ptured by the
enemy's ship Foy, of twenty guns. Taken prisoner with the rest of the
crew, Israel was afterwards put on board the frigate Tartar, with
immediate sailing orders for England. Seventy-two were captives in this
vessel. Headed by Israel, these men--half way across the sea--formed a
scheme to take the ship, but were betrayed by a renegade Englishman. As
ringleader, Israel was put in irons, and so remained till the frigate
anchored at Portsmouth. There he was brought on deck; and would have met
perhaps some terrible fate, had it not come out, during the examination,
that the Englishman had been a deserter from the army of his native
country ere proving a traitor to his adopted one. Relieved of his irons,
Israel was placed in the marine hospital on shore, where half of the
prisoners took the small-pox, which swept off a third of their number.
Why talk of Jaffa?

From the hospital the survivors were conveyed to Spithead, and thrust on
board a hulk. And here in the black bowels of the ship, sunk low in the
sunless sea, our poor Israel lay for a month, like Jonah in the belly
of the whale.

But one bright morning, Israel is hailed from the deck. A bargeman of
the commander's boat is sick. Known for a sailor, Israel for the nonce
is appointed to pull the absent man's oar.

The officers being landed, some of the crew propose, like merry
Englishmen as they are, to hie to a neighboring ale-house, and have a
cosy pot or two together. Agreed. They start, and Israel with them. As
they enter the ale-house door, our prisoner is suddenly reminded of
still more imperative calls. Unsuspected of any design, he is allowed to
leave the party for a moment. No sooner does Israel see his companions
housed, than putting speed into his feet, and letting grow all his
wings, he starts like a deer. He runs four miles (so he afterwards
affirmed) without halting. He sped towards London; wisely deeming that
once in that crowd detection would be impossible.

Ten miles, as he computed, from where he had left the bargemen,
leisurely passing a public house of a little village on the roadside,
thinking himself now pretty safe--hark, what is this he hears?--

"Ahoy!"

"No ship," says Israel, hurrying on.

"Stop."

"If you will attend to your business, I will endeavor to attend to
mine," replies Israel coolly. And next minute he lets grow his wings
again; flying, one dare say, at the rate of something less than thirty
miles an hour.

"