["If lost hounds could speak when they cast up next day after an unchecked night among the wild life of the dark they would talk much as our destroyers do."—Rudyard Kipling.]
They had hot scent across the spumy sea,
Gehenna and her sister, swift Shaitan,
That in the pack, with Goblin, Eblis ran
And many a couple more, full cry, foot-free;
The dog-fox and his brood were fain to flee,
But bare of fang and dangerous to the van
That pressed them close. So when the kill began
Some hounds were lamed and some died splendidly.
But from the dusk along the Skagerack,
Until dawn loomed upon the Reef of Horn
And the last fox had slunk back to his earth,
They kept the great traditions of the pack,
Staunch-hearted through the hunt, as they were born,
These hounds that England suckled at the birth.
Reginald McIntosh Cleveland
BRITISH MERCHANT SERVICE
Oh, down by Millwall Basin as I went the other day,
I met a skipper that I knew, and to him I did say:
"Now what's the cargo, Captain, that brings you up this way?"
"Oh, I've been up and down (said he) and round about also….
From Sydney to the Skagerack, and Kiel to Callao….
With a leaking steam-pipe all the way to Californ-i-o….
"With pots and pans and ivory fans and every kind of thing,
Rails and nails and cotton bales, and sewer pipes and string….
But now I'm through with cargoes, and I'm here to serve the King!
"And if it's sweeping mines (to which my fancy somewhat leans)
Or hanging out with booby-traps for the skulking submarines,
I'm here to do my blooming best and give the beggars beans!
"A rough job and a tough job is the best job for me,
And what or where I don't much care, I'll take what it may be,
For a tight place is the right place when it's foul weather at sea!"