20
Let the foresheets go; don’t mind, boys.
Though the weather should be worse.
Fore and aft the sprit sail yard get;
Reef the mizen; see all clear;
Hand up! each preventer-brace set;
Man the foreyard; cheer, lads, cheer!
Now the dreadful thunder’s roaring!
Peals on peals contending clash!
On our head fierce rain falls pouring!
In our eyes blue lightning flash!
One wide water all around us,
All above us one black sky!
Diff'rent deaths at once surround us.
Hark! what means that dreadful cry?
The foremast’s gone, cries ev’ry tongue out,
O’er the lee, twelve feet ’bove deck:
A leak beneath the chest-tree’s sprung out;
Call all hands to clear the wreck.
Quick the lanyards cut to pieces;
Come, my hearts, be stout and bold;
Plumb the well, the leak increases,
Four feet water in the hold.
While o’er the ship wild waves are beating,
We for wives or children mourn;
Alas! from hence there’s no retreating,
Alas! from hence there’s no return.
Still the leak is gaining on us,
Both chain-pumps are chok’d below,
Heav’n have mercy here upon us!
For only that cau save us now!
