“I’m a jolly, jolly tar,
  Wot has comed from afar,
  An’ it’s all for to seek my fortin”—­

sang Buzzby.  “But I’ve not found it yit,” he continued, breaking into prose, “and there don’t seem much prospect o’ findin’ it here anyhow.  Wot an ’orrible cold place it is, ugh!”

Buzzby was received with enthusiastic cheers, for he was dressed in the old familiar blue jacket, white ducks, pumps, and straw hat set jauntily on one side of his head—­a costume which had not been seen for so many months by the crew of the Dolphin, that their hearts warmed to it as if it were an old friend.

Buzzby acted with great spirit, and was evidently a prime favourite.  He could scarcely recollect a word of his part, but he remembered the general drift of it, and had ready wit enough to extemporize.  Having explained that he was the only survivor of a shipwrecked crew, he proceeded to tell some of his adventures in foreign lands, and afterwards described part of his experiences in a song, to which the doctor played an accompaniment behind the scenes.  The words were composed by himself, sung to the well-known Scotch air, “Corn Riggs,” and ran as follows:—­

THE JOLLY TAR.

    My comrades, you must know
    It was many years ago
  I left my daddy’s cottage in the greenwood O! 
    And I jined a man-o’-war
    An’ became a jolly tar,
  An’ fought for king and country on the high seas O! 
          Pull, boys, cheerily, our home is on the sea
          Pull, boys, merrily and lightly O! 
          Pull, boys, cheerily, the wind is passing free
          An’ whirling up the foam an’ water sky-high O!

    There’s been many a noble fight,
    But Trafalgar was the sight
  That beat the Greeks and Romans in their glory O! 
    For Britain’s jolly sons
    Worked the thunder-blazing guns,
  And Nelson stood the bravest in the fore-front O! 
          Pull, boys, etc.

    A roaring cannon shot
    Came an’ hit the very spot
  Where my leg goes click-an’-jumble in the socket O! 
    And swept it overboard
    With the precious little hoard
  Of pipe an’ tin an’ baccy in the pocket O! 
          Pull, boys, etc.

    They took me down below,
    An’ they laid me with a row
  Of killed and wounded messmates on a table O! 
    Then up comes Dr. Keg,
    An’ says, Here’s a livin’ leg
  I’ll sew upon the stump if I am able O! 
          Pull, boys, etc.

  This good and sturdy limb
    Had belonged to fightin’ Tim,
  An’ scarcely had they sewed it on the socket O! 
    When up the hatch I flew,
    An’ dashed among the crew,
    An’ sprang on board the Frenchman like a rocket O! 
      Pull, boys, etc.

    ’Twas this that gained the day,
    For that leg it cleared the way—­
  And the battle raged like fury while it lasted O! 
    Then ceased the shot and shell
    To fall upon the swell,
  And the Union Jack went bravely to the mast-head O!’
      Pull, boys, etc.