It was a perfect June day, warm and bright, and with a steady northwest wind on the Narwhal’s quarter. Captain Edwards declared that if the breeze held throughout the day and night, they would pass George’s Banks before noon the following day. Before dark, long, low Monomoy Point was sighted and with the last of the land astern, Cap’n Pem roared out orders and the willing crew raced to sheets and braces.
Oh, whisky is the life of man,
Whisky! Johnny!
It always was since time began,
Oh, whisky for my Johnny!
Lustily the men roared out the old chantey as the fore and mainsail sheets were hauled in, and the big foretopsail yard swung to the heave of the braces. Then, as the Narwhal turned towards the north and the freshening wind abeam buried her lee rails under the tumbling suds-like froth, the crew swarmed aloft. Presently the foretopgallant sail was thrashing and snapping like a battery of rapid-fire guns, as the men furled the canvas to the rousing chantey:
Around Cape Horn, where wild gales blow,
To me way-hay, hay-yah!
Around Cape Horn through sleet and snow,
A long time ago——!