The voice was none other than Engelhardt's.
"You? The devil you do! How's that, then?"
"I came out in a sailing ship."
"What do you know?"
"Some of the choruses."
"'Blow the land down?'"
"Yes—best of all."
"Then we'll have that! Messmates you join his nibs in the chorus. I sing yarn and chorus too. Ready? Steady! Here goes!"
And in a rich, rolling voice, that had been heard above many a gale on the high seas, he began with the familiar words:
Oh, where are you going to, my pretty maid?—