“Ha! Mr. Barton,” the Slogger shouted, as he dealt tremendous blows right and left at the assailants who rushed at him, “it's my turn now. You shan't go out from here with a whole skin. A spy!—a spy!” he shouted; but the tumult was too great for his voice to be heard. For some little time the three men had easily beaten off their assailants, but matters were momentarily becoming more serious. The men on the platform were breaking up the chairs and tables, while others tore down portions of the woodwork to form weapons. These now pressed forward through the crowd as they fell back in dismay from their formidable opponents.
“I think it's about time to make a bolt, sir.”
In the meantime, Prescott had had a quiet encounter of his own with the door-keeper—who had been signally worsted, and had run out into the street—and was now holding the door ready to close it as the others retreated. After a rush upon the assailants, in order to drive them back, and gain time for the manœuvre, the three men made a hasty retreat through the door, which Prescott instantly closed and locked behind them, and in another instant they were out in the New Cut.
“Come the other way, sir,” Perkins said, “there's a cab-stand under the railway-arch, and if them fellows get out and find us, they'd be as likely to knife us as not.”
“And no mistake, sir. As good a turn-up as I've had for a long time. There'll be some smartish black eyes in the morning.”
“Do you think there is really going to be a row with these Chartists, Perkins?”
“I don't think so, sir. They don't mind the bobbies, but they'll never stand against the red coats. I'm going to-morrow to get sworn in as a special. I ain't going to have them coming in to the ‘Stunners’ to help themselves without pay. I don't know, and I don't care, a rap about the charter, and I don't believe one in fifty of them knows theirselves. What they want isn't the charter so much as their neighbour's goods. Well, they won't get my beer till some of 'em have gone down. They'll find that they have to pay for it one way or the other. Here we are, sir, and I ain't sorry, for I don't know that I was ever so dry in my life.”
“So am I, Perkins; the heat and stench in that place was tremendous. The fighting, too, was warm while it lasted. I don't think any of us got hit.”