Meantime, rub my back for me, another," and very confidently he leaned against his neighbor.
"Lean off me, will ye ?" roared his friend, shoving him away.
"But who _is_ this ere singing, leaning, yarn-spinning chap?
Who are ye?
Be you a waister, or be you not ?" So saying, one of this peevish, sottish band staggered close up to Israel.

But there was a deck above and a deck below, and the lantern swung in the distance.

It was too dim to see with critical exactness.
"No such singing chap belongs to our gang, that's flat," he dogmatically exclaimed at last, after an ineffectual scrutiny.

"Sail out of this!" And with a shove once more, poor Israel was ejected.
Blackballed out of every club, he went disheartened on deck.

So long, while light screened him at least, as he contented himself with promiscuously circulating, all was safe; it was the endeavor to fraternize with any one set which was sure to endanger him.