I was much struck with the appearance of Decatur that evening, as he sat in full uniform, his pleasant face flushed with the excitement of the occasion. He formed a striking contrast to the appearance he made when he visited our ship on the passage to New York. Then, he wore an old straw hat and a plain suit of clothes, which made him look more like a farmer than a naval commander. Never had men more friends than the crew of the _United States_ at this period. Every boarding-house was open to them; every merchant would trust them; every one was willing to lend them money. What was it that gained them such public favor? “O their victory, of course,” replies the reader. Stop; I will reveal the secret. They had some prize money coming to them in a few weeks! That was the key that unlocked coffers; the warmth that melted the heart; the spirit that clothed the face with smiles. But for that--THE PRIZE MONEY--poor Jack’s credit and favor would, as usual, have been below _par_. Of course, this profusion, this universal popularity, almost turned the brains of some of those old tars; and at every opportunity they would steal ashore for a spree. This brought them into trouble; it brought some of them to the gangway to be flogged. These floggings, however, were not very severe; they were rather a species of farce, enacted to preserve alive the forms of discipline. To avoid even these forms, the men were accustomed, after staying on a spree for several days, to visit the commodore’s lady, with some piteous tale, begging her to intercede for them with their captain. This she did with almost constant success. The lucky tar would then go on board, telling his messmates that she was the sailor’s friend, and using the usual saying in such cases, “Good luck to her--she has a soul to be saved.” By this time, the late crew of the _Macedonian_, or those of them who had not gone home with the Cartel, were pretty well scattered over the country. One of the marines, named Luke Oil, went to Springfield, Mass., where he was employed as a file-cutter by Colonel Lee, of the U. S. armory, at the rate of $75 per month. This prosperity, and an unfortunate marriage, led him into unsteady habits. He enlisted into the U. S. army; but growing sick of that, Colonel Lee procured his discharge. He afterwards enlisted again, which is the last I ever heard of Luke Oil. Two more of our marines, named Shipley and Taylor, also went to Springfield, and were employed by a Mr. Ames. Several of the others enlisted to serve in the fort at New London. One of these, whose name was Hawkins, was very highly esteemed for his excellence as a soldier, and was soon made sergeant. But being an inveterate drunkard, he lost his office, and was degraded to the ranks.