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Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. ©CI.A445216 CONTENTS SALT-WATER BALLADS PAGE A Consecration 3 The Yarn of the ' Loch Achray ' 5 Sing a Song o' Shipwreck 9 Burial Party 13 Bill 15 Fever Ship 16 Fever-Chills 17 One of the Bo'sun's Yarns 20 Hell's Pavement 25 Sea-Change 26 Harbour Bar 28 The Turn of the Tide 30 One of Wally's Yarns 33 A Valediction (Liverpool Docks) '36 A Night at Dago Tom's „ . 38 Port of Many Ships , . 40 Cape Horn Gospel — I 42 Cape Horn Gospel — H 44 Mother Carey 46 Evening — Regatta Day 48 A Valediction 49 A Pier-Head Chorus 51 V vi CONTENTS PAGE The Golden City of St. Mary 53 Trade Winds 54 Sea-Fever 55 ■A Wanderer's Song 56 Cardigan Bay 57 Christmas Eve at Sea 58 A Ballad of Cape St. Vincent 60 The Tarry Buccaneer 62 A Ballad of John Silver 64 Lyrics from 'The Buccaneer' 66 D'Avalos' Prayer 68 SEA PICTURES From Philip the King 71 From Dauber 79 From Biography I16 SALT-WATER POEMS The Ship and Her Makers 121 The New Bedford Whaler 123 Cargoes 124 Captain Stratton's Fancy 125 Third Mate 127 Posted as Missing 128 Ships 129 •Roadways 133 The "Wanderer" 135 The River 146 Glossary 161 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR The foremast broke *' Lord, what a handsome ship she be ! " It blew like the Bull of Barney, a beast of a breeze ' N' the ninth night out, in the middle-watch, I woke from a pleasant dream Yonder, round and ruddy, is the mellow old moon Out beyond the sunset, could I but find the way I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky The bursting west was like an opening flower So the night passed, but then no morning broke They heard the launch men shout . Came to an anchor near us on the flood . " Put back with all her sails gone,'' went the word Frontispiece FACING PAGE 4 i6 20 54 58 72 80 90 114 130 138 vu LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN BLACK AND WHITE PAGE Then a fierce squall struck the ' Loch Achray ' . facing 8 'Well, I clambers acrost o' the keel 'n' I gets me secured . ii ' We rigged up a tackle, a purchase, a sort of a shift ' facitig 12 He tottered out of the alleyway with cheeks the colour of paste 18 They towed her in to Liverpool, we made the hooker idiSi facing 24 ' Goneys an' gullies an' all o' the birds o' the sea ' . . -27 I shall hear the blocks a-grunting in the bumpkins overside . 31 The watch was up on the topsail-yard a-making fast the sail . 34 A Valediction (Liverpool Docks) .... facing 36 Oh yesterday, I t'ink it was, while cruisin' down the ^irttX. facing 40 On the passage home one morning . . . facing 44 Jake was a dirty Dago lad, an' he gave the skipper chm facing 48 The bow-wash is eddying, spreading from the bows . . 50 She'll log a giddy seventeen and rattle out the reel ... 52 I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide ........ f<^ci7ig 62 And first I'll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the g\A\% facing 66 He struck a ringbolt in his haste and fell — . . facing 98 Lashing the sea, and gasps came, and hearts sickened . • 117 And probing at the well, the captain found . . facing 1 52 And instantly a panic took the crew , . . facing 158 SALT-WATER BALLADS A CONSECRATION NOT of the princes and prelates with periwigged charioteers Riding triumphantly laurelled to lap the fat of the years, — Rather the scorned — the rejected — the men hemmed in with the spears ; The men of the tattered battalion which fights till it dies, Dazed with the dust of the battle, the din and the cries, The men with the broken heads and the blood running into their eyes. Not the be-medalled Commander, beloved of the throne, Riding cock-horse to parade when the bugles are blown. But the lads who carried the koppie and cannot be known. Not the ruler for me, but the ranker, the tramp of the road. The slave with the sack on his shoulders pricked on with the goad. The man with too weighty a burden, too weary a load. The sailor, the stoker of steamers, the man with the clout, The chantyman bent at the halliards putting a tune to the shout, The drowsy man at the wheel and the tired lookout. 3 4 SALT-WATER BALLADS Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth. The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth ; — Mine he the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of the earth ! Theirs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold; Mine he a handful of ashes, a mouthful of mould. Of the maimed, of the halt and the hlind in the rain and the cold — Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tales be told. Amen. "Lord, what a handsome ship she be Cheer her, sonny boys, three time three !" And the dockslde loafers gave her a shout As the red-funneled tugboat towed her out. n and tht 3d aria qiria^ 9md^bfiBir! £ l^riw ,bioJ'^^'- *'! 33ifij smij 33iflj ,8Yod ^nnoe ^isd i^^H^mln Juofia B i5rl 9V£§ aiaifiol abisiiDob sHj bfiA Juo i3fi bawoJ jBodguJ babiniu^-baT 5iij aA *;-.?#■ X, 'MM THE YARN OF THE *LOCH ACHRAY' The 'Loch Achray' was a clipper tall With seven-and-twenty hands in all. Twenty to hand and reef and haul, A skipper to sail and mates to bawl 'Tally on to the tackle-fall, Heave now 'n' start her, heave 'n' pawl !' Hear the yarn of a sailor. An old yarn learned at sea. Her crew were shipped and they said 'Farewell, So-long, my Tottie, my lovely gell ; We sail to-day if we fetch to hell. It's time we tackled the wheel a spell.' Hear the yarn of a sailor. An old yarn learned at sea. The dockside loafers talked on the quay The day that she towed down to sea : *Lord, what a handsome ship she be ! Cheer her, sonny boys, three times three!' And the dockside loafers gave her a shout As the red-funnelled tug-boat towed her out ; They gave her a cheer as the custom is. And the crew yelled 'Take our loves to Liz — 5 SALT-WATER BALLADS Three cheers, bullies, for old Pier Head 'N' the bloody stay-at-homes!' they said. Hear the yarn of a sailor, An old yarn learned at sea. In the grey of the coming on of night She dropped the tug at the Tuskar Light, 'N' the topsails went to the topmast head To a chorus that fairly awoke the dead. She trimmed her yards and slanted South With her royals set and a bone in her mouth. Hear the yarn of a sailor. An old yarn learned at sea. She crossed the Line and all went well, They ate, they slept, and they struck the bell And I give you a gospel truth when I state The crowd didn't find any fault with the Mate, But one night off the River Plate. Hear the yarn of a sailor, An old yarn learned at sea. It freshened up till it blew like thunder And burrowed her deep, lee-scuppers under. The old man said, 'I mean to hang on Till her canvas busts or her sticks are gone' — Which the blushing looney did, till at last Overboard went her mizzen-mast. Hear the yarn of a sailor. An old yarn learned at sea. THE YARN OF THE 'LOCH ACHRAY* Then a fierce squall struck the 'Loch Achray' And bowed her down to her water-way ; Her main-shrouds gave and her forestay, And a green sea carried her wheel away ; Ere the watch below had time to dress She was cluttered up in a blushing mess. Hear the yarn of a sailor, An old yarn learned at sea. She couldn't lay-to nor yet pay-off, And she got swept clean In the bloody trough ; Her masts were gone, and afore you knowed She filled by the head and down she goed. Her crew made seven-and-twenty dishes For the big jack-sharks and the little fishes, And over their bones the water swishes. Hear the yarn of a sailor. An old yarn learned at sea. The wives and girls they watch in the rain For a ship as won't come home again. *I reckon it's them head-winds,' they say, * She'll be home to-morrow, if not to-day. I'll just nip home 'n' I'll air the sheets 'N' buy the fixins 'n' cook the meats As my man likes 'n' as my man eats.' So home they goes by the windy streets, Thinking their men are homeward bound SALT-WATER BALLADS With anchors hungry for English ground, And the bloody fun of it is, they're drowned ! Hear the yarn of a sailor, An old yarn learned at sea. SING A SONG O' SHIPWRECK He lolled on a bollard, a sun-burned son of the sea, With ear-rings of brass and a jumper of dungaree, *'N' many a queer lash-up have I seen,' says he. *But the toughest hooray o' the racket,' he says, 'I'll be sworn, 'N' the roughest traverse I worked since the day I was born. Was a packet o' Sailor's Delight as I scoffed in the seas o' the Horn. *A11 day long in the calm she had rolled to the swell, Rolling through fifty degrees till she clattered her bell ; 'N' then came snow, 'n' a squall, 'n' a wind was colder 'n hell. *It blew like the Bull of Barney, a beast of a breeze, 'N' over the rail come the cold green lollopin' seas, 'N' she went ashore at the dawn on the Ramirez. *She was settlin' down by the stern when I got to the deck, Her waist was a smother o' sea as was up to your neck, 'N' her masts were gone, 'n' her rails, 'n' she was a wreck. 9 lo SALT-WATER BALLADS *We rigged up a tackle, a purchase, a sort of a shift, To hoist the boats off o' the deck-house and get them adrift. When her stern gives a sickenin' settle, her bows give a lift, *'N' comes a crash of green water as sets me afloat With freezing fingers clutching the keel of a boat — The bottom-up whaler — 'n' that was the juice of a note. *Well, I clambers acrost o' the keel 'n' I gets me secured, When I sees a face in the white o' the smother to looard, So I gives 'im a 'and, 'n' be shot if it wasn't the stooard 1 *So he climbs up forrard o' me, 'n' "thanky," a' says, 'N' we sits 'n' shivers 'n' freeze to the bone wi' the sprays, 'N' / sings "Abel Brown," 'n' the stooard he prays. 'Wi' never a dollop to sup nor a morsel to bite. The lips of us blue with the cold 'n' the heads of us light. Adrift in a Cape Horn sea for a day 'n' a night. *'N' then the stooard goes dotty 'n' puts a tune to his lip, 'N' moans about Love like a dern old hen wi' the pip — (I sets no store upon stooards — they ain't no use on a ship). SING A SONG O' SHIPWRECK II 12 SALT-WATER BALLADS *'N' "mother," the looney cackles, "come 'n' put Willy to bed!" So I says "Dry up, or I'll fetch you a crack o' the head" ; "The kettle's a-bilin'," he answers, "'n' I'll go butter the bread." *'N' he falls to singin' some slush about cllnkin' a can, 'N' at last he dies, so he does, 'n' I tells you, Jan, I was glad when he did, for he weren't no fun for a man. *So he falls forrard, he does, 'n' he closes his eye, 'N' quiet he lays 'n' quiet I leaves him lie, 'N' I was alone with his corp, 'n' the cold green sea and the sky. *'N' then I dithers, I guess, for the next as I knew Was the voice of a mate as was sayin' to one of the crew, "Easy, my son, wi' the brandy, be shot if he ain't comin'-tol"' BURIAL PARTY *He's deader 'n nails,' the fo'c's'le said, *'n* gone to his long sleep' ; *'N' about his corp,' said Tom to Dan, *d'ye think his corp'll keep Till the day's done, 'n' the work's through, 'n' the ebb's upon the neap ?' *He's deader 'n nails,' said Dan to Tom, *'n' I wish his sperrit j'y ; He spat straight 'n' he steered true, but listen to me, say I, Take 'n' cover 'n' bury him now, 'n' I'll take 'n' tell you why. *It's a rummy rig of a guffy's yarn, 'n' the juice of a rummy note. But if you buries a corp at night, it takes 'n' keeps afloat, For its bloody soul's afraid o' the dark 'n' sticks within the throat. *'N' all the night till the grey o' the dawn the dead 'un has to swim With a blue 'n' beastly Will o' the Wisp a-burnin' over him, 13 14 SALT-WATER BALLADS With a herring, maybe, a-scoffin' a toe or a shark a-chew- in' a limb. *'N' all the night the shiverin' corp it has to swim the sea, With its shudderin' soul inside the throat (where a soul's no right to be), Till the sky's grey 'n' the dawn's clear, 'n' then the sperrit's free. *Now Joe was a man was right as rain. I'm sort of sore for Joe, 'N' If we bury him durin' the day, his soul can take 'n' go; So we'll dump his corp when the bell strikes 'n' we can get below. *Fd fairly hate for him to swim in a blue 'n' beastly light. With his shudderin' soul inside of him a-feelin' the fishes bite. So over he goes at noon, say I, 'n' he shall sleep to-night.* BILL He lay dead on the cluttered deck and stared at the cold skies, With never a friend to mourn for him nor a hand to close his eyes : *Bill, he's dead,' was all they said; *he's dead, 'n' there he lies.' The mate came forrard at seven bells and spat across the rail : * Just lash him up wi' some holystone in a clout o' rotten sail, 'N', rot ye, get a gait on ye, ye're slower'n a bloody snail !' When the rising moon was a copper disc and the sea was a strip of steel, We dumped him down to the swaying weeds ten fathom beneath the keel. *It's rough about Bill,' the fo'c's'le said, * we'll have to stand his wheel.' IS FEVER SHIP There'll be no weepin' gells ashore when our ship sails, Nor no crews cheerin' us, standin' at the rails, 'N' no Blue Peter a-foul the royal stay, For we've the Yellow Fever — Harry died to-day. — It's cruel when a fo'c's'le gets the fever ! 'N' Dick has got the fever-shakes, 'n' look what I was told (I went to get a sack for him to keep him from the cold) : *Sir, can I have a sack?' I says, *for Dick 'e's fit to die.' *0h, sack be shot!' the skipper says, 'jest let the rotter lie!' — It's cruel when a fo'c's'le gets the fever ! It's a cruel port is Santos, and a hungry land. With rows o' graves already dug in yonder strip of sand, 'N' Dick is hollerin' up the hatch, 'e says 'e's goin' blue. His pore teeth are chattering, 'n' what's a man to do t — It's cruel when a fo'c's'le gets the fever ! i6 It blew like the Bull of Barney, a bear.t of a breeze, 'N' over the rail come the cold green loUopin'^ seas, 'N' she went ashore at the dawn on the Ramirez. SHIP re when our ship sails. Harry died today. — c's'lc gets " toid ..'\ . -(3m£c[ il 'iiiquiitjl u'l^iig bloo 9ih ^aiuj liti S:lJ i-^ ^ )Ilerin^ u A' ^ -M-ft no iiT/fib 3f(j J£ aiofik'/naw aHe *H* V * FEVER-CHILLS He tottered out of the alleyway with cheeks the colour of paste, And shivered a spell and mopped his brow with a clout of cotton waste : 'I've a lick of fever-chills,' he said, "n' my inside it's green, But I'd be as right as rain,' he said, 'if I had some quinine, — But there ain't no quinine for us poor sailor-men. *But them there passengers,' he said, 'if they gets fever- chills, There's brimmin' buckets o' quinine for them, 'n' bulgin' crates o' pills, 'N' a doctor with Latin 'n' drugs 'n' all — enough to sink a town, 'N' they lies quiet in their blushln' bunks 'n' mops their gruel down, — But there ain't none o' them fine ways for us poor sailor- men. 'But the Chief comes forrard 'n' he says, says he, "I give you a straight tip : c 17 i8 SALT-WATER BALLADS He tottered out of the alleyway with cheeks the colour of paste, And shivered a spell and mopped his brow with a clout of cotton waste : 'I've a lick of fever-chills,' he said, ' 'n' my inside it's green, But I'd be as right as rain,' he said, ' if I had some quinine, — But there ain't no quinine for us poor sailor-men.' FEVER-CHILLS 19 Come none o' your Cape Horn fever lays aboard o' this yer ship. On wi' your rags o' duds, my son, 'n' aft, 'n' down the hole : The best cure known for fever-chills is shovelling bloody coal.'' It's hardy my son, that's what it is, for us poor sailor- men.' ONE OF THE BO'SUN'S YARNS Loafin' around in Sailor Town, a-bluin' o' my advance, I met a derelict donkeyman who led me a merry dance, Till he landed me 'n' bleached me fair in the bar of a rum-saloon, 'N' there he spun me a juice of a yarn to this-yer brand of tune. *It's a solemn gospel, mate,' he says, *but a man as ships aboard A steamer-tramp, he gets his whack of the wonders of the Lord — Such as roaches crawlin' over his bunk, 'n' snakes inside his bread. And work by night and work by day enough to strike him dead. *But that there's by the way,' says he; *the yarn I'm goin' to spin Is about myself 'n' the life I led in the last ship I was in, The "Esmeralda," casual tramp, from Hull towards the Hook, Wi' one o' the brand o' Cain for mate 'n' a human mis- take for cook. 20 ONE OF THE BO'SUN'S YARNS 21 'We'd a week or so of dippin' around in a wind from outer hell, With a fathom or more of broken sea at large in the forrard well, Till our boats were bashed and bust and broke and gone to Davy Jones, 'N' then come white Atlantic fog as chilled us to the bones. *We slowed her down and started the horn and watch and watch about, We froze the marrow in all our bones a-keepin' a good look-out, 'N' the ninth night out, in the middle watch, I woke from a pleasant dream, With the smash of a steamer ramming our plates a point abaft the beam. *'Twas cold and dark when I fetched the deck, dirty 'n' cold 'n' thick, 'N' there was a feel in the way she rode as fairly turned me sick ; — She was settlin', listin' quickly down, 'n' I heard the mates a-cursin', 'N' I heard the wash 'n' the grumble-grunt of a steamer's *She was leavin' us, mate, to sink or swim, 'n' the words we took 'n' said 22 SALT-WATER BALLADS They turned the port-light grassy-green 'n' the starboard rosy-red. We give her a hot perpetual taste of the singeing curse of Cain, As we heard her back 'n' clear the wreck 'n* off to her course again. *Then the mate came dancin' on to the scene, *n' he says, "Now quit yer chin, Or I'll smash yer skulls, so help me James, 'n' let some wisdom in. Ye dodderin' scum o' the slums," he says, "are ye drunk or blazin' daft ? If ye wish to save yer sickly hides, ye'd best contrive a raft." * So he spoke us fair and turned us to, 'n' we wrought wi' tooth and nail Wi' scantling, casks, 'n' coops 'n' ropes, 'n* boiler-plates 'n' sail, 'N' all the while it were dark 'n^ cold 'n' dirty as it could be, 'N' she was soggy 'n' settlin' down to a berth beneath the sea. * Soggy she grew, 'n' she didn't lift, 'n' she listed more 'n' more. Till her bell struck 'n' her boiler-pipes began to wheeze ONE OF THE BO'SUN'S YARNS 23 She settled, settled, listed, heeled, 'n' then may I be cust, If her sneezin', wheezin' boiler-pipes did not begin to bust! "N' then the stars began to shine, 'n' the birds began to sing, 'N' the next I knowed I was bandaged up 'n' my arm were in a sling, 'N' a swab in uniform were there, 'n' "Well," says he, "Vhow Are yer arms, 'n' legs, 'n' liver, 'n' lungs, 'n' bones a-feelin' now?" "^ Where am I?" says I, 'n' he says, says he, a-cantin' to the roll, "You're aboard the R.M.S. 'Marie' in the after Glory- Hole, 'N' you've had a shave, if you wish to know, from the port o' Kingdom Come. Drink this," he says, 'n' I takes 'n' drinks, 'n' s'elp me, it was rum 1 * Seven survivors seen 'n' saved of the "Esmeralda's" crowd, Taken aboard the sweet "Marie" 'n' bunked 'n' treated proud, 'N' D.B.S.'d to Mersey Docks ('n' a joyful trip we made), 'N' there the skipper were given a purse by a grateful Board of Trade. 24 SALT-WATER BALLADS 'That's the end o' the yarn,' he says, 'n' he takes 'n* wipes his lips, * Them's the works o' the Lord you sees in steam 'n' sallin' ships, — Rocks 'n' fogs 'n' shatterin' seas 'n' breakers right ahead, 'N' work o' nights 'n' work o' days enough to strike you dead.' I HELL'S PAVEMENT *When Fm discharged in Liverpool 'n' draws my bit o' pay, I won't come to sea no more. I'll court a pretty little lass 'n' have a weddin' day, 'N' settle somewhere down ashore. I'll never fare to sea again a-temptin' Davy Jones, A-hearkening to the cruel sharks a-hungerin' for my bones ; I'll run a blushin' dairy-farm or go a-crackin' stones, Or buy 'n' keep a little liquor-store,' — So he said. They towed her in to Liverpool, we made the hooker fast. And the copper-bound officials paid the crew, And Billy drew his money, but the money didn't last, For he painted the alongshore blue, — It was rum for Poll, and rum for Nan, and gin for Jolly Jack. He shipped a week later in the clothes upon his back, He had to pinch a little straw, he had to beg a sack To sleep on, when his watch was through, — So he did. 25 SEA-CHANGE *GoNEYS an' gullies an' all o' the birds o' the sea, They ain't no birds, not really,' said Billy the Dane. *Not mollies, nor gullies, nor goneys at all,' said he, *But simply the sperrits of mariners livin' again. *Them birds goin' fishin' is nothin' but souls o' the drowned, Souls o' the drowned an' the kicked as are never no more; An' that there haughty old albatross cruisin' around, Belike he's Admiral Nelson or Admiral Noah. *An' merry's the life they are living. They settle and dip, They fishes, they never stands watches, they waggle their wings ; When a ship comes by, they fly to look at the ship To see how the nowaday mariners manages things. * When freezing aloft in a snorter, I tell you I wish — (Though maybe it ain't like a Christian) — I wish I could be A haughty old copper-bound albatross dipping for fish And coming the proud over all o' the birds o' the sea.' 26 'N' the ninth night out, in the middle-watch, I woke from a pleas- ant dream, With the smash of a steamer ramming our plates a point abaft the beam. e birds o' the sea, aeain. SEA-CHANGE 27 * Goneys an' gullies an' all o' the birds o' the sea, They ain't no birds, not really,' said Billy the Dane. ' Not mollies, nor gullies, nor goneys at all, ' said he, * But simply the sperrits of mariners livin' again, *Them birds goin' fishin' is nothin' but souls o' the drowned, An' that there haughty old albatross cruisin' around, Belike he's Admiral Nelson or Admiral Noah.' HARBOUR BAR All In the feathered palm-tree tops the bright green parrots screech, The white line of the running surf goes booming down the beach, But I shall never see them, though the land lies close aboard, I've shaped the last long silent tack as takes one to the Lord. Give me the Scripters, Jakey, 'n' my pipe atween my lips, I'm bound for somewhere south and far beyond the track of ships ; I've run my rags of colours up and clinched them to the stay. And God the pilot's come aboard to bring me up the bay. You'll mainsail-haul my bits o' things when Christ has took my soul, 'N' you'll lay me quiet somewhere at the landward end the Mole, Where I shall hear the steamers' sterns a-squattering from the heave. And the topsail blocks a-piping when a rope-yarn fouls the sheave. 28 HARBOUR BAR 29 Give me a sup of lime-juice; Lord, I'm drifting in to port, The landfall lies to windward and the wind comes light and short, And I'm for signing off and out to take my watch below. And — prop a fellow, Jakey — Lord, it's time for me to go! THE TURN OF THE TIDE An' Bill can have my sea-boots, Nigger Jim can have my knife, You can divvy up the dungarees an' bed, An' the ship can have my blessing, an' the Lord can have my life, An' sails an' fish my body when I'm dead. An' dreaming down below there in the tangled greens an' blues, Where the sunlight shudders golden round about, I shall hear the ships complainin' an' the cursin' of the crews. An' be sorry when the watch is tumbled out. I shall hear them hilly-hollying the weather crojick brace, And the sucking of the wash about the hull ; When they chanty up the topsail I'll be hauling in my place. For my soul will follow seawards like a gull. I shall hear the blocks a-grunting in the bumpkins over- side. An' the slatting of the storm-sails on the stay, An' the rippling of the catspaw at the making of the tide. An' the swirl and splash of porpoises at play. 30 THE TURN OF THE TIDE ^^^-^^;S:i^^2 32 SALT-WATER BALLADS An' Bill can have my sea-boots, Nigger Jim can have my knife, You can divvy up the whack I haven't scofft, An' the ship can have my blessing and the Lord can have my life. For it's time I quit the deck and went aloft. ONE OF WALLY'S YARNS The watch was up on the topsail-yard a-making fast the sail, 'N' Joe was swiggin' his gasket taut, 'n' I felt the stirrup give, 'N' he dropped sheer from the tops'1-yard 'n' barely cleared the rail, 'N' o' course, we bein' aloft, we couldn't do nothin' — We couldn't lower a boat and go a-lookin' for him, For it blew hard 'n' there was sech a sea runnin' That no boat wouldn't live. I seed him rise in the white o' the wake, I seed him lift a hand ('N' him in his oilskin suit 'n' all), I heard him lift a cry; 'N' there was his place on the yard 'n' all, 'n' the stirrup's busted strand. 'N' the old man said there's a cruel old sea runnin', A cold green Barney's Bull of a sea runnin' ; It's hard, but I ain't agoin' to let a boat be lowered : So we left him there to die. He couldn't have kept afloat for long an' him lashed up 'n' all, D 33 34 SALT-WATER BALLADS The watch was up on the topsail-yard a-making fast the sail, 'N' Joe was swiggin' his gasket taut, 'n' I felt the stirrup gi've, 'N' he dropped sheer from the tops' 1-yard 'n' barely cleared the rail, 'N' o' course, we bein' aloft, ive couldn't do nothin' — We couldn't lower a boat and go a-lookin' for him, For it blew hard 'n' there was sech a sea runnin' That no boat wouldn't live. ONE OF WALLY'S YARNS 35 'N' we couldn't see him for long, for the sea was blurred with the sleet 'n' snow, 'N' we couldn't think of him much because o' the snortin', screamin' squall. There was a hand less at the halliards 'n' the braces, 'N' a name less when the watch spoke to the muster-roll, 'N' a empty bunk 'n' a pannikin as wasn't wanted When the watch went below. A VALEDICTION (LIVERPOOL DOCKS) A CRIMP. A DRUNKEN SAILOR. Is there anything as I can do ashore for you When you've dropped down the tide ? — You can take 'n' tell Nan I'm goln' about the world agen, 'N' that the world's wide. 'N' tell her that there ain't no postal service Not down on the blue sea. 'N' tell her that she'd best not keep her fires alight Nor set up late for me. 'N' tell her I'll have forgotten all about her Afore we cross the Line. 'N' tell her that the dollars of any other sailorman Is as good red gold as mine. Is there anything as I can do aboard for you Afore the tow-rope^ s taut? I'm new to this packet and all the ways of her, 'N' I don't know of aught; But I knows as I'm goin' down to the seas agen 'N' the seas are salt 'n' drear ; But I knows as all the doin' as you're man enough for Won't make them lager-beer. 36 A Valediction (Liverpool Docks) A Crimp A Drunken Sailor A VALEDICTION (LIVERPOOL DOCKS) 37 W ain't there nothin' as I can do ashore for you When you^ve got fair afloat ? — You can buy a farm with the dollars as you've done me of 'N' cash my advance-note. Is there any thin' you^d fancy for your breakfastin* When you're home across Mersey Bar ? — I wants a red herrin' 'n' a prairie oyster 'N' a bucket of Three Star, 'N' a gell with redder lips than Polly has got, 'N' prettier ways than Nan — Well, so-long, Billy ^ 'n' a spankin' heavy pay-day to you ! So-long, my fancy man ! A NIGHT AT DAGO TOM'S Oh yesterday, I t'ink it was, while cruisin' down the street, I met with Bill. — 'Hullo,' he says, 'let's give the girls a treat.' We'd red bandanas round our necks 'n' our shrouds new rattled down, So we filled a couple of Santy Cruz and cleared for Sailor Town. We scooted south with a press of sail till we fetched to a caboose, The 'Sailor's Rest,' by Dago Tom, alongside 'Paddy's Goose.' Red curtains to the windies, ay, 'n' white sand to the floor, And an old blind fiddler liltin' the tune of 'Lowlands no more.' He played the 'Shaking of the Sheets' 'n' the couples did advance. Bowing, stamping, curtsying, in the shuffling of the dance ; The old floor rocked and quivered, so it struck beholders dumb, 38 A NIGHT AT DAGO TOM'S 39 'N' arterwards there was sweet songs 'n' good Jamaikey rum. 'N' there was many a merry yarn of many a merry spree Aboard the ships with royals set a-sailing on the sea, Yarns of the hooker 'Spindrift,' her as had the clipper- bow, — *There ain't no ships,' says Bill to me, 'like that there hooker now.' When the old blind fiddler played the tune of 'Pipe the Watch Below,' The skew-eyed landlord dowsed the glim and bade us 'stamp 'n' go,' 'N' we linked it home, did Bill 'n' I, adown the scattered streets. Until we fetched to Land o' Nod atween the linen sheets. PORT OF MANY SHIPS 'It's a sunny pleasant anchorage, is Kingdom Come, Where crews is always layin' aft for double-tots rum, 'N' there's dancin' 'n' fiddlin' of ev'ry kind o' sort, It's a fine place for sailor-men is that there port. 'N' I wish — I wish as I was there. *The winds is never nothin' more than jest light airs, 'N' no-one gets belayin'-pinned, 'n' no-one never swears, Yer free to loaf an' laze around, yer pipe atween yer lips, Lollin' on the fo'c's'le, sonny, lookin' at the ships. 'N' I wish — I wish as I was there. *For ridin' in the anchorage the ships of all the world Have got one anchor down 'n' all sails furled. All the sunken hookers 'n' the crews as took 'n' died They lays there merry, sonny, swingin' to the tide. 'N' I -wish — I wish as I was there. 40 PORT OF MANY SHIPS 41 * Drowned old wooden hookers green wi' drippin' wrack, Ships as never fetched to port, as never came back, Swingin' to the blushin' tide, dippin' to the swell, 'N' the crews all singin', sonny, beatin' on the bell. 'N' I wish — I wish as I was there.' CAPE HORN GOSPEL — I 'I WAS in a hooker once/ said Karlssen, *And Bill, as was a seaman, died, So we lashed him in an old tarpaulin And tumbled him across the side ; And the fun of it was that all his gear was Divided up among the crew Before that blushing human error, Our crawling little captain, knew. *0n the passage home one morning (As certain as I prays for grace) There was old Bill's shadder a-hauling At the weather mizzen-topsail brace. He was all grown green with sea-weed, He was all lashed up and shored ; So I says to him, I says, "Why, Billy! What's a-bringin' of you back aboard .?" '"I'm a-weary of them there mermaids," Says old Bill's ghost to me ; "It ain't no place for a Christian Below there — under sea. For it's all blown sand and shipwrecks, 42 CAPE HORN GOSPEL — I 43 And old bones eaten bare, And them cold fishy females With long green weeds for hair. '^'And there ain't no dances shuffled, And no old yarns is spun, And there ain't no stars but starfish, And never any moon or sun. I heard your keel a-passing And the running rattle of the brace," And he says, "Stand by," says William, "For a shift towards a better place." 'Well, he sogered about decks till sunrise, When a rooster In the hen-coop crowed, And as so much smoke he faded And as so much smoke he goed ; And I've often wondered since, Jan, How his old ghost stands to fare Long o' them cold fishy females With long green weeds for hair.' CAPE HORN GOSPEL — II Jake was a dirty Dago lad, an' he gave the skipper chin, An' the skipper up an' took him a crack with an iron belaying-pin Which stiffened him out a rusty corp, as pretty as you could wish, An' then we shovelled him up in a sack an' dumped him to the fish. That was jest arter we'd got sail on her. Josey slipped from the tops'1-yard an' bust his bloody back (Which comed from playing the giddy goat an' leavin' go the jack) ; We lashed his chips in clouts of sail an' ballasted him with stones, *The Lord hath taken away,' we says, an' we give him to Davy Jones. An' that was afore we were up with the Line. Joe were chippin' a rusty plate a-squattin' upon the deck, An' all the watch he had the sun a-singein' him on the neck. An' forrard he falls at last, he does, an' he lets his mallet go, 44 CAPE HORN GOSPEL — II 45 Dead as a nail with a calenture, an' that was the end ofv Joe. An' that was just afore we made the Plate. All o' the rest were sailor-men, an' it come to rain an' squall, An' then it was halliards, sheets, an 'tacks *clue up, an' let go all.' We snugged her down an' hove her to, an' the old con- trairy cuss Started a plate, an' settled an' sank, an' that was the end of us. We slopped around on coops an' planks in the cold an' in the dark. An' Bill were drowned, an' Tom were ate by a swine of a cruel shark. An' a mail-boat reskied Harry an' I (which comed of pious prayers), Which brings me here a-kickin' my heels in the port of Buenos Ayres. I'm bound for home in the ^Oronook,' in a suit of looted duds, A D.B.S. a-earnin' a stake by helpin' peelin' spuds. An' if ever I fetch to Prince's Stage an' sets my feet ashore. You bet your hide that there I stay, an' follers the sea no more. MOTHER CAREY (as told me by the bo'sun) Mother Carey ? She's the mother o' the witches 'N' all them sort o' rips ; She's a fine gell to look at, but the hitch Is, She's a sight too fond of ships. She lives upon a iceberg to the norred, 'N' her man he's Davy Jones, 'N' she combs the weeds upon her forred With pore drowned sailors' bones. She's the mother o' the wrecks, 'n' the mother Of all big winds as blows ; She's up to some deviltry or other When it storms, or sleets, or snows. The noise of the wind's her screamin', 'I'm arter a plump, young, fine, Brass-buttoned, beefy-ribbed young seam'n So as me 'n' my mate kin dine.' She's a hungry old rip 'n' a cruel For sailor-men like we, She's give a many mariners the gruel 'N' a long sleep under sea. 46 MOTHER CAREY 47 She's the blood o' many a crew upon her N' the bones of many a wreck, 'N' she's barnacles a-growln' on her 'N' shark's teeth round her neck. I ain't never had no schoolin' Nor read no books like you, But I knows 't ain't healthy to be foolin' With that there gristly two. You're young, you thinks, 'n' you're lairy, But if you're to make old bones, Steer clear, I says, o' Mother Carey, 'N' that there Davy Jones. EVENING — REGATTA DAY Your nose is a red jelly, your mouth's a toothless wreck, And I'm atop of you, banging your head upon the dirty deck; And both your eyes are bunged and blind like those of a mewling pup, For you're the juggins who caught the crab and lost the ship the Cup. He caught a crab in the spurt home, this blushing cherub did, And the 'Craigie's' whaler slipped ahead like a cart-wheel on the skid. And beat us fair by a boat's nose though we sweated fit to start her, So we are playing at Nero now, and he^s the Christian martyr. And Stroke is lashing a bunch of keys to the buckle-end a belt. And we're going to lay you over a chest and baste you till you melt. The *Craigie' boys are beating the bell and cheering down the tier. D'ye hear, you Port Mahone baboon, I ask you, do you hear ? 48 Jake was a dirty Dago lad, an' he gave the skipper chin, An' the skipper up an' took him a crack with an iron belaying-pin Which stiffened him out a rusty corp, as pretty as you could wish, An' then we shovelled him up in a sack an' dumped him to the fish. That was just arter we'd got sail on her. A VALEDICTION We're bound for blue water where the great winds blow, It's time to get the tacks aboard, time for us to go ; The crowd's at the capstan and the tune's in the shout, 'A long pull, a strong pull, and warp the hooker out.'' The bow-wash is eddying, spreading from the bows, Aloft and loose the topsails and some one give a rouse; A salt Atlantic chanty shall be music to the dead, *A long pull, a strong pull, and the yard to the masthead' Green and merry run the seas, the wind comes cold. Salt and strong and pleasant, and worth a mint of gold ; And she's staggering, swooping, as she feels her feet, *A long pull, a strong pull, and aft the main-sheet.' Shrilly squeal the running sheaves, the weather-gear strains. Such a clatter of chain-sheets, the devil's in the chains; Over us the bright stars, under us the drowned, *A long pull, a strong pull, and we're outward hound' Yonder, round and ruddy, is the mellow old moon, The red-funnelled tug has gone, and now, sonny, soon We'll be clear of the Channel, so watch how you steer, *Ease her when she pitches, and so-long^ my dear,' E 49 so SALT-WATER BALLADS The bow-wash is eddying, spreading from the bows, Aloft and loose the topsails and some one give a rouse j A salt Atlantic chanty shall be music to the dead, * A long pull, a strong pull, and the yard to the masthead. A PIER-HEAD CHORUS Oh I'll be chewing salted horse and biting flinty bread, And dancing with the stars to watch, upon the fo'c's'le head, Hearkening to the bow-wash and the welter of the tread Of a thousand tons of clipper running free. For the tug has got the tow-rope and will take us to the Downs, Her paddles churn the river-wrack to muddy greens and browns, And I have given river-wrack and all the filth of towns For the rolling, combing cresters of the sea. We'll sheet the mizzen-royals home and shimmer down the Bay, The sea-line blue with billows, the land-line blurred and grey; The bow-wash will be piling high and thrashing into spray. As the hooker's fore-foot tramples down the swell. She'll log a giddy seventeen and rattle out the reel. The weight of all the run-out line will be a thing to feel. As the bacca-quidding shell-back shambles aft to take the wheel. And the sea-sick little middy strikes the bell. 51 52 SALT-WATER BALLADS THE GOLDEN CITY OF ST. MARY Out beyond the sunset, could I but find the way, Is a sleepy blue laguna which widens to a bay, And there's the Blessed City — so the sailors say — The Golden City of St. Mary. It's built of fair marble — white — without a stain, And in the cool twilight when the sea-winds wane The bells chime faintly, like a soft, warm rain. In the Golden City of St. Mary. Among the green palm-trees where the fire-flies shine. Are the white tavern tables where the gallants dine, Singing slow Spanish songs like old mulled wine. In the Golden City of St. Mary. Oh I'll be shipping sunset-wards and westward-ho Through the green toppling combers a-shattering into snow, Till I come to quiet moorings and a watch below, In the Golden City of St. Mary. S3 TRADE WINDS In the harbour, In the island, in the Spanish Seas, Are the tiny white houses and the orange-trees, And day-long, night long, the cool and pleasant breeze Of the steady Trade Winds blowing. There Is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale, The shuffle of the dancers, the old salt's tale, The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail Of the steady Trade Winds blowing. And o' nights there's fire-flies and the yellow moon, And In the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon Of the steady Trade Winds blowing. 54 • $^ Yonder, round and ruddy, is the mellow old moon. The red-funneled tug has gone, and now, soony, soon We'll be clear of the channel, so watch how you steer, "Ease her when she pitches, and so-long, my dear." DE WINDS e island, in the Spanish Seas, ouses and the orange-trees. le cool and pleasant breeze rj blowing. . . win^, the nutty Spanish ale, Tb, jioom blawolh^,.^fiJ^^,^x'§f^-jj?PI P^""^ .i^bnoY q'|^opf^,Xnoo8.,wofl bnA ,9nog zid ^uJ babnnu^bsi ariT '^la^uo:-^ Y/Qfl ripjfiv/ (?8 .^bnnBH^ ^o ifisb sd IISV/ '' .i&^bxm ,-gno[-oe bne .aarlDJiq aria nsrlv/ lad aafiS** An- An.. ... .... ^ .., , Of the quiet voice callin Of the stead S4 SEA-FEVER I MUST down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking. And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking. I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied ; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying. And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea- gulls crying. I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife ; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover. And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. 55 A WANDERER'S SONG A wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels, I am tired of brick and stone and rumbling wagon-wheels ; I hunger for the sea's edge, the limits of the land, Where the wild old Atlantic is shouting on the sand. Oh I'll be going, leaving the noises of the street. To where a lifting foresail-foot is yanking at the sheet ; To a windy, tossing anchorage where yawls and ketches ride, Oh ril be going, going, until I meet the tide. And first I'll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the gulls, The clucking, sucking of the sea about the rusty hulls. The songs at the capstan in the hooker warping out, And then the heart of me'll know I'm there or there- about. Oh I am tired of brick and stone, the heart of me is sick. For windy green, unquiet sea, the realm of Moby Dick ; And I'll be going, going, from the roaring of the wheels, For a wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels. 56 CARDIGAN BAY Clean, green, windy billows notching out the sky, Grey clouds tattered into rags, sea-winds blowing high. And the ships under topsails, beating, thrashing by. And the mewing of the herring gulls. Dancing, flashing green seas shaking white locks. Boiling in blind eddies over hidden rocks. And the wind in the rigging, the creaking of the blocks, And the straining of the timber hulls. Delicate, cool sea-weeds, green and amber-brown. In beds where shaken sunlight slowly filters down On many a drowned seventy-four, many a sunken town. And the whitening of the dead men's skulls. 57 CHRISTMAS EVE AT SEA A WIND Is rustling 'south and soft/ Cooing a quiet country tune, The calm sea sighs, and far aloft The sails are ghostly in the moon. Unquiet ripples lisp and purr, A block there pipes and chirps i' the sheave, The wheel-ropes jar, the reef-points stir Faintly — and it is Christmas Eve. The hushed sea seems to hold her breath, And o'er the giddy, swaying spars. Silent and excellent as Death, The dim blue skies are bright with stars. Dear God — they shone in Palestine Like this, and yon pale moon serene Looked down among the lowing kine On Mary and the Nazarene. The angels called from deep to deep. The burning heavens felt the thrill, Startling the flocks of silly sheep And lonely shepherds on the hill. 58 Out beyond the sunset, could I but find the way, Is a sleepy blue laguna which widens to a bay, And there's the Blessed City — so the sailors say The Golden City of St. Mary. T AT far aloft n the moon. 1.., . On Mary and the nrh"? ^.T^^'p^s cri!l^ fr CHRISTMAS EVE AT SEA 59 To-night beneath the dripping bows Where flashing bubbles burst and throng, The bow-wash murmurs and sighs and soughs A message from the angel's song. The moon goes nodding down the west, The drowsy helmsman strikes the bell ; Rex Judceorum natus est, I charge you, brothers, sing Nozvell, Nozvell, Rex Judceorum natus est. A BALLAD OF CAPE ST. VINCENT Now, Bill, ain't it prime to be a-sailin', Slippin' easy, splashin' up the sea, Dossin' snug aneath the weather-railin', Quiddin' bonded Jacky out a-lee ? English sea astern us and afore us, Reaching out three thousand miles ahead, God's own stars a-rlsln' solemn o'er us, And — yonder's Cape St. Vincent and the Dead. There they lie. Bill, man and mate together, Dreamin' out the dog-watch down below. Anchored in the Port of Pleasant Weather, Waiting for the Bo'sun's call to blow. Over them the tide goes lappln', swayin'. Under them's the wide bay's muddy bed. And It's pleasant dreams — to them — to hear us sayin*, Yonder's Cape St. Vincent and the Dead. Hear that P. and O. boat's engines dronin', Beating out of time and out of tune. Ripping past with every plate a-groanin', Spitting smoke and cinders at the moon ? Ports a-llt like little stars a-settin'. See 'em gllntin' yaller, green, and red, 60 A BALLAD OF CAPE ST. VINCENT 6i Loggin' twenty knots, Bill, — but forgettin', Yonder's Cape St. Vincent and the Dead. They're discharged' now, Billy, 'left the service,' Rough an' bitter was the watch they stood, Drake an' Blake, an' Collingwood an' Jervis, Nelson, Rodney, Hawke, an' Howe an' Hood. They'd a hard time, haulin' an' directin'. There's the flag they left us, Billy — tread Straight an' keep it flyin' — recoUectin', Yonder's Cape St. Vincent and the Dead. THE TARRY BUCCANEER I'm going to be a pirate with a bright brass pivot-gun, And an island in the Spanish Main beyond the setting sun, And a silver flagon full of red wine to drink when work is done, Like a fine old salt-sea scavenger, like a tarry Buc- caneer. With a sandy creek to careen in, and a pig-tailed Spanish mate, And under my main-hatches a sparkling merry freight Of doubloons and double moidores and pieces of eight, Like a fine old salt-sea scavenger, like a tarry Buc- caneer. With a taste for Spanish wine-shops and for spending my doubloons, And a crew of swart mulattoes and black-eyed octo- roons. And a thoughtful way with mutineers of making them maroons, Like a fine old salt-sea scavenger, like a tarry Buc- caneer. 62 THE TARRY BUCCANEER 63 With a sash of crimson velvet and a diamond-hilted sword, And a silver whistle about my neck secured to a golden cord, And a habit of taking captives and walking them along a board, Like a fine old salt-sea scavenger, like a tarry Buc- caneer. With a spy-glass tucked beneath my arm and a cocked hat cocked askew, And a long low rakish schooner a-cutting of the waves in two, And a flag of skull and cross-bones the wickedest that ever flew, Like a fine old salt-sea scavenger, like a tarry Buc- caneer. A BALLAD OF JOHN SILVER We were schooner-rigged and rakish, with a long and lissome hull, And we flew the pretty colours of the cross-bones and the skull ; We'd a big black Jolly Roger flapping grimly at the fore, And we sailed the Spanish Water in the happy days of yore. We'd a long brass gun amidships, like a well-conducted ship. We had each a brace of pistols and a cutlass at the hip ; It's a point which tells against us, and a fact to be deplored, But we chased the goodly merchant-men and laid their ships aboard. Then the dead men fouled the scuppers and the wounded filled the chains. And the paint-work all was spatter-dashed with other people's brains, She was boarded, she was looted, she was scuttled till she sank, And the pale survivors left us by the medium of the plank. 64 A BALLAD OF JOHN SILVER 65 O ! then it was (while standing by the tafFrail on the poop) We could hear the drowning folk lament the absent chicken-coop ; Then, having washed the blood away, we'd little else to do Than to dance a quiet hornpipe as the old salts taught us to. O ! the fiddle on the fo'c's'le, and the slapping naked soles, And the genial *Down the middle, Jake, and curtsey when she rolls !' With the silver seas around us and the pale moon over- head. And the look-out not a-looking and his pipe-bowl glowing red. Ah ! the pig-tailed, quidding pirates and the pretty pranks we played. All have since been put a stop-to by the naughty Board of Trade ; The schooners and the merry crews are laid away to rest, A little south the sunset in the Islands of the Blest. LYRICS FROM 'THE BUCCANEER = We are far from sight of the harbour lights, Of the sea-ports whence we came, But the old sea calls and the cold wind bites. And our hearts are turned to flame. And merry and rich is the goodly gear We'll win upon the tossing sea, A silken gown for my dainty dear, And a gold doubloon for me. It's the old old road and the old old quest Of the cut-throat sons of Cain, South by west and a quarter west. And hey for the Spanish Main. II There's a sea-way somewhere where all day long Is the hushed susurrus of the sea. The mewing of the skuas, and the sailor's song. And the wind's cry calling me. There's a haven somewhere where the quiet of the bay Is troubled with the shifting tide, 66 LYRICS FROM 'THE BUCCANEER' 67 Where the gulls are flying, crying in the bright white spray, And the tan-sailed schooners ride. Ill The toppling rollers at the harbour mouth Are spattering the bows with foam, And the anchor's catted, and she's heading for the south With her topsails sheeted home. And a merry measure is the dance she'll tread (To the clanking of the staysail's hanks) When the guns are growling and the blood runs red, And the prisoners are walking of the planks. D'AVALOS' PRAYER When the last sea is sailed and the last shallow charted, When the last field is reaped and the last harvest stored, When the last fire is out and the last guest departed, Grant the last prayer that I shall pray, Be good to me, Lord ! And let me pass in a night at sea, a night of storm and thunder, In the loud crying of the wind through sail and rope and spar; Send me a ninth great peaceful wave to drown and roll me under To the cold tunny-fishes' home where the drowned galleons are. And in the dim green quiet place far out of sight and hearing, Grant I may hear at whiles the wash and thresh of the sea-foam About the fine keen bows of the stately clippers steering Towards the lone northern star and the fair ports of home. 68 SEA PICTURES FROM PHILIP THE KING Messenger We were to ship the troops in Calais Road ; They lay encamped, prepared to go aboard. To windward still the English fleet abode — Still as in port when peace has been restored. The wind and sea were fair, We lay at anchor there ; The stars burned in the air, The men were sleeping, When in the midnight dark Our watchman saw a spark Suddenly light a bark With long flames leaping. Then, as they stood amazed, Others and others blazed ; Then terror set them crazed. They ran down screaming : "Fire-ships are coming ! Wake ! Cast loose, for Jesus' sake ! Eight fire-ships come from Drake — Look at their gleaming 1" 71 72 SEA PICTURES Roused in the dark from bed, We saw the fire show red, And instant panic spread Through troops and sailors ; They swarmed on deck unclad, They did what terror bade, King, they were like the mad Escaped from jailers. Some prayed for mercy, some Rang bells or beat the drum. As though despair had come At hell's contriving; Captains with terror pale Screamed through the dark their hail, "Cut cable, loose the sail, And set all driving!" Heading all ways at once, Grinding each other's guns. Our blundering galleons Athwart-hawse galleys. Timbers and plankings cleft. And half our tackling reft, Your grand Armada left The roads of Calais. Weary and overwrought We strove to make all taut; But when the morning brought SEA PICTURES 73 The dawn to light us, Drake, with the weather gage, Made signal to engage, And, like a pard in rage. Bore down to fight us. Nobly the English line Trampled the bubbled brine; We heard the gun-trucks whine To the taut laniard. Onwards we saw them forge, White billowing at the gorge. "On, on !" they cried, "St. George! Down with the Spaniard !" From their van squadron broke A withering battle-stroke, Tearing our planked oak By straiks asunder, Blasting the wood like rot With such a hail of shot. So constant and so hot It beat us under. The English would not close ; They fought us as they chose. Dealing us deadly blows For seven hours. 74 SEA PICTURES Lords of our chiefest rank The bitter billow drank, For there the English sank Three ships of ours. Then the wind forced us northward from the fight; We could not ship the army nor return ; We held the sea in trouble through the night, Watching the English signals blink and burn. The English in a dim cloud kept astern ; All night they signalled, while our shattered ships Huddled like beasts beneath the drovers' whips. At dawn the same wind held ; we could not strive. The English drove us north as herdsmen drive. Under our tattered flags, With rigging cut to rags. Our ships like stricken stags Were heaped and hounded. Caught by the unknown tide. With neither chart nor guide. We fouled the Holland side. Where four more grounded. SEA PICTURES 75 Our water-casks were burst, The horses died of thirst, The wounded raved and curst, Uncared, untended. All night we heard the crying Of lonely shipmates dying ; We had to leave them lying. So the fight ended. Philip God gives His victory as He wills. But this Was not complete destruction. What thing worse Came to destroy you ? Messenger An avenging curse, Due for old sins, destroyed us. Philip Tell the tale. Messenger O King, when morning dawned it blew a gale, But still the English followed, and we fled Till breakers made the dirty waters pale. We saw the Zealand sandbanks right ahead, Blind in a whirling spray that gave us dread ; For we were blown there, and the water shoaled. The crying of the leadsmen at the lead. Calling the soundings, were our deathbells tolled. 76 SEA PICTURES We drifted down to death upon the sands — The English drew away to watch us drown ; We saw the bitter breakers with grey hands Tear the dead body of the sandbank brown. We could do nothing, so we drifted down Singing the psalms for death — we who had been Lords of the sea and knights of great renown, Doomed to be strangled by a death unclean. Philip So there the ships were wrecked ^ Messenger Time had not struck. O King, we learned how blessed mercy saves : Even as our forefoot grounded on the muck, Tripping us up to drown us in the waves, A sudden windshift snatched us from our graves And drove us north ; and now another woe, Tempest unending, beat our ships to staves — A never-dying gale with frost and snow. Now our hearts failed, for food and water failed ; The men fell sick by troops, the wounded died. They washed about the wet decks as we sailed For want of strength to lift them overside. Desolate seas we sailed, so grim, so wide. That ship by ship our comrades disappeared. With neither sun nor star to be a guide. Like spirits of the wretched dead we steered. SEA PICTURES 77 Till, having beaten through the Pentland Pass, We saw the Irish surf, with mists of spray Blowing far inland, blasting trees and grass, And gave God thanks, for we espied a bay Safe, with bright water running down the clay — A running brook where we could drink and drink. But drawing near, our ships were cast away. Bilged on the rocks ; we saw our comrades sink . . . Or worse : for those the breakers cast ashore The Irish killed and stripped ; their bodies white Lay naked to the wolves — yea, sixty score — All down the windy beach, a piteous sight. The savage Irish watched by bonfire light Lest more should come ashore ; we heard them there Screaming the bloody news of their delight. Then we abandoned hope and new despair. And now the fleet is sunken in the sea, And all the seamen, all the might of Spain, Are dead, O King, and out of misery, Never to drag at frozen ropes again — Never to know defeat, nor feel the pain Of watching dear companions sink and die. Death's everlasting armistice to the brain Gives their poor griefs quietus ; let them lie. I, like a ghost returning from the grave, Come from a stricken ship to tell the news Of Spanish honour which we could not save, 78 SEA PICTURES Nor win again, nor even die to lose ; And since God's hidden wisdom loves to bruise Those whom He loves, we, trembling in despair. Will watch our griefs to see God's finger there, And make His will our solace and excuse. Defeat is bitter and the truth is hard — Spain is defeated, England has prevailed ; This is the banner which I could not guard. And this the consecrated sword which failed. Do with your dying Captain as you will. FROM DAUBER Four bells were struck, the watch was called on deck, All work aboard was over for the hour, And some men sang and others played at check. Or mended clothes or watched the sunset glower. The bursting west was like an opening flower. And one man watched it till the light was dim, But no one went across to talk to him. He was the painter in that swift ship's crew, Lampman and painter — tall, a slight-built man, Young for his years, and not yet twenty-two ; Sickly, and not yet brown with the sea's tan. Bullied and damned at since the voyage began, "Being neither man nor seaman by his tally," He bunked with the idlers just abaft the galley. His work began at five ; he worked all day. Keeping no watch and having all night in. His work was what the mate might care to say ; He mixed red lead in many a bouilli tin ; His dungarees were smeared with parafllin. "Go drown himself" his round-house mates advised him. And all hands called him "Dauber" and despised him. 79 8o SEA PICTURES Si, the apprentice, stood beside the spar. Stripped to the waist, a basin at his side, Slushing his hands to get away the tar. And then he washed himself and rinsed and dried ; Towelling his face, hair-towzelled, eager eyed. He crossed the spar to Dauber, and there stood Watching the gold of heaven turn to blood. They stood there by the rail while the swift ship Tore on out of the tropics, straining her sheets. Whitening her trackway to a milky strip. Dim with green bubbles and twisted water meets. Her clacking tackle tugged at pins and cleats, Her great sails bellied stiff, her great masts leaned : They watched how the seas struck and burst and greened. Si talked with Dauber, standing by the side. "Why did you come to sea, painter?" he said. "I want to be a painter," he replied, "And know the sea and ships from A to Z, And paint great ships at sea before Pm dead ; Ships under skysails running down the Trade — Ships and the sea ; there's nothing finer made. "But there's so much to learn, with sails and ropes, And how the sails look, full or being furled. And how the lights change in the troughs and slopes, And the sea's colours up and down the world. And how a storm looks when the sprays are hurled The bursting west was like an opening flower, And one man watched it till the light was dim. i3woft §nin,9qo HB ^^il z^w je^w §nfmirtf ^HT SEA PICTURES 8i High as the yard (they say) I want to see ; There's none ashore can teach such things to me. "And then the men and rigging, and the way Ships move, running or beating, and the poise At the roll's end, the checking in the sway — I want to paint them perfect, short of the noise ; And then the life, the half-decks full of boys, The fo'c'sles with the men there, dripping wet : I know the subjects that I want to get. "It's not been done, the sea, not yet been done, From the inside, by one who really knows ; I'd give up all if I could be the one, But art comes dear the way the money goes. So I have come to sea, and I suppose Three years will teach me all I want to learn And make enough to keep me till I earn." Even as he spoke his busy pencil moved. Drawing the leap of water off the side Where the great clipper trampled iron-hooved, Making the blue hills of the sea divide. Shearing a glittering scatter in her stride. And leaping on full tilt with all sails drawing, Proud as a war-horse, snufhng battle, pawing. " I cannot get it yet — not yet," he said ; "That leap and light, and sudden change to green, G 82 SEA PICTURES And all the glittering from the sunset's red, And the milky colours where the bursts have been, And then the clipper striding like a queen Over it all, all beauty to the crown. I see it all, I cannot put it down. "It's hard not to be able. There, look there! I cannot get the movement nor the light; Sometimes it almost makes a man despair To try and try and never get it right. Oh, if I could — oh, if I only might, I wouldn't mind what hells I'd have to pass, Not if the whole world called me fool and ass." Down sank the crimson sun into the sea, The wind cut chill at once, the west grew dun. "Out sidelights!" called the mate. "Hi, where is he?" The Boatswain called, "Out sidelights, damn you! Run!" "He's always late or lazing," murmured one — "The Dauber, with his sketching." Soon the tints Of red and green passed on dark water-glints. Darker it grew, still darker, and the stars Burned golden, and the fiery fishes came. The wire-note loudened from the straining spars ; The sheet-blocks clacked together always the same; The rushing fishes streaked the seas with flame, Racing the one speed noble as their own : What unknown joy was in those fish unknown 1 SEA PICTURES 83 Just by the round-house door, as it grew dark, The Boatswain caught the Dauber with, *'Now, you; Till now I've spared you, damn you ! now you hark : I've just had hell for what you didn't do ; I'll have you broke and sent among the crew If you get me more trouble by a particle. Don't you forget, you daubing, useless article ! "You thing, you twice-laid thing from Port Mahon!" Then came the Cook's "Is that the Dauber there? Why don't you leave them stinking paints alone ? They stink the house out, poisoning all the air. Just take them out." "Where to.?" "I don't care where. I won't have stinking paint here." From their plates : "That's right ; wet paint breeds fever," growled his mates. He took his still wet drawings from the berth And climbed the ladder to the deck-house top ; Beneath, the noisy half-deck rang with mirth. For two ship's boys were putting on the strop : One, clambering up to let the skylight drop. Saw him bend down beneath a boat and lay His drawings there, till all were hid away. And stand there silent, leaning on the boat. Watching the constellations rise and burn. Until the beauty took him by the throat. So stately is their glittering overturn ; Armies of marching eyes, armies that yearn 84 SEA PICTURES With banners rising and falling, and passing by Over the empty silence of the sky. The Dauber sighed there looking at the sails, Wind-steadied arches leaning on the night, The high trucks traced on heaven and left no trails ; The moonlight made the topsails almost white, The passing sidelight seemed to drip green light. And on the clipper rushed with fire-bright bows ; He sighed, "I'll never do't," and left the house. "Now," said the reefer, "up! Come, Sam; come. Si, Dauber's been hiding something." Up they slid, Treading on naked tiptoe stealthily To grope for treasure at the long-boat skid. "Drawings !" said Sam. "Is this what Dauber hid ? Lord ! I expected pudding, not this rot. Still, come, we'll have some fun with what we've got.' They smeared the paint with turpentine until They could remove with mess-clouts every trace Of quick perception caught by patient skill, And lines that had brought blood into his face. They wiped the pigments off, and did erase. With knives, all sticking clots. When they had done. Under the boat they laid them every one. All he had drawn since first he came to sea. His six weeks' leisure fruits, they laid them there. SEA PICTURES 85 They chuckled then to think how mad he'd be Finding his paintings vanished into air. Eight bells were struck, and feet from everywhere Went shuffling aft to muster in the dark ; The mate's pipe glowed above, a dim red spark. Names in the darkness passed and voices cried ; The red spark glowed and died, the faces seemed As things remembered when a brain has died, To all but high intenseness deeply dreamed. Like hissing spears the fishes' fire streamed. And on the clipper rushed with tossing mast, A bath of flame broke round her as she passed. The watch was set, the night came, and the men Hid from the moon in shadowed nooks to sleep. Bunched like the dead ; still, like the dead, as when Plague in a city leaves none even to weep. The ship's track brightened to a mile-broad sweep ; The mate there felt her pulse, and eyed the spars : South-west by south she staggered under the stars. Down in his bunk the Dauber lay awake Thinking of his unfitness for the sea. Each failure, each derision, each mistake. There in the life not made for such as he ; A morning grim with trouble sure to be, A noon of pain from failure, and a night Bitter with men's contemning and despite. 86 SEA PICTURES This In the first beginning, the green leaf, Still in the Trades before bad weather fell ; What harvest would he reap of hate and grief When the loud Horn made every life a hell ? When the sick ship lay over, clanging her bell, And no time came for painting or for drawing, But all hands fought, and icy death came clawing ? Hell, he expected, — hell. His eyes grew blind ; The snoring from his messmates droned and snuffled, And then a gush of pity calmed his mind. The cruel torment of his thought was muffled. Without, on deck, an old, old seaman shuffled, Humming his song, and through the open door A moonbeam moved and thrust along the floor. The green bunk curtains moved, the brass rings clicked, The Cook cursed in his sleep, turning and turning. The moonbeams' moving finger touched and picked, And all the stars In all the sky were burning. *'ThIs is the art I've come for, and am learning, The sea and ships and men and travelling things. It is most proud, whatever pain it brings." He leaned upon his arm and watched the light Sliding and fading to the steady roll ; This he would some day paint, the ship at night. And sleeping seamen tired to the soul ; The space below the bunks as black as coal, SEA PICTURES 87 Gleams upon chests, upon the unlit lamp, The ranging door hook, and the locker clamp. This he would paint, and that, and all these scenes, And proud ships carrying on, and men their minds,* And blues of rollers toppling into greens, And shattering into white that bursts and blinds. And scattering ships running erect like hinds, And men in oilskins beating down a sail High on the yellow yard, in snow, in hail. With faces ducked down from the slanting drive Of half-thawed hail mixed with half-frozen spray. The roaring canvas like a thing alive. Shaking the mast, knocking their hands away. The foot-ropes jerking to the tug and sway. The savage eyes salt-reddened at the rims. And icicles on the south-wester brims. And sunnier scenes would grow under his brush. The tropic dawn with all things dropping dew, The darkness and the wonder and the hush. The insensate grey before the marvel grew ; Then the veil lifted from the trembling blue. The walls of sky burst in, the flower, the rose. All the expanse of heaven a mind that glows. He turned out of his bunk ; the Cook still tossed, One of the other two spoke in his sleep. 88 SEA PICTURES A cockroach scuttled where the moonbeam crossed ; Outside there was the ship, the night, the deep. "It is worth while," the youth said; "I will keep To my resolve, I'll learn to paint all this. My Lord, my God, how beautiful it is !" Outside was the ship's rush to the wind's hurry, A resonant wire-hum from every rope. The broadening bow-wash in a fiery flurry, The leaning masts in their majestic slope, And all things strange with moonlight : filled with hope By all that beauty going as man bade, He turned and slept in peace. Eight bells were made. That night the snow fell between six and seven, A little feathery fall so light, so dry — An aimless dust out of a confused heaven, Upon an air no steadier than a sigh ; The powder dusted down and wandered by So purposeless, so many, and so cold. Then died, and the wind ceased and the ship rolled. Rolled till she clanged — rolled till the brain was tired, Marking the acme of the heaves, the pause While the sea-beauty rested and respired. Drinking great draughts of roller at her hawse. Flutters of snow came aimless upon flaws. "Lock up your paints," the Mate said, speaking light: "This is the Horn; you'll join my watch to-night.'" SEA PICTURES 89 All through the windless night the clipper rolled In a great swell with oily gradual heaves Which rolled her down until her time-bells tolled, Clang, and the weltering water moaned like beeves. The thundering rattle of slatting shook the sheaves, Startles of water made the swing ports gush, The sea was moaning and sighing and saying "Hush!" It was all black and starless. Peering down Into the water, trying to pierce the gloom. One saw a dim, smooth, oily glitter of brown Heaving and dying away and leaving room For yet another. Like the march of doom Came those great powers of marching silences ; Then fog came down, dead-cold, and hid the seas. They set the Dauber to the foghorn. There He stood upon the poop, making to sound Out of the pump the sailor's nasal blare. Listening lest ice should make the note resound. She bayed there like a solitary hound Lost in a covert; all the watch she bayed. The fog, come closelier down, no answer made. Denser it grew, until the ship was lost. The elemental hid her ; she was merged In mufflings of dark death, like a man's ghost. New to the change of death, yet thither urged. Then from the hidden waters something surged — 90 SEA PICTURES Mournful, despairing, great, greater than speech, A noise like one slow wave on a still beach. Mournful, and then again mournful, and still Out of the night that mighty voice arose; The Dauber at his foghorn felt the thrill. Who rode that desolate sea ? What forms were those ? Mournful, from things defeated, in the throes Of memory of some conquered hunting-ground. Out of the night of death arose the sound. *' Whales!" said the Mate. They stayed there all night long Answering the horn. Out of the night they spoke, Defeated creatures who had suffered wrong. But were still noble underneath the stroke. They filled the darkness when the Dauber woke; The men came peering to the rail to hear, And the sea sighed, and the fog rose up sheer. A wall of nothing at the world's last edge, Where no life came except defeated life. The Dauber felt shut in within a hedge. Behind which form was hidden and thought was rife, And that a blinding flash, a thrust, a knife Would sweep the hedge away and make all plain, Brilliant beyond all words, blinding the brain. So the night passed, but then no morning broke — Only a something showed that night was dead. So the night passed, but then no morning broke Only a something showed that night was dead. iiting-grouiia, laO t night SEA PICTURES 91 A sea-bird, cackling like a devil, spoke, And the fog drew away and hung like lead. Like mighty cliffs It shaped, sullen and red ; Like glowering gods at watch It did appear. And sometimes drew away, and then drew near. Like Islands, and like chasms, and like hell. But always mighty and red, gloomy and ruddy. Shutting the visible sea In like a well ; Slow heaving In vast ripples, blank and muddy. Where the sun should have risen It streaked bloody. The day was still-born ; all the sea-fowl scattering Splashed the still water, mewing, hovering, clattering. Then Polar snow came down little and light, Till all the sky was hidden by the small. Most multitudinous drift of dirty white Tumbling and wavering down and covering all — Covering the sky, the sea, the clipper tall, Furring the ropes with white, casing the mast, Coming on no known air, but blowing past. And all the air seemed full of gradual moan. As though In those cloud-chasms the horns were blowing The mort for gods cast out and overthrown, Or for the eyeless sun plucked out and going. Slow the low gradual moan came in the snowing; The Dauber felt the prelude had begun. The snowstorm fluttered by ; he saw the sun 92 SEA PICTURES Show and pass by, gleam from one towering prison Into another, vaster and more grim, Which in dull crags of darkness had arisen To muffle-to a final door on him. The gods upon the dull crags lowered dim, The pigeons chattered, quarrelling in the track. In the south-west the dimness dulled to black. Then came the cry of "Call all hands on deck!" The Dauber knew its meaning; it was come : Cape Horn, that tramples beauty into wreck. And crumples steel and smites the strong man dumb. Down clattered flying kites and staysails : some Sang out in quick, high calls : the fair-leads skirled And from the south-west came the end of the world. "Caught in her ball-dress," said the Bosun, hauling; "Lee-ay, lee-ay!" quick, high, came the men's call; It was all wallop of sails and startled calling. "Let fly!" "Let go!" "Clew up!" and "Let go all!" "Now up and make them fast !" "Here, give us a haul !" "Now up and stow them ! Quick! By God ! we're done !" The blackness crunched all memory of the sun. "Up!" said the Mate. " Mizzen top-gallants. Hurry!" The Dauber ran, the others ran, the sails Slatted and shook ; out of the black a flurry Whirled in fine lines, tattering the edge to trails. SEA PICTURES 93 Painting and art and England were old tales Told in some other life to that pale man, Who struggled with white fear and gulped and ran. He struck a ringbolt in his haste and fell — Rose, sick with pain, half-lamed in his left knee ; He reached the shrouds where clambering men pell-mell Hustled each other up and cursed him ; he Hurried aloft with them : then from the sea Came a cold, sudden breath that made the hair Stiff on the neck, as though Death whispered there. A man below him punched him in the side. "Get up, you Dauber, or let me get past.'* He saw the belly of the skysail skied. Gulped, and clutched tight, and tried to go more fast. Sometimes he missed his ratline and was grassed. Scraped his shin raw against the rigid line. The clamberers reached the futtock-shrouds' Incline. Cursing they came ; one, kicking out behind, Kicked Dauber in the mouth, and one below Punched at his calves ; the futtock-shrouds inclined. It was a perilous path for one to go. "Up, Dauber, up !" A curse followed a blow. He reached the top and gasped, then on, then on. And one voice yelled "Let go !" and one "All gone !" Fierce clamberers, some in oilskins, some in rags, Hustling and hurrying up, up the steep stairs. 94 SEA PICTURES Before the windless sails were blown to flags, And whirled like dirty birds athwart great airs, Ten men in all, to get this mast of theirs Snugged to the gale in time. "Up ! Damn you, run !' The mizzen topmast head was safely won. "Lay out!" the Bosun yelled. The Dauber laid Out on the yard, gripping the yard, and feeling Sick at the mighty space of air displayed Below his feet, where mewing birds were wheeling. A giddy fear was on him ; he was reeling. He bit his lip half through, clutching the jack. A cold sweat glued the shirt upon his back. The yard was shaking, for a brace was loose. He felt that he would fall ; he clutched, he bent, Clammy with natural terror to the shoes While idiotic promptings came and went. Snow fluttered on a wind-flaw and was spent ; He saw the water darken. Someone yelled, "Frap it; don't stay to furl ! Hold on !" He held. Darkness came down — half darkness — in a whirl ; The sky went out, the waters disappeared. He felt a shocking pressure of blowing hurl The ship upon her side. The darkness speared At her with wind ; she staggered, she careered, Then down she lay. The Dauber felt her go ; He saw his yard tilt downwards. Then the snow SEA PICTURES 95 Whirled all about — dense, multitudinous, cold — Mixed with the wind's one devilish thrust and shriek, Which whiffled out men's tears, deafened, took hold. Flattening the flying drift against the cheek. The yards buckled and bent, man could not speak. The ship lay on her broadside; the wind's sound Had devilish malice at having got her downed. How long the gale had blown he could not tell, Only the world had changed, his life had died. A moment now was everlasting hell. Nature an onslaught from the weather side, A withering rush of death, a frost that cried, Shrieked, till he withered at the heart; a hail Plastered his oilskins with an icy mail. *'Cut!" yelled his mate. He looked — the sail was gone. Blown into rags in the first furious squall ; The tatters drummed the devil's tattoo. On The buckling yard a block thumped like a mall. The ship lay — the sea smote her, the wind's bawl Came, "loo, loo, loo!" The devil cried his hounds On to the poor spent stag strayed in his bounds. "Cut! Ease her!" yelled his mate; the Dauber heard. His mate wormed up the tilted yard and slashed, A rag of canvas skimmed like a darting bird. 96 SEA PICTURES The snow whirled, the ship bowed to It, the gear lashed, The sea-tops were cut off and flung down smashed ; Tatters of shouts were flung, the rags of yells — And clang, clang, clang, below beat the two bells. "O God !" the Dauber moaned. A roaring rang, Blasting the royals like a cannonade ; The backstays parted with a cracking clang. The upper spars were snapped like twigs decayed — Snapped at their heels, their jagged splinters splayed. Like white and ghastly hair erect with fear. The Mate yelled, "Gone, by God, and pitched them clear!" " Up ! " yelled the Bosun ; " up and clear the wreck ! " The Dauber followed where he led : below He caught one giddy glimpsing of the deck Filled with white water, as though heaped with snow. He saw the streamers of the rigging blow Straight out like pennons from the splintered mast, Then, all sense dimmed, all was an icy blast Roaring from nether hell and filled with ice. Roaring and crashing on the jerking stage, An utter bridle given to utter vice. Limitless power mad with endless rage Withering the soul ; a minute seemed an age. He clutched and hacked at ropes, at rags of sail. Thinking that comfort was a fairy-tale SEA PICTURES 97 Told long ago — long, long ago — long since Heard of in other lives — imagined, dreamed — There where the basest beggar was a prince To him in torment where the tempest screamed, Comfort and warmth and ease no longer seemed Things that a man could know : soul, body, brain, Knew nothing but the wind, the cold, the pain. "Leave that!" the Bosun shouted; "Crojick save!" The splitting crojick, not yet gone to rags, Thundered below, beating till something gave, Bellying between its buntlines into bags. Some birds were blown past, shrieking : dark, like shags, Their backs seemed, looking down. "Leu, leu!" they cried. The ship lay, the seas thumped her ; she had died. They reached the crojick yard, which buckled, buckled Like a thin whalebone to the topsail's strain. They laid upon the yard and heaved and knuckled, Pounding the sail, which jangled and leapt again. It was quite hard with ice, its rope like chain. Its strength like seven devils ; it shook the mast. They cursed and toiled and froze : a long time passed. Two hours passed, then a dim lightening came. Those frozen ones upon the yard could see The mainsail and the foresail still the same. 98 SEA PICTURES Still battling with the hands and blowing free, Rags tattered where the staysails used to be. The lower topsails stood ; the ship's lee deck Seethed with four feet of water filled with wreck. An hour more went by ; the Dauber lost All sense of hands and feet, all sense of all But of a wind that cut him to the ghost, And of a frozen fold he had to haul, Of heavens that fell and never ceased to fall. And ran in smoky snatches along the sea, Leaping from crest to wave-crest, yelling. He Lost sense of time ; no bells went, but he felt Ages go over him. At last, at last They frapped the cringled crojick's icy pelt; In frozen bulge and bunt they made it fast. Then, scarcely live, they laid in to the mast. The Captain's speaking trumpet gave a blare, *'Make fast the topsail. Mister, while you're there." Some seamen cursed, but up they had to go — - Up to the topsail yard to spend an hour Stowing a topsail in a blinding snow. Which made the strongest man among them cower. More men came up, the fresh hands gave them power. They stowed the sail ; then with a rattle of chain One half the crojick burst its bonds again. He struck, a ringbolt in his haste and fell — Rose, sick with pain, half-lamed in his left knee ; He reached the shrouds where clambering men pell-mell Hurried aloft with them : then from the sea Came a cold, sudden breath that made the hair Stiff on the neck, as though Death whispered there. SEA PICTURES 99 They stowed the sail, frapplng It round with rope, Leaving no surface for the wind, no fold, Then down the weather shrouds, half dead, they grope ; That struggle with the sail had made them old. They wondered if the crojick furl would hold. "Lucky," said one, "it didn't spring the spar." "Lucky!" the Bosun said, "Lucky! We are! She came within two shakes of turning top Or stripping all her shroud-screws, that first quiff. Now fish those wash-deck buckets out of the slop. Here's Dauber says he doesn't like Cape Stiff. This isn't wind, man, this is only a whiff. Hold on, all hands, hold on !" a sea, half seen. Paused, mounted, burst, and filled the main-deck green. The Dauber felt a mountain of water fall. It covered him deep, deep, he felt it fill. Over his head, the deck, the fife-rails, all. Quieting the ship, she trembled and lay still. Then with a rush and shatter and clanging shrill Over she went ; he saw the water cream Over the bitts ; he saw the half-deck stream. Then in the rush he swirled, over she went; Her lee-rail dipped, he struck, and something gave ; His legs went through a port as the roll spent ; She paused, then rolled, and back the water drave. lOO SEA PICTURES He drifted with it as a part of the wave, Drowning, half-stunned, exhausted, partly frozen. He struck the booby hatchway ; then the Bosun. Leaped, seeing his chance, before the next sea burst, And caught him as he drifted, seized him, held. Up-ended him against the bitts, and cursed. *'This ain't the George's Swimming Baths," he yelled; *'Keep on your feet!" Another grey-back felled The two together, and the Bose, half-blind. Spat: "One's a joke," he cursed, "but two's unkind." "Now, damn it, Dauber!" said the Mate. "Look out. Or you'll be over the side !" The water freed ; Each clanging freeing-port became a spout. The men cleared up the decks as there was need. The Dauber's head was cut, he felt it bleed Into his oilskins as he clutched and coiled. Water and sky were devils' brews which boiled, Boiled, shrieked, and glowered ; but the ship was saved. Snugged safely down, though fourteen sails were split. Out of the dark a fiercer fury raved. The grey-backs died and mounted, each crest lit With a white toppling gleam that hissed from it And slid, or leaped, or ran with whirls of cloud. Mad with inhuman life that shrieked aloud. The watch was called ; Dauber might go below. "Splice the main brace !" the Mate called. All laid aft SEA PICTURES loi To get a gulp of momentary glow As some reward for having saved the craft. The steward ladled mugs, from which each quaif'd Whisky, with water, sugar, and lime-juice, hot, A quarter of a pint each made the tot. Beside the lamp-room door the steward stood Ladling it out, and each man came in turn, Tipped his sou'-wester, drank it, grunted "Good !" And shambled forward, letting it slowly burn : When all were gone the Dauber lagged astern, Torn by his frozen body's lust for heat, The liquor's pleasant smell, so warm, so sweet, And by a promise long since made at home Never to taste strong liquor. Now he knew The worth of liquor ; now he wanted some. His frozen body urged him to the brew ; Yet it seemed wrong, an evil thing to do To break that promise. "Dauber," said the Mate, "Drink, and turn in, man; why the hell d'ye wait.^" " Please, sir, I'm temperance." " Temperance are you, hey ^ That's all the more for me ! So you're for slops .? I thought you'd had enough slops for to-day. Go to your bunk and ease her when she drops. And — damme, steward ! you brew with too much hops ! Stir up the sugar, man ! — and tell your girl How kind the Mate was teaching you to furl." 102 SEA PICTURES Then the Mate drank the remnants, six men's share And ramped into his cabin, where he stripped And danced unclad, and was uproarious there. In waltzes with the cabin cat he tripped, Singing in tenor clear that he was pipped — That "he who strove the tempest to disarm, Must never first embrail the lee yard-arm," And that his name was Ginger. Dauber crept Back to the round-house, gripping by the rail. The wind howled by; the passionate water leapt; The night was all one roaring with the gale. Then at the door he stopped, uttering a wail ; His hands were perished numb and blue as veins, He could not turn the knob for both the Spains. A hand came shuffling aft, dodging the seas. Singing "her nut-brown hair" between his teeth; Taking the ocean's tumult at his ease Even when the wash about his thighs did seethe. His soul was happy in its happy sheath ; "What, Dauber, won't it open ? Fingers cold .? You'll talk of this time, Dauber, when you're old." He flung the door half open, and a sea Washed them both in, over the splash-board, down ; "You silly, salt miscarriage!" sputtered he. "Dauber, pull out the plug before we drown ! That's spoiled my laces and my velvet gown. SEA PICTURES 103 Where is the plug ?" Groping in pitch dark water, He sang between his teeth "The Farmer's Daughter." It was pitch dark within there ; at each roll The chests slid to the slant ; the water rushed, Making full many a clanging tin pan bowl Into the black below-bunks as it gushed. The dog-tired men slept through it; they were hushed. The water drained, and then with matches damp The man struck heads oflF till he lit the lamp. "Thank you," the Dauber said; the seaman grinned. "This is your first foul weather?" "Yes." "I thought Up on the yard you hadn't seen much wind. Them's rotten sea-boots. Dauber, that you brought. Now I must cut on deck before I'm caught." He went ; the lamp-flame smoked ; he slammed the door ; A film of water loitered across the floor. The Dauber watched it come and watched it go ; He had had revelation of the lies Cloaking the truth men never choose to know ; He could bear witness now and cleanse their eyes. He had beheld in suffering ; he was wise ; This was the sea, this searcher of the soul — This never-dying shriek fresh from the Pole. He shook with cold ; his hands could not undo His oilskin buttons, so he shook and sat. 104 SEA PICTURES Watching his dirty fingers, dirty blue, Hearing without the hammering tackle slat, Within, the drops from dripping clothes went pat, Running in little patters, gentle, sweet, And *'Ai, ai !" went the wind, and the seas beat. His bunk was sopping wet ; he clambered in. None of his clothes were dry ; his fear recurred. Cramps bunched the muscles underneath his skin. The great ship rolled until the lamp was blurred. He took his Bible and tried to read a word ; Trembled at going aloft again, and then Resolved to fight it out and show it to men. Faces recurred, fierce memories of the yard. The frozen sail, the savage eyes, the jests. The oaths of one great seaman, syphilis-scarred, The tug of leeches jammed beneath their chests, The buntlines bellying bunts out into breasts. The deck so desolate-grey, the sky so wild, He fell asleep, and slept like a young child. But not for long ; the cold awoke him soon. The hot-ache and the skin-cracks and the cramp, The seas thundering without, the gale's wild tune, The sopping misery of the blankets damp. A speaking-trumpet roared ; a sea-boot's stamp Clogged at the door. A man entered to shout : "All hands on deck 1 Arouse here ! Tumble out ! SEA PICTURES 105 The caller raised the lamp ; his oilskins clicked As the thin ice upon them cracked and fell. "Rouse out!" he said. "This lamp is frozen wick'd. Rouse out!" His accent deepened to a yell. "We're among ice; it's blowing up like hell. We're going to hand both topsails. Time, I guess, We're sheeted up. Rouse out! Don't stay to dress!" "Is it cold on deck .?" said Dauber. "Is it cold ? We're sheeted up, I tell you, inches thick ! The fo'c'sle's like a wedding-cake, I'm told. Now tumble out, my sons ; on deck here, quick ! Rouse out, away, and come and climb the stick. I'm going to call the half-deck. Bosun ! Hey ! Both topsails coming in. Heave out! Away!" He went; the Dauber tumbled from his bunk. Clutching the side. He heard the wind go past, Making the great ship wallow as if drunk. There was a shocking tumult up the mast. "This is the end," he muttered, "come at last! I've got to go aloft, facing this cold. I can't. I can't. I'll never keep my hold. "I cannot face the topsail yard again. I never guessed what misery it would be." The cramps and hot-ache made him sick with pain. The ship stopped suddenly from a devilish sea, Then, with a triumph of wash, a rush of glee, io6 SEA PICTURES The door burst in, and In the water rolled, Filling the lower bunks, black, creaming, cold. The lamp sucked out. "Wash !" went the water back, Then in again, flooding ; the Bosun swore. "You useless thing 1 You Dauber! You lee slack! Get out, you heekapoota ! Shut the door ! You coo-ilyaira, what are you waiting for ? Out of my way, you thing — you useless thing !" He slammed the door indignant, clanging the ring. And then he lit the lamp, drowned to the waist ; "Here's a fine house ! Get at the scupper-holes" — He bent against it as the water raced — "And pull them out to leeward when she rolls. They say some kinds of landsmen don't have souls. I well believe. A Port Mahon baboon Would make more soul than you got with a spoon." Down in the icy water Dauber groped To find the plug ; the racing water sluiced Over his head and shoulders as she sloped. Without, judged by the sound, all hell was loosed. He felt cold Death about him tightly noosed. That Death was better than the misery there Iced on the quaking foothold high in air. And then the thought came : "I'm a failure. All My life has been a failure. They were right. SEA PICTURES 107 It will not matter if I go and fall ; I should be free then from this hell's delight. I'll never paint. Best let it end to-night. I'll slip over the side. I've tried and failed." So in the ice-cold in the night he quailed. Death would be better, death, than this long hell Of mockery and surrender and dismay — This long defeat of doing nothing well, Playing the part too high for him to play. *'0 Death ! who hides the sorry thing away, Take me; I've failed. I cannot play these cards." There came a thundering from the topsail yards. And then he bit his lips, clenching his mind, And staggered out to muster, beating back The coward frozen self of him that whined. Come what cards might he meant to play the pack. "Ai!" screamed the wind; the topsail sheet went clack; Ice filled the air with spikes ; the greybacks burst. "Here's Dauber," said the Mate, "on deck the first. "Why, holy sailor. Dauber, you're a man! I took you for a soldier. Up now, come!" Up on the yards already they began That battle with a gale which strikes men dumb. The leaping topsail thundered like a drum. The frozen snow beat in the face like shots. The wind spun whipping wave-crests into clots. io8 SEA PICTURES So up upon the topsail yard again, In the great tempest's fiercest hour, began Probation to the Dauber's soul, of pain Which crowds a century's torment in a span. For the next month the ocean taught this man. And he, in that month's torment, while she wested, Was never warm nor dry, nor full nor rested. But still it blew, or, if it lulled, it rose Within the hour and blew again ; and still The water as it burst aboard her froze. The wind blew off an Ice-field, raw and chill. Daunting man's body, tampering with his will ; But after thirty days a ghostly sun Gave sickly promise that the storms were done. The Captain eyed her aft, sucking his lip. Feeling the sail too much, but yet refraining From putting hobbles on the leaping ship. The glad sea-shattering stallion, halter-straining, Wing-musical, uproarious, and complaining; But, in a gust, he cocked his finger, so : "You'd better take them off, before they go." All saw. They ran at once without the word "Lee-ay! Lee-ay!" Loud rang the clewline cries; Sam in his bunk within the half-deck heard. Stirred In his sleep, and rubbed his drowsy eyes. SEA PICTURES 109 "There go the lower to 'gallants." Against the skies Rose the thin bellying strips of leaping sail. The Dauber was the first man over the rail. Three to a mast they ran ; it was a race. "God !" said the Mate; "that Dauber, he can go." He watched the runners with an upturned face Over the futtocks, struggling heel to toe, Up to the topmast cross-trees into the blow Where the three sails were leaping. "Dauber wins !" The yards were reached, and now the race begins. Which three will furl their sail first and come down ? Out to the yard-arm for the leech goes one, His hair blown flagwise from a hatless crown, His hands at work like fever to be done. Out of the gale a fiercer fury spun. The three sails leaped together, yanking high, Like talons darting up to clutch the sky. The Dauber on the fore-topgallant yard Out at the weather yard-arm was the first To lay his hand upon the buntline-barred Topgallant yanking to the westerns burst ; He craned to catch the leech ; his comrades cursed ; One at the buntlines, one with oaths observed, "The eye of the outer jib-stay isn't served." "No," said the Dauber. "No," the man replied. They heaved, stowing the sail, not looking round, no SEA PICTURES Panting, but full of life and eager-eyed ; The gale roared at them with its iron sound. "That's you," the Dauber said. His gasket wound Swift round the yard, binding the sail in bands ; There came a gust, the sail leaped from his hands, So that he saw it high above him, grey. And there his mate was falling ; quick he clutched An arm in oilskins swiftly snatched away. A voice said "Christ!" a quick shape stooped and touched, Chain struck his hands, ropes shot, the sky was smutched With vast black fires that ran, that fell, that furled, And then he saw the mast, the small snow hurled. The fore-topgallant yard far, far aloft. And blackness settling on him and great pain ; And snow beneath his fingers wet and soft. And topsail sheet-blocks shaking at the chain. He knew it was he who had fallen ; then his brain Swirled in a circle while he watched the sky. Infinite multitudes of snow blew by. "I thought it was Tom who fell," his brain's voice said. "Down on the bloody deck!" the Captain screamed. The multitudinous little snow-flakes sped. His pain was real enough, but all else seemed. Si with a bucket ran, the water gleamed Tilting upon him ; others came, the Mate . . . They knelt with eager eyes like things that wait SEA PICTURES iii For other things to come. He saw them there. "It will go on," he murmured, watching Si. Colours and sounds seemed mixing in the air, The pain was stunning him, and the wind went by. "More water," said the Mate. "Here, Bosun, try. Ask if he's got a message. Hell, he's gone ! Here, Dauber, paints." He said, "It will go on." Not knowing his meaning rightly, but he spoke With the intenseness of a fading soul Whose share of Nature's fire turns to smoke. Whose hand on Nature's wheel loses control. The eager faces glowered red like coal. They glowed, the great storm glowed, the sails, the mast. "It will go on," he cried aloud, and passed. Those from the yard came down to tell the tale. "He almost had me off," said Tom. "He slipped. There came one hell of a jump-like from the sail. . . . He clutched at me and almost had me pipped. He caught my 'ris'band, but the oilskin ripped. . . . It tore clean off. Look here. I was near gone. I made a grab to catch him ; so did John. "I caught his arm. My God ! I was near done. He almost had me over; it was near. He hit the ropes and grabbed at every one." "Well," said the Mate, "we cannot leave him here. 112 SEA PICTURES Run, Si, and get the half-deck table clear. We'll lay him there. Catch hold there, you, and you. He's dead, poor son ; there's nothing more to do." Night fell, and all night long the Dauber lay Covered upon the table ; all night long The pitiless storm exulted at her prey. Huddling the waters with her icy thong. But to the covered shape she did no wrong. He lay beneath the sailcloth. Bell by bell The night wore through ; the stars rose, the stars fell. Blowing most pitiless cold out of clear sky The wind roared all night long ; and all night through The green seas on the deck went washing by. Flooding the half-deck ; bitter hard it blew. But little of it all the Dauber knew — The sopping bunks, the floating chests, the wet, The darkness, and the misery, and the sweat. He was off duty. So it blew all night. And when the watches changed the men would come Dripping within the door to strike a light And stare upon the Dauber lying dumb. And say, "He come a cruel thump, poor chum." Or, "He'd a-been a fine big man;" or, "He . . . A smart young seaman he was getting to be." Or, "Damn it all, it's what we've all to face ! . . I knew another fellow one time ..." then SEA PICTURES 113 Came a strange tale of death in a strange place Out on the sea, in ships, with wandering men. In many ways Death puts us into pen. The reefers came down tired and looked and slept. Below the skylight little dribbles crept Along the painted woodwork, glistening, slow, Following the roll and dripping, never fast, But dripping on the quiet form below. Like passing time talking to time long past. And all night long "Ai, ai !" went the wind's blast. And creaming water swished below the pale. Unheeding body stretched beneath the sail. At dawn they sewed him up, and at eight bells They bore him to the gangway, wading deep. Through the green-clutching, white-toothed water-hells That flung his carriers over in their sweep. They laid an old red ensign on the heap. And all hands stood bare-headed, stooping, swaying, Washed by the sea while the old man was praying Out of a borrowed prayer-book. At a sign They twitched the ensign back and tipped the grating. A creamier bubbling broke the bubbling brine. The muffled figure tilted to the weighting ; It dwindled slowly down, slowly gyrating. Some craned to see ; it dimmed, it disappeared ; The last green milky bubble blinked and cleared. 114 SEA PICTURES "Mister, shake out your reefs," the Captain called. "Out topsail reefs !" the Mate cried ; then all hands Hurried, the great sails shook, and all hands hauled, Singing that desolate song of lonely lands, Of how a lover came in dripping bands. Green with the wet and cold, to tell his lover That Death was in the sea, and all was over. Fair came the falling wind ; a seaman said The Dauber was a Jonah ; once again The clipper held her course, showing red lead, Shattering the sea-tops into golden rain. The waves bowed down before her like blown grain ; Onwards she thundered, on ; her voyage was short. Before the tier's bells rang her into port. Cheerly they rang her in, those beating bells, The new-come beauty stately from the sea, Whitening the blue heave of the drowsy swells, Treading the bubbles down. With three tlm.es three They cheered her moving beauty In, and she Came to her berth so noble, so superb ; Swayed like a queen, and answered to the curb. Then in the sunset's flush they went aloft, And unbent sails in that most lovely hour, When the light gentles and the wind is soft. And beauty in the heart breaks like a flower. Working aloft they saw the mountain tower. ■i::t^Si:m:ycfi^;'^§^jif^'^