“Oh, Sally Brown of New York City, Aye Sally,—Sally Brown, Of pretty Sal this is a ditty, I’ll spend my money on Sally Brown!”
So sang the men as the great anchor rose slowly to the catheads, and a moment later, the tug’s propeller churned the water and the boys saw the docks and buildings of New Bedford slipping slowly astern. The crowd on the piers and moored ships shouted and waved hats and handkerchiefs. The tug gave a farewell toot and the boys’ voyage had begun.
No sooner had the bark commenced to move down the harbor, than a magic change appeared to take place. At the wheel, one of the boat steerers stood staring ahead and deftly gave the spokes a twirl as he kept the _Hector_ to the tug’s course. Back and forth on the quarter-deck strode Captain Edwards, hands behind back and hat pulled low over his eyes. At the break of the poop, stood old Cap’n Pem, his ancient, peaked cap jammed on one side of his head, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and his bushy brows drawn together in a frown. Below him, stood the lanky second officer, Mr. Kemp, barking out sharp, quick orders. From the galley, a slender column of smoke rose upwards, showing the cook was already at work. The crew were busy here and there under the directions of the boat steerers and the carpenter was wedging down a hatch cover. It was evident that strict discipline was now in order and the boys, resolved to do their part and to act as though they were bona fide members of the crew, commenced coiling down ropes that trailed across the decks. As they did so, Mr. Kemp grinned and Cap’n Pem winked at the skipper who stopped an instant in his stride to glance at the busy boys.
Then, Cap’n Pem’s voice roared out orders to loosen sails and the two boys, anxious to show their skill and knowledge, as well as their willingness, ran nimbly up the ratlines and were the first out on the yards. One by one the great topsails were unfurled and halliards were manned.
“They call me Hanging Johnny, Away-e-Oh! They call me Hanging Johnny, So hang, boys, hang.”
Thus roared the men, and, as the boys joined in the chorus, the heavy yards rose slowly, the sails were sheeted home, and as the bark passed the harbor mouth and caught the fresh offshore wind, the tug cast off her lines, blew a parting blast on her whistle and the _Hector_, under her own canvas, headed towards the open sea.