Another Forecastle Ditty

“It was one November—the second day— 

The admiral he bore away, 

Intending for his native shore. 

The wind at sou’sou’west did roar; 

There was likewise a terrible sky, 

Which made the sea to run mountains high. 

“The tide of ebb it was not done, 

But fiercely to the west did run; 

Which put us all in terrible fear, 

Because there was not room for to veer. 

The wind and weather increased sore, 

And drove ten sail of us on shore. 

“Ashore went the Northumberland, 

The Harwich, and the Cumberland, 

The Lion and the Warwick too; 

But the Elizabeth had the most to rue— 

She came stem on—her fore-foot broke. 

And she sunk the Gloucester at one stroke. 

“But now remains what is worse to tell, 

The greatest ships had the greatest knell; 

The brave C’ronation and all her men 

Was lost and drowned every one, 

Except the mate and eighteen more 

What in the long boat com’d ashore. 

“And thus they lost their precious lives; 

But the greatest loss was to their wives, 

Who, with their children left on shore, 

Their husbands’ watery death deplore, 

And wept their loss with many tears— 

But grief endureth not for years. 

“Now you who’ve a mind to go to sea, 

Pray take a useful hint from me, 

And live at home, and be content 

With what kind Providence has sent; 

For they were punish’d for their misdeeds, 

In grumbling when they had no needs. 

  

“Now God preserve our noble Queen, 

Likewise her Ministers serene; 

And may they ever steer a course 

To make things better ’stead of worse, 

And England’s flag triumphant fly, 

The dread of hevery he-ne-my.” 

Chapter 17, Poor Jack, by Frederick Marryat, 1840