CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH ISRAEL IS SAILOR UNDER TWO FLAGS, AND IN THREE SHIPS, AND ALL IN ONE NIGHT.
As running down channel at evening, Israel walked the crowded main-deck of the seventy-four, continually brushed by a thousand hurrying wayfarers, as if he were in some great street in London, jammed with artisans, just returning from their day's labor, novel and painful emotions were his.

He found himself dropped into the naval mob without one friend; nay, among enemies, since his country's enemies were his own, and against the kith and kin of these very beings around him, he himself had once lifted a fatal hand.

The martial bustle of a great man-of-war, on her first day out of port, was indescribably jarring to his present mood.

Those sounds of the human multitude disturbing the solemn natural solitudes of the sea, mysteriously afflicted him.

He murmured against that untowardness which, after condemning him to long sorrows on the land, now pursued him with added griefs on the deep.