The Story Of A Round-House And Other Poems Part 6

So the night pa.s.sed, but then no morning broke-- Only a something showed that night was dead.

A sea-bird, cackling like a devil, spoke, And the fog drew away and hung like lead.

Like mighty cliffs it shaped, sullen and red; Like glowering G.o.ds at watch it did appear, And sometimes drew away, and then drew near.

Like islands, and like chasms, and like h.e.l.l, But always mighty and red, gloomy and ruddy, Shutting the visible sea in like a well; Slow heaving in vast ripples, blank and muddy, Where the sun should have risen it streaked b.l.o.o.d.y.

The day was still-born; all the sea-fowl scattering Splashed the still water, mewing, hovering, clattering.

Then Polar snow came down little and light, Till all the sky was hidden by the small, Most mult.i.tudinous drift of dirty white Tumbling and wavering down and covering all-- Covering the sky, the sea, the clipper tall, Furring the ropes with white, casing the mast, Coming on no known air, but blowing past.

And all the air seemed full of gradual moan, As though in those cloud-chasms the horns were blowing The mort for G.o.ds cast out and overthrown, Or for the eyeless sun plucked out and going.

Slow the low gradual moan came in the snowing; The Dauber felt the prelude had begun.

The snowstorm fluttered by; he saw the sun

Show and pa.s.s by, gleam from one towering prison Into another, vaster and more grim, Which in dull crags of darkness had arisen To m.u.f.fle-to a final door on him.

The G.o.ds upon the dull crags lowered dim, The pigeons chattered, quarrelling in the track.

In the south-west the dimness dulled to black.

Then came the cry of "Call all hands on deck!"

The Dauber knew its meaning; it was come: Cape Horn, that tramples beauty into wreck, And crumples steel and smites the strong man dumb.

Down clattered flying kites and staysails: some Sang out in quick, high calls: the fair-leads skirled, And from the south-west came the end of the world.

"Caught in her ball-dress," said the Bosun, hauling "Lee-ay, lee-ay!" quick, high, came the men's call; It was all wallop of sails and startled calling.

"Let fly!" "Let go!" "Clew up!" and "Let go all!"

"Now up and make them fast!" "Here, give us a haul!"

"Now up and stow them! Quick! By G.o.d! we're done!"

The blackness crunched all memory of the sun.

"Up!" said the Mate. "Mizen top-gallants. Hurry!"

The Dauber ran, the others ran, the sails Slatted and shook; out of the black a flurry Whirled in fine lines, tattering the edge to trails.

Painting and art and England were old tales Told in some other life to that pale man, Who struggled with white fear and gulped and ran.

He struck a ringbolt in his haste and fell-- Rose, sick with pain, half-lamed in his left knee; He reached the shrouds where clambering men pell-mell Hustled each other up and cursed him; he Hurried aloft with them: then from the sea Came a cold, sudden breath that made the hair Stiff on the neck, as though Death whispered there.

A man below him punched him in the side.

"Get up, you Dauber, or let me get past."

He saw the belly of the skysail skied, Gulped, and clutched tight, and tried to go more fast.

Sometimes he missed his ratline and was gra.s.sed, Sc.r.a.ped his s.h.i.+n raw against the rigid line.

The clamberers reached the futtock-shrouds' incline.

Cursing they came; one, kicking out behind, Kicked Dauber in the mouth, and one below Punched at his calves; the futtock-shrouds inclined It was a perilous path for one to go.

"Up, Dauber, up!" A curse followed a blow.

He reached the top and gasped, then on, then on.

And one voice yelled "Let go!" and one "All gone!"

Fierce clamberers, some in oilskins, some in rags, Hustling and hurrying up, up the steep stairs.

Before the windless sails were blown to flags, And whirled like dirty birds athwart great airs, Ten men in all, to get this mast of theirs Snugged to the gale in time. "Up! d.a.m.n you, run!"

The mizen topmast head was safely won.

"Lay out!" the Bosun yelled. The Dauber laid Out on the yard, gripping the yard, and feeling Sick at the mighty s.p.a.ce of air displayed Below his feet, where mewing birds were wheeling.

A giddy fear was on him; he was reeling.

He bit his lip half through, clutching the jack.

A cold sweat glued the s.h.i.+rt upon his back.

The yard was shaking, for a brace was loose.

He felt that he would fall; he clutched, he bent, Clammy with natural terror to the shoes While idiotic promptings came and went.

Snow fluttered on a wind-flaw and was spent; He saw the water darken. Someone yelled, "Frap it; don't stay to furl! Hold on!" He held.

Darkness came down--half darkness--in a whirl; The sky went out, the waters disappeared.

He felt a shocking pressure of blowing hurl The s.h.i.+p upon her side. The darkness speared At her with wind; she staggered, she careered, Then down she lay. The Dauber felt her go; He saw his yard tilt downwards. Then the snow

Whirled all about--dense, mult.i.tudinous, cold-- Mixed with the wind's one devilish thrust and shriek, Which whiffled out men's tears, deafened, took hold, Flattening the flying drift against the cheek.

The yards buckled and bent, man could not speak.

The s.h.i.+p lay on her broadside; the wind's sound Had devilish malice at having got her downed.

How long the gale had blown he could not tell, Only the world had changed, his life had died.

A moment now was everlasting h.e.l.l.

Nature an onslaught from the weather side, A withering rush of death, a frost that cried, Shrieked, till he withered at the heart; a hail Plastered his oilskins with an icy mail.

"Cut!" yelled his mate. He looked--the sail was gone, Blown into rags in the first furious squall; The tatters drummed the devil's tattoo. On The buckling yard a block thumped like a mall.

The s.h.i.+p lay--the sea smote her, the wind's bawl Came, "loo, loo, loo!" The devil cried his hounds On to the poor spent stag strayed in his bounds.

"Cut! Ease her!" yelled his mate; the Dauber heard.

His mate wormed up the tilted yard and slashed, A rag of canvas skimmed like a darting bird.

The snow whirled, the s.h.i.+p bowed to it, the gear lashed, The sea-tops were cut off and flung down smashed; Tatters of shouts were flung, the rags of yells-- And clang, clang, clang, below beat the two bells.

"O G.o.d!" the Dauber moaned. A roaring rang, Blasting the royals like a cannonade; The backstays parted with a cracking clang, The upper spars were snapped like twigs decayed-- Snapped at their heels, their jagged splinters splayed, Like white and ghastly hair erect with fear.

The Mate yelled, "Gone, by G.o.d, and pitched them clear!"

"Up!" yelled the Bosun; "up and clear the wreck!"

The Dauber followed where he led: below He caught one giddy glimpsing of the deck Filled with white water, as though heaped with snow.

He saw the streamers of the rigging blow Straight out like pennons from the splintered mast, Then, all sense dimmed, all was an icy blast

Roaring from nether h.e.l.l and filled with ice, Roaring and cras.h.i.+ng on the jerking stage, An utter bridle given to utter vice, Limitless power mad with endless rage Withering the soul; a minute seemed an age.

He clutched and hacked at ropes, at rags of sail, Thinking that comfort was a fairy-tale

Told long ago--long, long ago--long since Heard of in other lives--imagined, dreamed-- There where the basest beggar was a prince To him in torment where the tempest screamed, Comfort and warmth and ease no longer seemed Things that a man could know: soul, body, brain, Knew nothing but the wind, the cold, the pain.

"Leave that!" the Bosun shouted; "Crojick save!"

The splitting crojick, not yet gone to rags, Thundered below, beating till something gave, Bellying between its buntlines into bags.

Some birds were blown past, shrieking: dark, like s.h.a.gs, Their backs seemed, looking down. "Leu, leu!" they cried.

The s.h.i.+p lay, the seas thumped her; she had died.

They reached the crojick yard, which buckled, buckled Like a thin whalebone to the topsail's strain.

They laid upon the yard and heaved and knuckled, Pounding the sail, which jangled and leapt again.

It was quite hard with ice, its rope like chain, Its strength like seven devils; it shook the mast.

They cursed and toiled and froze: a long time pa.s.sed.