And we saw the sea beneath its track
     Grow dark as the frowning sky,
  And water-spouts, with a rushing sound,
     Like giants, passed us by.

  And all around, ’twixt sky and sea,
     A hollow wind did blow;
  And the waves were heaved from the ocean depths,
     And the ship rocked to and fro.

  I knew it was that fierce death-calm
     Its horrid hold undoing,
  And I saw the plagues of wind and storm
     Their missioned work pursuing.

  There was a yell in the gathering winds,
     A groan in the heaving sea,
  And the captain rushed from the hold below,
     But he durst not look on me.

  He seized each rope with a madman’s haste,
     And he set the helm to go,
  And every sail he crowded on
     As the furious winds did blow.

  And away they went, like autumn leaves
     Before the tempest’s rout,
  And the naked masts with a crash came down,
     And the wild ship tossed about.

  The men, to spars and splintered boards,
     Clung, till their strength was gone,
  And I saw them from their feeble hold
     Washed over one by one.

  And ’mid the creaking timber’s din,
     And the roaring of the sea,
  I heard the dismal, drowning cries
     Of their last agony.

  There was a curse in the wind that blew,
     A curse in the boiling wave;
  And the captain knew that vengeance came
     From the old man’s ocean grave.

  And I heard him say, as he sate apart,
     In a hollow voice and low,
  ’Tis a cry of blood doth follow us,
     And still doth plague us so!’

  And then those heavy iron chests
     With desperate strength took he,
  And ten of the strongest mariners
     Did cast them into the sea.

  And out, from the bottom of the sea,
     There came a hollow groan;—­
  The captain by the gunwale stood,
     And he looked like icy stone—­
  And he drew in his breath with a gasping sob,
     And a spasm of death came on.

  And a furious boiling wave rose up,
     With a rushing, thundering roar,—­
  I saw the captain fall to the deck,
     But I never saw him more.

  Two days before, when the storm began,
     We were forty men and five,
  But ere the middle of that night
     There were but two alive.

  The child and I, we were but two,
     And he clung to me in fear;
  Oh! it was pitiful to see
     That meek child in his misery,
  And his little prayers to hear!

   At length, as if his prayers were heard,
     ’Twas calmer, and anon
  The clear sun shone, and warm and low
     A steady wind from the west did blow,
  And drove us gently on.

  And on we drove, and on we drove,
     That fair young child and I,
  But his heart was as a man’s in strength,
     And he uttered not a cry.