 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
327
JACK'S BURIAL.
[“Shall we fill the maintopsail, sir?” demanded Mr. Leach, after waiting a minute or two in deference to the Commander's feelings, “or shall we hook on the yard-tackles, and stow the launch?” “Not yet, Leach—not yet: it will be unkind to poor Jack to hurry away from his grave so indecently.” *** “The boats, sir?” “Let them tow awhile longer. It will seem like deserting him to be rattling the yard-tackles, and stowing boats directly over his head.”]—
Cooper.
“All hands!” cried the captain, “to bury the dead!”
When dipped into ocean the sun's disc of red;
And the west with those soft, pearly tints was imbued
That paint morn and eve of a low latitude.
When dipped into ocean the sun's disc of red;
And the west with those soft, pearly tints was imbued
That paint morn and eve of a low latitude.
Stretched eastward a coast lined with hillocks of sand,
Dread bound of a waste, uninhabited land;
In other directions the briny swell heaved,
Its gloom by the skies' shifting color relieved.
Dread bound of a waste, uninhabited land;
In other directions the briny swell heaved,
Its gloom by the skies' shifting color relieved.
While passengers gathered, all mournful of look!
And post at the gangway each officer took,
Old Salts, with whom long he had furrowed the wave,
Round the corse of poor Jack mustered silent and grave!
And post at the gangway each officer took,
Old Salts, with whom long he had furrowed the wave,
Round the corse of poor Jack mustered silent and grave!
Astern had they seen, with a thrill of dismay,
The blue, gliding shark on the watch for his prey—
And a spell of repose on the vessel was cast,
With her courses hauled up—topsail laid to the mast.
The blue, gliding shark on the watch for his prey—
And a spell of repose on the vessel was cast,
With her courses hauled up—topsail laid to the mast.
In hammock, a shroud for bold sea-rover meet,
Poor Jack lay enveloped, with lead on his feet—
A stain on the cloth to beholder betrayed
The deep wound beneath by war's messenger made.
Poor Jack lay enveloped, with lead on his feet—
A stain on the cloth to beholder betrayed
The deep wound beneath by war's messenger made.
When burial-service was solemnly read,
And lingering word of farewell had been said,
By signal the body was loosed from the plank—
A dull, heavy plunge, and forever it sank!
And lingering word of farewell had been said,
By signal the body was loosed from the plank—
A dull, heavy plunge, and forever it sank!
328
“Shall we fill the maintopsail?” demanded the mate,
“Or hook on the yard-tackles?” “Wait awhile, wait!
Unkind it would be, on our homeward-bound track,
To hurry away from the grave of poor Jack!
“Or hook on the yard-tackles?” “Wait awhile, wait!
Unkind it would be, on our homeward-bound track,
To hurry away from the grave of poor Jack!
“A mark of respect to our comrade we owe
Who sleeps in a tomb without record below,
Far away, far away from the land of his birth,
And the spot where his fathers rest sweetly in earth!
Who sleeps in a tomb without record below,
Far away, far away from the land of his birth,
And the spot where his fathers rest sweetly in earth!
“His dangerous station he kept at the wheel,
Though sounded his knell in the musket's loud peal;
And grasping the spokes, to yon star-flag that flew
With blue wing on the gale, died the mariner true!”
Though sounded his knell in the musket's loud peal;
And grasping the spokes, to yon star-flag that flew
With blue wing on the gale, died the mariner true!”
“The boats, sir?” hoarse voice of the officer cried,
“Let them tow awhile longer!” his captain replied;
“It would seem like deserting him—canvas to spread,
Or rattle the yard-tackles over his head!”
“Let them tow awhile longer!” his captain replied;
“It would seem like deserting him—canvas to spread,
Or rattle the yard-tackles over his head!”
The fast-closing day grew more gloomy of dye—
Moaned sadly the waters—clouds met in the sky,
As if sympathized nature, in aspect and tone,
With the sorrow-touched hearts of those mariners lone!
Moaned sadly the waters—clouds met in the sky,
As if sympathized nature, in aspect and tone,
With the sorrow-touched hearts of those mariners lone!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |