XLVII. But in the long-boat they contrived to stow Some pounds of bread, though injured by the wet; Water, a twenty-gallon cask or so; Six flasks of wine; and they contrived to get A portion of their beef up from below,[109] And with a piece of pork, moreover, met, But scarce enough to serve them for a luncheon-- Then there was rum, eight gallons in a puncheon. XLVIII. The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had Been stove in the beginning of the gale;[110] And the long-boat's condition was but bad, As there were but two blankets for a sail,[111] And one oar for a mast, which a young lad Threw in by good luck over the ship's rail; And two boats could not hold, far less be stored, To save one half the people then on board. XLIX. 'T was twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown[bf] Of one whose hate is masked but to assail. Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown, And grimly darkled o'er the faces pale, And the dim desolate deep: twelve days had Fear[bg] Been their familiar, and now Death was here. L. Some trial had been making at a raft, With little hope in such a rolling sea, A sort of thing at which one would have laughed,[112] If any laughter at such times could be, Unless with people who too much have quaffed, And have a kind of wild and horrid glee, Half epileptical, and half hysterical:-- Their preservation would have been a miracle. LI. At half-past eight o'clock, booms, hencoops, spars, And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose, That still could keep afloat the struggling tars,[113] For yet they strove, although of no great use: There was no light in heaven but a few stars, The boats put off o'ercrowded with their crews; She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port, And, going down head foremost--sunk, in short.[114] LII. Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell-- Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave,-- Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,[115] As eager to anticipate their grave; And the sea yawned around her like a hell, And down she sucked with her the whirling wave, Like one who grapples with his enemy, And strives to strangle him before he die. LIII. And first one universal shriek there rushed, Louder than the loud Ocean, like a crash Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed, Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash Of billows; but at intervals there gushed, Accompanied by a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony.