“Follow her, Le Bourse,” said my patron. “She is at her wits’ end. She has had great wrong. I fear she will do something rash.”
The news of the priest’s arrest had already got abroad, and also the truth about the French fleet. Although it confirmed their fears the people felt more at ease, for they knew now what to expect, and had full confidence in the governor. When I reached the gate of the fort a crowd of loiterers was gathered about the Marmaduke pump. When my lady appeared they greeted her with cheers.
“Good friends,” she said.
“Silence there,” cried several. “Lady Marmaduke is speaking.”
In a moment there was silence.
“Good friends, good people, I believe you love me and my house. I have come to throw myself upon your protection.”
There were more cheers, and cries of: “We will!” “Hear, hear.” “Right or wrong we’ll follow Lady Marmaduke.”
“But it is right,” she continued, silencing them with her hand. “There has been a great wrong. The patroon of the Hanging Rock has been trying to sell the city to the French.”
“Down with the French! Down with the Van Volkenberg! Treason, treason!”
There were some of my own countrymen in the crowd, but they shouted with the rest. Our French persecutors were not considered as fellow-countrymen in those days.