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CHRISTMAS AT SEA
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
The sheets
were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;
The decks
were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;
The wind was
a nor’wester, blowing squally off the sea;
And cliffs
and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.
They heard
the surf a-roaring before the break of day’
But ‘twas
only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.
We tumbled
every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,
And we gave
her the main tops’l, and stood by to go about.
All day we
tacked and tacked between the South head and the North;
All day we
hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;
All day was
cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,
For very
life and nature we tacked from head to head.
We gave the
South a wider berth, for there the tide race roared;
But every
tack we made brought the North Head close aboard.
So’s we saw
the cliff and houses and the breakers running high,
And the
coastguard in his garden, with this glass against his eye.
The frost
was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;
The good red
fires were burning bright in every longshore home;
The windows
sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;
And I vow we
smelled the victuals as the vessel went about.
The bells
upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
For it’s
just that I should tell you how (of all the days in the year)
This day of
our adversity was blessed Christmas morn,
And the
house above the coastguard’s was the house where I was born.
O well I saw
the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,
My mother’s
silver spectacles, my father’s silver hair;
And well I
saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,
Go dancing
round the china plates that stand upon the shelves.
And well I
knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,
Of the
shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;
And O the
wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,
To be here
and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day.
They lit the
high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.
“All hands
to loose t’gallant sails,” I heard the captain call.
“By the
Lord, she’ll never stand it,” our first mate, Jackson, cried.
….”It’s one
way or the other, Mr. Jackson,” he replied.
She
staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,
And the ship
smelt up to windward just as though she understood;
As the
winter’s day was ending, in the entry of the night,
We cleared
the weary headland, and passed below the light.
And they
heaved a might breath, every soul on board but me,
As they saw
her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;
But all that
I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
Was just
that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.
Merry Christmas, friends.
Until next time,
Fair Winds
Old Salt
