[critique] The Passenger

[Mark A Mandel <mam@xxxxxxxxxxxx>]

For the past several days the Muse has had me by the scruff of the
neck, shaking me mercilessly till this took more or less this form.
Comments, please, whatever you can say.

The Passenger
Words and music (c) 2001 Mark A. Mandel

He came to the river at evening,
His sandals were dusty and worn.
The wind blew the mist and the spray in his face
For his mantle was ragged and torn.
"Oh, sir, will you ferry me over?
My master has sent me in haste
To fetch back a cure for my lady his wife
And I haven't a moment to waste."

The ferryman looked at the river,
At the opposite shore, and the sky.
"The weather is foul, and the night's coming on,
And the water is choppy and high.
But you've traveled hard on your journey
And I'll give you the best that I can.
To do anything less, when a life is at stake,
Would be less than the work of a man."

The current was strong and contrary
And the wind pushed them back toward the shore.
The crash of the waves as they beat at the sides
Could scarcely be heard for its roar.
The ferryman strove with the tiller
To keep the small craft on its course.
To the passenger helplessly watching, he seemed
To use equal parts prayer, skill, and force.

When by cunning, by strength, or by mercy
The land was again 'neath their feet
The passenger said, as if shamed by the words,
"My master will want a receipt."
The pilot gazed over the water
Where the lights on the far landing burned.
"Too late for that now, but remember to ask
When crossing here on your return."

               *  *  *

Two days and a part of another
Had worn down to a calm afternoon.
His pack was now heavy with potions and salves
And he whistled a confident tune.
He said to the youth at the tiller
"I'll need a receipt for your fee,
And the boatman who took me three evenings ago
Said that his would be waiting for me."

The young man looked up from the water
And said in a curious tone:
"Three evenings ago -- 'twas the night of the storm --
I was working that day all alone.
I shut down two hours before sunset
'Cause the water and wind were too high,
And I never saw you. Are you sure of the day?"
There was something like fear in his eye.

"It was windy," the passenger answered,
"But my errand was urgent and grave.
He said he would take me in spite of the gale
Because there was a life to be saved.
He was sturdy, though grey and grey-bearded,
And I'd guess him for sixty, at most.
Your grandsire, perhaps?" The young man shook his head,
"You've met the old ferryman's ghost.

"'Twas a gusty night much like this other
And the ferry was loaded too high:
Eleven all told, and the luggage and all,
But he seems to have felt he must try.
They hadn't got out to midriver
When the gust blew up into a storm.
They were all of them drowned, and the tale is still told
Though it happened before I was born.

"Now, I wouldn't believe what you've told me
But it's happened some nine times before.
We'd best pay a call at the old pilot's grave
As soon as we come to the shore."
They found there the passenger's money
And a note with the following lines:
"Received, from a traveler crossing this night,
One fare, paid in full-- as is mine."

-- Mark A. Mandel, The Filker With No Nickname
     http://world.std.com/~mam/filk.html