ice in the navy, now," he said, with
an air of interest; "how came you to git into it?"

"Ha! that wos cos o' me bein' sitch a strong, good-lookin' feller,"
replied Ali, with an air of self-satisfaction.

"Just so," said Flaggan; "but it's not common to hear of Moors bein'
taken aboard our men o' war, d'ee see. It's that as puzzles me."

"Oh, that's easy to 'splain," returned Ali. "The fac' is, I'd bin for
sev'l year aboord a Maltese trader 'tween Meddrainean an' Liverp'l, and
got so like a English tar you coodn't tell the one fro' the oder. Spok
English, too, like natif."

"Ha!" exclaimed Ted, nodding his head gravely--"well?"

"Well, one night w'en we was all sleeperin' in port, in a 'ouse on
shore, the press-gang comes round an' nabs the whole of us. We fight
like lions. I knock seven men down, one before the tother, 'cause of
bein' very strong, an' had learn to spar a littil. You know how to
spar?"

"Well," returned Ted, looking with a smile at his huge hands, "I can't
go for to say as I know much about the science of it, d'ee see; but I
can use my fists after a fashion."

"Good," continued the Moor. "Well, then, we fights till all our eyes is
black, an' all our noses is red, an' some of our teeths is out, but the
sailirs wos too many for us. We wos 'bleeged to gif in, for wot kin
courage do agin numbers? so we wos took aboord a friggit and 'zamined."

"An' what?" asked the seaman.

"'Zamined. Overhauled," replied the Moor.

"Oh! examined, I see. Well?"

"Well, I feels sure of git hoff, bein' a Algerine Moor, so w'en my turn
comes, I says to the hofficer wot 'zamined us, says I, `I's not a
Breetish man!'

"`Wot are you, then?' says the hofficer.

"`I's a Moor,' says I.

"`Moor's the pity,' says he."

Ted gave a short laugh at this.

"Now, that's strange," observed Ali, glancing at his companion in some
surprise; "that's 'zactly wot they all did, w'en the hofficer says that!
I've thought oftin 'bout it since, but never could see wot they laugh
at."

"Oh, it's just a way we've got," returned Flaggan, resuming his gravity;
"the English have a knack o' larfin', off and on, w'en they shouldn't
ought to.--Git along with your yarn."

"Well, that wos the finish. I became a Breetish tar, an' fouted in all
the battils of the navy. I 'spected to get promotion an' prize-money,
but nivir git none, 'cause of circumstances as wos never 'splained to
me. Well, one night we come in our friggit to