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Updated: June 21, 2025
Certain of us men have sense enough to live on the sea, and keep away from land, except for water and provision. We go from sea to sea, and land 's between." "And what would you do for a country if we had no land? You 're always talking about lovin' your country, bosun." "Ay, that I do," said the old man. "I look upon a country, that is a land country, as a kind of necessary evil.
But when we had eaten our evening meal, we got our instruments and played until the sun went down, with a gusto which certainly we had never shown before. For the nonce I gave up the castanets to the bosun, and beat the drum myself, thumping it on its sound side joyously.
Bosun Jones has been down to the others, and he says these here may stop where they are." "What for?" "Oh, one o' the four chaps we brought in last night's half wild, and been running amuck. Come on down." "Yah!" growled the sinister sailor, scowling at Jem, as if there were some old enmity between them. "I say, don't," said Jem mockingly. "You'll spoil your good looks.
"Come, all ye hardy fishermen An' hearken to me lay O' how the good brig 'Peggy Bell' Went down in Trin'ty Bay. "The skipper he was from St. John's, The mate from Harbor Grace; The bosun was a noble lad Wid whiskers 'round his face." Pat Kavanagh was the author of the ballad that commences this way, and of many more.
"Now, Mackay," said Captain Gillespie, blowing like a grampus after his exertions, "take y'r choice, but I think that the two best shots in the ship ought to have the Martini rifles; and if I were picking out the picked marksmen he! he! that's a joke, `picking' and `picked, didn't intend it though I'd have chosen y'rself and the bosun!"
There was a big, red wale around it, in the middle of which was a huge blood blister. He pricked it with his knife, then rearranged his stocking and joined us as we lifted the body. "'Great God, sir! exclaimed big Bill, the bosun. 'Is that Frank? I wouldn't know him. "Frank, the dead man, had been strong, robust, and full-blooded. But he bore no resemblance to his living self.
"Hullo, bosun!" cried the captain, addressing Tim Rooney, who was helping me to put on my jacket again, and endeavouring, rather unsuccessfully, to conceal all traces of the fray on my person. "What the dickens does all this mean?"
Make the best of things. You're in the king's service now, so take your fate like a man." He nodded and crossed to the trap. "Ahoy, there! Below there! I'm coming. Can't expect a bosun to break his neck." He said these last words as his head and shoulders were above the floor, and gave the prisoners a friendly nod just as his eyes were disappearing.
After abandoning his plan to ship as chief mate he had sought a second mate's berth, but failing to find one, and with each idle day making deeper inroads into his scant savings, he had at length descended to the ignominy of considering a job as bosun. Even that was not forthcoming, and now his money was entirely dissipated.
He appealed to the men at his back. "He won't stand up like a man. He leaps around like a bloody monkey." "That's right, bosun. Stand up to him there, you!" That was the carpenter's voice. And others followed. 'Twasn't so men'd been used to fightin' on oil-tankers. No, sir. "Stand to him breast to breast!" The carpenter led further clamorous voices. "Aye, breast to breast be it."
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