Fanning Island

As far as islands go
It wasn’t a very big place,
Maybe only a few miles across,
But it sure looked mighty good
After a couple months at sea.

Fanning Island was a coral atoll
Covered in the palm trees
Of a copra plantation,
A lonely British protectorate
Largely left out of the 20th Century.

It housed a small population
Of several hundred people
Of Polynesian descent,
And a British governor
Who ruled the land.

We managed to motor
Into the inner lagoon
After nearly running aground
While navigating
The entrance channel.

My brother and I
Couldn’t believe our eyes
When we saw the Island girls
Swimming out to the boat
To greet us.

I had read a bit about
South Pacific Island hospitality,
And they were the fulfillment
Of ever fantasy
I ever entertained.

They only get two ships a year
Coming in with supplies
And picking up the coconuts,
So visitors were rare
To that part of the world.

They were probably as anxious
To get off that Island
As we were
To get off the ship,
But rules got in the way.

My brother and I
Left the states
In such a hurry
That we neglected
To get our US passports.

Imagine attempting to sail
Around the world
And forgetting such a detail,
But that was
Exactly what we had done!

As a consequence
My brother and I
Weren’t allowed off the boat
And the girls
Weren’t allowed on.

Damn the British
Rules of propriety!

We were almost
Completely out of supplies,
So the Islanders sold us
What they could,
Which wasn’t a very much.


What little supplies there were
Was more than
Our dingy could handle
And it ended up sinking six times
Ferrying supplies back and forth.

A few of the crew members
Entertained the idea
Of jumping ship there
And trying to catch
Another boat back.

They were dissuaded
From that plan
By the fact
That it might be another six months
Until the next boat came along.

Much to the governor’s delight
We headed back out to sea
After only a day at the Island,
Intent on sailing to Samoa,
And looking forward to whatever
New adventures were in stow for us.