Walter Mitchell (1826-1908)

The author of this remarkably realistic and vivid sea-poem was a clergyman born in Nantucket, Massachusetts. He graduated from Harvard in 1846 and entered the Episcopal ministry. He was editorially connected with The Churchman. He wrote several novels, one well-known at the time, Bryan Maurice, and a volume of poems. He died in New York City.

There are weak lines and trite and banal phrases in this poem, but its worth, at a time when so many were writing fustian about the sea, with allusions that would make any mariner laugh, is in its being written from actual observation and without mere "poetic device." It is an honest description, presented with gusto and the actual feeling, of a squall off shore.

TACKING SHIP OFF SHORE

THE weather-leech of the topsail shivers,

The bow-lines strain, and the lee-shrouds slacken,
The braces are taut, the lithe boom quivers,
And the waves with the coming squall-cloud blacken.

Open one point on the weather-bow,

Is the light-house tall on Fire Island Head?

There's a shade of doubt on the captain's brow,
And the pilot watches the heaving lead.

I stand at the wheel, and with eager eye,
To sea and to sky and to shore I gaze,
Till the muttered order of "Full and by!"
Is suddenly changed for "Full for stays!"

The ship bends lower before the breeze,
As her broadside fair to the blast she lays;
And she swifter springs to the rising seas,
As the pilot calls, "Stand by for stays!"

It is silence all, as each in his place,
With the gathered coil in his hardened hands,
By tack and bowline, by sheet and brace,
Waiting the watchword impatient stands.

And the light on Fire Island Head draws near
As, trumpet-winged, the pilot's shout
From his post on the bowsprit's heel I hear,
With the welcome call of "Ready! About!"

No time to spare! It is touch and go;

And the captain growls, "Down, helm! hard down!" As my weight on the whirling spokes I throw,

While heaven grows black with the storm-cloud's frown.

High o'er the knight-heads flies the spray,
As we meet the shock of the plunging sea;
And my shoulder stiff to the wheel I lay,
As I answer, "Ay, ay, sir! Ha-a-rd a lee!"

With the swerving leap of a startled steed
The ship flies fast in the eye of the wind,
The dangerous shoals on the lee recede,
And the headland white we have left behind.

The topsails flutter, the jibs collapse,
And belly and tug at the groaning cleats;
The spanker slats, and the mainsail flaps;
And thunders the order, "Tacks and sheets!"

'Mid the rattle of blocks and the tramp of the crew; Hisses the rain of the rushing squall:

The sails are aback from clew to clew,
And now is the moment for, "Mainsail, haul!"

And the heavy yards, like a baby's toy,
By fifty strong arms are swiftly swung:
She holds her way, and I look with joy

For the first white spray o'er the bulwarks flung.

"Let go, and haul!" 'Tis the last command, And the head-sails fill to the blast once more: Astern and to leeward lies the land,

With its breakers white on the shingly shore.

What matters the reef, or the rain, or the squall?
I steady the helm for the open sea;

The first mate clamors, "Belay there, all!"
And the captain's breath once more comes free.

And so off shore let the good ship fly;
Little care I how the gusts may blow,
In my fo'castle bunk, in a jacket dry,

Eight bells have struck and my watch is below.

Silas Weir Mitchell (1829-1914)

Dr. Mitchell is chiefly remembered as a novelist, as the author of Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker, The Adventures of François, and many other works of fiction. He also, however, began publishing poetry with The Hill of Stones, 1882, and was the author of several volumes of verse. His Collected Poems have been out for some years. He was born in Philadelphia and graduated from Jefferson Medical College in 1850. He published many medical works of importance. His son, Langdon Mitchell, is a poet and dramatist.

This poem of Dr. Mitchell's reflects a mood almost every boy has experienced, whether from reading Shakespeare or some mere tale of adventure. It seems therefore particularly suitable for this volume.

*

ON A BOY'S FIRST READING OF "KING
HENRY V" *

WHEN youth was lord of my unchallenged fate,
And time seemed but the vassal of my will,

I entertainëd certain guests of state

The great of older days, who, faithful still,
Have kept with me the pact my youth had made.

And I remember how one galleon rare
From the far distance of a time long dead
Came on the wings of a fair-fortuned air,
With sound of martial music heralded,

In blazonry of storied shields arrayed.

Copyright, 1896, by The Century Company, and reprinted by their permission.

So the Great Harry with high trumpetings,
The wind of victory in her burly sails!
And all her deck with clang of armor rings:
And under-flown the Lily standard trails,
And over-flown the royal Lions ramp.

The waves she rode are strewn with silent wrecks,
Her proud sea-comrades once; but ever yet
Comes time-defying laughter from her decks,
Where stands the lion-lord Plantagenet,
Large-hearted, merry, king of court and camp.

Sail on! sail on! The fatal blasts of time
That spared so few, shall thee with joy escort;
And with the stormy thunder of thy rhyme
Shalt thou salute full many a centuried port
With "Ho! for Harry and red Agincourt!"