dancing till he had danced himself into a perfect sweat, so that the
drops fell from his lank and flaxen hair. But Israel, with much of the
gentleness of the dove, is not wholly without the wisdom of the serpent.
Pleased to see the flowing bowl, he congratulates himself that his own
state of perspiration prevents it from producing any intoxicating effect
upon him.

Late at night the company break up. Furnished with a pair of handcuffs,
the prisoner is laid on a blanket spread upon the floor at the side of
the bed in which his two keepers are to repose. Expressing much
gratitude for the blanket, with apparent unconcern, Israel stretches his
legs. An hour or two passes. All is quiet without.

The important moment had now arrived. Certain it was, that if this
chance were suffered to pass unimproved, a second would hardly present
itself. For early, doubtless, on the following morning, if not some way
prevented, the two soldiers would convey Israel back to his floating
prison, where he would thenceforth remain confined until the close of
the war; years and years, perhaps. When he thought of that horrible old
hulk, his nerves were restrung for flight. But intrepid as he must be to
compass it, wariness too was needed. His keepers had gone to bed pretty
well under the influence of the liquor. This was favorable. But still,
they were full-grown, strong men; and Israel was handcuffed. So Israel
resolved upon strategy first; and if that failed, force afterwards. He
eagerly listened. One of the drunken soldiers muttered in his sleep, at
first lowly, then louder and louder,--"Catch 'em! Grapple 'em! Have at
'em! Ha--long cutlasses! Take that, runaway!"

"What's the matter with ye, Phil?" hiccoughed the other, who was not yet
asleep. "Keep quiet, will ye? Ye ain't at Fontenoy now."