human
Look here, said Joe Cross, at last,
gpt
Who's a-going to sing with the water dripping down out of his toes?
human
Why, you, mate, cried Joe.
gpt
There, get on with you. You chaps as knows the best songs always wants the most stirring up, pretending to be bashful, when you want to begin all the time!
human
I tell you I don't, mate. I'm too cold.
gpt
Then heave ahead, and that'll warm you up. You tell him he is to sing, Mr Rodd, sir. You're skipper now, and he must obey orders. It'll do us all good.
human
Well, said Rodd,
gpt
Ay, ay, sir!
human
Am I to, Mr Rodd? said the man appealingly; and after a little more pressing he struck up in a good musical tenor the old-fashioned sea song of
gpt
The Mermaid,
human
We jolly sailor boys were up, up aloft, And the land lubbers lying down below, below, below, And the land lubbers lying down below!