"No, miss. 'E's crying fretful like—or at least 'e was. Seems like a woman's step and tongue quiets 'im a bit, miss: werry unusual, o' course, but when so be as a man's off 'is 'ead, I says——"
"Darn you, Jenson! Stop your bally grinning! He stabbed me, I tell you——"
Harcourt's shrill cry pierced through the low-toned voices and sent cold sweat starting on Cyrus Hammer's brow as he stared up into darkness.
Where was he? What was this terror that had seized on Harcourt? For answer the soft murmur of Sara Helmuth's soothing voice came to him, followed by the wheeze of a harmonica.
"All right, miss, I've got me instrument in ship-shape order, so to speak. Let's give 'em that 'ere lullaby you was a-singing of last night, miss—them Irish things fair brings the music out o' me, though bein' born and bred in Wapping I ain't got much use for the Irish in general. But let 'er go, miss; I'll come in somewheres."
Silence for a moment; then the girl's voice rose—a soft, deep-toned contralto, with Solomon "coming in somewheres" with his harmonica in a monotone accompaniment which did well enough, however, and must have satisfied him amazingly. Hammer's eyes glistened as the words came sweetly to him, for the words and air brought many things back to him, things that he thought long forgotten——
"Out on the sea where the sad winds wail
(Sad and low, sad and low!)
Watch for the flash of thy father's sail
Dipping from sight in the sunset glow!
He comes no more till the dim stars die
And the day gleams, red in the eastern sky;
Baby of mine—
Oh, baby of mine, hush, hush thy cry,
For the deep sea-moan holds grief of its own—
Grieve not my heart with thine!
"Out on the sea where the slow gulls wheel
(Sad and slow, sad and slow!)
Watch how the writhing night-mists steal.
Veiling the infinite ocean's wo!
Father will come when the nets are drawn
With a kiss for thee, as the night is gone;
Baby of mine—
Oh, baby of mine, in the rosy dawn
He will come to me, with a kiss for thee,
On the crest of the tossing brine!
"Dang it—'e's asleep—excuse me, miss, while I see to Mr. 'Ammer."
Solomon's voice was husky and jerky, and the American, who felt much the same way himself, saw a flood of light spread through his darkness for a moment. A step sounded, and Solomon dropped into a creaking chair beside Hammer.