The peril of the prisoners bred a certain reckless turbulence among them. On the 29th May a mob collected in great numbers outside, carrying oaken boughs on pretence of commemorating the restoration. The guard was reinforced, lest the mob should attempt to break open the gaol. Inside the rebels were very noisy, and insulted their keepers; “but they were soon put out of a capacity of doing much harm, for by way of precaution they were all locked up before ten o’clock.” This hour of early closing was continued, and greatly resented by them. A few days later they made a great disturbance at the sound of a bell set up by order of the Lord Mayor to ring them to their apartments at the regular hour. They asked for the order. It was read to them, to their manifest dissatisfaction, for it referred the recent escapes to the unaccountable liberty of indulgence permitted them, and insisted that upon the ringing of the bell in question all should betake themselves to their apartments. Ten was the hour of retiring “at farthest”; any infringement of the rule would be followed by the deprivation of all freedom, and double irons for the offenders. Except Captain Silk, however, all acquiesced in the order. He alone, “with his usual impudence, bullied the keeper, and made many unbecoming reflections upon the Lord Mayor and sheriffs.” Nor did insubordination end here. A day or two later the Lord Mayor’s notice, which had been posted up in the various press-yard rooms, was torn down by the rebels in contempt of authority. A fresh and more serious riot soon occurred in the streets, on the occasion of the thanksgiving on the anniversary of Preston fight. Several visitors came to the rebels with rue and thyme in their hats and bosoms in contempt of the day; but the new keepers made bold to strip them of their badges and strew the floors with them, “as more worthy to be trodden underfoot than be worn by way of insult on that glorious day.” About midnight brickbats were thrown from the neighbouring houses upon the soldiers on guard; and the guard in retaliation fired up at the places whence came the attack. Mr. Carleton Smith, whose turn it was to sit up, feared some attempt was being made to break the gaol, and “leaping out to know the occasion of the firing, searched several of the houses; in doing which he was like to have been shot by a ball which came up to the room where he was.” But the loyalty of the rebels to their cause was not to be checked. It broke out again on the 10th June, the anniversary of the Pretender’s birth. “Captain Booth, whose window looked into Phœnix Court, was so insolent as to put out a great bunch of white roses at his window,” and several visitors of both sexes came wearing the same rebellious badges. But again the keepers pulled them out and threw them on the floor.