  W HEN fleets of yachts were sailing round The rippling bay and ruffled sound, And steering out where Neptune raves, To try their speed in rougher waves, The Brownies from a lofty place Looked out upon the novel race. Said one: "A race is under way. They'll start from somewhere in the bay, To leave the frowning forts behind, And Jersey headlands, as you'll find, And sail around, as I surmise, The light-ship that at anchor lies. All sails are spread, the masts will bend, For some rich prize they now contend— A golden cup or goblet fine, Or punch-bowl of antique design." Another said: "To-night, when all Have left the boats, we'll make a call, And boldly sail a yacht or two Around that ship, as people do. If I can read the signs aright That nature shows 'twill be a night When sails will stretch before the blast, And not hang idly round the mast." So thus they talked, and plans they laid, And waited for the evening shade. And when the lamps in city square And narrow street began to glare, The Brownies ventured from their place To find the yachts and sail their race. In equal numbers now the band, Divided up, the vessels manned. Short time they wasted in debate Who should be captain, cook, or mate; But it was settled at the start That all would take an active part, And be prepared to pull and haul If trouble came in shape of squall. For in the cunning Brownie crowd No domineering is allowed; All stand alike with equal power, And friendly feeling rules the hour. The Brownies' prophecy was true. That night the wind increased and blew, And dipped the sails into the wave, And work to every Brownie gave; Not one on board but had to clew, Or reef, or steer, or something do. Sometimes the yachts ran side by side A mile or more, then parted wide, Still tacking round and shifting sail To take advantage of the gale. Sometimes a sloop beyond control At random ran, or punched a hole Clean through her scudding rival's jibs, Or thumped her soundly on the ribs. Of Brownies there were two or three Who tumbled headlong in the sea, While they performed some action bold, And failed to keep a proper hold. At first it seemed they would be lost; For here and there they pitched and tossed, Now on the crests of billows white, Now in the trough, clear out of sight, But all the while with valiant heart Performing miracles of art. Some life-preservers soon were thrown; And ready hands let sails alone, And turned to render aid with speed To those who stood so much in need. But accident could not displace Or weaken interest in the race; And soon each active Brownie stood Where he could do the greatest good; It mattered not if shifting sail, Or at the helm, or on the rail. With arm to arm and hip to hip, They lay in rows to trim the ship. All hands were anxious to succeed And prove their yachts had greatest speed. But though we sail, or though we ride, Or though we sleep, the moments glide; And none must bear this fact in mind More constantly than Brownie kind. For stars began to lose their glow While Brownies still had miles to go. Said one, who scanned the eastern sky With doubtless an experienced eye: "We'll crowd all sail, for fear the day Will find us still upon the bay— Since it would prove a sad affair If morning light should find us there." But when the winds began to fail And lightly pressed the flapping sail, It was determined by the band To run their yachts to nearest land, So they could reach their hiding-place Before the sun revealed his face. By happy chance a cove they reached Where high and dry the boats were beached, And all in safety made their way To secret haunts without delay. |
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