"I beg your pardon--they _all died within the year_. I alone remain of all the officers to tell the tale. The year eight was dreadful. Poor fellows!" The good major's voice faltered, and he bent over his sangaree much longer than was necessary to enjoy the draught. Blank horror passed her fearful glance from guest to guest. Even the rubicund doctor's mouth was twitched awry. I did not quite like it myself. "But I'm alive," said the major, rallying up from his bitter recollections, "and the brandy is just as invigorating, and the wine just as refreshing as ever." "The major _is_ alive," said the marine officer, very sapiently. "Is that brandy before you, Mr Farmer? I'll trouble you for it--I really feel this claret very cold upon my stomach. Yes," he repeated, after taking down a tumbler-full of half spirits, half wine, "the major _is_ alive--and--so am I." "The major is alive," went round the table; "let us drink his health in bumpers." The major returned thanks, and volunteered a song. I begged it, and the reader may sing it as he pleases, though I shall please myself by recording how the major was pleased to have it sung. "Gentlemen," said he, "you will do me the favour to fill a bumper of lemonade, and when I cry chorus, chorus me standing, with the glasses in your hands; and at the end of each chorus you will be pleased to remember that the glass is to be drained. No heel-taps after, and no daylight before. Now for it, my lads!" and with a voice that must have startled the land crabs from their avocations, he roared out-- "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee hack! hie thee back! To thy damp, drear abode in the jungle; I'll be sober and staid, And drink _lemonade_, Try and catch me--you'll make a sad bungle, Yellow Jack! "But he came, the queer thief, and he seized my right-hand, And I writh'd and I struggled, yet could not withstand His hot, griping grasp, though I drank lemonade-- He grinn'd and he clutch'd me, though sober and staid." _Chorus_ (with increasing loudness). "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! To thy damp, drear abode in the jungle; We'll be sober and staid, And we'll drink lemonade, Try and catch us--you'll make a sad bungle, Yellow Jack!" (tremendously). "Bumpers of sangaree!" roared the major, and sang: "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! To thy pestilent swamp quickly hie thee; For I'll drink _sangaree_, Whilst my heart's full of glee, In thy death-doing might I'll defy thee, Yellow Jack! "But the fiend persever'd and got hold of my side, How I burn'd, and I froze, and all vainly I tried To get rid of his grasp--though I drank sangaree, No longer my bosom exulted with glee." _Chorus_ (still more loudly).