Or, Sketches of Naval Life during the War.
BY THE OLD SAILOR.
No. III.
WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
THE CHASE.—THE FORECASTLE YARN.
"Not a cloud is before her To dim her pure light; Not a shadow comes o'er her, Her beauty to blight: But she glows in soft lustre— One star by her side— From her throne in the azure, Earth's beautiful bride."
A cheerless and disheartening spectacle is a dismasted ship, with all her mass of wreck still clinging to the hull, that it once bore proudly over the billows! 'Tis like the unfortunate abandoned by his friends, who, however, continue to hang around him, though more to impede his way than to retrieve his fortunes! And there lay the Spankaway, with her long line of taper spars reversed, their heads in the water, and their heels uppermost; and, as if in mockery of the mishap, the beautiful bright moon showed their diminished shadows on the again smooth surface of the ocean. The squall had passed far away to leeward, and was dwindling to a mere speck of silvery vapour, whilst all besides was still, and calm, and passionless.
Now it was no pleasant sight to Lord Eustace Dash and his officers to witness the dismantling of the craft they loved; and, as the chief, it may be naturally supposed that the chagrin of his lordship far exceeded that of his subs: but there was one amongst them almost affected to tears, and that was old Will Parallel, the master.
"Smack smooth to the lower caps, by ——!" said his lordship, as he surveyed the havoc made in his dashing frigate; "not a rope-yarn above the lower mast-heads, and—"