Well we came in on a rising tide,
the sun it just became a thought.
While the wharf it burst to bustling life,
as the stevedores tallied long, and hard.
For the day the schooner held in port,
till at day’s end we sort anchorage offshore.
In the evening we made for the old Ship Inn,
high upon The Point’s old rocky hill a roving.
Drink, the conversations,
the music, all the dance.
For we have two whole weeks in port,
while we wait for the Mary Vance.
The two weeks soon they passed,
for the Mary Vance she did not show.
So we waited in port for another two,
and still the Mary Vance she did not show.
Then the call went out to search,
for the Mary Vance was lost be late.
We ships of different sizes from all around here,
we searched for her wide across the sea.
Then the message came via overland,
they failed to make it around the horn.
So we made for southern waters,
we thundered through the straits.
Till we made it to the west coast,
where we caught the Mary Vance.
Her crew were camped up in the mountains,
an extended furlough thought they might take.
As we made anchorage, a shore party we did send,
off to find the Mary Vance’s master, off to the mountains end.
After days we made the lofty tops, the ranges high,
to find no one, but all we could see east, all we could see west.
And nor a sign of the Mary Vance’s crew in sight…