{"id":"01KG8AKJYX0F130B99WNGRG7BV","cid":"bafkreiasbbnr6jwyp7ceedz3ftz3o24hhsk22qfr4e226xq4bp4qnffx2y","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":3785,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","start_line":3708,"text":"As running down channel at evening, Israel walked the crowded main-deck\r\nof the seventy-four, continually brushed by a thousand hurrying\r\nwayfarers, as if he were in some great street in London, jammed with\r\nartisans, just returning from their day’s labor, novel and painful\r\nemotions were his. He found himself dropped into the naval mob without\r\none friend; nay, among enemies, since his country’s enemies were his\r\nown, and against the kith and kin of these very beings around him, he\r\nhimself had once lifted a fatal hand. The martial bustle of a great\r\nman-of-war, on her first day out of port, was indescribably jarring to\r\nhis present mood. Those sounds of the human multitude disturbing the\r\nsolemn natural solitudes of the sea, mysteriously afflicted him. He\r\nmurmured against that untowardness which, after condemning him to long\r\nsorrows on the land, now pursued him with added griefs on the deep. Why\r\nshould a patriot, leaping for the chance again to attack the oppressor,\r\nas at Bunker Hill, now be kidnapped to fight that oppressor’s battles\r\non the endless drifts of the Bunker Hills of the billows? But like many\r\nother repiners, Israel was perhaps a little premature with upbraidings\r\nlike these.\r\n\r\nPlying on between Scilly and Cape Clear, the Unprincipled—which vessel\r\nsomewhat outsailed her consorts—fell in, just before dusk, with a large\r\nrevenue cutter close to, and showing signals of distress. At the\r\nmoment, no other sail was in sight.\r\n\r\nCursing the necessity of pausing with a strong fair wind at a juncture\r\nlike this, the officer-of-the-deck shortened sail, and hove to; hailing\r\nthe cutter, to know what was the matter. As he hailed the small craft\r\nfrom the lofty poop of the bristling seventy-four, this lieutenant\r\nseemed standing on the top of Gibraltar, talking to some lowland\r\npeasant in a hut. The reply was, that in a sudden flaw of wind, which\r\ncame nigh capsizing them, not an hour since, the cutter had lost all\r\nfour foremost men by the violent jibing of a boom. She wanted help to\r\nget back to port.\r\n\r\n“You shall have one man,” said the officer-of-the-deck, morosely.\r\n\r\n“Let him be a good one then, for heaven’s sake,” said he in the cutter;\r\n“I ought to have at least two.”\r\n\r\nDuring this talk, Israel’s curiosity had prompted him to dart up the\r\nladder from the main-deck, and stand right in the gangway above,\r\nlooking out on the strange craft. Meantime the order had been given to\r\ndrop a boat. Thinking this a favorable chance, he stationed himself so\r\nthat he should be the foremost to spring into the boat; though crowds\r\nof English sailors, eager as himself for the same opportunity to escape\r\nfrom foreign service, clung to the chains of the as yet imperfectly\r\ndisciplined man-of-war. As the two men who had been lowered in the boat\r\nhooked her, when afloat, along to the gangway, Israel dropped like a\r\ncomet into the stern-sheets, stumbled forward, and seized an oar. In a\r\nmoment more, all the oarsmen were in their places, and with a few\r\nstrokes the boat lay alongside the cutter.\r\n\r\n“Take which of them you please,” said the lieutenant in command,\r\naddressing the officer in the revenue-cutter, and motioning with his\r\nhand to his boat’s crew, as if they were a parcel of carcasses of\r\nmutton, of which the first pick was offered to some customer. “Quick\r\nand choose. Sit down, men”—to the sailors. “Oh, you are in a great\r\nhurry to get rid of the king’s service, ain’t you? Brave chaps\r\nindeed!—Have you chosen your man?”\r\n\r\nAll this while the ten faces of the anxious oarsmen looked with mute\r\nlongings and appealings towards the officer of the cutter; every face\r\nturned at the same angle, as if managed by one machine. And so they\r\nwere. One motive.\r\n\r\n“I take the freckled chap with the yellow hair—him,” pointing to\r\nIsrael.\r\n\r\nNine of the upturned faces fell in sullen despair, and ere Israel could\r\nspring to his feet, he felt a violent thrust in his rear from the toes\r\nof one of the disappointed behind him.\r\n\r\n“Jump, dobbin!” cried the officer of the boat.\r\n\r\nBut Israel was already on board. Another moment, and the boat and\r\ncutter parted. Ere long, night fell, and the man-of-war and her\r\nconsorts were out of sight.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AK6WAJTCF6PJ4PZTAZZA7","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"}],"ver":1,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:09.181Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:09.181Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}