I now assured the mate that I had not the slightest objection to the Jew’s sharing the cabin with me, but rather wished it, as there was room for us both and for more.  “Excuse me, Sir Cavalier,” replied the Genoese, “but I swear to permit no such thing; you are young and do not know this canaille as I do, who have been backward and forward to this coast for twenty years; if the beast is cold, let him sleep below the hatches as I and the rest shall, but that cabin he shall not enter.”  Observing that he was obstinate I retired, and in a few minutes was in a sound sleep which lasted till daybreak.  Twice or thrice, indeed, I thought that a struggle was taking place near me, but I was so overpowered with weariness, or “sleep drunken,” as the Germans call it, that I was unable to arouse myself sufficiently to discover what was going on; the truth is, that three times during the night, the sage feeling himself uncomfortable in the open air by the side of his companion, penetrated into the cabin, and was as many times dragged out by his relentless old enemy, who, suspecting his intentions, kept his eye upon him throughout the night.

About five I arose; the sun was shining brightly and gloriously upon town, bay, and mountain; the crew were already employed upon deck repairing a sail which had been shivered in the wind of the preceding day.  The Jews sat disconsolate on the poop; they complained much of the cold they had suffered in their exposed situation.  Over the left eye of the sage I observed a bloody cut, which he informed me he had received from the old Genoese after he had dragged him out of the cabin for the last time.  I now produced my bottle of Cognac, begging that the crew would partake of it as a slight return for their hospitality.  They thanked me, and the bottle went its round; it was last in the hands of the old mate, who, after looking for a moment at the sage, raised it to his mouth, where he kept it a considerable time longer than any of his companions, after which he returned it to me with a low bow.  The sage now inquired what the bottle contained:  I told him Cognac or aguardiente, whereupon with some eagerness he begged that I would allow him to take a draught.  “How is this?” said I; “yesterday you told me that it was a forbidden thing, an abomination.”  “Yesterday,” said he, “I was not aware that it was brandy; I thought it wine, which assuredly is an abomination, and a forbidden thing.”  “Is it forbidden in the Torah?” I inquired.  “Is it forbidden in the law of God?” “I know not,” said he, “but one thing I know, that the sages have forbidden it.”  “Sages like yourself,” cried I with warmth; “sages like yourself, with long beards and short understandings:  the use of both drinks is permitted, but more danger lurks in this bottle than in a tun of wine.  Well said my Lord the Nazarene, ’ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel’; but as you are cold and shivering, take the bottle and revive yourself with a small portion of its contents.”  He put it to his lips and found not a single drop.  The old Genoese grinned.