The Boy Stood On the Burning Deck!

As I awoke this morning, the first morning of our vacation trip - I thought of those words - "The boy stood on the burning deck!"

It is a verse that I have considered several times lately, as I intended to use it for my Father's Day post. This morning it the words came to me without beckon, since it is a line a associate with vacations, Saturdays, and the like.

"The boy stood on the burning deck!..." is my Dad's wake up call. Now, as I remember Mom usually had the responsibility of getting me up on school days. Dad only stepped in when sleep held an especially stubborn sway over me.

But on the weekends and on the occasional vacation, Dad would bound in boisterously yelling:

"The boy stood on the burning deck! The BOY stood on the burning deck! THE B-O-Y stood on the burning deck ...and I don't see how he did it!"

This was repeated over and over with an emphasis on different words in the line upon each repetition.

I remember it fondly now, but when I was child and especially when I had reached adolescence - it could be very annoying.

It's my Dad's trademark.

My Dad is not verbal with his affection. It is very difficult for him to say - "I love you" - but he demonstrates his affection -often by teasing or picking on people. Waking people up - especially kids - in an annoying manner was a GREAT opportunity for Dad to show his love.

I think Dad's father - my Granddad - probably used the line himself. Dad certainly passed it on to us. I know my brother and I have attempted to carry on the tradition many times.

On this Father's Day - when Dad is not doing very well mentally or physically - that wake up call brings me warm memories.

Before posting this morning, I did some quick Internet research found that the line came from a poem from the 1800s, called "Casabianca" and was written by Felecia Dorothea Hemans. It surrounded an actual event that occurred in 1798 aboard the French vessel The Orient. When the ship caught fire (possibly during a battle with the British), the young son of the Commander, Louis de Casabianca, remained steadfastly at his post awaiting his father's instruction. The faithful boy perished when the magazine blew up.

I think I will place it here as a Father's Day tribute to my Dad and other dads everywhere (I pulled the poem fromhttp://endtimepilgrim.org/boystood.htm) :

Casabianca

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though childlike form.

The flames roll'd on...he would not go
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He call'd aloud..."Say, father, say
If yet my task is done!"
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, father!" once again he cried
"If I may yet be gone!"
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll'd on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death,
In still yet brave despair;

And shouted but one more aloud,
"My father, must I stay?"
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud
The wreathing fires made way,

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And stream'd above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound...
The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea.

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.


Even on vacations, my family doesn't respond well to being awakened suddenly by boisterous yelling. I guess we didn't welcome my Dad's occasional recitations either.

On this Father's Day, my Dad's voice is weak and his joy seems to have all but diminished - I remember the smile that could be heard in my his exuberant voice.


"'Speak Father' once again he cried..."

Happy Father's Day!