THE SAVING OF THE CORA ANDREWS 87 Told him that his soul's redemption hinged upon the course he took; Said he'd get his name recorded in Jehovah's Judgment Book: Swore 'twould win him reinstatement in the Navy when 'twas found How he'd took her to Australia — and 'twas this that brought him 'round. No one met his flashin' glances when we sped him from the strand, For we knew death had his tow-line, haulin' in hand over hand; But we watched him, 'shamed an' guilty; saw him crack a bottle's neck, Take a swig, an' then another as he touched the quarterdeck. Saw him set his heavy shoulders, heard the ring of sharp command, Saw the reelin' niggers swarmin' round the capstan in a band; Saw 'em swayin' onto halyards, saw 'em tailin' on a sheet, Heard the bang o' block an' tackle an' the thud o' poundin' feet; Saw 'em raise an' cat the anchor, saw the Cora fall away An' go choppin' through the tide-rip at the entrance o' the bay. Seven days Bell sailed the Cora from the mouth o' Kai Lagoon; Drove her through a fierce sou'wester, ran her free with the Monsoon; Tossin' over dead in dozens, keepin' up the rest with gin; Cussin', bootin', swearin', breakin' the new sailors in. Day an' night, in ev'ry weather, rampin' wild 'tween stem an' stern, Throwin' down a swig o' whiskey ev'ry time he made a turn; Drivin' on the dyin' niggers, pilin' up the bulgin' sail, Till the Cora split the surges, spittin' like a harpooned whale. Six days out he raised the Barrier coral shoals and coral jaws, Crooked teeth o' crusted coral, crinkly lines o' coral claws Damdest piece o' navigation that's in all the Seven Seas, An' Bell took the wheel to steer her, with the shakin' o' his knees And the burnin' o' his gullet, as he downed another peg, Flashin' up as danger signals o' the comin' o' the "pleg." They lashed him to a tripod when his head began to reel, As he hung there, grim, determined, grindin' steady at the wheel. With a parasol an' nigger blockin' off the sun's hot rays, An' a siphon an' a bottle fightin' the eternal blaze. THE VOYAGERS 89 Seven hours o' steady steerin' how 'twas done defies belief An' he'd sailed the Cora Andrews safely through the Barrier Reef. They saved some three-score niggers in the Townsville quarantine, An' the news o' what had happened brought a cable from the Queen; But the man whose nerve an' courage brought the bloomin' coup about Had dropped his own life's anchor as the Cora's chain ran out. Lewis R. Freeman THE VOYAGERS We were weary of our prison, with its wheels that grind and roar, Till we broke the bonds that held us there, and knew that we were free, Till the walls were far behind us and the morning star before, And the life that knows no master and the surging of the sea. So we built a ship and manned her and we left the seething town, And we reached the Northern Ocean where the ice-fields heave and groan, And they fettered us and bound us while the mocking sun looked down, And we froze and starved and gloried for the toil was all our own. Then back we came and wearily we sought the trodden way, And we left the ship at anchor and we thought our work was done; Till we looked across the waters and we heard the leaping spray Laugh to scorn our dull contentment in a peace we had not won. So we manned our ship a second time and sailed her round the world, Twenty months of wave and tempest till we reached the kindly shore; Then we brought her back to harbor, once again her sails we furled, And we swore by all the gods of earth to sail the sea no more. But the winds still call us onward to the prize we cannot gain, And rest is dreary to the soul as meadows to the eye; Let us leave the land behind us, let us launch the ship again, And we'll sail for worlds undreamed-of, sail forever till we die. Henry Adams Bellows THE LAST SHIP If men who love ships were to choose the last To be a final vision from the sea It would be one of lofty, slender mast With bright sails filled and lifted gloriously. It would be a ship that proud adventurers SEA FEVER Oh, the sun is striking down at my heart within the town, And the long streets are leering at my pain; Will these bells and whistles cease, is there anywhere there's peace? Shall I ever know the wind and spray again? Give me a boat again, set me out afloat again, Sail or keel, oar or wheel, any, anything to feel Salt and spray upon my face where, lips wet with wind, I race, Race the clouds and stars again, far from home and haunt of men; For the wind and waterways have stamped me with their seal! Oh, the clamor of the town molds me, holds me grimly down, And the heat winds its hands about my throat. |