Enquiring for th’ stoo’ard of Corbett’s barquentine.”
There was a rare, seaman-like swing to a verse which ran:—
“Under a goose-winged tawp-s’l, an’ a double-reef’d main-sail,
With her head towards th’ nor’ad, boys, she rides a furious gale;
If brother Tom could see us naow, an’ hear those wild winds blow
He’d thank th’ Lord that he was out of Corbett’s gundalow!”
With the droning of the wind, the seething of the sea, and the squawking of the gulls as accompaniments, this deep-sea concert went on, and every man worked like a busy tailor baiting his gear and chiming in the choruses. Someone struck up an inspiring song about the record run of the fishing schooner Mary L. MacKay, and it reflected the spirit of those hardy Banksmen.
“We lashed th’ hawser to th’ rack, an’ chocked th’ cable box,
An’ over-hauled th’ shackles on th’ fore an’ main-sheet blocks;
We double griped th’ dories as th’ gang began to pray,