It was a desperate case, only as desperate a remedy could serve. One thing was sure, he could not hide. Some audacious parade of himself promised the only hope. Marking that the sailors, not being of the regular navy, wore no uniform, and perceiving that his jacket was the only garment on him which bore any distinguishing badge, our adventurer took it off, and privily dropped it overboard, remaining now in his dark blue woollen shirt and blue cloth waistcoat. What the more inspirited Israel to the added step now contemplated, was the circumstance that the ship was not a Frenchman’s or other foreigner, but her crew, though enemies, spoke the same language that he did. So very quietly, at last, he goes aloft into the maintop, and sitting down on an old sail there, beside some eight or ten topmen, in an off-handed way asks one for tobacco. “Give us a quid, lad,” as he settled himself in his seat. “Halloo,” said the strange sailor, “who be you? Get out of the top! The fore and mizzentop men won’t let us go into their tops, and blame me if we’ll let any of their gangs come here. So, away ye go.” “You’re blind, or crazy, old boy,” rejoined Israel. “I’m a topmate; ain’t I, lads?” appealing to the rest. “There’s only ten maintopmen belonging to our watch; if you are one, then there’ll be eleven,” said a second sailor. “Get out of the top!” “This is too bad, maties,” cried Israel, “to serve an old topmate this way. Come, come, you are foolish. Give us a quid.” And, once more, with the utmost sociability, he addressed the sailor next to him. “Look ye,” returned the other, “if you don’t make away with yourself, you skulking spy from the mizzen, we’ll drop you to deck like a jewel-block.” Seeing the party thus resolute, Israel, with some affected banter, descended. The reason why he had tried the scheme—and, spite of the foregoing failure, meant to repeat it—was this: As customary in armed ships, the men were in companies allotted to particular places and functions. Therefore, to escape final detection, Israel must some way get himself recognized as belonging to some one of those bands; otherwise, as an isolated nondescript, discovery ere long would be certain, especially upon the next general muster. To be sure, the hope in question was a forlorn sort of hope, but it was his sole one, and must therefore be tried. Mixing in again for a while with the general watch, he at last goes on the forecastle among the sheet-anchor-men there, at present engaged in critically discussing the merits of the late valiant encounter, and expressing their opinion that by daybreak the enemy in chase would be hull-down out of sight. “To be sure she will,” cried Israel, joining in with the group, “old ballyhoo that she is, to be sure. But didn’t we pepper her, lads? Give us a chew of tobacco, one of ye. How many have we wounded, do ye know? None killed that I’ve heard of. Wasn’t that a fine hoax we played on ’em? Ha! ha! But give us a chew.”