iting at the door,
To wed her with a goold ring, and plough the main no moor."

Here Yeo broke in--

"Aren't you ashamed, John Squire, to your years, singing such carnal
vanities, after all the providences you have seen? Let the songs of Zion
be in your mouth, man, if you must needs keep a caterwauling all day
like that."

"You sing 'em yourself then, gunner."

"Well," says Yeo, "and why not?" And out he pulled his psalm-book, and
began a scrap of the grand old psalm--

"Such as in ships and brittle barks
Into the seas descend,
Their merchandise through fearful floods
To compass and to end;
There men are forced to behold
The Lord's works what they be;
And in the dreadful deep the same,
Most marvellous they see."

"Humph!" said John Squire. "Very good and godly: but still I du like
a merry catch now and then, I du. Wouldn't you let a body sing
'Rumbelow'--even when he's heaving of the anchor?"

"Well, I don't know," said Yeo; "but the Lord's people had better
praise the Lord then too, and pray for a good voyage, instead of howling
about--

"A randy, dandy, dandy O,
A whet of ale and brandy O,
With a rumbelow and a Westward-ho!
And heave, my mariners all, O!"

"Is that fit talk for immortal souls? How does that child's-trade sound
beside the Psalms, John Squire?"

Now it befell that Salvation Yeo, for the very purpose of holding up to
ridicule that time-honored melody, had put into it the true nasal twang,
and rung it out as merrily as he had done perhaps twelve years before,
when he got up John Oxenham's anchor in Plymouth Sound. And it befell
also that Ayacanora, as she stood by Amyas's side, watching the men, and
trying to make out their chat, heard it, and started; and then, half to
herself, took up the strain, and sang it over again, word for word, in
the very same tune and tone.

Salvation Yeo started in his turn, and turned deadly pale.

"Who sung that?" he asked quickly.

"The little maid here. She's coming on nicely in her English," said
Amyas.

"The little maid?" said Yeo, turning paler still. "Why do you go about
to scare an old servant, by talking of little maids, Captain Amyas?
Well," he said aloud to himself, "as I am a sinful saint, if I hadn't
seen where the voice came from, I could have sworn it was her; just as
we taught her to sing it by the river there, I and William Penberthy of
Marazion, my go