 | [Jasper Oakes, in] A masque of poets |  |
52
JASPER OAKES.
The captain follows the sea no more,
But spends the eve of his days on shore;
And when about him an eager band
Beg for a tale of the sea or land,
The gentlest among them plead and coax
For the sad, strange story of Jasper Oakes.
But spends the eve of his days on shore;
And when about him an eager band
Beg for a tale of the sea or land,
The gentlest among them plead and coax
For the sad, strange story of Jasper Oakes.
The ship was ready, the cargo stored,
The wind was willing, the crew on board,
And we sailed away from the English shore
For fair Manhattan, our home, once more;
But half way over, there came a blow
That threatened to sink us fathoms low.
The wind was willing, the crew on board,
And we sailed away from the English shore
For fair Manhattan, our home, once more;
But half way over, there came a blow
That threatened to sink us fathoms low.
The mate I shipped on the trip before
Was the bravest fellow on wave or shore,—
A thorough seaman, alert and wise,
And wondrous handsome, with fearless eyes,
A swift, sure foot and a steady hand,
A right good comrade on sea or land.
Was the bravest fellow on wave or shore,—
A thorough seaman, alert and wise,
And wondrous handsome, with fearless eyes,
A swift, sure foot and a steady hand,
A right good comrade on sea or land.
53
The jib swung loose in the sudden gale;
“Up,” I shouted, “and furl the sail.”
Before another could make reply,
The mate sprung forward and cried, “Aye, aye!
I am the oldest sailor here”—
“Stay!” I screamed in his heedless ear,
“Up,” I shouted, “and furl the sail.”
Before another could make reply,
The mate sprung forward and cried, “Aye, aye!
I am the oldest sailor here”—
“Stay!” I screamed in his heedless ear,
“Fasten a rope's end round you, then,
Even sailors are only men:
A dip of the boom will break your hold”—
“No!” he shouted, unwisely bold,
“Never a cowardly rope for me.
Tether a squirrel to climb a tree!”
Even sailors are only men:
A dip of the boom will break your hold”—
“No!” he shouted, unwisely bold,
“Never a cowardly rope for me.
Tether a squirrel to climb a tree!”
The laboring vessel, with creak and strain,
Struggled and groaned like a thing in pain,
But Oakes, the bravest of all my men,
Never stood on the deck again:
Torn from his hold by the mad waves' might,
The wild sea swallowed him out of sight.
Struggled and groaned like a thing in pain,
But Oakes, the bravest of all my men,
Never stood on the deck again:
Torn from his hold by the mad waves' might,
The wild sea swallowed him out of sight.
My gallant shipmate! I missed him sore,
And grieved as I seldom grieved before;
Yet, in my brooding, was glad to know
What he had told me a time ago,—
“I 've not a tie in the world,” said he,
“A ship is my sweetheart, my home the sea;
And grieved as I seldom grieved before;
Yet, in my brooding, was glad to know
What he had told me a time ago,—
“I 've not a tie in the world,” said he,
“A ship is my sweetheart, my home the sea;
54
“And if I choke in the bitter brine,
Nobody's venture goes down but mine!”
So I rejoiced that no hearth was dim,
No fond heart broken, because of him,
That no sad woman would pine and wait
Or come and ask for the missing mate.
Nobody's venture goes down but mine!”
So I rejoiced that no hearth was dim,
No fond heart broken, because of him,
That no sad woman would pine and wait
Or come and ask for the missing mate.
Past the Narrows and up the bay,
Home we came on a bright March day,
Glad of our harbor;—and, almost ere
The vessel touched at the well-known pier,
Lightly over the side there came
A slip of a girl, who called my name.
Home we came on a bright March day,
Glad of our harbor;—and, almost ere
The vessel touched at the well-known pier,
Lightly over the side there came
A slip of a girl, who called my name.
She had a face like an early rose,
And the smile of a child, who hardly knows
What the burden of living means—
Scarcely out of her happy teens—
“And who,” I asked, “do you chance to be,
And what, my girl, do you want with me?”
And the smile of a child, who hardly knows
What the burden of living means—
Scarcely out of her happy teens—
“And who,” I asked, “do you chance to be,
And what, my girl, do you want with me?”
“Only your mate”—with a smile more sweet,
“Your mate, my husband, I came to meet.
I could not wait, sir, a moment more;
I could not stay till he came on shore;
I hope”—she paused, and her face grew dim—
“I hope no evil has chanced to him?”
“Your mate, my husband, I came to meet.
I could not wait, sir, a moment more;
I could not stay till he came on shore;
I hope”—she paused, and her face grew dim—
“I hope no evil has chanced to him?”
55
Stunned for a moment, I hardly knew
Whether my eyes and ears were true,
Yet there she stood, in her hopeful youth,
Her whole face earnest with love and truth,
Eager and anxious, with lips apart,
Waiting for news that would break her heart.
Whether my eyes and ears were true,
Yet there she stood, in her hopeful youth,
Her whole face earnest with love and truth,
Eager and anxious, with lips apart,
Waiting for news that would break her heart.
“Out on the jib-boom in a gale
He went in the darkness to furl a sail,
The vessel struggled and plunged and tossed—
The ropes were icy—and he was lost.”
Bitter and cruel words, I knew,
But what could a clumsy sailor do?
He went in the darkness to furl a sail,
The vessel struggled and plunged and tossed—
The ropes were icy—and he was lost.”
Bitter and cruel words, I knew,
But what could a clumsy sailor do?
Out of her face, in an instant white,
Vanished the glow, like a blown-out light,
The smile of joy and the beaming hope—
And down she dropped on a coil of rope,
Wringing her hands with moans of woe,
Like one struck down by a sudden blow.
Vanished the glow, like a blown-out light,
The smile of joy and the beaming hope—
And down she dropped on a coil of rope,
Wringing her hands with moans of woe,
Like one struck down by a sudden blow.
The pitying sailors kindly bore
The poor girl-widow back on shore,
And the mate's sea-chest, and the little hoard
Of foreign trinkets he had on board;
But her poor pale face, with its grief and fright
Haunted my dreams for many a night.
The poor girl-widow back on shore,
And the mate's sea-chest, and the little hoard
Of foreign trinkets he had on board;
But her poor pale face, with its grief and fright
Haunted my dreams for many a night.
56
With April's sunshine and breezes cool
We bowled back blithely to Liverpool,
And when at the close of a cloudy day
In front of its dingy wharves we lay,
Crossing the deck I chanced to see
A fair-faced woman, who asked for me.
We bowled back blithely to Liverpool,
And when at the close of a cloudy day
In front of its dingy wharves we lay,
Crossing the deck I chanced to see
A fair-faced woman, who asked for me.
No fresh young girl with a rosy face,
But a woman, wearing a matron's grace,
In whose soft eyes, as they questioned mine,
I saw the look of a mother shine;
And closely grasping her garment's fold,
Was a three-years' baby, with hair like gold.
But a woman, wearing a matron's grace,
In whose soft eyes, as they questioned mine,
I saw the look of a mother shine;
And closely grasping her garment's fold,
Was a three-years' baby, with hair like gold.
With a chill that smote like a sudden blast
I thought of the woman who stood there last,
Sinking under her great despair;
And my glance grew into a startled stare,
As the boy came forward, and gazed at me
With the eyes of the man I had lost at sea.
I thought of the woman who stood there last,
Sinking under her great despair;
And my glance grew into a startled stare,
As the boy came forward, and gazed at me
With the eyes of the man I had lost at sea.
“Where is Oakes?” asked a voice of doubt,
“Who sailed with you on the voyage out?
I am his wife—have I come too late?
Has he gone on shore? do you hesitate?
Speak to me, tell me! Ah, I see
You are keeping some terrible truth from me!”
“Who sailed with you on the voyage out?
I am his wife—have I come too late?
Has he gone on shore? do you hesitate?
Speak to me, tell me! Ah, I see
You are keeping some terrible truth from me!”
57
Staggered, breathless—in dazed surprise
Under the spell of those well-known eyes,
Eyes which silenced my struggling doubt—
“Lost”—I gasped—“on the passage out—
Lost from the jib-boom—furling sail—
Overboard—in a heavy gale.”
Under the spell of those well-known eyes,
Eyes which silenced my struggling doubt—
“Lost”—I gasped—“on the passage out—
Lost from the jib-boom—furling sail—
Overboard—in a heavy gale.”
Thus, as the captain quaffs and smokes,
He tells the story of Jasper Oakes.
He tells the story of Jasper Oakes.
| [Jasper Oakes, in] A masque of poets | |