Pyrate poetry

 

These maps where donated along with a sea chest once belonging to the female pirate Fiona Consuela Blackwell.

On the back of a couple of the maps are scriblings that were once thought to be code signs leading to a hidden treasure. Several literary treasure hunters have tried to decode them, but in vain. In 1973, however, a female student of literature solved the code; it wasn’t code as such, but a sort of short hand. It is common knowledge that the pirate Fiona Blackwell could not read nor write well, but this seems to be her way of writing. As it turned out it was not directions to a hidden treasure, alas, but love poems… Not of great quality, but a rare insight to a pirate’s romantic mind.

 

Here they are decrypted:

 

“This is torture!

He stands there; mere two inches starboard

And I cannot reach out and touch him

My own principles stay my hand

Captain’s orders and common sense as well.

Ah, but pirate am I!

I take that which is forbidden to me

I steal kisses of passion

I trick my way to hidden embraces

I board his cabin and have him at my mercy!

I keep these stolen moments in my treasure chest

And nothing is more precious to me”

 

“I had thought myself beyond such foolishness

Had never thought that feelings for a mere man

Could surpass my love for the Sea

Now he is the wind that tugs at my hair

He is the spray of salt water on my skin

He is the wave that breaks on my bow

He is the calm days of smooth sailing

He is the storm that wreaks havoc in me

And the wind in my hair is his caress

The salt-water sprays are his kisses on my face

The storm is his embraces

Crushing me tightly to his chest

He is the Ocean from horizon to horizon

And beyond

And I drown in him willingly”

"I am a fish out of water.

With desperate eyes and gasping mouth

I cast myself about,

choking on air.

And all these people staring

are like cruel children who,

with grinning faces and hands on knees,

just wait for me to lie still and die.

Only you seem to care about my predicament

With gentle hands and great speed

you carry me towards the ocean

and uncerimonously toss me back

where I belong.

As cool water surround me once more

and dried up gills comes to life

I am suddenly grabbed by panic

at the sight of you

still on shore.

Maybe you belong to this place

where I cannot be?

Then without any further ado

you jump in beside me

transforming your body

into smoothness and shining scales

and happily I sigh;

You are merefolk

- just like me"