“Is that you, William?” said the Lieutenant, astonished. “Put up your pistol; do not let them see you armed. What boy is this?”
“I will tell you, sir, when we get to the boat; but push on for the dock gates, they are getting furious. See that tall ruffian—I should like to shoot him—is exciting the mob.”
“How bloodthirsty you are, William,” said the Lieutenant, and then turning to some of the Commissioners, he urged their getting within the dock gates as soon as possible. The marines cleared the way, and in a few minutes they were safe within the gates, but not before the huge butcher, struggling through the crowd, had aimed a large brick with violence at our hero, shouting out—
“Take that, cursed aristocrat! I will have your head one of these days!”
The missile missed its intended mark, but knocked down one of the Commissioners in front. William Thornton would have shot the fellow instantly, but Lieutenant Cooke pushed him inside the gate with his little charge, saying—
“By Jove, you are a hot-headed boy; your impetuosity must be restrained!”
The great gates of the dock basin being closed, kept out the mob, and the party proceeded quietly along the jetty.
“I fear, Mabel,” said the midshipman, stooping and looking into the little pale face of his charge, “all this has frightened you very much.”
“Yes,” said the child, in her quiet, sweet voice; “but I am more frightened about mamma; and, awhile ago, I thought more of you, when that horrid man seized you, than of myself.”
“Well, please God, Mabel, your mamma will join us to-night. At all events, all danger to you is over; there is our boat yonder pulling in for the jetty.”