Why should a patriot, leaping for the chance again to attack the oppressor, as at Bunker Hill, now be kidnapped to fight that oppressor's battles on the endless drifts of the Bunker Hills of the billows?
But like many other repiners, Israel was perhaps a little premature with upbraidings like these.
Plying on between Scilly and Cape Clear, the Unprincipled--which vessel somewhat outsailed her consorts--fell in, just before dusk, with a large revenue cutter close to, and showing signals of distress.

At the moment, no other sail was in sight.
Cursing the necessity of pausing with a strong fair wind at a juncture like this, the officer-of-the-deck shortened sail, and hove to; hailing the cutter, to know what was the matter.

As he hailed the small craft from the lofty poop of the bristling seventy-four, this lieutenant seemed standing on the top of Gibraltar, talking to some lowland peasant in a hut.

The reply was, that in a sudden flaw of wind, which came nigh capsizing them, not an hour since, the cutter had lost all four foremost men by the violent jibing of a boom.

She wanted help to get back to port.
"You shall have one man," said the officer-of-the-deck, morosely.
"Let him be a good one then, for heaven's sake," said he in the cutter; "I ought to have at least two." During this talk, Israel's curiosity had prompted him to dart up the ladder from the main-deck, and stand right in the gangway above, looking out on the strange craft.