Did envy possess your soul; that they were sure of their goal
Never a damn cared you,
For you are one with the sea—in its joy and misery
You follow its lure.
In the peace of Chapel Cleeve, surely you must believe,
Though far off from us,
That wherever the Quest may go; what winds blow high or low—
Zephyrs or icy gale:
Safe in our hearts you stand; one with our little band.
A seaman, Gerald, are you!