Such was the state of affairs, when one evening True Blue heard that an old shipmate of his in the Ruby was ill at a little public-house about three miles off, nearer the sea; so he at once set off to visit him, intending to bring him up to Mrs Pringle’s, if he was able to be removed, for he was a favourite and friend of Paul’s.
When he got there, he found a good many men in the house, mostly seamen, drinking and smoking in the bar. However, he passed on, and went up into the room where his old shipmate was in bed. He sat talking to him for some time, and then he gave him Mrs Pringle’s message, and told him that, as she had a spare room, he must come up there and stay till he was well. He had arranged to return with a cart the next morning, and had bid his friend good-bye, when, as he was on his way down the dark narrow stairs, he heard the door burst open, and a tremendous scuffle, and shouts, and oaths, and cries, and tables and chairs and benches upset, and blows rapidly dealt.
He had little doubt that a pressgang had broken into the house, and, though they lawfully couldn’t touch him, he instinctively hurried back into his friend’s room, knowing how unscrupulous many people, when thus engaged, were, and that if they got hold of him he would have no little difficulty in escaping from their clutches.
His friend, Ned Archer, thought the same. “Here, Billy,” he exclaimed, “jump out of the window! I will shut it after you, and you will be free of these fellows.”
There was not a moment to be lost. True Blue threw open the casement, and dropped to the ground. It was a good height; but to an active lad like him the fall was nothing, and he would have made no noise had not a tin pan been set up against the wall. He kicked it over, and, as he was running off, he found himself collared by three stout fellows, drawn to the spot by the clatter it made.
“You’ll have to serve His Majesty, my lad—that’s all; so be quiet,” said one of the men, for True Blue very naturally could not help trying to escape.
“I have served His Majesty long and faithfully, and hope before long to be serving him again afloat,” answered True Blue. “But just hands off, mates. You’ve got hold of a wrong bird. I belong to a sloop of war, the Gannet, and am away from her on leave.”
“A likely story, my lad,” said the officer commanding the pressgang, who just then came up. “You are fair-spoken enough; but men with protections don’t jump out of windows and try to make off at the sight of a pressgang. Whether you’ve served His Majesty or not, you’ll come along with us and serve him now—that’s all I’ve to say on the subject.”
The officer would not listen to a word True Blue had to plead, but with eight or nine other men, captured at the same time, he was forthwith marched down in the direction of the Hamble river.
It was a long tramp, and True Blue often looked round for an opportunity of escaping; but his captors were vigilant, and there seemed but little chance of his getting away. Never had he felt so anxious, and, as he expressed his feelings, downhearted, not for himself,—he believed that all would come right at last, as far as he was concerned,—but for those he left behind him. He thought how anxious and grieved Mary would be when he did not return; and though he was aware that ultimately she would ascertain that he had been carried off by a pressgang, he knew that that would not mend matters much.