Christmas
at Sea
By Robert Louis Stevenson
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 maintops’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 as 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 we bought 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 his glass against his eye.
The
frost was on the village roofs and 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 sniffed 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 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 topgallant sails,’ I heard the captain call.
‘By
the Lord, she’ll never stand it,’ our first mate, Jackson, cried.
…’It’s
the 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 mighty 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.
