In the Straits.

It was not an uncommon experience to lose all lights in the Straits during squalls.Statement at the inquiry
into the Penguin wreck.

OH, this is the song of the steamer-men who steam in the narrow seas,
Where the rocks are many and waters boil at the lash of the South-East breeze;
Day and night with their living freight of sea-sick folk below,
Afloat on the narrow verge of death, the steamers come and go;
Through fog and current, by rock and reef, the ships must nose their way,
Be it storm or fine, or dark or shine, to stern Poneke Bay.

Inky darkness and scourging wind, and never a light to view,
You must lay your course and takes it blind, and your luck may pull you through;
Though where you are to a mile or so no living soul can tell
Your only show is to let her go, though you drive her straight to Hell.
Then a sea-sick public will rave and howl at the terrible man you are
As if a ship on the black Straits trip could be worked like a tramway car.

And night by night with their living freight of trustful folk below,
Afloat on the narrow verge of death the steamers come and go;
Through fog and current, by rock and reef, the ships must find their way;
They must lay their course and take it blind to grim Poneke Bay,
For where they are to a mile or two no living soul can tell;
Their only show is to let her go, to Wellington wharf or Hell.

David McKee Wright.
Maoriland.
The Bulletin, 11 March 1909.