Old Smith got the tune and presently the dirge of an anchor chantey echoed across the water as we bent our weight against the capstan bars.
"Paddy come back and turn in your slack,
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl.
We're leavin' Honolulu girls, and never will come back,
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl.
An' happy days all lie behind, good-bye to swipes and rum,
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl."
"Short stay, sir!" bawled the mate, and we stopped our song. The faint echo of a cheer wafted across the harbor; we recognized the hail from our friends on the British Monarch, watching to see us off.
"Break her out, sir!" answered the captain, sending his voice along the length of the ship in sharp, snappy syllables.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
At "short stay," I was ordered to the wheel and as I slipped the spokes from the beckets, the crowd at the bars again put their beef to the cable, and the anchor left bottom. The tug fastened to our quarter got her signal from the pilot; we heard the jangle of bells in her engine room; we commenced to move.
"Hard a port!" ordered the pilot.
"Hard over, sir!"
"Steady so! Steady so!" We were heading toward the old marine railway, the line of the Esplanade having swung under the jib guys with remarkable swiftness, as I turned the wheel to meet her.
"Port handsomely!" I gave her wheel. "Port, I say! Hard a port!"