“Look ’ere now, whitey,” returned Moses, “what you take me for?”

“A nigger, of course.”

“Ob course, an’ you’re right for once, which is sitch an unusual t’ing dat I ‘dvise you go an’ ax de cappen to make a note ob it in de log.  I’s a nigger, an’ a nigger’s so much more ’cute dan a white man dat you shouldn’t ought to expect him to blab his massa’s secrets.”

“Right you are, Moses.  Come, then, if you won’t reweal secrets, give us a song.”

“Couldn’t t’ink ob such a t’ing,” said the negro, with a solemn, remonstrant shake of the head.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I neber sing a song widout a moral, an’ I don’t like to hurt your feelin’s by singin’ a moral dat would be sure to waken up some o’ your consciences.”

“Never mind that, darkey.  Our consciences are pretty tough.  Heave ahead.”

“But dere’s a chorus,” said Moses, looking round doubtfully.

“What o’ that?  We’ll do our best with it—­if it ain’t too difficult.”

“Oh, it’s not diffikilt, but if de lazy fellers among you sings de chorus dey’ll be singin’ lies, an’ I don’t ’zackly like to help men to tell lies.  Howseber, here goes.  It begins wid de chorus so’s you may know it afore you has to sing it.”

So saying, Moses struck two fingers on the capstan after the manner of a tuning-fork, and, holding them gravely to his ear as if to get the right pitch, began in a really fine manly voice to chant the following ditty:—­

“GO TO WORK.”

Oh when de sun am shinin’ bright, and eberyt’ing am fair,
Clap on de steam an’ go to work, an’ take your proper share. 
De wurld hab got to go ahead, an’ dem what’s young and strong
Mus’ do deir best, wid all de rest, to roll de wurld along.

De lazy man does all he can to stop its whirlin’ round. 
If he was king he’d loaf an’ sing—­and guzzle, I’ll be bound,
He always shirk de hardest work, an’ t’ink he’s awful clebbar,
But boder his head to earn his bread, Oh! no, he’ll nebber, nebber.

                                  Chorus—­Oh when de sun, etc.

De selfish man would rader dan put out his hand to work,
Let women toil, an’ sweat and moil—­as wicked as de Turk. 
De cream ob eberyt’ing he wants, let oders hab de skim;
In fact de wurld and all it holds was only made for him.

                                  Chorus—­Oh when de sun, etc.

So keep de ball a-rollin’, boys, an’ each one do his best
To make de wurld a happy one—­for dat’s how man is blest. 
Do unto oders all around de t’ing what’s good and true,
An’ oders, ’turning tit for tat, will do de same to you.

                                  Chorus—­Oh when de sun, etc.

The sailors, who were evidently much pleased, took up the chorus moderately at the second verse, came out strong at the third, and sang with such genuine fervour at the last that it was quite evident, as Moses remarked, there was not a lazy man amongst them—­at least, if they all sang conscientiously!