_Chorus_: Here comes the fiery _Rocket_ With sportsmen smart and gay; If birds would not be shot at They'd better keep away.
When with fresh wind and flowing sheet We're flying through the foam, Our hearts with joy and gladness beat, As round the world we roam. Or in the calm and tropic night, The stars recall to mind The eyes, as beautiful and bright Of girls we've left behind.
_Chorus_: Speed on thou noble _Rocket_! Until the voyage ends, And our good fortune brings us Once more to home and friends.
Roll on ye waves, ye breezes blow, Swift speed us on our course, And soon to Asia's shores we'll show The Ensign and Black Horse.[1] And when we step on Java's strand, Our double toast shall be The glorious old bark _Rocket_, and The Romance of the sea.
_Chorus_: The _Rocket_ now we'll praise, For she's as good a craft As ever dashed aside the sprays, Or at the storm-king laughed.
The vessel had received a liberal outfit from the owners, who expressed the wish that the sailors should not be restricted to a diet of salt beef and hard bread, believing this to be the most expensive way of provisioning a ship, as well as an unsatisfactory one to the crew. Accordingly the men were allowed "soft bread" every night; there was a good supply of potatoes, onions, and beets on board, and mackerel, herrings, tongues and sounds, dried apples, corn meal, and pickles were provided, in addition to the usual supplies of rice, beans, split peas, salt codfish and the inevitable beef, pork, and "hard-tack." Molasses and vinegar were freely served out, these condiments often making a plain meal quite palatable, and one evening in a week molasses gingerbread was furnished in place of the "soft bread." In the cabin we had a tolerable supply of canned provisions and had no reason to complain. I find, however, the following entry in my journal:
"I feel a strong desire to get ashore and have something new to eat. We have a good supply of stores, but there is so much sameness necessarily in our table fare, that the very thought of meal times takes away one's appetite. We had a large stock of vegetables and still have potatoes, onions and beets, so there is no fear of scurvy. I have sometimes said that the only advantage I ever discovered in going to sea, was the ability to eat onions, without fear of offending one's associates. But after indulgence in this respect every day for three months, I feel willing to renounce this luxurious privilege of sea life, and endure the privations of civilized society for a while."