Poems (David)/Anecdote of a Boy
ANECDOTE OF A BOY,
who was saved during the hurricane which happened off St. Thomas' Island, West Indies, when the royal mail steamer "Rhone" was lost, and many other vessels of different nations. Nearly all the "Rhone" crew perished from the effects of this most fearful "cyclone"; such a one not having been experienced for many, many years. (Oct. 29th, 1867.)
The Boy's Story.—Value of a Life Buoy.
John Bailey, an intelligent looking lad, living at 5, Regent street, Southampton, said,—
"When the ship 'Rhone' struck I was on deck, and jumped on the port side, and then into the water. I was then about half an hour on a piece of wood; and then I saw an ordinary seaman, named Gough, fall out of a life buoy, and I swam towards it. I was knocking about a long time, with both my arms through the lanyards, until it began to rain, and then I thought it was no good stopping any longer, and so I dropped off to sleep in the buoy; but I had no supper first though! I did not dream at all, and when I woke up I was near the shingle, about three quarters of a mile from the shore. I struck off for the shore, and saved myself; and then laid down, and went to sleep all night, with the life buoy for my pillow. The buoy is marked 'Rhone,' and I have brought it home with me. Of course I had nothing for my breakfast. I walked about for two or three hours on Beef Island; and then I fell in with two others, and we have come home in the "Douro."
And land is fading fast;
The harbour mouth long left behind,
The isles will soon be past.
To catch the tropic gales;
Ah'! well a hundred hearts beat high,
The moment when she sails!
Amidst the ocean's wave,
And thro' the darkness the young moon
Shines ghostly as the grave.
Around her course along;
And thro' the cords and brailed sails
It moans its mournful song.
Swift o'er the angry deep;—
She tossing here, and labouring there,
Her midnight course doth keep.
The waters rolling free;
The light'ning shows, with fitful glare,
An isle upon her lee.
A wreck amid the rocks;
And piece by piece, she slowly yields
Before the wild deep's shocks!
A hundred hearts now quail,—
As in their souls they curs'd the hour
When tempted thus to sail.
Around the broken mast;
'The moaning surge, the crashing plank,
In dire review are past!
Wash'd from the sinking ship—
As o'er the gale there sweeps the cry
That's breath'd by dying lips!
There bounds one youthful form,—
Clings closely to yon floating buoy
For safety mid the storm.
The crystal waters sweep,
And down within its rolling trough
He rests upon the deep!
The Sailor Boy to save;—
And drifting on, he seems to be
But hanging o'er his grave!
Has sealed his eyes in sleep:
Ah! Thou above the Sailor Boy
A sov'reign watch doth keep.
Distress his weary breast;
And ne'er illusion of the night
Can break the Sea Boy's rest!
His youthful conscience clear;—
And though upon the deep, he feels
That he hath nought to fear.
Athwart the eastern sky;
O'er head, in ever circling flight,
The sea bird wheeling by.
With stretch of pure white strand;
The eddying waters bear him on,
Till safely reached, the land!
With cheerful heart once more,—
He feels his foot hath touched the reef,
And safely greets the shore.
The life buoy for his pillow;
And sleeps once more, on palmy isle,
Saved from the wrathful billow!