The cries of "murder!" from the soldier, brought the marines and many of the sailors under the half-deck to the poor fellow's rescue; while the author of the mischief scuttled off among the men's feet, chattering and screaming all the way.

He was not again seen during two or three days; at the end of which, as the wounded "troop" was not much hurt, a sort of truce was proclaimed between the red and the blue factions of the ship.

Doubtless the armistice was all the better kept in consequence of some tolerably intelligible hints from the higher powers, that the peace of the ship was no longer to be invaded to make sport for those who were evidently more idle than they ought to be, and for whom, therefore, a little additional work might possibly be found.
Old Jacko, however, like one of the weaker states of Europe, whose fate and fortunes are settled by the protocols of the surrounding political giants, was no party to these treaties; and having once tasted the joys of revenge, he could not keep his teeth quiet, but must needs have another bite.

Upon this occasion, however, he kept clear of the corps, and attacked one of his oldest and dearest friends, no less a personage than the captain of the foretop.

It was in warm weather, and the men, as usual, were dining on the main-deck; the grog had been served out, and the happy Johnnies were just beginning to sip their darling beverage, when Mr.Mischief, incessantly occupied in his vocation of wrong doing, and utterly incapable of resisting any good opening to get himself into a scrape, saw the grog-kid of the captain of the top's mess standing by the fore-hatchway.