Reference > Anthologies > Warner, et al., eds. > The Library > Verse

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
The White Squall
By William Makepeace Thackeray (1811–1863)
ON deck, beneath the awning,
I dozing lay and yawning;
It was the gray of dawning,
  Ere yet the sun arose;
And above the funnel’s roaring,        5
And the fitful winds’ deploring,
I heard the cabin snoring
  With universal nose.
I could hear the passengers snorting,
I envied their disporting—        10
Vainly I was courting
  The pleasure of a doze!
So I lay, and wondered why light
Came not, and watched the twilight,
And the glimmer of the skylight,        15
  That shot across the deck,
And the binnacle pale and steady,
And the dull glimpse of the dead-eye,
And the sparks in fiery eddy
  That whirled from the chimney neck.        20
In our jovial floating prison
There was sleep from fore to mizzen,
And never a star had risen
  The hazy sky to speck.
Strange company we harbored;        25
We’d a hundred Jews to larboard,
Unwashed, uncombed, unbarbered—
  Jews black, and brown, and gray:
With terror it would seize ye,
And make your souls uneasy,        30
To see those Rabbis greasy,
  Who did naught but scratch and pray:
Their dirty children puking—
Their dirty saucepans cooking—
Their dirty fingers hooking        35
  Their swarming fleas away.
To starboard, Turks and Greeks were—
Whiskered and brown their cheeks were—
Enormous wide their breeks were,
  Their pipes did puff alway;        40
Each on his mat allotted
In silence smoked and squatted,
Whilst round their children trotted
  In pretty, pleasant play.
He can’t but smile who traces        45
The smiles on those brown faces,
And the pretty prattling graces
  Of those small heathens gay.
And so the hours kept tolling,
And through the ocean rolling        50
Went the brave Iberia bowling
  Before the break of day—
When A SQUALL, upon a sudden,
Came o’er the waters scudding:
And the clouds began to gather,        55
And the sea was lashed to lather,
And the lowering thunder grumbled,
And the lightning jumped and tumbled,
And the ship, and all the ocean,
Woke up in wild commotion.        60
Then the wind set up a howling,
And the poodle dog a yowling,
And the cocks began a crowing,
And the old cow raised a lowing,
As she heard the tempest blowing;        65
And fowls and geese did cackle,
And the cordage and the tackle
Began to shriek and crackle;
And the spray dashed o’er the funnels,
And down the deck in runnels;        70
And the rushing water soaks all,
From the seamen in the fo’ksal
To the stokers whose black faces
Peer out of their bed places;
And the captain he was bawling,        75
And the sailors pulling, hauling,
And the quarter-deck tarpauling
Was shivered in the squalling;
And the passengers awaken,
Most pitifully shaken;        80
And the steward jumps up, and hastens
For the necessary basins.
Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered,
And they knelt, and moaned, and shivered,
As the plunging waters met them        85
And splashed and overset them:
And they call in their emergence
Upon countless saints and virgins;
And their marrowbones are bended,
And they think the world is ended.        90
And the Turkish women for’ard
Were frightened and behorror’d;
And shrieking and bewildering,
The mothers clutched their children;
The men sang “Allah! Illah!        95
Mashallah Bismillah!”
As the warring waters doused them,
And splashed them and soused them,
And they called upon the Prophet,
And thought but little of it.        100
Then all the fleas in Jewry
Jumped up and bit like fury;
And the progeny of Jacob
Did on the main-deck wake up
(I wot those greasy Rabbins        105
Would never pay for cabins);
And each man moaned and jabbered in
His filthy Jewish gaberdine,
In woe and lamentation,
And howling consternation.        110
And the splashing water drenches
Their dirty brats and wenches;
And they crawl from bales and benches
In a hundred thousand stenches.
This was the White Squall famous,        115
Which latterly o’ercame us,
And which all will well remember
On the 28th September;
When a Prussian captain of Lancers
(Those tight-laced, whiskered prancers)        120
Came on the deck astonished,
By that wild squall admonished,
And wondering cried, “Potztausend!
Wie ist der Sturm jetzt brausend!”
And looked at Captain Lewis,        125
Who calmly stood and blew his
Cigar in all the bustle,
And scorned the tempest’s tussle.
And oft we’ve thought thereafter
How he beat the storm to laughter;        130
For well he knew his vessel
With that vain wind could wrestle;
And when a wreck we thought her,
And doomed ourselves to slaughter,
How gayly he fought her,        135
And through the hubbub brought her,
And as the tempest caught her,
And when, its force expended,
The harmless storm was ended,        140
And as the sunrise splendid
Came blushing o’er the sea,
I thought, as day was breaking,
My little girls were waking,
And smiling, and making        145
A prayer at home for me.

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