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All hands, unmoor! unmoor Hark to the hoarse, but welcome sound, Startling the seaman's sweetest slumbers. The groaning capstan's labouring round, The cheerful fife's enliv'ning numbers;. And ling'ring idlers join the brawl, And merry ship-boys swell the call, All hands, unmoor! unmoor! The cry is, "A sail! a sail!"
It dispelled all the romance of the expedition at once, he thought grumblingly. Despite all Mr Capstan's bullying, he had not run away from the ship for that; so he was not at all in a mood to have any conversation with such an unprincipled fellow as Val, who ought to have enlightened him before.
Teddy found it much pleasanter than on the passage out, as Captain Lennard was able to spare more time in teaching him his duty, a task which he was ably backed up in by Uncle Jack and Robins, the new second-mate, a smart young seaman whom the captain had promoted from the fo'c's'le to take Capstan's vacant place, and a wonderful improvement in every way to that bully.
"Reckon it's buried deep, do you?" inquired Colonel Ward, a flavor of satiric skepticism in his voice. He was gazing quizzically forward to where Mr. Bodge sat on the capstan's drumhead, his nose elevated with wistful eagerness, his whiskers flapping about his ears, his eyes straight ahead. "It's buried deep," said Hiram, with conviction.
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