Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea
Said, "God has touched him! why should we!"
Said an old wife mourning her only son,
"Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!"
So with soft relentings and rude excuse,
Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose,
And gave him a cloak to hide him in,
And left him alone with his shame and sin.
Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
By the women of Marblehead!
John Greenleaf Whittier.
Later investigation proved that Ireson was in no way responsible for the abandonment of the disabled ship, and that his crew had lied in order to save themselves.
A PLEA FOR FLOOD IRESON
[1808]
Old Flood Ireson! all too long
Have jeer and gibe and ribald song
Done thy memory cruel wrong.
Old Flood Ireson, bending low
Under the weight of years and woe,
Crept to his refuge long ago.
Old Flood Ireson sleeps in his grave;
Howls of a mad mob, worse than the wave,
Now no more in his ear shall rave!
* * * * *
Gone is the pack and gone the prey,
Yet old Flood Ireson's ghost to-day
Is hunted still down Time's highway.