The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1912-04-25
THE SHIPPERS WOES.

Have pity, " Marine and Local Boards.
Ye little masnatss--yea, most mighty lords
On the poor skipper. for his lot IL cast
Where Fate unkipd pursues HIM 70 tne last.
Alasl poor man, Is ID an evil plight,
He's always wrong. he's never in the right.
Upon him. like a scapegoat. must be thrown
The faults of others, not to say his own;
Disaster comes, and tho twas not his fault.
Z" IT'S plain the fellow is not worth MS salt.
Should fog or currents put his reckoning out.
At once they ask: "What is the fool about?"
His ship is wrecked, or by collision sunk;
Of course he has to prove he wasn't drunk;
If freights are low-who but himself is to
blame?
Jacks duff is spoiled, at once he says the
same;
The beef all bone and innocent of fat.
| Who but skipper is to blame for that?
| He shortens sail on some dark stormy night,
| Jack growls, and vows he did it out of spite.
Now he must teach the carpenter his trade;
| Now show sailmaker how the sails are made;
In times of need he must be midwife too,
| Or help to kill-as other doctors do.
Should poor sailor sleep his long last sleep,
| He-parson then-consigns him to the deep,
! And if he has tear or two to spare
| He acts chief mourner and bestows them there.
Well up in cooking, and in skill profound
| At weighing tea and sugar by the pound.
Should there be strife and mutiny on board,
| He drops the scales and then takes up the
sword,
And when the strife is over goes his rounds
As surgeon then. binds up the gaping wounds.
Now, an astronomer, he views the stars,
| Measures distance 'twixt Moon and Mars;
| A Meteorologist we find him now,
Recording Gains winds-blow high or low.
OF course he's Euclid at his fingers ends,
Or what is harder, knows all knots and bends;
Versed in exchanges, up in bills of lading,
And now merchant, for his owners trading,
They praise him high, declare he is gem;
/ Tho 10 fho oil tO
On deck all night amid the pelting rain.
In wearying calm or dreadful hurricane,
China's typhoon, cyclone in Indian seas,
Afric's tornadoes-all mere trifes these;
Or the bright glare of night off Newfoundland
Proclaims the dreadful iceberg close at hand.
Such dangers Ger, long wished-for rest is
! sought,
But "hard a-starboard!" and then "hard-a
port!'
Disturbs his dreams. and rushing from below,
ga light close to, sir, on the weather bowl
"Hard up!' bawls one; "hard DOWN. another
| cries,
While half asleep the weary skipper tries
To peer amid the gloom, there to discern
| A steamers light-now half mile astern.
Once more he sleeps, but now his sleep invade
Dreams of Inquiry Courts and Boards of
| Trade.
On board of steamer, now, he scorns the wind,
But other cares Cypress his anxious mind;
OF valves and pistons, cylinders and screws,
He knows, or ought to know, the names and
| use,
Surface condensers, steam and vacuum gauges,
| OF coal combustion in its various stages,
! Of salt in boilers and its incrustations,
Of screw propellers and side wheel gyrations,
Of things in general air, sky and sea
A walking cyclopedia he must be.
Arrived in port, "Well, what's up now?" you
ask.
They've found little powder in flask
Fine ihim five pounds: and see-the careless
dog
Here's an omission in the official log,
Fine him again-the law must be enforced;
Some must pay, SO let him bear the cost.
Alas, poor skipper, if at sea you've trouble
Arrived in port you may perhaps have double
You're fined for this because you didn't do it,
For something else because you never knew it
Fined to the last, and turned from door tt
door,
To find you are not wanted any more.
An Old Salt. in Deer Isle Messenger.