She moves, with all save purpose lost …
Before there were radio and satellites to give ships up-to-the-minute weather forecasts, coast guard stations used to hoist a black canvas cone – a “storm cone” – to warn ships within sight of land of an approaching gale. The ships, in order not to be smashed against the shore, had to fight their way against wind and waves to gain the relative safety of the open sea.
Kipling had an uncommon faculty for prophecy. and in this poem, written in 1932, he envisioned Britain and the whole world in 1940, in the darkest days of World War II. Now, ninety years later, it is easy to forget that the German blitzkrieg overran the Low Countries and broke through the French front in six days flat. At that time the Nazis were likely to win the war, had it not been for the stubbornness of the British who continued to fight “with all save purpose lost”. When Winston Churchill delivered his famous speech promising “blood, sweat and tears” and vowing “we shall never surrender”, he could well have cited this poem.
The Storm Cone
This is the midnight - let no star Delude us - dawn is very far. This is the tempest long foretold - Slow to make head but sure to hold. Stand by! The lull 'twixt blast and blast Signals the storm is near, not past; And worse than present jeopardy May our forlorn to-morrow be. If we have cleared the expectant reef, Let no man look to his relief. Only the darkness hides the shape Of further peril to escape. It is decreed that we abide The weight of gale against the tide And those huge waves the outer main Sends in to set us back again. They fall and whelm. We strain to hear The pulses of her labouring gear, Till the deep throb beneath us proves, After each shudder and check, she moves! She moves, with all save purpose lost, To make her offing from the coast; But, till she fetches open sea, Let no man deem that he is free!