Tacking Ship Off Shore
By Walter Mitchell
The weather-leech of the topsail shivers,
The bowlines strain, and the lee-shrouds slacken,
The braces are taut, the lithe boom quivers,
And the waves with the coming squall-cloud blacken.
Open one point on the weather-bow,
Is the light-house tall on Fire Island Head.
There 's a shade of doubt on the captain's brow,
And the pilot watches the heaving lead.
I stand at the wheel, and with eager eye
To sea and to sky and to shore I gaze,
Till the muttered order of "Full and by!"
Is suddenly changed for "Full for stays!"
The ship bends lower before the breeze,
As her broadside fair to the blast she lays;
And she swifter springs to the rising seas,
As the pilot calls, "Stand by for stays!"
It is silence all, as each in his place,
With the gathered coil in his hardened hands,
By tack and bowline, by sheet and brace,
Waiting the watchword impatient stands.
And the light on Fire Island Head draws near,
As, trumpet-winged, the pilot's shout
From his post on the bowsprit's heel I hear,
With the welcome call of "Ready! About!"
No time to spare! It is touch and go;
And the captain growls, "Down helm! hard down!"
As my weight on the whirling spokes I throw,
While heaven grows black with the storm-cloud's frown.
High o'er the knight-heads flies the spray,
As we meet the shock of the plunging sea;
And my shoulder stiff to the wheel I lay,
As I answer, "Ay, ay, sir! Ha-a-rd a-lee!"
With the swerving leap of a startled steed
The ship flies fast in the eye of the wind,
The dangerous shoals on the lee recede,
And the headland white we have left behind.
The topsails flutter, the jibs collapse,
And belly and tug at the groaning cleats;
The spanker slats, and the mainsail flaps;
And thunders the order, "Tacks and sheets!"
Mid the rattle of blocks and the tramp of the crew,
Hisses the rain of the rushing squall:
The sails are aback from clew to clew,
And now is the moment for "Mainsail, haul!"
And the heavy yards, like a baby's toy,
By fifty strong arms are swiftly swung:
She holds her way, and I look with joy
For the first white spray o'er the bulwarks flung.
"Let go, and haul!" 'T is the last command,
And the head-sails fill to the blast once more:
Astern and to leeward lies the land,
With its breakers white on the shingly shore.
What matters the reef, or the rain, or the squall?
I steady the helm for the open sea;
The first mate clamors, "Belay, there, all!"
And the captain's breath once more comes free.
And so off shore let the good ship fly;
Little care I how the gusts may blow,
In my fo'castle bunk, in a jacket dry.
Eight bells have struck, and my watch is below.
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Tax Day was yet another glorious spring day in the DC area. I got to have lunch with
Speaking of Enterprise, here is my very, very scathing "Bound" review at TrekToday, and I didn't even set phasers on kill; I didn't feel like there was any point in unleashing the full feminist rant on something so obvious. It was worse than any episode of the original series, because the original series was the original series and has being made in the '60s as an excuse for some of its stupidity; Enterprise has NO excuse, not with so many fans still trying to save it even though the sets have been packed away and the actors are out auditioning for other shows. In fact, there was only one thing that amused me in "Bound".
1. The complete disappearance from canon of the last nine episodes of La Femme Nikita.
2. The eighth season and following that X-Files should have had rather than the ones it got.
3. The disappearance of Cordelia from Buffy and Angel except as a once-in-a-blue-moon guest star.
4. A conclusion to VR5...an episode, a miniseries, another season...
5. I feel like an idiot saying this, after all this time, but...Janeway/Chakotay. Was anything so obvious ever botched so badly in the history of television?
1. Who inspires you? See my icon.
2. Who disappoints you? 9/10 of the elected officials of the United States. And an unfortunate percentage of the people who elected them.
3. Who makes you angry? See above.
4. Who makes you laugh? Monty Python.
5. Who do you love? This is the kind of question that makes these fiver things silly. If you read this journal you already know who I love. I'm not bothering with
Sometimes my mother's guilt trips are so effective that I can't even figure out where my obligations lie. For instance, my mother has issues with my father's brother's second wife, which I consider to be fairly trivial complaints having more to do with cultural differences than anything personal. I am undoubtedly biased because my uncle's wife has been extremely generous and nice to us and our kids when we have visited them, and she's been very friendly to my in-laws as well when they're not even relatives of hers by marriage. Is it my responsibility to defend my uncle's wife because I like her, or to sympathize with my mother who is generally quite generous toward people and I can't quite figure out her beef here over such small matters?
Seagulls approach the rigging of Grand Turk in port at Whitby.
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