To greet us from battle returning,
With their song and smile to banish each care
By the hearth-fire cheerily burning.
Oh! who would not fight for beings like these,
For mothers, for grandsires hoary?
Like a besom we’ll sweep the foe from the seas,
Or die, in the strife, full of glory.”
“Bravo! three times three!” and the triple sound rolled stunningly from our throats.
“Hark! wasn’t that the boatswain’s whistle?” said I, and for a moment we paused in our applause to listen. But the tumult of the storm drowned everything in its fierce uproar.
“Again, boys—hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” and the cheers were renewed with redoubled vigor.