And slid, or leaped, or ran with whirls of cloud,
Mad with inhuman life that shrieked aloud.
The watch was called; Dauber might go below.
"Splice the main brace!" the Mate called. All laid aft
To get a gulp of momentary glow
As some reward for having saved the craft.
The steward ladled mugs, from which each quaff'd
Whisky, with water, sugar, and lime-juice, hot,
A quarter of a pint each made the tot.
Beside the lamp-room door the steward stood