Capitolo 13
That frame of strong oak
It would sink under of the blue waves of the lake,
Done blacken with fire and smoke?
A sailor looked for the side of the captain,
A moment talked to low voice least;
Does her brown of the captain it grew pale;
He expedited under of.
Alas, too late! Although rapid, and acute,
His/her orders it is clear they came,
Anybody human efforts could benefit
To extinguish the insidious flame.
The bad news quickly reached the bridge,
It lip sped lip,
It is everywhere horrible Faces
Bewared of the ship condemned.
"Is not there hope--any opportunity of the life?"
One hundred lips implore,
"But one", the captain did you/he/she replies,
"To race the ship on beach."
A sailor which heroic soul
That time should still reveal,
From name John Maynard, oriental-been born,
State of forehead calmly to the wheel.
"Southeast leads her!" the captain shouts,
Above of the smothered roar,--
"Southeast leads her without delay!
Constitute the nearest beach!"
Any terror turns pale the cheek of the helmsman,
Or clouds his/her fearless eye,
As, in the measured tone of a sailor,
Its voice responds, "Ay! ay!"
Three hundred souls, the hire of the steamboat,
You crowd in before wild with fear,
While to the stern the flames of dreaded
Above some bridge couples.
John Maynard looked at the flames that approach to,
But he/she anchors with you consolidate hand
He understood the wheel, and constantly
He governed the ship to disembark.
"Can John Maynard, contain out still?"
He felt the captain cry;
A voice from out the suffocating smoke
Weakly answers, "Ay! ay!"
But half a mile! one hundred hands
Eagerly extends to sustains.
But half a mile! That speds of the distance
Danger is able all both o'er.
But half a mile! He/she anchors coop the flames,
More slowly the creeping,
But it gathers round that boldfaced of helmsman,
With sweep fair, impetuous.
"John Maynard!" with an anxious voice
The captain once more he/she cries,
"Is still near to the wheel five minutes,
And we will arrive to the beach."