Alec Yeaton's Son

The Sisters' Tragedy

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

GLOUCESTER, AUGUST, 1720

The wind it wailed, the wind it moaned,
     
And the white caps flecked the sea;
"An' I would to God," the
skipper groaned,
      "I had not my boy with
me!"

Snug in the stern-sheets, little John
     
Laughed as the scud swept by;
But the skipper's sunburnt cheek
grew wan
      As he watched the wicked sky.

"Would he were at his mother's side!"
     
And the skipper's eyes were dim.
"Good Lord in heaven, if ill
betide,
      What would become of him!

"For me--my muscles are as steel,
      For
me let hap what may;
I might make shift upon the keel
 
    Until the break o' day.

"But he, he is so weak and small,
      So
young, scarce learned to stand--
O pitying Father of us all,

      I trust him in Thy hand!

"For Thou, who markest from on high
      A
sparrow's fall--each one!--
Surely, O Lord, thou'lt have an
eye
      On Alec Yeaton's son!"

Then, helm hard-port; right straight he sailed
   
  Towards the headland light:
The wind it moaned, the wind
it wailed,
      And black, black fell the
night.

Then burst a storm to make one quail
     
Though housed from winds and waves--
They who could tell about
that gale
      Must rise from watery graves!

Sudden it came, as sudden went;
      Ere
half the night was sped,
The winds were hushed, the waves were
spent,
      And the stars shone overhead.

Now, as the morning mist grew thin,
      The
folk on Gloucester shore
Saw a little figure floating in

      Secure, on a broken oar!

Up rose the cry, "A wreck! a wreck!
     
Pull, mates, and waste no breath!"--
They knew it, though 'twas
but a speck
      Upon the edge of death!

Long did they marvel in the town
      At God
his strange decree,
That let the stalwart skipper drown

      And the little child go free!