THE GAM. 191 



The job being done, it counted one, 

 And lasted from twelve till four, 

 And what was fearful to relate, 

 We sank the French Commodore ! 



4 Now five sailors we picked up were Frenchmen, 

 And six were from haughty Spain. 

 We picked them up from off the wreck, 

 That had floated from the main. 

 Soon we'll send them to proud France, 

 Where they had been before, 

 To tell the proud French admiral 

 We sank his Commodore." 



The singer wound up his song with a lusty 

 cadenza that made the forecastle fairly shiver 

 with its vibrant, tragic resonance. It was easy 

 to see that Four-decker considered himself entirely 

 responsible for the sinking of the Commodore. 

 You would have thought it his habit, had you 

 heard him sing, to engage a foreign corvette or 

 sloop-of-war every ten or fifteen minutes. 



There was a hearty round of applause, much 

 kicking of heels against sea-chests and a prodi- 

 gious clapping of hardened hands, but no verbal 

 suggestion of an encore. A whaleman never dips 

 his colors to man-of-war service. 



It was a trying moment, but Four-decker was 

 quick to see the dignified way of escape out of 

 his embarrassment. 



" Now, Bilge," he said, with an assumption of 

 fervent enthusiasm, "it's your trick at the wheel!" 



