Half a thousand jobless workers, armed and reckless, marched toward the docks. They bore torches.... "A hell-bent crew," said Ellis.
Chief Ellis and a squad of mounted policemen watched them as they marched down Second street, shouting threats and waving their firebrands. "They're a hell-bent crew," he said to William Coleman. "Is your posse ready?"
"Yes," he answered, "they've assembled near the dock. I've twenty companies."
"Good.... You'll need 'em all."
As he spoke a tongue of flame leaped upward from the darkness. Another and another.
"They've fired the lumber yards," the chief said. "I expected that. There is fire apparatus on the spot.... It's time to move."
He spurred forward, rounding up his officers. Coleman rode silently toward the entrance of the docks. Very soon a bugle sounded. There were staccato orders; then a tramp of feet.
The Citizens' army moved in perfect unison toward the fires. Already engines were at work. One blaze was extinguished. Then came sounds of battle. Cries, shots. Coleman and his men rushed forward.
Stones and sticks flew through the air. Now and then a pistol barked. The mounted police descended with a clatter, clubbing their way into the throng. But they did not penetrate far, so dense was the pack; it hemmed them about, pulling officers from their horses. The fire engines had been stopped. One of them was pushed into the bay.
More fires leaped from incendiary torches. The rioters seemed triumphant. Then Coleman's brigade fell upon them.