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a bark [1] coming up with us, rich music stole across
the water. Was it German, Italian, Spanish or
French? All four tongues had their partisans.
But presently the psalm like tone and long drawn
minor that sounded so continental to untrained
ears ended. “Presto Change!” “Sing song Polly won’t
a ky-me-o!” that sounded familiar then we
could hear a chorus of “My ’eart, my heye” +c
and finally the original english version of
“Dixie” “I’ll live and die with Nancy.” Enjoyed
this hugely. A small meteor flashed across
the zenith. Southern Cross and Orion shone
brightly while the great Dipper pointed us once
more toward our “Pole Star,” yet below the horizon.
Retired at 9. One more item. While backing out of the
scrape with Mr. Steeple [Crown?] ran into another not
so bad. The Bark Cannata (Liverpool) slipped along
within a ships length, shaving some “brave men,” and
their “fair women.” as “wholesome” looking as one often
sees. One in particular “took my eye.” a fine young
english woman with a glass pointed directly at us
would kill at 40 yds. “Don’t shoot!” They pounced on us
unaware + threw my sails all aback in confusion