Ports of Call: John Crowe Ransom's "Good Ships"

GOOD SHIPS
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974)

Fleet ships encountering on the high seas
Who speak, and then unto the vast diverge,
Two hailed each other, poised on the loud surge
Of one of Mrs. Grundy's Tuesday teas,
Nor trimmed one sail to baffle the driving breeze.
A macaroon absorbed all her emotion;
His hue was ruddy but an effect of ocean;
They exchanged the nautical technicalities.

It was only a nothing or so until they parted.
Away they went, most certainly bound for port,
So seaworthy one felt they could not sink;
Still there was a tremor shook them, I should think,
Beautiful timbers fit for storm and sport
And unto miserly merchant hulks converted.

The phrase, “tea party,” of late, connotes a political bent, though John Crowe Ransom’s poem refers to a high-society afternoon gathering of a time gone by. Then, as now, individuals feel the burden of singlehood. Whether meeting at a bar, a party, online, or through friends, a pressure exists – real or imagined – to pair up. The couple in Ransom’s “Good Ships,” seek camaraderie, food and fun at the tea party, but do not seek each other.

Previously acquainted, these two fleet members of the fleet meet once again on the “high seas” of Mrs. Grundy’s tea party, as they “[hail] each other” at the gathering. “High” connotes the style or breeding of a tea party room or indicates the boisterous room itself. The conversation cannot be intimate, as they must contend with the “loud surge” of the other party-goers. While the party is in full swing, neither fleet-mate feels the need to “baffle the driving breeze” as each maneuvers their way from hors d’oeuvre to canapé to petit four.

The woman becomes more and more a deserted island with each bite of her absorbing macaroon. She speaks to the man, yet she appears more interested in her delicious cocoanut morsel rather than giving him her full attention. In ship shape, she wants to be left alone, privately stowing her booty. He, meanwhile, is, “ruddy but an effect of ocean,” inferring either the temperature of the crowded room causing him to flush or having found the spiked punch and pausing several times to replenish his personal vessel. A lovely turn of phrase, “exchanged the nautical technicalities” indicates the couple exchanging weather pleasantries to pass the time. How often are, “Read any good books lately?” or “Hot, isn’t it?” the only things to say in an awkward encounter? Clearly, the couple is not having an easy, breezy conversation. Why stop to chat when there are hatches to batten down?

After “only a nothing or so,” though probably an interminable amount of time for each of them, these ships are “bound for port,” or, headed home separately – each to their individual port. Steering sure and true, the ships find themselves “so seaworthy one felt they could not sink,” their hulls full of good food and drink. Their ballast allows temporary stability and control, leading toward gastrointestinal reactions as, “a tremor shook them” on their journey home. Their tremors do not seem to be tainted with regret, but rather perhaps shudders at the memory of their uncomfortable encounter.

The poem’s final line, “And unto miserly merchant hulks converted,” is a bit of a stumper. Thankfully, blog commenters came to the rescue. Pre-party, the couple are individually “fleet” and “beautiful timbers fit for storm and sport,” able to pilot through seas choppy or calm. Post-party, they are each “hulks,” or no longer seaworthy. They hoard their booty in a miserly fashion – perhaps feeling wrecked, unwieldy, and used for storage rather than voyage. There will be other afternoon teas, other ports of call. A solo rest at home is all they need.

An online biography of Ransom notes that he, “…primarily wrote short poems examining the ironic and unsentimental nature of life.” The symbolism for these two individual ships could just as easily include Mrs. Grundy’s entire tea party fleet. These two people are in no need of a date, let alone each other. They meet at a party and they move on – ships passing in the night, as it were. Mrs. Grundy is perhaps a lighthouse in the harbor for her guests. Her Tuesday home is the place where any port in a storm will do, but these particular ships have sailed.