At length some of the officers from the Compter came out, and with the assistance of several other officers, a space of ground was obtained, and the individuals were rescued from their perilous situation and carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where they were promptly attended to by Mr. Birkett, the dresser to Mr. Vincent, the principal surgeon, who had been in attendance all night to receive any accident that might be brought in. Before nine o'clock, every bed in Colston-ward was occupied by persons who had been injured at the moment the barrier gave way, and many of them most seriously so.
As the hour of eight approached, the anxiety of the multitude became more intense, and every eye became directed towards the door through which the wretched criminals were to be led to the scaffold.
At half-past seven o'clock, the Sheriffs, accompanied by the Under-Sheriffs and several gentlemen to whom they had given permission to be present, entered the prison. The Sheriffs immediately proceeded to the condemned cells, where Mr. Wontner, the Governor, delivered the prisoners up to them for execution. The Sheriffs then proceeded to the Press-room, in which the strangers who had got admission to the prison were also admitted. The prisoners were soon after introduced by the Sheriffs' officers. Bishop entered first. That kind of stupor which we already noticed when the verdict of the jury was pronounced, was still more strongly upon him. He advanced in rather a drooping manner, his eye fixed on the ground. His step was slow without being firm, and his whole bearing was rather that of a man unconscious of, than of one indifferent to, the dreadful scene through which he was about to pass. He had got more than half way to the upper end of the room before he looked around; when he did, a kind of half-suppressed groan escaped him, as from one who was for a moment roused to a quick sense of an approaching violent death. But it was only for a moment, for at once he seemed to relapse into his former stupor: his eye was again bent on the ground, and he moved mechanically up to the officer, who stood ready to tie his hands, and stretched forth his arms, the wrists being closely pressed together. When that part of the preparation was concluded, he turned round and allowed his arms to be pinioned. This done, he took his seat at a side-bench without uttering a word. There were many persons in the room who seemed to think that this calm and quiet manner showed great firmness, but if they had seen him before, or watched him more closely, they would have perceived that there was nothing of real firmness in the man. His eye was sunk and heavy, and seemed to shrink from the gaze of those around him. It was for the most part fixed on the ground. One of the Under-Sheriffs took a seat by his side, and in a low tone asked him (we understood) whether he had anything more to confess. His answer was, 'No, Sir, I have told all.' The Under-Sheriff remained with him for a few moments, but the only answers we could hear from him were to the effect that he had nothing more to tell.
Williams was next introduced, and came up the room with the same short hasty step, which we noticed at the time of his sentence. Since then, however, his whole appearance had undergone the most terrible alteration. That cunning and flippant look, which we noticed in him on his trial, had left him, and had given place to a wild and frenzied stare. His look, as he entered the Press-room, was one of downright horror—every limb trembled as he approached the officer by whom he was to be pinioned, and his hands shook to that degree, that one person was obliged to hold them up while another bound the wrists together. While submitting to this operation, he frequently ejaculated, 'Oh, I have deserved all this, and more!—oh, I have deserved all that I am about to suffer!' One of the Under-Sheriffs now asked him whether he had anything more on his mind, or wished to make any further disclosure; he replied, 'Oh no, Sir, I have told all—I hope I am now at peace with God. What I have told is the truth.'
It was remarked that Bishop or Williams took no notice whatever of each other while they remained in the Press-room. Neither seemed to be conscious of the presence of the other, or to wish to avoid any recognition. The contrast in the manner of the two was very marked in this respect,—for Williams seemed relieved when any one addressed him, as if anxious to escape from his own thoughts, or to have his attention called off even for an instant, from the dreadful scene which approached him. Bishop, on the contrary, was sullen, and seemed rather desirous of avoiding any conversation. His answers, when addressed, were short, and delivered in a tone as if pained by any questions put to him.
After the operation of pinioning had been gone through, at a few minutes before eight, the Sheriffs, accompanied by their officers and the prisoners, proceeded towards the scaffold, the Ordinary reciting part of the funeral service. Bishop moved on in the same gloomy and desponding manner which we have already noticed. His appearance underwent no change as he approached to the foot of the scaffold. Williams became more and more agitated as he went on. Just as he came to the room which led out to the drop, he expressed a wish to see the Rev. Mr. Russell once more. That gentleman came forward, and while Bishop was led out, seated himself near him. Williams said something in a low tone, which we did not hear. Mr. Russell said to him, 'Now, Williams, you have but another moment intervening between you and death; and as a dying man I implore you, in God's name, to tell the truth. Have you told me the whole truth?'
Williams.—'All I have told you is true.'
Mr. Russell.—'But, Williams, have you told me all?'
Williams (still evasive).—'All I have told you is quite true.'