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index 90c503a..47b4da4 100644
--- a/41944.txt
+++ b/41944-0.txt
@@ -1,35 +1,4 @@
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Patrol, by John Graham Bower and Klaxon
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: On Patrol
-
-Author: John Graham Bower
- Klaxon
-
-Release Date: January 29, 2013 [EBook #41944]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ASCII
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON PATROL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by sp1nd, Mary Akers and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41944 ***
Transcriber's note:
Spelling and punctuation inconsistencies, mainly quotes that
@@ -564,9 +533,9 @@ AN ADMINISTRATIVE VICTORY.
Pipe the side or stern or bow, stand to attention smartly now--
Wherever he comes aboard."
- The Admiral landed Cabre-wise
+ The Admiral landed Cabré-wise
And high the fountains burst--
- (What is the meaning of Cabre-wise? To men of the air it signifies--
+ (What is the meaning of Cabré-wise? To men of the air it signifies--
His after-end was first).
They piped the side, and still they stood
@@ -735,7 +704,7 @@ A NIGHTMARE.
When the cannon ceased abruptly and they heard the Germans cheer,
And a sergeant entered roaring, "Himmel, Ach! was Schmutz ist hier!
Mask your faces, pig-dogs, quickly--all the room is full of gas.
- Vorwaerts, Carl der Kindermoerder--use your bayonet, Saxon ass!"
+ Vorwärts, Carl der Kindermörder--use your bayonet, Saxon ass!"
Faithful to the last, the Chairman, spying strangers all around,
Told them they were out of order; hardly seemed to touch the ground.
Told them of his best intentions, how with love of them he burned,
@@ -2299,358 +2268,4 @@ OVERDUE.
End of Project Gutenberg's On Patrol, by John Graham Bower and Klaxon
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON PATROL ***
-
-***** This file should be named 41944.txt or 41944.zip *****
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+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41944 ***
diff --git a/41944-8.txt b/41944-8.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index a4e783b..0000000
--- a/41944-8.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,2656 +0,0 @@
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Patrol, by John Graham Bower and Klaxon
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: On Patrol
-
-Author: John Graham Bower
- Klaxon
-
-Release Date: January 29, 2013 [EBook #41944]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON PATROL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by sp1nd, Mary Akers and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-Transcriber's note:
- Spelling and punctuation inconsistencies, mainly quotes that
- had not been closed, have been harmonized. Italic text has
- been marked with _underscores_.
-
-
-
-
-ON PATROL
-
-
-
-
- ON PATROL
-
- BY
- KLAXON
- AUTHOR OF 'H. M. S. ----'
-
-
- William Blackwood and Sons
- Edinburgh and London
- 1919
-
-
-
-
-_TO D. V. B._
-
-
- They watch us leaving harbour for the greatest game of all,
- And wonder if we're coming back across the greedy sea;
- They never know the fighting thrill or high adventure's call--
- I rather think the women folk are better men than we.
- But I suspect they say of us as out to sea we go,
- In all our panoply of pride from Orkney to the Nore:
- "It keeps them quiet, we suppose--they like the work, we know--
- And soon perhaps they'll tire and play some safer game than War."
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
-
- PAGE
-
- TO---- 1
-
- OLD WOMEN 5
-
- CHIN UP 9
-
- "... THAT HAVE NO DOUBTS" 15
-
- SKY SIGNS 21
-
- AN ENTENTE 27
-
- A BATTLE-PRAYER 33
-
- SUBMARINES 35
-
- THE BATTLE-FLEET 36
-
- DESTROYERS 37
-
- AN ADMINISTRATIVE VICTORY 39
-
- A NIGHTMARE 49
-
- RELEASED 57
-
- REGULUS 63
-
- A NORTH SEA NOTE 67
-
- SOMETHING WRONG 73
-
- WE 77
-
- THE SAILOR'S VIEW 83
-
- STONEWALL JACKSON 89
-
- WET SHIPS 93
-
- THAT BLINKIN' CAT 99
-
- 1797 105
-
- AFTER THE WAR 109
-
- LOW VISIBILITY 117
-
- HANG ON 123
-
- TO FRITZ 129
-
- TO THE SCOTTISH REGIMENTS 135
-
- PRIVILEGED 141
-
- "OUR ANNUAL" 147
-
- MASCOTS 151
-
- A HYMN OF DISGUST 157
-
- A TRINITY 165
-
- IN THE MORNING 173
-
- IN FORTY WEST 179
-
- A RING AXIOM 183
-
- THE QUARTERMASTER 187
-
- IN THE BARRED ZONE 193
-
- WHO CARES? 199
-
- THE UNCHANGING SEX 203
-
- LOOKING AFT 209
-
- A MAXIM 215
-
- THE CRISIS 219
-
- A SEA CHANTY 223
-
- A.D. 400 229
-
- OVERDUE 233
-
-
-
-
-TO----
-
-
-
-
-TO----.
-
-
- He went to sea on the long patrol,
- Away to the East from the Corton Shoal,
- But now he's overdue.
- He signalled me as he bore away
- (A flickering lamp through leaping spray,
- And darkness then till judgment day),
- "So long! Good luck to you!"
-
- He's waiting out on the long patrol,
- Till the names are called at the muster-roll
- Of seamen overdue.
- Far above him, in wind and rain,
- Another is on patrol again--
- The gap is closed in the Naval Chain
- Where all the links are new.
-
- Over his head the seas are white,
- And the wind is blowing a gale to-night,
- As if the Storm-King knew,
- And roared a ballad of sleet and snow
- To the man that lies on the sand below,
- A trumpet-song for the winds to blow
- To seamen overdue.
-
- Was it sudden or slow--the death that came?
- Roaring water or sheets of flame?
- The end with none to view?
- No man can tell us the way he died,
- But over the clouds Valkyries ride
- To open the gates and hold them wide
- For seamen overdue.
-
- But whether the end was swift or slow,
- By the Hand of God, or a German blow,
- My messmate overdue--
- You went to Death--and the whisper ran
- As over the Gates the horns began,
- _Splendour of God! We have found a man_--
- Good-bye! Good luck to you!
-
-
-
-
-OLD WOMEN
-
-
-
-
-OLD WOMEN.
-
-
- Faint against the twilight, dim against the evening,
- Fading into darkness against the lapping sea,
- She sailed away from harbour, from safety into danger,
- The ship that took him from me--my sailor boy from me.
-
- He went away to join her, from me that loved and bore him,
- Loved him ere I bore him, that was all the world to me.
- "No time for leave, mother, must be back this evening,
- Time for our patrol again, across the winter sea."
-
- Six times over, since he went to join her,
- Came he to see me, to run back again.
- "Four hours' leave, mother--still got the steam up,
- Going on patrol to-night--the old East lane."
-
- "Seven times lucky, and perhaps we'll have a battle,
- Then I'll bring a medal back and give it you to keep."
- And his name is in the paper, with close upon a hundred,
- Who lie there beside him, many fathom deep.
-
- And beside him in the paper, somebody is writing,
- --God! but how I hate him--a liar and a fool,--
- "Where is the British Navy--is it staying in the harbours?
- Has the Nelson spirit in the Fleet begun to cool?"
-
-
-
-
-CHIN UP
-
-
-
-
-CHIN UP.
-
-
- Are the prices high and taxes stiff, is the prospect sad and dark?
- Have you seen your capital dwindle down as low as the German mark?
- Do you feel your troubles around you rise in an endless dreary wall?
- Well--thank your God you were born in time for the Greatest War of all.
-
- It will be all right in a thousand years--you won't be bankrupt then.
- This isn't the time of stocks and shares, it's just the age of men.
- The one that sticks it out will win--so don't lie down and bawl,
- But thank your God you've helped to win the noblest War of all.
-
- Away to the East in Flanders' mud, through Dante's dream of Hell,
- The troops are working hard for peace with bayonet, bomb, and shell,
- With poison gas and roaring guns beneath a smoking pall;
- Yes--thank your God your kin are there--the finest troops of all.
-
- You may be stripped of all you have--it may be all you say,
- But you'll have your life and eyesight left, so stow your talk of pay.
- You won't be dead in a bed of lime with those that heard the Call;
- So thank your God you've an easy job in the Greatest War of all.
-
- It isn't the money that's going to count when the Flanders' men return,
- And a shake of your hand from Flanders' men is a thing you've
- got to earn.
- Just think how cold it's going to be in the Nation's Judgment Hall;
- So damn your troubles and find your soul in the Greatest War of all!
-
-
-
-
-"... THAT HAVE NO DOUBTS"
-
-
-
-
-"... THAT HAVE NO DOUBTS."
-
- --RUDYARD KIPLING.
-
-
- _The last resort of Kings are we, but the voice of peoples too_--
- Ask the guns of Valmy Ridge--
- Lost at the Beresina Bridge,
- When the Russian guns were roaring death and the Guard was
- charging through.
-
- _Ultima Ratio Regis, we--but he who has may hold,_
- Se curantes Dei curant,
- Hear the gunners that strain and pant,
- As when before the rising gale the Great Armada rolled.
-
- _Guns of fifty--sixty tons that roared at Jutland fight_,
- Clatter and clang of hoisting shell;
- See the flame where the salvo fell
- Amidst the flash of German guns against the wall of white.
-
- _The sons of English carronade or Spanish culverin_--
- The Danish windows shivered and broke
- When over the sea the children spoke,
- And groaning turrets rocked again as we went out and in.
-
- _We have no passions to call our own, we work for serf or lord,_
- Load us well and sponge us clean--
- Be your woman a slave or queen--
- And we will clear the road for you who hold us by the sword.
-
- _We come into our own again and wake to life anew_--
- Put your paper and pens away,
- For the whole of the world is ours to-day,
- And we shall do the talking now to smooth the way for you.
-
- _Howitzer gun or Seventy-five, the game is ours to play,_
- And hills may quiver and mountains shake,
- But the line in front shall bend or break.
- What is it to us if the world is mad? For we are the Kings to-day.
-
-
-
-
-SKY SIGNS
-
-
-
-
-SKY SIGNS.
-
-
- WHEN ALL THE GUNS ARE SPONGED AND CLEANED, AND FUZES GO TO STORE,
- WHEN ALL THE WIRELESS STATIONS CRY--"COME HOME, YOU SHIPS OF WAR"--
- "COME HOME AGAIN AND LEAVE PATROL, NO MATTER WHERE YOU BE."
- We'll see the lights of England shine,
- Flashing again on the steaming line,
- As out of the dark the long grey hulls come rolling in from sea.
-
- THE LONG-FORGOTTEN LIGHTS WILL SHINE AND GILD THE CLOUDS AHEAD,
- OVER THE DARK HORIZON-LINE, ACROSS THE DREAMING DEAD
- THAT WENT TO SEA WITH THE DARK BEHIND AND THE SPIN OF A COIN BEFORE.
- Mark the gleam of Orfordness,
- Showing a road we used to guess,
- From the Shetland Isles to Dover cliffs--the shaded lane of war.
-
- UP THE CHANNEL WITH GLEAMING PORTS WILL HOMING SQUADRONS GO,
- AND SEE THE ENGLISH COAST ALIGHT WITH HEADLANDS ALL AGLOW
- WITH THIRTY THOUSAND CANDLE-POWER FLUNG UP FROM FAR GRIS-NEZ.
- Portland Bill and the Needles' Light--
- Tompions back in the guns to-night--
- For English lights are meeting French across the Soldiers' Way.
-
- WHEN WE COME BACK TO ENGLAND THEN, WITH ALL THE WARRING DONE,
- AND PAINT AND POLISH COME UP THE SIDE TO RULE ON TUBE AND GUN,
- WE'LL KNOW BEFORE THE ANCHOR'S DOWN, THE TIDINGS WON'T BE NEW.
- Lizard along to the Isle of Wight,
- Every lamp was burning bright,
- Northern Lights or Trinity House--we had the news from you!
-
-
-
-
-AN ENTENTE
-
-
-
-
-AN ENTENTE.
-
-
- AS we were running the Channel along, with a rising wind abeam,
- Steering home from an escort trip as fast as she could steam,
- I'd just come up, relieving Bill, to look for Fritz again,
- When I turns to the Skipper an', "Sir," I says, "I 'ears an aeroplane."
- An' sure enough, from out o' the clouds astern, we seed 'im come,
- An' down the wind the engine sang with a reg'lar oarin' 'um.
- The Skipper 'e puts 'is glasses down, an' smilin' says to me,
- "We needn't be pointin' guns at 'im--'e's one o' the R.F.C.
- We don't expect to meet the Boche, or any o' his machines,
- From here to France an' back again--except for submarines."
- An' 'e looks again at the 'plane above, an' says, "I do believe
- It's a fightin' bus--good luck to them--an' lots of London leave."
-
- An' jolly good luck, says I, says I,
- To you that's overhead;
- An' may you never go dry, go dry,
- Or want for a decent bed.
- With yer gaudy patch, says I, says I,
- Of Red an' White an' Blue--
- Oh, may the bullets go by, go by,
- An' not be findin' you.
- Astonishing luck, says I, says I,
- To you an' yer aeroplane;
- An' if it's yer joss to die, to die,
- When you go back again--
- May the enemy say as you drop below,
- An' you start your final dive:
- "Three of us left to see him go,
- An' it must be nice for him to know,
- That wasn't afraid o' five."
-
-
-
-
-A BATTLE-PRAYER
-
-
-
-
-A BATTLE-PRAYER.
-
-
-SUBMARINES.
-
- When the breaking wavelets pass all sparkling to the sky,
- When beyond their crests we see the slender masts go by,
- When the glimpses alternate in bubbles white and green,
- And funnels grey against the sky show clear and fair between,
- When the word is passed along--"Stern and beam and bow"--
- "Action stations fore and aft--all torpedoes now!"
- When the hissing tubes are still, as if with bated breath
- They waited for the word to loose the silver bolts of death,
- When the Watch beneath the Sea shall crown the great Desire,
- And hear the coughing rush of air that greets the word to fire,
- We'll ask for no advantage, Lord--but only we would pray
- That they may meet this boat of ours upon their outward way.
-
-
-THE BATTLE-FLEET.
-
- The moment we have waited long
- Is closing on us fast,
- When, cutting short the turret-gong,
- We'll hear the Cordite's Battle-song
- That hails the Day at last.
- The clashing rams come driving forth
- To meet the waiting shell,
- And far away to East and North
- Our targets steam to meet Thy Wrath,
- And dare the Gates of Hell.
- We do not ask Thee, Lord, to-day
- To stay the sinking sun--
- But hear Thy steel-clad servants pray,
- And keep, O Lord, Thy mists away
- Until Thy work is done.
-
-
-DESTROYERS.
-
- Through the dark night
- And the fury of battle
- Pass the destroyers in showers of spray.
- As the Wolf-pack to the flank of the cattle,
- We shall close in on them--shadows of grey.
- In from ahead,
- Through shell-flashes red,
- We shall come down to them, after the Day.
- Whistle and crash
- Of salvo and volley
- Round us and into us while we attack.
- Light on our target they'll flash in their folly,
- Splitting our ears with the shrapnel-crack.
-
- Fire as they will,
- We'll come to them still,
- Roar as they may at us--Back--Go Back!
- White though the sea
- To the shell-flashes foaming,
- We shall be there at the death of the Hun.
- Only we pray for a star in the gloaming
- (Light for torpedoes and none for a gun).
- Lord--of Thy Grace
- Make it a race,
- Over the sea with the night to run.
-
-
-
-
-AN ADMINISTRATIVE VICTORY
-
-
-
-
-AN ADMINISTRATIVE VICTORY.
-
-
- A tale is told of a captain bold
- Of E-boat Seventy-two;
- She steered to eastward--pitched and rolled, and Poulson swore at her,
- damp and cold,
- As E-boat captains do.
-
- And off the mouth of the German Bight,
- With Borkum on the bow,
- She saw the smoke of a German fleet--MIND YOUR FINGERS--SEVENTY FEET!
- WE'RE IN FOR BUSINESS NOW....
-
- (For enemy ships are hard to find--
- You have to take them quick;
- So copy the Eastern vulture's rule, that waits for days for an
- Army mule--
- Always ready to click.)
-
- Out to the west from Helgoland
- The big grey cruiser steered,
- And the glinting rays of a rising sun flashed on funnel and
- mast and gun,
- And--Admiral Schultz's beard.
-
- Down the wind the E-boat came
- And passed the searching screen;
- Nobody guessed the boat was there, till they heard the wallop and
- saw the flare--
- Where the pride of the fleet had been.
-
- 'Twixt white and green of dancing waves
- The racing tracks were seen,
- And Poulson watching them get there, cried--_Hold the crockery--
- Starboard side!_
- _For the kick of a magazine!_
-
- The escort ran and the cruisers ran
- At the thought of an English snare;
- Scattered and spread to left and right, to the friendly arms of
- the German Bight,
- And left the ocean bare.
-
- Then the coffee was spilt, the E-boat rolled
- To a deuce of a shaking bang;
- To the sound of the hammer of Aser-Thor, victory-song of Naval War,
- The hull of the E-boat rang.
-
- And Poulson swinging the eye-piece round,
- Lifted eyebrows high,
- For far aloft, when the smoke had cleared, he saw the flash of a
- golden beard
- Against the empty sky.
-
- "Admiral over! _Surface_, lads!
- He's flying a belted sword;
- Pipe the side or stern or bow, stand to attention smartly now--
- Wherever he comes aboard."
-
- The Admiral landed Cabré-wise
- And high the fountains burst--
- (What is the meaning of Cabré-wise? To men of the air it signifies--
- His after-end was first).
-
- They piped the side, and still they stood
- To watch him struggle and heave,
- As he fought the slope of the rounded deck (for none could pull at an
- Admiral's neck
- Without the Admiral's leave).
-
- They took him below, and sat him down
- On the edge of the Captain's bed,--
- Treatment vile for a foemen caught, they gave him a bottle of
- Navy Port--
- Fiery, dark, and red.
-
- They landed him at a Naval Base,
- With S. two-twenty D.
- _Supplied_--_a large and bearded Hun: Grosse Admirals, angry, One--
- For draft to Admiraltee._
-
- And Grosse-Admiral Schultz von Schmidt,
- Graf von Hansa-Zoom,
- Faded away to Donnington Hall, to an English park with a guarded wall
- --To an elegant private room.
-
- And there he paced the carpet up,
- And paced the carpet down,
- "Alte Himmel!"--the prisoners cried--"Some one's trod on the
- German pride,
- And dared the Hansa frown!"
-
- The Admiral called for a fountain pen
- And Reference Sheets[1] galore,
- And silence fell on the smoking-room--for Grosse-Admiral Hansa-Zoom
- Was throwing a Gage of War.
-
- "_Can I believe your Lordships mean
- To stand so idly by--
- When a young lieutenant of twenty-four, pleading the need of Naval War,
- Shall make an Admiral fly?_
-
- _Never shall I believe it true
- That I should have to fall
- On an icy sea with an awful spank, by the act of one of a junior rank,
- I--Schultz, of Donnington Hall._"
-
- Their Lordships read--and bells were heard
- That woke the echoing past;
- And Scouts and messengers jumped and fled--till all was still as a
- world of dead
- Beneath the wireless mast.
-
- My Lords in solemn conclave drew
- Behind a bolted door,
- Threshing it out in full debate--"Is it a case for an Acting Rate?
- Or use of Martial Law?"
-
- At four o'clock in the afternoon,
- With tea-cups clattering past,
- Along the echoing Portland floor the whisper passed from door to door--
- "_They've settled it all at last!_"
-
- And I have the word of a lady fair
- In Room Two Thousand B--
- (A perfect peach, I beg to state), who typed the letter in triplicate
- And passed it on to me.
-
- "_We find the Enemy Admiral's Note
- Is based on Service Law--
- That disrespect to a Flag afloat has sullied the fame of Poulson's boat
- Despite the Needs of War._
-
- _But he erred unknowing--so we shall mask
- His breach of Service pomp,--
- We'll make him an Admiral, D.S.B.[2]--Acting--payless--biscuit free,
- In lieu of lodging and Comp._
-
- _We'll rate him at once as an A.I.O.[3]
- With a K.R.A. and an I.,[4]
- We'll make him a deputy C.P.O.,[5] with Rank of Admiral, whether or no,
- And a beautiful Flag to fly._"
-
- And now when Poulson sails to war
- In E-boat Seventy-two,
- The boatswains pipe and the bugles blare, "_Stand to attention--
- forward there_!
- _The Admiral's passing you!_"
-
- That is the tale as told to me
- By a friend from Beatty's Fleet,
- When over a glass (or even two), he swore to me that the tale was true,
- In a Tavern in Regent Street.
-
- [1] A letter-form which enables the sender to address his
- Seniors more abruptly than he would dare to do without its
- assistance.
-
- [2] D.S.B. = Duty Steam Boat.
-
- [3] A.I.O. = Admiralty Interim Order.
-
- [4] K.R.A.I. = King's Regulations and Admiralty Instructions.
-
- [5] C.P.O. = Chief Petty Officer.
-
-
-
-
-A NIGHTMARE
-
-
-
-
-A NIGHTMARE.
-
-
- The Council of Democracy around the table drew
- (The table was a beauty--it was polished--it was new,
- Twenty feet from side to side and half a mile in length,
- Built of rosewood and mahogany of double extra strength.
- The C in C had gone to jail to answer to the charge
- Of saying what he thought about Democracy at large.
- So the Council of Democracy had taken on the job,
- After voting the removal of his Autocratic nob.
- And the table was erected in a calm secluded spot,
- Well away from any trenches, lest a voter should be shot).
- And the Chairman raised a hammer and he hit the board a whack,
- No one paid the least attention, so he put the hammer back.
- Then he read the lengthy minutes of the gathering before,
- To the ever-growing murmur of the Democratic snore.
- And he put before the meeting all the questions of the day,
- Such as "Shorter hours for Delegates, and seven times the pay."
- With a minor matter for the end--"What shall the Council do
- About this fellow Mackensen? they say he's coming through
- With a hundred thousand hirelings of the Hohenzollern Line,
- And breaking all the Union Rules by working after nine."
- At this a group of Delegates departed for the door,
- To consult with their constituents the conduct of the War.
- The remainder started voting on the Delegation Pay,
- And agreed with unanimity to seven quid a day.
- They decided that unless the Germans travelled very fast,
- There'd be time for all the speeches--so they took the matter last.
- But just as Mr Blithers to the Chairman had addressed
- His opinion--he departed for the Country of the Blest,
- (Both in body and in spirit to the heavens he departed,
- And the Council looked dispirited, though hardly broken-hearted).
- All the delegates were wondering from whence the shell had come;
- One arose to ask a question--Bang!!--he went to Kingdom Come.
- "Mr Chairman," cried a Delegate. "A point of order! I
- Don't believe the Huns are coming--it's an Autocratic lie.
- I shall move the Army question do be left upon the Table,
- And I'm going home to England just as fast as I am able."
- Then he gathered up his papers, and was pushing back his chair,
- When a heavy high explosive sent him sailing in the air.
- The Chairman beat his hammer on the table all the while,
- Yelling oaths and calling "Order" in a Democratic style.
- But the Delegates were started on the question of the War,
- (So as not to waste the speeches that they'd written out before).
- And the Council of Democracy--a thousand fluent tongues--
- Let the Germans have it hearty from its Democratic lungs.
- Through the bursting of the shrapnel they were constant to the end,--
- Kept referring to each other as "My honourable friend."
- And in groups of ten and twenty they were blasted into space
- By the disrespectful cannon of an Autocratic race,
- Till the gathering had dwindled to an incoherent few,
- Who were still explaining volubly what England ought to do,
- When the cannon ceased abruptly and they heard the Germans cheer,
- And a sergeant entered roaring, "Himmel, Ach! was Schmutz ist hier!
- Mask your faces, pig-dogs, quickly--all the room is full of gas.
- Vorwärts, Carl der Kindermörder--use your bayonet, Saxon ass!"
- Faithful to the last, the Chairman, spying strangers all around,
- Told them they were out of order; hardly seemed to touch the ground.
- Told them of his best intentions, how with love of them he burned,
- Shouted as the bayonet caught him, "Ow! the Council is adjourned!"
-
-
-
-
-RELEASED
-
-
-
-
-RELEASED.
-
-
- We are drifting back from the End of Hell to the home we long for so,--
- Back from the land of fear and hate that jeers at wounded men;
- Maimed and crippled are we to-day, but free from curse or blow--
- That we knew too well in the land of Cain, the guarded prisoners' den.
-
- We drift away to the homes we left a thousand years ago,
- And there we wait in the Truce of God for the hand of Death to fall,
- Waiting aside in hovel or hall--where only neighbours know--
- The broken men that the War has left to shun the gaze of all.
-
- Is it nothing to you that pass us by--hurrying on your way,
- Whispering low of peace and rest to the tune of a German song?
- Only but for the Grace of God you might be where we lay--
- With festering wounds in a truck for beasts, the butt
- of a laughing throng.
-
- Peace and Rest? The peace will come when God shall stay His hand,
- And change the heart of the German race that mocks at wounded men.
- The rest you seek? What need of that? you fight for a Christian land,
- And all Eternity waits for you--what need of rest till then?
-
- We are broken and down in the fight of the world for an end
- to heathen lust,
- But the sword we dropped when the darkness came is yours to handle yet.
- If you sheathe the sword for a greed of gold or suffer the steel
- to rust,
- The curse of the captive men be yours--the day when you forget--!
-
-
-
-
-REGULUS
-
-
-
-
-REGULUS.
-
- (Written after reading the story of that name in 'A Diversity
- of Creatures' by Kipling.)
-
-
- Out to the wharf where the long ship lay with her beak to the open sea,
- He went by the way of the merchantmen that trade to the ports of Spain;
- Clamouring folk beside him ran with sorrowing voice or wailing plea:
- "Hero--Pride of the Roman State! Turn again at the Harbour-Gate,
- Back and away from Tyrian hate with us to Rome again."
-
- Out on the wharf he walked from those--that wailed and wept
- to see him go;
- And hand in his she walked with him--her royal head on high.
- And the crowd was still as she turned and spoke--her hand in his and
- her eyes aglow:
- "Here where the tide and Tiber foam, I turn from you to an empty home.
- But alone of women of wailing Rome I have no tears to dry;
-
- "Pass to the sea and the Death beyond to the home of the Gods you left
- for Earth;
- Of all the women of Rome to-night, no pride shall equal mine.
- A God, the man that leaves me now--but ah! a lover that
- thought me worth--
- The whispered word of a husband true--I thank the Gods that
- I hold from you
- The right that fair Eurydice knew--the love of a man Divine."
-
-
-
-
-A NORTH SEA NOTE
-
-
-
-
-A NORTH SEA NOTE.
-
-
- The wind that whispered softly over Kiel across the Bay,
- Died away as the dark closed down,
- Till the Dockyard glare showed the ending of the day
- In the Fortress-Town.
-
- In the silence of the night as the big ships swung
- To the buoys as the flood-tide made,
- Came a clamour from the wind like a shield that is rung
- By a foemen's blade.
-
- Far above the masts where the wireless showed,
- Traced out against a star-lit sky,
- A voice called down from the Whist-hound's road
- Where the clouds went by--
-
- Listen down below--In the High Sea Fleet,
- For a signal that was shouted up to me
- By the sailors that I left on the old, old beat,
- Far out in the cold North Sea.
-
- They shouted up to me as the glass went down,
- And they ducked to the North-West spray,
- "Will you take a message to the Fortress-Town,
- And the Fleet that is lying in the Bay?
-
- "Say that we are waiting in the waters of the North,
- And we'll wait till the seas run dry--
- Or the High Sea Fleet from the Bight comes forth,
- And the twelve-inch shells go by.
-
- "We have waited very long, but we haven't any doubt
- They are longing for the day we'll meet.
- But tell 'em as you pass that the sooner they are out,
- All the better for the English Fleet.
-
- "For when we see 'em sinking--(they'll be fighting to the last,
- And for those that are lost we'll grieve,)
- We will cheer for a signal at the Flagship's mast--
- On arrival at the Base--Long Leave!"
-
-
-
-
-SOMETHING WRONG
-
-
-
-
-SOMETHING WRONG.
-
-
- "The German Fleet is coming,"
- The Sunday papers say,
- "And the shell will soon be humming
- When they fix upon the Day."
- All the Sunday experts write,
- Working very late at night--
- "They are coming--they'll be on you any day."
-
- Though it's very cheery reading,
- And we hear it ev'ry week;
- Yet the Hun is still unheeding,
- And is just as far to seek.
- And it seems so unavailing
- They should write and tell us so--
- If the Hun is shortly sailing,
- Couldn't _some one_ let him know?
-
- We are ready, and we're waiting,
- And we know they're going to fight;
- And we're just as good at hating
- As the Brainy Ones that write.
- But they talk of Information
- They have gathered unbeknown--
- That "the mighty German Nation
- Is a mass of skin and bone."
- And they take their affidavy
- That a fight is due at sea:
- _Dammit--tell the German Navy_,
- What's the use of telling me?
-
-
-
-
-WE
-
-
-
-
-WE.
-
-
- All our fighting brothers are away across the foam,
- Hats off to the Englishman!
- Here's a chance for Englishmen living safe at home,
- Make a lot of money while you can!
-
- We are fighting for the Right and the Honour of the Race
- With the Bulldog Grip they know;
- Who's the silly novice there putting on the pace?
- You'll be taken for a Yank--Go slow!
-
- All the Nations know us as the finest of the Earth;
- Three cheers for the lads in blue!
- An' we're drawing extra wages that are more than we are worth--
- But a half-day's work will do.
-
- The shades of England's fighting men are watching us with pride
- As we live for England's fame;
- To save us for posterity was why they went and died--
- Oh! The War is a real fine game!
-
- Let the War go rolling on alone for awhile,
- Let the line stand fast in the West;
- Let 'em learn to use the bayonet in the grand old style,
- While the Bulldog Boys have a rest.
-
- What's the good of hurrying? British pluck'll win;
- We can stand to the strain all right.
- What about another rise? Send the notice in--
- Just to show how the Bulldogs fight.
-
- Chorus! all together--We're the finest race of all,
- So beware of the English Blade;
- Now the fighting men are gone--why, however many fall,
- All the more for the lads that stayed.
-
-
-
-
-THE SAILOR'S VIEW
-
-
-
-
-THE SAILOR'S VIEW.
-
-(1916).
-
-
- Too proud to fight? I'm not so sure--our skipper now and then
- Has lectured to us on patrol on foreign ships and men,
- And other nation's submarines, when cruising round the Bight;
- And 'seems to me--when they begin--the Yankee chaps can fight.
- Why, if I was in the army (which I ain't--and no regrets)
- And had my pick of Generals--from London's latest pets,
- To Hannibal and Wellington--to follow whom I chose,
- I wouldn't think about it long--I'd give the job to those
- Who fought across a continent for three long years and more
- (I bet the neutral papers didn't say in 'sixty-four
- Of Jackson, Sherman, Lee and Grant--"The Yanks can only shout"--
- That lot was somewhere near the front when pluck was handed out);
- But what the Skipper said was this; "There's only been but one
- Successful submarine attack before this war begun,
- And it wasn't on a liner on the easy German plan,
- But on a well-found man-of-war, and Dixon was the man
- Who showed us how to do the trick, a tip for me and you,
- And I'd like to keep the standard up of Dixon and his crew,
- For they hadn't got a submarine that cost a hundred thou',
- But a leaky little biscuit-box, and stuck upon her bow
- A spar torpedo like a mine, and they and Dixon knew
- That if they sank the enemy they'd sink the _David_ too.
- She'd drowned a crew or two before--they dredged her up again,
- And manned and pushed her off to sea.--My oath, it's pretty plain
- They had some guts to give away, that tried another trip
- In a craft they knew was rather more a coffin than a ship;
- And they carried out a good attack, and did it very well.
- As a model for the future, why, it beats the books to Hell,
- A tradition for the U.S.A., and, yes--for England too;
- For they were men with English names, and kin to me and you,
- And I'd like to claim an ancestor with Dixon when he died
- At the bottom of the river at the _Housatonic's_ side."
-
-
-
-
-STONEWALL JACKSON
-
-
-
-
-STONEWALL JACKSON.
-
-
- Over the low Virginian farms the smoke of the ev'ning rose and flowed,
- The scent of cedar hung in the air--the scent of burning sap,
- And up the valley the murmur died, the sound of feet on a dusty road--
- A clatter and ring of horse and guns that led to Ashby's Gap.
-
- And the Blue Ridge called to the Shenandoah stream,
- As the Massanutton hills grew black--
- "Look your last, Shenandoah--where the bayonets gleam,
- On your man who is never coming back.
-
- "Ah! Manassas, look again on the glimmer of the steel
- That you lit with the red fires' glow,
- When the Grey men roared at an all-night meal,
- Look again as the Grey men go.
-
- "He is looking back at us with a hand across his eyes,
- Look your last, Shenandoah, as he rides
- To a death beyond the Gap where the dust-clouds rise,
- O'er the road that the greenwood hides.
-
- "He will send a message back as the dark clouds lower,
- And you'll hear it in the sighing of the breeze,
- _Let us pass across the river (can you hear me, Shenandoah?)
- To a rest in the shadow of the trees_."
-
-
-
-
-WET SHIPS
-
-
-
-
-WET SHIPS.
-
- "... And will remain on your Patrol till the 8th
- December...."--(_Extract from Orders._)
-
-
- The North-East Wind came armed and shod from the ice-locked
- Baltic shore,
- The seas rose up in the track he made, and the rollers raced before;
- He sprang on the Wilhelmshaven ships that reeled across the tide.
- "Do you cross the sea to-night with me?" the cold North-Easter cried--
- Along the lines of anchored craft the Admiral's answer flashed,
- And loud the proud North-Easter laughed as the second anchors splashed.
- "By God! you're right--you German men, with a three-day gale to blow,
- It is better to wait by your harbour gate than follow where I go!"
-
- Over the Bight to the open sea the great wind sang as he sheered:
- "I rule--I rule the Northern waste--I speak, and the seas are cleared;
- You nations all whose harbours ring the edge of my Northern sea,
- At peace or war, when you hear my voice you shall know no Lord but me."
- Then into the wind in a cloud of foam and sheets of rattling spray,
- Head to the bleak and breaking seas in dingy black and grey,
- Taking it every lurch and roll in tons of icy green
- Came out to her two-year-old patrol--an English submarine.
- The voice of the wind rose up and howled through squalls of
- driving white:
- "You'll know my power, you English craft, before you make the Bight;
- I rule--I rule this Northern Sea, that I raise and break to foam.
- Whom do you call your Overlord that dares me in my home?"
- Over the crest of a lifting sea in bursting shells of spray,
- She showed the flash of her rounded side as over to port she lay,
- Clanging her answer up the blast that made her wireless sing:
- "_I serve the Lord of the Seven Seas. Ha! Splendour of God--
- the King!!_"
-
- Twenty feet of her bow came out, dripping and smooth it sprang,
- Over the valley of green below as her stamping engines rang;
- Then down she fell till the waters rose to meet her straining rails--
- "I serve my King, who sends me here to meet your winter gales."
- (Rank upon rank the seas swept on and broke to let her through,
- While high above her reeling bridge their shattered remnants flew);
- "_If you blow the stars from the sky to-night, your boast in
- your teeth I'll fling,
- I am your master--Overlord, and--Dog of the English King!_"
-
-
-
-
-THAT BLINKIN' CAT
-
-
-
-
-THAT BLINKIN' CAT.
-
- (Late of H.M.S. _Maidstone_.)
-
-
- In the Diving-room, where the O.O.D.[6] his weary vigil keeps,
- Battered and scarred with years of strife behind the door she sleeps,
- Fighting her battles o'er again as ancient warriors may,
- With bristling fur as she dreams anew of many a noble fray.
- Savage and Silent,
- Swift in the onslaught
- As the great eagle
- Stoops to the victim;
- Guard of the Gangway,
- Dreadful--prolific,
- Mother of hundreds,
- Terrier-Strafer,
- Messenger-biter.
- Hail to the guard of the _Maidstone's_ Gangway--Skoal!
-
- Sing of the day the air was full of words like "Alabaster,"
- When she ate a piece of the Corporal's hand and bit the Quartermaster;
- The day she fought with an Airedale dog and drove him back to shore--
- For the sake of her sixty little ones, she fought--and had some more.
- Faithful and loyal,
- Guard of the Gangway,
- Turning the dogs back--
- Yelping and howling.
- Biting her masters--
- Corporals--any one
- Fiercely domestic,
- Easily queen of--
- Pugnacious obstetrics--
- Motherly War.
- Hail to the terror and pride of the _Maidstone_--Skoal!!
-
- Sing of the day she won the fray with a new "Pandora" dog,
- And the Quartermaster shone with pride as he entered in the log:
- "At 10 P.M. we dowsed our pipes and drew the _Nettle's_ fires,
- At 10.15 six births aboard--_that blinkin' cat of ours_!"
-
- [6] O.O.D.--Officer of the day.
-
-
-
-
-1797.
-
-
-
-
-1797.
-
-
- Our brothers of the landward side
- Are bound by Church and stall,
- By Councils OEcumenical,
- By Gothic arches tall;
- But we who know the cold grey sea,
- The salt and flying spray,
- We praise the Lord in our fathers' way,
- In the simple faith of the sea we pray,
- To the God that the winds and waves obey
- Who sailed on Galilee.
- We pray as the Flag-Lieutenant prayed,
- At St Vincent's cabin door
- (Twenty sail of the line in view--
- South-West by South they bore):
- "O Lord of Hosts, I praise Thee now,
- And bow before Thy might,
- Who has given us fingers and hands to fight,
- And twenty ships of the line in sight;
- Thou knewest, O Lord, and placed them right--
- To leeward, on the bow."
-
-
-
-
-AFTER THE WAR
-
-
-
-
-AFTER THE WAR.
-
-
- That far-off day when Peace is signed (and all the papers say--
- "A most important by-election starts at Kew to-day;
- We urge our readers one and all to loyally support
- The Independent Candidate--Count Katzenjammerdordt")
- Will change a lot of little things--perhaps we'll get some leave,
- And hear a yarn of extra pay, which no one will believe;
- The salvage ships will hurry out, two thousand wrecks to find,
- The monuments to Kultur that the Huns have left behind.
- We'll watch the sweepers put to sea ten million mines to seek,
- And--Patrol Flotilla Exercise will start within a week;
- Someone Big will say to Someone: "Time for work and time for play,
- (Rub his hands together briskly) We'll commence the work to-day;
- They have had their fun and fighting, and they must be getting slack,
- Stop all leave and start manoeuvres--for the good old times are back."
- Then destroyers and torpedo-boats and submarines and oilers
- Will receive a little notice headed "Maintenance of Boilers,"
- "To economise in fuel while the ships are out at sea
- Each pound of steam will count as two, and every knot as three."
- We'll have the old manoeuvre Rules to show us what to do.
- "I rose within two thousand yards and have torpedoed you,"
- "My counter-claim is obvious--to port you must retire,"
- "I sank you with a Maxim gun just as you rose to fire."
- Ships will carry navigation lights--"Precautionary Measure,"
- "An infringement of this solemn rule incurs My Lords' Displeasure."
- Yes, the after-war manoeuvres will be fearful to behold,
- Not been held since nineteen--("half a minute, surely you've
- been told"),
- Hush, you'll get me into trouble ("it was eighteen months ago--
- And the whole Grand Fleet was in it--I was there, I ought to know:
- _Red Fleet to start from Helgoland and Blue from Udsire Light,
- To meet in sixty-twenty North and have a morning fight.
- No ship should cross a line between the Jahde and Amrum Bank,
- But should a German flag be seen (unless of junior rank),_
- _No captain can do very wrong who indicates by guns--
- We won't have our manoeuvres spoilt by interfering Huns._
- Perhaps the wording isn't right, perhaps it isn't true,
- But we've got to have manoeuvres when there's nothing else to do.")
- And when the Censor fades away and leaves the presses clear
- For all the "Truths about the War," by "One who has no fear,"
- And all the "Contract Scandals," by "A Clerk behind the Door,"
- The book I want to see in print is "Humours of the War,"
- Though I fear the other Censor (Morals, Cinemas, and Vice)
- Would expurgate the best of them as being hardly nice;
- Still, even with the cream suppressed a volume could be filled
- With the epigrams of killing and the jokes of being killed,
- With a preface by the officer we rescued from the wave,
- When a cloud of steam and lyddite smoke lay o'er the
- "Bluecher's" grave,
- Who, as the bowmen fished him out and passed him aft to dry,
- Read the name upon their ribbons with a twinkle in his eye,
- And said: "A Westo ship, I think--I guess my luck is in,
- I'm sick of German substitutes--now for some Plymouth gin."
- And a picture of the sailor in a certain submarine,
- Which was diving through the waters where the sweepers hadn't been,
- And who heard a muffled bumping noise that passed along the side--
- A noise that many men have heard an instant ere they died;
- And broke the silence following the last appalling thud
- With "Good old ruddy Kaiser! there's another bloomin' dud!"
- There's a story too of Jutland, or perhaps another show,
- When the cruisers and destroyers had a meeting with the foe;
- And as the range was closing, and they waited for the word,
- From a sailor at an after-gun the following was heard:
- "It isn't _that_ that turns me up--'e's not the only one"--
- But then the roar of ranging guns--the action had begun--
- And for twenty awful minutes there was undiluted hell,
- With flame and steam and cordite smoke and high-explosive shell.
- Then as the bugle-call rang out, the savage fire to check,
- The loading numbers wiped their brows and looked around the deck:
- "As I was saying," came the voice, "before this row began,
- I think 'e should 've married 'er--if 'e'd bin 'alf a man."
-
-
-
-
-LOW VISIBILITY
-
-
-
-
-LOW VISIBILITY.
-
- _We sailed from the sand-isles,
- In Sea Hawk and Dragon,
- Over the White Water,
- War-ready all of us.
- Soon came the sea-mist,
- Soft was the wind then,
- Lay there the long-ships,
- Lifting and falling.
- Then cried the Captain:
- "Cold is the sea-fog,
- Weary is waiting-time,
- Wet are the byrnies;
- Burnish the breastplates,
- Broadswords and axes!
- Hand we the horns round,
- Hail to the Dragon!"_
-
-
- Our gentle pirate ancestors from off the Frisian Isles
- Kept station where we now patrol so many weary miles:
- There were no International Laws of Hall or Halleck then,
- They only knew the simple rule of "Death to beaten men."
- And what they judged a lawful prize was any sail they saw
- From Scarboro' to the sandy isles along the Saxon shore.
- We differ from our ancestors' conception of a prize,
- And we cruise about like Agag 'neath Sir Samuel Evans' eyes;
- But on one eternal subject we would certainly agree:
- It's seldom you can see a mile across the Northern sea,
- For as the misty clouds came down and settled wet and cold,
- The sodden halliards creaked and strained as to the swell they rolled.
- Each yellow-bearded pirate knew beyond the veil of white
- The prize of all the prizes must be passing out of sight;
- And drearily they waited while metheglin in a skin
- Was passed along the benches, and the oars came sliding in;
- Then scramasax and battleaxe were polished up anew,
- And they waited for the fog to lift, the same as me and you;
- Though we're waiting on the bottom at the twenty fathom line,
- We are burnishing torpedoes to a Sunday morning shine.
- The sailor pauses as he quaffs his tot of Navy rum,
- And listens to a noise that drowns the circulator's hum:
- "D'y 'ear those blank propellers, Bill--_the blinking female dog_--
- That's Tirpitz in the 'Indenburg gone past us in the fog!"
-
-
-
-
-HANG ON
-
-
-
-
-HANG ON.
-
-
- Two o' the morn, and a rising sea, I'd like to ease to slow,
- But we're off on a stunt and pressed for time, so I reckon it's
- Eastward Ho!
- So pick up your skirts and hustle along, old woman, you've got to go--
- Look-out, you fool. Hang on!
-
- Up she comes on a big grey sea and winks at the misty moon,
- Then down the hill like a falling lift, we're due for a beauty soon;
- And here it comes--she'll be much too late--yes, damn it, she's
- out of tune--
- Look-out, you fool. Hang on!
-
- You can feel her shake from stem to stern with the crash of her
- plunging bow,
- And quiver anew to the thrusting screw, and the booming engines' row;
- Then _rah-rah-rah_ on a rising note--my oath, they're racing now--
- Look-out, you fool. Hang on!
-
- The streaky water rushes by as the crest of the sea goes past,
- And you see her hull from the hydroplanes to the heel of her
- wireless mast
- Stand out and hang as she leaps the trough to dive at the next
- one--Blast--!
- Look-out, you fool. Hang on!
-
- In the hollow between she stops for breath, then starts her
- climb anew--
- "I can see your guns and wireless mast, old girl, but I can't see you,
- And you'd better be quick and lift again--she won't, she's
- diving through"--
- Look-out, you fool. Hang on!
-
- The Lord be thanked, it's my relief--Cheer up, old sport, it's clean;
- No, just enough to wash your face--you could hardly call it green;
- A jolly good sea-boat this one is, at least, for a submarine--
- Look-out, you fool. Hang on!
-
-
-
-
-TO FRITZ
-
-
-
-
-TO FRITZ.
-
-
- I wish that I could be a Hun, to dive about the sea--
- I wouldn't go for merchantmen, a man-of-war for me;
- There are lots of proper targets for attacking, little Fritz,
- But you seem to like the merchantmen, and blowing them to bits.
- I suppose it must be easy fruit to get an Iron Cross
- By strafing sail and cargo ships--but don't you feel the loss
- Of the wonderful excitement when you face a man-of-war,
- And tearing past you overhead the big propellers roar?
- When you know that it's a case of "May the fish run good and true,"
- For if they don't it's ten to one it's R.I.P. for you?
- Although perhaps you can't be blamed--your motives may be pure--
- You're rather new to submarines--in fact, an amateur;
- But we'd like to take your job awhile and show you how it's done,
- And leave you on the long patrol to wait your brother Hun.
- You wouldn't like the job, my lad--the motors turning slow,
- You wouldn't like the winter-time--storm and wind and snow;
- You'd find it weary waiting, Fritz--unless your faith is strong--
- Up and down on the long patrol--How long, O Lord, how long?
- We don't patrol for merchant ships, there's none but neutrals there,
- Up and down on the old patrol, you can hear the E-boat's prayer:
- "Give us a ten-knot breeze, O Lord, with a clear and blazing sky,
- And help our eyes at the periscope as the High Sea Fleet goes by."
-
-
-
-
-TO THE SCOTTISH REGIMENTS
-
-
-
-
-TO THE SCOTTISH REGIMENTS.
-
-
- _Land of sorrow--war and weeping,
- Granite rock and falling snow,
- Where Romance is never sleeping,
- Where the fires of freedom glow._
-
- Where the spark has never died, be the cause however lost,
- Be the breath however humble that would fan it to a flame;
- From the shieling, from the castle, did they ever count the cost
- Ere they went to meet a rebel's death and perished for a name?
-
- While England learnt the Roman tongue and paid her tax to Gaul,
- The Caledonian tribute clashed along the Roman wall--
- From East to West the sentinels looked out towards the North--
- "_Amboglanna has sent for aid,
- For the heather is bright with targe and blade
- Away to the silvery Forth._"
-
- When the Scottish host looked down and scorned to charge the foe
- That filed around the fatal hill and crossed the stream below,
- When the flowers of the forest fell and withered in the fight--
- "_Shoulder to shoulder around the King,
- Hear the Claymore whistle and sing
- Our funeral song to-night._"
-
- The English knew it at Prestonpans--the wall against their backs,
- When down the slope the clansmen came with the long Lochaber axe,
- The dew on the grass and the morning mist and a roar of charging men,--
- _Pipers playing on either flank--
- "Steady the volleys, the leading rank!"
- The fires were blazing then._
-
- And the spark has gone to Flanders, as the Prussian butchers know,
- For they learnt at Loos and Hulluch from the Caledonian sword
- The prayer of Anglo-Saxon priests a thousand years ago--
- "From the fury of the Northern men, deliver us, O Lord."
-
-
-
-
-PRIVILEGED
-
-
-
-
-PRIVILEGED.
-
-
- They called across to Peter at the changing of the Guard,
- At the red-gold Doors that the Angels keep,--
- "Send us help to the Portal, for they press upon us hard,
- They are straining at the Gate, many deep."
-
- Then Peter rose and went to the wicket by the Wall,
- Where the Starlight flashed upon the crowd;
- And he saw a mighty wave from the Greatest Gale of all
- Break beneath him with a roar, swelling loud--
-
- "_Let us in! Let us in! We have left a load of sin
- On the battlefield that flashes far below.
- From the trenches or the sea there's a pass for such as we,
- For we died with our faces to the foe.
-
- "We haven't any creed, for we never felt the need,
- And our morals are as ragged as can be;
- But we finished in a way that has cleared us of the clay,
- And we're coming to you clean, as you can see."_
-
- Then Peter looked below him with a smile upon his lips,
- And he answered, "Ye are fighters, as I know
- By your badges of the air, of the trenches, and the ships,
- And the wounds that on your bodies glisten so."
-
- And he looked upon the wounds, that were many and were grim,
- And his glance was all-embracing--unafraid;
- And he looked to meet the eyes that were smiling up to him,
- All a-level as a new-forged blade.
-
- "Ye are savage men and rough--from the fo'c'sle and the tent;
- Ye have put High Heaven to alarm;
- But I see it written clear by the road ye went,
- That ye held by the Fifteenth Psalm."
-
- And they shouted in return, "_'Tis a thing we've never read,
- But you passed our friends inside
- That won to the end of the road we tread
- Long ago when the Mons Men died._"
-
- "_Let us in! Let us in! We have fallen for the Right,
- And the Crown that we listed to win,
- That we earned by the Somme or the waters of the Bight;
- You're a fighting man yourself--Let us in!_"
-
- Then Peter gave a sign and the Gates flung wide
- To the sound of a bugle-call:
- "Pass the fighting men to the ranks inside,
- Who came from the earth or the cold grey tide,
- With their heads held high and a soldiers stride,
- To a Friend in the Judgment Hall."
-
-
-
-
-"OUR ANNUAL"
-
-
-
-
-"OUR ANNUAL."
-
-
- Up the well-remembered fairway, past the buoys and forts we drifted--
- Saw the houses, roads, and churches as they were a year ago.
- Far astern were wars and battles, all the dreary clouds were lifted,
- As we turned the Elbow Ledges--felt the engines ease to "Slow."
-
- Rusty side and dingy paintwork, stripped for war and cleared
- for battle--
- Saw the harbour-tugs around us--smelt the English fields again,--
- English fields and English hedges--sheep and horses, English cattle,
- Like a screen unrolled before us, through the mist of English rain.
-
- Slowly through the basin entrance--twenty thousand tons a-crawling
- With a thousand men aboard her, all a-weary of the War--
- Warped her round and laid alongside with the cobble-stones a-calling--
- "There's a special train awaiting, just for you to come ashore."
-
- Out again as fell the evening, down the harbour in the gloaming
- With the sailors on the fo'c'sle looking wistfully a-lee--
- Just another year of waiting--just another year of roaming
- For the Majesty of England--for the Freedom of the Sea.
-
-
-
-
-MASCOTS
-
-
-
-
-MASCOTS.
-
-
- When the galleys of Phoenicia, through the gates of Hercules,
- Steered South and West along the coast to seek the Tropic Seas,
- When they rounded Cape Agulhas, putting out from Table Bay,
- They started trading North again, as steamers do to-day.
- They dealt in gold and ivory and ostrich feathers too,
- With a little private trading by the officers and crew,
- Till rounding Guardafui, steering up for Aden town,
- The tall Phoenician Captain called the First Lieutenant down.
- "By all the Tyrian purple robes that you will never wear,
- By the Temples of Zimbabwe, by King Solomon I swear,
- The ship is like a stable, like a Carthaginian sty.
- I am Captain here--confound you!--or I'll know the reason why.
- Every sailor in the galley has a monkey or a goat;
- There are parrots in the eyes of her and serpents in the boat.
- By the roaring fire of Baal, I'll not have it any more:
- Heave them over by the sunset, or I'll hang you at the fore!"
- "What is that, sir? _Not_ as cargo? _Not_ a bit of private trade?
- Well, of all the dumbest idiots you're the dumbest ever made,
- Standing there and looking silly: _leave the animals alone_."
- (Sailors with a tropic liver always have a brutal tone.)
- "By the crescent of Astarte, I am not religious--yet--
- I would sooner spill the table salt than kill a sailor's pet."
-
-
-
-
-A HYMN OF DISGUST
-
-
-
-
-A HYMN OF DISGUST.
-
-
- You wrote a pretty hymn of Hate,
- That won the Kaiser's praise,
- Which showed your nasty mental state,
- And made us laugh for days.
- I can't compete with such as you
- In doggerel of mine,
- But this is certain--_and_ it's true,
- You bloody-handed swine--
-
- We do not mouth a song of hate, or talk about you--much,
- We do not mention things like you--it wouldn't be polite;
- One doesn't talk in drawing-rooms of Prussian dirt and such,
- We only want to kill you off--so roll along and fight.
-
- For men like you with filthy minds, you leave a nasty taste,
- We can't forget your triumphs with the girls you met in France.
- By your standards of morality, gorillas would be chaste,
- And you consummate your triumphs with the bayonet and the lance.
-
- You give us mental pictures of your officers at play,
- With naked girls a-dancing on the table as you dine,
- With their mothers cut to pieces, in the knightly German way,
- In the corners of the guard-room in a pool of blood and wine.
-
- You had better stay in Germany, and never go abroad,
- For wherever you may wander you will find your fame has gone,
- For you are outcasts from the lists, with rust upon your sword--
- The blood of many innocents--of children newly born.
-
- You are bestial men and beastly, and we would not ask you home
- To meet our wives and daughters, for we doubt that you are clean;
- You will find your fame in front of you wherever you may roam,
- You--who came through burning Belgium with the ladies for a screen.
-
- You--who love to hear the screaming of a girl beneath the knife,
- In the midst of your companions, with their craning, eager necks;
- When you crown your German mercy, and you take a sobbing life--
- You are not exactly gentlemen towards the gentle sex.
-
- With your rapings in the market-place and slaughter of the weak,
- With your gross and leering conduct, and your utter lack of shame,--
- When we note in all your doings such a nasty yellow streak,
- You show surprise at our disgust, and say you're not to blame.
-
- We don't want any whinings, and we'd sooner wait for peace
- Till you realise your position, and you know you whine in vain;
- And you stand within a circle of the Cleaner World's Police,
- And we goad you into charging--and we clean the world again.
-
- For you should know that never shall you meet us as before,
- That none will take you by the hand or greet you as a friend;
- So stay with it, and finish it--who brought about the War--
- And when you've paid for all you've done--well, that will be the End.
-
-
-
-
-A TRINITY
-
-
-
-
-A TRINITY.
-
-
- The way of a ship at racing speed
- In a bit of a rising gale,
- The way of a horse of the only breed
- At a Droxford post-and-rail,
- The way of a brand-new aeroplane
- On a frosty winter dawn.
- You'll come back to those again;
- Wheel or cloche or slender rein
- Will keep you young and clean and sane,
- And glad that you were born.
-
- The power and drive beneath me now are above the power of kings,
- It's mine the word that lets her loose and in my ear she sings--
- "Mark now the way I sport and play with the rising hunted sea,
- Across my grain in cold disdain their ranks are hurled at me;
- But down my wake is a foam-white lake, the remnant of their line,
- That broke and died beneath my pride--your foemen, man, and mine."
- The perfect tapered hull below is a dream of line and curve,
- An artist's vision in steel and bronze for gods and men to serve.
- If ever a statue came to life, you quivering slender thing,
- It ought to be you--my racing girl--as the Amazon song you sing.
-
- * * * * *
-
- Down the valley and up the slope we run from scent to view.
- "Steady, you villain--you know too much--I'm not so wild as you;
- You'll get me cursed if you catch him first--there's at least
- a mile to go,
- So swallow your pride and ease your stride, and take your fences slow.
- Your high-pricked ears as the jump appears are comforting
- things to see;
- Your easy gallop and bending neck are signals flying to me.
- You wouldn't refuse if it was wire with calthrops down in front,
- And there we are with a foot to spare--you best of all the Hunt!"
- Great sloping shoulders galloping strong, and a yard
- of floating tail,
- A fine old Irish gentleman, and a Hampshire post-and-rail.
-
- * * * * *
-
- The sun on the fields a mile below is glinting off the grass
- That slides along like a rolling map as under the clouds I pass.
- The early shadows of byre and hedge are dwindling dark below
- As up the stair of the morning air on my idle wheels I go,--
- Nothing to do but let her alone--she's flying herself to-day;
- Unless I chuck her about a bit--there isn't a bump or sway.
- So _there's_ a bank at ninety-five--and here's a spin and
- a spiral dive,
- And here we are again.
- And _that's_ a roll and twist around, and that's the sky and there's
- the ground,
- And I and the aeroplane
- Are doing a glide, but upside down, and that's a village and that's
- a town--
- And now we're rolling back.
- And _this_ is the way we climb and stall and sit up and beg on
- nothing at all,
- The wires and strainers slack.
- And now we'll try and be good some more, and open the throttle
- and hear her roar
- And steer for London Town.
- For there never a pilot yet was born who flew a machine on a
- frosty morn
- But started stunting soon,
- To feel if his wires were really there, or whether he flew
- on ice or air,
- Or whether his hands were gloved or bare,
- Or he sat in a free balloon.
-
-
-
-
-IN THE MORNING
-
-
-
-
-IN THE MORNING.
-
-
- Back from battle, torn and rent,
- Listing bridge and stanchions bent
- By the angry sea.
- By Thy guiding mercy sent,
- Fruitful was the road we went--
- Back from battle we.
-
- If Thou hadst not been, O Lord, behind our feeble arm,
- If Thy hand had not been there to slam the lyddite home,
- When against us men arose and sought to work us harm,
- We had gone to death, O Lord, in spouting rings of foam.
-
- Heaving sea and cloudy sky
- Saw the battle flashing by
- As Thy foemen ran.
- By Thy grace, that made them fly,
- We have seen two hundred die
- Since the fight began.
-
- If our cause had not been Thine, for Thy eternal Right,
- If the foe in place of us had fought for Thee, O Lord!
- If Thou hadst not guided us and drawn us there to fight,
- We never should have closed with them--Thy seas are dark and broad.
-
- Through the iron rain they fled,
- Bearing home the tale of dead,
- Flying from Thy sword.
- After-hatch to fo'c'sle head,
- We have turned their decks to red,
- By Thy help, O Lord!
-
- It was not by our feeble sword that they were overthrown,
- But Thy right hand that dashed them down, the servants of the proud;
- It was not arm of ours that saved, but Thine, O Lord, alone,
- When down the line the guns began, and sang Thy praise aloud.
-
- Sixty miles of running fight,
- Finished at the dawning light,
- Off the Zuider Zee.
- Thou that helped throughout the night
- Weary hand and aching sight,
- Praise, O Lord, to Thee.
-
-
-
-
-IN FORTY WEST
-
-
-
-
-IN FORTY WEST.
-
-
- We are coming from the ranch, from the city and the mine,
- And the word has gone before us to the towns upon the Rhine;
- As the rising of the tide
- On the Old-World side,
- We are coming to the battle, to the Line.
-
- From the valleys of Virginia, from the Rockies in the North,
- We are coming by battalions, for the word was carried forth:
- "We have put the pen away,
- And the sword is out to-day,
- For the Lord has loosed the Vintages of Wrath."
-
- We are singing in the ships as they carry us to fight,
- As our fathers sang before us by the camp-fires' light;
- In the wharf-light glare
- They can hear us Over There,
- When the ships come steaming through the night.
-
- Right across the deep Atlantic where the _Lusitania_ passed,
- With the battle-flag of Yankeeland a-floating at the mast,
- We are coming all the while,
- Over twenty hundred mile,
- And were staying to the finish, to the last.
-
- We are many--we are one--and we're in it overhead,
- We are coming as an Army that has seen its women dead,
- And the old Rebel Yell
- Will be loud above the shell
- When we cross the top together, seeing red.
-
-
-
-
-A RING AXIOM
-
-
-
-
-A RING AXIOM.
-
-
- When the pitiless gong rings out again, and they whip your chair away,
- When you feel you'd like to take the floor, whatever the crowd
- should say,
- When the hammering gloves come back again, and the world goes round
- your head,
- When you know your arms are only wax, your hands of useless lead,
- When you feel you'd give your heart and soul for a chance to clinch
- and rest,
- And through your brain the whisper comes,
- "Give in, you've done your best,"--
- Why, stiffen your knees and brace your back, and take my
- word as true--
- _If the man in front has got you weak, he's just as
- tired as you_.
- He can't attack through a gruelling fight and finish
- as he began;
- He's done more work than you to-day--you're just as fine a man.
- So call your last reserve of pluck--he's careless
- with his chin--
- You'll put it across him every time--Go in--Go in--_Go in_!
-
-
-
-
-THE QUARTERMASTER
-
-
-
-
-THE QUARTERMASTER.
-
-
- I mustn't look up from the compass-card, nor look at the seas at all,
- I must watch the helm and compass-card,--If I heard the trumpet-call
- Of Gabriel sounding Judgment Day to dry the Seas again,
- I must hold her bow to windward now till I'm relieved again--
- To the pipe and wail of a tearing gale,
- Carrying Starboard Ten.
-
- I must stare and frown at the compass-card, that chases round the bowl,
- North and South and back again with every lurching roll.
- By the feel of the ship beneath I know the way she's going to swing,
- But I mustn't look up to the booming wind however the halliards sing--
- In a breaking sea with the land a-lee,
- Carrying Starboard Ten.
-
- And I stoop to look at the compass-card as closes in the night,
- For it's hard to see by the shaded glow of half a candle-light;
- But the spokes are bright, and I note beside in the corner of my eye
- A shimmer of light on oilskin wet that shows the Owner nigh--
- Foggy and thick and a windy trick,
- Carrying Starboard Ten.
-
- Heave and sway or dive and roll can never disturb me now;
- Though seas may sweep in rivers of foam across the straining bow,
- I've got my eyes on the compass-card, and though she broke her keel
- And hit the bottom beneath us now, you'd find me at the wheel--
- In Davy's realm, still at the helm,
- Carrying Starboard Ten.
-
-
-
-
-IN THE BARRED ZONE
-
-
-
-
-IN THE BARRED ZONE.
-
-
- They called us up from England at the breaking of the day,
- And the wireless whisper caught us from a hundred leagues away--
- "Sentries at the Outer Line,
- All that hold the countersign,
- Listen in the North Sea--news for you to-day."
-
- All across the waters, at the paling of the morn,
- The wireless whispered softly ere the summer day was born--
- "Be you near or ranging far,
- By the Varne or Weser bar,
- The Fleet is out and steaming to the Eastward and the dawn."
-
- Far and away to the North and West, in the dancing glare of the
- sunlit ocean,
- Just a haze, a shimmer of smoke-cloud, grew and broadened many a mile;
- Low and long and faint and spreading, banner and van of a
- world in motion,
- Creeping out to the North and West, it hung in the skies alone awhile.
-
- Then from over the brooding haze the roar of murmuring engines swelled,
- And the men of the air looked down to us, a mile below their feet;
- Down the wind they passed above, their course to the silver
- sun-track held,
- And we looked back to the West again, and saw the English Fleet.
-
- Over the curve of the rounded sea, in ordered lines as the
- ranks of Rome,
- Over the far horizon steamed a power that held us dumb,--
- Miles of racing lines of steel that flattened the sea to a
- field of foam,
- Rolling deep to the wash they made,
- We saw, to the threat of a German blade,
- The Shield of England come.
-
-
-
-
-WHO CARES?
-
-
-
-
-WHO CARES?
-
-
- The sentries at the Castle Gate,
- We hold the outer wall,
- That echoes to the roar of hate
- And savage bugle-call--
- Of those that seek to enter in with steel and eager flame,
- To leave you with but eyes to weep the day the Germans came.
-
- Though we may catch from out the Keep
- A whining voice of fear,
- Of one who whispers "Rest and sleep,
- And lay aside the spear,"
- We pay no heed to such as he, as soft as we are hard;
- We take our word from men alone--the men that rule the guard.
-
- We hear behind us now and then
- The voices of the grooms,
- And bickerings of serving-men
- Come faintly from the rooms;
- But let them squabble as they please, we will not turn aside,
- But--curse to think it was for them that fighting men have died.
-
- Whatever they may say or try,
- We shall not pay them heed;
- And though they wail and talk and lie,
- We hold our simple Creed--
- No matter what the cravens say, however loud the din,
- Our Watch is on the Castle Gate, and none shall enter in.
-
-
-
-
-THE UNCHANGING SEX
-
-
-
-
-THE UNCHANGING SEX.
-
-
- When the battle-worn Horatius, 'midst the cheering Roman throng--
- All flushed with pride and triumph as they carried him along--
- Reached the polished porch of marble at the doorway of his home,
- He felt himself an Emperor--the bravest man of Rome.
- The people slapped him on the back and knocked his helm askew,
- Then drifted back along the road to look for something new.
- Then Horatius sobered down a bit--as you would do to-day--
- And straightened down his tunic in a calm, collected way.
- He hung his battered helmet up and wiped his sandals dry,
- And set a parting in his hair--the same as you and I.
- His lady kissed him carefully and looked him up and down,
- And gently disengaged his arm to spare her snowy gown.
- "You _are_ a real disgrace, you know, the worst I've ever seen;
- Now go and put your sword away, I _know_ it isn't clean.
- And you must change your clothes at once, you're simply wringing wet;
- You've been doing something mischievous, I hope you lost your bet....
- Why! you're bleeding on the carpet. Who's the brute that hurt you so?
- Did you kill him? _There's a darling!_ Serve him right for
- hitting low."
- Then she hustled lots of water, turning back her pretty sleeves,
- And she set him on the sofa (having taken off his greaves).
- And bold Horatius purred aloud, the stern Horatius smiled,
- And didn't seem to mind that he was treated like a child.
- Though she didn't call him Emperor, or cling to him and cry,
- Yet I rather think he liked it--just the same as you and I.
-
-
-
-
-LOOKING AFT
-
-
-
-
-LOOKING AFT.
-
-
- I'm the donkey-man of a dingy tramp
- They launched in 'Eighty-one,
- Rickety, old, and leaky too--but some o' the rivets are shining new
- Beneath our after-gun.
-
- An' she an' meself are off to sea
- From out o' the breaker's hands,
- An' we laugh to find such an altered game, for devil a thing we
- found the same
- When we came off the land.
-
- We used to carry a freight of trash
- That younger ships would scorn,
- But now we're running a decent trade--howitzer-shell and hand-grenade,
- Or best Alberta corn.
-
- We used to sneak an' smouch along
- Wi' rusty side an' rails,
- Hoot an' bellow of liners proud--"Give us the room that we're allowed;
- Get out o' the track--the Mails!"
-
- We sometimes met--an' took their wash--
- The 'aughty ships o' war,
- An' we dips to them--an' they to us--an' on they went in a
- tearin' fuss,
- But now they count us more.
-
- For now we're "England's Hope and Pride"--
- The Mercantile Marine,--
- "Bring us the goods and food we lack, because we're hungry,
- Merchant Jack"
- (As often I have been).
-
- "You're the man to save us now,
- We look to you to win;
- Wot'd yer like? A rise o' pay? We'll give whatever you like to say,
- But bring the cargoes in."
-
- An' here we are in the danger zone,
- Wi' escorts all around,
- Destroyers a-racing to and fro--"We will show you the way to go,
- An' guide you safe an' sound."
-
- "An' did you cross in a comfy way,
- Or did you have to run?
- An' is the patch on your hull we see the mark of a bump
- in 'Ninety-three,
- Or the work of a German gun?"
-
- "We'll lead you now, and keep beside,
- An' call to all the Fleet,
- Clear the road and sweep us in--he carries a freight we need to win,
- A golden load of wheat."
-
- Yes, we're the hope of England now,
- And rank wi' the Navy too;
- An' all the papers speak us fair--"Nothing he will not lightly dare,
- Nothing he fears to do."
-
- "Be polite to Merchant Jack,
- Who brings you in the meat,
- For if he went on a striking lay, you'd have to go on your
- knees and pray,
- With never a bone to eat."
-
- But you can lay your papers down
- An' set your fears aside,
- For we will keep the ocean free--we o' the clean an' open sea--
- To break the German pride.
-
- We won't go canny or strike for pay,
- Or say we need a rest;
- But you get on wi' the blinkin' War--an' not so much o' your
- strikes ashore,
- Or givin' the German best.
-
-
-
-
-A MAXIM
-
-
-
-
-A MAXIM.
-
-
- When the foe is pressing and the shells come down
- In a stream like maxim fire,
- When the long grey ranks seem to thicken all the while,
- And they stamp on the last of the wire,
- When all along the line comes a whisper on the wind
- That you hear through the drumming of the guns:
- "They are through over there and the right is in the air,
- And there isn't any end to the Huns,"--
- Then keep along a-shooting till you can't shoot more,
- And hit 'em with a shovel on the head.
- Don't forget a lot of folk have beaten them before,
- And a Hun'll never hurt you if he's dead.
- If you're in a hole and your hopes begin to fail,
- If you're in a losing fight,
- Think a bit of Jonah in the belly of the whale,
- _'Cause-he-got-out-all-right_.
-
-
-
-
-THE CRISIS
-
-
-
-
-THE CRISIS.
-
-
- When the Spartan heroes tried
- To hold the broken gate,
- When--roaring like the rising tide--
- The Persian horsemen charged and died
- In foaming waves of hate.
-
- When with armour hacked and torn
- They gripped their shields of brass,
- And hailed the gods that light the morn
- With battle-cry of hope forlorn,
- "We shall not let them pass."
-
- While they combed their hair for death
- Before the Persian line,
- They spoke awhile with easy breath,
- "What think ye the Athenian saith
- In Athens as they dine?"
-
- "Doth he repent that we alone
- Are here to hold the way,
- That he must reap what he hath sown--
- That only valour may atone
- The fault of yesterday?
-
- "Is he content that thou and I--
- Three hundred men in line--
- Should show him thus how man may try
- To stay the foemen passing by
- To Athens, where they dine?
-
- "Ah! now the clashing cymbal rings,
- The mighty host is nigh;
- Let Athens talk of passing things--
- But here, three hundred Spartan kings
- Shall greet the fame the Persian brings
- To men about to die."
-
-
-
-
-A SEA CHANTY
-
-
-
-
-A SEA CHANTY.
-
-
- There's a whistle of the wind in the rigging overhead,
- And the tune is as plain as can be.
- "Hey! down below there--d'you know it's going to blow there,
- All across the cold North Sea?"
-
- And along comes the gale from the locker in the North
- By the Storm-King's hand set free,
- And the wind and the snow and the sleet come forth,
- Let loose to the cold North Sea.
-
- Tumble out the oilskins, the seas are running white,
- There's a wet watch due for me,
- For we're heading to the east, and a long wet night
- As we drive at the cold North Sea.
-
- See the water foaming as the waves go by
- Like the tide on the sands of Dee;
- Hear the gale a-piping in the halliards high
- To the tune of the cold North Sea.
-
- See how she's meeting them, plunging all the while,
- Till I'm wet to the sea-boot knee;
- See how she's beating them--twenty to the mile--
- The waves of the cold North Sea.
-
- Right across from Helgoland to meet the English coast,
- Lie better than the likes of we,--
- Men that lived in many ways, but went to join the host
- That are buried by the cold North Sea.
-
- Rig along the life-lines, double-stay the rails,
- Lest the Storm-King call for a fee;
- For if any man should slip, through the rolling of the ship,
- He'd be lost in the cold North Sea.
-
- We are heading to the gale, and the driving of the sleet,
- And we're far to the east of Three.
- Hey! you German sailormen, here's the British Fleet
- Waiting in the cold North Sea.
-
-
-
-
-A.D. 400
-
-
-
-
-A.D. 400.
-
-
- A long low ship from the Orkneys' sailed,
- With a full gale driving her along,
- Three score sailormen singing as they baled
- To the tune of a Viking song--
-
- _We have a luck-charm
- Carved on the tiller,
- Cut in the fore-room
- See we Thor's Hammer;
- Gods will protect us
- Under a shield-burgh,
- Carved in the mast we--
- The Runes of Yggdrasil!_
-
- But the Earl called down from the kicking tiller-head,
- "Six hands lay along to me!
- Tumble out the hawsers there, Skallagrim the Red!
- For a battle with a Berserk sea;
- Sing a song of work, of a well-stayed mast,
- Of clinch and rivet and pine,
- Of a bull's-hide sail we can carry to the last
- Of a well-built ship like mine.
- Never mind the Runes on the bending tree
- Or the charms on the tiller that I hold,
- Trust to your hands and the Makers of the Sea,
- To the gods of the Viking bold!
-
- _Thor of the Hammer--
- King of the Warriors,
- We are not thralls here
- --Men of the sea;
- We are not idle,
- Fight we as seamen,
- Worthy your aid then
- --Men of the Sea!"_
-
-
-
-
-OVERDUE
-
-
-
-
-OVERDUE.
-
-
- In the evening--in the sunset--when the long day dies,
- Out across the broad Atlantic, where the great seas go,
- When the Golden Gates are open and the sunlight flies,
- The fairy Islands drift and fade against the crimson glow.
-
- In the evening, when the fiery sun was sinking in the West,
- St Brandan and the chosen few went sailing out to sea,--
- To the Westward--to the sunset--to the Golden Isle of rest,
- The haven of the weary men, the land of Fairie.
-
- Is it only in the sunset we may find the Golden Fleece?
- Is it only to the Westward that the Fairyland is found?
- And those who went away from us and passed from war to peace--
- Are they looking still for Fairyland the wide world round?
-
- Then as I gazed across the dark the morning answer came--
- To Eastward stretched the golden sea for many a golden mile;
- The far horizon joined the sky in dancing lines of flame--
- And drifting on the seas of dawn, I saw St Brandan's Isle.
-
-
- PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's On Patrol, by John Graham Bower and Klaxon
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The Project Gutenberg's eBook of On Patrol, by Klaxon.
@@ -183,42 +183,7 @@ hr.c25
</style>
</head>
<body>
-
-
-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Patrol, by John Graham Bower and Klaxon
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
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-
-
-Title: On Patrol
-
-Author: John Graham Bower
- Klaxon
-
-Release Date: January 29, 2013 [EBook #41944]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON PATROL ***
-
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-Produced by sp1nd, Mary Akers and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
-
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-</pre>
-
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41944 ***</div>
<div class="transnote">
<p>Transcriber's note:<br />
@@ -948,9 +913,9 @@ Edinburgh and London<br />
<div class="line i2"> Wherever he comes aboard."</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
-<div class="line">The Admiral landed Cabré-wise</div>
+<div class="line">The Admiral landed Cabré-wise</div>
<div class="line i2"> And high the fountains burst&mdash;</div>
-<div class="line">(What is the meaning of Cabré-wise? To men of the air it signifies&mdash;</div>
+<div class="line">(What is the meaning of Cabré-wise? To men of the air it signifies&mdash;</div>
<div class="line i2"> His after-end was first).
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span></div>
</div>
@@ -1134,7 +1099,7 @@ Edinburgh and London<br />
<div class="line">When the cannon ceased abruptly and they heard the Germans cheer,</div>
<div class="line">And a sergeant entered roaring, "Himmel, Ach! was Schmutz ist hier!</div>
<div class="line">Mask your faces, pig-dogs, quickly&mdash;all the room is full of gas.</div>
-<div class="line">Vorwärts, Carl der Kindermörder&mdash;use your bayonet, Saxon ass!"</div>
+<div class="line">Vorwärts, Carl der Kindermörder&mdash;use your bayonet, Saxon ass!"</div>
<div class="line">Faithful to the last, the Chairman, spying strangers all around,</div>
<div class="line">Told them they were out of order; hardly seemed to touch the ground.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span></div>
@@ -3058,379 +3023,6 @@ abruptly than he would dare to do without its assistance.</p>
<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> O.O.D.&mdash;Officer of the day.</p>
</div></div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
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-End of Project Gutenberg's On Patrol, by John Graham Bower and Klaxon
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