Diary in America, Series One. Фредерик Марриет

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      I was repeating to myself some of the stanzas of Mrs. Norton’s “Here’s a Health to the Outward-bound,” when I cast my eyes forward.

      I could not imagine what the seamen were about; they appeared to be pumping, instead of heaving, at the windlass. I forced my way through the heterogeneous mixture of human beings, animals, and baggage which crowded the decks, and discovered that they were working a patent windlass, by Dobbinson—a very ingenious and superior invention. The seamen, as usual, lightened their labour with the song and chorus, forbidden by the etiquette of a man-of-war. The one they sung was peculiarly musical, although not refined; and the chorus of “Oh! Sally Brown,” was given with great emphasis by the whole crew between every line of the song, sung by an athletic young third mate. I took my seat on the knight-heads—turned my face aft—looked and listened.

      “Heave away there, forward.”

      “Aye, aye, sir.”

      “ ‘Sally Brown—oh! my dear Sally.’ ” (Single voice).

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ” (Chorus).

      “ ‘Sally Brown, of Buble Al-ly.’ ” (Single voice).

      “ ‘Oh! Sal-ly Brown,’ ” (Chorus).

      “Avast heaving there; send all aft to clear the boat.”

      “Aye, aye, sir. Where are we to stow these casks, Mr. Fisher?”

      “Stow them! Heaven knows; get them in, at all events.”

      “Captain H—! Captain H—! there’s my piano still on deck; it will be quite spoiled—indeed it will.”

      “Don’t be alarmed, ma’am; as soon as we’re under weigh we’ll hoist the cow up, and get the piano down.”

      “What! under the cow?”

      “No, ma’am; but the cow’s over the hatchway.”

      “Now, then, my lads, forward to the windlass.”

      “ ‘I went to town to get some toddy.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “ ‘T’wasn’t fit for any body.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “Out there, and clear away the jib.”

      “Aye, aye, sir.”

      “Mr. Fisher, how much cable is there out?”

      “Plenty yet, sir.—Heave away, my lads.”

      “ ‘Sally is a bright mulattar.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “ ‘Pretty girl, but can’t get at her.’ ”

      “Avast heaving; send the men aft to whip the ladies in.—Now, miss, only sit down and don’t be afraid, and you’ll be in, in no time.—Whip away, my lads, handsomely; steady her with the guy; lower away.—There, miss, now you’re safely landed.”

      “Landed am I? I thought I was shipped.”

      “Very good, indeed—very good, miss; you’ll make an excellent sailor, I see.”

      “I should make a better sailor’s wife, I expect, Captain H—.”

      “Excellent! Allow me to hand you aft; you’ll excuse me.—Forward now, my men; heave away!”

      “ ‘Seven years I courted Sally.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “ ‘Seven more of shilley-shally.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “ ‘She won’t wed—’ ”

      “Avast heaving. Up there, and loose the topsails; stretch along the topsail-sheets.—Upon my soul, half these children will be killed.—Whose child are you?”

      “I—don’t—know.”

      “Go and find out, that’s a dear.—Let fall; sheet home; belay starboard sheet; clap on the larboard; belay all that.—Now, then, Mr. Fisher.”

      “Aye, aye, sir.—Heave away, my lads.”

      “ ‘She won’t wed a Yankee sailor.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “ ‘For she’s in love with the nigger tailor.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “Heave away, my men; heave, and in sight. Hurrah! my lads.”

      “ ‘Sally Brown—oh! my dear Sally!’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown!’ ”

      “ ‘Sally Brown, of Buble Alley.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh! Sally Brown.’ ”

      “ ‘Sally has a cross old granny.’ ”

      “ ‘Oh—!’ ”

      “Heave and fall—jib-halyards—hoist away.”

      “Oh! dear—oh! dear.”

      “The clumsy brute has half-killed the girl!—Don’t cry, my dear.”

      “Pick up the child, Tom, and shove it out of the way.”

      “Where shall I put her?”

      “Oh, any where just now; put her on the turkey-coop.”

      “Starboard!”

      “I say, clap on, some of you he chaps, or else get out of the way.”

      “Sailor, mind my band-box.”

      “Starboard!”

      “Starboard it is; steady so.”

      Thus, with the trifling matter of maiming half-a-dozen children, upsetting two or three women, smashing the lids of a few trunks, and crushing some band-boxes as flat as a muffin, the good ship Quebec was at last fairly under weigh, and standing out for St. Helen’s.

      3 p.m.—Off St. Helen’s; ship steady; little wind; water smooth; passengers sure they won’t be sick.

      3:20.—Apologies from the captain for a cold dinner on this day.

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