how greatly worn we are from the crossing. 

Back to Via Negativa  ||  Next: