Captain Morgan shook his head. "Every Sunday evening," he said, "my missus asks me to read her Macpherson's pome in the Gazette, and I've come to enjoy them myself. Now, what does he say in 'Fishers of Men'?"
"Read it," said Kendrick, picking the Gazette from the litter of newspapers on the table and handing it to Morgan. "If you know how to read poytry, read it aloud, the way you do to your missus. I can't make head or tail of poytry myself; but it looks blasphemious to me."
Captain Morgan wiped his big spectacles while the other two settled themselves to listen critically. Then he began in his best Sunday voice, very slowly, but by no means unimpressively:
Long, long ago He said,
He who could wake the dead,
And walk upon the sea—
"Come, follow Me.
"Leave your brown nets and bring
Only your hearts to sing,
Only your souls to pray,
Rise, come away.
"Shake out your spirit-sails,
And brave those wilder gales,
And I will make you then
Fishers of men."
Was this, then, what He meant?
Was this His high intent,
After two thousand years
Of blood and tears?
God help us, if we fight
For right and not for might.
God help us if we seek
To shield the weak.
Then, though His heaven be far
From this blind welter of war,
He'll bless us on the sea
From Calvary.
"It seems to rhyme all right," said Kendrick. "It's not so bad for Macpherson."