First place, our ship was in the negro trade,
And once off land, no vain attempts were made
At secrecy. Our captain after that
(Round as an egg) was liberal of the cat.
The rope's-end, cuffs, kicks, blows, all fell on me:
I was ship's boy-'twas natural, you see-
And as I went about the decks my arm
Was always raised to fend my face from harm.
No men had pity. Blows and stripes always,
For sailors knew no better in those days
Than to thrash boys, till those who lived at last
As able seamen shipped before the mast.
I ceased to cry. Tears brought me no relief.
I think I might have perished of mute grief,
Had not God sent a friend-a friend-to me.
Sailors believe in God-ore must at sea.
On board that ship a God of mercy then
Had placed a dog among those cruel men.
Like me, he shunned their brutal kicks and blows.
We soon grew friends, fast friends, true friends, God knows!
He was Newfoundland. Black, they called him there.
His eyes were golden brown, and black his hair.
He was my shadow from that blessed night
When we made friends; and by the star's half light,
When all the forecastle was fast asleep,
"caulked their watch," I used to creep
With Black among some boxes stowed on deck,
And with my arms clasped tightly round his neck,
I used to cry and cry, and press my head
Close to the heart grieved by the tears I shed.
Night after night I mourned our piteous case,
While Black's large tongue licked my poor tear-stained face.
Poor Black! I think of him so often still!
At first we had fair winds our sails to fill,
But one hot night, when all was calm and mute,
Our skipper-a good sailor, though a brute-
Gave a long look over the vessel's side,
Then to the steersman whispered, half aside,
"See that ox-eye out yonder? It looks queer."
replied, "The storm will soon be here." "Hullo! All hands on deck! We'll be prepared. Stow royals! Reef the courses! Pass the word!" Vain! The squall broke ere we could shorten sail; We lowered the topsails, but the raging gale
Spun our old ship about. The captain roared
His orders-lost in the great noise on board.
The devil was in that squall! But all men could
To save their ship we did. Do what we would,
The gale grew worse and worse. She sprang a leak;
Her hold filled fast. We found we had to seek
Some way to save our lives. "Lower a boat!"
The captain shouted. Before one would float
Our ship broached to. The strain had broke her back
Like a whole broadside boomed the awful crack.
She settled fast.
Landsmen can have no notion
Of how it feels to sink beneath the ocean.
As the blue billows closed above our deck,
And with slow motion swallowed down the wreck,
I saw my past life, by some flash outspread,
Saw the old port, its ships, its old pier-head,
My own bare feet, the rocks, the sandy shore-
Salt-water filled my mouth-I saw no more.
I did not struggle much-I could not swim.
I sank down deep, it seemed-drowned but for him-
For Black, I mean, who seized my jacket tight,
And dragged me out of darkness back to light.
The ship was gone-the captain's gig afoat;
By one brave tug he brought me near the boat.
I seized the gunwale, sprang on board, and drew
My friend in after me. Of all our crew,
The dog and I alone survived the gale:
Afloat with neither rudder, oars, nor sail!
Boy though I was, my heart was brave and stout,
Yet when the storm had blown its fury out,
I saw with who can tell what wild emotion!-
That if we met no vessel in mid-ocean,
There was no help for us-all hope was gone:
We were afloat-boy, dog-afloat alone!
We had been saved from drowning but to die
Of thirst and hunger-my poor Black and I.
No biscuit in the well-swept locker lay;
No keg of water had been stowed away,
Like those on the Medusa's raft. I thought..
Bah! that's enough. A story is best short.
For five long nights, and longer dreadful days,
We floated onward in a tropic haze.
Fierce hunger gnawed us with its cruel fangs,
And mental anguish with its keener pangs.
Each morn I hoped; each night, when hope was gone,
My poor dog licked me with his tender tongue.
Under the blazing sun and star-lit night
I watched in vain. No sail appeared in sight.
Round us the blue spread wider, bluer, higher.
The fifth day my parched throat was all on fire,
When something suddenly my notice caught-
Black, crouching, shivering, underneath a thwart.
He looked-his dreadful look no tongue can tell-
And his kind eyes glared at me like coals of hell!
"Here, Black! old fellow! here!" I cried in vain.
He looked me in the face and crouched again.
I rose; he snarled, drew back. How piteously
His eyes entreated help. He snapped at me!
"What can this mean?" I cried, yet shook with fear,
With that great shudder felt when death is near.
Black seized the gunwale with his teeth. I saw
Thick slimy foam drip from his awful jaw;
Then I knew all! Five days of tropic heat,
Without one drop of drink, one scrap of meat,
Had made him rabid. He whose courage had
Preserved my life-my messmate, friend-was mad!
You understand? Can you see him and me,
The open boat tossed on a brassy sea,
A child and a wild beast on board alone,
While overhead streams down the tropic sun
And the boy crouching, trembling for his life?
I searched my pockets and I drew my knife-
For every one instinctively, you know,
Defends his life. Twas time that I did so,
For at that moment, with a furious bound,
The dog flew at me. I sprang half around.
He missed me in blind haste. With all my might
I seized his neck, and grasped, and held him tight.
I felt him writhe and try to bite, as he
Struggled beneath the pressure of my knee.
His red eyes rolled; sighs heaved his shining coat.
I plunged my knife three times in his poor throat.
And so I killed my friend. I had but one!
What matters how, after that deed was done,
They picked me up half dead, drenched in his gore,
And took me back to France?
Need I say more?
I have killed men-ay, many-in my day,
Without remorse-for sailors must obey.
One of a squad, once in Barbadoes, I
Shot my own comrade when condemned to die.
I never dream of him, for that was war.
Under old Magon, too, at Trafalgar,
I hacked the hands of English boarders. Ten
My axe lopped off. I dream not of those men.
At Plymouth, in a prison-hulk, I slew
Two English jailers, stabbed them through and through— I did-confound them! But yet even now
The death of Black, although so long ago,
Upsets me. I'll not sleep to-night. It brings.
Here, boy! Another glass! We'll talk of other things!
TRUTH-FREEDOM-VIRTUE.
AN ADDRESS TO A CHILD.
Things of high import sound I in thine ears
Dear child, though now thou mayst not feel their power. But hoard them up, and in thy coming years
Forget them not; and when earth's tempests lower,
A talisman unto thee shall they be,
To give thy weak arm strength, to make thy dim eye see.
Seek TRUTH-that pure, celestial Truth, whose birth
Was in the heaven of heavens, clear, sacred, shrined
In reason's light. Not oft she visits earth;
But her majestic port the willing mind,
Through faith, may sometimes see.
Give her thy soul, Nor faint, though error's surges loudly 'gainst thee roll.
Be FREE not chiefly from the iron chain,
But from the one which passion forges; be
The master of thyself! If lost, regain
The rule o'er chance, sense, circumstance. Be free.
Trample thy proud lusts proudly 'neath thy feet,
And stand erect, as for a heaven-born one is meet.
Seek VIRTUE. Wear her armor to the fight;
Then, as a wrestler gathers strength from strife,
Shalt thou be nerved to a more vigorous might
By each contending, turbulent ill of life.
Seek Virtue; she alone is all divine;
And, having found, be strong in God's own strength and thine,
TRUTH-FREEDOM-VIRTUE-these dear child, have power,
If rightly cherished, to uphold, sustain,
And bless thy spirit, in its darkest hour;
Neglect them-thy celestial gifts are vain
In dust shall thy weak wing be dragged and soiled;
Thy soul be crushed 'neath gauds for which it basely toiled.
ON THE OTHER TRAIN.
A CLOCK'S STORY.
"There, Simmons, you blockhead! Why didn't you trot that old woman aboard her train? She'll have to wait here now until the 1.05 A. M."
"Yes, I did tell you. "Twas only your confounded stupid carelessness."
"She! You fool! What else could you expect of her! Probably she hasn't any wit; besides, she isn't bound on a very jolly journey-got a pass up the road to the poor-house, I'll go and tell her, and if you forget her to-night, see if I I don't make mince meat of you!" and our worthy ticket agent shook his fist menacingly at his subordinate.
"You've missed your train, marm," he remarked coming forward to a queer looking bundle in the corner.
A trembling hand raised the faded black veil, and revealed the sweetest old face I ever saw.
"Never mind," said a quivering voice.
""Tis only three o'clock now; you'll have to wait until the night train, which doesn't go up until 1.05."
"Very well, sir; I can wait."
"Wouldn't you like to go to some hotel? Simmons will show you the way."
"No, thank you, sir. One place is as good as another to me. Besides, I haven't any money."
"Very well," said the agent, turning away indifferently. "Simmons will tell you when it's time."
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