As soon as Ralph Michelmore was in the road, though he had offered no
resistance, he was roughly thrust into the midst of the press-gang, who
again closed round their prisoners. The officer called off the men on
the watch at the other side of the house, and gave the order to proceed
back to the boats. They had not gone far when Ralph felt one of his
fellow captives stumble up against him, evidently to attract his
attention.
"Hist, old ship! I'd have given a year's wages rather than have seen
you in the hands of the gang," whispered the man, whom he knew at once
to be Dick Bracewell.
"Thank you, Dick," answered Ralph. "I am vexed with myself for not
having brought my protection with me. I shall, however, get it
to-morrow, without doubt, so I shall be all right. I am sorry though to
find that you have been pressed."
"It's little odds to me where I am, but much to you whether you keep
your liberty, according to what you told me about that young girl,"
answered Dick, in the same low tone. "Now, depend on't, they'll take
good care you don't receive your protection, for I've found out that we
are to be shipped this very night aboard the _Falcon_, now lying in the
Sound, and that she sails for a foreign station--the East Indies, they
say--to-morrow morning. Bless ye, old ship! Before Captain Mudge can
bring you your protection we shall have run the Eddystone out of sight."
This information made Ralph very anxious, for he had too much reason to
fear that it was correct. Dick fancied that some of the press-gang were
observing him, and was silent for some time, though not idle with his
fingers, walking on as if resigned to his fate. Once more he stumbled,
apparently without intending to do so, against Ralph.
"Hist, mate! You'd like to get your liberty, and come what may I've
made up my mind to help you," he whispered. "My hands are free. In
half a minute we shall be close to some dark lanes, and more than one
hiding-place I know of. I'll knock the fellow down nearest to you, and
then do you run for it."
"I cannot do it, Dick; I promised not to run, and I must not break my
promise," answered Ralph.
"Oh, nonsense!" cried Dick; "if those fellows made you give a promise
it's their look out."
"A promise is a promise in God's sight, however made," said Ralph.
"Then you don't care for the young girl you talked of marrying," said
Dick, again lowering his voice.
"I'd give my life for her sake," answered Ralph.
"That's not the question. Come, here's the place; say the word and
you'll be free," whispered Dick, not attending to his last remark.
"No, I cannot," answered Ralph firmly.
"An obstinate man will have his own way, and be sorry for it
afterwards," exclaimed Dick, in a tone of vexation. "But I'll see what
I can do in spite of you; there'll be another chance further on."
Dick staggered on as if he were still half-seas-over, gradually
increasing his distance from Ralph till he got alongside his friend Tom.
The latter was in no mood for talking, but he listened eagerly to what
Dick had to say.
"Ay, give the word, and I'm ready," answered Tom, after listening for
some time; "only just help me to get my hands out of limbo."
Dick had managed to liberate his own hands, and it was the work of a
moment to free his companion's, the darkness preventing their guards
from observing them.
They had by this time reached a street close to the water, though at
some distance from where the boats were waiting. Suddenly the
press-gang were assailed by the wildest shrieks and cries and showers of
abuse, uttered by a number of women and boys, who rushed out from some
narrow courts or other places where they had been concealed. They did
not confide their attack to words, but, supported by some men, who,
however, kept at a safe distance behind them, they opened a volley of
brickbats and stones at the heads of the sailors. The latter turned to
defend themselves and drive off their assailants, who nimbly retreated,
when pursued, in all directions, redoubling their shrieks and cries.
The officer, well knowing the object of the attack, shouted to his men
to stand fast; but some amid the din did not understand what he said,
and few were willing to obey his orders.
Tom, whose hands had been freed, tripped up the man nearest him, and
dashed down the street towards the water, followed by two of the
press-gang.
"Now's your time, mate," cried Dick, seizing Ralph by the arm; "come
along."
"I cannot," answered Ralph, firmly; "I promised to remain. Save
yourself if you can."
"You're a fool then," exclaimed Dick, and, springing past some of the
press-gang attacked by those in front, he dashed through the crowd. He
was, however, pursued, and quickly brought back.
"Luck's against me, hearties, but I'm not the lad to pipe my eye," he
exclaimed, in a tone of bravado. "Just give me another chance, and I'll
show you who has the fastest pair of heels."
The sailors laughed at Dick's sally, and thought him a hearty good
fellow, though they did not neglect, for all that, to lash his hands
more securely than at first.
In the meantime Tom had reached the wharf, but finding one side blocked
up, had doubled, in the hope of escaping in another direction, when he
saw two of the press-gang close to him. Numerous vessels of all sizes
lay in the harbour. Dread of having to serve on board of a man-of-war
made him desperate. Without hesitation he plunged into the water, and
swam off, hoping to reach one of the vessels, on board which he might be
received and concealed. His pursuers, expecting a flogging should he
escape, dashed in after him. The heads of the three men could scarcely
be discerned when the officer, with the main body, reached the quay. In
vain he shouted to Tom to return and not to risk his life, while he
ordered some of his men to push off in a boat and overtake the swimmers.
No boat was, however, to be found afloat in the neighbourhood. Some
were hauled up on a slip, but they were under repair, and no oars were
in them. The people who had been mobbing the press-gang had collected
on the quay, keeping at a safe distance, and they now uttered cries of
encouragement to Tom to persevere, while they hurled execrations on the
heads of his pursuers; their voices, joined with those of the shouting
seamen, creating the wildest possible uproar. In a short time the
splash of oars was heard, and a boat was dimly seen at some distance
from the shore. The officer shouted to the people in her to take his
men on board, but his orders were unheeded.
Almost within hail lay the _Amity_. Could Ralph once get on board her
he was safe. At that moment he caught sight of a lad running by.
"Here, boy," he cried out, in spite of the growls of some of the
press-gang near him, "there's a golden guinea for you if you'll get
aboard the _Amity_, tell Captain Mudge that his mate, Ralph Michelmore,
has been pressed, and ask him to bring my protection, which he will find
in my jacket pocket, on board the _Falcon_. She sails to-morrow early,
so there is no time to be lost; or, if you can get off at once--and you
shall have thirty shillings if you do--he may overtake us before we
reach the boats."
"Trust me, mate," answered the lad, a sharp young mud-larker. "I should
just like the feel of a little earnest-money, though, to show that I am
not being sent on a fool's errand."
The seamen laughed, and told the boy that such was very likely to be the
case. Ralph, however, found a crown piece in his pocket.
"Here, my lad," he said, giving it to the boy; "notwithstanding what
they say, I will trust you. What's your name, that I may know you
again?"
"I'm sometimes called Peter Puddle, and sometimes Muddy Legs, and all
sorts of names, for that matter; but I'm no ways particular."
"Well then, Peter Puddle, be smart about it, and gain the rest of your
reward," said Ralph.
The lad, with a shout of delight, taking the money, ran off, and Ralph
was left in doubt whether or not he would fulfil his commission.
The sailors laughed even more than before. "It's easy to see who's the
fool now," observed one of them.
The attention of the party was, however, quickly recalled to what was
going forward in the harbour. The boat before seen could be discerned
dimly in the distance through the gloom, and from the same direction
there came the sound of oars splashing, or people struggling in the
water, and loud cries and shouts mingled with fierce oaths, while now a
piercing cry rang through the night air. Some of the press-gang were
eager to jump in and swim to their shipmates' assistance, but the
officer forbade them, ordering three or four to make another search for
a boat. At length the sounds of struggling ceased, but which party had
been defeated it was impossible to ascertain.
The sound of oars in the water was now heard, and a boat was observed
slowly approaching the shore. She reached at length the jetty near
which the man-of-war's men were standing. Some of them went down to
meet her, and a shout proclaimed that their shipmates had returned,
though without a prisoner. The two men were lifted out of the boat, not
having strength to walk. Their arms and shoulders were fearfully
battered and bruised, and the head of one of them was cut open. They
had reached the boat, when they were attacked by the men in her with
oars and stretchers, and they would have been drowned had they not got
hold of the gunwale, and, in spite of opposition, clambered on board,
and, after a desperate struggle, turned the occupants out, just at the
moment that another boat came up. The men, they believed, had been
taken on board her, as had, they supposed, the escaped prisoner; and, at
all events, she had made off and got out of sight.
Followed by a collection of men, women, and boys, still shouting and
hurling abuse at them, the press-gang, moving on, at length reached the
boats. Ralph and Dick were among the first not over gently hauled on
board; the rest of the captives were as quickly as possible shoved in
after them; a strong party of the press-gang remaining on shore to keep
back the mob, which seemed inclined to make a rush at the last, for the
purpose of rescuing some of their friends. Their courage, however,
failed them. The last of the man-of-war's men leaped on board, the
order to shove off was given, and the boats proceeded down the Sound,
followed by the yells and execrations of the people on shore.
"They'll hurt their own throats more than they do us," observed an old
seaman who was pulling at the thwart on which Ralph and Dick sat. "It's
hard lines, though, you think, for yourselves, mates, I dare say; but
before long you'll be used to a life aboard a man-of-war, and be as
ready to press others as we were to press you."
"Justice is justice; and I shall never think it right to press men
against their will," answered Ralph. "I, however, hope to be free
to-morrow, as I have a protection which will be brought on board to me."
"Don't count too much on that, mate," said the old sailor; "when they've
got a man, they're not in a mind to let him go. It's wisest to make the
best of a bad job, and that's what I advise you to do, my hearty."
"If I had only myself to think of, I would," said Ralph, liking the tone
of the old sailor's voice; "but I was to be married next week, and it's
bitter hard to be parted from the girl one loves, and harder for her."
Ralph's voice trembled as he spoke.
"Ay, mate, hard, very hard!" answered the old sailor, in a sympathising
tone; "I know what it is. I was pressed the very day I had married as
sweet a young girl, and as good too, as an honest man would wish to have
for his wife. I had five years of it out round the Cape without ever
hearing a word of her, but I knew she would be true to me, and that kept
my heart up. I got home at last, with plenty of prize-money to set up
house, but she was gone. They showed me her grave. It might have been
worse--I know that--still it seemed as if the life had been crushed out
of me. I left my money with her childless mother, and volunteered
aboard the first ship I heard of fitting out for a foreign station.
From that day to this I've been at sea, turned over from one ship to
another, and never saved a sixpence. I wish I had. I'd have got your
discharge, that I would, if money could have done it."
"Thank ye, from the bottom of my heart, old friend," said Ralph, warmly.
"Maybe I shall get my protection paper in time, and be set free."
"Wish I could say I thought so. But you'll know at least that there's
one aboard the _Falcon_ who can feel for you, and that's something; ay,
and will stand your friend if there's a chance. Cheer up! Cheer up!
Here we are, close alongside the frigate."
The pressed men, with Ralph and Dick among them, were sent down to the
lower deck, and placed under charge of a sentry. They were allowed to
stretch themselves on (as Dick, while bemoaning his fate, remarked) "the
softest planks they could find," for the remainder of the night.
It seemed but a moment after Ralph had at length fallen asleep, that he
heard the boatswain's shrill whistle and the deep rough voices of his
mates rousing up all hands, while the pale light of early morning
streamed down through the hatchways. The next cry which reached him
was, "Hands aloft; loose sails." Other orders were issued; he knew too
well their meaning; preparations were being made for immediately putting
to sea.