'We don't want to fight, but, by Jingo, if we do,' was in
some measure saved by the vigour and unanimity with which the chorus
was thrown forth into the night. I observed a Platt-Deutsch mason,
entirely innocent of English, adding heartily to the general effect.
And perhaps the German mason is but a fair example of the sincerity
with which the song was rendered; for nearly all with whom I
conversed upon the subject were bitterly opposed to war, and
attributed their own misfortunes, and frequently their own taste for
whisky, to the campaigns in Zululand and Afghanistan.
Every now and again, however, some song that touched the pathos of
our situation was given forth; and you could hear by the voices that
took up the burden how the sentiment came home to each, 'The Anchor's
Weighed' was true for us. We were indeed 'Rocked on the bosom of the
stormy deep.' How many of us could say with the singer, 'I'm lonely
to-night, love, without you,' or, 'Go, some one, and tell them from
me, to write me a letter from home'! And when was there a more
appropriate moment for 'Auld Lang Syne' than now, when the land, the
friends, and the affections of that mingled but beloved time were
fading and fleeing behind us in the vessel's wake? It pointed
forward to the hour when these labours should be overpast, to the
return voyage, and to many a meeting in the sanded inn, when those
who had parted in the spring of youth should again drink a cup of
kindness in their age.
Pages:
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44