It was a very love-lorn, lamentable, and lengthy song, three qualities which alone would recommend it to any audience of Jack Tars, as I have since had many occasions to observe.
The intense dolefulness of the ditty was not diminished by the fact that the cook had no musical ear, and having started on a note that was no note in particular, he flattened with every long-drawn lamentation till the ballad became more of a groan than a song.

When the grog-tub was deposited, Dennis beckoned to the boatswain, and we made our way to his side.
"Your cook's a vocal genius, anyhow, bo'sun," said he.

"But don't ye think we'd do more justice to our accomplishments, _and keep in tune_, if we'd an accompaniment?
Have ye such a thing as a fiddle about ye ?" The boatswain was delighted.

Of course there was a fiddle, and I was despatched for it.

I should find it hanging on a hook at the end of the plate-rack, and if the bow was not beside it it would be upon the shelf, and there used to be a lump of resin and a spare string or two in an empty division of the spice-box.