| |
| | That night, when through the mooring-chains |
| The wide-eyed corpse rolled free, |
| To blunder down by Garden Reach |
| And rot at Kedgeree, |
| The tale the Hughli told the shoal |
| The lean shoal told to me. |
’TWAS Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house, | |
| Where sailor-men reside, | |
| And there were men of all the ports | |
| From Mississip to Clyde, | |
| And regally they spat and smoked, | 5 |
| And fearsomely they lied. | |
| |
| They lied about the purple Sea | |
| That gave them scanty bread, | |
| They lied about the Earth beneath, | |
| The Heavens overhead, | 10 |
| For they had looked too often on | |
| Black rum when that was red. | |
| |
| They told their tales of wreck and wrong, | |
| Of shame and lust and fraud, | |
| They backed their toughest statements with | 15 |
| The Brimstone of the Lord, | |
| And crackling oaths went to and fro | |
| Across the fist-banged board. | |
| |
| And there was Hans the blue-eyed Dane, | |
| Bull-throated, bare of arm, | 20 |
| Who carried on his hairy chest | |
| The maid Ultruda’s charm— | |
| The little silver crucifix | |
| That keeps a man from harm. | |
| |
| And there was Jake Without-the-Ears, | 25 |
| And Pamba the Malay, | |
| And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook, | |
| And Luz from Vigo Bay, | |
| And Honest Jack who sold them slops | |
| And harvested their pay. | 30 |
| |
| And there was Salem Hardieker, | |
| A lean Bostonian he— | |
| Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, Finn, | |
| Yank, Dane, and Portuguee, | |
| At Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house | 35 |
| They rested from the sea. | |
| |
| Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks, | |
| Collinga knew her fame, | |
| From Tarnau in Galicia | |
| To Jaun Bazaar she came, | 40 |
| To eat the bread of infamy | |
| And take the wage of shame. | |
| |
| She held a dozen men to heel— | |
| Rich spoil of war was hers, | |
| In hose and gown and ring and chain, | 45 |
| From twenty mariners, | |
| And, by Port Law, that week, men called | |
| Her Salem Hardieker’s. | |
| |
| But seamen learnt—what landsmen know— | |
| That neither gifts nor gain | 50 |
| Can hold a winking Light o’ Love | |
| Or Fancy’s flight restrain, | |
| When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes | |
| On Hans the blue-eyed Dane. | |
| |
| Since Life is strife, and strife means knife, | 55 |
| From Howrah to the Bay, | |
| And he may die before the dawn | |
| Who liquored out the day, | |
| In Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house | |
| We woo while yet we may. | 60 |
| |
| But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane, | |
| Bull-throated, bare of arm, | |
| And laughter shook the chest beneath | |
| The maid Ultruda’s charm— | |
| The little silver crucifix | 65 |
| That keeps a man from harm. | |
| |
| “You speak to Salem Hardieker; | |
| “You was his girl, I know. | |
| “I ship mineselfs to-morrow, see, | |
| “Und round the Skaw we go, | 70 |
| “South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm, | |
| “To Besser in Saro.” | |
| |
| When love rejected turns to hate, | |
| All ill betide the man. | |
| “You speak to Salem Hardieker”— | 75 |
| She spoke as woman can. | |
| A scream—a sob—“He called me—names!” | |
| And then the fray began. | |
| |
| An oath from Salem Hardieker, | |
| A shriek upon the stairs, | 80 |
| A dance of shadows on the wall, | |
| A knife-thrust unawares— | |
| And Hans came down, as cattle drop, | |
| Across the broken chairs. * * * * * | |
| In Anne of Austria’s trembling hands | 85 |
| The weary head fell low:— | |
| “I ship mineselfs to-morrow, straight | |
| “For Besser in Saro; | |
| “Und there Ultruda comes to me | |
| “At Easter, und I go | 90 |
| |
| “South, down the Cattegat—What’s here? | |
| “There—are—no—lights—to—guide!” | |
| The mutter ceased, the spirit passed, | |
| And Anne of Austria cried | |
| In Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house | 95 |
| When Hans the mighty died. | |
| |
| Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane, | |
| Bull-throated, bare of arm, | |
| But Anne of Austria looted first | |
| The maid Ultruda’s charm— | 100 |
| The little silver crucifix | |
| That keeps a man from harm. | |
| |
