was the fickle wind, for a slashing outward passage might be
followed by weeks of beating home to the westward. Steadily
forging ahead to the beat of her paddles or the thrash of her
screw, the steamer even of that day was far more dependable than
the sailing vessel. The Lightning clipper might run a hundred
miles farther in twenty-four hours than ever a steamer had done,
but she could not maintain this meteoric burst of speed. Upon the
heaving surface of the Western Ocean there was enacted over again
the fable of the hare and the tortoise.

Most of the famous chanteys were born in the packet service and
shouted as working choruses by the tars of this Western Ocean
before the chanteyman perched upon a capstan and led the refrain
in the clipper trade. You will find their origin unmistakable in
such lines as these:

As I was a-walking down Rotherhite Street,
'Way, ho, blow the man down;
A pretty young creature I chanced for to meet,
Give me some time to blow the man down.
Soon we'll be in London City,
Blow, boys, blow,
And see the gals all dressed so pretty,
Blow, my bully boys, blow.


Haunting melodies, folk-song as truly as that of the plantation
negro, they vanished from the sea with a breed of men who, for
all their faults, possessed the valor of the Viking and the
fortitude of the Spartan. Outcasts ashore--which meant to them