Songs of the sea and lays of the land :: :: University of Virginia Library

THE STORY OF SAMUEL JACKSON

I'll tell you of a sailor now, a tale that can't be beat,
His name was Samuel Jackson, and his height was seven feet;
And how this man was shipwrecked in the far Pacific Isles,
And of the heathen natives with their suppositious wiles.

I once crossed the Atlantic in a sailing-vessel, sharing my state-room with a veteran sea-captain who had been for forty years in the whaling service. He had an inexhaustible stock of sea-folk-lore, which he freely imparted to me who was an eager listener, and as the voyage lasted thirty-five days I had opportunity to gather much. I am indebted to him for this amusing interchange of words. When telling me that he once went incognito to revisit his old home in Connecticut he said, “I passed under a superstitious name.”

Now when the others cut the ship, because she was a wreck,
They left this Samuel Jackson there, a-standin' on the deck—
That is, a standin' on the deck, while sittin' on the boom;
They wouldn't let him in the boat 'cos he took up too much room.

When up there came a tilted wave, and like a horse it romped,
It fell like mountains on the boat, and so the boat was swamped;

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And of those selfish mariners full every one was drowned,
While Samuel, standing on the deck, beheld it safe and sound.

Now when the sea grew soft and still, and all the gale was o'er,
Sam Jackson made himself a raft, and paddled safe ashore.
For fear of fatal accidents—not knowin' what might come,
He took a gun and matches, with a prudent cask of rum.

Now this island where he landed proved as merry as a fife,
For its indigents had ne'er beheld a white man in their life;
Such incidents as rum and guns they never yet had seen,
And likewise, in religion, they were awful jolly green.

But they had a dim tradition, from their ancestors, in course,
Which they had somehow derived from a very ancient source:
How that a god would come to them, and set the island right;
And how he should be orful tall, and likewise pearly white.

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Now when they saw this Samuel approachin' on his raft,
The news through all the island shades was quickly telegrapht,
How all their tribulations would speedily be past,
'Cos the long-expected sucker was invadin' 'em at last.

Now when Sam Jackson stept ashore, as modest as you please,
Nine thousand bloomin' savages received him on their knees;
He looked around in wonderment, regardin' it as odd,
Not bein' much accustomed to be worshipped as a god.

But he twigged the situation, and with a pleasin' smile
Stretched out his hands, a-blessin' all the natives of the isle;
He did it well, although his paws were bigger than a pan,
Because he was habitual a most politeful man.

So to return their manners, and nary-wise for fun,
He raised himself with dignity, and then fired off his gun:
So all allowed that he must be one of the heavenly chaps,
Since he went about with lightning and dispensed with thunderclaps.

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They took him on their shoulders, and he let it go for good,
And went into their city in the which a temple stood,
And sot him on the altar, and made him their salams,
And brought him pleasant coco-nuts, with chickens, po and yams.

And from that day henceforward, in a captivating style,
He relegated, as he pleased, the natives of that isle;
And when an unbeliever rose—as now and then were some,
He cured their irreligion with a little taste of rum.

He settled all their business, and he did it very well,
So everything went booming like a blessed wedding bell;
Eleven lovely feminines attended to his wants,
And a guard of honour followed him to all his usual haunts.

Now what mortal men are made of, that they can't put up with bliss,
I do not know, but this I know, that Sam got tired of this;
He wished that he was far away, again aboard a ship,
And all he thought of—night and day—was givin' 'em the slip.

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And so one night when all was still and every soul asleep,
He got into a good canoe and paddled o'er the deep,
But oh the row the natives made, when early in the morn
They came to worship Samuel, and found their god was gone!

Then Samuel travelled many days, but had the luck at last
To meet a brig from Boston where he shipped before the mast;
And he gave it as his sentiments, and no one thought it odd,
He was better off as sailor than when sailing as a god.

Now many years had flown away when Samuel was forgot,
There came a ship for pearl shell unto that lonely spot;
They went into the temple, and what do you suppose
They found the natives worshipping—a suit of Samuel's clothes!

And this was the tradition of the people of the soil,
How once a great divinity had ruled upon their isle;
Four fathom tall, with eyes like fire, and such was their believin',
One night he got upon the moon—and sailed away to Heaven!

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“Wall, it's a fact,” cried Doolittle, “I'll swear
A rover ain't contented anywhere;
But if he is a real sailor slip,
He's happiest on the hull—aboard a ship—
For there at times he has his tallest fun,
Especially if 'tis a dandy one
Where all is fine—O mateys, that's the thing!”
He raised his voice, and thus began to sing:
(While up and down he merrily did prance)
Unto the air of Dance, the Boatman, dance!