The fog made a sudden lift,
And from the high poop, looking through the rift,
He saw
Twenty canoes, each with six warriors,
Paddling straight toward the rising sun,
Where the wind made a flaw--
He swore he saw
And counted twenty hulls,
Circled about by screaming gulls--
Then such a storm came down
That some prayed on that hellion ship,
But he did not--
He was not born to drown.

This was the tale
Told with much bluster,
Over ale
And oaths,
At Charles Town.
He _swore_ he saw the Indians in the dawn,
And _he'd be danged!_
_And by Christ's Mother--_
_Take his rings in pawn!_
But he was hanged
With poor Stede Bonnet, later on.

H.A.

[3] See the note at the back of the book.