Leaking like a lobster-pot, steering like dray Out we took the 'Bolivar,' out across the Bay! One by one the Lights came up, winked and let us by; Mile by mile we waddled on, coal and fo'c'sle short; Met a blow that laid us down, heard a bulkhead fly; Left The Wolf behind us with a two foot-list to port. Trailing like a wounded duck, working out her soul; Clanging like a smithy-shop after every roll; Just a funnel and a mast lurching through the spray So we threshed the 'Bolivar' out across the Bay! Felt her hog and felt her sag, betted when she'd break; Wondered every time she raced if she'd stand the shock; Heard the seas like drunken men pounding at her strake; Hoped the Lord 'ud keep his thumb on the plummer-block. Banged against the iron decks, bilges choked with coal; Flayed and frozen foot and hand, sick of heart and soul; 'Last we prayed she'd buck herself into Judg ment Day Hi! we cursed the 'Bolivar' knocking round the Bay! Oh! her nose flung up to sky, groaning to be still— Up and down and back we went, never time for breath; Then the money paid at Lloyd's caught her by the heel, And the stars ran round and round dancin' at our death. Aching for an hour's sleep, dozing off between; green; Watched the compass chase its tail like a cat at play That was on the 'Bolivar,' south across the Bay. Once we saw between the squalls, lyin' head to swell Mad with work and weariness, wishin' they was we Some damned Liner's lights go by like a grand hotel; Cheered her from the 'Bolivar,' swampin' in the sea. Then a greyback cleared us out, then the skipper laughed; 'Boys, the wheel has gone to Hell-rig the winches aft! 'Yoke the kicking rudder-head-get her under So we steered her, pulley-haul, out across the Just a pack o' rotten plates puttied up with tar, Overloaded, undermanned, meant to founder, we Euchred God Almighty's storm, bluffed the Seven men from all the world, back to town again, Rollin' down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Seven men from out of Hell. Ain't the owners gay, 'Cause we took the 'Bolivar' safe across the Bay? THE LOST LEGION THERE'S a Legion that never was 'listed, Is breaking the road for the rest. They taught us, and groomed us, and crammed; But we've shaken the Clubs and the Messes To go and find out and be damned, To go and get shot and be damned. So some of us chevy the slaver, And some of us cherish the black, And some of us hunt on the Oil Coast, And some on—the Wallaby track : And some of us drift to Sarawak, And some of us drift up The Fly, And some share our tucker with tigers, Dear boys! Take tea with the giddy Masai. 74 Copyright, 1893, by Macmillan & Co. |