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AMERICAN SEA SONGS. 31 |
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and excitement to relieve. The boats have been lowered, and are darting toward the unsuspecting whale with all the speed of ashen oars and vigorous muscle, while their commanders objurgate and stimulate the crews, as the poet says, "judiciously."
" Pull, men, for, lo, see there they blow ! They 're going slow as night, too. Pull, pull, you dogs ! they lie like logs, — Thank Heaven they 're headed right, too."
" The chance is ours ! " the mate now roars.
" Spring, spring, nor have it said, men, That we could miss a chance like this
To take them head and head, men. There 's that old sog, he 's like a log.
Spring, lads, and show your mettle ; Strain every oar ; let's strike before
He 's gallied, mill, or settle."
And so it is, the chance is his.
The others peak their oars now. From his strained eyes the lightning flies,
And lion-like he roars now. " Pull, pull, my lads ! why don't you pull ?
For God's sake, pull away, men ! Hell's blazes ! pull but three strokes more,
And we have won the day, men !
" Stand up there, forward — pull the rest — Hold water — give it to her ! |
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