The 'Silver Crown' made steady progress southward. The breeze remained favourable, and the temperature slowly rose.
The Bay of Biscay was left far astern, and within a week the latitude of Madeira was reached.
There the first breath of the steady north-east trade wind was felt, and as it strengthened, all the topmast and topgallant studding-sail booms were sent aloft, and their gear was rove. The canvas was also 'bent,' or fastened to the yards, and to the ever-cheery sea chanty:
'What shall we do with the drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?
Put him in the tar pot till he gets sober,
Early in the morning,'
many young Irish emigrants seized the halyards, and with right good will tugged at them like horses. Ropes and patent blocks hummed to the strain. In great balloon-like clouds the studding-sails, far beyond the standing yardarms, swelled out magnificently in the fresh breeze.
Mr. Statten sang out 'Belay'; tacks and sheets were hauled taut, and, with two knots an hour added to the pace, the beautiful ship raced along like a yacht, with her head ever pointing southward.
The weather had now become delightful. The keen northern winds had disappeared, all day long a brilliant and unclouded sun filled ocean and sky with increasing warmth. All manner of amusements were now devised by the passengers to while away the long hours of daylight, and although most of the games proved very popular, none seemed to take such permanent hold as the 'evening concerts' given by the watch on deck when 'sucking the bilges dry' at the close of each day.
As many people as could find room at the pump brakes always assisted the sailors, yet none of the old sea songs ever proved so entertaining as one that was composed by the ship's poet, a young ordinary seaman, the first three verses of it being now made public. The song was named—
THE VOYAGE OF THE 'SILVER CROWN'
I