Ho, THERE;: fisherman, hold your hand! Tell me what is that far away - There, where over the Isle of Sand Hangs the mist-cloud sullen and gray? See! it rocks with a ghastly life,

Raising and rolling through clouds of spray, Right in the midst of the breakers' strife - Tell me, what is it, fisherman, pray?

"That, good sir, was a steamer, stout

As ever paddled around Cape Race, And many's the wild and stormy bout

She had with the wind in that self-same place; But her time had come; and at ten o'clock

Last night she struck on that lonesome shore, And her sides were gnawed by the hidden rock,

And at dawn this morning she was no more."

"Come, as you seem to know, good man,

The terrible fate of this gallant ship, Tell me all about her that you can, -

And here's my flask to moisten your lip. Tell me how many she had on board -

Wives and husbands, and lovers true - How did it fare with her human hoard.

Lost she many, or lost she few?"

"Master, I may not drink of your flask,

Already too moist I feel my lip; But I'm ready to do what else yon ask,

And spin you my yarn about the ship: 'Twas ten o'clock, as I said, last night,

When she struck the breakers and went ashore, And scarce had broken the morning's light,

Than she sank in twelve feet of water, or more.

"But long ere this they knew their doom,

And the captain called all hands to prayer; And solemnly over the ocean's boom

The orisons rose on the troubled air: And round about the vessel there rose

Tall plumes of spray as white as snow, Like angels in their ascension clothes,

Waiting for those who prayed below.

"So those three hundred people clung,

As well as they could, to spar and rope; With a word of prayer upon every tongue, Nor on any face a glimmer of hope.

But there was no blubbering weak and wild:

Of tearful faces I saw but one, A rough old salt, who cried like a child,

And not for himself, but the Captain's son.

"The Captain stood on the quarter-deck,

Firm but pale, with trumpet in hand, Sometimes he looked on the breaking wreck,

Sometimes he sadly looked on land. And often he smiled to cheer the crew -

But, Lord! the smile was terrible grim - Till over the quarter a huge sea flew,

And that was the last they saw of him.

" I saw one young fellow, with his bride.

Standing amidship upon the wreck; His face was white as the boiling tide,

And she was clinging about his neck. And I saw them try to say good-bye,

But neither could hear the other speak; So they floated away through the sea to die -

Shoulder to shoulder, and cheek to cheek.

" And there was a child, but eight at best,

Who went his way in a sea we shipped, All the while holding upon his breast

A little pet parrot, whose wings were clipped. And as the boy and the bird went by,

Swinging away on a tall wave's crest, They were grappled by a man with a drowning cry,

And together the three went down to rest.

"And so the crew went one by one,

Some with gladness, and few with fear; Cold and hardship such work had done,

That few seemed frightened when death was near. Thus every soul on board went down -

Sailor and passenger, little and great: The last that sunk was a man of my town,

A capital swimmer - the second mate."

"Now, lonely fisherman, who are you, That say you saw this terrible wreck?

How do I know what you say is true. When every mortal was swept from the deck?

Where were you in that hour of death? How do you know what you relate? "

His answer came in an underbreath -

"Master, I was the second mate ! "