But the blood of the citizens was up, and a trifle was not to stay them. Will Wiseman had, as usual, managed to get into the forefront of the crowd, and as they halted beside the church, wondering how to get at the stores, he cried out boldly,—
"Help me up, good people; hoist me on your shoulders. Let me but get footing on yonder ledge, and I'll get the window open and throw you out the arms as fast as you can catch them!"
A shout was the answer, and in another minute I saw the bold Will swarming up to the leads of the church roof, followed by first one and then another active man or lad. To wrench open the windows, to get at the store of arms, to pass them to those below until nothing remained within the tower, was but the work of an hour. By six o'clock every capable citizen of Taunton was armed and equipped. Those who had horses were already talking of going forth to meet the Duke and escort him to the loyal town. Women were hanging their windows with the costliest stuff their stores contained; children were going forth, as from Ilminster a few days before, to get flowers for garlands and green boughs for arches. We laughed aloud in the joy of our hearts. We shouted for the Duke till our throats were sore. Every flying scout who came into the city brought some fresh tale of disaster to the King's forces, and of triumph to the Duke's. Our Mayor had not shown his face since dawn. It was supposed that he and the magistrates, and those of the Burgesses who could not bring themselves to declare for the Duke, were hiding away in fear of the anger of the people, and the possible punishment the new King (as some of us boldly called him) might inflict upon them for their resistance.
Mr. Axe, indeed, came towards us, to try to speak in the name of order and authority; but an excited citizen marched up to him with a musket, and exclaiming, "We will not hear you! the town is ours!" looked so threatening in his aspect that the clergyman quietly retired.
And then the cry broke out,—
"Loose the prisoners! Release Mr. Vincent! Have out the loyal knaves, who will raise a shout for the Duke!"
No sooner said than done. The prison was broken open by the mob. Mr. Vincent appeared before our eyes carried high on the shoulders of the wildly-cheering crowd.
"A Monmouth! a Monmouth! Down with Popery! Down with tyranny! A Protestant King for England! A Monmouth! a Monmouth!"
There was no resisting that sort of shout; we joined in it almost to a man. Even my uncle, who took no open part in these proceedings, remembering perhaps that as Capital Burgess he was expected to be on the side of law and order, could not refrain from adding a cheer as the procession went by. The crowd, despite the efforts of Mr. Vincent to free himself from their well-meant attentions, insisted on carrying him in triumph through all the main thoroughfares, shouting themselves hoarse the while; whilst other inferior prisoners were treated to as much ale and sack as they could drink, and were listened to with admiration and delight as they told the tale of their capture. We were assured by this time that all England would declare for the Duke, and that he would make Taunton his capital in the West, and perhaps even allow himself to be crowned here (so fast did our imaginations and our tongues outrun reason and sense); that his enemies would fly before him, and be scattered as we heard the forces of the Duke of Albemarle had already been. In our great joy we were like men intoxicated, and every sense was strained to catch the first tread of approaching horsemen, which should betoken the coming of the deliverer.
Toward four o'clock that same afternoon a mighty shout was raised: "He comes! he comes! The Duke! the Duke!" And men began rushing wildly towards the road from the south, by which approach to the town from the coast might be expected.