Itís been four years, we are prowling on the main Baptized to Jolly Roger in its water. We shot some holes, no planks could patch again, Though all who didnít fight were given quarter. But now itís warships who are giving us a chase: A raging bull that gets back at the drover. And from our captain we hear nothing but a phrase: Itís not yet over. Itís not yet over. The first frigate bore up and made a turn to port, Then powder fumes engulfed her like a cloud. We fire back a volley in retort, And some her crew have their luck run out. We sat in quite a few traps being worse. Albeit the wind is bad and getting slower. But our captain tells to change the course. Itís not yet over. Itís not yet over. The naval officers with their scopes enjoy Our agony like agitated hunters. But they shall never see us toiling soil, As convicts sold in chains to wealthy planters. For many hours they charged at our back, There must be something different to offer. We have some grapeshot left to rake a deck! Itís not yet over. Itís not yet over. Who doesnít yield, who didnít lose his nerve Ė There is a boarding party by the mizzen! And all the rats may get what they deserve, When once the water in the holds has risen. We took a chance, we wonít release the clench On odds to hang and odds to live in clover. By now we closed on the frigate to point blank range. Itís not yet over. Itís not yet over. Itís face to face, itís steel to steel, itís eye to eye, The sharks below are anxious for the fodder. You take a cutlass, take an axe, you take a pry, Or else our ship will take us underwater. But no! They must not sink her in the end. Sheís got one more ally, our sturdy rover. It is the ocean whoíll reach a helping hand... The captain had been right: It was not over.
© Oleg Eyrich. Translation, 2016