‘Now, my lads, for a song,’ says the officer in command; and after some little demur as to who shall commence, a man strikes up an old sea-song describing the wreck of the Ramilies, near Plymouth, a number of verses with a chorus to each:
With close-reefed tops’ls neatly spread,
She sought for to weather the old Rame Head.
A fine effect is produced as the chorus is taken up by thirty deep voices, many of the men, with a sailor’s natural aptitude for music, singing the second and bass; and the unusual volume of sound drowns for a moment the deafening noises of the beasts and insects that are holding their usual nocturnal concert in the neighbouring jungle.
‘Well done the starboard watch!’ says a man when the song is concluded. ‘Now the port.’ And soon another song begins:
’Twas in Cawsand Bay lying,
With the Blue-Peter flying,
And all hands aboard for the anchor to weigh,
There came a young lady,
As fair as a May-day,