“The Battery Point, the Race beyond,
          Just as to-day you see;
        This was, I think, the very stone
          Where sat Dick, Dolly, and me;
        She was our little sister, sirs,
          A small child, just turned three.

        “And Dick was mighty fond of her: 
          Though a big lad and bold,
        He’d carry her like any nurse,
          Almost from birth, I’m told;
        For mother sickened soon, and died
          When Doll was eight months old.

        “We sat and watched a little boat,
          Her name the ‘Tricksy Jane,’
        A queer old tub laid up ashore,
          But we could see her plain. 
        To see her and not haul her up
          Cost us a deal of pain.

        “Said Dick to me, ’Let’s have a pull;
          Father will never know: 
        He’s busy in his wheat up there,
          And cannot see us go;
        These landsmen are such cowards if
          A puff of wind does blow.

        “’I’ve been to France and back three times—­
          Who knows best, dad or me,
        Whether a ship’s seaworthy or not? 
          Dolly, wilt go to sea?’
        And Dolly laughed and hugged him tight,
          As pleased as she could be.

        “I don’t mean, sirs, to blame poor Dick: 
          What he did, sure I’d do;
        And many a sail in ‘Tricksy Jane’
          We’d had when she was new. 
        Father was always sharp; and what
          He said, he meant it too.

        “But now the sky had not a cloud,
          The bay looked smooth as glass;
        Our Dick could manage any boat,
          As neat as ever was. 
        And Dolly crowed, ‘Me go to sea!’
          The jolly little lass!

        “Well, sirs, we went:  a pair of oars;
          My jacket for a sail: 
        Just round ’Old Harry and his Wife’—­
          Those rocks there, within hail;
        And we came back.——­D’ye want to hear
          The end o’ the old man’s tale?

        “Ay, ay, we came back past that point,
          But then a. breeze up-sprung;
        Dick shouted, ‘Hoy! down sail!’ and pulled
          With all his might among
        The white sea-horses that upreared
          So terrible and strong.

        “I pulled too:  I was blind with fear;
          But I could hear Dick’s breath
        Coming and going, as he told
          Dolly to creep beneath
        His jacket, and not hold him so: 
          We rowed for life or death.

        “We almost reached the sheltered bay,
          We could see father stand
        Upon the little jetty here,
          His sickle in his hand;
        The houses white, the yellow fields,
          The safe and pleasant land.