"Go to sleep, Solomon, and you, youngster, give us a song yourself,"
growled Grimstone, who had all the outward bearing of a savage; "the
evening is nigh closing, and the birds are gone to their nests.
Nevertheless, the song must be right proper: so tune up, tune up, my
boy!"
Springall, with due modesty, replied, "I could sing you sea songs, and
land songs, but these I leave to Robin Hays, who beats me hollow. The
clerk of our ship has translated one of Jeromio's lilts, so I'll tip you
a bit of sentiment.
"O'er the clear quiet waters
My gondola glides,
And gently it wakens
The slumbering tides.
All nature is smiling,
Beneath and above;
While earth and while heaven
Are breathing of love!
"In vain are they breathing
Earth, heaven--to me,
Though their beauty and calmness
Are whispers of thee:
For the bright sky must darken,
The earth must be grey,
Ere the deep gloom that saddens
My soul, pass away.
"But see, the last day-beam
Grows pale, ere it die;
And the dark clouds are passing
All over the sky.
I hear thy light footstep,
Thy fair form I see;
Ah! the twilight has told thee
Who watches for thee."
Towards the latter part of the ditty, which was but little relished by
the company, it was evident that Solomon had followed Grimstone's
advice, for his snoring formed a loud and most inharmonious bass to the
sweet boy-like melody of Springall's ballad.
Robin had rejoined the party, but his face and lips were of a livid
paleness, and he seemed labouring under evident distress.
"Art hurt, Robin?" inquired the stranger, who is known to us by the name
of Walter, now speaking for the first time. Robin shook his matted head
in reply.
"Something ails thee, man; something must ail thee--speak, good Robin."
"I'm neither sick, sad, nor sorry," he answered, affecting his usual
easy manner; "so here's a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull
altogether at the black jack, to the health--But pardon, I had forgotten
the wickedness of such profane customs." Yet Robin evidently did not
hold it profane to "swill the brown bowl" so eagerly, that but the lees
remained at the bottom, as he laid it down, refreshed and strengthened.
"So you won't give us a toast, Master Robin," said Springall; "well,
I'll not only give ye a toast, but I'll stand the price of a fresh jack
of double-dub for you all to drink it in; and I'll fight any man that
says it nay, besides."