Dogs -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
"Quack, quack," replied Jemmy.
"Well, Mr Salisbury, there's no boat that I can see near us, or even in
sight; and if there was it were little matter. I suppose you will let
me hear you, for I shall have little opportunity after this?"
"With all my heart," replied Jemmy; who, taking up his fiddle, and
playing upon the strings like a guitar, after a little reflection, sang
as follows:--
Bless my eyes, how young Bill threw his shiners away,
As he drank and he danced, when he first came on shore!
It was clear that he fancied that with his year's pay,
Like the Bank of Old England, he'd never he poor.
So when the next day, with a southerly wind in
His pockets, he came up, my rhino to borrow
"You're welcome," says I, "Bill," as I fork'd out the tin,
"But when larking to-day--don't _forget there's to-morrow_."
When our frigate came to from a cruise in the west,
And her yards were all squared, her sails neatly furl'd
Young Tom clasped his Nancy, so loved, to his breast,
As if but themselves there was none in the world.
Between two of the guns they were fondly at play,
All billing and kissing, forgetting all sorrow
"Love, like cash," says I, "Nan, may all go in a day,
While you hug him so close--don't _forget there's to-morrow_."
When a hurricane swept us smack smooth fore and aft,
When we dash'd on the rock, and we flounder'd on shore,
As we sighed for the loss of our beautiful craft,
Convinced that the like we should never see more,
Says I, "My good fellows," as huddled together,
They shiver'd and shook, each phiz black with sorrow,
"Remember, it's not to be always foul weather,
So with ill-luck to-day--don't forget _there's to-morrow_."
"And not a bad hint, neither, Mr Salisbury," said Nancy, when Jemmy
ceased. "You sailors never think of to-morrow, more's the pity. You're
no better than overgrown babies."
"I'm not much better, at all events," replied Jemmy, laughing: "however,
I'm as God made me, and so all's right."
"That's my own darling Jemmy," said Moggy; "and if you're content, and
I'm content, who is to say a word, I should like to know? You may be a
rum one to look at, but I think them fellows found you but a rum
customer the other night."
"Don't put so much rum in your discourse, Moggy, you make me long for a
glass of grog."
"Then your mouth will find the water," rejoined Nancy; "but, however,
singing is dry work, and I am provided. Pass my basket aft, old
gentleman, and we will find Mr Salisbury something with which to whet
his whistle." The boatman handed the basket to Nancy who pulled out a
bottle and glass, which she filled, and handed to Jemmy.
"Now, Mr Salisbury, I expect some more songs," said Nancy.
"And you shall have them, mistress; but I've heard say that you've a
good pipe of your own; suppose that you give me one in return, that will
be but fair play."
"Not exactly, for you'll have the grog in the bargain," replied Nancy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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