He sent up the bill by the waiter, and stated that, for a deposit, the gentleman might have a pair of trousers.

The boatswain felt in his pockets and remembered that all his money was in his trousers' pocket.

He could not only not leave a deposit, but could not pay his bill.

The landlord was inexorable.

It was bad enough to lose his money, but he could not lose more.
"I shall be tried by a court-martial, by heavens!" exclaimed the boatswain--"it's not far from the sally-port: I'll make a run for it, and I can slip into one of the boats and get another pair of trousers before I report myself as having come on board." So making up his mind, the boatswain took to his heels, and with his check shirt tails streaming in the wind, ran as hard as he could to where the boat was waiting to receive him.