The Lady of the Pool (continued)
Or him from Aleppo comea
the master o’ the Mary.
Wot a tiger!b His beard full of gale.
Overdue a nine month, writ-off for lost bottomryc by the brokers long since, loanees and loaners as much in charity as a Tib and a Towser . . .
but not a loss
and fetching it, though by hollow seas tossed and laboured of hard blows from every point of the card.
one morning, very early, on the second day of the week at the rising, the dawn began but whiles it were yet but darkish—they would ’a’ said the mattins, but as yet, no mass-bell—on a quadragesimal quarter-day and a rent-Monday too and washing-day, the wind like a scornpion and straight from Novgorod—a good drier!
But: the young sun
is in the fecund Ram, Gabriel already has said Ave! and stark wood lissoms.1
Coming up on a spring tide
with her Rotherhithe mate and her Limehouse skipperd and a Sittingbourne bred pilot in her conning-house
his flag in the blow
in the morning.
Her main top-mast by the board, a stick of a jurye for foremast, her mizzen-mast rakedf more nor natural and cantedg somewhat athwartships,h sprung,i woolded,j but entire.
Her yards and spritsk
and all her spars, all woolded; what you could see of her clewed-upl main course were patched as a Welshman’s quilt.