A good pumping-out chanty after a storm is _Solo_. Old Storm has heard the angel call. _Chorus_. To my ay! Old Storm along! _Reuben Ranzo_ is a grand one for a good long haul. The chorus comes after every line, striking like a squall, with a regular roar on the first word, Ranzo. _Solo_. Hurrah for Reuben Ranzo! _Chorus_. Ranzo, boys, Ranzo! Ranzo's progress from a lubberly tailor to a good smart sailor is then related with infinite variations, but always with the same gusto. _Ranzo_ is only really popular afloat. But _Blow the man down_ is a universal favourite. _Solo_. Blow the man down, blow the man down, _Chorus_. 'Way-ho! Blow the man down. _Solo_. Blow the man down from Liverpool town; _Chorus_. Give us some wind to blow the man down. When every sail is set and every stitch is drawing, there is no finer sight the sea can show. The towering masts; the canvas gleaming white, with its lines of curving {114} beauty drawn by the touch of the wind; the whole ship bounding forward as if just slipped from her leash--all this makes a scene to stir the beholder then and for ever after. The breeze pipes up. She's doing ten knots now; eleven, twelve; and later on, fifteen. This puts the lee rail under; for she lays over on her side so far that her deck is at a slope of forty-five. Her forefoot cuts through the water like the slash of a scimitar; while her bows throw out two seething waves, the windward one of which breaks into volleying spray a-top and rattles down like hailstones on the fore-deck.