'Is your name Clarke ?' 'It is,' I answered.
'Your Christian name ?' 'Micah.' 'Living at ?' 'Havant.' The clergyman conferred for a few moments with a grizzly-bearded, harsh-faced man dressed in black buckram who stood at his elbow.
'If you are really Micah Clarke of Havant,' quoth he, 'you will be able to tell us the name of an old soldier, skilled in the German wars, who was to have come with ye to the camp of the faithful.' 'Why, this is he,' I answered; 'Decimus Saxon is his name.' 'Aye, aye, Master Pettigrue,' cried the old man.

'The very name given by Dicky Rumbold.

He said that either the old Roundhead Clarke or his son would go with him.

But who are these ?' 'This is Master Reuben Lockarby, also of Havant, and Sir Gervas Jerome of Surrey,' I replied.

'They are both here as volunteers desiring to serve under the Duke of Monmouth.' 'Right glad I am to see ye, then,' said the stalwart minister heartily.
'Friends, I can answer for these gentlemen that they favour the honest folk and the old cause.' At these words the rage of the mob turned in an instant into the most extravagant adulation and delight.