VI.
Four times we all but touched her,
Four times adrift were flung,
The fifth I sprang and clutched her,
And leech-like there I clung;
And thus to Guy's enclasping,
With one arm tightly grasping,
Those famished forms I lowered,
Till, well-nigh overpowered,
I trembled where I hung.
Then Guy and Wilfred, straining,
New strength from victory gaining,
Drew down the last remaining,
Till all were safely stowed;
And shoreward with our treasure,
All pain transformed to pleasure,
With oars in mirthful measure
At break of dawn we rowed.