Water flowing in the hanging flume, early summer 1891.
Walking bridge across the Dolores River made from salvaged materials from the hanging flume.
Wooden trestle flume on a side canyon with man pointing on top.
Rob Carrigan, former publisher Pikes Peak Courier View, Tri-Lakes Tribune, Teller County Extra, Cripple Creek Gold Rush robcarrigan1@gmail.com
IT was the schooner Hesperus, | |
That sailed the wintry sea; | |
And the skipper had taken his little daughter, | |
To bear him company. | |
Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, | 5 |
Her cheeks like the dawn of day, | |
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, | |
That ope in the month of May. | |
The skipper he stood beside the helm, | |
His pipe was in his mouth, | 10 |
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow | |
The smoke now West, now South. | |
Then up and spake an old Sailòr, | |
Had sailed to the Spanish Main, | |
‘I pray thee, put into yonder port, | 15 |
For I fear a hurricane. | |
‘Last night, the moon had a golden ring, | |
And to-night no moon we see!’ | |
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, | |
And a scornful laugh laughed he. | 20 |
Colder and louder blew the wind, | |
A gale from the Northeast, | |
The snow fell hissing in the brine, | |
And the billows frothed like yeast. | |
Down came the storm, and smote amain | 25 |
The vessel in its strength; | |
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, | |
Then leaped her cable’s length. | |
‘Come hither! come hither! my little daughtèr, | |
And do not tremble so; | 30 |
For I can weather the roughest gale | |
That ever wind did blow.’ | |
He wrapped her warm in his seaman’s coat | |
Against the stinging blast; | |
He cut a rope from a broken spar, | 35 |
And bound her to the mast. | |
‘O father! I hear the church-bells ring, | |
Oh say, what may it be?’ | |
‘’Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!’— | |
And he steered for the open sea. | 40 |
‘O father! I hear the sound of guns, | |
Oh say, what may it be?’ | |
‘Some ship in distress, that cannot live | |
In such an angry sea!’ | |
‘O father. I see a gleaming light, | 45 |
Oh say, what may it be?’ | |
But the father answered never a word, | |
A frozen corpse was he. | |
Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, | |
With his face turned to the skies, | 50 |
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow | |
On his fixed and glassy eyes. | |
Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed | |
That savèd she might be; | |
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave, | 55 |
On the Lake of Galilee. | |
And fast through the midnight dark and drear, | |
Through the whistling sleet and snow, | |
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept | |
Tow’rds the reef of Norman’s Woe. | 60 |
And ever the fitful gusts between | |
A sound came from the land; | |
It was the sound of the trampling surf | |
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. | |
The breakers were right beneath her bows, | 65 |
She drifted a dreary wreck, | |
And a whooping billow swept the crew | |
Like icicles from her deck. | |
She struck where the white and fleecy waves | |
Looked soft as carded wool, | 70 |
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side | |
Like the horns of an angry bull. | |
Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, | |
With the masts went by the board; | |
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, | 75 |
Ho! ho! the breakers roared! | |
At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, | |
A fisherman stood aghast, | |
To see the form of a maiden fair, | |
Lashed close to a drifting mast. | 80 |
The salt sea was frozen on her breast, | |
The salt tears in her eyes; | |
And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed, | |
On the billows fall and rise. | |
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, | 85 |
In the midnight and the snow! | |
Christ save us all from a death like this, | |
On the reef of Norman’s Woe! | |
___ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882) |