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Updated: June 29, 2025
"I, too, have seen thee on thy surging path When the night-tempest met thee; thou didst dash Thy white arms high in heaven, as if in wrath, Threatening the angry sky; thy waves did lash The labouring vessel, and with deadening crash Rush madly forth to scourge its groaning sides; Onward thy billows came, to meet and clash In a wild warfare, till the lifted tides Mingled their yesty tops, where the dark storm-cloud rides."
Above all the roar of the tempest and the shouts of the crew, was heard the dismal tolling of the ship's bell almost as large as that of a village church which the violent rolling of the ship was occasioning. Imagination cannot conceive the horror of such a sound in a night-tempest at sea. "Stop that ghost!" roared Mad Jack; "away, one of you, and wrench off the clapper!"
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