The next morning I and my companion, who had escaped the ordeal that had proved too much for me, were summoned to go ashore to the rendezvous, that we might sign the ship’s articles; or, in sailor phrase, get shipped. The officer of the watch shouted, “Boatswain’s mate!” “Sir,” answered a deep, gruff voice. “Pipe away the cutter,” said the officer. “Aye, aye, sir.” “Pass the word for James Wilson and William Harper.” “Aye, aye, sir.” Then followed a loud, shrill whistle, accompanied with the cry of, “Away, there, cutters, away!” We were also summoned to appear, and told to take our seats in the cutter, which by this time lay alongside, manned by her crew of six men, who sat each with his oar elevated in the air, waiting the word of command. We were soon seated, the lieutenant passed the words, “Let fall, and give way;” the oars fell into the water with admirable precision, and away we flew towards the shore. On our way to the rendezvous, I told my companion I should not ship in the _John Adams_, because so many of the _Macedonians_ were already there, and it was impossible for us to pass for Americans. After some debate, we agreed together not to sign the articles. On entering the house where the stars and stripes were flying over the door, in token of its being the naval rendezvous, being anxious to have my friend Wilson pass the ordeal first, I affected to stumble, and then continued apparently engaged in fixing my shoe-string. “Well, my boy, what is your name? Just sign it here, will you?” said the officer. I took no notice, but remained very busy with my shoes. My shipmate replied in a low, bashful voice, “I don’t like to ship, sir.” “Very well, then go below,” said the officer. At this juncture, feeling encouraged by his remark, I looked up; when, to my discomfiture, the officer, fixing his eyes on my retreating companion, observed, “That fellow will certainly be hung;” meaning that he would get caught by the English. Then, addressing me, he said, “Now, my lad, just sign your name.” “Sir,” said I, “I had better not ship alone. The other boy is only frightened; let me talk to him a little, and I can persuade him to ship with me.” The shipping officer was too old a bird to be snared with such chaff as this. So, speaking rather sharply, he said, “Let him go, sir, and ship yourself; then he’ll come back and join you; and”--he smiled as he spoke--“I will let you come ashore to persuade him, in a day or two.” Still I pretended not to be convinced, and, after considerable debate, he let me off. Once more clear, I joined my young shipmate, and we proceeded together to our boarding-house, congratulating ourselves on our fortunate escape, as it appeared to us.