Tom and his wife came out of their place of concealment, and begged she would not take on so, as it was no fault of hers that the man had given the information; but the kind creature was with difficulty assured "it might all turn out to be nothing." She felt that, after all the poor fellow's trouble, he would be captured and flogged, and their arguments only increased her sympathy for the unfortunate couple. However, the afternoon passed away with no more signs of the corporal, and by six o'clock everything was in readiness. The old folks had embraced their girl, and poor Tom was leading her out, when suddenly a party of marines rushed into the house, and the corporal in charge laid hands on Clare, and told him he was his prisoner. Polly clung to her husband's arm, not fully realizing the dreadful truth; but soon she saw all, and that Tom was about to be torn from her. Rushing between the corporal and her husband, and endeavouring to force him from the former's grasp, she raved like a mad woman. "You dare touch him! Take your hands away, you wretch! Do you hear? Leave go!" Clare was about to speak to her, when the corporal said with a sneer, "Pull that thing away, and gag her if she gives any more of her talk. She need not make such a fuss; she'll soon find another feller." These words had hardly passed his lips before Tom had the speaker down upon the floor, with both his hands tightly clutching the soldier's windpipe. "You brute, I'll kill you!" he yelled. And he seemed likely to carry out his threat. However, the marines threw themselves upon the deserter, who, after a desperate struggle, was beaten senseless, handcuffed, and dragged away. When the old fisherman, his wife's father, saw how brutally they ill-treated Tom, he seized a stick and endeavoured to assist him, but was overpowered and beaten, until he, too, lay like a dead man, the corporal encouraging his men "to pitch into the old scoundrel." Polly and her mother were happily unconscious of the last part of the outrage, both having fainted when Clare seized upon the soldier. Some neighbours, aroused by the screams of their landlady, came to the assistance of the women, who after a short time were restored to their senses. When Polly became somewhat composed, she asked for her husband. "Where is my love? Where is my brave, handsome husband? Gone? Have those wretches taken him? You coward, father, to let them take my Tom! O God! They'll flog him! I can't bear it! Let me go! I shall go mad!" And the poor girl had fit after fit, until they feared she would die of exhaustion. The heart-broken old people watched her through the night, thinking and almost praying that death would come to her relief.