Volume II Part 83 (1/2)

I have honeyed,” he yammers, ”my nose and mine eye, And the bees cannot sting me at all!

And it's O, for the sting of a little brown bee, Or to blister my hands on a rope, Or to buffet a thundering broad-side sea On a deck like a mountain-slope!”

_Chorus:_ With her mast snapt short, and a list to port And a deck like a mountain-slope.

But alas, and he thinks of the chaplain's voice When that roar from the woods out-break-- _R-r-re-joice! R-r-re-joice!_ ”Now, wherefore rejoice In the music a bear could make?

'Tis a judgment, maybe, that I stick in this tree; Yet in this I out-argued him fair!

Though I live, though I die, in this honey-comb pie, By Pope Joan, there's no sense in a bear!”

_Chorus:_ Notes in a nightingale, plums in a pie, By'r Lakin, no _Sense_ in a _Bear_!

He knew not our anchor was heaved from the mud: He was growling it over again, When--a strange sound suddenly froze his blood, And curdled his big slow brain!-- A marvellous sound, as of great steel claws Gripping the bark of his tree, Softly ascended! Like lightning ended His honey-comb reverie!

_Chorus:_ The honey-comb quivered! The little leaves s.h.i.+vered!

_Something was climbing the tree!_

Something that breathed like a fat sea-cook, Or a pirate of fourteen ton!

But it clomb like a cat (tho' the whole tree shook) Stealthily tow'rds the sun, Till, as Black Bill gapes at the little blue ring Overhead, which he calls the sky, It is clean blotted out by a monstrous Thing Which--_hath larded its nose and its eye._

_Chorus:_ O, well for thee, Bill, that this monstrous Thing Hath blinkered its little red eye.

Still as a mouse lies Bill with his face Low down in the dark sweet gold, While this monster turns round in the leaf-fringed s.p.a.ce!

Then--taking a good firm hold, As the skipper descending the cabin-stair, Tail-first with a vast slow tread, Solemnly, softly, cometh this Bear Straight down o'er the Bo'sun's head.

_Chorus:_ Solemnly--slowly--cometh this Bear, Tail-first o'er the Bo'sun's head.

Nearer--nearer--then all Bill's breath Out-bursts in one leap and yell!

And this Bear thinks, ”Now am I gripped from beneath By a roaring devil from h.e.l.l!”

And madly Bill clutches his brown bow-legs, And madly this Bear doth hale, With his little red eyes fear-mad for the skies And Bill's teeth fast in his tail!

_Chorus:_ Small wonder a Bear should quail!

To have larded his nose, to have greased his eyes, And be stung at the last in his tail.

Pull, Bo'sun! Pull, Bear! In the hot sweet gloom, Pull Bruin, pull Bill, for the skies!

Pull--out of their gold with a bombard's boom Come Black Bill's honeyed thighs!

Pull! Up! Up! Up! with a scuffle and scramble, To that little blue ring of bliss, This Bear doth go with our Bo'sun in tow Stinging his tail, I wis.

_Chorus:_ And this Bear thinks--”Many great bees I know, But there never was Bee like this!”

All in the gorgeous death of day We had slipped from our emerald creek, And our _Cloud i' the Sun_ was careening away With the old gay flag at the peak, When, suddenly, out of the purple wood, Breast-high thro' the lilies there danced A tall lean figure, black as a n.i.g.g.e.r, That shouted and waved and pranced!

_Chorus:_ A gold-greased figure, but black as a n.i.g.g.e.r, Waving his s.h.i.+rt as he pranced!

”'Tis Hylas! 'Tis Hylas!” our chaplain flutes, And our skipper he looses a shout!

”'Tis Bill! Black Bill, in his old sea-boots!

_Stand by to bring her about!

Har-r-rd a-starboard!”_ And round we came, With a lurch and a dip and a roll, And a banging boom thro' the rose-red gloom For our old Black Bo'sun's soul!

_Chorus:_ Alive! Not dead! Tho' behind his head He'd a seraphin's aureole!