Hearken my good brethren, I beseech thee now to hear my tale.
Give heed to me and you shall hear a wonder, though your hearts may quail!
Of mighty deeds and shattered seas I sing for his’try’s sake,
For all must know the tale of brave and noble Fintan Drake.
‘Twas year of eighteen twenty-three when sailed the Wolfe for distant lands.
To brave the fierce Atlantic, she set out with crew of 30 hands.
She bore within, ‘twixt fear and hope, a throng from Ireland’s emerald knolls,
And so with every man aboard she sailed with some two-hundred souls.
Not a man aboard her knew the danger they would soon espy,
for though they sailed in early winter, not a cloud did darken sky.
And though the Captain feared to cast off late, a risk he surely knew,
Faith had he to face the seas with dauntless heart and hardy crew.
But though the man had sailed ten thousand leagues and heard the tempest’s roar,
defied a thousand dangers as he voyaged bravely shore to shore,
a great new tribulation now did threaten all his strength to break:
the grizzled Captain Carter never faced the likes of Fintan Drake.
A lad of naught but sixteen years and weighing scarcely seven stone,
incapable of leaving any sailing man at work alone,
insufferably a nuisance, he did question every man in sight,
to learn the ways of sailing men he harried them from day to night.
With queries he did bury every willing sailor league by league,
from galley to the quarterdeck, until the crew were all fatigued,
and though the Captain’s orders were to teach him when one had a mind,
amongst the crew ‘twas felt that they increasingly were disinclined.
But crew and captain softened to the lad as they did make their course,
No kin of any kind had he aboard the ship, from home divorced,
and for all the trouble he did bring to sailors sorely pressed,
swift he learned and labored hard, to this the men did all attest.
But though the growing joy to teach the lad did cheer most any man,
there came before them darkened skies, to counter hope so far from land.
And soon the captain’s gamble which at first did seem to modest be,
began to seem a foolish chance as winter slowly took the seas.
Daily rose the wind to drive the chill from deck to deepest hold,
and soon the stoutest heart aboard did grieve the sharp’ning of the cold,
and ever more the waves did roughly heave the Wolfe upon the deep,
and ev’ry heart was grim and grave as dismal skies began to weep.
E’re long the weeping waxed into the storm the Captain long had feared,
And shattered hopes of harbors unto which he had so deftly steered,
More fearful still were evil tidings that the Watch had sighted thrice,
for out upon the howling seas were spotted pond’rous bergs of ice.
Soon the frigid rain no longer fell alone, but mixed with snow,
And every man who could be spared had reefed the sales and gone below,
And as the lonely skipper bravely stood at helm to guide their way,
The Captain trembled there and saw his deck awash in freezing spray.
With every hour and wave the ocean froze where purchase could be found,
On mast and spar and scupper was an icy noose so deftly wound,
And soon the Wolfe fell deeper into every surge that beat her prow;
and labored hard to rise beneath weight of ice which drove her down.
From stem to stern the mighty Wolfe did wear a gown of deadly white,
with cruel spears of ice above revealed by every flash of light,
and not a sailing man could stand the whirling of the tempest’s might,
as Captain Carter lashed the wheel, and dashed below, in gravest fright.
There as he did shiver he heard cries of folk in great despair,
And filled with pain he searched his mind for any way they might be spared,
And as the ship did groan beneath the weight of wave and wind and ice,
The Captain drew up all his strength for what he hoped might just suffice.
“Quiet!” he roared, to quell the mass, and looked about to men at hand.
Fierce was he, they all could see though he had barely strength to stand.
“Bring me every man who does not fear to lose his life this day.”
And met with only downcast eyes he tried again, though sore dismayed.
“The ice upon the ship is bearing down, and we ride lower still,
the scuppers cannot drain the sea, with every wave she fills and fills.
The only hope we have is to relieve the Wolfe of ice and freight,
so gird yourselves and come with me, for even now we’re not too late!”
A cool and deadly silence took the men, who staggered on their feet,
who shifted side to side and wrung their hands but stood in dumb defeat.
Met with silence, cried the Captain “What? Have you not heard our straits?”
Then mumbling scarcely o’re the din, stepped for’d the humble boatswains mate.
“Sir, if we do go above there’s dozen ways we’ll surely die,
struck by ice, or swept away, or chilled to bone; we would comply,
but down here we still got a chance, we may not have to pay the price,
so if you will forgive us sir, we choose stay and roll the dice.”
Gravely glared the captain, though he could not hate the sorry lot,
he knew they were but mortal men in peril and confusion caught,
but as he pondered whether he would join them in their dreadful choice,
there rang out clear throughout the ship, above the storm, a sure, strong voice.
Every eye did turn and search to see from whence the call had come,
Until at last ‘twas seen a lanky youth who pushed past men benumbed,
And stood before the Captain as the Wolfe did pitch and roll and quake,
And there before them all did raise his voice, the lad, young Fintan Drake:
“Death comes soon for every man aboard this ship or safe at home,
and I with mine would buy another hour for those who stay below.
What profits Man if he stretch out his life another wretched day,
if he before the face of God his friends and courage must betray?”
Thus smote he a blow upon the heart of every man who heard,
who marveled at this boy who stood upright, whose eyes with fire burned,
and to his side did come three men who trembled there yet took their stand,
no other men but these came forth to join the youthful firebrand.
Jim Cooper, boatswains mate, who nobly changed his mind in front of all,
Tom Blackmoor, humble cook, who simply needed thrice to hear the call,
And limping old John Halligan, who feared to see the boy be harmed,
Swiftly did they dash away to see themselves with tools armed.
As Captain Carter staggered there he turned his eye upon the lad,
“Thank you son; though we be lost, for what you’ve done my heart is glad.
But I must tell you now I do not think we few will be enough,
The ice is thick upon the deck and every mast and spar above.”
“Sir if all our labors buy the Wolfe a single hour more,
then I will count it worth the cost, though I be lost so far from shore,
And as for whether we have here enough to see the work be done:
I shall do the work of three; for you have here a blacksmith’s son.”
Staring there the Captain marveled at this young and haughty lad,
who bore within his slender frame a courage fierce and armor-clad,
who did not fear the grave because his soul would not therein be damned,
who waited tranquilly until the three returned with tools at hand.
Together at the hatch the Captain quickly gave their desperate tack,
first to clear the scuppers, then to set about the ship and hack
to shear the Wolfe of any ice that might be swiftly shorn away,
to free the deck of guns and goods and all that down upon her weighed.
With a muttered prayer the eager lad prepared to heave the door,
but trembled there upon the stairs a moment ‘for the tempest’s roar,
then turning back he looked upon his friends and drew a breath within,
and to the wonderment of all, the wiry youth began to grin.
Boldly did he hurl the door aside and in the hatchway stand,
a silhouette by lightning, with a heavy hammer in each hand,
then strode away into the storm with no more trace of earthly fear,
as from behind his speechless friends did through the hatch in wonder peer.
His fearsome way that evil day would hallowed legend soon become,
for as they joined him on the deck they saw a fearsome work begun,
and though they knew the lad to be of stoutest heart and hearty frame,
none who saw him wield a hammer then would see him e’re the same.
He started at the scuppers drawing deep upon his strength entire,
though lit by naught but flashing skies, and burning of St. Elmo’s fire,
and smote upon the ice in dreadful wrath where’er it could be found,
from anvil unto anvil he did dance and strike and leap and pound.
With a mighty shout the grizzled sailors joined the blacksmith’s son,
and set about the ship as men who knew their time had nearly come,
and hurled the ice they could o’er board and broke their deck-bound cargo free,
to buy the Wolfe another hour upon the thrashing, howling sea.
Though the doughty men acquitted well themselves with mighty deeds,
‘twas seen they could not match the waves that sought their very bones to freeze
Yet still they strove with all their power to see the winter noose unwound,
as ‘neath their feet they heard the Wolfe let out a fearful groaning sound.
At this the five redoubled what must surely now or ne’er be done,
and Fintan in a fury strode to port, to one of three brass guns,
and smote upon the lashings as the ship did roll toward the sea,
then bellowed like a dragon grim, and hove the whole four-pounder free.
The first, and then another, did the lad in holy anger heave,
but falling down upon the third the gasping youth could scarcely cleave,
for though he surely bore a burning heart alight with heaven’s flame,
his noble soul clung weakly to his poor, exhausted, mortal frame.
This the timid men who watched within the hatch could not abide,
and bursting forth upon the deck, full thirty men rushed to his side,
and having found their courage, set about the deck with all their might,
as weeping old John Halligan dragged Fintan from the desperate fight.
Lying there upon the deck, with ice and lightning falling ‘round,
the fading Fintan closed his eyes and smiled as he heard the sound,
of nearly two-score men in fierce array to see the Wolfe be saved,
And feeling she rode higher and higher, at last his soul did rise away.
The cry of Old John Halligan could o’er the awful din be heard,
and e’en the hardest hearted man could not but find his heart bestirred,
thus as the deck and savage skies at last began to slowly clear,
the sailing men did mix the falling rain with many angry tears.
And though the tempest lessened, within our breasts another raged,
a storm of mournful passion, ‘twixt joy and grief a battle waged,
for though we felt salvation lit upon our ship that awful day,
every man did feel the price had almost been too much to pay.
For as we passed beneath the storm unto a clear and starry night,
‘twas felt that we had lost in him a true and brighter burning light,
a humble boy with pow’r to scorn the grave and kindle hope in men,
who cared not that his life be saved but gave away all he could give.
Limping on to Boston thus our ship did make its creeping way,
but ‘ere we moored there safely, a new world upon our hearts did weigh,
in grateful admiration did both saint and sinner jointly vow,
to speak of Fintan often, and to seek the God to whom he bowed.
So here I stand before thee now as many have already guessed,
The lowly Captain Carter, though unworthy, with this honor blessed,
to raise a glass and tell thee of a boy more noble than a king,
who showed if Man but fears the Lord, then he need not fear anything.
For this I learn-ed from the lad, though he were only few in years,
that all must sail unto that final harbor through the veil of tears,
but though a man hath not a chance to choose a road to ‘scape the grave,
the Lord will give him strength to sail with charity and doings brave.
Oh you to whom adversity is poised to deal the final blow,
remember death is soon for ev’ry man aboard your ship or no,
and if ye be at peace with God then though your heart may reel and quake,
ye too may choose to give your all and face the storm like Fintan Drake.
Soli Deo Gloria.