Further away, Mr. Gibson looked from the Yeomanry to the hustings and back again. Mr. Hunt had paused in his speech and was talking to the other men on the platform.
“There’s Tommy Holmes,” Mr. Gibson heard a woman mutter. “Old man Holmes’s son. The wicked old bastard cut our pay and now sends his son to threaten us.”
Mr. Hunt waved his hat to regain the attention of the throng and raised his voice again. “This is a mere trick to interrupt our proceedings, good people. Stand firm! Be not alarmed! Stand firm! We are many, they are few. You see they are in disorder already. Let us greet them with three cheers!”
He led the salute, and whether it was intended in a spirit of respect or mockery, Mr. Gibson could not say, but the cheer was returned by the Yeomanry, some of whom pulled out their sabres and waved them about.
The third cheer faded away, succeeded by an uneasy silence. Fanny watched anxiously. From her vantage point, she could form no distinct idea of what was occurring, but the gathering, which had been so cheerful, even triumphant, now appeared agitated. The crowd moved and flowed like a field of wheat in a heavy wind.
Annabel had a better view from her box seat. The special constables, who until now had maintained a narrow corridor of space with their double line, began pushing back against the crowd on either side, widening the open space between them.
Annabel and the women in the barouche exclaimed in dismay and some stood up, the better to see what was happening. The working men in the crowd tried to push back against the constables, to push the two lines back together.
“Do not oppose them!” Mr. Hunt called over the growing clamour. “Do not oppose them!”
Charles heard Mr. Hunt shouting but could not make out what he was saying. “What was that?” he asked Benjamin. “What did he say?”
But Benjamin and his new friends were engaged in staring down the constables and resisting the order to step back.
A broadly-built, muscular man entered the open space made by the constables and walked quickly toward the platform. Jemmy groaned. “It’s Nadin! Nadin! He’s coming to take Mr. Hunt!” He brandished his stave like a spear, shaking it angrily. “Here’s for you, Nadin, you bastard!”
“Allow them to pass!” Mr. Hunt bellowed from the platform, “They are the representatives of the law!” But few heard him over the jeers and insults of the crowd. Hunt pointed to Benjamin and the angry men from Oldham who were pushing violently against the constables. “If those fellows there will not keep the peace, you must put them down and keep them down!”
A bugle sounded. Mr. Gibson turned toward the sound. He saw the men of the Yeomanry collect their reins in one hand, and pull out their sabres with the other.
“Oh good lord, no,” he murmured.
St. Peter’s Field, Manchester, August 16, 1819, 1:40 pm
The Yeomanry advanced quickly through the wavering corridor created by the constables, and overtook Nadin and his assistants.
“I will surrender myself to the magistrates!” Mr. Hunt called. “I will not be taken by the soldiers! I will surrender to the civil power, and the civil power alone!”
More men ran to join the solid wall of men formed up in front of the hustings, facing the advancing cavalry. They pushed and struggled so hard that the carts beneath the platform lurched. Mr. Hunt and Mrs. Fildes grabbed at each other to prevent themselves from falling.
Charles watched in horror as Benjamin came up behind one of the constables and, just before a horse rode past, shoved him hard with his shoulder. The constable sprawled forward and was trampled under the hooves of the horse. The rider kept going. The constable shuddered in the dust, face down, then lay still.
“What are you doing?!” Charles exclaimed in horror.
“Don’t we have a right to defend ourselves?” Benjamin demanded fiercely. “Don’t just stand there, lad. What did you come here for, if not to strike a blow for liberty?”
Meanwhile, the Yeoman cavalry slashed and hacked at the men protecting the hustings, who ducked and fled to avoid the slashing blades. At last, Mr. Nadin reached the ladder. He glared at Sam, who stepped away, obeying Mr. Hunt’s shouted commands. “Do not oppose them! Do not oppose them!”
Nadin pulled his bulky frame up the ladder and seized Mr. Hunt. Another man clambered up after him and reached for the banner carried by Mrs. Fildes—she resisted and struggled with him, the pole swung back and knocked her on the forehead. She staggered. He laughed. “Well done, woman, you are quite an Amazon!” With a vicious wrench, he grasped it from her hands and she turned to escape him, jumping off the platform. The man waved his captured banner in triumph and some of the Yeomanry cheered.
“Have at their flags!” shouted one of the riders, waving his sabre around above his head. “Take their damned banners!”
Suddenly, the cavalrymen moved on anyone near the platform who was carrying a banner. They hacked at the staves with their sabres, and slashed at anyone who resisted, or who could not get out of their way. An angry roar arose from the crowd.
The line of constables began to waver, and then melt.
As the crowd surged through and broke the constables’ cordon, the cavalry also found themselves surrounded with pushing, yelling, screaming spectators. Some of the horsemen turned away from the platform and pushed and trampled their way into the crowd.
Cries of “for pity’s sake, give way!” “Give way!” arose
