[Tiny she looked on the grating—that oily, treacly

sea-]

Hundred and eighteen East, remember, and South just three.

Easy bearings to carry-three South-three to the

dot;

But I gave McAndrews a copy in case of dying—or

not.

And so you'll write to McAndrews, he's Chief of the Maori Line;

They'll give him leave, if you ask 'em and say it's business o' mine.

I built three boats for the Maoris, an' very well pleased they were,

An' I've known Mac since the Fifties, and Mac knew

me-and her.

After the first stroke warned me I sent him the

money to keep

Against the time you'd claim it, committin' your dad to the deep;

For you are the son o' my body, and Mac was my oldest friend,

I've never asked 'im to dinner, but he'll see it out to the end.

Stiff-necked Glasgow beggar, I've heard he's prayed for my soul,

But he couldn't lie if you paid him, and he'd starve before he stole.

He'll take the Mary in ballast-you'll find her a lively ship;

And you'll take Sir Anthony Gloster, that goes on his wedding-trip,

Lashed in our old deck-cabin with all three portholes wide,

The kick o' the screw beneath him and the round blue seas outside!

Sir Anthony Gloster's carriage-our 'ouse-flag flyin' free

Ten thousand men on the pay-roll and forty freighters at sea!

He made himself and a million, but this world is a fleetin' show,

And he'll go to the wife of 'is bosom the same as he ought to go.

By the heel of the Paternosters-there isn't a chance to mistake

And Mac'll pay you the money as soon as the bubbles break!

Five thousand for six weeks' cruising, the stanch

est freighter afloat,

And Mac he'll give you your bonus the minute I'm out o' the boat!

ΤΟ

He'll take you round to Macassar, and you'll come

back alone;

He knows what I want o' the Mary.

what I please with my own.

Your mother 'ud call it wasteful, but I've sevenand-thirty more;

I'll come in my private carriage and bid it wait at

For my son 'e was never a credit: 'e muddled

with books and art,

And 'e lived on Sir Anthony's money and 'e broke Sir Anthony's heart.

There isn't even a grandchild, and the Gloster family's done

The only one you left me, O mother, the only

one!

Harrer an' Trinity College! Me slavin' early an'

late,

An' he thinks I'm dyin' crazy, and you're in Macassar Strait!

Flesh o' my flesh, my dearie, for ever an' ever

amen,

That first stroke come for a warning; I ought to

ha' gone to you then,

But-cheap repairs for a cheap 'un-the doctors said I'd do:

Mary, why didn't you warn me? I've allus heeded

to you,

Excep'-I know-about women; but you are a

spirit now;

An', wife, they was only women, and I was a man. That's how.

An' a man 'e must go with a woman, as you could not understand;

But I never talked 'em secrets. I paid 'em out o'

hand.

Thank Gawd, I can pay for my fancies! Now what's five thousand to me,

For a berth off the Paternosters in the haven where I would be ?

I believe in the Resurrection, if I read my Bible

plain,

But I wouldn't trust 'em at Wokin'; we're safer at

sea again.

For the heart it shall go with the treasure-go down to the sea in ships.

I'm sick of the hired women-I'll kiss my girl on

her lips!

I'll be content with my fountain, I'll drink from my own well,

And the wife of my youth shall charm me-an' the

rest can go to Hell!

(Dickie, he will, that's certain.) I'll lie in our standin'-bed,

An' Mac'll take her in ballast-and she trims best

by the head. . . .

Down by the head an' sinkin'. Her fires are drawn and cold,

And the water's splashin' hollow on the skin of the empty hold

Churning an' choking and chuckling, quiet and scummy and dark

Full to her lower hatches and risin' steady.

Never seen death yet, Dickie ? . . . Well, now is

your time to learn!