"Across the foaming billows, boys,
Across the roaring sea,
"We'll all forget our hardships, lads,
With England on the lee".
But the crew of the brave Flora M'Vayne took their cue from the skipper, and never a Saturday night passed without many a song and many a toast, and always an original yarn of some adventure afloat or ashore. Sings Dibdin:--
"The moon on the ocean was dimmed by a ripple,
Affording a chequered delight;
The gay jolly tars passed the word for the tipple
And the toast--for 'twas Saturday night,
Some sweetheart or wife that he lov'd as his life,
Each drank, while he wished he could hail her,
But the standing toast that pleased the most was--
Here's the wind that blows and the ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor!"
So thoroughly old-fashioned was Captain Talbot that on some Saturday nights he did not think it a bit beneath him to join his men around the fire, and they loved him all the better for it too.
Well, no matter how crowded the men might be of a night like this, there was always room left in the inner circle for Viking, old Pen, and Jim the monkey.
Jim, with his red jacket on, used to sit by Viking, looking very serious and very old, and combing the dog's coat with his long slender black fingers.
This was a kind of shampoo that invariably sent Vike off to sleep.
Then Jim would lie down alongside him, draw one great paw over his body, and go off to sleep also.
But old Pen would be very solemn indeed. He was troubled with cold feet, and it was really laughable enough to see him standing there on one leg while he held up and exposed his other great webbed pedal apparatus to the welcome glow emitted by the fire.
Sometimes yarns were at a discount, though songs never were, and no matter how simple, they were always welcome, even if told without any straining for effect and in ordinary conversational English, if they had truth in them.