Then Robins, the mate, got out his Cremona. He was a truly beautiful performer. His magic shifting and his weird tremolo made you imagine you were in a dream, a dream from which you hoped never to be awakened.
Even his playing of so simple an air as “Black-eyed Susan” transformed the whole melody, and caused one to think the composer must really have been a genius.
Willie, who was no mean player on the piano, used often to accompany the mate. He did so to-night.
The captain seated himself in his easy-chair to listen, folding his hands in front of him, after putting his red silk handkerchief over the bald spot on the top of his head.
But seven bells rang out at last, and saying “good-night,” Sandie and Willie retired to their state-room, and were soon snug in the arms of Morpheus. As he lay down, that old hymn-song that Willie and the mate had played kept ringing in Sandie’s head—
ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP.
Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleep;
Secure I rest upon the wave,
For Thou, O Lord, hast power to save.
I know Thou wilt not slight my call,
For Thou dost mark the sparrow’s fall;
Then calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.
In the next verse Sandie got mixed.
The first thing he was conscious or semi-conscious of was a dream, that seemed very real, of wandering by the side of the romantic Don, fishing-rod in hand, sweet Maggie by his side.