Toulon at this period contained nearly five thousand inhabitants within its walls; three parts of this population were Republicans, and so were the bulk of the fleet. Jean Plessis led the way some distance ahead, when suddenly, in turning the corner of a street, they encountered a mob, swearing and shouting furiously; and to the great astonishment of William Thornton, he perceived that a large body of the people surrounded Lieutenant Cooke and a few of the Committee, and were evidently bent upon obstructing their path to the dock gates, which were now in sight. In a moment the young man and his terrified charge were pushed out of the road, and the next instant became mingled with the riotous mob they had so unfortunately stumbled upon. Still holding Mabel by the hand, the midshipman, a resolute and strong youth for his age, sturdily strove to gain the side of Lieutenant Cooke[2] and the Commissioners, who were arguing with the mob; but just then a ferocious-looking man, with his neck and throat bare, no coat on his back, but with an apron and a butcher’s knife tied round his waist, suddenly clutched our hero by the collar, in a terrible grip, spluttering out: “Ah, cursed aristocrat Anglais, what are you doing with this boy?” Without a moment’s hesitation William Thornton drew a pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and putting it close to the man’s head, said— “Let go, ruffian, or you are a dead man!” The surly villain let go his hold with a horrid oath, and the midshipman, catching his young and terrified companion round the waist, burst through the startled group surrounding him, and the next instant was by Lieutenant Cooke’s side, just as a large body of the Committee and a Royalist guard of marines came up to protect the British envoy. “Is that you, William?” said the Lieutenant, astonished. “Put up your pistol; do not let them see you armed. What boy is this?” “I will tell you, sir, when we get to the boat; but push on for the dock gates, they are getting furious. See that tall ruffian—I should like to shoot him—is exciting the mob.” “How bloodthirsty you are, William,” said the Lieutenant, and then turning to some of the Commissioners, he urged their getting within the dock gates as soon as possible. The marines cleared the way, and in a few minutes they were safe within the gates, but not before the huge butcher, struggling through the crowd, had aimed a large brick with violence at our hero, shouting out— “Take that, cursed aristocrat! I will have your head one of these days!” The missile missed its intended mark, but knocked down one of the Commissioners in front. William Thornton would have shot the fellow instantly, but Lieutenant Cooke pushed him inside the gate with his little charge, saying— “By Jove, you _are_ a hot-headed boy; your impetuosity must be restrained!” The great gates of the dock basin being closed, kept out the mob, and the party proceeded quietly along the jetty.