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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE WRECK OF THE STEAMSHIP PUFFIN by THOMAS ANSTEY GUTHERIE

First Line: TELL YOU A STORY, CHILDREN? WELL, GATHER AROUND MY KNEE
Last Line: POND!
Subject(s): DISASTERS; SHIPWRECKS;
TELL you a story, children? Well, gather around my knee,
And I'll see if I cannot thrill you (though you're torpid after your tea),
With a moving tale of a shipwreck; and—should you refrain from sleep,
For the cake was a trifle heavy—I flatter myself you'll weep!

You all know Kensington Gardens, and some of you, I'll be bound,
Have stood by the level margin of the Pond that's circled "Round";
'Tis a pleasant spot on a summer day, when the air is laden with balm,
And the snowy sails are reflected clear in a mirror of flawless calm!

Well, it isn't like that in the winter, when the gardens are shut at four,
And a wind is lashing the water, and driving the ducks ashore.
Ah! the Pond can be black and cruel then, with its waves running inches high,
And a peril lurks for the tautest yacht that pocket-money can buy!

Yet, in weather like this, with a howling blast and a sky of ominous gloom,
Did the good ship @3Puffin@1 put out to sea, as if trying to tempt her doom!
She was a model steamer, on the latest approved design,
And her powerful 10-slug engines were driven by spirits of wine.

And a smarter crew (they were sixpence each!) never shipped on a model bark,
While her Captain, "Nuremberg Noah," had once commanded an ark;
Like a fine old salt of the olden school, he had stuck to his wooden ship,
But lately, he'd been promoted—and this was his trial trip.

Off went the @3Puffin@1 when steam was up, with her crew and commander brave!
And her screw was whizzing behind her as she breasted the foaming wave;
Danger? each sixpenny seaman smiled at the notion of that!
But the face of the skipper looked thoughtful from under his broad-brimmed hat.

Was he thinking of his children three—of Japheth, and Ham, and Shem?
Or his elephants (both with a trunk unglued!), was he sad at the thought of
them?
Or the door at the end of his own old ark—did it give him a passing pain
To reflect that its unreal knocker might never deceive him again?

Nay, children, I cannot answer—he had passed inquiry beyond:
He was far away on the billowy waste of the wild and heaving Pond,
Battling hard with the angry crests of the waves, that were rolling in
And seeking to overwhelm and swamp his staggering vessel of tin!

Suddenly, speed she slackened, and seemed of her task to tire ...
Aye! for the seas she had shipped of late had extinguished her engine fire!
And the park-keeper, watching her, shook his head and in manner unfeeling cried:

"'Twill be nothing short of a miracle now if she makes the opposite side!"

Think of it, children—that tiny ship, tossed in the boiling froth,
Drifting about at the wild caprice of the elements' fitful wrath!
Her screw-propeller was useless now that the flickering flame was out,
And the invalids gazed from their snug bath chairs, till they almost forgot the

gout.

Help for the gallant vessel! she is overborne by the blast'
She is shipping water by spoonfuls now, I tell you she's sinking fast!
"Hi!" cried one of her owners to a spaniel, liver and black,
"Good dog, into the water quick!" ... But the park-keeper held it back!

Yes, spite of indignant pleadings from the eager excited crowd,
He quoted a pedant bye-law: "In the water no dogs allowed."
Then shame on the regulations that would hinder an honest dog
From plunging in to assist a ship that is rolling a helpless log!

Stand by all! for she'll ride it out—though she's left to do it alone.
She was drifting in, she was close at hand—when down she went like a stone!

A few feet more and they had her safo—and now, it was all too late,
For the @3Puffin@1 had foundered in sight of port, by a stroke of ironical Fate!


But the other owner was standing by, and, tossing her tangled locks,
Down she sat on the nearest seat—and took off her shoes and socks!
"One kiss, brother!" she murmured, "one clutch of your strong right hand—
And @3I'll@1 paddle out to the @3Puffin@1, and bring her in safe to land!"

What can a barefooted child do? More than the pampered cur,
With his chicken-fed carcase shrinking, afraid from the bank to stir!
More than a baffled spaniel—aye, and more than the pug dog pet,
That wrinkles his ebony muzzle, and whines if his paws are wet!

"Come back!" the park-keeper shouted—but she merely answered, "I
@3won't!@1"
And into the water she waded—though the invalids whimpered, "Don't!"
Ah! but the Pond struck chilly, and the mud at the bottom was thick;
But in she paddled, and probed it with the point of a borrowed stick!

"Don't let go of me, darling!" "Keep hold of my fingers tight,
And I'll have it out in a minute or two ... I haven't got up to it quite:
A minute more, and the sunken ship we'll safe to the surface bring,
Yes, and the sixpenny sailors, too, that we lashed to the funnel with string!"

Up to the knees in the water, Ethel and brother Ralph
Groped, till they @3found@1 the @3Puffin@1 and her sailors, soppy —but
@3safe!@1
All the dear little sailors! ... but—Children—I can't go on!
For poor old wooden-faced Noah was—@3how@1 shall I tell you? —gone!

He must have fallen over, out of that heeling boat,
Away in the dim grey offing, to rise and to fall like a float,
Till the colour deserted his face and form, as it might at an infant's suck,
And he sank to his rest in his sailor's tomb—the maw of a hungry duck!

You are weeping? I cannot wonder. Mine @3is@1 a pathetic style.
Weep for him, children, freely. ... But, when you have finished, smile
With joy for his shipmates, rescued as though by a Prospero's wand,
And the @3Puffin@1, snatched from the slimy depths of the Round but treacherous

Pond!



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