weather-beaten man-of-war’s man or privateersman sings lustily:
"Then we'll sling the flowing bowl.
Fond hopes arise;
The girls we prize
Shall bless each jovial soul.
For the can, boys, bring:
We’ll dance and sing,
While the foaming billows roll," —
or "Jack, the Lad," "Black-eyed Susan," or the song Jack likes the best — "The Girl I Left Behind Me."
They were glad to see me home again, — mother, brothers, sisters, and friends, — and we had a jolly time together once more. The very next day, however, I took a cruise on the wharves and visited old Titcomb’s shipping office. He told me shipping was very dull and rates low, but offered me a boat steerer’s berth with a very high lay on board a whaler. This almost persuaded me to ship, but while on Constitution Wharf, my eye caught sight of a man-of-war brig lying at anchor in the stream off the Navy Yard, Charlestown. The following day I paid the Yard a visit. While viewing the brig, I saw the boatswain in a boat ahead of her, squaring the yards by the lifts and braces. She proved to be the ten-gun brig Porpoise. She sat like a duck on the water, and looked as trim and neat as a young lady in her Sunday rig. I must confess that I was fairly carried away with her and bewitched with her rakish looks. I was suddenly awakened from my dream by a gentle tap on the shoulder from an officer who proved to be Captain Ramsey, commander of the handsome brig.
