Recently I re-read Two Years Before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana, Jr. with finding references to music and sea chanties in mind. (The book describes a voyage that began in 1834.) Compared with what I've found in other late 19th century and early 20th century sailor memoirs, there are surprisingly many references to specific songs. For the benefit of anyone who'd like the "Cliff's Notes" version, here are my notes on where these references appear. Quoted text appears in blue italics, clicking on the blue italic text links to the individual quotations in the context of the chapters in which they appear. They will pop up in a new window (or tab, depending on what browser you are using). Page numbers refer to the April 2009 Signet Classics edition.
If you are cheap or just like to read online you can download a text version of the entire book from Project Gutenberg here, they have two different editions, but note that neither is identical to the Signet Classics edition: http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/4277
The "singing out" described probably refers to the sort of "sing outs" described in "Shanties from the Seven Seas," by Stan Hugill. (1994 Mystic Seaport Museum reprint at pages 394-402.)
In this chapter, one of the sailors is unjustly flogged by the captain. The crew, unhappy about this, foregoes singing for amusement on Saturday evening:
After the day's work was done, we went down into the forecastle, and ate our plain supper; but not a word was spoken. It was Saturday night; but there was no song--no "sweethearts and wives." A gloom was over everything.
Later in the chapter, Dana explains that when a crew is working "with a will" the crew will sing at their work which makes it go on more smoothly. But because the crew is unhappy about the flogging they do not sing and do not work quickly:
Where things are "done with a will," every one is like a cat aloft: sails are loosed in an instant; each one lays out his strength on his handspike, and the windlass goes briskly round with the loud cry of "Yo heave ho! Heave and pawl! Heave hearty ho!" and the chorus of "Cheerly, men!" cats the anchor. But with us, at this time, it was all dragging work. No one went aloft beyond his ordinary gait, and the chain came slowly in over the windlass. The mate, between the knight-heads, exhausted all his official rhetoric, in calls of "Heave with a will!"--"Heave hearty, men!--heave hearty!"--"Heave and raise the dead!"--"Heave, and away!" etc., etc.; but it would not do. Nobody broke his back or his hand-spike by his efforts. And when the cat-tackle-fall was strung along, and all hands--cook, steward, and all--laid hold, to cat the anchor, instead of the lively song of "Cheerily, men!" in which all hands join in the chorus, we pulled a long, heavy, silent pull, and--as sailors say a song is as good as ten men--the anchor came to the cat-head pretty slowly. "Give us 'Cheerily!'" said the mate; but there was no "cheerily" for us, and we did without it. The captain walked the quarterdeck, and said not a word. He must have seen the change, but there was nothing which he could notice officially.
Dana explains that Ayacucho was bound to Callao and then on to the Sandwich Islands. It is described in detail in chapter 9 (page 49) as a 300-ton English-flagged brig built in Guayaquil (in Ecuador), owned and captained by a Scotsman named Wilson. It was engaged in trade between Callao in Peru, Hawaii, and California, and carried a crew of Hawaiian Islanders.
In this chapter, the activities of the crew of an Italian ship are described, they are very musical:
Soon after breakfast, a large boat, filled with men in blue jackets, scarlet caps, and various-colored under-clothes, bound ashore on liberty, left the Italian ship, and passed under our stern, the men singing beautiful Italian boat-songs all the way, in fine, full chorus. Among the songs I recognized the favorite, "O Pescator dell' onda."
"Hultonclint" on YouTube once very cogently pointed out to me that Dana's describing what the Italians were doing as different from what they were doing on the ship Dana was on (the "Pilgrim") says as much about what they were doing on the Pilgrim as it does about the Italians. The implication of this is that the songs used for working on Dana's ship were less melodic than the songs used by the Italians.
In this chapter, among other things Dana describes the shoreside musical amusements of the crew of the Pilgrim and the crews of the other ships in the evening. At this point in the story, many of the sailors were staying in tents on shore near the hide warehouses that belonged to their various shops.
Several of the Italians slept on shore at their hide-house; and there, and at the tent in which the Fazio's crew lived, we had some very good singing almost every evening. The Italians sang a variety of songs--barcarollas, provincial airs, etc.; in several of which I recognized parts of our favorite operas and sentimental songs. They often joined in a song, taking all the different parts; which produced a fine effect, as many of them had good voices, and all seemed to sing with spirit and feeling. One young man, in particular, had a falsetto as clear as a clarionet.
In this chapter, Dana has left the brig Pilgrim and is now on the Alert. The use of chanties as well as music used for amusement is mentioned in this chapter.
The yards were then trimmed, the anchor weighed, the cat-block hooked on, the fall stretched out, manned by "all hands and the cook," and the anchor brought to the head with "cheerily men!" in full chorus.
This chapter has more references to chanties, and with greater detail than anywhere else in the book. It is also here that the process of loading hides is described in detail. This is significant, because many people believe that many chanties were originally cargo-loading songs that were adapted to shipboard use.
The sailors' songs for capstans and falls are of a peculiar kind, having a chorus at the end of each line. The burden is usually sung by one alone, and, at the chorus, all hands join in,-- and, the louder the noise, the better. With us, the chorus seemed almost to raise the decks of the ship, and might be heard at a great distance ashore. A song is as necessary to sailors as the drum and fife to a soldier. They must pull together as soldiers must step in time, and they can't pull in time, or pull with a will, without it. Many a time, when a thing goes heavy, with one fellow yo-ho-ing, a lively song, like "Heave, to the girls!" "Nancy O!" "Jack Crosstree," "Cheerly, men," &c., has put life and strength into every arm. We found a great difference in the effect of the various songs in driving in the hides. Two or three songs would be tried, one after the other, with no effect,-- not an inch could be got upon the tackles; when a new song, struck up, seemed to hit the humor of the moment, and drove the tackles "two blocks" at once. "Heave round hearty!" "Captain gone ashore!" "Dandy ship and a dandy crew," and the like, might do for common pulls, but on an emergency, when we wanted a heavy, "raise-the-dead pull," which should start the beams of the ship, there was nothing like "Time for us to go!" "Round the corner," "Tally high ho! you know," or "Hurrah! hurrah! my hearty bullies!"
"Perhaps, like me, he struggles with
Each feeling of regret;
But if he's loved as I have loved,
He never can forget!"
The song of the Hawaiian Islanders is briefly described:
Old "Mr. Bingham" and "King Mannini" went down to the boat with me, shook me heartily by the hand, wished us a good voyage, and went back to the oven [a building in which the Hawaiian Islanders lived], chanting one of their deep, monotonous, improvised songs, the burden of which I gathered to be about us and our voyage.
Lastly, the crew does not sing when making a disappointing and embarrassing second attempt to leave the harbor after getting hung up on a sandbar:
In about half an hour, which was near high water, the order was given to man the windlass, and again the anchor was catted; but there was no song, and not a word was said about the last time.
In this chapter, the crew sings happily at their work:
Our spirits returned with having something to do; and when the tackle was manned to bowse the anchor home, notwithstanding the desolation of the scene, we struck up "Cheerly, men!" in full chorus. This pleased the mate, who rubbed his hands and cried out, "That's right, my boys; never say die! That sounds like the old crew!" and the captain came up, on hearing the song, and said to the passenger, within hearing of the man at the wheel, "That sounds like a lively crew. They'll have their song so long as there're enough left for a chorus!"
(Note, some editions of the book give the name of the song as "Cheerily ho!")
In this chapter, the ship is homeward bound and because the crew are happy, a lot of singing is called for.
"Cheerly Men!" continues to be popular:
When we came to mast-head the topsail yards, with all hands at the halyards, we struck up "Cheerly, men," with a chorus which might have been heard half-way to Staten Land.
Those who are familiar with the C. Fox Smith poem "Towrope Girls" or Tom Lewis' song setting that poem to music will be interested to see that the idea dates back at least to Dana's time:
The captain walked the deck at a rapid stride, looked aloft at the sails, and then to windward; the mate stood in the gangway, rubbing his hands, and talking aloud to the ship, "Hurrah, old bucket! the Boston girls have got hold of the tow-rope!" and the like; and we were on the forecastle, looking to see how the spars stood it, and guessing the rate at which she was going, when the captain called out "Mr. Brown, get up the topmast studding-sail! What she can't carry she may drag!"
And:
At each change of the watch, those coming on deck asked those going below, "How does she go along?" and got, for answer, the rate, and the customary addition, "Aye! and the Boston girls have had hold of the tow-rope all the watch." Every day the sun rose higher in the horizon, and the nights grew shorter; and at coming on deck each morning there was a sensible change in the temperature. The ice, too, began to melt from off the rigging and spars, and, except a little which remained in the tops and round the hounds of the lower masts, was soon gone. As we left the gale behind us, the reefs were shaken out of the topsails, and sail made as fast as she could bear it; and every time all hands were sent to the halyards a song was called for, and we hoisted away with a will.
The book goes on for three more chapters, but that's about it for references to sea chanties and maritime tunes.
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Copyright K. Whisler 2010.