They went around inviting the authorities to try to put them on board.

In front of the governor's house they were gathered thickest, bawling sea-songs, circulating square faces, and dancing uproarious Virginia reels and old-country dances.

The police, including the reserves, stood in little forlorn groups, waiting for the command the governor was too wise to issue.

And I thought this saturnalia was great.
It was like the old days of the Spanish Main come back.

It was license; it was adventure.