| #919: YouTube video by GrandBankerinNS ℗2010 ~ Used with permission ~ |
My name is Sandy Hayward,
I come from Bay du Nord,
I swear I've been a fisherman
since the day that I was born;
From a dory to a dragger,
to me it mattered none,
My comrades all were sailing men,
and the ocean was my home.
Now, the Lord He's been my Captain,
that much I know for sure,
In proof of which I'm sitting here
and now I'm eighty-four;
But the time that I won't soon forget
was in April, fifty-eight,
And if the good Lord wasn't on my side,
I wouldn't be here today.
My story now I'll tell to you,
as I recall the same,
On a dragger out of Mulgrave,
I'll ne'er forget her name;
She was the Sheila Patricia,
Lylie Helier in command,
Three of our crew were Scotia boys
and the rest from Newfoundland.
We were sailing to the fishing grounds
on a foggy, rolling sea,
'Round eleven o'clock, with all things well,
I was catching a little sleep,
When all at once the shout went up,
"Our vessel's all ablaze!"
And it soon began to look as if
that death would be our fate.
The galley stove exploded,
that's what caused the raging hell,
And our attempts to stop the blaze
were all to no avail;
And so the Sheila, rudderless,
with throttle open wide,
In helpless circles, all afire,
the ocean did inscribe.
The Captain's courage gave some hope
in the throes of our distress,
He faced the flaming wheelhouse
to send out SOS.;
But then he made a grave mistake,
convinced 'twas best to leave,
With six men more went overboard
when they cut their lifeboat free.
Oh, how we worked to save our friends,
but little could we do,
We threw them everything we had
that they might cling onto;
To try to save the lifeboat crew
when shipmate Maxwell Dodge,
Faced the fire to steer, but from cold
and fear the three died in the fog.
For seventeen exhausting hours
we stared that devil down,
Till everything on deck was burned,
but still we laboured on;
The Fairbanks stopped, but still
the blaze it's fury did ensue,
Fully bent on wiping out
the Sheila and her crew.
Now, no one knows Almighty God
and what He has in mind,
Why for us on Sheila's bow
He lengthened out our time;
Perhaps it was the spirit of
our old friend Billy Dodge,
Now seventy years and a life at sea,
but he never was lost for long.
After seven more hours, all burnt
and bruised, and neither food nor drink,
I could plainly see this was our end,
what else was there to think?
But then about five-thirty,
out of the mist and fog,
Came the trawler the Zebrula,
like an angel sent from God.
So now, my friends, I told my tale,
and I'm happy to relay,
I never thought I'd see this day
back in April, fifty-eight;
I thank the Lord for what He did,
though sad it makes me, too,
For the good ship Sheila Patricia
and all of her gallant crew.
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