cheerly O and cheerly O,
Come shake a leg, lads, all O.
Wi' a yo-ho-ho and a rumbelow
And main-haul, shipmates, haul O.

Some swam in rum to kingdom come,
Full many a lusty fellow.
And since they're dead I'll lay my head
They're flaming now in hell O.

So cheerly O, so cheerly O"--

Waiting for no more of the vile rant I strode forward and thus
presently came on a small dell or dingle full of the light of a fire
that crackled right merrily; at the which most welcome sight I made
shift to scramble down the steepy bank forthright and approached the
blaze on eager feet. Drawing near, I saw the fire burned within a
small cave beneath the bank, and as I came within its radiance the song
broke off suddenly and a man rose up, facing me across the fire and
with one hand hid under the flap of his side pocket.

"Fibs off your popps, cull!" quoth in the vernacular of the roads.
"Here's none but a pal as lacketh warmth and a bite!"

"Aha!" quoth the fellow, peering across the blaze, "And who be you?
Stand and give a show o' your figurehead!" Obediently I stood with
hands outspread to the flame, warming my shivering body at its grateful
heat.

"Well?" says I.

"Why," quoth he, nodding, "You're big enough and wild enough and as
likely a cut-throat as another--what's the lay?"

"The high pad!" says I.

"Where away?"

"'Tis no matter!"

"All I asks is," quoth the fellow with a quizzical look, "how you've
fobbed the nubbing-cheat so long!"

"And what I ask is," quoth I, "how a sailor-man comes to know the
patter o' the flash coves!"

"'Tis no matter," says he, "but since you're o' the Brotherhood sit ye
and welcome, 'tis dry enough here in this cave."

Staying for no second bidding I entered the little cave and sat me down
in the comforting warmth of the fire. The man was a comely fellow of a
hectoring, swashing air, bright of eyes and instant of gesture; close
to hand lay a short cutting-sword, pistols bulged his deep
coat-pockets, while betwixt his knees was a battered case-bottle.

"Well," says he, eyeing me over, "what's the word?"

"Food!" says I.

"Nary a bite!" he answered, shaking his head. "But here's rum now if
you've a mind to sluice the ivories--ha?"

"Not a drop!" says I.

"Good! The more for me!" he nodded. "Rum--ha--

"Some swam in rum to kingdom come"--

"You sing a mighty strange song!" quoth I.

"Ha--d'ye like it?"

"No, I don't!"

"And wherefore no?"

"Th