you feel that you would
like to live under such sensations for ever!

HOMEWARD BOUND (HEAVING THE ANCHOR)

Our anchor's a-weigh and our sails are well set;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
And the friends we are leaving we leave with
regret;--
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!

We're homeward bound, and I hear the sound;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
Come, heave on the cable and make it spin round!--
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!

Oh let ourselves go, and heave long and strong;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
Sing then the chorus for 'tis a good song;--
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!

We're homeward bound you've heard me say;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
Hook on the cat-fall, and then run away!
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!

After a long, dreary pilgrimage of trackless oceans, the
last chant had to be sung as their vessel was being warped
through the docks to her discharging berth; and now all
their grievances, joys, and sorrows were poured forth in
"Leave her, Johnnie, leave her!" It was their last chance of
publicly announcing approval or disapproval of their ship,
their captain, and their treatment. Here is a sample of
it:--

"I thought I heard the skipper say,
'Leave her, Johnnie, leave her!
To-morrow you will get your pay,
Leave her, Johnnie, leave her!'

The work was hard, the voyage was long;--
Leave her, Johnnie, leave her!
The seas were high, the gales were strong;--
It's time for us to leave her!

The food was bad, the wages low;--
Leave her, Johnnie, leave her!
But now ashore again we'll go;--
It's time for us to leave her!

The sails are furled, our work is done!
Leave her, Johnnie, leave her!
And now on shore we'll have our fun!
It's time for us to leave her! &c, &c."

Such songs were not stereotyped in their composition. They
varied according to circumstances. Sometimes they were
denunciatory, and at other times full of fun, praise of the
ship, and pathos. There was seldom a middle course, but
whatever side was taken the spontaneous poetic effusion was
not ended until the whole story had been unfolded.

CHAPTER XII

JACK IN RATCLIFF HIGHWAY

As soon as the vessel was moored in a home port, decks