As the letter of marque drew still nigher, Israel heard the officer in command of the party ashore shouting, “To the castle! to the castle!” and so, surrounded by shouting throngs, the company moved on, preceded by the three drawn swords, ever and anon flourished at the rioters, towards a large grim pile on a cliff about a mile from the landing.  Long as they were in sight, the bulky form of the captive was seen at times swayingly towering over the flashing bayonets and cutlasses, like a great whale breaching amid a hostile retinue of sword-fish.  Now and then, too, with barbaric scorn, he taunted them with cramped gestures of his manacled hands.

When at last the vessel had gained her anchorage, opposite a distant detached warehouse, all was still; and the work of breaking out in the hold immediately commencing, and continuing till nightfall, absorbed all further attention for the present.

Next day was Sunday; and about noon Israel, with others, was allowed to go ashore for a stroll.  The town was quiet.  Seeing nothing very interesting there, he passed out, alone, into the fields alongshore, and presently found himself climbing the cliff whereon stood the grim pile before spoken of.

“What place is yon?” he asked of a rustic passing.

“Pendennis Castle.”

As he stepped upon the short crisp sward under its walls, he started at a violent sound from within, as of the roar of some tormented lion.  Soon the sound became articulate, and he heard the following words bayed out with an amazing vigor: 

“Brag no more, Old England; consider you are but an island!  Order back your broken battalions! home, and repent in ashes!  Long enough have your hired tories across the sea forgotten the Lord their God, and bowed down to Howe and Kniphausen—­the Hessian!—­Hands off, red-skinned jackal!  Wearing the king’s plate,[A] as I do, I have treasures of wrath against you British.”

[Footnote A:  Meaning, probably, certain manacles.]

Then came a clanking, as of a chain; many vengeful sounds, all confusedly together; with strugglings.  Then again the voice: 

“Ye brought me out here, from my dungeon to this green—­affronting yon Sabbath sun—­to see how a rebel looks.  But I show ye how a true gentleman and Christian can conduct in adversity.  Back, dogs!  Respect a gentleman and a Christian, though he be in rags and smell of bilge-water.”

Filled with astonishment at these words, which came from over a massive wall, enclosing what seemed an open parade-space, Israel pressed forward, and soon came to a black archway, leading far within, underneath, to a grassy tract, through a tower.  Like two boar’s tusks, two sentries stood on guard at either side of the open jaws of the arch.  Scrutinizing our adventurer a moment, they signed him permission to enter.

Arrived at the end of the arched-way, where the sun shone, Israel stood transfixed, at the scene.