Out of the mist into the mirk
    The glimmering combers roll.
Almost these mindless waters work
    As though they had a soul—
Almost as though they leagued to whelm
    Our flag beneath their green:
Then welcome Fate’s discourtesy
    Whereby it shall be seen, etc.

Be well assured, though wave and wind
    Have mightier blows in store,
That we who keep the watch assigned
    Must stand to it the more;
And as our streaming bows rebuke
    Each billow’s baulked career,
Sing, welcome Fate’s discourtesy
    Whereby it is made clear, etc.

No matter though our decks be swept
    And mast and timber crack—
We can make good all loss except
    The loss of turning back.
So, ’twixt these Devils and our deep
    Let courteous trumpets sound,
To welcome Fate’s discourtesy
    Whereby it will be found, etc.

Be well assured, though in our power
    Is nothing left to give
But chance and place to meet the hour,
    And leave to strive to live,
Till these dissolve our Order holds,
    Our Service binds us here.
Then welcome Fate’s discourtesy
    Whereby it is made clear,
        How in all time of our distress,
        As in our triumph too,
        The game is more than the player of the game,
        And the ship is more than the crew!