Shouldn't
begin these things, my son."
"I shouldn't have gone down to the sea," said Dick, just a little anxious to
change the conversation. "And you shouldn't have sung."
"The sea isn't sending you five notes a day," said the Nilghai.
"No, but I'm fatally compromised. She's an enduring old hag, and I"m sorry I
ever met her. Why wasn't I born and bred and dead in a three-pair back?"
"Hear him blaspheming his first love! Why in the world shouldn't you listen to
her?" said Torpenhow.
Before Dick could reply the Nilghai lifted up his voice with a shout that shook
the windows, in "The Men of the Sea," that begins, as all know, "The sea is a
wicked old woman," and after wading through eight lines whose imagery is
truthful, ends in a refrain, slow as the clacking of a capstan when the boat
comes unwillingly up to the bars where the men sweat and tramp in the shingle.
"'Ye that bore us, O restore us! She is kinder than ye; For the call is on our
heart-strings!' Said The Men of the Sea."
The Nilghai sang that verse twice, with simple cunning, intending that Dick
should hear. But Dick was waiting for the farewell of the men to their wives.
"'Ye that love us, can ye move us? She is dearer than ye; And your sleep will
be the sweeter,' Said The Men of the Sea.
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