The Writings of Bret Harte standard library edition |
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THE WRECKER
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 | The Writings of Bret Harte |  |
THE WRECKER
(From a Painting)
“Ho, Mark and Will! What, shirking men!
Why do ye loiter along the sand,—
Twiddling your thumbs and idling, when
So brave a cargo bestrews the land?
Lend a hand to this bale of spice
Fragrant as breezes from India's shore,
And this oaken chest that buried lies
I warrant, with dollars a precious store.
Why do ye loiter along the sand,—
Twiddling your thumbs and idling, when
So brave a cargo bestrews the land?
Lend a hand to this bale of spice
Fragrant as breezes from India's shore,
And this oaken chest that buried lies
I warrant, with dollars a precious store.
“You tell me she was a noble ship!
And a noble cargo she cast away;
And the Captain thought of a lucky trip—
And the crew—they all were lost, you say?
'T is a blessed wreck, for I dreamt this night
That my daughter Nan, with her looks of grace,
She that fled from her father's sight,
Stood by my hammock, face to face.
And a noble cargo she cast away;
And the Captain thought of a lucky trip—
And the crew—they all were lost, you say?
'T is a blessed wreck, for I dreamt this night
That my daughter Nan, with her looks of grace,
She that fled from her father's sight,
Stood by my hammock, face to face.
“And I knew that I yet might hoard and save
Enough to follow her some fair day;
It was God who sent a barque so brave—
May he shrive the souls that were cast away,
Then haste ye, men—why do ye stare?
Why do ye turn your eyes from mine?
Why do you gaze at the open air?
At the land, at the beacon and flashing brine!”
Enough to follow her some fair day;
It was God who sent a barque so brave—
May he shrive the souls that were cast away,
Then haste ye, men—why do ye stare?
Why do ye turn your eyes from mine?
Why do you gaze at the open air?
At the land, at the beacon and flashing brine!”
302
“Master! The waves were wild to-night
And ran like wolves on the smooth white beach,
And broke with a roar on the rocky bight,
And swept to the cliffs in their length'ning reach.
And she struck, d' ye see, upon ‘Devils Back,’
And in less than the turn of a glass was gone
And I heard her spars and timbers crack
Over the sea and the whistling storm.
And ran like wolves on the smooth white beach,
And broke with a roar on the rocky bight,
And swept to the cliffs in their length'ning reach.
And she struck, d' ye see, upon ‘Devils Back,’
And in less than the turn of a glass was gone
And I heard her spars and timbers crack
Over the sea and the whistling storm.
“And we saw,—'twas Bill and I stood here—
A great wave come to the lab'ring ship
As she thumped and struggled as though in fear—
But it caught her up like a cooper's chip
And then there was naught but the boiling surge,
And the hissing water—but soon to view
A speck seemed borne to the glimmery verge
Of the rocky bight—and Bill saw it too.
A great wave come to the lab'ring ship
As she thumped and struggled as though in fear—
But it caught her up like a cooper's chip
And then there was naught but the boiling surge,
And the hissing water—but soon to view
A speck seemed borne to the glimmery verge
Of the rocky bight—and Bill saw it too.
“So we ran—Bill and I—and Bill dashed out
With a line that I held, slung around his waist,
And thrice he rolled over and bobbed about
And thrice he brought up at the selfsame place.
He'll tell you so, Master,—'t was not his fault,
If after he struggled an hour there,
He only caught something—'t was damp and salt,
And dragged it out by its long fair hair.
With a line that I held, slung around his waist,
And thrice he rolled over and bobbed about
And thrice he brought up at the selfsame place.
He'll tell you so, Master,—'t was not his fault,
If after he struggled an hour there,
He only caught something—'t was damp and salt,
And dragged it out by its long fair hair.
“But we laid it afterward on the sand,
Take my arm, Master, I'll show you what.”
They led him down on the cold white sand
And up to a quiet and sheltered spot,
And there by the billows, and beacon's light,
Again he was standing face to face,
As he stood in a dream on that stormy night,
With his daughter Nan and her look of grace.
Take my arm, Master, I'll show you what.”
They led him down on the cold white sand
And up to a quiet and sheltered spot,
And there by the billows, and beacon's light,
Again he was standing face to face,
As he stood in a dream on that stormy night,
With his daughter Nan and her look of grace.
| The Writings of Bret Harte | |