"Well, I know 'The Gal I left behind me,' and 'Hearts of Oak,' and 'Tom Bowline,' and—"
"Oh, do sing 'Tom Bowline,' Mr. Thompson."
After much persuasion Jerry got over his bashfulness; then, in a full mellow voice, sang that fine old sea-song, and ere the last verse was completed he heard the ladies sobbing as if their hearts would break. When he had finished, the younger lady wiped her eyes, and looked at him with the greatest admiration. He was no longer the bashful-awkward sailor, but a man of genuine tenderness of heart, and she began fully to understand how it was that her friends thought so highly of him. As he sang his voice seemed filled with pity for some lost shipmate, and it would have been an unsympathetic ear upon which such a song fell without calling forth some pitying response; and the young lady, though not intending to do so, looked at the acting boatswain in such a manner, that a much less susceptible person would have easily understood her meaning.
Jerry began to feel uncomfortable. I wish she wouldn't stare at me so, he thought. I'll ask her to sing.
"Please, miss, as it's my call, may I be so bold as to ask you to sing?"
"What song would you like, Mr. Thompson? I am almost ashamed to sing after you."
"Anything, miss; they are all pretty."
Not without a touch of mischief in her voice, the dark-eyed one sang "Love not." Now, had she wished to captivate the sailor she could not have chosen a more inappropriate song. When she commenced Thompson was all attention, but at the words
"Love flings a halo round the fair one's head,"