Skip to main content
LEGEND OF THE SOUTH SEAS .

PART I.

THE VOYAGE .

To song and shout, and deep-mouthed hail
The good ship rose and fell,
As tier on tier the glancing sail
Soared to the chorus swell.
" Haul cheerily ho! away we go!
Together, with a will!
Aloft, alow, the white cloth show,
Together cheerily still! "

They swayed and bowed with toil and strain,
They made nor pause nor check,
Till length on length of clanking chain
Was measured on the deck.
" Heave gaily round, we're outward bound
For southern seas, hurrah!
Now to, now fro, so, cheerily so,
The anchor is a-weigh! "

Then slowly filling to the gale,
And slowly wheeling wide,
From plank to pennon plumed with sail,
She swept adown the tide.
" Hurrah! the sea is on our lee,
The rousing gale astern!
She moves, she goes, a cheer for those
Who look for our return! "

The blue-orbed sea was on her lee,
In chase the rousing wind,
And squared before it, running free,
She left the port behind.
Past where by night the jutting steep
Upraised its kindled spire,
As though an angel watched the deep
With brandished sword of fire.

" Away, away, with a fav'ring breeze
To hunt the great sperm whale,
We're outward bound for the far South Seas,
Before the northern gale.
Cheer twice and thrice for the fields of ice
Where we'll harpoon the whale;
Then wide and high, from deck to sky,
Pile ev'ry spar with sail! "

She sped with laden mast and spar,
Sun-smitten, weather-bowed,
White as a cataract seen afar,
As she leaned against a cloud.
By many a pillared steep and height,
With crescent bays between,
Past reef and islet ringed with white,
And headlands humped with green.

Till when the day sank bit by bit,
Into the tomb of night,
And on the dark in stars was writ
The epitaph of light.
Beneath the moon chased far and fast,
A swift and spectral shape;
By shadowy forelands gliding past,
Star-led from cape to cape;

By sudden meteors beckoned on,
By steadfast planets drawn;
From lurid torch to beacon wan,
She sped from dusk to dawn.
And night and day still held her way
When long the land had flown,
And she, perforce, must shape her course
By heav'n's fair lights alone.

Before her prow a widening arch
Of fresh horizon grew,
Where with the night's triumphal march
New splendours rose to view.
The Pole-star's northern reign was o'er,
The Plough no longer glowed,
And fall'n Orion now no more
Across the zenith strode.

Crown jewels of the Southern pole,
The tropic night put on,
And Argo climbed to scale the goal,
Where late Orion shone.
And while the skies thus changed their look
Their splendour knew no loss,
When in the zenith blazed and shook
The glorious Southern Cross.

But many a day of tempest dim,
And many a night of fear,
Was passed, ere on the ocean's rim
They saw it first appear.
And many a night becalmed, and day
Of breathless, burning light,
Ere blazoned on the Milky Way
It crowned the arch of night.

Still southward — through the torrid seas,
Past surf-bound tufts of palms,
And witched in waters where no breeze
Stirs the tranced zone of calms.
Where all the sails drooped dead, and low
The listless pennon hung,
And round and round, and to and fro,
The vessel idly swung.

With stooping masts — with decks foam-strewn,
And prow wrapped white in spray,
She fled before the fierce monsoon,
A hundred leagues a day;
While writhing shafts came stalking o'er
The deep in whirling routs,
And sky and sea were roof and floor
To aisles of water-spouts.

Still southward — through the lengthening days,
And lingering twilights dim,
Till morn chased midnight with its rays
Behind the ocean's rim.
And fleets of icebergs sailed in files,
Tall phantoms pale in shrouds,
Till seemed the sea thus thronged for miles,
A firmament of clouds.

And like the clouds where Heaven breaks through
Their shining folds of white,
Those fronts of ice were veined with blue
Where lifted to the light.
Some stooped their polished flanks to lean
O'er bases burrowed through,
Scooped by the wave in arches green,
Or infinitely blue.

They soared in flames to meet the day,
As though the ocean burned —
Or quenched in twilight's ashen grey,
To livid corpses turned.
The noon-day sun their summits smote
With pale prismatic sheen,
Or clothed them, like the peacock's throat,
In woven blue and green.

A spectral army northward driven
The self-same path for years,
They reared against the verge of Heaven,
A host of silver spears.
And sometimes clashed in battle-shock,
Like Titans in the lists,
And hurled in thunder cliff and rock,
Through rising ocean mists.

Within their shadow herds of whale
Like floating islands lay,
Or churned the deep with fin and tail
To wakes of silver spray.
With eager shout the boats shot out,
Eight oars were bent as one,
Each marked a prey and on her way
Went glancing in the sun.

Then flew the spears — then plunged the whale,
And out the cable ran,
And as she rose, to shout and hail
Once more the chase began.
And o'er the sea for miles it went,
Till, spouting blood and spray,
'Mid crimsoned foam, all gashed and spent,
A helpless hulk she lay.

So fast the ship sank neath her load,
That ere the winter night,
Above the wave she barely showed
Her chequered zone of white.
'Twixt icebergs to the frozen sea
Now linked in clanking foam,
While yet a pathway was left free,
Her head was turned towards home.

PART II.

THE CURSE .

" Hurrah for home! o'er leagues of foam,
Half earth and ocean round,
Come breeze or gale, pack on all sail,
To speed the Homeward-bound!
Blow fair, blow soul, smile heaven or scowl,
We reck not of your wrath,
And scarcely care for foul or fair,
Upon our homeward path! "

The midnight watch would sometimes stay,
Leaned o'er the moonlit foam,
To watch how well she cleft her way,
And talk of friends and home.
And lips unused their speech to mar,
From oath and curse were stayed
By thought of some one yet afar,
Who watched at home and prayed.

The frost-bound icebergs soon were passed,
Then outposts one by one,
Still straggling north, but wasting fast,
Beneath the torrid sun.
The Cape was cleared, still north they steered,
Through a dull furnace glow;
They scarce could speak, and ere a week,
Their water-casks ran low.

The shore and sky were ashen white,
The sea dull leaden grey,
And through livid haze burned the smouldering light
Of a brazen sun all day.
A fainting air came off the land,
And died along the deep,
The pennon raised, the topsails fanned,
Then sighed itself to sleep.

The captain fixed an anxious gaze,
With frown and muttered oath,
On sinking sun and rising haze,
Then turned and cursed them both.
He searched the shore with eager eye,
No opening met his view,
And then he raised his glance to try
If yet the topsails drew.

They drew, and though no breath below
The slackened courses swelled,
Or stirred the sea, still full and free
Her onward way she held.
Still on her right stretched faint and white
A flickering film of land,
While northward lay across her way,
A palm-crowned tongue of sand.

'Twas gained, 'twas cleared, and then appeared,
By anxious gazers scanned,
An inlet wide, and far inside,
A hollow curve of strand.
The sails were trimmed, as fresh'ning more
The breeze came off the bay,
And stretching to the farther shore.
In one long tack she lay.

Then round she came, and back they stood,
To find that they had failed
To weather by a single rood,
The spot from which they sailed.
The captain thundered at the men,
And loud and fiercely swore,
He took the helm, and back again,
Across the bay she bore.

Once more she left the point behind,
With all the sheets hauled home,
And sails trimmed closer to the wind,
That freshened o'er the foam.
They could not tell how it befell,
Close to the wind she lay,
Yet failed once more 'twixt shore and shore,
To gain one inch of way.

So as to wanderers in a maze,
The hours of day went by,
The sun dropped down into the haze,
And a film came o'er the sky.
The fog stole up, the scud crept down,
From north to south it grew,
Stretched east and west, from central crown
To lowest verge of blue.

Till soaring mist and trailing cloud
Hemmed in the narrowing view,
And round the ship a ghostly shroud
In shrinking circle drew.
So thick it settled o'er her now,
That ere she tacked once more,
They heard the surf beneath her bow,
Yet could not see the shore.

To where the captain paced intent,
With darkly knitted brow,
A grey-haired seaman boldly went,
And stood before him now.
" I've sailed these seas for many a year,
In many a voyage south,
And well I know the inlet here,
'Tis a great river's mouth.

" When the long droughts have parched the plains,
Its bed is nearly dried,
But now, swollen high with mountain rains,
No ship may stem its tide.
Its scour and sweep hurl back the deep,
In eddying floods at bay,
And none may win these points within,
Or in yon waters stay.

" In yonder haven none may ride,
No anchor there could hold,
Where chafed like pebbles in the tide,
The granite rocks are rolled. "
The captain's brow grew dark as night,
The captain's eye flashed fire,
And though the speaker's hair was white,
He smote him in his ire.

" How dare you bring to me, " he cried,
" Such dotard's tales as these!
Though all the fiends were in the tide,
I'll hold what course I please.
I swear that from yon port to-night,
I'll not be scared or driven,
To keep me out till morning light
I dare the power of Heaven.

" Ere morn I'll moor my ship inside,
Though Angels bar the way,
Else may I, beating in this tide,
Abide the Judgment Day! "
As thus he spoke, defiance woke
In all who listened near,
And from the thirsty crew there broke,
A loud applauding cheer.

The grey-haired seaman had not stirred,
But stood before him there,
Till when he heard that dreadful word,
He crossed himself in prayer.
And straight a gust swooped on the ship,
And struck her all aback,
And like a steed that feels the whip,
She swerved from off her track.

The sails broke loose — the yards flew round,
And rope and shroud swung free,
The seaman in their tackle wound,
Was hurled into the sea.
He sank in falling from the height,
And when he rose once more,
Through fog and haze, and gathering night,
He saw nor ship nor shore.

But scarcely had he breathed to Heaven,
One mute and heart-felt prayer,
When by the waves against him driven,
A floating cask was there.
He had not feared, but now again
For life he fiercely craved,
And with the clutch of drowning men,
He grasped it, and was saved.

The gust brought up a pall for night.
And tore her veil away,
The tattered shreds of mist took flight,
And settled o'er the bay.
The ship was folded in a cloud,
From earth, and sea, and sky,
And no man's glance has pierced that shroud
Save when his end was nigh.

Resounding to the thunder's din,
Down stooped the dark, as though
The arch of heaven were falling in,
On all things here below.
Its roof in rifts of glory broke,
Abyss flamed unto height,
And the dead heart of midnight woke,
Convulsed, in throbs of light.

The void profound was stirred with sound.
And quick with stings of fire,
And echoing far, from star to star,
Pealed heaven's tremendous choir,
Those flaming shafts whose torment wrung
All secrets from the dark,
Pierced not the shield of shadow flung
Around the fated bark.

But when the wrath of the typhoon,
In devastating sweep,
With midnight in its heart at noon,
Is loosed upon the deep.
And in its clutches onward whirled,
All helpless and forlorn,
With naked spars and canvas furled,
Some crippled ship is borne.

Drowned deep in spray, the destined prey
Of ocean's gaping jaws,
Still blindly stumbling on her way,
With many a dizzy pause.
She sees a vessel tall with sail,
Uplifted as a tower,
Drive like a cloud before the gale,
Yet stoop not to its power;

With drift on drift of snowy cloth,
Wreathed high on mast and spar
Tempting the hurricane's wild wrath,
Swift as a shooting star.
The waters smoke — the whirlwinds wake,
Their chaos is her home,
And from her prow in lightnings break
The splintered sheaves of foam.

A wraith along the deep she goes,
Till nearing swift and pale,
Upon the fated wreck she throws
The shadow of her sail.
And through the storm with hollow chime,
A spectral hail they hear,
" How goes the world? Methinks 'twere time
That Doomsday should appear! "
Rate this poem
No votes yet