DRAKE'S DRUM

157

DRAKE'S DRUM

Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile

away

(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)

Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships, Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe,

An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin',

He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas,

(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)

Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at

ease,

An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. "Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore, Strike et when your powder's runnin' low;

If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago."

Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come,

(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?),

Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum,

An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, Call him when ye sail to meet the foe;

Where the old Trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin' They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago!

Sir Henry Newbolt

THE BOATSWAIN'S STORY

On the first voyage that I ever made,
I had heard so much about the cruel sea
That I expected, when we passed the bar,

Neptune would be howling and throwing water on us. Instead of that, we had fair weather, weeks and weeks,

And a beautiful, dreamy sea

So that I was near afraid to watch the ship break through it,

For it was just like tearing silk.

And I thought that then I loved the sea
More than anything I had ever known.

We went to Chow and took for freight
Five hundred immigrants for Madagascar.
All through the China and South China sea
We had such weather that I thought

That it could never storm again; and that life at sea
Must have been rougher in my father's time.

We came into the Indian ocean,

And it was like a lake of glass

With white clouds reflected in it.

The weather was warm, with no breeze.
And we had awnings over the whole ship.
Out on the fore-deck, where the Chinese were,
We had two galleys and a hog-pen on the deck.

THE BOATSWAIN'S STORY

159

One day, when I was on the main deck

Watching those Chinese under the awnings,

The mate came by, saying to the bos'n that the sky looked bad.

It did look queer, all right.

And I thought that maybe we would have some rain.

While I still was standing there,

Watching two of the Chinese play a game,

“LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! MY GOD!"

The wind struck us

And the awnings blew away, all at once,

As a man's clothes are torn off in an explosion.

Then the whole sea lifted, higher than the ship,
And came at us over the fo'cs'le head.

At first I thought that it was all a dream,

Until I saw those Chinamen, and our deck lumber, And hogs, and big iron kettles from the galley Pile up against the bridge.

It looked like badly-made Chop Suey.

Some of the Chinamen had broke their arms and

legs;

And some were all cut up.

The fo'cs'le and all the rooms were wet.

And some got fever from it.

When morning came, we dropped ten overboard, Not knowing when we would be there ourselves. After two days, the wind went down.

And bye and bye, the sea was like a lake of glass, With white clouds in it.

You might have thought old Neptune

Had forgotten how to storm.

But I remembered what was said about the

cruel sea.

And I understood.

A. Binns

EUTHANASIA

"The Iowa was used as a target and sunk." Lead sky where planes like vultures soar, Slate sea where sea-hounds by the score Swarm in to learn the lesson hoar, How a brave ship may die.

Blind, toothless, clad in mangy rust,

A feeble war-dog, once the Nation's trust,
There to be slain as old dogs must,
Their fighting days gone by.

Unmanned, unarmed, she steams for home,

Never again to push the foam,
Never again the seas to roam,
With head held proudly high.

Far in the offing, clouds of blue

Belch forth with flames of orange hue,

A gallant ship to give her due,

As aged warriors die.

Silence and then the crash and shock,
As deadly shells her old frame rock,
She gamely turns her foes to mock,
Still there when smoke blows by.

WITH THE SUBMARINES

In her old sides great, gaping wounds
Let in the sea with strangling sounds:
Her decks aheap with splintered mounds;
Pillars of smoke rise high.

As an old swordsman grants defeat,
She bows with dignity complete,
And slowly bends the sea to meet,
In stateliness to die.

Loud in salute guns peal her knell,
The anthem rises o'er the swell
Marking the spot where patriot fell
In bravest honor high.

Farewell! The seas uncharted sail,
Your dauntless courage will not fail
The search for Freedom's Holy Grail,
Your spirit never die.

161

Colby Rucker

WITH THE SUBMARINES

Above, the baffled twilight fails; beneath, the blind snakes creep;

Beside us glides the charnel shark, our pilot through the deep;

And, lurking where low headlands shield from

cruising scout and spy,

We bide the signal through the gloom that bids us slay or die.