Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SLAVE SHIP, by HEINRICH HEINE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE SLAVE SHIP, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The supercargo mynher van koek
Last Line: "there's an end to my occupation."
Subject(s): Blacks; Physicians; Ships & Shipping; Slavery; Doctors; Serfs


PART I.

THE supercargo Mynher Van Koek
In his cabin sits adding his figures;
He calculates his cargo's amount,
And the probable gain from his niggers.

"My gum and pepper are good: the stock
"Is three hundred chests of all sizes;
"I've gold dust and ivory too in store,
"But the black ware by far the best prize is.

"Six hundred niggers I bought dirt-cheap
"Where the Senegal river is flowing;
"Their flesh is firm, and their sinews tough
"As the finest iron going.

"I got them by barter, and gave in exchange
"Glass beads, steel goods, and some brandy;
"I shall make at least eight hundred per cent.
"With but half of them living and handy.

"If only three hundred niggers are left,
"When I get to Rio Janeiro,
"I shall have a hundred ducats a head
"From the house of Gonzales Perreiro." --

Here all of a sudden Mynher Van Koek
Was disturb'd in his meditation,
For Doctor Van Smissen enter'd in,
The vessel's surgeon by station.

His figure was just as thin as a lath,
And his nose had warts all over;
"Well, worthy Doctor," exclaim'd Van Koek,
"Are my niggers still living in clover?"

The Doctor thank'd him, and said in reply:
"I've come with a tale of disaster;
"Throughout the night, I'm sorry to say,
"The deaths have grown faster and faster.

"The average daily number is two,
"But to-day just seven have died, Sir, --
"Four men and three women; I wrote the loss
"At once in the log as my guide, Sir.

"I closely inspected every corpse,
"For these rascals have often a notion
"To feign themselves dead, in hopes that they
"May be thrown away into the ocean.

"I took the irons from off the dead,
"And according to usual custom
"Next morning early into the sea
"I bid the sailors thrust 'em.

"At once the sharks from out of the waves
"Shot up in countless legions;
"They love full dearly the niggers' flesh,
"My boarders are they in these regions.

"They have follow'd after the track of the ship,
"Since we've left the land in the distance;
"The creatures smell the scent of a corpse
"With ravenous snuffling persistence.

"In truth 'tis a capital joke to see
"How after the bodies they follow;
"One takes the head, another a leg,
"While the rest the fragments swallow.

"Then round the ship contented they roll,
"When they've finished their eating and crunching,
"And stare in my face, as if they sought
"To thank me for their luncheon." --

Then spake Van Koek, as he sadly sigh'd,
When the Doctor his story had finish'd:
"How to lessen the evil? In what way best
"Can the rate of the deaths be diminish'd?"

The Doctor replied: "Many niggers have died
"By their own misconduct stealthy;
"Their breath's so bad, that it poisons the air
"In the ship, and makes it unhealthy.

"Through lowness of spirits, too, many have died,
"And ennui, in this dreary stillness;
"I think that air and music and dance
"Would soon remove their illness." --

Then cried Van Koek: "An excellent plan!
"Dear Doctor, I utter no slander,
"When I say that like Aristotle you're wise,
"The tutor of Alexander.

"The Tulip-improvement Society's head
"In the town of Delft may be clever,
"But he hasn't one half of your brains, I'm sure, --
"Your equal I've met with never.

"Then, music, music! The niggers all
"On the deck I'll see dancing and kicking,
"And whosoever won't join in the fun
"Shall receive in reward a good licking."

PART II.

ON high, from the heaven's blue canopy,
Many thousand stars are gleaming,
Like the eyes of fair women, so large and clear,
And with locks of yearning beaming.

They're looking down on the ocean below,
Whose wavos in the distance are curling,
In phosphorescent blue vapour all veil'd,
While the billows are joyously whirling.

Not a sail on the slave-ship is fluttering now,
As though without tackle she's lying;
But lanthorns are glimmering high on the decks
Where the dance with the music is vying.

The cook of the vessel is playing the flute,
The steersman's playing the fiddle,
The trumpet is blown by the Doctor himself,
And a lad beats the drum in the middle.

A hundred niggers, both women and men,
Are yelling and whirling and leaping,
As though they were mad; and at every spring
Their irons the tune are keeping.

They stamp on the ground in uproarious mirth,
And many a swarthy maiden
Clasps her naked partner with warmth, while at times
The air with their groanings is laden.

The jailer acts as maitre des plaisirs,
And dealing his lashes so fearful,
The weary dancers he stimulates,
And bids them be merry and cheerful.

So dideldumdei and schnedderedeng!
The strange unwonted commotion
Aroused from their lazy slumbers below
The monsters fierce of the ocean.

All-heavy with sleep, the sharks swam up,
In numbers many a hundred;
They stupidly stared at the ship on high
With amazement, and blindly wondered.

They see that their usual breakfast time
Has not come as soon as 'tis wanted,
So they gape and ope wide their throats, their jaws
With teeth like saws being planted.

And dideldumdei and schnedderedeng!
There seems no end to the dances;
The sharks grow impatient, and bite themselves
In the tail with their teeth like lances.

I presume that for music they've got no taste,
Like many an ignoramus;
Trust not the beast that music loves not,
Says Albion's poet famous.

And schnedderedeng and dideldumdei!
Not one of the dancers seems lazy;
At the foremast stands Mynher Van Koek,
And with folded hands thus prays he:

"For Christ's dear sake, O spare, good Lord,
"The lives of these swarthy sinners;
"If they've anger'd thee e'er, thou know'st they're as dull
"As the beasts that we eat for our dinners.

"O spare their lives, for Christ's dear sake,
"Who died for our salvation;
"For unless I have left me three hundred head,
"There's an end to my occupation."





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