JACK AMONG THE MUMMIES.
"The times have been
That when the brains were out the man would die,
And there an end: but now they rise again
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
To push us from our stools."
Shakspeare.
A strange sail is always a matter of interest in a ship of war; and no sooner was the canvass set in chase of the brig mentioned in my last, than the forecastle of the Spankaway received its usual group of yarn-spinners, anxious to ascertain the character of the stranger, and what amount of prize-money was likely to be shared in case of her carrying an enemy's flag. There was our old friend Jack Sheavehole, together with Joe Nighthead, Bob Martingal, Bill Buntline, and several others; and occasionally the warrant-officers, and even the mate of the watch, stopped to chime in with a few words, so as to give life to their conversation.
"It bothers my univarsal knowledge," said old Savage, the boatswain, "to make out what lay the skipper's on; and as for the chase, mayhap she mayn't turn out to be moonshine arter all."