Crab Island Light Poem by David Lewis Paget

The sea beats in at the headland spur
Then rounds Crab Island Reef,
The rip is a grey and swirling dearth
That will drag you underneath,
Then it hums and moans as it rounds the reef
And it howls in a winter storm,
'Til it beats up hard on the inland beach
Where the Light still stands, forlorn.

I kept that Light in my younger days
With my wife, sweet Mary Anne,
She swept and cleaned while I kept the glass
Of those mirrors spic and span,
I cleaned and polished them well by day
And tended the Light by night,
To warn seafarers of reef and rocks
With the beam of the Island Light.

But evenings, then, we'd lock the doors
And we'd climb up, out of reach
For the crabs would swarm by their thousands then
From the reef, on the inland beach,
They covered the beach like a devil's plague
And scavenged for carrion flesh,
So we stayed inside to the skittering sound
Of the crabs, attacking the mesh.

My Mary Anne had a brother then
Who took to the sea in ships,
He'd often pass by the Light, and then
Would visit us, bearing gifts.
He brought joss sticks of sandalwood,
Of Jasmine, Amber and Musk,
His gifts of pearls and ointments, brought
In a longboat, nearing dusk.

He'd stay the night, and tell us then
Of treasures he'd seen on board,
Of perfumes, gold medallions,
Of silver, an endless hoard.
We joked about smugglers long ago
Who'd lured ships onto the rocks,
Then killed the crews as they crawled ashore
And carried the cargoes off.

Young Martin, he was a friendly lad,
And he loved his sister well,
While she adored, and she spoiled him too
For the tales that he had to tell,
But I - I sat by the sweeping Light
And I thought of the wealth of men,
While I slaved long for a pittance there
To care for my Mary Anne.

His ship was known as the 'Frankfort Rose',
An old three masted Barque,
One of the last of the sailing ships,
As old as the 'Cutty Sark'.
I knew her movements from year to month,
From week to day to hour,
And when she passed by the Island Light
I'd have her in my power.

Winter came, and the gales they blew,
And the sea raged round my door,
The 'Frankfort Rose' was heading back,
With a fortune from Singapore,
I left my wife to her knitting then
And I climbed back up to the Light,
But I struck the flame and the dark came down
Black pitch in the dead of night.

Then dimly out through the blackness there
And over beyond the rocks,
I saw the lights of the 'Frankfort Rose'
As she dipped and turned, quite lost.
I heard the crunch of her timbers then
And screams from her frantic crew,
As the ship went down by the battered stern
And the sails were rent in two.

The sound of splintering timbers echoed
Over the driving gale,
My Mary Anne came running up,
'My God - but the Light has failed! '
I tried to soothe and to calm her down
But she screamed in pain and rage:
'My brother's out in that storm tonight,
He's gone to a watery grave! '

She ran back down and I sparked the Light,
Too late, but now I knew,
That I'd be blamed for the wreck that night…
I'd say: 'The Light just blew! '
I raced below on the spiral stair
But Mary Anne had gone,
She'd taken the longboat, pushed it out
To battle the raging storm.

The blood just drained from my face, I leapt
Across to the open door,
The storm had whipped up the swell, white caps,
The boat was far from the shore,
I watched her battling monster waves,
And screaming Martin's name,
But then the bodies were swept ashore…
And I was the one to blame!

I crept inside and I locked the door,
Then cowered in the dark,
All thoughts of cargo and wealth were gone,
I wished I could take it back;
But nothing could save the souls out there,
They'd all be drowned, to a man,
I should have searched for my only love,
But I thought I'd seen her drown.

The early light brought me out once more
To the ravaged, lonely beach,
The cargo lay all about, it seemed,
But out of my mental reach;
The bodies lay, and I saw her dress
As it moved - I thought it a dream…
Then the crabs poured out, and I seemed to hear
My voice, as it rose to scream.

3 June 2008