and contrived to haul him out of the street door, where
they were collected together, and secured.

Now again I was in great difficulty; I had been knocked down and trod
upon, and when I did contrive to get up again, I did not know the
direction in which the door lay. I felt about by the wall, and at last
came to a door, for the room was at that time nearly empty, the women
having followed the men out of the house. I opened it, and found that it
was not the right one, but led into a little side parlour, where there
was a fire, but no lights. I had just discovered my mistake, and was
about to retreat, when I was shoved in from behind, and the key turned
upon me: there I was all alone, and, I must acknowledge, very much
frightened, as I thought that the vengeance of the women would be
wreaked upon me. I considered that my death was certain, and that, like
the man Orpheus I had read of in my books, I should be torn to pieces by
these Bacchanals. However, I reflected that I was an officer in his
Majesty's service, and that it was my duty, if necessary, to sacrifice
my life for my king and country. I thought of my poor mother; but as it
made me unhappy, I tried to forget her, and call to my memory all I had
read of the fortitude and courage of various brave men, when death
stared them in the face. I peeped through the key-hole, and perceived
that the candles were re-lighted, and that there were only women in the
room, who were talking all at once, and not thinking about me. But in a
minute or two, a woman came in from the street, with her long black hair
hanging about her shoulders, and her cap in her hand. "Well," cried she,
"they've nabbed my husband; but I'll be dished if I hav'n't boxed up the
midshipmite in that parlour, and he shall take his place." I thought I
should have died when I looked at the woman, and perceived her coming up
to the door, followed by some others, to unlock it. As the door opened,
I drew my dirk, resolving to die like an officer, and as they advanced I
retreated to a corner, brandishing my dirk, without saying a word.
"Vell," cried the woman who had made me a prisoner, "I do declare I
likes to see a puddle in a storm--only look at the little
biscuit-nibbler showing fight! Come, my lovey, you belongs to me."

"Never!" exclaimed I with indignation. "Keep off, I shall do you
mischief" (and I raised my dirk in advance); "I am an officer and a
gentleman."

"Sall," cried the odious woman, "fetch a m