Page:Once a Week Volume 8.djvu/610

602 Out with the boat there!” some one cried;

Will he never come? we shall lose the tide:

His berth is trim, and his cabin stored;

He’s a weary long time coming on board!”

The old man struggled, and clutch’d the bed,

He knew the words that the voices said;

Wildly he yell’d, as his eyes grew dim,

He was dead! he was dead! when I buried him!”

Hark yet again to the devilish roar!

He was nimbler once with a ship on shore;

Come, come, old man! ’tis a vain delay!

We shall make the offing by break of day!”

Hard was the struggle, but at the last,

With a stormy pang, old Mawgan pass’d;

And away, away! beneath their sight,

Gleam’d the Red Sail at pitch of nightnight. [sic] R. S. H.