Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
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September 20, 1914.
Who that loves tales of adventure, thrilling yarns involving the search for mysteriously lost treasure, has not gloried in “Treasure Island”? And who that recalls Stevenson’s stirring romance does not involuntarily chant to himself the ridiculous but none the leas fascinating verse commencing
“Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Chest—”
as if the gruesome rhyme were in a way intended as a sort of refrain for the entire story? When we were younger we undoubtedly speculated on the amazing capacity of this particular dead man’s chest, and we gloated over the uncanny wickedness of the whole affair. The verse, however, turns out to be one of those curiosities of literature which is unearthed every now and then by some industrious contributor to the “Query Page” of The New York Times Book Review. In this number of the latter the entire song or “chantey” is given, copied from an old scrapbook, and while it can hardly be recommended as a delectable piece of literature, in any sense, it is interesting, aside from its Stevensonian connection, as a bit of rough, unstudied sailor’s jingle, the very authorship of which is long since forgotten. And the youthful myth of the Dead Man’s Chest—that, too, it appears, is not at all the thing that fancy painted it. The real Dead Man’s Chest, however, as “W. L.” explains it, is quite as alluring as the imaginary one and will appeal to the student of geographical peculiarities in the West Indies.
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October 4, 1914.
“FIFTEEN MEN ON THE DEAD MAN’S CHEST”
New York Times Review of Books: