Feet upon the table,
Smoking his Henry Clay;
Young Pay pays out money,
Old Pay takes it in;
Everybody works on this ship
But dear old Kim.
Howls of glee from warrant officers, from petty officers, from hundreds of hammocks greeted the song. Kim chuckled but wouldn't come out. Finally the siege could be resisted no longer and out came Kim in full regulation pajamas and the din was terrific. It was a dance all around and some more strictly regulation things to drink. Happy New Year was sung for the 273d time and then came a further inspection of the ship. Wasn't it time for the dinner for New Year's Day to be tested in the cook's galley? Wasn't there as fine a specimen of the genus turkey as graced any board in the United States all ready to be tested? And wasn't it tested until nothing but the rack was left?
The fire rooms had to be visited and down slippery ladders with the machinery chugging and rolling and plunging the piratical crew stole. Where men were sweating in front of furnace doors in watertight compartments the greeting was sung and the words "Happy New Year" were chalked on furnace doors. Perhaps the engines lost a revolution or two, or the steam slowed off just a bit and the officer of the deck wondered why he was unable to keep his position of 1,200 yards from the flagship exactly, but what did it matter?
And when the rounds were all completed and the pirates assembled in the wardroom for their final song and final—well, never mind that—didn't a messenger from the bridge come down with a signalled message from the Vermont with a toast that was being offered in the Vermont's wardroom:
Here's to you, Louisiana,
Here's to you, our jovial friends?