"But if your honour gives your mind To study all our ways, With dance and song we'll jog along As in those happy days. "I like your honour's looks, and feel You're worthy of your sword. Your hand, my lad--I'm doosid glad To welcome you aboard!" [Illustration] SIR BERKELY looked amazed, as though He did not understand. "Don't shake your head," good WILLIAM said, "It is an honest hand. "It's grasped a better hand than yourn-- Come, gov'nor, I insist!" The Captain stared--the coxswain glared-- The hand became a fist! "Down, upstart!" said the hardy salt; But BERKELY dodged his aim, And made him go in chains below: The seamen murmured "Shame!" He stopped all songs at 12 P.M., Stopped hornpipes when at sea, And swore his cot (or bunk) should not Be used by aught than he. [Illustration] He never joined their daily mess, Nor asked them to his own, But chaffed in gay and social way The officers alone. His First Lieutenant, PETER, was As useless as could be, A helpless stick, and always sick When there was any sea. This First Lieutenant proved to be His foster-sister MAY, Who went to sea for love of he, In masculine array. And when he learnt the curious fact Did he emotion show, Or dry her tears, or end her fears By marrying her? No! [Illustration] Or did he even try to soothe This maiden in her teens? Oh no!--instead he made her wed The Sergeant of Marines! Of course such Spartan discipline Would make an angel fret. They drew a lot, and straightway shot This fearful martinet. The Admiralty saw how ill They'd treated CAPTAIN REECE; He was restored once more aboard The saucy _Mantelpiece_. [Illustration] DON'T FORGET! Now, Marco, dear, My wishes hear: While you're away It's understood You will be good, And not too gay. To every trace Of maiden grace You will be blind. And will not glance By any chance On womankind! If you are wise, You'll shut your eyes Till we arrive, And not address A lady less Than forty-five; You'll please to frown On every gown That you may see; And O, my pet, You won't forget You've married me! O, my darling, O, my pet, Whatever else you may forget, In yonder isle beyond the sea, O, don't forget you've married me! You'll lay your head Upon your bed At set of sun. You will not sing Of anything To any one: You'll sit and mope All day, I hope, And shed a tear Upon the life Your little wife Is passing here! And if so be You think of me, Please tell the moon; I'll read it all In rays that fall On the lagoon: