Books Notated Music Ship Beverly. Sold wholesale and retail by L. Deming, No. 62 Hanover Street, Boston
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COME all you young men that delight in the sea,
If you'll stop for a moment and listen to me,
Advice I will give you, do pray stop at home,
And not leave your trades, the sea for to roam.
The ship I once belong'd to, was a ship of great same,
She sail'd round the world, the Beverly was her name,
She had a rich cargo, as I have heard them say,
She was bound to a port in South America.
On the 17th of October, from Boston we did sail,
Bound to Valparaiso with a sweet pleasant gale,
With 29 souls on board, and they all in good cheer,
We fired a salute and away we did steer.
We passed by the Castle, the wind being free,
And about the hour of four, Cape Cod we did see,
But little did we think how hard was our fate,
If we liv'd, what bad news we should have to relate.
Nothing did occur more than common to relate,
Until the 18th of November, which was our hard fate,
Our ship she caught fire, which caused us to lament,
Our precious lives to save then, to work we all went.
We cut away our decks by our captain's desire,
And did our best endeavour to put out the fire,
Our head pump we did work, and water we did throw,
Until we found it in vain, then aft we did go.
Some turn'd their attention, the boats for to clear,
While others went below, provisions to prepare,
Four small casks of water, we fill'd in great haste,
And often times we wanted the water we did waste.
Our boats being lumber'd with as much as they could bear,
Our ship to abandon, all hands did prepare,
Our boats they being mann'd, we dropt them astern,
And with watery eyes we look'd to see our ship burn,
Thinking that some vessel the flames they might see,
And help us poor souls, from approaching destiny,
But to our sad misfortunes, nothing did appear,
At 12 o'clock we left the wreck, for the Brazils we did steer.
Our crew were divided in three small boats,
The whale-boat was the smallest, she'd hardly keep afloat;
Our captain and officers consulted all together,
Saying she would not live, if we had bad weather.
Then our captain was about to let the whale-boat go,
But we thought it better to be in three boats than two,
Then five seamen and carpenter, the small boat did take,
They did not expect to reach land, her leaks were so great.
Then we bid farewell and parted, each boat took her way,
The small boat we kept on wind, as near as she would lay,
With fourteen gallons of water, and little bread had we,
And fifteen hundred miles we had to cross the raging sea.
One gill and a half of water was our allowance for the day,
A piece of bread so small that it on our thumb might lay;
Although we had no commander, we never disagreed,
What one said was always done, and nothing more was said.
The third day after we parted, just at the break of day,
The man that was a steering, these joyful words did say,
There is a sail to windward, a brig I do believe,
Then Union down, we show'd our flag, but would not us relieve.
Then we down sail and pull'd till within pistol shot,
Till we could plainly see her men, one on the topsail sat,
And some in the lee gangway, walking fore and aft,
But they would not take notice of our poor little craft.
Our feelings they were hurt, my readers you may know,
To see relief so near at hand, then from us for to go,
The name that was upon her stern, we could not perceive,
But by her hull and canvass, she was English, I believe.
Despairing now of all relief, and almost at a stand,
Our boat she leak'd too bad for us to reach the land,
But He that rules the raging waves, he kindly lent his hand,
Our little boat he kept afloat, and took us safe to land.
On the first of December, which was the joyful day,
We are in coloured water, some of the crew did say,
With joyful eyes and lighten'd hearts, we lookd oer and oer,
Then gave God thanks that we saw the sandy Brazil shore.
We sail'd along the land till 4 oclock that day,
We had better land for water, some of us did say,
There is a bay ahead of us a sandy beach also,
Come let us land upon the sand, the boat won't hurt I know.
Then we landed all in safety, upon this sandy beach,
And crossing over a little hill, fresh water we did reach,
The fruit trees all around, were to us a pleasing sight,
We fill'd our kegs and launchd our boat, for it was almost night.
Our Carpenter he would not go any further in the boat,
For in landing she got injur'd so shed hardly keep afloat,
We kept in by the land till 10 o'clock next day,
Then we saw a brig a head of us, at anchor she did lay.
We run along side of her and were welcomed by the crew,
They sent with us a pilot, that took us to Curraco,
We arrived in the village, about the hour of three,
And to our great surprise, the long boat we did see.
Our supercargo, chief mate, and two passengers likewise,
And nine of our crew we received with joy and surprise,
The cook he was burnt so bad, his life they could not save,
And the same day that we parted he met a watery grave.
Some said that we were pirates, for that could never be,
That two small boats should come so far across the raging sea;
Then our sails and oars they quickly took away,
And for 30 days as prisoners in this place we had to stay.
The people told the commandant not to let us go,
Till proofs of our character, further we did show,
But our generous supercargo, Israel Whitney was his name,
He would no longer bear it, then resolute became.
Then our supercargo and a passenger to Seara went by land
A journey of ten days through a dismal woods and sand,
When he procured our liberty, he quickly did return,
He came by water to Curraco upon a Cadamaran.
On the 2d day of January, we sailed from Curraco,
Bound to the port of Maranham, to see what we could do,
And there we found our Consul who used us very kind,
And the remainder of our crew there in safety we did find.
Then we all rejoiced together, and drank a glass also,
Then some of the boys, for sport, a swimming did go,
A young man by the name of Phillips, it was his hard fate
To be killed by a shark, most shocking to relate.
Now to conclude and make an end to my ship burning song,
I hope to stop on shore myself before it be long,
Now all of you that have a wat'ry mind, a warning take by me,
And never leave your homes to plough the raging sea.
Sold, wholesale and retail, by L. Deming, No. 62, Hanover Street, 2d. door from Friend Street, Boston.