tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601051679979763215.post4163254723557016792..comments2023-12-21T17:09:10.961-05:00Comments on North Carolina Shipwrecks: Schooner Sarah D.J. Rawson ~ 9 February 1905Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601051679979763215.post-2022017198450997172016-04-15T11:44:30.358-04:002016-04-15T11:44:30.358-04:00About this famous rescue, I have this to say:
“Th...About this famous rescue, I have this to say:<br /><br />“The Rescue of the Sarah D. J. Rawson”<br /><br />T’was a cold and storm-tossed night, her voyage just half way done,<br />A “3-master” bounded toward the Cape, burthened ‘wid-bout 100 ton.<br /><br />The wind was scowling, gales a’howling, the foam was flying fast,<br />Little did the Rawson know, she was bounding for her last.<br /><br />Knees were bended, heads descended, her crewmen huddled tight,<br />Neither star nor compass were her guide, the black sky held no light.<br /><br />Hearts confessing, received no blessing, all hands began to pray,<br />The Rawson beat blindly toward the shoals, and ground up by dawning day.<br /><br />“Bottom rising!” the leadsman cried, “hard a’lee and tack - avast”!<br />Too late! Too late! The keel had struck, the shallows held her fast.<br /><br />Her cargo holds began to flood, the surge would not abate,<br />Despite brave hearts in every man, now destined to meet his fate.<br /><br />The duty bos’n began to pipe all hands to quarter deck,<br />The signal flares were sent aloft to illuminate the wreck.<br /><br />Then from the shore the watchman caught that little spark of light,<br />And realizing what it meant, called his surf men from the night.<br /><br />“Awake! Awake!”, the watchman called, all surf men knew their vow,<br />For nine miles out on that treacherous bar, their duty called them now.<br /><br />Though wracked with flu and with fevers high, they mustered as oft’ before,<br />And hitched the wagon to their mule, and hastened to the shore.<br /><br />“To oars! To oars!” the Keeper cried, “each man unto his place,<br />We’ve work to do and souls to save, and rescue with God’s grace!”<br /><br />All hands aboard, the lifeboat launched into the freezing cold,<br />All oars a’straining to cadence maintaining, all hearts a’beating bold.<br /><br />“Row, boys row!” the Keeper called, “bend backs against the strain,<br />And feather ‘ye blade on its return, a greater speed we’ll gain.”<br /><br />Through breaking seas the life boat lurched, foam sprayed against the dark,<br />With each man’s safety cast aside, they pressed on toward their mark.<br /><br />And finally reaching their chosen spot, at fair heading against the wave,<br />They set their hook, the line came taught, they began their work to save.<br /><br />The Rawson crew had suffered long, their hopes were almost spent,<br />When like a savior to them all, the heaving line was sent.<br /><br />The line paid out in perfect arc across that raging sea, <br />And landed thence on Rawson’s deck - Yes, ‘twas a savior sent to thee!<br /><br />With block and tackle working hard, and the hawser its appointed deed,<br />Thence with God’s help, one by one, the crewmen thus were freed.<br /><br />All souls, but one, aboard that night were rescued from that sea, <br />The hand of God had worked His will, through the surf men who set them free.<br /><br />Old seamen still talk about that night, when the Rawson struck the bar,<br />And the bravery of the surf men there, their motto their polar star.<br /><br />Yes, that motto blazed bright in every breast, no fear did they ‘ere discern,<br /><br />That sacred oath:<br /><br />“To always go, but not always to return”! <br /><br /><br /> <br />Copyright © 2012 by James W. Thompson. All rights reserved.<br /><br /><br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com