A boat with men all well armed:
But the sea was high, the wind so blew,
And nought but present death in view,
They hail’d each other, and that was all,
It was no time to search or call:
Had not this storm proved their frien’,
He’d surely in their clutches been.
And when they reached the main land,
Under the lee they’re forc’d to stand,
The pilot ran her into a creek,