Page:The Garden of Years.djvu/79

 Tripoli

Bulging her sails till the sea sang low at the touch of her

slender prore, And she leapt, with the joy of a living soul, through the

narrow channel 'twixt reef and shoal, And ran, like a racer, toward the goal of the tall black

hull inshore ! But the brig lay to on the darkening blue of the offing, a

mile outside,

And watched the ketch on the rippling stretch of the fort- girt harbor ride, Till out of the light she slid from sight, tackle, and sails,

and mast, Undismayed, in the sombre shade that the hull of the

frigate cast.

Now the staunch Sicilian pilot cried to them that leaned on

the frigate's side : "This is the Stella of Malta, with her anchors swept

away, And her cables, too, to the very last, when the storm of

yester night went past.

So we crave your leave to take a fast from your quarter until the day."

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