Captain Jonas emptied his glass, limped to the table where the Admiral was seated, hitched himself up on the corner, crossed the leg fashioned by human hands over that made by his Creator, and with fingers clasped held it there, as if he feared that it would walk off by itself. He then opened a mouth more renowned for size than beauty, and sang that song with which I have often sung you, when you were my little Adoniah, to sleep, when mother had gone to Wednesday evening meeting. I am good at catching a tune, and perhaps some of the words I have supplied; but I am sure that for villainy mine could never equal the viciousness of the words which issued from the lips of plain Captain Jonas. This was the song that he sang:
MALABAR COAST.
As I was a-sailin' down Malabar coast, I spies a fair wessel, a-lee, a-lee, Of gallant good riggin' and sticks did she boast. We filled up our glasses and gave her a toast, For soon she'd belong, sir, to we, to we, For soon she'd belong, sir, to we.
She signalled her name, and she ran up a rag Of warious bright colours to see, to see. We didn't wait long, but without any brag, We hoisted the Cross Bones, the jolly Black Flag, And merrily sailed down a-lee, a-lee, And merrily sailed down a-lee.
We gave her a shot or two over the bows, The wind moaned aloft and a-low, a-low; We was down on our luck, and our spirits to rouse, We started right in for a jolly carouse Aboard of a wessel you know, all know, Her name was the "Cadogan Snow."
We piled up her silks and her wines on the decks As high as my head, sir, and higher, much higher, And when we had made her the sweetest of wrecks, We stopped all their mouths by just slitting some necks And took every thing that a gent could desire, Then set the old barco afire.
We forced some sweet ladies fair over the side, With many a jest and a lively prank. To old Davy Jones each relinquished his bride, And when they bewailed 'em, and mournfully cried, We started 'em out on a wery long plank— They moaned and they groaned as they sank.