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Rh Wrecked was their patron's only day—

What would the holy fathers say?

Said the Fray Antonio Estavan,

The galleon's chaplain—a learned man—

Nothing is lost that you can regain:

And the way to look for a thing, is plain

To go where you lost it, back again.

Back with your galleon till you see

The hundred and eightieth degree.

Wait till the rolling year goes round,

And there will the missing day be found.

For you'll find—if computation 's true,

That sailing East will give to you

Not only one ninth of May, but two—

One for the good saint's present cheer,

And one for the day we lost last year."

Back to the spot sailed the galleon;

Where, for a twelve-month, off and on

The hundred and eightieth degree,

She rose and fell on a tropic sea.