"Now the Dreadnought's a-bowlin' (Bump! Rattle) down the wild Irish sea
Where the pass (Bump!) engers are merry with hearts full of glee,
While the sailors like lions (Gid-dap! What's the matter with ye) walk the decks to and fro,
She's the Liverpool packet (Bump! Bang! Crack!) Good Lord, let her go!"
Sears Kendrick sat upright on the settee. Of course he recognized the song, every man who had ever sailed salt water knew the old Dreadnought chantey, but much more than that, he believed he recognized the voice of the singer. Leaning forward, he watched for the latter to appear.
Then, around the clump of lilacs which leaned over Captain Sol Snow's fence at the corner, came an old white horse drawing an old "truck-wagon," the wagon painted, as all Cape Cod truck-wagons then were and are yet, a bright blue; and upon the high seat of the wagon sat a chunky figure, a figure which rocked back and forth and sang:
"Now the Dreadnought's a sailin' the (Bang! Bump!) Atlantic so wide,
While the (Thump! Bump!) dark heavy seas roll along her black side,
With the sails neatly spread (Crump! Jingle!) and the red cross to show,
She's the Liverpool packet; Good Lord, let——"
Captain Kendrick interrupted here.
"Ahoy, the Dreadnought!" he hailed. "Dreadnought ahoy!"
"Good Lord, let 'er go!" roared the man on the seat of the truck-wagon, finishing the stanza of his chantey. Then he added "Whoa!" in a mighty bellow. The white horse stopped in his tracks, as if he had one ear tipped backward awaiting the invitation. His driver leaned down and peered into the shadow of the lilac bush.
"Who—?" he began. "Eh? What? Limpin', creepin', crawlin', jumpin' Moses and the prophets! It ain't Cap'n Sears Kendrick, is it? It is, by Henry! Well, well, well, WELL, WELL!"
Each succeeding "well" was louder and more emphatic than its predecessor. They were uttered as the speaker rolled, rather than climbed, down from the high seat. Alighting upon a pair of enormous feet shod in heavy rubber boots, the tops of which were turned down, he thumped up the little slope from the road to the sidewalk. Then, thrusting over the fence pickets a red and hairy hand, the size of which corresponded to that of the feet, he roared another string of delighted exclamations.
"Cap'n Sears Kendrick, on deck and all taut again! Well, by the jumpin', creepin'! If this ain't—Cap'n Sears, sir, how be you?"