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Updated: June 25, 2025
Benbow and Punchard on the scene: And Nelly Hind's bashed portal closes On bandy legs and Roman noses; and ending thus: Carmen concludo sine mora: "Intus si recte ne labora," Lloyd, the master, mightily. The rage of the persons chiefly concerned knew no bounds, and this good came of it, that the Mohocks troubled Shrewsbury streets no more.
Seeing this, they quickened their pace, and in a few moments they would have had me at their mercy. But in that predicament I heard Joe Punchard whistling, through the open door of the shop where he did 'prentice work for old Matthew Mark, the cooper.
If he intended to say anything 'twas prevented by the entrance of Joe Punchard with news that all was ready. "Bring him along," I said, glancing towards Vetch. Joe unstrapped his legs, leaving his arms still bound, and they followed us from the room. We set off on our seaward march, having just time to regain the brig before the day became oppressive.
His round face, somewhat more weatherbeaten than when I saw it last, expressed amazement, incredulity, and half a dozen more emotions in turn. "Bless my soul!" he cried. "Sure 'tis little Humphrey Bold, growed mountain high. Give me the bag, sir; God forbid you should bear a load for Joe Punchard." "No, no," I replied. "I'll earn my groat, now I've begun.
"If one wasn't in such trouble," said Punch to himself, as he lay in the growing darkness beneath the great chestnut-tree, "one would have time to think what a beautiful country this is. But of all the unlucky beggars that ever lived, Private Pen Gray and Bugler Bob Punchard is about the two worst.
"I'll thrash the villain to a pulp! I'll send him to the plantations, I will! I'll break every bone in his body!" So Mr. Vetch roared and, much as I disliked him, I could not but feel a certain compassion, too, for all the world knew how he doted on his son. I looked around for Joe Punchard, to see whether he was in hearing of these threats, but he was not among the crowd. By and by came Mr.
"Here is the mairie," said my guide, stopping at a house above which a flag was flying. I thanked him, and whispering Punchard to keep an eye on the Frenchmen, and especially on the wagoner, I stepped boldly in and confronted the maire, a little man with a cocked hat over his gray wig. "Good evening, monsieur," I said pleasantly. The maire rose from his seat and returned my greeting.
"Oh, Mistress Hind," says Joe in a mournful voice, "here's a welcome to a poor worn-out old mariner as you used to befriend." "Who in the world are ye?" she asks. "Who but Joe Punchard, ma'am, that went away for rolling a barrel, and has been a-rolling ever since." "Ay, now I know your voice. Back like a bad penny, are ye? Come and see me tomorrow; I'm abed now."
They held me in some special consideration, which I no doubt owed partly to Joe Punchard, who had told them something of my story, and when at length I declared plainly our intention to escape, asked them if they would join hands with us, and impressed on them the necessity of maintaining silence about it, they one and all promised that never a word should pass their lips.
We had not gone very far, and had come to where the track runs between thin clumps of trees, when Joe Punchard suddenly left my side and darted into the woodland. His bandiness was no check upon his running. In a few seconds he was back, shoving before him a seaman much larger than himself, having one hand upon his neck and the other grasping his arm behind his back.
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