The wind, in fact, perhaps was rather less, But the ship labour’d so, they scarce could hope To weather out much longer; the distress Was also great with which they had to cope For want of water, and their solid mess Was scant enough: in vain the telescope Was used—nor sail nor shore appear’d in sight, Nought but the heavy sea, and coming night.
Again the weather threaten’d,—again blew A gale, and in the fore and after hold Water appear’d; yet, though the people knew All this, the most were patient, and some bold, Until the chains and leathers were worn through Of all our pumps:—a wreck complete she roll’d, At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are Like human beings during civil war.
Then came the carpenter, at last, with tears In his rough eyes, and told the captain he Could do no more: he was a man in years, And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea, And if he wept at length, they were not fears That made his eyelids as a woman’s be, But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children,— Two things for dying people quite bewildering.
The ship was evidently settling now Fast by the head; and, all distinction gone, Some went to prayers again, and made a vow Of candles to their saints—but there were none To pay them with; and some look’d o’er the bow; Some hoisted out the boats; and there was one That begg’d Pedrillo for an absolution, Who told him to be damn’d—in his confusion.
Some lash’d them in their hammocks; some put on Their best clothes, as if going to a fair; Some cursed the day on which they saw the sun, And gnash’d their teeth, and, howling, tore their hair; And others went on as they had begun, Getting the boats out, being well aware That a tight boat will live in a rough sea, Unless with breakers close beneath her lee.
The worst of all was, that in their condition, Having been several days in great distress, ’Twas difficult to get out such provision As now might render their long suffering less: Men, even when dying, dislike inanition; Their stock was damaged by the weather’s stress: Two casks of biscuit and a keg of butter Were all that could be thrown into the cutter.
But in the long-boat they contrived to stow Some pounds of bread, though injured by the wet; Water, a twenty-gallon cask or so; Six flasks of wine; and they contrived to get A portion of their beef up from below, And with a piece of pork, moreover, met, But scarce enough to serve them for a luncheon— Then there was rum, eight gallons in a puncheon.