Holwell's side, came from the shore in a small boat and
boarded the Dodalay. Their appearance struck every one with amazement and
horror. Mr. Cooke was a merchant, aged thirty-one; Mr. Lushington a
writer in the Company's service, his age eighteen; but the events of one
night had altered them almost beyond recognition. They said that when the
order had been given to confine them in the barracks, the prisoners had
all expected to pass the night in comparative comfort. What was their
amazement when they were escorted to the Black Hole, a little chamber no
more than eighteen feet square, which was only used as a rule for the
confinement of one or two unruly prisoners. In vain they protested; their
brutal guards forced them, a hundred and forty-six in number, into the
narrow space, and locked the door upon them. It was one of the hottest
nights of the year; there was but one small opening in the wall, and
before long the want of air and the intense heat drove the poor people to
fury. They trampled each other down in their mad attempts to get near the
opening for air and the water which one of their jailers, less brutal
than the rest, handed in to them.
The horror of the scenes that passed in that small room baffles
description. Men and women in the agonies of thirst and suffocation
fought like tigers. Many prayed their guards to shoot them and end their
sufferings, only to meet with jeers and laughter. Some of the native
officers took pity on them and would have opened the door, but none durst
move without the Nawab's permission, or brave his fury if they roused him
from his sleep.
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