Volume 62 — "COME ABOARD, SIR!"

"Come aboard, Sir!" to the Captain Says John Bright, A.B, As he touches his tarpaulin, Smart and sailorly. And the watch look pleased as Punches, Officers and men, For A.B.'s like John are always Welcome back again! Over deck, and spars, and rigging John he slues his eye; Gives a seaman's squint to leeward, Scanning sea and sky; At the binnacle he glances, Notes the course she steers; Nought on board or in the offing, Scapes his eyes and ears. For the ship has seen hard weather, And some people say; Captain Gladstone ain't the man he Was the other day: And if you believe the croakers, Officers and crew, Don't pull with a will together, As they used to do. Certain 'tis, since John Bright left her, His sick leave to take, The old craft, in last year's cruising, Had an ugly shake. Made poor day's-works, too much lee-way; Badly fouled her screw: Scraped her copper, if she didn't Start a plate or two. Certain 'tis, with crew and captain, Officers also, Things don't go on quite as pleasant As they used to go. There's been some high-handed doings, Some quite the reverse; Some's took sick, and some's took sulky; Some took soft, or worse. There's sea-lawyers—donkey-engines Can't their slack haul in; You may stop their grog, you'll never Stop the yarns they spin: There's your discontented beggars, Nothing e'er can please; There's your pennywise 'uns, nibbling At the dips and cheese. There's your mutineers, for mischief Ripe 'gainst flag and Crown; Never pleased unless they're turning 'Tween-decks upside down. There's your Queen's bad bargains, shirking Work, whoever strain: Trimmers Cox's traverse working— "There and back again." Green-hands, as can't fudge a reckoning, Of a watch in charge; Looking after the Britannia, And can't steer a barge! For the Captain has his fancies— When he's picked a man For a job, whoe'er can't do it, He's the chap as can. Anyway the ship's the better By a good A.B., Now John Bright is all a-taunto, And come back to sea. Be't to talk to the blue-jackets Like a 'cute old salt; Con the ship, or call the soundings, Hide or slang a fault— On the yardarm, big guns blowing, Weather ear-ring take; With bright yarns, to keep the watches Spry and wide-awake; So as to give cyclones the go-by, Safest course to steer; Canvas when to spread, when shorten, With a lee-shore near— No A.B. in the Britannia Better knows than John: Which let's hope that Captain G. will Take his advice thereon. Well we know that now John's buckled To his work again, 'Twill for officers be better, And for ship and men!