Where the Trade Winds Blow

A Child’s Voyage I hold the old chart in hand, a page to the past, Worn at the edges and smudged with a hundred courses laid, Its creases record voyages across the great Atlantic,... And the magic of a child under sail. My eyes dim and I am taken back in time, To time when I was but an innocent upon the sea, To when life was simple with our sails silhouetted against the clouds, And all that mattered was when I reached into the night sky to grasp a star. I was a child on a wind ship sailing the sea, My courses laid by parents who were adventurers under tropical skies, Ports of call were many and filled my young mind with awe, And all under the canvas of a tall clipper called Caribee. From the bays of Cap Haitian, I rode a mule to the heights of Christophe‘s citadel, A fortress impregnable, but never used, To the pristine coral reefs and bays of the Virgin Isles, And across the blue Caribbean for which our ship was named. There was treasure found in the hideaways of pirate Black Beard, And old cannon we saw laying in the clear shallows, The ribs of ships that sank to the bottom, And the tales of those who first passed this way. A brass button and musket ball, Lay near the old sword hilt that may have smitten an unknown foe, We sailed on with the great trade winds behind us, Our ship bound for a secret port over the horizon. A voyage of pain and loss to the northern shores of fair Nova Scotia, Our schooner surely the last of the big gaffers, To lower away and jig for cod on Georges Bank, We knew not then but we were amongst the last. That we were living out the schooner man life’s final episodes, We could not know. We knew only what we saw and felt, Our tall schooner becalmed on Georges Bank, Our crew handing the cod jigs of yesteryear. And so I remember the days of yore with yearning, A tall ship under clear trade wind skies, White canvas above a blue Caribbean sea, My eye close and the memories become clear. I could not know what lay over the horizon, But there were adventures untold awaiting, There can be no better life than on the ocean wave, And now these memories are mine to share.

A memory of a time long ago

An Old Sailors Tale. Dedicated to the teachers & students of this fair province. The surrounding sea is stormy, and the great Atlantic hurls waves at us from all directions. From the deck of our speeding schooner we cannot see what lies over the horizon. That area beyond the curvature of the earth is hidden from us but you must believe that what is there is real and true. Beyond the horizon there are fair trade wind clouds drifting across a friendly light blue sky. Calm frien...dly deep blue seas await where storms dare not go. So lay life’s course with a good heart. Be always the best and the kindest. Your hand always with the open palm not the other. Then the calm seas beyond the horizon will always be there for you, waiting. I promise you this because I have been there. Captain R.L. Boudreau See more

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