The mate, aroused by the example of the chief, rendered a “Tops’l halliard shanty,” “Blow, Bullies, Blow.” It was almost as though a character had stepped from Pinafore, when the athletic, gallant little mate, giving a hitch to his trousers, thus began: “Strike up a light there, Bullies; who’s the last man sober?” Song.
“O, a Yankee ship came down the river—
Blow, Bullies, blow!
Her sails were silk and her yards were silver—
Blow, my Bully boys, blow!
Now, who do you think was the cap’n of ’er?
Blow, Bullies, blow!
Old Black Ben, the down-east bucko—
Blow, my Bully boys, How!”
”’Ere is a shanty what the packeteers sings when, with ’full an’ plenty,’ we are ’omeward bound. It is a ’windlass shanty,’ an’ we sings it to the music of the winch. The order comes ’hup anchors,’ and the A one packeteer starts hup: