Hoarse was the slaving captain’s voice, and deep the oath he swore: ‘Haul down the flag; that’s shot enough, we don’t want any more.’ Alongside dashed the cruiser’s boat to board and seize the prize. Hark to that rattling British cheer that’s ringing to the skies! ‘Up, up with the negroes speedily; up, up, and give them breath; Clear out the hold from stem to stern: that noisome den is death; And run aloft St. George’s Cross, all wanton let it wave, The token proud that under it there never treads a slave.’ _THE RUSSIANS WON’T COME OUT._ Written by a seaman on board the _Cressy_. What can we luckless sailors do? no fun comes to our share; The enemy keeps out of view--to meet us they won’t dare! In vain our pennants fly so gay, our cruisers roam about, We might as well in Portsmouth lay--the Russians won’t come out! In Helsingfors they lay quite close; ’neath Cronstadt mole they crowd; They’ll not come out and meet the foes whom once they dared so loud. Like to some worn-out batter’d hulk each gallant ship so stout Behind the batteries does skulk--the cowards won’t come out! The _Arrogant_ and _Hecla_, too, gave them a lesson rough; Tho’ fighting to our lads was new they proved both smart and tough; They strewed the ground with soldiers gay, their batteries knocked about, And brought their merchant ships away, yet still they won’t come out! While in the Baltic we deplore our idle time at sea, Our comrades on the Turkish shore are as badly off as we. Though many ships they’ve made their own, ta’en many a strong redoubt, And batter’d half Odessa down, the Russians won’t come out! That mighty man, Prince Menschikoff, in harbour still does lie, And at the Allied Fleets does scoff as they are sailing by. ‘Don’t think,’ says he, ‘that I’m a fool, a valiant, headstrong lout; I’m safe and snug in Sebastopol, and be hanged if I’ll come out.’ Oh! would they but their anchors weigh and boldly put to sea, With joy to see a sight so gay how full each heart would be; But oh! such wishes are in vain: they know there’s little doubt, They never would get in again if once they venture out. _DON’T FORGET YOUR OLD SHIPMATE._ We’re the boys that fear no noise Whilst thundering cannons roar, And long we’ve toiled on the rolling wave, And now we’re safe on shore. _Don’t forget your old shipmate, Fol de rol._ Since we sailed from Plymouth Sound, Four years gone, to-night, Jack, Were there ever chummies known, Such as you and I, Jack? _Don’t forget, etc._ We have served the self-same gun, Quarter-deck division, Sponger I, and loader you, Through the whole commission. _Don’t forget, etc._