ward the shell of our tossing smack.
Then out of the fog she thundered, the liner,
smashing to east;
Her green and her red glared overhead and her
bows were spouting yeast.
The eyes of her reddened hawse-holes, her
dripping and towering flanks,
Flashed with no gleam of mercy for her quarry
on the Banks.
She scornfully spurned us under, the while her