| |
| “’T WAS five and forty year ago, | |
| Just such another morn, | |
| The fishermen were on the beach, | |
| The reapers in the corn; | |
| My tale is true, young gentlemen, | 5 |
| As sure as you were born. | |
| |
| “My tale ’s all true, young gentlemen,” | |
| The fond old boatman cried | |
| Unto the sullen, angry lads, | |
| Who vain obedience tried; | 10 |
| “Mind what your father says to you, | |
| And don’t go out this tide. | |
| |
| “Just such a shiny sea as this, | |
| Smooth as a pond, you ’d say, | |
| And white gulls flying, and the crafts | 15 |
| Down Channel making way; | |
| And Isle of Wight, all glittering bright, | |
| Seen clear from Swanage Bay. | |
| |
| “The Battery point, the Race beyond, | |
| Just as to-day you see; | 20 |
| This was, I think, the very stone | |
| Where sat Dick, Dolly, and me; | |
| She was our little sister, sirs, | |
| A small child, just turned three. | |
| |
| “And Dick was mighty fond of her: | 25 |
| Though a big lad and bold, | |
| He ’d carry her like any nurse, | |
| Almost from birth, I ’m told; | |
| For mother sickened soon, and died, | |
| When Doll was eight months old. | 30 |
| |
| “We sat and watched a little boat, | |
| Her name the ‘Tricksy Jane,’ | |
| A queer old tub laid up ashore, | |
| But we could see her plain; | |
| To see her and not haul her up | 35 |
| Cost us a deal of pain. | |
| |
| “Said Dick to me, ‘Let ’s have a pull, | |
| Father will never know, | |
| He ’s busy in his wheat up there, | |
| And cannot see us go: | 40 |
| These landsmen are such cowards, if | |
| A puff of wind does blow. | |
| |
| “‘I ’ve been to France and back three times,— | |
| Who knows best, Dad or me, | |
| Whether a craft ’s seaworthy or not?— | 45 |
| Dolly, wilt go to sea?’ | |
| And Dolly laughed, and hugged him tight, | |
| As pleased as she could be. | |
| |
| “I don’t mean, sirs, to blame poor Dick: | |
| What he did, sure I ’d do: | 50 |
| And many a sail in ‘Tricksy Jane’ | |
| We ’d had when she was new. | |
| Father was always sharp; and what | |
| He said, he meant it too. | |
| |
| “But now the sky had not a cloud, | 55 |
| The bay looked smooth as glass; | |
| Our Dick could manage any boat, | |
| As neat as ever was; | |
| And Dolly crowed, ‘Me go to sea!’ | |
| The jolly little lass! | 60 |
| |
| “Well, sirs, we went; a pair of oars, | |
| My jacket for a sail; | |
| Just round ‘Old Harry and his Wife,’— | |
| Those rocks there, within hail,— | |
| And we came back.—D’ ye want to hear | 65 |
| The end o’ the old man’s tale? | |
| |
| “Ay, ay, we came back, past that point, | |
| But then a breeze upsprung; | |
| Dick shouted, ‘Hoy! down sail!’ and pulled | |
| With all his might among | 70 |
| The white sea-horses that upreared | |
| So terrible and strong. | |
| |
| “I pulled too; I was blind with fear,— | |
| But I could hear Dick’s breath | |
| Coming and going, as he told | 75 |
| Dolly to creep beneath | |
| His jacket, and not hold him so: | |
| We rowed for life or death. | |
| |
| “We almost reached the sheltered bay, | |
| We could see father stand | 80 |
| Upon the little jetty here, | |
| His sickle in his hand,— | |
| The houses white, the yellow fields, | |
| The safe and pleasant land. | |
| |
| “And Dick, though pale as any ghost, | 85 |
| Had only said to me, | |
| ‘We ’re all right now, old lad!’ when up | |
| A wave rolled,—drenched us three,— | |
| One lurch,—and then I felt the chill | |
| And roar of blinding sea. | 90 |
| |
| “I don’t remember much but that— | |
| You see, I ’m safe and sound; | |
| I have been wrecked four times since then, | |
| Seen queer sights, I ’ll be bound: | |
| I think folks sleep beneath the deep | 95 |
| As calm as under ground.” | |
| |
| “But Dick and Dolly?” “Well, poor Dick! | |
| I saw him rise and cling | |
| Unto the gunwale of the boat,— | |
| Floating keel up,—and sing | 100 |
| Out loud, ‘Where ’s Doll?’—I hear him yet, | |
| As clear as anything. | |
| |
| “‘Where ’s Dolly?’ I no answer made; | |
| For she dropped like a stone | |
| Down through the deep sea,—and it closed: | 105 |
| The little thing was gone. | |
| ‘Where ’s Doll?’ three times,—then Dick loosed hold, | |
| And left me there alone. * * * * * | |
| “It ’s five and forty year since then,” | |
| Muttered the boatman gray, | 110 |
| And drew his rough hand o’er his eyes, | |
| And stared across the bay; | |
| “Just five and forty year!” and not | |
| Another word did say. | |
| |
| “But Dolly?” ask the children all. | 115 |
| As they about him stand;— | |
| “Poor Doll! she floated back next tide | |
| With seaweed in her hand. | |
| She ’s buried o’er that hill you see, | |
| In a churchyard on land. | 120 |
| |
| “But where Dick lies, God knows! He ’ll find | |
| Our Dick at judgment day.”— | |
| The boatman fell to mending nets, | |
| The boys ran off to play; | |
| And the sun shone and the waves danced | 125 |
| In quiet Swanage Bay. | |
| |
