"The chief magistrate of the town of Newport?" he demanded curtly.
"I am he, worthy sir," replied the mayor, all bravado having, for the moment, left him.
Without speaking, the messenger put on his steel cap, drew his sword, and saluted the startled mayor; then, returning the weapon to its scabbard with military smartness, he handed him a sealed packet.
Tearing the seals, the mayor read the contents of the letter in silence, and then looked at the messenger as if undecided as to his reply.
"Read! Read it aloud!" shouted the crowd, and, his courage slowly returning, the mayor raised his hand for silence, and then began to deliver the message in an almost inaudible voice.
"Louder! Louder!" was the cry and the chief magistrate handed the letter to the clerk, who stood at his elbow.
"'His Majesty, having raised his standard at Nottingham, doth hereby confer upon me authority to take active measures against rebels now assembled within the Isle of Wight, that lieth within my jurisdiction. I hereby order and request all loyal and liege subjects of His Majesty to repair to the castle of Carisbrooke. His Majesty hath desired it to be known that, should the emergency and the great necessity to which he is driven beget any violation of law, he hopes it shall be imputed to the authors of this war, and not to him, who hath so earnestly laboured to preserve the peace of the kingdom. —Signed, Portland, Governor of the Wight.'"
A confused babel of cheers, shouts, and groans greeted the governor's message, and the mayor, noting that hostile demonstrations held the uppermost hand, spoke up:
"You see, my friends, the perjurers of our liberty would have the blame placed upon the Commons and the people of England. This is an infamous lie."
Then, turning to the messenger: