Chat on the Foredeck

Ahhhhh, so ye wants ta know more aboot me eh?  What would ye be wantin’ t’ know? I have’na’ a thing ta hide.  Let me fill m’ pipe an’ I’ll tell what ye’re wantin’ ta knoo.

Why am I not wed with a house fulla babbees?  An’ what made ye wonder aboot that?  Me?  A fine prize o’ a woman?  Ach, what a laugh ye’re givin’ me!!

I’ve been wed lads, for more’n a few moons, ’twas years and years we tried ta be good ta one another.  Twas sad, truly; we did love, as much as we could, but we were’na’ good for one another.

Aye, just because ye love someone, does’na’ mean ye can own ‘em, like.  I learned that th’ hard way; by lovin’ long after I knew we’d no’ be richt for th’ other.  All that done was make us both miserable, and sully part o’ this life.  The most lovin’ thing I done fer that mon was tae walk away fra’ him, and let ‘im build a new life.

What was wrong wi’ the auld life?  It did’na’ fit ‘im any more, like a snake what has outgrown their skin an’ must shed it ta be comfortable wi’ theirself.

I was’na’ happy either.  Th’ new lives we been makin’ fer ourselves fit us to a treat.  I am happier on the seas than any place I been.

What aboot th’ mon I wed?  Well, a form o’ th’ Irish Disease took ‘im, but his his Spirit were what the disease took. The Spirit I had loved for nigh onto 20 year were gone, and the new Spirit in ‘im were not what I wished tae be wi’.

I’ll no regret lovin’ him, I canna regret lovin’, ever.  Lovin’ is what brings us closer ta what th’ Gods want us ta be.  Ever’ time we love, our hearts grow some, tae make room fer the love, an’ that room is fer th’ Gods to fill as they will.

Hae I ever loved another man?  Accourse I have, once ye know how tae love, ye must love.  It is summat ye c’n only ken once ye’ know how tae love.

I love th’ men I love deeply, and love ‘em wisely enow tae not expect them ta’ be dancin’ attendance on me.  I love ‘em best by lettin’ ‘em live the life they find happiness in.

Nay, I am’na’ jokin’.  I canna own a mon any more than I can own th’ wind or th’ sun.

Where ha’ I been?  Why, accourse I been t’ Ireland, an’ France, all over th’ seas, I’ve lived in th’ Colonies… pardon me, th’ United States.

I been to their mountains, lakes, and deserts.  I’ve lived in great cities, and in the farmlands.  An’ I tell ye true, ever’ place has summat special that is’na’ anywhere else in the wide world.

Nay lads, their deserts are’na’ like th’ Gobi an’ Sahara.  There’re plants, an’ animals a-plenty.  It do rain in th’ desert, just not like ye’ see in places with woods an’ suchlike.

They ha’ these cactuses all over th’ place, these things what look like a tree trunk with’na’ a leaf or bloom in sight.  Some o’ them are tall as a tree, with a hide what feels like leather and spines sharp as a Devilfish all over ‘em.

But, if’n’ ye’re out in th’ desert and ye have’no’ water, ye can cut a piece o’ one a’ them an’ suck the juice outta it t’ keep frae dyin’.

I’ve seen things in th’ desert what would scare a man tae an early grave.  There’re Indians what can ride a horse to a treat, they need nae saddle nor bridle.  I hae seen ‘em chargin’ all painted and wild like, ’tis enough to frighten a devil into repentin’.

An’ these same Indians are sae happy, an’ lovin’ and faithful to their Great Spirit I canna help but respect an’ like them.

I’ve seen snakes what warn ye afore they give ye th’ killin’ bite. I hae seen sheep wi’ nae more coat than a bloomin’ ‘orse.  They,  all o’ em, hae horns, but the rams’ are massive.

In their season the rams will butt heads like all rams, but they are doin’ this on th’ mountain-tops, noo on solid ground.

I’ve seen horses, gone back t’ bein wild, runnin’ under a full moon, their hooves poundin’ on the hard desert floor.  Their manes ‘n’ tails were flyin’ behind ‘em like spindrift, or high clouds.

I seen a crayture like a lion, but black as death wi’ eyes o’ clear green.  He was huntin’ in th’ mountains, and did’na’ see me, else I would’na’ be tellin’ you aboot it.

There is a bear, what dwarfs all other bears, and his coat shines like silver, the folk  call ‘im a Grizzly Bear.  They tol’ me that he is th’ meanest, smartest, and bravest kind o’ bear ye’ll ever see.

I took their word for it.  I was’na’ goin’ t’ challenge a bear that stood taller than a mon on a tall horse.

Aye lads, th’ more ye see o’ this world o’ ourn, the more ye know that we are’na’ just an accident like some scientist would want ta make us believe.

What is the most amazin’ thing I ever seen?  ‘Twas a babbee bein’ born, accourse!!  Tae be witness ta that humbles a Spirit, and gives ye a glory at th’ same time.  Ta hear their first breath, and see ‘em lookin’ for their Mam, it surely must be like bein’ in Heaven, an seein’ God, or th’ Gods, whichever ye prefer.

Where do I hang me oilskin betwixt journeys?  There is an Inn in Lemuria what suits me fine, th’ Riversleigh Inn ’tis; pleasant, wi’ good conversation an’ music.  Th’ people what stay there are fine folk; an Enchanteur,  poets, artists, sculptors, dancers, yer ain Captain ha’ been known tae visit, a bard now an’ agin, an’ th’ Wee Folks are there nowadays.  At th’ Riversleigh Inn, my room there is allus waitin’ for me wi’ fresh sheets, soft pillas, an’ a kitchen that has th’ room fer me t’ cook what’e’er I wish.

Oh, ye want ter hear aboot me island?  An’ ye really think I’m goin’ta tell ye easy as that?  Nay, lads, some things are best kept a secret, an’ me island is one o’ ‘em.

All I’ll tell ye is that I have s’many books there I had tae build ‘em their ain house!  Aye, I love readin’ that much.

Aye, whilst yer out chasin coold beers an’ loose women, I’m seekin’  books I have’nae read yet.  I knoo many o’ ye think readin’ and learnin’ are fer bluestockin’s an’ perfessers.  Ye’re quite wrong lads.

When ye’re too auld tae sail what will ye be doin’?  Sittin’ in a bar somewhere, a-swappin’ drinks fer tales o’ the auld days?

Me, what else?  I’ll be teachin’ the young folk what I think is truly important, the care an’ feedin’ o’ their Spirits.  What else would I be doin’?

Noo, are ye happy wi’ that lads?  M’ pipe has’na’ a thing in it, our grog is drunk up, and ’tis time fer me ta make us an evenin’ meal.

Ohhhh, aye. ’twill be a goodly feast. We’re roastin a pig on th’ beach, an’ I’ve stuffed in as many greens as what I knew we could eat.  Then I wrapped the whole in a coat o’ clay afore buryin’ it w’ th’ coals we been makin’.

Aye, there’ll be plenty o’ tatties, and turnips, carrots, and and some fresh bread to set our bellies ta’ rights.

Aye, I knoo our teeth ha’ been gettin’ loose.  ‘Tis ta be expected when we have’na’ fresh fruit or greens.  Why do ye think I stuffed yon pigling wi’ greens?

An’, I been out pickin’ strawberries ta’ eat wi’ sugar, as well as makin some berry preserve ta use later.

by Gwen Myers