The same old habits were resumed,
and the same old month's advance was required before sailing
on another voyage.
The "White Stocking Day" was as great an event ashore as the
Dead Horse day was at sea. The sailors' wives, mothers, or
sweethearts always celebrated half-pay day by wearing white
stockings and by carrying their skirts discreetly high
enough so that it might be observed. This custom was carried
out with rigid regularity, and the participators were the
objects of sympathetic attraction. Poor things, there is no
telling what it cost them in anxiety to keep it up. Their
half-pay would not exceed thirty shillings per month, and
they had much to do with it, besides providing white
stockings and a suitable rig to grace the occasion.
"We're homeward bound and I hear the sound," was the
favourite song when heaving up the anchor preparatory to
pointing homeward. This chanty has a silken, melancholy, and
somewhat soft breeziness about it, and when it was well sung
its flow went fluttering over the harbour, which re-echoed
the joyous tidings until soloist and choristers alike became
entranced by the power of their own performances; and the
multitudes who on these occasions came to listen did not
escape the rapture of the fleeting throbs of harmony which
charged the atmosphere, and made you feel that you would
like to live under such sensations for ever!
HOMEWARD BOUND (HEAVING THE ANCHOR)
Our anchor's a-weigh and our sails are well set;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
And the friends we are leaving we leave with
regret;--
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!
We're homeward bound, and I hear the sound;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
Come, heave on the cable and make it spin round!--
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!
Oh let ourselves go, and heave long and strong;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
Sing then the chorus for 'tis a good song;--
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!
We're homeward bound you've heard me say;--
Goodbye, fare you well; goodbye, fare you well!
Hook on the cat-fall, and then run away!
Hurrah! my boys, we're homeward bound!
After a long, dreary pilgrimage of trackless oceans, the
last chant had to be sung as their vessel was being warped
through the docks to her discharging berth; and now all
their grievances, joys, and sorrows were poured forth in
"Leave her, Johnnie, leave her!" It was their last chance of
publicly announcing approval or disapproval of their ship,
their captain, and their treatment.
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