Читать книгу H.M.S. ---- - John Bowers QC - Страница 10

When the galleys of Phœnicia, through the gates of Hercules,

Steered South and West along the coast to seek the Tropic Seas,

When they rounded Cape Agulhas, putting out from Table Bay,

They started trading North again, as steamers do to-day.

They dealt in gold and ivory and ostrich feathers too,

With a little private trading by the officers and crew,

Till rounding Guardafui, steering up for Aden town,

The tall Phœnician Captain called the First Lieutenant down.

"By all the Tyrian purple robes that you will never wear,

By the Temples of Zimbabwe, by King Solomon I swear,

The ship is like a stable, like a Carthaginian sty.

I am Captain here – confound you! – or I'll know the reason why.

Every sailor in the galley has a monkey or a goat;

There are parrots in the eyes of her and serpents in the boat.

By the roaring fire of Baal, I'll not have it any more:

Heave them over by the sunset, or I'll hang you at the fore!"

"What is that, sir? Not as cargo? Not a bit of private trade?

Well, of all the dumbest idiots you're the dumbest ever made,

Standing there and looking silly: leave the animals alone."

(Sailors with a tropic liver always have a brutal tone.)

"By the crescent of Astarte, I am not religious – yet —

I would sooner spill the table salt than kill a sailor's pet."