he present day. A man standing in this way on the deck of
a boat, within speaking distance of the shore, might, with a rifle, or
even with a musket, have been killed in a moment by any one of the
thousands on the shore. In those days, however, when the only missiles
were spears, javelins, and arrows, a man might stand at his ease
within speaking distance of his enemies, entirely out of reach of
their weapons.

When the crowd upon the shore saw that the king was waving his hand
to them in order to silence them, and that he was trying to speak,
they became in some measure calm; and when he asked again what they
wished for, the leaders replied by saying that they wished him to come
on shore. They desired him to land, they said, so that he could better
hear what they had to say.

One of the officers about the king replied that that could not be.

"The king can not land among you," he said. "You are not properly
dressed, nor in a fit condition, in any respect, to come into his
majesty's presence."

Hereupon the noise and clamor was renewed, and became more violent
than ever, the men insisting that the king should land, and filling
the air with screams, yells, and vociferations of all sorts, which
made the scene truly terrific. The counselors of the king insisted
that it was not safe for the king to remain any longer on the river,
so the oarsmen were ordered to pull their oars, and the barge
immediately began to recede from the shore, and to move back up the
river. It happened that the tide was now coming in, and this assisted
them very much in their progress, and the barge was swept back rapidly
toward the Tower.

The insurgents were now in a great rage. Those who had come down to
the bank of the river to meet the king went back in a throng to the
place where the great body of the rebels were encamped on the plain.
The news that the king had refused to come and hear their complaints
was soon spread among the whole multitude, and the cry was raised, To
London! To London! So the whole mighty mass began to put itself in
motion, and in a few hours all the roads that led toward the
metropolis were thronged with vast crowds of ragged and
wretched-looking men, barefooted, bareheaded; some bearing rudely-made
flags and banners, some armed with clubs and poles, and such other
substitutes for weapons as they had been able to seize for the
occasion, and all in a state of wild and phrensied excitement.

The people of London were