Pain in a Pleasure-Boat

BOATMAN.

Shove off there!--ship the rudder, Bill--cast off! she's under way!

MRS. F.

She's under what?--I hope she's not! good gracious, what a spray!

BOATMAN.

Run out the jib, and rig the boom! keep clear of those two brigs!

MRS. F.

I hope they don't intend some joke by running of their rigs!

BOATMAN.

Bill, shift them bags of ballast aft--she's rather out of trim!

MRS. F.

Great bags of stones! they're pretty things to help a boat to swim!

BOATMAN.

The wind is fresh--if she don't scud, it's not the breeze's fault!

MRS. F.

Wind fresh, indeed, I never felt the air so full of salt!

BOATMAN.

That schooner, Bill, harn't left the roads, with oranges and nuts!

MRS. F.

If seas have roads, they're very rough--I never felt such ruts!

BOATMAN.

Its neap, ye see, she's heavy lade, and couldn't pass the bar.

MRS. F.

The bar! what, roads with turnpikes too? I wonder where they are!

BOATMAN.

Ho! brig ahoy! hard up! hard up! that lubber cannot steer!

MRS. F.

Yes, yes,--hard up upon a rock! I know some danger's near!
Lord, there's a wave! it's coming in! and roaring like a bull!

BOATMAN.

Nothing, Ma'am, but a little slop! go large, Bill! keep her full!

MRS. F.

What, keep her full! what daring work! when full, she must go down!

BOATMAN.

Why, Bill, it lulls! ease off a bit--it's coming off the town!
Steady your helm! we'll clear the Pint! lay right for yonder pink!

MRS. F.

Be steady--well, I hope they can! but they've got a pint of drink!

BOATMAN.

Bill, give that sheet another haul--she'll fetch it up this reach.

MRS. F.

I'm getting rather pale, I know, and they see it by that speech!
I wonder what it is, now, but--I never felt so queer!

BOATMAN.

Bill, mind your luff--why Bill, I say, she's yawing--keep her near!

MRS. F.

Keep near! we're going further off; the land's behind our backs.

BOATMAN.

Be easy, Ma'am, it's all correct, that's only 'cause we tacks:
We shall have to beat about a bit,--Bill, keep her out to sea.

MRS. F.

Beat who about? keep who at sea?--how black they look at me!

BOATMAN.

It's veering round--I knew it would! oft with her head! stand by!

MRS. F.

Off with her head! whose? where? what with?--an axe I seem to spy!

BOATMAN.

She can't not keep her own, you see; we shall have to pull her in!

MRS. F.

They'll drown me, and take all I have! my life's not worth a pin!

BOATMAN.

Look out you know, be ready, Bill--just when she takes the sand!

MRS. F.

The sand--O Lord! to stop my mouth! how every thing is plann'd!

BOATMAN.

The handspike, Bill--quick, bear a hand! now Ma'am, just step ashore!

MRS. F.

What! an't I going to be kill'd--and welter'd in my gore?
Well, Heaven be praised! but I'll not go a-sailing any more!