Skipper Jason Ellison

His nose was like a liver hung against a Hubbard squash,
--That nose of Jason Ellison, the skipper of the "Hanks."
His nose was like a liver and the color wouldn't wash,
But the men that "chanced" on trips with him, they always got the dosh,.
For there wa'n't another skipper who could touch him on the Banks.
Whether biz was tight or slack,
--When Jase came sailin' back
A gang was always coaxin' for a berth upon his smack.
Not another Gloucester skipper
Had sech easy job to ship a
Topper-notcher fishin' crew, with ev'ry man a crack.
For, you see, he was a wizard;--he did wonders with that nose,
He could sniff and tell the weather-sign of ev'ry gust that rose;
You could figure from its color'twas a most uncommon snoot,
And whenever he predicted no one ventured to dispute.
His eye could nail a fish-slick off a league or so away,
--He could look around a corner, so his fellows used to say;
But the thing'twas most uncommon--where our whole dependence hung,
Was his long and round and peak-ed champion taster of a tongue.
'Twas always out and chasin' round the edges of his lip;
When a nasty time was brewin'
It was always out and doin'
Like as though it felt responsible for helpin' handle ship.
It had tasted ev'ry bottom soil from Quero to the Cow,
It knew the taste and savor, the place and where and how.
--Darkest night or wildest hurricane that ever ramped or blew,
We never lost our bearin's, for old Jason always knew.
We would take some mutton taller and we'd fill the hollowed head
Of the plummet, smooth and even, then a man would throw the lead.
And we'd pass her back to Jason and he'd turn the plummet up,
Taste the scrimp of soil that stuck there on the taller in the cup,
And he'd tell us where we headed, though the night be black's a coal,
For he knew the taste of bottoms from the Cow to Quero Shoal.
--Told us easy, off the reel,
What was underneath our keel,
--Didn't need the sun or quadrant with old
Jason at the wheel;
He was only once mistaken in the memory of men,
--And we've always kept insistin' that he wa'n't mistaken then.
The storm came down upon us from the nor'- nor'east by east,
--'Twas an equinoctial pealer,
A reg'lar ring-tail squealer,
The sky was hasty puddin' and the sea beneath was yeast.
When the Hanks went tossin' up'ards it really seemed we flew,
And the sky seemed splittin' open for to let our vessel through;
When we wallowed down wher-rooshin' in the gulf that gawped beneath,
We'd'a' left our hearts behind us if we hadn't clinched our teeth.
We'd really seem to feel
Old Hankses' battered keel
Go bumpin' on the bottom when she made her downward reel.
But the more she blew and blew,
Old Jason cheered his crew,
--His whiskers whipping snappin' as the wind went screamin' through.
So we hung to brace and riggin' and we let her roar and roll,
While each man pinned to Ellison the safety of his soul.
Then at last we knew'twas night-time by the thick'nin' overhead,
And Jason licked his taster and he yelled:
"Now throw the lead!"
An' we--we blinked to watch him from the darkness where we clung,
And waited for the verdict, of that long and peak-ed tongue.
He tasted--then he waited, and he smacked his lips a spell,
He tasted--tasted--tasted, then he gave an awful yell:
"My God, ye critters, pray!"
--He slung the lead away,--
And howled: "The world is endin'! It's the final Judgment Day!
That plummet, there, has brought us up a handful of the loam
From the Widder Abbott's garden on the Neck ro'd, back at home.
A tidal wave has lifted us--the Hanks has run away!
--It has tossed'er over Glo'ster,
And we sartin sure have lost'er,
'Less ye pray, ye sin-struck critters,'less ye pray, pray, pray!"
Each clung to rope and stanchion, each hung to stay and brace,
Each prayed up at the heavens while the spindrift lashed his face;
We prayed and prayed till mornin'
Till the early, yaller dawnin'
Lit up the sea around us, and it also lit our case;
Then we found an explanation
Of the sing'lar situation
That was figgered in the darkness of the night by Uncle Jase.
For we noticed there was settin' up against the le'ward rail
Some lavender and other yarbs, a-growin' in a pail.
--They'd been brought aboard by Jase
Who had worn a meechin' face,
For his sparkin' of the widder was the gossip of the place.
He knowed a flower-garden looked peecooliar on the Hanks,
But he wanted some momentum of the widder on the Banks.
Now, the plummet bein' handled in the darkness of that night
Somehow cuffed that dirt in passin'--as ye might say, took a bite.
And Jason knew the flavor of that scrimp of garden loam,
--There wa'n't a soil to fool him'twixt Quero Shoal and home.
By the flavor and the feel
He could tell us off the reel,
The name of any bottom that was underneath our keel.
He was only once mistaken in the memory of men,
And his crew will keep insistin' that he wa'n't mistaken then.