A ship lay motionless,
Not anchored, nor becalmed, but held in spell
Of some great shock. She listed heavily
As though a hidden wound had gripped her loins,
And in the rain and chill were lowered boats,
So filled they lacked the margin of an inch
To meet the water's edge. A law well known
To men who live upon the sea here ran
Its old and honored course. The boats were few
And small, and there was left upon the deck
A sturdier throng who stretched out willing hands
To save the weak. One boat hung yet suspended,
Filled short of obvious risk, and a slim girl
Stepped out, and gave an aged woman, left
Unnoticed in the crowd, her place. Her lips
Were closed, and her face pale, but yet a smile
Made soft and sweet the pallor of her cheeks.
Then out into the night the boat was rowed,
Steadily and silently. No clamour broke
The stillness on the deck, nor was there sound
Of any voiced farewell, but here and there
A hand was raised, and a white fluttering
Answered the distant rhythm of the oars.