While standing wrapped in afflictive reflections on the shore, gazing towards the unattainable coast of France, a pleasant-looking cousinly stranger, in seamen’s dress, accosted him, and, after some pleasant conversation, very civilly invited him up a lane into a house of rather secret entertainment. Pleased to be befriended in this his strait, Israel yet looked inquisitively upon the man, not completely satisfied with his good intentions. But the other, with good-humored violence, hurried him up the lane into the inn, when, calling for some spirits, he and Israel very affectionately drank to each other’s better health and prosperity. “Take another glass,” said the stranger, affably. Israel, to drown his heavy-heartedness, complied. The liquor began to take effect. “Ever at sea?” said the stranger, lightly. “Oh, yes; been a whaling.” “Ah!” said the other, “happy to hear that, I assure you. Jim! Bill!” And beckoning very quietly to two brawny fellows, in a trice Israel found himself kidnapped into the naval service of the magnanimous old gentleman of Kew Gardens—his Royal Majesty, George III.—“Hands off!” said Israel, fiercely, as the two men pinioned him. “Reglar game-cock,” said the cousinly-looking man. “I must get three guineas for cribbing him. Pleasant voyage to ye, my friend,” and, leaving Israel a prisoner, the crimp, buttoning his coat, sauntered leisurely out of the inn. “I’m no Englishman,” roared Israel, in a foam. “Oh! that’s the old story,” grinned his jailers. “Come along. There’s no Englishman in the English fleet. All foreigners. You may take their own word for it.” To be short, in less than a week Israel found himself at Portsmouth, and, ere long, a foretopman in his Majesty’s ship of the line, “Unprincipled,” scudding before the wind down channel, in company with the “Undaunted,” and the “Unconquerable;” all three haughty Dons bound to the East Indian waters as reinforcements to the fleet of Sir Edward Hughs. And now, we might shortly have to record our adventurer’s part in the famous engagement off the coast of Coromandel, between Admiral Suffrien’s fleet and the English squadron, were it not that fate snatched him on the threshold of events, and, turning him short round whither he had come, sent him back congenially to war against England; instead of on her behalf. Thus repeatedly and rapidly were the fortunes of our wanderer planted, torn up, transplanted, and dropped again, hither and thither, according as the Supreme Disposer of sailors and soldiers saw fit to appoint. CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH ISRAEL IS SAILOR UNDER TWO FLAGS, AND IN THREE SHIPS, AND ALL IN ONE NIGHT.