I thought again.
Perhaps they had a reason, too.
Then it all came over me. I became a human being all in a minute when I thought of it.
I became suddenly full of courage for the hateful dockers.
I thought how much more discouraging it would be if they had not been hateful at all.
I do not imagine God was sorry when He heard those fifty thousand dockers asking Him to strike Lord Devonport dead.
Not that He would have approved of it.
It was not the last word of wisdom or reasonableness. It was lacking in beauty and distinction as a petition, as being just the right form of prayer for those fifty thousand faultless dockers up on Tower Hill that afternoon (the whole of London listening, in that shocked and proper way that London has).
But I have not lost all courage for the dockers who made it.