It is well that the Lord can see deep down into the hearts of men, for He has to judge them; it is well that the majority of mankind cannot, because, if they could, the world would altogether be too sorrowful to live in; and we do not think the angels can either, else they would not be happy―if they could and were they would not be angels any longer―they would be devils. Study it out on a slate.
We turned in feeling comfortably dismal, and almost wishing that we had gone down with the Dunbar.
The intoxicated shearers and the dude kept their concert up till a late hour that night―or, rather, a very early hour next morning; and at about midnight they were reinforced by the commercial traveller and Moses, the jeweller, who had been visiting acquaintances aft. This push was encouraged by voices from various bunks, and enthusiastically barracked for by a sandy-complexioned, red-headed comedian with twinkling grey eyes, who occupied the berth immediately above our own.
They stood with their backs to the bunks, and their feet braced against the deck, or lurched round, and took friendly pulls from whisky flasks, and chyacked each other, and laughed, and blowed, and lied like―like Australian bushmen; and occasionally they broke out into snatches of song―and as often broke down. Few Englishmen know more than the first verse, or two lines, of even their most popular song, and, when elevated enough to think they can sing, they repeat the first verse over and over again, with the wrong words, and with a sort of 'Ta-ra-ra-rum-ti-tooral. Ta-ra-ra-ra-rum-ti, ta-ra-ra-rum-tum-ti-rum-rum-tum-ti-dee-e-e,' by way of variation.
