"Ice," said the bosun, sniffing like a dog
Across the rail to wind'ard in the Cape Horn fog, —
"Ice," said the bosun, "wot sunk the Skerryvore
Time I sailed on board 'er back in 'seventy-four."
"The Ol' Man was a looney — worst I ever knew;
'E cracked on to blazes when it was thick as stew;
'E bunged through it blindfold — fourteen knots we ran
Till we fouled a berg bigger 'n the blinkin' Calf o' Man."
"We run our bows on it in the middle o' the night,
An' a fallin' spar killed 'im — an' dam well sarve 'im right!
We took to the longboat, and it was jump or drown;
She'd 'ardly touched the water when the ol' ship went down."
"We made land at daybreak — ice an' sand an' stones,
An' seabirds wailin' an' a wind that chilled your bones;
An' for two blessed months there we lived like fightin'-cocks
On the winkles an' seaweed we gathered off the rocks."
"Till a spouter chanced to sight us, cruisin' round that way,
Or else we'd be stiff 'uns layin' there to-day;
An' ice," said the bosun, sniffing once again,
"Is a thing I've had no use for, no, never since then."
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