the boy's capture. It
was lucky for Furness that McShane was surrounded by others, or in all
probability there would have been another murder committed. The major,
however, said he would think of it, and fell back in deep thought; what
he was thinking of was what he should do to punish Furness. At last an
idea came into his head; the rascal was drunk, and he proposed that he
should go to another house, where they might find the major, and he
would present him. Furness consented, and reeled out of the box;
McShane, although he would as soon have touched a viper, controlled
himself sufficiently to give Furness his arm, and leading him down by
two or three back courts, he took him into an ale-house where there was
a rendezvous for enlisting marines for the navy. As soon as they were
seated, and had liquor before them, McShane spoke to the sergeant,
tipped him a guinea, and said he had a good recruit for him, if he could
be persuaded to enlist. He then introduced the sergeant as the major,
and advised Furness to pretend to agree with him in everything. The
sergeant told long stories, clapped Furness, who was now quite
intoxicated, on the back, called him a jolly fellow, and asked him to
enlist. "Say `yes,' to please him," said McShane in his ear. Furness
did so, received the shilling, and when he came to his senses next day,
found his friend had disappeared, and that he was under an escort for
Portsmouth. All remonstrances were unavailing; McShane had feed [paid a
fee to] the sergeant, and had promised him a higher fee not to let
Furness off; and the latter, having but a few shillings in his pocket,
was compelled to submit to his fate.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

IN WHICH OUR HERO AGAIN FALLS IN WITH AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

For nearly two years Joey had filled his situation as chancellor of the
exchequer to Mrs Chopper. He certainly did not feel himself always in
the humour or the disposition for business, especially during the hard
winter months, when, seated almost immovably in the boat during the best
portion of the day, he would find his fingers so completely dead, that
he could not hold his pen. But there is no situation, under any of the
powers that be, that has not some drawback. People may say that a
sinecure is one that has not its disadvantages; but such is not the
case--there is the disgrace of holding it. At all events, Joey's place
was no sinecure, for he was up early, and was employed the whole of