They were all put into a large empty room, the window of which looked into a stone passage, which was itself lighted from the roof; the door was shut, locked, bolted, and barred, and they were left to their meditations.
They had not remained long there, however, when the bolts and bars were heard moving again.
“What say ’e to a rush, lads?” whispered one of the men eagerly.
“Agreed,” said Bill Bowls, starting forward; “I’ll lead you, boys.”
“No man can fight with his hands tied,” growled one of the others. “You’ll only be spoilin’ a better chance, mayhap.”
At that moment the last bolt was withdrawn, and the door swung open, revealing several files of soldiers with muskets, and bayonets fixed, in the passage. This sight decided the question of a rush!
Four of the soldiers entered with the turnkey. The latter, going up to Bill Bowls and Ben Bolter, said to them in broken English:—
“You follows de soldat.”
Much surprised, but in silence, they obeyed the command.
As they were going out, one of their comrades said, “Good-bye, mates: it’s plain they’ve taken ye for admirals on account o’ yer size!”