"No enemies old Andrew wot were in the Scottish sea,
And fearing neither man nor deil, he sailed right merrilie;
But when he saw the English cross, O joyful was he then,
And bravely did his crew exhort to fight like Scottish men;
'For Scotland's king we draw the sword, our bairnies and our wives,
in the cause we'll fearless risk our precious limbs and lives.'
"So then he pierced the auld red wine, and a stoup to ilk did gie,
As owre the capstan-head we swore from southron ne'er to flee!
Thus on we came with open ports, at six knots going free,
And vowed to sink—or sink the foe—to die, but never flee!
And there we fought this battle keen beside the Bass and May,
From the rising to the set of sun, upon a summer day.
"The first ball from the English fleet, it shot our foreyard through,
And the splinters beat our gunner wight, till he was black and blue,
Then up he sprang, stout Willie Wad, for a fierce wee man he,
And vowed to drink 'a pint o' bilge,' or he avenged would be;
Then levelling straight a great carthoun, with rings of iron stayed,
A bloody lane, from stem to stern, he through the foemen made!
"The Scots they fought like lyons bold, and many English slewe,
So the slaughter which they made that day, old England long sall rue;
And bravely fought Sir Stephen's men, as Englishmen do aye,
And blows they gave, for ilk they got, as we shall ne'er gainsay;
Till the red summer eve closed in, and at the set of day,
We parted, but as tigers part, all panting from the fray.
"But ere again that summer sun rose from the German main,
Once more the drummes to quarters beat, the fight began againe;
And long we fought with deadly hate, as men for life may fight,
For nought can nerve a Scottish arm, like Scotland's wrong and right.
Sir Stephen Bull we captive made, and sailing to Dundee,
We squared the yards, we furled the sails, and anchored merrilie.
"Then joyful was our noble king, and generous too was he,
Red gold he gave, and shipped them home, to their ain countrie;
'Go tell fair England's king,' quoth he, 'that soe I use the brave,
But if againe ye sayle our seas, you'll win a watery grave.'
Sir Andrew Wood, our captain bolde, was thanked throughout the land,
And many a fair reward got he, from good King James's hand.
Thus bravely was this battle fought, between the Tay and Bass,
And when next we meet the English fleet, may worse ne'er come to passe!"
Boisterous applause followed the conclusion of this song, and every man simultaneously lifted his mug of ale to his mouth, in honour of the sentiment expressed by the last line.
"Thou hast sung well, honest fellow; take this for thy minstrelsy," said a gentleman who had loitered near, tossing into the coxswain's bonnet a golden louis, a donation which immediately drew all eyes upon him.
He was a handsome man, young apparently, and wore a rich sword and scarlet mantle, with a jazarine jacket and salade, which concealed his face, or at least hid so much of it that recognition was impossible. He had lingered near Falconer and Barton, and now resumed his place in a seat adjoining theirs, and if he was not eavesdropping his conduct looked very much like it; but it was unmarked by them, for they were too full of their own thoughts.
"Well fare thee, Scotland," sighed Falconer, draining his wine-horn, "and many such battles may ye win by land and sea. But, much as I love thee, thou art no longer a home or a place for me. France—France or Italy, and their battle-fields, must now be the place where my life and its sorrows may be ended together."