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I heard footsteps; a sound of the tread of feet came from Beach Street. I walked up the alley to the entrance of it, not for a moment doubting that the fellows coming along were Deal boatmen, fresh from doing business out at sea. Old Tom Martin called after me; I did not catch what he said; in fact I had no chance to hear; for when I reached the entrance of the alley, a body of ten or twelve men came right upon me, and in a breath I was collared, to a deep roaring cry of “Here’s a good sailor!”
CHAPTER IV.
I ESCAPE FROM THE PRESS.
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I struggled and was savagely gripped by the arm. I stood grasped by two huge brawny men, one of whom called out, “No caper-cutting, my lad. No need to show your paces here.”
“I am first mate of the Royal Brunswicker,” I exclaimed.
“You looks like a first mate—the chap that cooks the mate. You shall have mates enough, old ship—shipmates and messmates.”
“Let me go. You cannot take me; you know it. I am first mate of the Royal Brunswicker—the ship astern of the frigate——”