After the play was over, we came down to the Jolly Tar, and stepped in to take a parting glass, as I intended going on board in one of the wherries, several of which were moored near by, the watermen having a little watch-house, or shanty, where they could make themselves comfortable and where one or more of them could be found, ready for a job, at all hours of the night. It was getting late, and the public house was deserted and quiet, though not yet closed. There was no one in the bar when we entered, but a single small lamp was burning on a shelf. As Ashton was a boarder in the house, he was perfectly at home there, and he passed through into a back room to call some one to attend to our wants at the bar. While waiting for him, I saw the form of a stout man pass across the doorway, and disappear by a narrow entry or passage leading towards the back of the house. I saw that he had on a blue flannel shirt, such as English seamen usually wear, and supposing him to be a boarder about retiring for the night, gave no further thought to the matter. The landlord made his appearance to wait upon us, and, after taking our parting nip, we lingered a moment outside under the little veranda in front. "There's a strange sail in these waters," said Ashton. "Did you see the man who went out at the back door while you stood in the bar?" "Yes, I saw a man," I answered; "but thought he was one of the regular crew of the house. I shouldn't know him again if I met him, for I only had a glimpse of him for a moment, and that by a dim light." "Well, that," said he, "is a runaway convict--I beg his pardon--a government man. He doesn't know me, but his face is familiar to me, for I have seen him several times at work; in the chain-gang, too. I suppose our landlord is hiding him, and he will lurk round here till he gets a chance to escape into the bush, or else to get on board of some vessel. However, it is none of my business. If he can make his escape, why, let him, I say." "Well, so do I," I replied. "I don't think either of us would turn informer for the sake of the reward that may be offered for him. Well, good-night." I hailed a waterman, and in a few minutes was on board the Arethusa. We were ready for sea within a few days after this occurrence, and, though we had enjoyed our stay at this port, we were all impatient to lift our anchor for the last time, as we hoped, before dropping it off Nantucket Bar. Peter, the Mani Kanaka, took his discharge here, as he had no desire to go to America, and had been offered a chance as boatsteerer in a Sydney whaler. I could not help feeling deeply at parting with the brave fellow, who had stood by me so faithfully in the adventure at Dominica, and whom I should probably never see again. My friend Ashton was shipped to fill this vacancy.