Punch (61.1871)

220

[November 25, 1871.

TICHBORNE V. MUDIE'S !

A BAD LOOK-OUT FOE THE CIRCULATING LIBRARIES.

MARK LEMON.

A public appeal is being made in aid of the widow and unmarried
daughters of the lamented friend who so long and so admirably
directed this periodical, and whose unexpected death left those
ladies in "straitened circumstances." It is impossible for those
who, under the wise and gentle guidance of Mark Lemon, assisted
him for years in the production of Punch, to abstain from
expressing their deep gratification at the warm and generous
tributes which the announcement has called forth to the character
and to the labours of their lost friend. All that has been so
kindly said in his honour they gratefully confirm, and they
deeply regret that they have also to confirm the assurance that
there is urgent necessity for such an appeal.

A DIVE OF DISCOVERY.

When aboard the Megcera blue Neptune rushed in,

O'ertaxing the donkeys,* o'erpowering the pumps,
While the patched-up old storeship's sore oxydised skin

Was coming away from her girders in lumps,
Gallant Thrupp, when each dodge and device he had tried,

With patch, plate, and screw rotten stuff to make sound,
Had a well-equipped diver slung over the side,

To examine her hull, and report what he found.

Under water a nice state of things met his eye,

Though the trim-kept old barkey showed ship-shape above ;

Near the hole, pits in patches ; the ship's skin hard by
So weak that his knife through the plates he could shove.

And besides the main leak, whence the scarf-skin had dropped,
A hopeful provision of leaks soon to be,

* Subordinate engines, -which do most of the hard and dirty work aboard
ship, as on shore—commonly called l; donkeys " for their pains.

Till the question was less if one hole could be stopped,
Than it' she'd not soon be all holes for the sea.

Thrupp heard the report: never pulled a wry face :

Took the facts, weighed them fairly, then made up his mind:
Called his blue jackets aft, laid before them the case,

Steered a course for St. Paul's, and defied wave and wind!
With leak and with gale—miles a thousand he strove,

Till—when anchors and cables and pluck could no more,
And into Death's jaws a sheer hulk the ship drove,—

He got full steam on her, and drove her ashore.

The last man on the wreck, off the island the last:

Not a hardship or toil, but he took lion's share ;
The only distinction 'twixt aft and fore mast,

Was, the higher the station, the heavier the care.
So he cheered and commanded and worked with his crew,

And his officers followed their noble " old man;"
And one heart, high and low, welded all tight and true,

Till to well-deserved rescue their long trial ran.

And now gallant Thrupp the grim farce has gone through

Of surrend'ring his sword and receiving it back;
Has stood pris'ner, court-martialled for saving his crew,

With all England his witness, if witness he lack.
But might not John Bull from this case take a hint,

With a certain expensive old hulk in Whitehall,
Whose bottom some very bad plates must have in't,

It so leaks, and no patching can mend it at all ?

What if, this time, for once not content with the patch",

That we always screw on, but to prove a new sell,
We sent down a diver—the best we can catch—

To examine her hull, under water as well.
Rotten plate, missing bolt—work of time, fool or knave—

To find out—while the ship is in dock not at sea—
So our future Megceras and Monarchs to save,

And Britannia make strong, as she looks and should be.