the most ruffian-like and least scrupulous of the
crew were employed in the pressgangs, for they often had very brutal
work to perform. The men into whose hands I had fallen were as bad as
any I had ever met. They seized me with the greatest ferocity, dragged
me out of the waggon, and would not listen to my prayers and entreaties
to be allowed to wait till my wife came to her senses; and before even I
had time to speak to the waggoner, in spite of all the violent struggles
I made to free myself, they hauled me off along the road as if I had
been one of the worst of malefactors. In this they were encouraged by
Iffley, who seemed to take a malignant pleasure in seeing me
ill-treated, though he did not himself attempt to lay hands on me. When
I tried to cry out, I found a gag thrust into my mouth, and thus I was
rendered speechless as well as in every other way powerless.

My captors hurried me away, and with a feeling amounting to agony, I
lost sight of the waggon. At first it occurred to me that Iffley had
gone back for the purpose, as I dreaded, of speaking to my wife, and
perhaps adding to her misery; but had he entertained such a thought, he
had not dared to face her, for I saw him directly afterwards following
close behind me, encouraging the other men to hasten along.

Though I made all the resistance of which I was capable, in the hopes
that something or other might occur to enable me to free myself, we soon
reached the entrance to Portsmouth.

Instead, however, of proceeding down the High Street, Iffley led the way
down one of the by-streets to the right. Just as we were passing under
the ramparts I looked up, and there I saw walking up and down, as if to
enjoy the breeze, a person whom I recognised at a glance as Uncle
Kelson. The moment I saw him, hope revived in my breast. I could at
all events tell him to go in search of my wife. Perhaps he might even
find means to liberate me; but when I tried to sing out, the horrible
gag prevented me speaking. I could only utter inarticulate cries and
groans.

In vain I shrieked. He did not even turn his head; the sounds were too
common. He thought, probably, that it was only some drunken seaman, who
had outstayed his leave, dragged back to his ship.

At length, for a moment, he looked round. I struggled more vehemently
than before. I fancied that he must recognise me, but, urged by Iffley,
my captors dragged me on faster than ever, and turning a corner w