The White Squall

  On deck, beneath the awning,
  I dozing lay and yawning;
  It was the gray of dawning,
    Ere yet the sun arose;
  And above the funnel's roaring,
  And the fitful wind's deploring,
  I heard the cabin snoring
    With universal nose.
  I could hear the passengers snorting—
  I envied their disporting—
  Vainly I was courting
    The pleasure of a doze!

  So I lay, and wondered why light
  Came not, and watched the twilight,
  And the glimmer of the skylight,
    That shot across the deck;
  And the binnacle pale and steady,
  And the dull glimpse of the dead-eye,
  And the sparks in fiery eddy
    That whirled from the chimney neck.
  In our jovial floating prison
  There was sleep from fore to mizzen,
  And never a star had risen
    The hazy sky to speck.

  Strange company we harbored,
  We'd a hundred Jews to larboard,
  Unwashed, uncombed, unbarbered—
    Jews black, and brown, and gray;
  With terror it would seize ye,
  And make your souls uneasy,
  To see those Rabbis greasy,
    Who did naught but scratch and pray:
  Their dirty children puking—
  Their dirty saucepans cooking—
  Their dirty fingers hooking
    Their swarming fleas away.

  To starboard, Turks and Greeks were—
  Whiskered and brown their cheeks were—
  Enormous wide their breeks were,
    Their pipes did puff alway;
  Each on his mat allotted
  In silence smoked and squatted,
  Whilst round their children trotted
    In pretty, pleasant play.
  He can't but smile who traces
  The smiles on those brown faces,
  And the pretty, prattling graces
    Of those small heathens gay.

  And so the hours kept tolling,
  And through the ocean rolling
  Went the brave "Iberia" bowling
    Before the break of day—

  When A SQUALL, upon a sudden,
  Came o'er the waters scudding;
  And the clouds began to gather,
  And the sea was lashed to lather,
  And the lowering thunder grumbled,
  And the lightning jumped and tumbled,
  And the ship, and all the ocean,
  Woke up in wild commotion.
  Then the wind set up a howling,
  And the poodle dog a yowling,
  And the cocks began a crowing,
  And the old cow raised a lowing,
  As she heard the tempest blowing;
  And fowls and geese did cackle,
  And the cordage and the tackle
  Began to shriek and crackle;
  And the spray dashed o'er the funnels,
  And down the deck in runnels;
  And the rushing water soaks all,
  From the seamen in the fo'ksal
  To the stokers whose black faces
  Peer out of their bed-places;
  And the captain he was bawling,
  And the sailors pulling, hauling,
  And the quarter-deck tarpauling
  Was shivered in the squalling;
  And the passengers awaken,
  Most pitifully shaken;
  And the steward jumps up, and hastens
  For the necessary basins.

  Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered,
  And they knelt, and moaned, and shivered,
  As the plunging waters met them,
  And splashed and overset them;
  And they call in their emergence
  Upon countless saints and virgins;
  And their marrowbones are bended,
  And they think the world is ended.

  And the Turkish women for'ard
  Were frightened and behorror'd;
  And shrieking and bewildering,
  The mothers clutched their children;
  The men sung "Allah! Illah!
  Mashallah Bismillah!"
  As the warring waters doused them
  And splashed them and soused them,
  And they called upon the Prophet,
  And thought but little of it.

  Then all the fleas in Jewry
  Jumped up and bit like fury;
  And the progeny of Jacob
  Did on the main-deck wake up
  (I wot those greasy Rabbins
  Would never pay for cabins);
  And each man moaned and jabbered in
  His filthy Jewish gaberdine,
  In woe and lamentation,
  And howling consternation.
  And the splashing water drenches
  Their dirty brats and wenches;
  And they crawl from bales and benches
  In a hundred thousand stenches.

  This was the White Squall famous,
  Which latterly o'ercame us,
  And which all will well remember
  On the 28th September;
  When a Prussian captain of Lancers
  (Those tight-laced, whiskered prancers)
  Came on the deck astonished,
  By that wild squall admonished,
  And wondering cried, "Potztausend,
  Wie ist der Strm jetzt brausend?"
  And looked at Captain Lewis,
  Who calmly stood and blew his
  Cigar in all the hustle,
  And scorned the tempest's tussle,
  And oft we've thought thereafter
  How he beat the storm to laughter;
  For well he knew his vessel
  With that vain wind could wrestle;
  And when a wreck we thought her,
  And doomed ourselves to slaughter,
  How gayly he fought her,
  And through the hubbub brought her,
  And as the tempest caught her,

  And when, its force expended,
  The harmless storm was ended,
  And as the sunrise splendid
    Came blushing o'er the sea;
  I thought, as day was breaking,
  My little girls were waking,
  And smiling, and making
    A prayer at home for me.


This poem is in the public domain.