Reluctantly, Shortland gave the order, and the red coats filed out, drawing up in line, behind which he carefully placed himself. The turnkey entered the building alone. He had been an old boatswain in the service, and drawing a silver whistle from his pocket he piped all hands. Then in a stentorian voice he ordered the prisoners into the yard. They all obeyed, crowding out to the number of one thousand or more, and they filed past the soldiers in a compact body. One of the last to leave the building was Harvey Rich. He tottered down, alone, and joined the crowd, that stood packed in a sullen body, crowded within a few paces of the handful of soldiers, who stood with their muskets cocked and ready. Soon the officer returned from his fruitless search. "The man cannot be found, sir," he said. Shortland swore viciously. "Turn them back in the building, then," he roared, "and keep them there without water. That will fetch them to their senses.--Back through that doorway, all of you," pointing with the heavy stick which he always carried, for he was a gouty man. But the prisoners had heard his threat, and not one of them moved a step. There was a large trough of clear water in the yard, to which they had free access. The weather was warm and clear. Suddenly one of them stepped forward. All eyes turned upon him. It was George Abbott. "We will not return there, under those conditions," he said loudly. "We will stay here, and die, first, every man Jack of us." A movement began among the prisoners. They crowded in closer in the narrow space, and a murmur as of a subdued cheer arose among them. Shortland was furious. "Seize that man," he cried; "seize him! He shall go without bread and water both." No one moved. "You cowards," he muttered. "I'll do it myself, then; make way here!" He crowded through the file of soldiers and approached the sailor, who was standing there calmly, with folded arms. But before he had taken three short steps, something most unexpected happened. Harvey Rich, who was standing but a few feet away, stooped swiftly and picking up a loosened bit of the stonework of the courtyard, he hurled it full at Shortland's head. It would have killed him had it struck him, but it only grazed his cheek. Shortland halted and retreated hurriedly. "Fire on them," he cried. "Take aim and fire." Thirty or forty muskets were brought to the shoulder. But the young officer in command of the detachment kept his senses. Calmly he walked out to the front. He knocked up the muzzles with his unsheathed sword. "Steady," he said. "As you were." Shortland flung an oath at him, and turning to the red coats he screeched at the top of his voice:-- "Fire, you rascals, fire!" Again the officer sprang forward and threw up the points of the muskets again. "As you were; steady, men."