“Why, what’s this, madam?” says the Captain, turning round quickly; and he laid his hand on Mr Freyne’s heart and brow, then stood up and looked at me with a countenance so full of pity that I found myself raising my hands as though to ward off a blow. “Dear madam, your father will suffer no more,” he said. I stood with my hands upraised, staring stupidly at him.
“Your father has passed away in his sleep, madam,” he said, with great gentleness.
“My papa dead?” I cried. “Then I’ll die with him!” and I threw myself down beside the bed; but the Captain raised me instantly.
“Madam, your papa employed his last strength in seeking to secure your safety. Will you suffer that sacrifice to be in vain? If you remain here alone, you’re lost. Sergeant, give Miss your arm on t’other side.”
I had no power to resist, though I could read in the Captain’s words that my papa’s efforts to divert Omy Chund from his search for me had so exceeded his strength as to cost him his life, and I felt myself half-dragged, half-carried away by the two men. I remember that the Captain’s sleeve was stiff, and that he winced when I first catched his arm. It did not then occur to me what this signified, but now I know that he must have been wounded, and that the blood was dried on his clothes.
We were now inside the barracks, where we had thought we were intended to remain; but the guard still pressed upon us, some presenting their pieces, others with their scymitars drawn, all forcing us on towards a door that stood open at the end of the place nearest the bastion. Seeing this, the sergeant who was supporting me on the left gave a great laugh.
“Why, ’tis naught but the black hole!” he cried, “and that’s none so dreadful. I ought to know, for many a night I’ve passed there, though not many on ’em sober, I must say. So keep up your heart, madam.”
“The black hole?” says Captain Colquhoun, in a voice of great apprehension. “Sure they won’t attempt to confine us all there? The place en’t but 15 feet square.”[04]
But the prodigious efforts he made to turn back were fruitless, for those behind pressed us on, being themselves drove forward by the guards, and ignorant of the nature or extent of the place they were entering, jesting as they came, until all were inside, when the door was immediately shut, condemning a good hundred and fifty[05] unfortunate wretches to the most dreadful of deaths, for, so far as I know, I alone among the victims am escaped to tell the tale (and who knows whether this writing of mine may ever come into the hands of any that will make known our fate? since for very shame’s sake the Moors must surely conceal the frightful truth). The chief thought of the unhappy beings who were the last forced into the room was to get the door opened again, but having no tools, they laboured in vain. Meanwhile, my two supporters dragged me through the crowd towards the two small barred windows opening on the varanda, the gentlemen making way with the most engaging politeness in answer to Captain Colquhoun’s cry of “Room for the lady, if you please, gentlemen!” In the window nearest to the door Mr Holwell and two other gentlemen, both badly wounded, were already seated, clinging to the bars; but at the second, although the sill was occupied, my protectors succeeded in finding a place for me close underneath, where they guarded me with their own persons from those who would have sought to drag me away. Close beside me was poor Mrs Carey, whose spouse was supporting her with an equal resolution, and she addressed herself to me with a pitiful laugh.
“La, miss! so you was there after all? En’t it monstrous uncivil of the Moors to confine us in such a place? I vow I shall swoon in a minute.”