“‘Our bark may never outride the gale. ’Tis a pitiless night! The pattering hail Hath coated each spar as ’twere in mail; And our sails are riven before the breeze, While our cordage and shrouds into icicles freeze!’
“Thus spake the skipper beside the mast, While the arrowy sleet fell thick and fast; And our bark drove onward before the blast That goaded the waves, till the angry main Rose up and strove with the hurricane.
“Up spake the mate, and his tone was gay,— ‘Shall we at this hour to fear give way? We must labor, in sooth, as well as pray. Out, shipmates, and grapple home yonder sail, That flutters in ribbons before the gale!’
“Loud swelled the tempest, and rose the shriek, ‘Save, save! we are sinking! A leak! a leak!’ And the hale old skipper’s tawny cheek Was cold, as ’twere sculptured in marble there, And white as the foam or his own white hair.
“The wind piped shrilly, the wind piped loud, It shrieked ’mong the cordage, it howled in the shroud, And the sleet fell thick from the cold, dun cloud; But high over all, in tones of glee, The voice of the mate rang cheerily,—
“Now, men, for your wives’ and your sweethearts’ sakes! Cheer, messmates, cheer! Quick! man the brakes! We’ll gain on the leak ere the skipper wakes; And though our peril your hearts appall, Ere dawns the morrow we’ll laugh at the squall.”
“He railed at the tempest, he laughed at its threats, He played with his fingers like castanets; Yet think not that he, in his mirth, forgets That the plank he is riding this hour at sea May launch him the next to eternity!