Turn Her Round!

The morning broke on Brechtür's bay, Cold mist lay heavy on our way. The lookout cried, "Wreckage ahead!" Broken spars on waters red. A shattered skiff came drifting round, Six pale sailors there we found. We hauled them shaking from the foam— One survivor spoke of what had come. Turn her round! Turn her round! Flee these waters while we're sound! Call the wind and loose the sail— Something hunts beneath our trail! Turn her round! Turn her round! Leave the lost where they were drowned! Pray the western wind will blow— For the Kraken waits below! --- "The wind went dead, the sea went still, No gull remained above our keel. Then from below a crimson arm Rose through the waves and struck us hard. It broke our mast and crushed our side, Dragged screaming sailors with the tide. We struck with axe, we thrust with spear— But nothing mortal wounded it there. Our vessel broke beneath the foam. Six of us lived... the rest went down." --- His tale was done. No sailor spoke. Then suddenly our canvas drooped. No gulls above. No wind behind. The sea grew flat. The ropes went quiet. Three heavy knocks beneath the keel... And every soul aboard could feel— --- TURN HER ROUND! TURN HER ROUND! Wake the wind and flee this ground! Haul the sheets and loose the sail! Let Nesirie hear our wail! TURN HER ROUND! TURN HER ROUND! Leave these cursed waters now! Better storm and lightning's blow Than the Kraken down below! The western wind at last returned, Our sails grew full, our lanterns burned. And through the mist, far aft and low... Something followed us below.