HAZARDS AND COMPENSATIONS 215 



Oh, the whale is free, of the boundless sea; 



He lives for a thousand years; 



He sinks to rest on the billow's breast. 



Nor the roughest tempest fears. 



The howling blast, as it rushes past, 



Is music to lull him to sleep: 



And he scatters the spray in his boisterous play, 



As he dashes — the King of the deep. — Sea Song. 



The whaling industry itself, however, nurtured certain 

 rough-and-ready versifiers, the "minstrel boys," who extem- 

 porized verse after verse of the chantey songs while the crews 

 rolled out the boisterous and endlessly-repeated choruses. 

 These spontaneous outbursts of accentuated rhythm, always 

 robust and often uncouth, seldom attained any set form. In- 

 stead, in true minstrel fashion, they were transmitted by word 

 of mouth; and each recipient reserved the right to adapt the 

 matter to please his own fancies. Now and again, however, 

 one of the widely known songs was committed to writing, and 

 thus saved from oblivion. Of this group "Captain Bunker," 

 termed by a mid-century writer "a good specimen of sea-spun 

 poetry," is perhaps as characteristic as any other. ^^ 



Captain Bunker 



Our captain stood upon the deck, 



A spyglass in his hand, 



A viewing of those gallant whales, 



That blowed at every strand. 



"Get your tubs in your boats, my boys, 



And by your braces stand, 



And we'll have one of those gallant whales, 



Hand, boys, over hand!" 



Chorus 



So be cheery, my lads! let your hearts never fail 

 While the bold harfooner is a striking of the whale. 



"Overhaul, overhaul! 



Your davit-tackles fall, 



Till you land your boats in the sea 



12 This "poem" is reproduced in Browne, J. R., "Etchings of 9 Whaling 

 Cruise," p. 77, 



