James Bartley

poem by: Josh Rogan
Written on Oct 25, 2016

A bit of a scene setter is needed here, and here it is: we've all heard of tales of mariners being eaten up by huge fish / whales / general non-specific sea monsters (apart from the fact that they are huge of course). These have persisted from Biblical times, right up to a more modern era, maybe not now, but certainly the Victorian era. Here's one such saga, based, maybe not on a real event, but a very real report of a supposed real event - one young chap, James Bartley, who supposedly got mistaken for a gargantuan specimen of plankton, duly got gobbled up - and yet - he lived to tell the tale. Just like the famed showman of the old west would bark through speaking tubes at the county fares - Believe it - or not! So, yer pays yer money (well, points on here, but what the hell) and you takes yer choice. I give you (pretend I've got a speaking tube, a red and black silky suit, top hat and twiddly 'tache while yer at it) James Bartley! (The title doesn't really have an exclamation mark, but it adds drama, don't you think?)

JAMES BARTLEY

Gather round all young lads,
hark at tale I have for thee.
Landlocked men of England,
are as foolish as can be.
Now do not doubt the Good Book,
tis not fables as they say;
the fate of poor old Jonah
it can be your fate today.

Sailors once they are back home,
soon fill up at the inn.
Brandy, ale, and barley wine,
and liberal mugs of gin.
Soon the tales do flow so well,
as freely as the drink.
With tales of gold and derring do,
it makes the young men think.

Gloucester man James Bartley,
worked twelve hours each day, each week.
He sighed and looked across the land,
so wintry grey and bleak.
One night old whaler, Taff McGill,
held court in Black’s Saloon,
With yarns of taming mighty whales
with courage and harpoon.

James Bartley hung on every word,
thus yearned for sea and tide;
soon indentured to a whaling ship,
at Captain Killam’s side.
Great Yarmouth soon so dim at stern,
as southern waters bound.
Skipper and men of the Star of the East,
set sail for the whaling grounds.

Bar room tales in snugly inns
all soon had less appeal,
as officers and men did freeze,
on deck and at the wheel.
The winter chill, the howling gales,
the scurvy and deadhand;
the winter of 1891 was worse on sea than land.

Weeks did pass, no sightings yet,
from Crow’s Nest then came shout;
‘Thar she blows! A Giant Whale!’,
the longboats soon set out.
James Bartley on his very first trip,
was on the hunting sortie;
With harpoon at the ready
for to tame the sperm whale’s fury.

The hunting crew were longside on,
their harpoons then were launched.
Then frantically they rowed away,
as stricken whale it haunched.
But such is peril of sound and surf,
when giant whales leap high;
the whale crashed down and dived below,
from longboats crew came cry.

‘Row fast, m’lads, he’ll have us yet,
even in death throes!
The wake and surf will pull us down,
to Davey Jones we’ll go!’
But the final sound of the dying whale,
did make one boat capsize.
James Bartley and his crewmates
were now thrashing for their lives.

But the dying whale had one last meal,
James Bartley swallowed whole.
His body slashed and bleeding,
by sharp teeth which took their toll.
Sucked deep into its belly,
James did think that he was done;
the fear and heat and rancid air,
James Bartley almost gone.
 
The hours did pass as James began
to slowly drift away.
But the whaling men of the Star of the East,
had fought and killed their prey.
The whale was hauled right up on deck,
James stirred which caused alarm.
Then shouts and yells and cutting tools,
meant James soon free from harm.

James Bartley after his ordeal,
was bleached as white as snow.
The juices in the belly
over James had freely flowed.
His life was saved as was his sight,
though delirium did grip,
But James lived on for eighteen years
on land but not on ship.

Now m’lads you have been warned,
good book is not just fable
Stay on land and work the hoe,
put food on good wife’s table.
Though James like Jonah did return,
fate dealt a helping hand;
not so for whaling widows
who are common in this land.

 

Tags: rhyme, scary, weird,

Add Comment


Christopher Russon commented:
Really well written poem.
Josh Rogan commented:
Thank you, Chris.

 

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