'Well done!' shouted Rattenbury. 'By Moses, the little wench is heated. Olver, you could not have been brought to that. No teaching would have done that. Every nerve in the girl leaped, every pulse bounded when I touched a fiddlestring.' The boatman growled something about being old and stout. 'Olver, if you cannot dance you can sing――or if you have no music in your organ you can bellow. Join with me, and we will have the Lights up channel.' Then he broke forth: 'Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies, Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain; For we've received orders to sail for Old England, But we hope in a short time to see you again. We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors, We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt sea, Until we strike soundings in the Channel of England, From Ushant to Scilly be leagues thirty-three.' 'Now mark,' said the captain, waving his bow and indicating points in the room. 'The first light we make, it is called the Dodman. That is after leaving Scilly――there she is, shining out on the lea like a star. The Ram's Head――that is next――shining yonder. Then Plymouth, next Start Point, and after that the light of the Isle of Wight. We steer past Beechy, by Farley, by Dungeness until we arrive at the South Foreland light. You see, it's like a picture; all of the points come up one after another like the stars in the belt of Orion. Now we will sing again: 'Now the signal is made for the grand fleet to anchor, In the Downs at the nightfall to lay up the fleet, Then stand by your cat-stoppers, see clear the shank-painters, Haul up the clue-garnets, stick out tacking and sheet. Let every man toss off a full flowing bumper, Let every man toss off a full flowing bowl, For we'll drink and be jolly, and drown melancholy, So here is a health to each true-hearted soul.' Rattenbury's face glowed with pleasure. He continued for a while playing variations on the theme, as again in memory he came up the Channel, and smelt the breeze, and heard the hiss of the water, and saw the twinkle of the lights succeeding each other. Then he laid down his violin and said, 'Ah, Winefred! you tangle up my kerchief into a knot on the floor. Before long you will be able to dance on it and skip off, leaving it smooth as when laid down.' 'Then,' said the girl, 'Mr. Dench must not have gambolled on it first. I have done my best to smooth what he ruffled.' 'Come now,' said the captain, 'Jane, let us hear you sing.' Without hesitation she struck up: 'Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,' and Job accompanied her, chiming on the strings. A pathetic song to a plaintive melody, but the effect on the singer was not pleasing. On the contrary, as she sang of the woes of the forsaken maiden, her face darkened, its lines grew deep, and her brow contracted. She did not observe the intensity with which Dench watched her.