The transition from the Babel of sounds I have been describing to such perfect tranquillity was most striking, and impressed one with an involuntary feeling of awe. I was aroused by Coleman, who whispered in an undertone, “The sexton has peached, depend upon it, and the sooner we're off the better”.
“Yes, and I'll go in style too; so good-bye, and take care of yourselves,” exclaimed Lawless, and, springing forward, before any one was aware of his intention, he forced his way through the crowd, overturning sundry members thereof in his progress, until he reached the fire-engine, upon which he seated himself with a bound, shouting as he did so: “Forward, forward! do you want the place to be burnt to the ground? I'll show you the way; give 'em the spur; faster, faster, straight on till I tell you to turn—faster, I say!”
The appearance of authority, coupled with energy and decision, will usually control a crowd. The firemen, completely taken in by Lawless's manner, reiterated his orders; the post-boys applied both whip and spur vigorously—the horses dashed forward, and, amidst the enthusiastic cheering of the mob, the engine disappeared like a flash of lightning.
“Well, I give the Honourable George credit for that,” exclaimed Coleman, as soon as we had a little recovered from our surprise at Lawless's elopement with the fire-engine; “it was a good idea, and he worked it out most artistically; the air with which he waved his hat to cheer them forward was quite melodramatic. I've seen the thing not half so well done by several of the greatest generals who ever lived—gallant commanders, whom their men would have followed through any amount of the reddest possible fire during the whole of Astley's campaigns, that is, if the commissariat department (consisting of the pot-boy stationed at the side-scenes with the porter) did its duty efficiently.”
“Freddy, they're beginning to come out from the bell-tower,” interrupted I; “we shall be called upon to answer for our misdeeds if we stay much longer; see, that long man in the cocked hat is coming towards us.”
“So he is,” returned Coleman; “it strikes me they've found us out; follow me, and try and look as if it wasn't you as much as possible, will you?” So saying, he began to make his way out of the crowd unperceived, an example I hastened to follow; but we were not destined to effect our purpose quite so easily. The point Coleman wished to gain was an arched gateway leading into a stable-yard, from which he hoped, by a foot-path with which he was acquainted, across some fields, to reach without molestation the inn where I was to sleep. But, in order to effect this, we were obliged to pass the door of the bell-tower, from which several people, who appeared angry and excited, were now issuing. The foremost of those, the cock-hatted official before mentioned, made his way up to us, exclaiming as he did so:—
“Here, you young gen'lmen, just you stop a bit, will yer? His Wusshup, the mayor, seems to begin to think as somebody's been a making a fool of him.”
“A very natural idea,” returned Coleman; “I only wonder it never occurred to him before; as far as my limited acquaintance with him will allow me to judge, the endeavour appears to have been perfectly successful. I wish you a very good-morning.”