602
ONCE A WEEK.
[May 23, 1863.
II.
“Out with the boat there!” some one cried;
“Will he never come? we shall lose the tide:
His berth is trim, and his cabin stored;
He’s a weary long time coming on board!”
III.
The old man struggled, and clutch’d the bed,
He knew the words that the voices said;
Wildly he yell’d, as his eyes grew dim,
“He was dead! he was dead! when I buried him!”
The Cornish Wrecker’s Hut.
IV.
Hark yet again to the devilish roar!
“He was nimbler once with a ship on shore;
Come, come, old man! ’tis a vain delay!
We shall make the offing by break of day!”
V.
Hard was the struggle, but at the last,
With a stormy pang, old Mawgan pass’d;
And away, away! beneath their sight,
Gleam’d the Red Sail at pitch of night
R. S. H.
