XXXII. Immediately the masts were cut away, It XXXIII. may be easily supposed, while this Was going on, some people were unquiet, That passengers would find it much amiss To lose their lives as well as spoil their diet, That even the able seaman, deeming his Days nearly o'er, might be disposed to riot, As upon such occasions tars will ask For grog, and sometimes drink rum from the cask. . XXXIV. There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms, Some plunder'd, some drank spirits, some sung psalms, The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms XXXV. Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for It with a pair of pistols; and their fears, Of fire and water, spite of oaths and tears, Kept still aloof the crew, who ere they sunk, Thought it would be becoming to die drunk. XXXVI. "Give us more grog," they cried, "for it will be "But let us die like men, not sink below XXXVII. The good old gentleman was quite aghast. To follow Juan's wake like Sancho Panza. XXXVIII: But now there came a flash of hope once more; XXXIX. Under the vessel's keel the sail was past, 'Tis never too late to be wholly wreck'd; And though tis true that man can only die once, 'Tis not so pleasant in the Gulf of Lyons. XL. There winds and waves had hurl'd them, and from thence, For they were forced with steering to dispense, On which they might repose, or even commence The ship would swim an hour, which by good luck XLI. The wind, in fact, perhaps, was rather less, Was also great with which they had to cope Was scant enough; in vain the telescope Was used-nor sail nor shore appear'd in sight, Nought but the heavy sea, and coming night. XLII. Again the weather threaten'd-again blew All this, the most were patient, and some bold, XLIII. Then came the carpenter, at last, with tears And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea, XLIV. The ship was evidently settling now Fast by the head; and, all distinction gone, Some went to prayers again, and made a vow Of candles to their saints-but there were none To pay them with: and some look'd o'er the bow; Some hoisted out the boats; and there was one That begg'd Pedrillo for an absolution, Who told him to be damn'd-in his confusion. XLV. Some lash'd them in their hammocks, some put on And gnash'd their teeth, and, howling, tore their hair, And others went on as they had begun, Getting the boats out, being well aware That a tight boat will live in a rough sea, Unless with breakers close beneath her lee. XLVI. The worst of all was, that in their condition, Having been several days in great distress, "Twas difficult to get out such provision As now might render their long suffering less. Men, even when dying, dislike inanition; Their stock was damaged by the weather's stress; Two casks of biscuit, and a keg of butter, Were all that could be thrown into the cutter. XLVII. But in the long-boat they contrived to stow Six flasks of wine; and they contrived to get And with a piece of pork, moreover, metBut scarce enough to serve them for a luncheon ; Then there was rum, eight gallons in a puncheon XLVIII. The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had Threw in by good luck over the ship's rail: And two boats could not hold, far less be stored, To save one half the people then on board. XLIX. 'Twas twilight, for the sunless day went down And hopeless eyes, which o'er the deep alone L. Some trial had been making at a raft, Their preservation would have been a miracle. LI. At half past eight o'clock, booms, hencoops, spars, |