The Sailor-Boy A Poem In Four Cantos: Illustrative of the Navy of Great Britain. By W. H. Ireland. Second Edition |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
CANTO II.
|
| III. |
| IV. |
 | The Sailor-Boy |  |
46
CANTO II.
ARGUMENT.
Vices of the village.—A step-mother's malignity.—Flight discovered. —Injustice meets its due punition.—The Greenwich pensioner and his prognostic.—Richard's cot, and a sleepless night.—Breakfast, and boatswain's whistle.—Nautical tuition.—The challenge, with a pugilistic contest.—Dick victorious, yet not unmindful of mercy. —An unexpected intrusion, with the captain's admiration of our hero.—Sir E—n N—p—n, or naval merit rewarded.—Richard a Jack of all trades.—His simple narrative, and recompence.— Heaving the anchor described.—Preparations for sailing.—Getting under weigh.—The cliffs of Britain, and parting retrospection.— The farewell.—Boatswain's pipe and the whistle, an insignia of honour. —The eight bells.—Old naval tactics.—Descrying an enemy's fleet.—Clearing ship for action.—An awful moment.—The broadside. —Description of the gunner's employment.—Richard serves as a powder-monkey.—The magazine of a man of war.—Blowing up of the Boyne and Amphion.—Wounded sea-boy and the cock-pit. —The commander disabled, with two to one.—Feeling of a grateful soul.—End of the contest.—Dick's inherent tenderness. Land a-head.—Casting the anchor.—Heart of oak for ever.
47
Explorant adversa viros. Perque aspera dura
Nititur ad laudem virtus interrita clivo.
Silius Italicus.
Nititur ad laudem virtus interrita clivo.
Silius Italicus.
Adversity tries men; but virtue struggles after fame, regardless of the adverse heights.
Her theme once more the willing Muse essays,
And to the village tunes anew her lays,
But not to celebrate those rustic joys,
Which vice ne'er taints, ambition ne'er destroys;
Far diff'rent are the objects she must sing,
If harsh the notes, truth still shall strike the string;
For though great crimes attend on wealth and state.
The lowly still in sinning may be great:
Our hero's step-dame, with malignant heart,
Eager the lad should feel at school the smart,
For truant having play'd the former eve,
And sixpence squander'd without parent's leave;
Her pillow left, with rancour fell to wake
The little boy, and make his spirits quake;
The room she enter'd, when her churlish tongue
With harsh tones straight surrounding vacuum wrung,
She bade the sluggard stripling quit his bed;
But silence reign'd:—When by her anger let
To deal a blow, she to the pallet flew:
But all in vain, no Richard met her view:
She paus'd with wonder—when her thoughts anon,
Told her the fear-fraught lad from home was gone;
That, urg'd by terror, in some neighb'ring cot,
He strove to 'scape at school the destin'd lot.
When straight to Richard's sire the news was told,
With heart-felt pleasure of a vicious scold,
Anxious to view correction twofold fall
On destin'd victim of her ranc'rous gall.
Some hours ensued, but fruitless prov'd the search,
Our hero's flight had left them in the lurch;
And thus in vain expectance fled the morn,
When Richard's father, by compunction torn,
Proffer'd rewards to any village swain
Who should restore to cot his boy again:
The die was cast—the parent left to moan—
From foes and stripes the captive lad was flown.
Each passing day the parent still deplor'd,
Since fleeting time no well-belov'd restor'd;
Mem'ry then pictur'd to his woe-worn mind
Dick's dawning virtues, and the fate unkind,
Which from the dame he long had learn'd to bear,
Who now in turn the lash was doom'd to share,
Of fatal retribution for each deed,
Which oft had made the stripling's bosom bleed.
Her arts no longer could the husband lure,
His soul a wound had felt beyond all cure;
From coldness soon he ey'd her with disgust,
Then loath'd his dame, as hateful source accurs'd
Of that fell loss which now embitter'd life,
His son—fond pledge of a departed wife.
In vain her arts the cruel step-dame tries,
The pang paternal each attempt defies;
In vain her tutor'd children strive to please,
Their smiles augment disgust, but ne'er appease;
Till wearied out, and urg'd by mutual hate,
They gladly both agree to separate;
She and her offspring thenceforth doom'd to live
On such allowance as her spouse could give.
Thus ended ev'ry struggle of the dame,
Her wiles despis'd—her malice turn'd to shame;
And may such fate on her for ever tend,
Who proves the infant's foe in lieu of friend.
Meantime the father of our honest lad
Yields silent to his fate, with feelings sad,
From day to day our hero's loss bemoans,
And oft disturbs night's gloom with heavy groans,
Prays that the hour which speaks approaching death,
May yield his child, to sooth his parting breath;
On him the earnings of his life bestow,
And witness from his lips the blessings flow.
And to the village tunes anew her lays,
But not to celebrate those rustic joys,
Which vice ne'er taints, ambition ne'er destroys;
Far diff'rent are the objects she must sing,
If harsh the notes, truth still shall strike the string;
For though great crimes attend on wealth and state.
The lowly still in sinning may be great:
48
Eager the lad should feel at school the smart,
For truant having play'd the former eve,
And sixpence squander'd without parent's leave;
Her pillow left, with rancour fell to wake
The little boy, and make his spirits quake;
The room she enter'd, when her churlish tongue
With harsh tones straight surrounding vacuum wrung,
She bade the sluggard stripling quit his bed;
But silence reign'd:—When by her anger let
To deal a blow, she to the pallet flew:
But all in vain, no Richard met her view:
She paus'd with wonder—when her thoughts anon,
Told her the fear-fraught lad from home was gone;
That, urg'd by terror, in some neighb'ring cot,
He strove to 'scape at school the destin'd lot.
When straight to Richard's sire the news was told,
With heart-felt pleasure of a vicious scold,
49
On destin'd victim of her ranc'rous gall.
Some hours ensued, but fruitless prov'd the search,
Our hero's flight had left them in the lurch;
And thus in vain expectance fled the morn,
When Richard's father, by compunction torn,
Proffer'd rewards to any village swain
Who should restore to cot his boy again:
The die was cast—the parent left to moan—
From foes and stripes the captive lad was flown.
Each passing day the parent still deplor'd,
Since fleeting time no well-belov'd restor'd;
Mem'ry then pictur'd to his woe-worn mind
Dick's dawning virtues, and the fate unkind,
50
Who now in turn the lash was doom'd to share,
Of fatal retribution for each deed,
Which oft had made the stripling's bosom bleed.
Her arts no longer could the husband lure,
His soul a wound had felt beyond all cure;
From coldness soon he ey'd her with disgust,
Then loath'd his dame, as hateful source accurs'd
Of that fell loss which now embitter'd life,
His son—fond pledge of a departed wife.
In vain her arts the cruel step-dame tries,
The pang paternal each attempt defies;
In vain her tutor'd children strive to please,
Their smiles augment disgust, but ne'er appease;
Till wearied out, and urg'd by mutual hate,
They gladly both agree to separate;
51
On such allowance as her spouse could give.
Thus ended ev'ry struggle of the dame,
Her wiles despis'd—her malice turn'd to shame;
And may such fate on her for ever tend,
Who proves the infant's foe in lieu of friend.
Meantime the father of our honest lad
Yields silent to his fate, with feelings sad,
From day to day our hero's loss bemoans,
And oft disturbs night's gloom with heavy groans,
Prays that the hour which speaks approaching death,
May yield his child, to sooth his parting breath;
On him the earnings of his life bestow,
And witness from his lips the blessings flow.
The village tale here quit we for a time,
And turn to other themes the willing rhyme.
Each duty of the stripling to impart,
His prompt obedience and undaunted heart,
As in the bloody fray his panting soul
With furor burn'd, to gain Fame's glorious goal.
Yet soft, nor let us here forget to note
Our vet'ran Jack, equipt in fine blue coat,
True Greenwich Pensioner, whose toils at sea
Gave him just title to that charity:
And as with brother tars he sat to booze,
Of battles talk'd and many a famous cruize;
Still, 'midst the converse, never was forgot
The tale of Richard, and his destin'd lot;
With love paternal then our tar inflam'd,
The bright prognostics of our boy proclaim'd,
As how all those who liv'd to see the time
When little Dick should grow to manhood's prime,
Would view him to promotion quickly rise,
And by his conduct gain the hero's prize;
Which to ensure, his health was drank around,
While Jack's loud cheerings made the room resound:
Thus safely moor'd, we'll bid our tar adieu,
To Dick return, and the Achilles' crew.
Richard, whom late the sorrowing bard display'd,
In all the eloquence of grief array'd,
Tow'rd him once more the herald Muse takes wing,
O'erjoy'd anew the Sea-boy's song to sing,
And strains rehearse, that must some friends command,
The theme of nature tun'd with truth's firm hand
And turn to other themes the willing rhyme.
52
His prompt obedience and undaunted heart,
As in the bloody fray his panting soul
With furor burn'd, to gain Fame's glorious goal.
Yet soft, nor let us here forget to note
Our vet'ran Jack, equipt in fine blue coat,
True Greenwich Pensioner, whose toils at sea
Gave him just title to that charity:
And as with brother tars he sat to booze,
Of battles talk'd and many a famous cruize;
Still, 'midst the converse, never was forgot
The tale of Richard, and his destin'd lot;
With love paternal then our tar inflam'd,
The bright prognostics of our boy proclaim'd,
As how all those who liv'd to see the time
When little Dick should grow to manhood's prime,
Would view him to promotion quickly rise,
And by his conduct gain the hero's prize;
Which to ensure, his health was drank around,
While Jack's loud cheerings made the room resound:
53
To Dick return, and the Achilles' crew.
Richard, whom late the sorrowing bard display'd,
In all the eloquence of grief array'd,
Tow'rd him once more the herald Muse takes wing,
O'erjoy'd anew the Sea-boy's song to sing,
And strains rehearse, that must some friends command,
The theme of nature tun'd with truth's firm hand
Sad o'er the vessel's side the stripling hung,
While heart-felt pangs his aching bosom wrung;
Till gliding swift, the boat no more was seen,
Which bore the tar so late o'er floods of green.
As pensive still our hero hung his head,
The boatswain's shrill note pip'd all hands to bed,
When one old tar, whom Jack had left to be
The friend of Dick, now he was bound for sea,
In tones, though gruff, yet language kind, address'd
The sobbing youth, whose hand he warmly press'd,
Bade him for Jack no longer sigh and weep,
But seek a birth where he might snugly sleep;
Which counsel giv'n, our silent child of woe,
Passive obey'd, and instant went below,
Where by the sailor's kindness soon was slung
A little hammock, wherein Dick was hung,
Who vainly courted sleep:—for o'er his soul
The thoughts of Jack departed—held controul.
Nor seldom singly comes grief's poignant thrill,
One woe's the harbinger of second ill;
From thoughts of Jack his fond remembrance turn'd
To grief paternal—and his bosom yearn'd;
For mem'ry then of private ills was 'reft,
His mind's eye dwelt upon a parent left,
Whose soul relenting, and o'erfraught with pain,
E'en then, perchance, on Richard call'd in vain:
Thus restless roll'd away each lagging hour,
Till worn-out nature own'd sleep's balmy pow'r,
The stripling thus by lulling Somnus bless'd,
Obedient yielded to the willing guest;
Laying entranc'd, till boatswain pip'd anew,
The breakfast summons to the jovial crew;
Our youth beside the friendly tar then sat,
And of his morning's meal but little ate,
Strove from his thoughts dark sadness to efface,
And with bright smiles array his pretty face.
The meal concluded, strait the gen'rous tar
Gan Dick instruct about a man of war.
Which was the mizen, foremast, and the main,
Stem, stern, fore-aft, with ease he could retain;
Next dwelt on starboard and the larboard side,
Forecastle, quarter, and the main-deck wide;
Pointed the anchor, cable, capstan out,
Compass and rudder, to steer ship about;
Gang, hatchways, poop, tops, bowsprit, shrouds, and sails;
Yards, halliards, blocks, and for the furling brails.
Head-ropes, clue-garnets, bow, and clue-lines too;
Lifts, roebins, ear-rings, backstays, to subdue
Rude Boreas, when in angry rage he blows:
The spilling-lines in tempests to oppose,
And the o'erswelling bosom'd sail confine;
Braces and top-ropes, reef-band and reef-line;
The rolling-tackle, travellers, and jears,
With parrel to hold yard in as wind veers;
Head-rope, whereto the swelling sail is sew'd,
And topping-lift to mizen-yard fast clew'd;
On these, and many more such themes he dwelt,
Till Dick the nautical instruction felt;
And ere one week an answer prompt disclos'd,
To ev'ry question by the tar propos'd.
It happ'd a sea-boy, older than our Dick,
Was then on board, who oft would quarrels pick,
With youngsters unaccustom'd to the trade,
O'er whom he hector'd, and would be obey'd.
One morn as Richard 'gan the shrouds ascend,
This upstart stripling, eager to contend,
With nimble speed left Richard far behind,
And jeer'd him when aloft with taunts unkind,
That he, a mean land-lubber, dar'd not show
His head aloft, but coward sculk'd below.
Whereat the little lad indignant burn'd,
And thus the contumelious threat return'd:
“When I, like you, have two years been on board,
“We'll see who then shall proudly dare to lord.”
“D---mme, another word!” the braggart cried,
“And I will soundly lace thy lubber's hide.”
“'Tis easy said,” quoth Dick, “but at that fun
“Two lads can talk, you know, as well as one.”
Like lightning, to the deck they darted down,
Two game-cocks, eager for the victor's crown,
Their jackets and check-shirts were thrown away,
While each his second had, to see fair play;
And though no Hector and Achilles fought,
With equal fire their little souls were fraught;
True was the stroke, each aim right sure and slow,
And firm clench'd fists, like lightning dealt the blow;
Thrice on the deck had measur'd Dick his length,
And thrice his foe o'ercome by Richard's strength,
They stood like heroes who disdain to yield,
And though exhausted, spurn to quit the field;
Thus, pois'd in air, the balance doubtful hung,
When Richard's heart, by vigor newly strung,
Darted like thunder-bolt upon his foe,
And claim'd the laurel by one desp'rate blow.
Stretch'd lay the vanquish'd; while the victor cried,
“I did not dare him—for 'twas he defied:”
Then gave his hand, in hopes that broils would cease,
And change war's iron sword for palm of peace.
Loud shouts resounded, for the gen'ral cry
Crown'd little Dick with wreath of victory;
Who, with nose reeking, and hands crimson dy'd,
Far from enjoying by the conquest pride,
Lent kind assistance to his prostrate foe,
And drown'd in tears the mem'ry of each blow.
While heart-felt pangs his aching bosom wrung;
Till gliding swift, the boat no more was seen,
Which bore the tar so late o'er floods of green.
As pensive still our hero hung his head,
The boatswain's shrill note pip'd all hands to bed,
54
The friend of Dick, now he was bound for sea,
In tones, though gruff, yet language kind, address'd
The sobbing youth, whose hand he warmly press'd,
Bade him for Jack no longer sigh and weep,
But seek a birth where he might snugly sleep;
Which counsel giv'n, our silent child of woe,
Passive obey'd, and instant went below,
Where by the sailor's kindness soon was slung
A little hammock, wherein Dick was hung,
Who vainly courted sleep:—for o'er his soul
The thoughts of Jack departed—held controul.
Nor seldom singly comes grief's poignant thrill,
One woe's the harbinger of second ill;
From thoughts of Jack his fond remembrance turn'd
To grief paternal—and his bosom yearn'd;
For mem'ry then of private ills was 'reft,
His mind's eye dwelt upon a parent left,
Whose soul relenting, and o'erfraught with pain,
E'en then, perchance, on Richard call'd in vain:
55
Till worn-out nature own'd sleep's balmy pow'r,
The stripling thus by lulling Somnus bless'd,
Obedient yielded to the willing guest;
Laying entranc'd, till boatswain pip'd anew,
The breakfast summons to the jovial crew;
Our youth beside the friendly tar then sat,
And of his morning's meal but little ate,
Strove from his thoughts dark sadness to efface,
And with bright smiles array his pretty face.
The meal concluded, strait the gen'rous tar
Gan Dick instruct about a man of war.
Which was the mizen, foremast, and the main,
Stem, stern, fore-aft, with ease he could retain;
56
Forecastle, quarter, and the main-deck wide;
Pointed the anchor, cable, capstan out,
Compass and rudder, to steer ship about;
57
Yards, halliards, blocks, and for the furling brails.
58
Lifts, roebins, ear-rings, backstays, to subdue
59
The spilling-lines in tempests to oppose,
And the o'erswelling bosom'd sail confine;
Braces and top-ropes, reef-band and reef-line;
60
With parrel to hold yard in as wind veers;
Head-rope, whereto the swelling sail is sew'd,
And topping-lift to mizen-yard fast clew'd;
On these, and many more such themes he dwelt,
Till Dick the nautical instruction felt;
And ere one week an answer prompt disclos'd,
To ev'ry question by the tar propos'd.
61
Was then on board, who oft would quarrels pick,
With youngsters unaccustom'd to the trade,
O'er whom he hector'd, and would be obey'd.
One morn as Richard 'gan the shrouds ascend,
This upstart stripling, eager to contend,
With nimble speed left Richard far behind,
And jeer'd him when aloft with taunts unkind,
That he, a mean land-lubber, dar'd not show
His head aloft, but coward sculk'd below.
Whereat the little lad indignant burn'd,
And thus the contumelious threat return'd:
“When I, like you, have two years been on board,
“We'll see who then shall proudly dare to lord.”
“D---mme, another word!” the braggart cried,
“And I will soundly lace thy lubber's hide.”
“'Tis easy said,” quoth Dick, “but at that fun
“Two lads can talk, you know, as well as one.”
Like lightning, to the deck they darted down,
Two game-cocks, eager for the victor's crown,
62
While each his second had, to see fair play;
And though no Hector and Achilles fought,
With equal fire their little souls were fraught;
True was the stroke, each aim right sure and slow,
And firm clench'd fists, like lightning dealt the blow;
Thrice on the deck had measur'd Dick his length,
And thrice his foe o'ercome by Richard's strength,
They stood like heroes who disdain to yield,
And though exhausted, spurn to quit the field;
Thus, pois'd in air, the balance doubtful hung,
When Richard's heart, by vigor newly strung,
Darted like thunder-bolt upon his foe,
And claim'd the laurel by one desp'rate blow.
63
“I did not dare him—for 'twas he defied:”
Then gave his hand, in hopes that broils would cease,
And change war's iron sword for palm of peace.
Loud shouts resounded, for the gen'ral cry
Crown'd little Dick with wreath of victory;
Who, with nose reeking, and hands crimson dy'd,
Far from enjoying by the conquest pride,
Lent kind assistance to his prostrate foe,
And drown'd in tears the mem'ry of each blow.
Fate will'd it so—Achilles' captain then
From cabin came, who hearing thus his men
With acclamations rend the ambient air,
Sought to discover what was acting there;
And though commanders rarely will appear
From off their deck—he still approach'd to hear,
And ascertain himself the very cause
That urg'd his crew to send forth such applause:
He gain'd the spot—the combatants he saw—
While the surrounding tars shrunk back with awe;
First on the vanquish'd stripling bent his gaze,
Next on the victor, source of all this praise,
Who on one knee supported, staunch'd the blood,
Which from his foe then gush'd in crimson flood.
Strongly impell'd by such a feeling sight,
At his command was straight detail'd the fight,
From first to last, nor was that praise reserv'd,
Which tenderness and courage well deserv'd,
Since Dick, though youngest, had not flinch'd to meet
His foe, who conquer'd, he could kindly treat.
The brave commander silent heard the whole,
And saw the hero in a stripling's soul;
That very lad whom he so late had ta'en
From Jack, to try his fortune on the main.
With look applauding he our boy survey'd,
An infant Mars by charity array'd;
And though his innate plaudits were retain'd,
Rememb'rance still indelibly remain'd.
Silent one shilling to the boy he threw,
And full of thought, with folded arms withdrew,
On Dick determin'd wary eye to keep,
That, if deserving, merit should not sleep;
And so resolv'd he thenceforth would employ
Our little Richard for his chosen boy.
Nor be the theme of sailor lad despis'd,
Conduct, not titles, makes the seaman priz'd;
'Twas this first prompted the late gallant Reid,
On board his ship the sailor youth to heed,
N---p---n, a boy of Galatea's crew,
Whose shining merits brought his worth in view;
Which gen'rous patronage at length procur'd
That wealth and title he has since ensur'd.
Dick to his post inducted, strove amain,
When ev'ry action serv'd but to sustain
That good opinion he had late inspir'd,
When by his brave commander first admir'd.
By perseverance, Dick, ere long, endued
With nimble feet, the shrouds courageous clew'd;
No thought of dread appall'd his soul with fright,
His steady brain defied the madd'ning height;
To gain the pennant, his aspiring soul
Mounts ev'ry top, nor skulks through lubbers' hole,
And at top-gallant-mast fast clinging, rears
Aloft his hat, and gives aloud three cheers:
Then, like swift lightning, he disdains all check,
And lands the ship's true Mercury on deck.
Our youth still more by ev'ry tar was lov'd,
To whom he oft amanuensis prov'd;
All letters sent for them he'd willing read,
Whether from wife or sweetheart—and, when need
Call'd for reply, he'd soon produce the scrip,
And show the neatness of his penmanship;
By winning gentleness, and deeds thus kind,
By conduct, courage, comprehensive mind,
Throughout the ship was spread our hero's fame,
And nought but goodness coupled with his name.
And though aloud his chief did not caress,
His silence prov'd not that he felt the less,
Staunch was the captain, in whose manly soul
Friendship stood fix'd, as needle to the pole.
Two months our Richard now had been on board,
His brain with practical instruction stor'd,
When he one morn, on wings obedient sped,
By first-lieutenant hail'd, who forthwith led
To captain's cabin our heroic child,
When thus bespoke him his commander mild:
“Cheer up, my boy, nor droop thine head with fear,
“Let me forthwith thy simple story hear;
“Who were thy parents? whence thou cam'st? when late
“From Jack I took compassion on thy fate.”
With modest diffidence, our stripling youth
Candid rehears'd th' unvarnish'd tale of truth,
And as each incident the child confess'd,
Redoubled int'rest thrill'd his hearer's breast;
Who straight dismiss'd him with approving voice,
And commendations for his naval choice.
Auspicious thus began the youth's career,
Who now was doom'd Bellona's voice to hear.
The sailing orders came—the gallant fleet,
Commanded thus old England's foes to meet;
Each heart swell'd high—nor did young Richard fail,
Who felt a Briton's glow his breast assail;
That fire enthusiastic—inborn sway—
Which gilds the hero's path with glory's ray.
Now through the East the matin radiance glows,
And brisk the gale from point auspicious blows;
Each bulky war-ship rock'd by Neptune's waves,
Now stem—now stern in briny expanse laves;
From ev'ry bark the boatswain's pipes sound shrill,
Then flocks each crew obedient to his will;
Throughout the fleet the busy hum is heard,
Bustle prevails—“Heave anchor is the word.”
In capstern straight is plac'd each pond'rous bar,
Yeo yeo's the cry of many a gallant tar,
Whose nervous strength conjoin'd, the engine turns,
The paul resounds, the well taught cable yearns;
While slow the messenger round capstern moves,
Indenting on its roller shining grooves.
The anchor now right up and down —a throng,
Forthwith obedient to the well-known song,
Spring up aloft, the tackle instant seize,
Set gib and fore-stay to the ambient breeze.
Now heav'd at length from out its sandy bed,
The anchor slowly moves its iron head;
When straight the order's heard that swells the gale,
“Sheet home, my lads—sheet home the fore-topsail.
While tars, all thoughts of labour to bereave,
Cry, heave away! heave at the windlass, heave!
Heave at the capstern, boys! and thus they sing,
Till from the flood emerges the huge ring.
Down instant leaps a vet'ran tar expert,
Upon the anchor's stock—and there alert
Through the ring passes the fish-tackle straight,
Then “bowse away,” resounds, with voice elate,
And tugging hard, while singing out such lays;
The massive weight they to the cathead raise,
Then the shank-painter place the fluke around,
When fish'd and catted, soon the anchor's found;
Whilst other seamen busied with their toil,
The cable snugly in the orlop coil.
The war-ship thus from hempen bondage free,
In lordly motion rides towards main sea,
While sails expand their milky bosoms wide,
Which, kiss'd by Boreas, swell in graceful pride.
With heart exulting, Richard looks around,
Surveys high heav'n, then eyes the flood profound;
And as in distance fade the British shores,
That throne of Freedom, where proud Neptune roars,
Like guardian lion, threat'ning ev'ry band
That fain would wrench the sceptre from her hand!
He eyes the craggy cliffs of varied hue,
Black greeny furze, brown earth and slaty blue,
The grey, the yellow, and the marly white;
With sorrow thrill'd at the receding sight.
There dwells a father living—there too lies
Entomb'd a mother, and to these fond eyes
Both may be lost—for, buried in the deep,
Is scarf'd all thought, in death's eternal sleep:
No—not for ever—since the hour of rest
Shall come, when I may live among the blest;
With them the raptures of pure angels share,
Since all are creatures of God's fostering care.
Thus argued Dick—when waken'd by the sound
Of busy tars, he bent his gaze around;
Blush'd to avow the grief he felt so late,
When thousands were expos'd to share his fate.
Farewell, my native land, our hero sigh'd,
Tho' carnage threatens, and tho' floods divide,
Bright fancy to the last shall have full scope,
And deck fond mem'ry in the robes of hope.
From cabin came, who hearing thus his men
With acclamations rend the ambient air,
Sought to discover what was acting there;
And though commanders rarely will appear
From off their deck—he still approach'd to hear,
64
That urg'd his crew to send forth such applause:
He gain'd the spot—the combatants he saw—
While the surrounding tars shrunk back with awe;
First on the vanquish'd stripling bent his gaze,
Next on the victor, source of all this praise,
Who on one knee supported, staunch'd the blood,
Which from his foe then gush'd in crimson flood.
Strongly impell'd by such a feeling sight,
At his command was straight detail'd the fight,
From first to last, nor was that praise reserv'd,
Which tenderness and courage well deserv'd,
Since Dick, though youngest, had not flinch'd to meet
His foe, who conquer'd, he could kindly treat.
The brave commander silent heard the whole,
And saw the hero in a stripling's soul;
That very lad whom he so late had ta'en
From Jack, to try his fortune on the main.
With look applauding he our boy survey'd,
An infant Mars by charity array'd;
65
Rememb'rance still indelibly remain'd.
Silent one shilling to the boy he threw,
And full of thought, with folded arms withdrew,
On Dick determin'd wary eye to keep,
That, if deserving, merit should not sleep;
And so resolv'd he thenceforth would employ
Our little Richard for his chosen boy.
Nor be the theme of sailor lad despis'd,
Conduct, not titles, makes the seaman priz'd;
'Twas this first prompted the late gallant Reid,
On board his ship the sailor youth to heed,
N---p---n, a boy of Galatea's crew,
Whose shining merits brought his worth in view;
66
That wealth and title he has since ensur'd.
Dick to his post inducted, strove amain,
When ev'ry action serv'd but to sustain
That good opinion he had late inspir'd,
When by his brave commander first admir'd.
By perseverance, Dick, ere long, endued
With nimble feet, the shrouds courageous clew'd;
No thought of dread appall'd his soul with fright,
His steady brain defied the madd'ning height;
To gain the pennant, his aspiring soul
Mounts ev'ry top, nor skulks through lubbers' hole,
67
Aloft his hat, and gives aloud three cheers:
Then, like swift lightning, he disdains all check,
And lands the ship's true Mercury on deck.
Our youth still more by ev'ry tar was lov'd,
To whom he oft amanuensis prov'd;
All letters sent for them he'd willing read,
Whether from wife or sweetheart—and, when need
Call'd for reply, he'd soon produce the scrip,
And show the neatness of his penmanship;
By winning gentleness, and deeds thus kind,
By conduct, courage, comprehensive mind,
Throughout the ship was spread our hero's fame,
And nought but goodness coupled with his name.
And though aloud his chief did not caress,
His silence prov'd not that he felt the less,
Staunch was the captain, in whose manly soul
Friendship stood fix'd, as needle to the pole.
Two months our Richard now had been on board,
His brain with practical instruction stor'd,
68
By first-lieutenant hail'd, who forthwith led
To captain's cabin our heroic child,
When thus bespoke him his commander mild:
“Cheer up, my boy, nor droop thine head with fear,
“Let me forthwith thy simple story hear;
“Who were thy parents? whence thou cam'st? when late
“From Jack I took compassion on thy fate.”
With modest diffidence, our stripling youth
Candid rehears'd th' unvarnish'd tale of truth,
And as each incident the child confess'd,
Redoubled int'rest thrill'd his hearer's breast;
Who straight dismiss'd him with approving voice,
And commendations for his naval choice.
69
Who now was doom'd Bellona's voice to hear.
The sailing orders came—the gallant fleet,
Commanded thus old England's foes to meet;
Each heart swell'd high—nor did young Richard fail,
Who felt a Briton's glow his breast assail;
That fire enthusiastic—inborn sway—
Which gilds the hero's path with glory's ray.
Now through the East the matin radiance glows,
And brisk the gale from point auspicious blows;
Each bulky war-ship rock'd by Neptune's waves,
Now stem—now stern in briny expanse laves;
From ev'ry bark the boatswain's pipes sound shrill,
Then flocks each crew obedient to his will;
Throughout the fleet the busy hum is heard,
Bustle prevails—“Heave anchor is the word.”
In capstern straight is plac'd each pond'rous bar,
Yeo yeo's the cry of many a gallant tar,
70
The paul resounds, the well taught cable yearns;
While slow the messenger round capstern moves,
Indenting on its roller shining grooves.
The anchor now right up and down —a throng,
Forthwith obedient to the well-known song,
Spring up aloft, the tackle instant seize,
Set gib and fore-stay to the ambient breeze.
Now heav'd at length from out its sandy bed,
The anchor slowly moves its iron head;
71
“Sheet home, my lads—sheet home the fore-topsail.
While tars, all thoughts of labour to bereave,
Cry, heave away! heave at the windlass, heave!
Heave at the capstern, boys! and thus they sing,
Till from the flood emerges the huge ring.
Down instant leaps a vet'ran tar expert,
Upon the anchor's stock—and there alert
Through the ring passes the fish-tackle straight,
Then “bowse away,” resounds, with voice elate,
And tugging hard, while singing out such lays;
The massive weight they to the cathead raise,
72
When fish'd and catted, soon the anchor's found;
Whilst other seamen busied with their toil,
The cable snugly in the orlop coil.
The war-ship thus from hempen bondage free,
In lordly motion rides towards main sea,
While sails expand their milky bosoms wide,
Which, kiss'd by Boreas, swell in graceful pride.
With heart exulting, Richard looks around,
Surveys high heav'n, then eyes the flood profound;
And as in distance fade the British shores,
That throne of Freedom, where proud Neptune roars,
Like guardian lion, threat'ning ev'ry band
That fain would wrench the sceptre from her hand!
73
Black greeny furze, brown earth and slaty blue,
The grey, the yellow, and the marly white;
With sorrow thrill'd at the receding sight.
There dwells a father living—there too lies
Entomb'd a mother, and to these fond eyes
Both may be lost—for, buried in the deep,
Is scarf'd all thought, in death's eternal sleep:
No—not for ever—since the hour of rest
Shall come, when I may live among the blest;
With them the raptures of pure angels share,
Since all are creatures of God's fostering care.
Thus argued Dick—when waken'd by the sound
Of busy tars, he bent his gaze around;
74
When thousands were expos'd to share his fate.
Farewell, my native land, our hero sigh'd,
Tho' carnage threatens, and tho' floods divide,
Bright fancy to the last shall have full scope,
And deck fond mem'ry in the robes of hope.
Saint Helen's made, and, fading on the sight,
Soon the Achilles clear'd the Isle of Wight;
And still, urg'd by a brisk and fav'ring gale,
The steady captain ordered press of sail;
When from each yard down fell the canvas glib,
And straight were set main, mizen-sails, and jib;
Whose pliant bosoms curving to the gale,
Left Albion's cliffs obscur'd in filmy veil.
Elate with joy at this unwonted scene,
Smiles animate our little Sea-Boy's mien;
Eager to prove the love he bears the main,
Duty can scarce his eager hands restrain,
On ev'ry side example meets his view,
The stripling Dick would fain be vet'ran too;
Forth from his dark blue eyes, then sparkling bright,
Beams eager animation's radiant light.
As tars oft passing, by affection led,
Exclaim, “That's well, my lad,” and pat his head;
While full nine knots an hour they plough the stream,
Impell'd by fav'ring wind abaft the beam.
Soon the Achilles clear'd the Isle of Wight;
And still, urg'd by a brisk and fav'ring gale,
The steady captain ordered press of sail;
When from each yard down fell the canvas glib,
And straight were set main, mizen-sails, and jib;
Whose pliant bosoms curving to the gale,
Left Albion's cliffs obscur'd in filmy veil.
75
Smiles animate our little Sea-Boy's mien;
Eager to prove the love he bears the main,
Duty can scarce his eager hands restrain,
On ev'ry side example meets his view,
The stripling Dick would fain be vet'ran too;
Forth from his dark blue eyes, then sparkling bright,
Beams eager animation's radiant light.
As tars oft passing, by affection led,
Exclaim, “That's well, my lad,” and pat his head;
While full nine knots an hour they plough the stream,
Impell'd by fav'ring wind abaft the beam.
Proud to acquire instruction ev'ry hour,
Richard with joy essays his mental pow'r;
Each day affords his penetration food,
By him commands are instant understood;
The duty of the ship he knows so well,
Ere orders giv'n, he'll oft the order tell.
Sometimes delighted will his bosom feel,
To hear each summons for the welcome meal;
When morn's repast proclaims the boatswain's mate,
His loud pipes echoing at the hour of eight;
Again, as all hands the command obey,
When call to mess is pip'd just at mid-day;
Or when o'erburthen'd clouds their show'rs distil,
Down hammocks, straight ordains his call so shrill.
And if the captain comes in stately pride,
On board his ship, while sailors man the side,
The boatswain then in person pipes amain,
While breezes widely waft the echoing strain.
Richard with joy essays his mental pow'r;
Each day affords his penetration food,
By him commands are instant understood;
The duty of the ship he knows so well,
Ere orders giv'n, he'll oft the order tell.
76
To hear each summons for the welcome meal;
When morn's repast proclaims the boatswain's mate,
His loud pipes echoing at the hour of eight;
Again, as all hands the command obey,
When call to mess is pip'd just at mid-day;
Or when o'erburthen'd clouds their show'rs distil,
Down hammocks, straight ordains his call so shrill.
And if the captain comes in stately pride,
On board his ship, while sailors man the side,
The boatswain then in person pipes amain,
While breezes widely waft the echoing strain.
Nor be disdain'd the boatswain's symbol shrill,
Which erst proclaim'd a noble chieftain's will;
Witness, when Howard bore the admiral's crest,
With golden whistle pendant at his breast;
Nor less his foe the pirate Barton knew
The boatswain's call—who when expiring blew
This engine—charging still his gallant troop,
To fight undaunted, nor let courage droop.
Which erst proclaim'd a noble chieftain's will;
77
With golden whistle pendant at his breast;
Nor less his foe the pirate Barton knew
The boatswain's call—who when expiring blew
This engine—charging still his gallant troop,
To fight undaunted, nor let courage droop.
But if our Dick would oft attention lend
To boatswain's pipe—no less was he the friend,
Of tones that note the fleeting hours of day,
And rouse night's dullness to the echoing lay.
Now fix'd the quarter-master bends his view
On sand in hour-glass, noting time so true,
And greets the mid-day with successive knells,
Striking the eight reverberating bells:
Next half hour sounds one chime, and so till four,
Each thirty minutes add one knell the more,
By which eight bells resound again complete,
That chimes anew, each jovial tar to greet.
At half past four one bell begins anew,
That son'rous echo's to the bustling crew,
Which lasts till earth, by evening's dusk o'erhung,
Speaks eight o'clock, when eight bells more are rung.
And now the first watch set, the tars divide,
One half to hammocks—half the ship to guide;
Lieutenant, midshipman, on deck then stand,
To mark her course, while sailors wait command;
Till with each half hour, by the chimes' increase,
Eight bells at midnight struck, the watch must cease;
When officers and men descend below,
While those, till then at rest, on deck must go:
Concluding thrice the eight bells' jocund chime,
That fills of day and night twelve hours of time.
To boatswain's pipe—no less was he the friend,
78
And rouse night's dullness to the echoing lay.
Now fix'd the quarter-master bends his view
On sand in hour-glass, noting time so true,
And greets the mid-day with successive knells,
Striking the eight reverberating bells:
Next half hour sounds one chime, and so till four,
Each thirty minutes add one knell the more,
By which eight bells resound again complete,
That chimes anew, each jovial tar to greet.
At half past four one bell begins anew,
That son'rous echo's to the bustling crew,
Which lasts till earth, by evening's dusk o'erhung,
Speaks eight o'clock, when eight bells more are rung.
And now the first watch set, the tars divide,
One half to hammocks—half the ship to guide;
Lieutenant, midshipman, on deck then stand,
To mark her course, while sailors wait command;
Till with each half hour, by the chimes' increase,
Eight bells at midnight struck, the watch must cease;
79
While those, till then at rest, on deck must go:
Concluding thrice the eight bells' jocund chime,
That fills of day and night twelve hours of time.
Up channel cruizes thus th' unconquer'd fleet,
Eager the foes of Britain's realm to meet,
That wat'ry expanse, restless, buoyant, green,
Of sanguinary contests oft the scene;
Where, in past ages, sons of vengeful Gaul,
Oppos'd to Britons, suffer'd the downfall;
Where bold De Burgh, combining art with skill,
Made twice his force obedient to his will:
He who with system first rang'd ships for fight,
Making with valour tactics, too, unite,
Proving that few, when taught by wisdom's bland,
Can wrench the palm from a gigantic band.
Eager the foes of Britain's realm to meet,
That wat'ry expanse, restless, buoyant, green,
Of sanguinary contests oft the scene;
Where, in past ages, sons of vengeful Gaul,
Oppos'd to Britons, suffer'd the downfall;
Where bold De Burgh, combining art with skill,
Made twice his force obedient to his will:
80
Making with valour tactics, too, unite,
Proving that few, when taught by wisdom's bland,
Can wrench the palm from a gigantic band.
Week still succeeding week, our boy inspir'd,
With ardor for the fray so much desir'd,
Now burn'd to hear the hydras of our land,
From out their iron throats hurl fell command,
Once more to humble Gaul's aspiring head,
And drive presumption to dishonour's bed.
Nor did expectancy long mock his hope,
The moment came that gave our lions scope;
When British valour, crown'd with wreaths of fame,
Sign'd the pale record of great Gallia's shame.
Blest be the dawn when, in the offing wide,
The sail ahead our seamen first descried;
Signal like lightning—signal straight returns,
And each ship's crew with equal ardor burns.
Dick, ever watchful, at the first surprise
Springs from his birth, and soon, with glist'ning eyes,
Afar the source of all this tumult views,
And joins his plaudits at the welcome news.
Aurora now expands her Tyrian robe,
While Sol, engirdling confines of the globe,
Crowns wide with lustrous rays th' horizon's line,
And beams to Albion's host—a morn divine.
Eager for fight, the tars set ev'ry sail,
And crowd each stick of canvas to the gale;
With mutual wish, as thus the fleets advance,
Fresh sails are seen to swell the force of France.
While tars, in cool arithmetic employ'd,
Jocosely note what captur'd and destroy'd,
Ere night's return shall recompense their toil,
And plant fresh laurels on Britannia's soil.
Advancing still, each side on battle bent,
Throughout the fleets resounds the fell intent;
Dread bustle meets on ev'ry side the eye,
Clear ship for action, lads—clear ship's! the cry:
All hammocks up! the boatswain pipes elate,
Which seamen stow within the nettings straight;
Such energies displaying to make clear,
No vestige soon upon the decks appear;
All is from stem to stern smack, smooth, and clean,
Not one obstructing object to be seen.
Straight to the wheel forecastlemen proceed,
The quarter-master's orders there to heed,
Who in his turn the master's word obeys,
As he to them the captain's will conveys;
While other tars, quite steady, watchful stand,
To mount and trim the sails upon command;
Plac'd at their sev'ral ports the men are seen,
While cool determination marks each mien,
Breathless they wait, to catch the wish'd for sound,
The word—to fire—and make the spheres rebound:
Of dread suspense, thus reign'd the silence dire,
Precursor fell of murd'rous cannons' fire.
And as each bulky war-ship, rock'd in pride,
Her teeth were bravely shewn on either side,
Bereft of tompions, that she thus might meet,
With challenge dauntless, for the bloody feat.
Staunch stands the gunner at his dreadful post,
And stern awaits the fire of adverse host;
His arm quite bar'd, the tough set sinews shows,
While in his hand the fatal match then glows.
The hellish engines, thrust through every port,
With gaping jaws proclaim death's rueful sport.
The gunner's touch electric, they await,
To hurl forth iron messengers of fate;
Those winged orbs, that whiz through air's vast field,
And perforate with ease the oaken shield;
This fatal pause inspir'd an awful thrill,
And Richard's courage own'd its potent will.
He ne'er before expectant thus had stood,
To witness crimson tides of human blood;
Nor be those braggart tongues believ'd, that swear
They laugh at contests, and the bullets dare;
'Tis this chill moment of suspense imparts
A taint of weakness to the stoutest hearts:
Still all is mute—when, lo! a rattling sound,
Like belching Ætna, thunders wide around;
The flash, the din, the whistling balls are heard,
The foe salutes—a broadside is the word:
Scarce was the signal by the captain giv'n,
Ere th' Achilles' iron peal wrung heav'n,
As when in scorching Leo some dark cloud
Hangs o'er the sultry earth a pendant shroud,
Till quite o'ercharged, th' electric fire long pent,
Its cov'ring bursts, and gives dread thunder vent;
Thus hurling bolts, that make earth's centre quake,
Such prov'd the din—so did th' Achilles shake.
The gun thus fir'd, within its brazen bore
Is ramm'd the spunge, then reeking, to explore
Its smoking tube, all lagging fire to drench,
While stopp'd the touch-hole, every spark they quench;
Anon recharg'd, the gunner primes anew,
Then runs her out, the foe's ship to subdue;
Fore or abaft the beam, as need requires,
The muzzle pointed, deal its murd'rous fires;
Which dread explosion o'er, she back recoils,
And forces hard the breeching's bounding toils;
And while thus retrograde her trucks harsh run,
“Stand clear,” the seaman cries, “Stand clear the gun.”
With toil incessant, soon the sailor glows,
As down his limbs the perspiration flows;
While smoke then mingling with the briny dew,
Anoints his limbs with reeking sooty hue;
When, to allay of husky thirst the pain,
He'll oft of fighting-water drink amain:
Of grog bereft, for should he wounded fall,
Fever awaits not then the stroke of ball.
With ardor for the fray so much desir'd,
Now burn'd to hear the hydras of our land,
From out their iron throats hurl fell command,
Once more to humble Gaul's aspiring head,
And drive presumption to dishonour's bed.
Nor did expectancy long mock his hope,
The moment came that gave our lions scope;
When British valour, crown'd with wreaths of fame,
Sign'd the pale record of great Gallia's shame.
81
The sail ahead our seamen first descried;
Signal like lightning—signal straight returns,
And each ship's crew with equal ardor burns.
Dick, ever watchful, at the first surprise
Springs from his birth, and soon, with glist'ning eyes,
Afar the source of all this tumult views,
And joins his plaudits at the welcome news.
Aurora now expands her Tyrian robe,
While Sol, engirdling confines of the globe,
Crowns wide with lustrous rays th' horizon's line,
And beams to Albion's host—a morn divine.
Eager for fight, the tars set ev'ry sail,
And crowd each stick of canvas to the gale;
With mutual wish, as thus the fleets advance,
Fresh sails are seen to swell the force of France.
While tars, in cool arithmetic employ'd,
Jocosely note what captur'd and destroy'd,
82
And plant fresh laurels on Britannia's soil.
Advancing still, each side on battle bent,
Throughout the fleets resounds the fell intent;
Dread bustle meets on ev'ry side the eye,
Clear ship for action, lads—clear ship's! the cry:
All hammocks up! the boatswain pipes elate,
Which seamen stow within the nettings straight;
Such energies displaying to make clear,
No vestige soon upon the decks appear;
All is from stem to stern smack, smooth, and clean,
Not one obstructing object to be seen.
Straight to the wheel forecastlemen proceed,
The quarter-master's orders there to heed,
Who in his turn the master's word obeys,
As he to them the captain's will conveys;
83
To mount and trim the sails upon command;
Plac'd at their sev'ral ports the men are seen,
While cool determination marks each mien,
Breathless they wait, to catch the wish'd for sound,
The word—to fire—and make the spheres rebound:
Of dread suspense, thus reign'd the silence dire,
Precursor fell of murd'rous cannons' fire.
And as each bulky war-ship, rock'd in pride,
Her teeth were bravely shewn on either side,
Bereft of tompions, that she thus might meet,
With challenge dauntless, for the bloody feat.
Staunch stands the gunner at his dreadful post,
And stern awaits the fire of adverse host;
His arm quite bar'd, the tough set sinews shows,
While in his hand the fatal match then glows.
84
With gaping jaws proclaim death's rueful sport.
The gunner's touch electric, they await,
To hurl forth iron messengers of fate;
Those winged orbs, that whiz through air's vast field,
And perforate with ease the oaken shield;
This fatal pause inspir'd an awful thrill,
And Richard's courage own'd its potent will.
He ne'er before expectant thus had stood,
To witness crimson tides of human blood;
Nor be those braggart tongues believ'd, that swear
They laugh at contests, and the bullets dare;
'Tis this chill moment of suspense imparts
A taint of weakness to the stoutest hearts:
Still all is mute—when, lo! a rattling sound,
Like belching Ætna, thunders wide around;
85
The foe salutes—a broadside is the word:
Scarce was the signal by the captain giv'n,
Ere th' Achilles' iron peal wrung heav'n,
As when in scorching Leo some dark cloud
Hangs o'er the sultry earth a pendant shroud,
Till quite o'ercharged, th' electric fire long pent,
Its cov'ring bursts, and gives dread thunder vent;
Thus hurling bolts, that make earth's centre quake,
Such prov'd the din—so did th' Achilles shake.
The gun thus fir'd, within its brazen bore
Is ramm'd the spunge, then reeking, to explore
Its smoking tube, all lagging fire to drench,
While stopp'd the touch-hole, every spark they quench;
Anon recharg'd, the gunner primes anew,
Then runs her out, the foe's ship to subdue;
Fore or abaft the beam, as need requires,
The muzzle pointed, deal its murd'rous fires;
Which dread explosion o'er, she back recoils,
And forces hard the breeching's bounding toils;
86
“Stand clear,” the seaman cries, “Stand clear the gun.”
With toil incessant, soon the sailor glows,
As down his limbs the perspiration flows;
While smoke then mingling with the briny dew,
Anoints his limbs with reeking sooty hue;
When, to allay of husky thirst the pain,
He'll oft of fighting-water drink amain:
Of grog bereft, for should he wounded fall,
Fever awaits not then the stroke of ball.
Dick, stunn'd by noise—each object scarf'd in smoke—
All fear despis'd; true valour then had scope,
To act his part, with nimble speed he flew,
No dread deterr'd—for glory was in view.
On quarter-deck, and 'neath the captain's eye,
A powder-monkey's post his destiny;
The labour he pursued with ceaseless toil,
His mind collected 'midst the thund'ring broil,
From cannon down to magazine he'd speed,
And thence return, the roaring gun to feed;
Such ardor showing in the glorious cause,
He gain'd still more his captain's fond applause.
On duty thus the willing stripling bent,
Full oft below to that foul store-house went,
Of cannons' food, the mansion dark and fell,
Fit region for Satanic fiends of hell;
Where safely cas'd, the light in lanthorns stow'd,
Which gleams on this combustible abode;
The master there at arms, cool vet'ran stands,
With the ship's corporal, to give commands;
As gunner's mates bear cartridges without,
To sailors station'd, a cool sober rout,
Whose hands the dreadful burthen forthwith place
Within the powder-monkey's wooden case,
O'er which anon he claps the lid to run,
And waft the ammunition to his gun.
All fear despis'd; true valour then had scope,
To act his part, with nimble speed he flew,
No dread deterr'd—for glory was in view.
87
A powder-monkey's post his destiny;
The labour he pursued with ceaseless toil,
His mind collected 'midst the thund'ring broil,
From cannon down to magazine he'd speed,
And thence return, the roaring gun to feed;
Such ardor showing in the glorious cause,
He gain'd still more his captain's fond applause.
On duty thus the willing stripling bent,
Full oft below to that foul store-house went,
Of cannons' food, the mansion dark and fell,
Fit region for Satanic fiends of hell;
Where safely cas'd, the light in lanthorns stow'd,
Which gleams on this combustible abode;
The master there at arms, cool vet'ran stands,
With the ship's corporal, to give commands;
88
To sailors station'd, a cool sober rout,
Whose hands the dreadful burthen forthwith place
Within the powder-monkey's wooden case,
O'er which anon he claps the lid to run,
And waft the ammunition to his gun.
'Twas great Queen Bess, in Albion, first display'd,
How the fell food of murd'rous cannon's made;
'Twas her sound policy to draw no more
Destructive powder from a foreign shore;
Full well she knew that those are most secure,
Who in themselves defensive aid ensure;
And, from that hour, within each magazine,
The sooty hoards inflammable were seen,
Terrific produce of her subject's toil,
The vengeful thunder of our sea-girt soil,
That hurls the bullet from our cannon's jaws,
Death dealing, to support our country's cause.
How the fell food of murd'rous cannon's made;
89
Destructive powder from a foreign shore;
Full well she knew that those are most secure,
Who in themselves defensive aid ensure;
And, from that hour, within each magazine,
The sooty hoards inflammable were seen,
Terrific produce of her subject's toil,
The vengeful thunder of our sea-girt soil,
That hurls the bullet from our cannon's jaws,
Death dealing, to support our country's cause.
Powder combustible, 'twas thy fell fire,
Thy blast electrical, in thunders dire;
Each magazine before and aft didst blow
In air, harsh echoing to the floods below,
When lost the Boyne, a floating wreck was seen,
Huge timbers smoking on the glossy green.
Such of Amphion also prov'd the fate,
When she at Hamoaze, riding in proud state,
Blown up on high, by fell explosion there,
Exchang'd her element from flood to air.
While mercy's lenient hand repell'd the doom
Of brave Pellew; poor Swaffield found a tomb,
Ill-fated chief, who as the toast was giv'n,
Through liquid realms explor'd the path to heav'n.
Thy blast electrical, in thunders dire;
Each magazine before and aft didst blow
In air, harsh echoing to the floods below,
When lost the Boyne, a floating wreck was seen,
Huge timbers smoking on the glossy green.
90
When she at Hamoaze, riding in proud state,
91
Exchang'd her element from flood to air.
While mercy's lenient hand repell'd the doom
Of brave Pellew; poor Swaffield found a tomb,
Ill-fated chief, who as the toast was giv'n,
Through liquid realms explor'd the path to heav'n.
But to our lad once more, for 'twas his lot
To 'scape the contact of a murd'rous shot;
Which whizzing by, upon the deck quick brought
That very lad with whom Dick once had fought;
The yell of anguish made him turn his eyes,
When, stretch'd and bleeding, he the youth descries,
Speeds to assist, and badg'd with smoking gore,
The wounded views, while shatter'd on the floor,
Beside him quivers, with life's current warm,
That limb, so lately lopp'd, his mangled arm;
Richard, who ne'er could pity's impulse check,
Flies to the wounded on the blood-stain'd deck,
His charge supports, assistance to bestow,
And bears him to the cock-pit down below.
Fell scene of shatter'd limbs and writhing pain,
That direful spot, where darkness holds her reign;
Illum'd by sickly burning lanthorn's light,
In paly horrors thus but dimly dight:
With hand quite steady, and with mind sedate,
'Tis then the surgeon's task to operate,
The polish'd instruments rang'd at his side,
Full oft their lustre dim in carnage dy'd,
As he with arms in blood-stain'd oil-skin 'ray'd,
Coolly pursues his sanguinary trade.
Our youth, who still his groaning charge sustain'd,
In safety soon this dark asylum gain'd,
When, ah! what feelings made his bosom yearn,
To view the captain wounded wait his turn.
The bold commander saw our stripling straight,
With brimful eyes contemplating his fate,
While o'er one shoulder hung his comrade's head,
Drooping and clad in liv'ry of the dead;
Dick of his burthen eas'd, still linger'd there,
To witness how his patron kind should fare,
Achilles' captain who to him had prov'd
A father, and whom he as parent lov'd.
And now behold his turn arriv'd—for then
He chose to share the fate of common men;
His bosom bar'd, deep splinter'd gashes shows,
From whence the crimson torrent gushing flows;
With styptics soon the surgeon stems the tide,
And views with care the laceration wide;
While the bold chief, impatient of delay,
Commands dispatch, that he may join the fray,
Scarce heeds the faint hope for his life exprest,
By him whose skilful hand the wound had dress'd.
Meantime, transfixt, the scene our hero view'd,
While chilling sweats his icy limbs bedew'd;
By turns the surgeon and the captain eyes,
Displaying hope's and fear's alternate dies;
And, as the operator spoke, he hung
Appall'd upon the offsprings of his tongue;
Still there was hope—when Dick, with pent up breath,
Faulter'd, “Great God! O! rescue him from death.”
The captain straight on deck resum'd command,
And view'd with watchful eyes the adverse band,
Shatter'd, disabled; while, with colours doft,
Others display'd the British flag aloft.
Each tar, elate to view his captain, rears
On high his voice, and hails him with three cheers;
While Richard, struggling 'twixt delight and pain,
With shouts half-stifled strove to swell the strain.
Now bearing down, another vessel rides,
And stems the billows as it graceful glides;
Two foes' ships thus combining to subdue
Achilles' flag, and tame an English crew;
Starboard and larboard shots come rattling in,
While smoke augments with the tremendous din;
They now exchange—full fraught with war's intents—
Yard-arm and yard-arm, direful compliments.
With thick'ning dangers energies increase,
The truly valiant mind ne'er knows surcease;
Peril's a goading spur, and fans the flame
Of glory—pointing out the path to fame.
Richard, impress'd with this soul-thrilling glow,
Labour'd his magnanimity to shew;
Like wing-heel'd Mercury, with ebon store,
He flew unconscious of the weight he bore:
The cause of England warm'd his little breast,
He knew no fear, yet was his soul opprest;
For still, to check those energies he felt,
The wounded captain made his bosom melt,
Who in his chair reclining, firmly cool,
Sustain'd with vigour his puissant rule;
Nor unobserv'd were Richard's pangs display'd,
The staunch commander oft the lad survey'd,
Mark'd on his mien the struggling passions rise,
Saw sorrow veil the lustre of his eyes,
Impede those transports which the scene inspir'd,
Yet check'd no toil which duty then requir'd.
Three hours had now engag'd the battle's heat,
Captur'd and sunk was half the Gallic fleet,
Whilst other war-ships scarcely could sustain
Our steady fire—mere hulks upon the main.
Nor had our wooden walls escap'd their shot,
Tackling and sails had shar'd the wasteful lot,
While many a soul that brav'd the bloody fight,
Death's curtain scarf'd in icy sombrous night;
Whose shafts th' Achilles' crew had sorely felt,
Fell havoc there the hungry king had dealt;
Insatiate glutting on the laurel'd brave,
Wafting full ninety to the silent grave.
Yet soft. The cannon deals no more its blow,
Fled are the remnants of the shatter'd foe;
And thus remain'd, of five and twenty sail,
But twelve, to chronicle the dismal tale.
The conflict o'er, Dick drops a silent tear,
The record of mortality to hear;
Since scarce one victim of death's dread behest,
But oft with kindness had our boy caress'd,
That sound affection of a British tar,
Which made him poignant feel the fate of war.
And now the ship is drench'd with ocean's flood,
To cleanse from flesh adhesive, clotted blood,
The sev'ral decks, with death's escutcheons dy'd,
Which pour'd in crimson torrents down her side.
While through the fleet, 'tis next the seaman's care,
Forthwith the shatter'd tackling to repair;
Erect and rig the fore or jury mast,
And spread the canvas to each veering blast;
The war-ships now their course triumphant urge,
Breasting the billows of the restless surge,
In bulky pomp they stem each liquid steep,
And ride our wooden turrets of the deep;
And sailing thus, to make proud Albion's shore,
Where fame their valour had proclaim'd before.
Richard, who never felt to sloth inclin'd,
But active kept his energetic mind,
The hours 'twixt duty shar'd and pity's plea,
That call'd him to his former enemy;
Since Richard's tenderness could ne'er abstain,
From soothing the poor armless stripling's pain,
And while philanthropy he kept in view,
No less he call'd to mind his captain's due;
Whose wound depriv'd our hero of all joys,
Holding his life and death in equipoise.
Such prov'd the conduct of this gallant child,
Who little thought how fortune on him smil'd;
The kind commander having mark'd in turn,
Those glowing fires that in his bosom burn,
Resolv'd to snatch him from ignoble state,
And nurture virtues that proclaim'd him great:
Virtues which he, unseen, had cautious ey'd,
Inherent worth, which ev'ry doubt defied.
To 'scape the contact of a murd'rous shot;
92
That very lad with whom Dick once had fought;
The yell of anguish made him turn his eyes,
When, stretch'd and bleeding, he the youth descries,
Speeds to assist, and badg'd with smoking gore,
The wounded views, while shatter'd on the floor,
Beside him quivers, with life's current warm,
That limb, so lately lopp'd, his mangled arm;
Richard, who ne'er could pity's impulse check,
Flies to the wounded on the blood-stain'd deck,
His charge supports, assistance to bestow,
And bears him to the cock-pit down below.
Fell scene of shatter'd limbs and writhing pain,
That direful spot, where darkness holds her reign;
Illum'd by sickly burning lanthorn's light,
In paly horrors thus but dimly dight:
With hand quite steady, and with mind sedate,
'Tis then the surgeon's task to operate,
The polish'd instruments rang'd at his side,
Full oft their lustre dim in carnage dy'd,
93
Coolly pursues his sanguinary trade.
Our youth, who still his groaning charge sustain'd,
In safety soon this dark asylum gain'd,
When, ah! what feelings made his bosom yearn,
To view the captain wounded wait his turn.
The bold commander saw our stripling straight,
With brimful eyes contemplating his fate,
While o'er one shoulder hung his comrade's head,
Drooping and clad in liv'ry of the dead;
Dick of his burthen eas'd, still linger'd there,
To witness how his patron kind should fare,
Achilles' captain who to him had prov'd
A father, and whom he as parent lov'd.
And now behold his turn arriv'd—for then
He chose to share the fate of common men;
His bosom bar'd, deep splinter'd gashes shows,
From whence the crimson torrent gushing flows;
With styptics soon the surgeon stems the tide,
And views with care the laceration wide;
94
Commands dispatch, that he may join the fray,
Scarce heeds the faint hope for his life exprest,
By him whose skilful hand the wound had dress'd.
Meantime, transfixt, the scene our hero view'd,
While chilling sweats his icy limbs bedew'd;
By turns the surgeon and the captain eyes,
Displaying hope's and fear's alternate dies;
And, as the operator spoke, he hung
Appall'd upon the offsprings of his tongue;
Still there was hope—when Dick, with pent up breath,
Faulter'd, “Great God! O! rescue him from death.”
The captain straight on deck resum'd command,
And view'd with watchful eyes the adverse band,
Shatter'd, disabled; while, with colours doft,
Others display'd the British flag aloft.
Each tar, elate to view his captain, rears
On high his voice, and hails him with three cheers;
While Richard, struggling 'twixt delight and pain,
With shouts half-stifled strove to swell the strain.
95
And stems the billows as it graceful glides;
Two foes' ships thus combining to subdue
Achilles' flag, and tame an English crew;
Starboard and larboard shots come rattling in,
While smoke augments with the tremendous din;
They now exchange—full fraught with war's intents—
Yard-arm and yard-arm, direful compliments.
With thick'ning dangers energies increase,
The truly valiant mind ne'er knows surcease;
Peril's a goading spur, and fans the flame
Of glory—pointing out the path to fame.
Richard, impress'd with this soul-thrilling glow,
Labour'd his magnanimity to shew;
Like wing-heel'd Mercury, with ebon store,
He flew unconscious of the weight he bore:
96
He knew no fear, yet was his soul opprest;
For still, to check those energies he felt,
The wounded captain made his bosom melt,
Who in his chair reclining, firmly cool,
Sustain'd with vigour his puissant rule;
Nor unobserv'd were Richard's pangs display'd,
The staunch commander oft the lad survey'd,
Mark'd on his mien the struggling passions rise,
Saw sorrow veil the lustre of his eyes,
Impede those transports which the scene inspir'd,
Yet check'd no toil which duty then requir'd.
Three hours had now engag'd the battle's heat,
Captur'd and sunk was half the Gallic fleet,
Whilst other war-ships scarcely could sustain
Our steady fire—mere hulks upon the main.
Nor had our wooden walls escap'd their shot,
Tackling and sails had shar'd the wasteful lot,
While many a soul that brav'd the bloody fight,
Death's curtain scarf'd in icy sombrous night;
97
Fell havoc there the hungry king had dealt;
Insatiate glutting on the laurel'd brave,
Wafting full ninety to the silent grave.
Yet soft. The cannon deals no more its blow,
Fled are the remnants of the shatter'd foe;
And thus remain'd, of five and twenty sail,
But twelve, to chronicle the dismal tale.
The conflict o'er, Dick drops a silent tear,
The record of mortality to hear;
Since scarce one victim of death's dread behest,
But oft with kindness had our boy caress'd,
That sound affection of a British tar,
Which made him poignant feel the fate of war.
And now the ship is drench'd with ocean's flood,
To cleanse from flesh adhesive, clotted blood,
The sev'ral decks, with death's escutcheons dy'd,
Which pour'd in crimson torrents down her side.
While through the fleet, 'tis next the seaman's care,
Forthwith the shatter'd tackling to repair;
98
And spread the canvas to each veering blast;
The war-ships now their course triumphant urge,
Breasting the billows of the restless surge,
In bulky pomp they stem each liquid steep,
And ride our wooden turrets of the deep;
And sailing thus, to make proud Albion's shore,
Where fame their valour had proclaim'd before.
Richard, who never felt to sloth inclin'd,
But active kept his energetic mind,
The hours 'twixt duty shar'd and pity's plea,
That call'd him to his former enemy;
Since Richard's tenderness could ne'er abstain,
From soothing the poor armless stripling's pain,
And while philanthropy he kept in view,
No less he call'd to mind his captain's due;
Whose wound depriv'd our hero of all joys,
Holding his life and death in equipoise.
Such prov'd the conduct of this gallant child,
Who little thought how fortune on him smil'd;
99
Those glowing fires that in his bosom burn,
Resolv'd to snatch him from ignoble state,
And nurture virtues that proclaim'd him great:
Virtues which he, unseen, had cautious ey'd,
Inherent worth, which ev'ry doubt defied.
Propitious gales, still urging to restore
Our tars victorious to their native shore;
Some boy at length sings out, with joyful cry,
From cross-trees of top-gallant-mast on high,
“Land! land a-head!”—When from below is heard,
“How bears the land?”—“Off starboard bows,” the word,
When breezes fair the ship's course onward urge,
Forcing her head impetuous through the surge.
Now rapidly impell'd by fav'ring gale,
Approaching shore, they sing out—“Shorten sail!”
Which task perform'd, forthwith another set,
Over the bows with speed the anchor get;
When thus prepar'd for briny floods below,
True to command, they let shank-painter go;
Then stream the buoy—while up aloft bold Jack
Obeys the word, “Back the fore-top-sail—back!”
On which the master thus his song employs,
“Let go—let go the anchor there, my boys!”
The engine sinks, by gravitation led,
And delves itself within a sandy bed,
Whilst cable running swift the wave divides,
Whereto the buoyant vessel easy rides.
Our tars victorious to their native shore;
Some boy at length sings out, with joyful cry,
From cross-trees of top-gallant-mast on high,
“Land! land a-head!”—When from below is heard,
“How bears the land?”—“Off starboard bows,” the word,
When breezes fair the ship's course onward urge,
Forcing her head impetuous through the surge.
100
Approaching shore, they sing out—“Shorten sail!”
Which task perform'd, forthwith another set,
Over the bows with speed the anchor get;
When thus prepar'd for briny floods below,
True to command, they let shank-painter go;
Then stream the buoy—while up aloft bold Jack
Obeys the word, “Back the fore-top-sail—back!”
On which the master thus his song employs,
“Let go—let go the anchor there, my boys!”
The engine sinks, by gravitation led,
And delves itself within a sandy bed,
Whilst cable running swift the wave divides,
Whereto the buoyant vessel easy rides.
Thus safely moor'd, Achilles with the fleet,
At Spithead ratifies the foe's defeat,
Whose captur'd bulwark on the billows borne,
Rocks the sad symbol of Gaul's state forlorn,
While Albion's heart of oak, with flag unfurl'd,
Rides the proud mistress of the wat'ry world.
At Spithead ratifies the foe's defeat,
101
Rocks the sad symbol of Gaul's state forlorn,
While Albion's heart of oak, with flag unfurl'd,
Rides the proud mistress of the wat'ry world.
END OF CANTO II.
| The Sailor-Boy | |