And here in the black bowels of the ship, sunk low in the sunless sea, our poor Israel lay for a month, like Jonah in the belly of the whale.
But one bright morning, Israel is hailed from the deck.

A bargeman of the commander's boat is sick.

Known for a sailor, Israel for the nonce is appointed to pull the absent man's oar.
The officers being landed, some of the crew propose, like merry Englishmen as they are, to hie to a neighboring ale-house, and have a cosy pot or two together.Agreed.They start, and Israel with them.

As they enter the ale-house door, our prisoner is suddenly reminded of still more imperative calls.

Unsuspected of any design, he is allowed to leave the party for a moment.