Wind At My Back Tonight - edit3

[dukealien]

edit3;

We used to laugh at soldiers who could march
in step but barely sail and wouldn’t learn–
a soldier’s breeze, we called it, they might cope
so long as it blew strong from dead astern.

There’s foul winds I have faced my entire life
and tacked a weary course to claw ahead–
nor dare I claim I always fended off
temptation of saloon or lady’s bed.

I’ve never been a sneak thief– met a few,
and beat ‘em, with my shipmates, as their due;
I fought for what we thought was right and fit
but gave ‘em quarter if they asked for it.

So with my voyage done I don’t fear death
this midnight, or my raspy final breath:
I’ll set my stuns’ls, white as angel wings
to catch a soldier’s breeze... heading home.

---

Thanks again for the fine critiques.  I haven't been able to work in all the suggestions this time, but tried to make some improvements.

Explanations (not defenses?)

In the first stanza, he sets up the last one but also indulges in a stereotype:  soldiers can't sail  (they can manage a course of sorts by manhandling the tiller as if directing a cart horse) but sailors can't march, either - watching sailors move in formation, on land, will make you seasick.  Truth.  Sea legs and marching in step don't mix.

In the middle two stanzas he's making excuses for things he knows he's done wrong and setting them against virtuous acts ("foul" wind is a nautical term for one that doesn't blow your way, not its moral character or stench... though there's some ambiguity here).  Since he thinks, on balance, that he did alright, he's confident.

Unless there are glaring problems now, I think I'll put this one to bed.