No one who ever read "Treasure Island" with a mind, but feels there is something lacking in Billy Bones' song. It left a haunting wish for more and if the book was closed with a single regret it was because Billy Bones had not completed his weird chant. So it affected Mr. Allison, a confirmed novel reader and a great admirer of Stevenson. Henry Waller, collaborating with Mr. Allison in the production[13] of the "Ogallallas" by the Bostonians along back in 1891, declared he had a theme for that swashbuckling chant and Allison, who wrote the libretto for the "Ogallallas," agreed to work it out. That same night with Waller's really brilliant musical conception in his mind, Mr. Allison wrote what might be considered the first three verses of the present revision, which were set to Waller's music, written for a deep baritone, and published by Pond. Thereafter during the rehearsal of the "Ogallallas" no session was complete until Eugene Cowles, in his big, rich bass, had sung Allison's three verses of "Fifteen Men on the Dead Man's Chest" to Waller's music, as "lagniappe," while cold chills raced up and down the spines of his hearers--more or less immune to sensations of that character. [13] Incubation at that time. Production in 1893. As I write I have before me a copy of the music, the title page of which reads as follows: "A Piratical Ballad. Song for Bass or Deep Baritone. Words by Young E. Allison. Music by Henry Waller. New York. Published by William A. Pond & Co. 1891." Later it occurred to Mr. Allison that he had done scant justice to an idea full of great possibilities, and another verse was added, and still later another, making five in all, when in a more polished condition it was submitted to the _Century_ for publication, and accepted, though later the editor asked to have the closing lines re-constructed as being a bit too strong for his audience. Mr. Allison felt that to bring back those drink-swollen and weighted bodies "wrapp'd in a mains'l tight" from their "sullen plunge in the sullen swell, ten fathoms deep on the road to hell" would cut the heart out of the idea--while admitting to the _Century's_ editor that such a sentiment might not be entirely fitted for his clientele--and so declined to make the alteration. About this time Mr. Allison had "Derelict" privately printed for circulation among friends. I have in my possession his printer's copy, and the various revisions in his own handwriting--probably a dozen in all.