Pebbles and Shells (Hawkes collection)/The Midshipmite
THE MIDSHIPMITE
Ah yes my lads, 'was long ago, It seems an age to me,Since good ship Victor spread her sails And then put out to sea.
She was as staunch and true a ship As ever sailed the main,She'd hold her own on any sea, In wind or hurricane.
And all our crew were stalwart men As ever walked a deck,Our mate had sailed in unknown seas And outlived many a wreck.
Our captain was a sailor born And well he kept his log,Yet had one fault, one grievous sin, He guzzled too much grog.
But not of these I tell my tale, 'Tis of the midshipmite,He was the joy of all the ship Our solace and delight.
His eyes were blue as any sea, His cheeks were like the dawn,And fair his shock of flaxen hair As wind e'er blew upon.
He was an orphan and a waif, Yet happy as a king,And it was music to my soul To hear him laugh and sing.
The winds were fair and all went well Until we struck a seaAlong the low Australian coast, In latitude twenty-three.
Where not a ripple stirred the brine Or e'en a sail would fill,Where all was brazen overhead And all was deathly still.
Three dreary days we sweltered there Beneath that sky of brass,Three weary days we floated there Upon that sea of glass.
Then suddenly from out the south There grew a tiny speck,"Haul in your canvas," roared the mate, "Or we shall be a wreck!"
Old sailors sprang upon the yards And quickly shortened sail,And in a breath the vessel stood Trimmed ready for the gale.
The typhoon struck us full astern, Stout masts bent down like reeds,She rose and fell, then rose again To meet old ocean's steeds.
In serried ranks they charged her deck, They drenched the scattered crew,And lower still the mastheads bent As still the tempest grew.
But good ship Victor laughed to scorn The winds that blew so free,And raised her crest above the waves And bounded o'er the sea.
Then staggering upward from below Our drunken captain came,His bloodshot eyes seemed filled with fire, His swarthy cheeks aflame.
"What means this coward crew!" he cried, "What! fear you such a gale?All hands aloft upon the yards And set the topmost sail.
What then my lads, you will not go?" The frenzied captain cried,"'ll teach this crew to disobey— Bring out my old rawhide!"
The middy stood bewildered there Uncertain what to do,He saw the captain's sullen glare, The darkly frowning crew;
He saw the snow white canvas gleam Upon each straining mast,He heard the beating of his heart Above the howling blast.
Then like a hound the captain sprang, And forward sprang the mateTo snatch the middy from his grasp— Ah God! too late! too late!
He seized him fiercely by the throat— My blood ran cold in me,Then hurled him far across the deck Into the raging sea.
A wild, wild cry, like a sea gull's scream, Fell sharply on the air,And a stifled groan from man to man Went upward like a prayer.
No boat could live in such a sea, No hand but God's could save,He rose upon the billow's crest, Then sank beneath the wave.
A moment more and far away I saw him rise and dip,And when the midshipmite went down He beckoned to the ship.
We never saw the lad again Or heard his merry song,And all our hearts were filled with grief And all the ship seemed wrong.
But in the watches of the night Our wretched captain sworeHe heard the middy's cry for help Above the deafening roar.
And when the morning came again With breeze and balmy air,He saw his form upon the waves; His hand still beckoned there.
Thus wore the weary voyage on Until we entered port,With changing winds and fickle seas And all things out of sort.
We lay in port a weary week And then put out to sea,The middy followed in our wake, All was adversity.
The winds blew east the winds blew west They then blew north and south,The sea was smooth the sea was rough, And it ope'd its yawning mouth.
We shifted sail and tacked and turned To please the powers that be,Until we reached that selfsame coast In latitude twenty-three.
And there we hung upon that sea As we had done before,As lifeless as a phantom ship Beside a phantom shore.
Then once again there came a speck From out the brazen south,And once again his steeds rose up When Neptune blew his breath.
We did not hear the demon come, It came with noiseless feet,Until the sea about the ship Was all one boiling sheet.
Until the tempest struck the ship And stripped her of her sails,Until the monsters of the deep Were pouring o'er our rails.
We tried to keep her to the wind— She would not mind her wheel,The billows tossed her bow about And made her rock and reel.
Still louder and still louder grew The tempest's mighty roar,And all that time our helpless ship Swept onward toward the shore.
"It is the lad!" our captain cried, "That stirs this angry sea,I see his hand above the mast, It beckons unto me."
We heard the breakers on the shore Above the howling gale,And fearless hearts grew cold with fear, And swarthy cheeks grew pale.
Swift as a mountain avalanche, Dread messenger of grief,Our good ship skimmed the rushing seas And struck upon the reef.
And where she struck the breakers lay Like snow-fields, but alas!Beneath their foam were jagged rocks— Her hull broke up like glass.
Her tall masts fell like broken reeds Into the boiling brine,And hull and bar and canvas lay Along the dread snow line.
Half stunned and bleeding, on a spar, With knotted ropes made fast,Made sport of by the cruel waves, Derided by the blast,
I tossed upon the angry sea Until its wrath was gone,At morn it left me on the strand, Half naked and alone.
I saw the wreck along the shore By mighty billows rolled,I saw her timbers on the sand, Amid the slime and mold.
And in the pauses of the blast, The breakers seemed to say,"Vengeance is mine," Jehovah saith, "I surely will repay."