“My men grow mutinous day by day;(11)
My men grow ghastly wan and weak!”
The stout mate thought of home;(12) a spray(13)
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
“What shall I say, brave Adm’r’l, say,
If we sight(14) naught but seas at dawn?”
“Why, you shall say, at break of day,(15)
Sail on! Sail on! Sail on and on!”
They sailed.(16) They sailed.(17) Then spake(18) the mate:
“This mad sea(19) shows his teeth to-night,