“There is the kind of young men I am looking for! Do you notice how fine he looks in his rig? I dare say he will soon be sailing across the ocean to fight for his King. Won’t you, my lad?”
“What I want is a second mate.”
(p. [18])
But I was already heated to the boiling point by the tidings I had heard, and, blazing with indignation that he should dare ask me, a loyal colonist, such a question, I blurted out:
“I’ll see His Majesty hung first! Do you think I’ll fight against my native country?”
“A rebel! A rebel! Right here among us! Seize him, comrades! Don’t let him escape! His Majesty knows what to do with such fellows. Seize him!” and he sprang towards me.
“Here he is, sir!” cried a stout teamster by my side, and he reached out his hand to hold me. But I eluded his grasp, and, turning, darted back down the street, with the whole crowd at my heels.
CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH I HAVE MY FIRST TASTE OF A BRITISH PRISON
Around the first corner and down to Watling Street I ran, taking the nearest course to the river, though I had no intention of returning to my ship. The startling news I had heard about the state of affairs in the homeland had fired me with a patriotism before which all thought of allegiance to the King vanished. I was inflamed with the desire to cross the ocean at once and throw in my lot with my struggling countrymen. For the present I would endeavor to escape my pursuers; later I would find some way to return to my native land.