About the same time one of our crew, named Jack Sadler, a fine, noble-hearted seaman, growing weary of the service, determined to desert. Dropping into the water, he began swimming towards the shore. It was not very dark, and he was discovered; the sentry was ordered to fire at him, which he did, but missed his prey. A boat was next lowered, which soon overtook and dragged him on board. The officer commanding the boat said, “Well, Mr. Sadler, you thought you had got away, did you?” “You are not so sure that you have me now,” replied Sadler, as he sprung over the side of the boat. Nor would they have captured him, had not another ship’s boat arrived to their assistance. The next day, he was seized up and received three dozen lashes, which, considering his offence, was a very light punishment. I suppose that his noble bearing, his lion-hearted courage, and his undaunted manner, produced a favorable feeling in the captain’s mind; especially as he afterwards became his favorite--a fancy man--as those men are called who win the favor of their superior officer. One of Sadler’s failings was that too prevalent evil among seamen, drunkenness. Soon after the above affair, he got drunk. Being seen by the captain, he was ordered to be put in irons. Sadler was Bob Hammond’s messmate; this worthy, finding his comrade in trouble, made himself drunk, and purposely placed himself in the way of the officers, that he might be put in irons also, to keep his friend Sadler company. The plan succeeded. Bob had his wish, and the two fearless tars were soon ironed together. Nothing daunted, they began to sing, and through the whole night they kept up such a hallooing, shouting and singing as might have served for a whole company of idle roysterers. Being near the ward-room, they prevented the officers from sleeping nearly all night. As usual, after being in irons, they were brought up for punishment the next morning. “Well, Mr. Sadler,” said the captain, “you were drunk, were you, last night?” “I was, sir,” replied the offender. Had he been any other man, he would have been ordered to strip: as it was, the captain proceeded,-- “Do you feel sorry for it, sir?” “I do, sir.” “Will you try to keep sober if I forgive you?” continued Captain Carden. “I will try, sir.” “Then, sir, I forgive you:” and no doubt he was glad to witness that contrition in his favorite which made it consistent to forgive him. Having dismissed Sadler, he turned to Hammond: assuming a sterner look and a harsher voice, he said, in a tone of irony, “Well, Mr. Hammond, you got drunk last night, did you, sir?” Bob shrugged up his shoulders, and removed his enormous quid into a convenient position for speaking, and then replied, “I can’t say but that I had a horn of malt.” The captain looked thunder at the stalwart man, as he answered, “A horn of malt, you rascal! what do you call a horn of malt?”