The crowd on the shore formed itself, as if by a preconcerted plan, into two lines, 600 yards long, between which the men from the barges had to pass. As the first of the Pinkertons emerged from the barge Iron Mountain, it was seen that he carried his Winchester rifle. "Disarm him," yelled the crowd, and directly every one of the guards was forced to lay down his arms.
Then the Pinkertons came out, in a dilapidated looking string, walking, running or crawling as best they could. The first few passed through the lines without molestation beyond hoots, jeers and imprecations. Suddenly the fury of the mob broke out. A man struck a detective with his open hand. The example was contagious. Clubs and stones were used with demoniacal ferocity. Women, converted for the nonce into veritable furies, belabored Mr. Frick's janizaries with bludgeons, stoned them, kicked them and spat upon them. The hated Pinkerton uniforms were torn off and cast into the river. Cries for mercy were treated with derision.
As a means of identification the Pinkertons had been compelled to uncover their heads, and thus offered an easy mark to their half-crazed assailants.
"Men, for the love of God, have mercy on me," shrieked a gray-headed man, wounded and bleeding. Mercy! The time for that weakness had gone by. The suppliant was an accursed Pinkerton and again and again he was struck down and beaten before he reached the end of those terrible lines.
One young fellow, on leaving the gang-plank, threw himself on his knees, burst into tears and begged to be spared. Kicks brought him to his feet again, and he had hardly risen when he was felled to the earth by a blood-stained club.
The satchels and other small articles that the Pinkertons carried were snatched from them and destroyed.
Only those who were seriously wounded were permitted to pass without being attacked.
While this exhibition of barbarism was in progress, Hugh O'Donnell and a corps of aids, representing the advisory committee, made frantic efforts to shield the prisoners; but the mob, for the most part, owed no allegiance to the Amalgamated lodges, and set the officials at defiance. In fact, several of the men who made up the hastily-formed escort were themselves struck and reviled for their humanity.
The Pinkertons were led through the streets to the rink, or opera-house, suffering indignities all the way. Even children threw mud and stones at them. Arrived at the rink, the entire posse was driven in like a herd of sheep. Guards were placed and members of the Amalgamated Association, assisted by physicians of the town, attended to the wounded. Entrance to the rink was not secured without serious trouble. A crowd of Hungarians gathered here to take vengeance for the death of one of their countrymen who had fallen in the early morning skirmish. Women were among them and incited the men to mischief. When the Pinkertons appeared, a brawny Hungarian seized one of them by the throat and struck him in the face, while a stoutly-built woman belabored him with a club. A guard, placed there by the advisory committee, leveled his gun at the Huns, and shouted "Stand back, or by —— I'll shoot the next man or woman that raises a hand against them. We have promised to protect them and we'll do it, even if we have to use our guns." This declaration provoked a howl of rage and cries of "Kill the murderers." Instantly a dozen guns were leveled at the mob, and disaster might have followed, had not Burgess McLuckie come forward, commanded peace and assured the crowd that the Pinkertons would be locked up and held for murder. No further trouble was experienced in getting the bruised and battered prisoners into their temporary quarters.
A sorrier sight than these men presented when they were assembled after the horrors of the day's fighting in the barges and of the march to the rink could not well be imagined. By actual count, one hundred and forty-three of the survivors were suffering from painful wounds or contusions, and those who had by extraordinary good luck, escaped with a whole skin, were half dead from fear and exhaustion.