The man stared, swore, caught sight of Martin, then suddenly shouted:
“Frenchy! Ho, boys, here’s one of the foreign spies what sets us afire. Down with all Frenchies!”
They were near the end of the lane, and the man’s words were heard and taken up by the crowd in Cheapside. A number of roughs surged towards them, and the accuser, finding himself supported, turned on the Frenchman, dealt him a violent blow, and started to tear his coat off.
“Away, you coward!” cried Martin, rushing forward to help the old gentleman; but a burly ruffian caught him in his arms and hurled him back.
At this moment there was a cry from behind.
“Why, it’s Martin Leake! Clubs! Clubs! ’Prentices to the rescue!”
A tall figure dashed past Martin, who was staggering under the big man’s assault, and with doubled fists attacked the aggressor with a whirling ferocity that drove him back reeling. In the lad who had come to his help Martin recognised his fellow-'prentice and opponent, George Hopton.
Next moment from several doors in the neighbourhood darted one or more flat-capped ’prentices brandishing the clubs from which they took their rallying cry.
For centuries the London ’prentices had been renowned for their prowess in faction fights among themselves and against the rougher elements of the population. The street now rang with the cry “Clubs! Clubs!” and those formidable weapons were soon thudding on the heads and shoulders of the rabble.
The Frenchman had fallen to the ground, but rose when his assailant turned to defend himself against the ’prentices, and leant, bruised and shaken, against the wall. The success of the ’prentices’ attack was due to its suddenness rather than its strength. There were only about six of them altogether, and the man with the scar, seeing that no more were joining them, again raised his cry of “Down with all Frenchies!” and called on all true Englishmen to support him.