"The tear dims my e'e
As I look to heaven hie,
And sigh to be free
Frae want and frae wae;
But I dinna see the road,
For between me and my God
A darkness has come doon,
Like the mist on the brae.
"The nicht is wearin' past,
The mist is fleein' fast,
And heaven is bricht at last
To the closin' e'e;
In the hollow o' the hill,
The weary feet are still,
And the weary heart is hame
To its ain countrie."
At that moment the ship's bell clanged.
"Stand by to heave the log—relieve the wheel," cried Mr. Foster.
After considerable delay Badger, the Yankee, came slowly shambling aft, to "take his trick" at the helm, and at the same time the whole crew came scrambling noisily up the fore-scuttle, where the watch on deck joined them, and they gathered in a group about the windlass-bitts.
Captain Phillips, Mr. Basset, and Tom Bartelot, exchanged glances of intelligence and inquiry, while the second named, inspired by some miserable foreboding, grew deadly pale.
"You have not hurried yourself, mate," said Morrison.
"No; didn't intend to, I reckon," drawled the Yankee, in his nasal twang.
"Why did you not come aft the moment the bell struck?"
"Now, stranger," said Badger, in a tone of mock expostulation, "d'ye wish your few brains blowed out with the cook's bellows, or not, that you asks questions or gives orders here?"