Mast upon mast arose; the river's flanks
Were filled with English ships, and one he found
Needing another stoker, being homeward bound.
And all the time the trouble in his head
Ran like a whirlwind moving him; he knew
Since she was lost that he was better dead.
He had no project outlined, what to do,
Beyond go home; he joined the steamer's crew.
She sailed that night: he dulled his maddened soul,
Plying the iron coal-slice on the bunker coal.