XXVI.

'Twas not without some reason, for the wind
Increased at night, until it blew a gale;
And though 'twas not much to a naval mind,
Some landsmen would have look'd a little pale,
For sailors are, in fact, a different kind:

At sunset they began to take in sail,

For the sky show'd it would come on to blow, And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so.

XXVII.

At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea, Which struck her aft, and made an awkward rift, Started the stern-post, also shatter'd the Whole of her stern-frame, and ere she could lift Herself from out her present jeopardy

The rudder tore away: 'twas time to sound

The pumps, and there were four feet water found.

XXVIII.

One gang of people instantly was put
Upon the pumps, and the remainder set
To get up part of the cargo, and what not,
But they could not come at the leak as yet;
At last they did get at it really, but

Still their salvation was an even bet:

The water rush'd through in a way quite puzzling, While they thrust sheets, shirts, jackets, bales of muslin,

XXIX.

Into the opening; but all such ingredients

Would have been vain, and they must have gone

down,

Despite of all their efforts and expedients,

But for the pumps: I'm glad to make them known To all the brother tars who may have need hence, For fifty tons of water were upthrown By them per hour, and they had all been undone But for the maker, Mr. Mann, of London.

As day advanced the weather seem'd to abate, And then the leak they reckon'd to reduce, And keep the ship afloat, though three feet yet Kept two hand and one chain-pump still in use. The wind blew fresh again: as it grew late

A squall came on,

and while some guns broke

loose,

A gust-which all descriptive power transcends Laid with one blast the ship on her beam ends.

XXXI.

There she lay, motionless, and seem'd upset; The water left the hold, and wash'd the decks, And made a scene men do not soon forget;

For they remember battles, fires, and wrecks, Or any other thing that brings regret,

Or breaks their hopes, or hearts, or heads, or

necks:

Thus drownings are much talk'd of by the divers And swimmers who may

chance to be survivors,

XXXII.

Immediately the masts were cut away,..

Both main and mizen; first the mizen went, The mainmast follow'd: but the ship still lay Like a mere log, and baffled our intent. Foremast and bowsprit were cut down, and they Eased her at last (although we never meant To part with all till every hope was blighted), And then with violence the old ship righted

ХХХІІ.

It may be easily supposed, while this

Was going on, some people were unquiet, That passengers would find it much amiss

To lose their lives as well as spoil their diet; That even the able seaman, deeming his

As

Days nearly o'er, might be disposed to riot, upon such occasions tars will ask

For

grog,

and sometimes drink rum from the cask.

XXXIV.

There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms As rum and true religion; thus it was,

Some plunder'd, some drank spirits, some sung

psalms,

The high wind made the treble, and as bass The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms

Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws: Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion, Clamour'd in chorus to the roaring ocean.

XXXV.

Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for
Our Juan, who, with sense beyond his years,
Got to the spirit-room, and stood before
It with a pair of pistols; and their fears,
As if Death were more dreadful by his door

of fire than water, spite of oaths and tears, Kept still aloof the crew, who, ere they sunk, Thought it would be becoming to die drunk.