Hastily shutting and barring the gate, and ordering the porters to guard it, he flew to the room in which Tom and his companion were confined, and found the one tranquilly smoking his pipe, as we have related, and the other seated in a chair opposite him, and plunged in a reverie.
"Well, Sharrocks," said Tom, blowing a whiff from his mouth, and looking up quietly at him, "have you come to say that the boroughreeve has ordered us to be clapped in prison? ha!"
"I have come to set you free, gentlemen," said the wharf-master, blandly. "You are quite at liberty to depart."
"Ho! ho!" cried Tom. "You have altered your tone, methinks, Sharrocks."
"I am in no hurry," said Atherton. "I am quite comfortable here."
"But you must, and shall go," cried Sharrocks.
"Must! and shall!" echoed Atherton. "Suppose we refuse to stir!—what then?"
"Yes, what then, Sharrocks?" said Tom, replacing the pipe in his mouth.
The wharf-master was about to make an angry rejoinder, when a loud noise outside convinced him that the porters had yielded to the mob, and thrown open the gates.
"Zounds! they have got into the yard!" he exclaimed.