Our b—— of a purser, he is very handy,
He mixes the water along with the brandy;
Your anchors a-weigh and your topsails a-trip
The bloody old thief he is very cruel;
Instead of burgoo he gives us water gruel;
A lusty one and lay it well on.
If you spare him an inch you ought to be damn’d,
With your anchors a-weigh and your topsails a-trip.
After hearing the last verse Jerry’s ‘heavenly voice was heard no more to sing,’ and he looked with an evil eye upon me ever after.
In the gale of wind near the Channel, when we were taken aback in the squall that I have mentioned, every article we had was broken with the exception of the cover of a very large mess teapot. This we handed round as a measure to one another with wine from a black jack. I remember being at supper soon after the squall, in the midship berth in the cockpit, the ship rolling gunwale under, when we heard a noise in the after-hold like the rush of many waters, and it struck everyone that a butt end had started and that we should founder in a few minutes. The alarm was given immediately. The sick and lame left their hammocks; the latter forgot his crutch, and leaped—not exulting—like the bounding roe. Down came the captain and a whole posse of officers and men. The gratings were instantly unshipped, and in rushed the carpenter and his crew, horror-struck, with hair standing on end, like quills on the fretful porcupine; when, behold, it was a large cask of peas that had the head knocked out, and the peas as the ship rolled rushed along with a noise exactly like that of water.[[112]]