Graham's Magazine, Vol. XVIII, No. 5, May 1841Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XVIII, No. 5, May 1841
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Go forth! go forth! for the spring-time is come,
And makes in the North his bright sunny home;
The sky is his banner—the hills his throne—
Where in sunshine robed, he sits all alone;
In the depths of the woods his footsteps are seen
By each moss-covered rock and tell-tale stream;
And his voice is heard through each leaf-clad tree,
In the plaint of the dove and the hum of the bee.
* * * * *
THE REEFER OF ’76.
BY THE AUTHOR OF “CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR.”
THE SEA-FIGHT.
“Sail ho!” sung out the look-out, one sunny afternoon, as we bowled
along before a pleasant gale. In an instant the drowsiest amongst us was
fully awake. The officers thronged the quarter-decks; the foretop-men
eagerly scanned the horizon; the skulkers stole out from beneath the
bulwarks where they had been dozing, and the late quiet decks of the
schooner, which but a moment since lay hushed in the drowsy silence of a
sultry afternoon, now swarmed with noisy and curious gazers.
“Whereaway?” asked the officer of the deck.
“Broad on the weather-beam.”
“Can you make her out?”
“A heavy square-rigged vessel.”
“Do her royals lift?”
“Aye, sir; but only this moment.”
“How does she bear?”
“West and by west sou’ west.”
“A West Indiaman, perhaps.”
“Ay, sir, I can see her to’-gallants now: they belong to a heavy craft.”
“Pipe all hands to make sail, boatswain.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“The strange sail is hauling up into the wind,” sung out the look-out.
“Ay—take the glass, Mr. Parker, and spring into the cross trees to see
what you can make of her. All hands aloft—loose and sheet home fore and
maintopsails. Merrily, there. How does she look, Mr. Parker?”
“She seems a heavy merchantman by her rig; ah! now her topsails lift,
large and square, with a cross in them. It’s not the rig of a
man-o’-war.”
“Ease off the sheet—man the lee-braces—hard down the helm.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the quarter-master, as he whirled around the wheel,
and the gallant craft danced lightly up into the wind, like a racer
beneath the spur; while the men stood at their respective stations
eagerly waiting the command.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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