The excitement of his companion was now communicated to Frank Gowan, and
as fast as they could walk they hurried on toward the gate at the corner
of the Park, passing knot after knot of people talking about the scene
which had taken place. But the boy did not forget to look eagerly in
the direction of the row of goodly houses standing back behind the
trees, and facing on to the Park, before they turned out through the
gate and found themselves in the tail of the crowd hurrying on toward
Palace Ward.
The crowd grew more dense till they reached the end of the street with
the open space in front, where it was impossible to go farther.
"Let's try and get round," whispered Andrew. "Do you hear? They're
fighting!"
Being young and active, they soon managed to get round to where they
anticipated obtaining a view of the proceedings; but there was nothing
to see but a surging crowd, for the most part well-dressed, but leavened
by the mob, and this was broken up from time to time by the passing of
carriages whose horses were forced to walk.
"Oh, if we could only get close up!" said Andrew impatiently. "Hark at
the shouting and yelling. They are fighting with the soldiers now."
"No, no, not yet, youngster," said a well-dressed man close by them;
"it's only men's canes and fists. The Whigs are getting the worst of
it; so you two boys had better go while your heads are whole."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I know a Whig when I see one, my lad."
"Do you mean that as an insult, sir?" said Andrew haughtily.
"No," said the gentleman, smiling; "only as a bit of advice."
"Because if you did--" said Andrew, laying his hand upon his sword.
"You would send your friends to me, boy, and then I should not fight.
Nonsense, my lad. There, off with your friend while your shoes are
good, and don't raise your voice, or some one will find out that you are
from the Palace. Then the news would run like wild fire, and you ought
to know by this time what a cowardly London mob will do. They nearly
tore Sir Marland Granthill out of his carriage just now. There, if I am
not on your side, I speak as a friend."
Before Andrew could make any retort, and just as Frank was tugging at
his arm to get him away, they were separated from the stranger by a rush
in the crowd, which forced them up into a doorway, from whose step they
saw, one after the other, no less than six men borne along insensible
and bleeding from wounds upon the head, while their clothes were nearly
torn from their backs.
Then the shouting and yelling began to subside, and the two lads were
forced to go with the stream, till an opportunity came for them to dive
down a side street and reach the river stairs, where they took a wherry
and were rowed east.
"I should like to know who that man was," said Andrew, after a long
silence, during which they went gliding along with the falling tide.
"He spoke very well," said Frank.
"Yes; but he took me for a Whig," said the youth indignantly.
"But, I say, what was it all about?"
"Oh, you'll soon learn that," replied Andrew.
"Is there often fighting like this going on in the streets?"
"Every day somewhere."
"But why?" said Frank anxiously.
"Surely you know! Because the Whigs have brought in a king that the
people do not like. There, don't talk about it any more now. I want to
sit still and think."
Frank respected his companion's silence, and thankful at having escaped
from the heat and pressure of the crowd, he sat gazing at the moving
panorama on either side, enjoying the novelty of his position.
His musings upon what he saw were interrupted by his companion, who
repeated his former words suddenly in a low, thoughtful voice, but one
full of annoyance, as if the words were rankling in his memory.
"He took me for a Whig."
Then, catching sight of his companion's eyes watching him wonderingly:
"What say?" he cried. "Did you speak?"
"No; you did."
"No, I said nothing."
Frank smiled.
"Yes, you said again that the man in the crowd took you for a Whig."
"Did I? Well, I was thinking aloud then."
"Where to, sir?" asked the waterman, as he sent the boat gliding along
past the gardens of the Temple, "London Bridge?"
"No; Blackfriars."
A few minutes later they landed at the stairs, and, apparently quite at
home in the place, Andrew led his companion in and out among the
gloomy-looking streets and lanes of the old Alsatian district, and out
into the continuation of what might very well be called High Street,
London.
"Here we are," he said, as he directed their steps toward one of the
narrow courts which ran north from the main thoroughfare; but upon
reaching the end, where a knot of excitable-looking men were talking
loudly upon some subject which evidently interested them deeply, one of
the loudest speakers suddenly ceased his harangue and directed the
attention of his companions to the two lads. The result was that all
faced round and stared at them offensively, bringing the colour into
Andrew's cheeks and making Frank feel uncomfortable.
"Let's go straight on," said the former; and drawing himself up, he
walked straight toward the group, which extended right across the rough
pavement and into the road, so that any one who wanted to pass along
would be compelled to make a circuit by stepping down first into the
dirty gutter.
"Keep close to me; don't give way," whispered Andrew; and he kept on
right in the face of the staring little crowd, till he was brought to a
standstill, not a man offering to budge.
"Will you allow us to pass?" said Andrew haughtily.
"Plenty o' room in the road," shouted the man who had been speaking.
"Aren't you going up the court?"
"I do not choose to go into the muddy road, sir, because you and your
party take upon yourselves to block up the public way," retorted Andrew,
giving the man so fierce a look that for a moment or two he was somewhat
abashed, and his companions, influenced by the stronger will of one who
was in the right, began to make way for the well-dressed pair.
But the first man found his tongue directly.
"Here, clear the road!" he cried banteringly. "Make way, you dirty
blackguards, for my lords. Lie down, some of you, and let 'em walk over
you. Lost your way, my lords? Why didn't you come in your carriages,
with horse soldiers before and behind? But it's no use to-day; the Lord
Mayor's gone out to dinner with his wife."
A roar of coarse laughter followed this sally, which increased as
another man shouted in imitation of military commands:
"Heads up; draw skewers; right forward; ma-rr-rr-ch!"
"Scum!" said Andrew contemptuously, as they left the little crowd
behind.
"Is the city always like this?" said Frank, whose face now was as red as
his companion's.
"Yes, now," said Andrew bitterly. "That's a specimen of a Whig mob."
"Nonsense!" cried Frank, rather warmly; "don't be so prejudiced. How
can you tell that they are Whigs?"
"By the way in which they jumped at a chance to insult gentlemen. Horse
soldiers indeed! Draw swords! Oh! I should like to be at the head of
a troop, to give the order and chase the dirty ruffians out of the
street, and make my men thrash them with the flats of their blades till
they went down on their knees in the mud and howled for mercy."
"What a furious fire-eater you are, Drew," cried Frank, recovering his
equanimity. "We ought to have stepped out into the road."
"For a set of jeering ruffians like that!" cried Andrew. "No. They
hate to see a gentleman go by. London is getting disgraceful now."
"Never mind. There, I've seen enough of it. Let's get down to the
river again, and take a boat; it's much pleasanter than being in this
noisy, crowded place."
"Not yet. We've a better right here than a mob like that. It would be
running away."
"Why, how would they know?" said Frank merrily.
"I should know, and feel as if I had disgraced myself," replied Andrew
haughtily. "Besides, I wanted to see a gentleman."
"What, up that court?" said Frank, looking curiously at his companion.
"Yes, a gentleman up that court. There are plenty of gentlemen, and
noblemen, too, driven nowadays to live in worse places than that, and
hide about in holes and corners."
"Oh, I say, don't be so cross because a lot of idlers would not make
way."
"It isn't that," said the youth. "It half maddens me sometimes."
"Then don't think about it. You are always talking about politics. I
don't understand much about them, but it seems to me that if people obey
the laws they can live happily enough."
"Poor Frank!" said Andrew mockingly. "But never mind. You have got
everything to learn. This way."
The boy was thinking that he did not want to learn "everything" if the
studies were to make him as irritable and peppery as his companion, when
the imperative order to turn came upon him by surprise, and he followed
Andrew, who had suddenly turned into a narrower court than the one for
which he had first made, and out of the roaring street into comparative
silence.
"Where are you going?"
"This way. We can get round by the back. I want to see my friend."
The court was only a few feet wide, and the occupants of the opposing
houses could easily have carried on a conversation from the open
windows; but these occupants seemed to be too busy, for in the glimpses
he obtained as they passed, Frank caught sight of workmen in paper caps
and dirty white aprons, and boys hurrying to and fro, carrying packets
of paper.
But he had not much opportunity for noticing what business was being
carried on, for they soon reached the end of the court, where a fresh
group of men were standing listening to a speaker holding forth from an
open window, and the lad fully expected a similar scene to that which
had taken place in the main street.
But people made way here, and Andrew, apparently quite at home, turned
to the left along a very dirty lane, plunged into another court, and in
and out two or three times in silence, along what seemed to the boy
fresh from quaint old Winchester a perfect maze.
"I say, Drew," he said at last, "you must have been here before."
"I? Oh yes! I know London pretty well. Now down here."
He plunged sharply now round a corner and into the wide court he had at
first made for, but now from its northern end. So quick and sudden was
the movement made that the two lads, before they could realise the fact,
found themselves in another crowd, which filled this court from end to
end. The people composing it were principally of the rough class they
had seen grouped at the lower part, but fully half were workmen in their
shirt sleeves, many of them with faces blackened by their occupation,
while a smaller portion was well-dressed, and kept on moving about and
talking earnestly to the people around.
"Too late," said Andrew, half to himself.
"Yes; we shall have to go round and reach the street farther along,"
said Frank quietly. "We don't want to push through there."
"But it's here I want to see my friend."
"Does he live in this place?"
"No; but he is sure to be there--in that house."
The lad nodded at a goodly sized mansion about half-way down the court;
and even from where they stood they could make out that the place was
crowded, and that something exciting was going on, the crowd in the
court outside being evidently listeners, trying to catch what was said
within, the murmurs of which reached the two lads' ears.
All at once there was a loud outburst of cheering, shouting, and
clapping of hands, as if at the conclusion of a speech; and this was
responded to by a roar of yells, hoots, and derisive cries from the
court.
"Oh! too late--too late," muttered Andrew. "Silence, you miserable
crew!"
But where heard his words passed unnoticed, those around evidently
taking them as being addressed to the people in the great tavern.
"Let's get away--quickly, while we can," said Frank, with his lips close
to his companion's ear; but the lad shook him off angrily, and then
uttered a cry of rage, for at that moment there was a loud crash and
splintering of glass, the mob in the court, evidently under the
direction of the well-dressed men, hurling stones, decayed vegetables,
and rubbish of all kinds in at the windows of the tavern.
This was responded to by shouts of defiance and a rain of pots, glasses,
and pails of water; and even the pails themselves were hurled down upon
the heads of the people in the court, while a long oaken settle which
came clattering down fell crosswise, the end coming within a few inches
of a man's head.
"Oh, do let's go!" Frank very naturally said, gripping Andrew's arm
hard.
But the lad seemed to have suddenly gone crazy with excitement, shouting
and gesticulating with the rest, directing his words, which sounded like
menaces, at the people crowding at the window of the house.
At this the mob cheered, and, as if in answer to his orders, made a rush
for the door, surging in, armed for the most part with sticks, and as if
to carry the place by assault.
"I can't go and leave him," thought Frank; and directly after--as he
looked up the court toward the end by which they had entered, and down
from which they had been borne until they were nearly opposite the
house--"if I wanted to," he muttered, as he saw how they were wedged in
and swayed here and there by the crowd.
The noise increased, the crowd beginning to cheer loudly, as crowds will
when excited by the chance to commit mischief, and Frank remained
ignorant of the reasons which impelled them on, as he watched the
exciting scene. The sound of blows, yells of defiance, and the angry,
increasing roar of those contending within the house, set his heart
beating wildly. For a few minutes, when he found himself shut in by the
people around, a feeling of dread came over him, mingled with despair at
his helplessness, and he would have given anything to be able to escape
from his position; but as he saw man after man come stumbling out
bruised and bleeding, and heard the cries of rage uttered by those who
hemmed him in, the feeling of fear gave place to indignation, and this
was soon followed by an angry desire to help those who, amidst the
cheers of their fellows, pressed forward to take the place of those who
were beaten back.
It was at this moment that he saw two well-dressed men waving swords
above their heads, and, white now with rage, Andrew turned to him.
"The cowards--the dogs!" he whispered. "Frank lad, you will be man
enough to help?"
"Yes, yes," panted the boy huskily, with a sensation akin to that which
he had felt when hurt in his last school fight, when, reckless from
pain, he had dashed at a tyrannical fellow-pupil who was planting blow
after blow upon him almost as he pleased.
"Draw your sword then, and follow me."
Frank made a struggle to wrench himself free, but it was in vain.
"I can't!" he panted. "My arms are pinned down to my side."
"So are mine," groaned Andrew. "I can hardly breathe."
A furious yell of rage arose from fifty throats, and the two lads saw
the attacking party come tumbling one over the other out of the tavern,
driven back by the defenders, who charged bravely out after them, armed
with stick and sword; and almost before the two lads could realise their
position they found themselves being carried along in the human stream
well out of reach of the blows being showered down by the rallying party
from the house, who literally drove their enemies before them, at first
step by step, striking back in their own defence, rendered desperate by
their position, then giving up and seeking refuge in flight, when with a
rush their companions gave way more and more in front.
For a few minutes the heat and pressure were suffocating, and as Frank
and his companion were twisted round and borne backward, the former felt
a peculiar sensation of giddy faintness, the walls swam round, the
shouting sounded distant, and he was only half-conscious when, in
company with those around, he was shot out of the narrow entrance of the
court; and then the terrible pressure ceased.