“A cruel, barbarous thing it is, too,” said Ben, “and ought to bring a curse on any government.”
“They press sailors generally,” said Charles; “but when they are very short of men they will take anybody they can get hold of. I have heard say they couldn’t press a squire’s son, or a man that owned land, and that they can’t go into a man’s house to take him; but, if they catch him outside, or going into the door, they will take him.”
“Can they take any of the quality?”
“No, indeed! all the misery comes on the poor in England.”
“I shouldn’t think,” said Fred, “that a poor man would dare to go out of doors.”
“Well, they don’t; leastways, in the night, when the press-gang is about. There was one time (I have heard my mother tell of it) when they were pressing blacksmiths.”
“What did they want of blacksmiths?”
“She said at that time they took blacksmiths and rope-makers, calkers, and shipwrights, and set them at work in the dock-yards on foreign stations, where they were building and repairing men-of-war. My uncle was a blacksmith; he had been warned that the press-gang were about, and was on his guard. But one night, just as he was getting into bed, there was a cry of murder right at his door-step. He ran out to help, and there was a man lying on the flags, and two others striking at him. The moment my uncle came out, the man who was crying murder jumped up, and all three of them rushed upon my uncle. It was the press-gang making believe murder to get him out of doors. He caught hold of the scraper on the step of the door, and cried for help. My aunt ran out and beat the press-gang with her broom, and the people in the block flung coals, and kettles, and anything they could lay their hands on, upon their heads. One woman got a tea-kettle of hot water, and was going to scald the press-gang; but she couldn’t without scalding my uncle. The people now rose, and came rushing from all quarters; but the police came, too, to help the press, and marines from the guard-house with cutlasses and pistols. His wife clung to him, and his children, and cried as though their hearts would break; but they put handcuffs on him, and dragged him away, all bleeding, and his clothes torn off in the scuffle.”
“What a bloody shame!” cried Ben, his face assuming that terrible expression which Charles had seen on it when the encounter between him and the land-pirates took place. “I wish I had been there; I’d have given some of them sore heads. But they are not so much to blame, after all. It is those that make the laws, and that set the press-gang at work. I should like to wring their necks for them.”
“I shouldn’t think,” said Joe, “such men would fight very well for the government that used them so.”