And the water on the bay was smooth as glass,
So I thought I must be dreaming, or besotted by the light,
When a gaff-rigged ketch came ghosting through the pass.
There was no wind I knew of, but her sails were drawing well,
'Till she came about and set an anchor deep;
I could hear her rigging creaking; I could hear the crewmen yell,
As they furled the sails and put the boat to sleep.
The helmsman tied the tiller, looked around, and climbed the rail,
Then dove without a splash into the bay.