"There goes lanky Jack, who flogged a boat's crew because his wife ran away with a sojer officer," screamed a woman in the crowd, as Captain Curt, a well-known advocate for the lash, walked down and entered the boat.
"Lord help Tom Clare if there's many more like him in the court," said another lady.
Some commanders were more popular, particularly with the Irish women, who formed no small part of the crowd; and gratuitous advice, such as, "Be aisy wid the poor boy, captain, aroon," or, "Say a good word for poor Tom, for the love of the mother of yez," were freely offered on all sides.
The spectators up to this time were, excepting in their observations, tolerably quiet. But when Commander Puffeigh, Lieutenant Crushe, Mr. Cravan, Mr. Shever, and the other witnesses, came down to the wharf, a loud yell of hatred broke from the people, and several stones were thrown at the officers. Unfortunately on their arrival at the end of the pier, they found no boat to receive them, and for ten minutes had to bear the insults of the mob.
Puffeigh was resplendent in a brand new uniform, which fitted him like a tight pair of boots; in fact, he was so well tailored, that he could scarcely breathe.
"Isn't that a picture for a tax-payer?" cried a voice.
"I say, don't Puffeigh look like old Stiff the beadle this morning?"
"That long beast of a lieutenant is the cove wot drove Tom to desert," roared a costermonger. Upon which a policeman who was near tried to arrest him, but he was hustled away from his grasp, and the man escaped.
At this moment a stone, thrown by some one at the back of the crowd, struck Crushe on the cheek. Turning round, his face livid with rage, he found himself confronted by an amazon, who coolly putting her arms akimbo, sneeringly asked him "if he would like to strike a woman?"
Shever, who knew the lady, thinking to curry favour, turned to her and said sharply, "I'm surprised at you, Mrs. Holloway."