University of Virginia Library


74

V THE WIND OF GOD

It was late in the wintry August when the ships were fit for sea,
From stem to stern-post caulked and paid, for the fierce fight yet to be;
And they double-braced the standing-gear, reshipped their spars and stores,
And beat out seaward eagerly from those ill-omened shores.
It was noon on the third day after, they had sight of the ocean gate
Where the long black wall of mountain is cleft by the fabled strait.
They saw the headlands break the swell, the great walls yawning wide,
And up the foam of shoaling reefs a path of steely tide;
Thereat he streamed his banners out, and as he passed between
Drake struck his topsails on the bunt in homage to the Queen;
And since his bird of wilderness had met with fortune's wind,
New named henceforth the Pelican shall sail the Golden Hind.

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Their track wound in through narrowing gulfs with bastioned walls o'erbowed
'Neath drifted snows on the dripping shelves and a tent of inky cloud;
Fierce wind-flaws drave with an angry blast at the turns of the winding way,
Bleak breaths that swept from the misted crags and lashed the freezing spray;
Wild currents raced through the twisting tides that washed round wilderness isles,
And the shadow of night hung all day long in the deep scarred rock defiles;
And ever at even wandering fires showed glimmering through the gloom,
While prisoned deep in the tunnelled caves they heard the pent seas boom;
There many a stout heart shook for dread that had feared no earthly foe,
For the weird of night is an awesome thing in the paths where seamen go.
And at times the strait way broadened out till the white mists hid the shore,
And they drifted on in a veil of fog till they heard the breakers roar,
Then the lead would fly from the sounding-chains, and the starboard line raced free,
While the larboard caught on a sunken edge of the shoal they might not see:
They were fifteen days and fifteen nights in the throat of the dismal strait,
And the shadow of death was near alway, but as yet they could smile at fate,

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For ever the eye of the master watched, and a master-hand was laid
To sail and tiller and sounding gear, and a master-voice obeyed;
Till the dreary battle was all behind, and at last the deed was done,
And the keel of an English ship ran out on the sea of the setting sun.
They watched him drop to the ocean rim, and they felt the old sea-spell
As with joy they beat to the open wave, and the long south twilight fell.
But lo, when the dawn came gray with cloud there was no more land on the lee,
And they met the tail of the western gale that is lord in the southern sea;
And a tempest rose such as never yet they had hoped for heart to brave,
These men who had spent their whole hard lives at the chance of the evil wave.
It flung them south and it drave them east, while the mountain tides ran past
With death in the hiss of the breaking swell and death in the boom of the blast;
The sky pressed down on their bare mast poles as they scudded before the wind,
As they climbed the seas and shuddered at the sheer green gulfs behind;
And swiftlier raced the following tide with the white comb reared to whelm,
And they knew how nigh was the dread lee-shore, but they dared not change the helm.

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The nights grew brief in that wintry world, but there broke no friendly sun
Through the cumbered cloud and the drifting scud, and the night and the day seemed one.
So ever they toiled at the creaking pumps and the breach that the green seas made,
And ever they cried on the Lord of Storms, and their hearts were unafraid.
Week after week at the tempest's will the Golden Hind ran on,
Till the blast died down to a whispering breeze and a clean sun rose and shone;
And the albatross came wheeling to stare at their ribboned sail
As he dropped from the calm of the upper sky in the wake of the dying gale.
They rode alone in a lonely sea,—it was months before they knew
They would meet no more with their sister ships at the tryst in far Peru,
For the great untraversed ocean had claimed its first-fruit prey,
And never a sign from the Marygold shall be till the judgment day;
But Wynter ran with the warning wind back into the sheltered strait,
And there three weeks he had lingered on, for the storm would not abate;
Till at last with a waning hope or will, grown weary of fight and foam,
He turned his back on the venture and set the course for home.

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So the might of the waves was broken, and the might of the sun shone forth,
And eastward stretched a broad sea-way, but the land lay west and north;
Till then they had deemed that the austral earth with a long unbroken shore
Ran on to the Pole Antarctic, for such was the old sea-lore;
But here were the sperm whales spouting for joy that the storm was done,
And the ice-floes sailing round them and the waves blue under the sun.
The sick men crept from their reeking bunks, and climbed to the decks again,
To see where the sister oceans met to the south of the gloomy main;
And they hailed that storm for the wind of God, for the might of its blast had borne
The Hind on her path of glory a sea-league past the Horn.
They steered for the shadowy land they saw low under the northern sky,
To an isle unveiled by the lifting cloud, and they found good haven nigh:
They laughed and sang as they scaled the cliffs, the New World rang with mirth,
And they stretched glad arms to heaven on the southernmost earth on earth.