A BURIAL AT SEA

107

Andy Mack's at rest out there, a hundred fathom

down,

And young Byce is with him, and they'd cheer to see me ride

Past the reach of hungry waves, below the lowest tide,

Into some green, weedy harbor of the deep sea's under side,

Where the Lord gives peace to sailor men and good ships when they drown!

Helen Ives Gilchrist

A BURIAL AT SEA

And one of the missionary women thought

That there wasn't much to be said for the dead

Like a Christian or a Turk, or any one else.
And we rigged a platform out of dunnage
From the number two hatch to the rail,
And had a plank ready to balance the body on.
At six bells the crew was mustered forward.
The passengers looked on from the bridge deck,
While a Wisconsin missionary, in a blue serge
suit,

Read the burial service for the dead.

And we all bowed stiffly as he led in prayer,

With the hot sun stinging on our bended necks. "Thine is the Kingdom and the Power Repeated here and there in a voice like the rattle

Of a heel block under the winch's fall;
"And the Glory for Ever and Ever. Amen.”
Then we stretched a new British flag

Over the canvas on the balanced plank,

The skipper called to the officer on the bridge, "Give them slow bell in the engine room."

The telegraph rattled. And the ship began to roll

Heavily and slow as she lost headway.

"Ashes... Dust... let him be thrown into the sea."

Chips raised one end of the plank,

And the body slid away

From under the shelter of the flag,

And out of human keeping

Splash!

The telegraph rattled once more,

And the ship began to steady under way.

The passengers all talked.

The Bos'n's gang went back to chipping rust.

The quartermaster at the wheel

Struck seven bells in pairs, with the odd one

Left over for the hour.

A lady went by, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief,

And the missionary from Wisconsin paused to bewail

The cheapness of life in the East,

While an ape-like Filipino boy

Argued that Hindus are a kind of monkey

Not to be classed as human.

A. Binns

THE WARD ROOM TOAST

OUT OF THE FOG

109

Out of the fog Death rode with great, still bows;

Then ship met ship with horrid agony

Steel locked and broke... the bloodied faces stared

With sudden understanding at the sea.

All movement ceased; the world was sick and still

Then footsteps beat the buckled deck, and cries Began... and all the humanness was gone,

And light and life were little vanished lies.

And there were women futile, precious things; And round-faced babies that they clutched and kissed,

And tearing wood, and the white name of God,

And dead men dropping blackly through the mist.

Then through that hell a lad stood smiling, calm: "Here, ma'am... take my belt... Hurry now Good-by."

Came the last shudder of the broken ship—

And Youth once more had taught us how to die! Dana Burnet

For Jack at sea do they grow soft and kind,

May memories come to keep the tears away.

Beneath strange suns we've sailed the Seven Seas,
Where woman's glance the Yankee sailor lures;
Our flag has fluttered in the Orient breeze,
But never have we met with eyes like yours.

Sweethearts and wives-speeding across the sky We send our longing message-"Here's to you,"

The girls we love the gallant flag we fly-
The hearts that tremble for the boys in blue.

See- clear a beacon glows beyond the foam,
Steady and warm its welcome never dies;
Ah, keep it burning for us there at home,

The sailor's star- the lovelight in your eyes!

Now once again, boys-steady there-stand by!

A glass with you, sir now then-three times three!

"The Stars and Stripes forever! Bumpers dryOur flag- our ship-our hearts across the sea!" Anonymous

SEALED ORDERS

From the Golden Gate where the sunsets wait,
Through the smooth Pacific seas,

While the day grows dim, in our war paint grim,

On our beam the orange trees.

By light after light, through the soundless night, Past cape and headland drear,

SEALED ORDERS

III

While the shaded light, from the binnacle bright, Shows the compass card swing clear.

"East, south-east!"

"Aye, Aye, Sir! East, south-east!"

O'er the tropic seas, when the faint land-breeze, Scarce stirs the awnings, spread,

When the hand-rails burn, and the wake astern, Seems cut in a sea of lead.

When the men drop fast, to the fire-hold's blast, And a watch seems a thousand years,

To her course held true

to sky-line blue

Still onward our vessel steers.

"South, half-west!"

"Aye, Aye, Sir! South, half-west!"

There is ice in the air, and our decks are bare,
While the bridge is white with spray.

But there's work to do, so our wheel's held true,
And our twin guns point the way.

Under battened hatch, our engines match

Their might to the "blind Horn's" wrath
While, to port, on the shore, the breakers roar

As we speed on our ocean path.

"East-nor'-east!"

"Aye, Aye, Sir! East

nor'-east!"

There's a message hid by the big oak lid,

Of the Captain's desk, locked fast,

But the good news grows and the cook's-mate

knows

There's a fight in sight, at last.