t was whispered that some persons in the garb of gentlemen
had gone on board of her in great haste. Perhaps they were Jesuits:
perhaps they were rich. Fifty or sixty boatmen, animated at once by
hatred of Popery and by love of plunder, boarded the hoy just as she was
about to make sail. The passengers were told that they must go on
shore and be examined by a magistrate. The King's appearance excited
suspicion. "It is Father Petre," cried one ruffian; "I know him by his
lean jaws." "Search the hatchet faced old Jesuit," became the general
cry. He was rudely pulled and pushed about. His money and watch were
taken from him. He had about him his coronation ring, and some other
trinkets of great value: but these escaped the search of the robbers,
who indeed were so ignorant of jewellery that they took his diamond
buckles for bits of glass.

At length the prisoners were put on shore and carried to an inn. A crowd
had assembled there to see them; and James, though disguised by a wig of
different shape and colour from that which he usually wore, was at
once recognised. For a moment the rabble seemed to be overawed: but the
exhortations of their chiefs revived their courage; and the sight of
Hales, whom they well knew and bitterly hated, inflamed their fury. His
park was in the neighbourhood; and at that very moment a band of rioters
was employed in pillaging his house and shooting his deer. The multitude
assured the King that they would not hurt him: but they refused to let
him depart. It chanced that the Earl of Winchelsea, a Protestant, but
a zealous royalist, head of the Finch family, and a near kinsman of
Nottingham, was then at Canterbury. As soon as he learned what
had happened he hastened to the coast, accompanied by some Kentish
gentlemen. By their intervention the King was removed to a more
convenient lodging: but he was still a prisoner. The mob kept constant
watch round the house to which he had been carried; and some of the
ringleaders lay at the door of his bedroom. His demeanour meantime was
that of a man, all the nerves of whose mind had been broken by the load
of misfortunes. Sometimes he spoke so haughtily that the rustics who had
charge of him were provoked into making insolent replies. Then he betook
himself to supplication. "Let me go," he cried; "get me a boat. The
Prince of Orange is hunting for my life. If you do not let me fly now,
it will be too late. My blood will be on your heads. He that is not with