No steamboats ploughed the ocean, nor were railroads thought of, when our young friends Jack, Tom, and Bill lived. They first met each other on board the _Foxhound_ frigate, on the deck of which ship a score of other lads and some fifty or sixty men were mustered, who had just come up the side from the _Viper_ tender; she having been on a cruise to collect such stray hands as could be found; and a curious lot they were to look at. Among them were long-shore fellows in swallow-tails and round hats, fishermen in jerseys and fur-skin caps, smugglers in big boots and flushing coats; and not a few whose whitey-brown faces, and close-cropped hair, made it no difficult matter to guess that their l…
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