"Hoist all sails!" The bosun called as the ship crept out of the safety of the harbor. The men on board were quick to obey the orders. They chanted in unison as they worked the sails, the call and the rhythm setting the pace. There was a chant for leaving the harbor and for coming in. There were many for short hauls, for halyarding , and for the capstan.
Men scuttled up the netting and out onto the yardarms, loosing the sails that would catch the wind. The men below hauled on the lines to put them in place.
The breeze was freshening and the day promising. The perfect day to be off on the sea; to wherever the wind and currents took them. The old men and the young men alike raised their voices in the chant to raise the sails. The broad squares of white cloth boomed as the wind caught them, filling and rapidly baring the ship away into the horizon.
Ryan pulled with the others, raising his clear tenor voice with the others. They were leaving and their song echoed over the sea.
In the Black Ball line I served my time
To me way-aye-aye, hurray-ah
And that's the line where you can shine
Hurrah for the Black Ball Line
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