First published in Punch, March 4, 1903


["Capt. Kettle," now the Rev. Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., has definitely retired into
private life, greatly regretted by all who knew him.]

THE LOST LEADER
By
P. G. Wodehouse

Latter-day DRAKE (with a liberal dash of the late lamented KIDD),
Long have I followed your bright career, thrilled at the deeds you did;
Long have I watched you pace your bridge, resolute, daring, smart;
You were a friend in my every mood---and now we have got to part.

Long have I helped you range the globe through many a varied scene,
Through troublous times afloat and ashore, keeping your ticket clean.
From Floridan creek to the Congo's stream, in a hundred stirring frays,
You taught me all I shall ever know of the sea and the sailor's ways.

Ah, the salt-sea smell, and the hiss of the foam, and the throb of the whirring screw!
Oft we have battled side by side with a villainous, cut-throat crew;
And now with a gibe and an acid sneer, and now with a well-judged shot,
Taught them exactly who was who, precisely what was what.

To run a blockade or to poach a pearl-Those were the jobs for us;
Our motto a maximum of work with a minimum of fuss.
The foe might rage or the engines fail, the ship might break in two,
With you at my side I was undismayed, I knew you would see me through.

You were not built for the joys of peace, your business is on the sea;
The bridge of a tramp is the place for you, my reverend K.C.B.
You were not born to be slothful, sleek, a payer of tax and rate.
Leave such a life to lesser men-yours is a nobler fate.

Out once more in your rakish craft, travel the wide world through;
Girdle the earth from shore to shore, from China to Peru.
Where glittering icebergs rear their peaks, where the tropical sun-dart flames,
Let the welkin ring with your pistol's crack, let it roar with your crisp "By James!"