Five miles from Cottonopolis Bates was met by a man who had been a lieutenant in the 24th Massachusetts Volunteers during the Civil War, who took off his hat and said, “God bless our flag.” Manchester was reached on the 14th of November, and here the flag had an immense reception, the crowd in Market Street being so dense that the open carriage which the sergeant was obliged to enter could scarcely make headway.
Lodged at the Royal Hotel, he was presented with a Union Jack, and was pestered by several enterprising showmen, one of whom offered him as much as £60 a night for five weeks if he would only consent to lend himself and the flag; but this he resolutely declined to do.
From Manchester to Macclesfield he met with a repetition of the same hearty ovations. The crowd kept slapping him on the shoulders, shaking hands, slipping money into his pockets, hurrahing, singing, and even dancing with joy before the glorious old flag.
At Macclesfield he was treated like a prince, royally entertained, and presented with a gold breast-pin by the Mayor. Through Congleton, Burslem, Stafford, Wolverhampton, and so on to Birmingham, the march was like that of a triumphant warrior, the crowds at Bates’s heels, marshalled in military order, tramping along singing the national melodies of the two countries, “Rule Britannia” and “Yankee Doodle” being the favourite airs.
At West Bromwich, where the flag-bearer stood for a moment to salute the Union Jack, a man rushed out and crowned his flagstaff with laurel. He entered Birmingham escorted by a crowd of all classes, both sexes and all ages, and the proprietor of the “Hen and Chickens” Hotel placed the house, the wine-cellar, and even his cash-drawer at his guest’s disposal.
The crowd from Birmingham followed him for some miles out of the town. There was a vast amount of hand-shaking, and several women insisted on embracing him, one old lady hugging him so unmercifully that she, he, and the flag were nearly sent sprawling in the mud.
One workman, bareheaded and without his coat, headed the procession in a perfect frenzy of excitement, and shook hand with Bates about every five minutes. It appeared that he had served on the Alabama, and seemed to think that he was atoning for past transgression and ridding himself of the stigma of having fought against the Union.
Warwick was visited, and the castle inspected. The sergeant was shown over Shakespeare’s birthplace at Stratford-on-Avon by a Mrs. Hathaway and a lady aptly quoted to him the line:
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace.