XXXIII. It may be easily supposed, while this Was going on, some people were unquiet, That passengers would find it much amiss To lose their lives, as well as spoil their diet; That even the able seaman, deeming his Days nearly o'er, might be disposed to riot, As upon such occasions tars will ask For grog, and sometimes drink rum from the cask. XXXIV. There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms As rum and true religion: thus it was, Some plundered, some drank spirits, some sung psalms, The high wind made the treble, and as bass The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws: Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion, Clamoured in chorus to the roaring Ocean. XXXV. Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for[bc] Our Juan, who, with sense beyond his years, Got to the spirit-room, and stood before It with a pair of pistols;[104] and their fears, As if Death were more dreadful by his door Of fire than water, spite of oaths and tears, Kept still aloof the crew, who, ere they sunk, Thought it would be becoming to die drunk. XXXVI. "Give us more grog," they cried, "for it will be All one an hour hence." Juan answered, "No! 'T is true that Death awaits both you and me, But let us die like men, not sink below Like brutes:"--and thus his dangerous post kept he, And none liked to anticipate the blow; And even Pedrillo, his most reverend tutor, Was for some rum a disappointed suitor. XXXVII. The good old gentleman was quite aghast, And made a loud and pious lamentation; Repented all his sins, and made a last Irrevocable vow of reformation; Nothing should tempt him more (this peril past) To quit his academic occupation, In cloisters of the classic Salamanca, To follow Juan's wake, like Sancho Panca. XXXVIII. But now there came a flash of hope once more; Day broke, and the wind lulled: the masts were gone The leak increased; shoals round her, but no shore, The vessel swam, yet still she held her own.[105] They tried the pumps again, and though before Their desperate efforts seemed all useless grown, A glimpse of sunshine set some hands to bale-- The stronger pumped, the weaker thrummed a sail. XXXIX. Under the vessel's keel the sail was passed, And for the moment it had some effect; But with a leak, and not a stick of mast, Nor rag of canvas, what could they expect? But still 't is best to struggle to the last, 'T is never too late to be wholly wrecked: And though 't is true that man can only die once, 'T is not so pleasant in the Gulf of Lyons.[bd]