The men form on either side of the
rope to be hauled, and walk away with it like firemen marching with
their engine. When the headmost pair bring up at the stern or bow,
they part, and the two streams flow back to the starting point,
outside the following files. Thus in this perpetual
'follow-my-leader' way the work is done, with more precision and
steadiness than in the merchant service. Merchantmen are invariably
manned with the least possible number, and often go to sea
short-handed, even according to the parsimonious calculations of
their owners. The only way the heavier work can be done at all is
by each man doing his utmost at the same moment. This is regulated
by the song. And here is the true singing of the deep sea. It is
not recreation; it is an essential part of the work. It mastheads
the topsail yards, on making sail; it starts the anchor from the
domestic or foreign mud; it 'rides down the main tack with a will;'
it breaks out and takes on board a cargo; it keeps the pumps (the
ship's, not the sailor's) going. A good voice and a new and
stirring chorus are worth an extra man. And there is plenty of need
of both.
'I remember well one black night in the mid-Atlantic, when we were
beating up against a stiff breeze, coming on deck near midnight,
just as the ship was put about.
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