To have others' thoughts follow you still on your path!—
There's never a soul gives a thought to me.—
Lights in the sconces! I'll put out those lights.
I will hit upon something!—I'll make them all drunk;—
Not one of the devils shall go sober ashore.
They shall all come home drunk to their children and wives!
They shall curse; bang the table till it rings again,—
They shall scare those that wait for them out of their wits!
The goodwife shall scream and rush forth from the house,—
Clutch her children along! All their joy gone to ruin!
[The ship gives a heavy lurch; he staggers and keeps his balance with difficulty.
Why, that was a buffet and no mistake.
The sea's hard at labour, as though it were paid for it;—
It's still itself here on the coasts of the north;—
A cross-sea, as wry and wrong-headed as ever
[Listens.
Why, what can those screams be?
The Look-out.
[Forward.]
A wreck a-lee
The Captain.
[On the main deck, shouts.]
Starboard your helm! Bring her up to the wind!
