But the sweetest way to me is a ship’s upon the sea …
Unlike the ‘Sestina’ and ‘Chant-Pagan’ where the traveler is solitary, here he is traveling with his beloved. It gives this poem a completely different color. Kipling wrote it when already engaged. The freshness of the feeling, the vividness of the sea-imagery in this poem convey the happiness he was anticipating, as anyone would when going with one’s beloved on a voyage of discovery to the ends of the earth.
Yet, even when traveling to a place that is known, and even if it has not changed, it may still feel new – just the fact that you have not been there for a while can turn a familiar place into a new revelation. Kipling captured this paradox in the refrain, which keeps evoking “the old trail … – the trail that is always new!”
The scene of the poem shifts like a ship’s position: the first verse describes leaving England, the second travels across the Americas, the third heads “from Cadiz south”, the fourth sails “in the heel of the North-East Trade”, and so on “twenty thousand mile to our little lazy isle / where the trumpet-orchids blow”. But the attraction is not really what you find in that South Sea paradise – it is the exhilaration of getting there, as “the engines stamp and ring, and the wet bows reel and swing…”
The Long Trail
There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand grey to the sun, Singing: "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover, And your English summer's done." You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind, And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; You have heard the song - how long? how long? Pull out on the trail again! Ha' done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass (1) We've seen the seasons through, And it's time to turn on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new! It's North you may run to the rime-ringed sun Or South to the blind Horn's hate; Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay, Or West to the Golden Gate - Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass, And the wildest tales are true, And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, And life runs large on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new. The days are sick and cold, and the skies are grey and old, And the twice-breathed airs blow damp; And I'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll (2) Of a black Bilbao tramp,(3) With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass,(4) And a drunken Dago crew, And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail From Cadiz south on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new. There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake, Or the way of a man with a maid;(5) But the sweetest way to me is a ship's upon the sea In the heel of the North-East Trade.(6) Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass, And the drum of the racing screw, As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new? See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore, (7) And the fenders grind and heave, (8) And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate, And the fall-rope whines through the sheave; (9) It's "Gang-plank up and in," dear lass, It's "Hawsers warp her through!" (10) And it's "All clear aft" on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail (11) We're backing down on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new. O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied,(12) And the sirens hoot their dread, When foot by foot we creep o'er the hueless, viewless deep To the sob of the questing lead! It's down by the Lower Hope, dear lass, (13) With the Gunfleet Sands in view, Till the Mouse swings green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, And the Gull Light lifts on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new. O the blazing tropic night, when the wake's a welt of light That holds the hot sky tame, (14) And the steady fore-foot snores through the planet-powdered floors (15) Where the scared whale flukes in flame! (16) Her plates are flaked by the sun, dear lass, And her ropes are taut with the dew, For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, We're sagging south on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new. Then home, get her home, where the drunken rollers comb, (17) And the shouting seas drive by, And the engines stamp and ring, and the wet bows reel and swing, And the Southern Cross rides high! Yes, the old lost stars wheel back, dear lass, That blaze in the velvet blue. They're all old friends on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, They're God's own guides on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new. Fly forward, O my heart, from the Foreland to the Start - (18) we're steaming all too slow, And it's twenty thousand mile to our little lazy isle Where the trumpet-orchids blow! You have heard the call of the off-shore wind And the voice of the deep-sea rain; You have heard the song - how long? - how long? Pull out on the trail again! The Lord knows what we may find, dear lass, And The Deuce knows what we may do - But we're back once more on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, We're down, hull-down, on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new! (19)
Notes
[1] A reference to Genesis 9:27, where Noah blessed his two elder sons: “May God enlarge Japheth, and let him dwell in the tents of Shem” – thus the “tents of Shem” came to signify comfort and luxury.
[2] ‘Beam-sea’ – A wave rolling against the ship’s side.
[3] Bilbao is on the northern Atlantic coast of Spain and Cadiz (in the last line of the verse) is on Spain’s southern Atlantic coast; thus this verse leaves Europe behind for the South Seas.
[4] ‘With her load-line over the hatch’ – So dangerously overloaded that her deck is under water.
[5] A reference to Solomon’s Proverbs 30:18-19: “Three things are too wondrous for me, and four are beyond my comprehension: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent over a rock, the way of a ship upon the sea, and the way of a man with a maid.”
[6] Following at the heels of the North-East Trade Wind (which moves, like the narrator of the poem, from Europe to the New World).
[7] The Blue Peter is a blue flag with a white square in the center, hoisted as signal of immediate sailing. The whole verse describes the preparations for departure: loading the cargo and pulling the ship away from the quay.
[8] ‘Fenders’ – The shock-absorbers hung between ship-side and quay.
[9] A fall- rope goes through a pulley. Sheave’ – Pulley-wheel.
[10] ‘Hawsers warp her through’ – Move the ship by pulling on warps (ropes) tied to the quay.
[11] ‘All clear aft’ – No more lines behind hold the ship to the quay – when the head rope is cast off too, the ship can depart.
[12] While the ship is stopped outside the port because of thick fog, the tide runs past her with a rippling, muttering sound.
[13] The Lower Hope, Gunfleet Sands, Mouse Light and Gull Light were four light-ships (lighthouses mounted on boats) anchored at the exit from the Thames estuary for guiding ships into the English Channel. Kipling had detailed knowledge of the sea and sailing. He knew, for example, that deeply laden ships outward bound from the Thames estuary (the “London River”) had to keep along the northern shore, thus avoiding the dangerous shoals near the southern shore. Once the Gunfleet Sands (an extension of the north shore) were “in view”, a ship could safely turn south around the Foreland and enter the English Channel.
[14] While the preceding stanza tells of lights in the English Channel, this one is about the night-light of the tropical seas: the ship’s propeller turns up such a phosphorescent wake that the Milky Way looks ‘tame’ in comparison.
[15] ‘And the steady fore-foot snores’ – The forward tip of the keel makes a snoring sound as it moves up and down through the sea, which is so floor-smooth that the stars are reflected in it.
[16] The scared whale beats its tail.
[17] Evidently “home” is the South Sea island of the next verse.
[18] The Foreland is the south-eastern tip of Britain; when ships sail south around it they enter the English Channel. At Start Point ships leave the English Channel for the Atlantic (here – on the way to the South Seas). Thus “from the Foreland to the Start” is the whole length of the English Channel. It was customary for ship’s masters heading westward into the Atlantic to “take their departure” (start the log of the voyage) at Start Point.
[19] ‘Hull-down’ – So far away that the ship’s hull is below the horizon.