23
rupees. The man went away—but returned, saying it was impossible. The prisoners, thinking the offer had been too low, tendered 2000 rupees. The man again went—and returned, saying that the nabob was asleep, and no one durst awake him. The lives of 146 men were nothing in comparison to disturbing for a moment the slumbers of a tyrant. Mr Holwell has described in detail the horrors of that fatal night, which are scarcely paralleled in the annals of human misery. Every moment added to their distress. All attempts to obtain relief by a change of posture, from the painful pressure to which it gave rise, only aggravated their sufferings. The air soon became pestilential, producing, at every respiration, a feeling of suffocation, the perspiration flowed in streams, and they were tormented with the most burning thirst. Unfortunately, the stations at or near the windows being decidedly the best, the most dreadful struggles were made to reach them. Many of the prisoners being common and foreign soldiers, exempt by this dreadful calamity from all subordination, made an intolerable pressure, and the sufferers, as they grew weaker, began to be squeezed or trampled to death. Loud cries being raised of "water!" the humane jemautdar pushed through the bars several skins filled with that liquid; but this produced only an increase of calamity, through the violent efforts made in order to obtain it. The soldiers without found a savage sport in witnessing these contests, and even brought lights to the windows in order to view them to greater advantage. About eleven, the prisoners began to die fast; six of Mr Holwell's intimate friends expired at his feet, and were trampled upon by the survivors. Of those still alive, a great proportion were raving or delirious; some uttered incoherent prayers, others the most frightful blasphemies. They endeavoured,
