There was one man on board the Casket who, more than all others, aided to keep the crew cheerful and happy. He was the life and soul of the forecastle. Not all the oppressive and unfeeling acts of the captain, and rough and unjust treatment from the mate, which would naturally excite indignation and a discontented spirit, such as sometimes will lead to insubordination on the part of the crew, followed by the free use of handspikes, rope's ends, and manacles, on the part of the officers, could repress the spirits of Jonas Silvernail, spoil his jokes, or lessen the volume of his hearty and sonorous laugh. Jonas was a native of Hudson, in New York; a young, active, intelligent sailor, who, always good-humored, was never more happy than when singing a sea song, spinning a merry yarn, or playing off a practical joke. Jonas was one of those jovial mortals who seemed determined to make sure of present enjoyment, and let the future take care of itself; to bask in the sunshine of life, while others despondingly wilt in the shade. Good humor is contagious; and it was owing to the cheerful, contented spirit, infused among the crew of the Casket by Silvernail's example, that they forbore from insolent remonstrances, and wisely resolved to bear the ills they had, rather, "Than fly to others which they knew not of." Such a man in the forecastle of a ship and in my seafaring days such men were not rare is a treasure. He lightens the labors of a crew, adds to the harmony and happiness of all on board, shortens a passage, and, as a natural consequence, promotes the interests of the owner. On one occasion, however, Silvernail's fondness for fun threatened to disturb the harmony which was wont to reign in the forecastle. Among the crew was a big, clumsy Dutchman, through whose thick cranium no joke could penetrate, and whose feet were of proportions as huge as his head, each resembling, in size and shape, a Brazilian catamaran. The men conversing one day of the dangers of the seas, and the best means of preserving life in cases of shipwreck, or when accidentally falling overboard, Hans, who cherished a strong attachment to his own dear person, expressed a regret that he had no cork jacket, by whose aid he could float above the waves. "Be under no concern on that account," remarked Jonas. "If you were in the water, a cork jacket would be of no more use to you than a pair of curling tongs to Cuffy, the black cook. But don't try to swim. TREAD WATER lustily with those mud scows (pointing to his feet) and you will never go to the bottom." "You just let my foot alone," said Hans, his face glowing with indignation. "You are always poking fun at my foot, and I don't half like it. My foot is one very good foot, (holding it up, and swaying it backwards and forwards;) just fit to kick an impudent vagabone with and teach him better manners."