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Holwell, one of the few survivors of that awful night, the man whose narrative thrilled and still thrills, horrified and still horrifies, the civilized world, does give testimony that goes towards clearing the character of Surajah Dowlah from direct complicity in that terrible crime.
Get up off him! Don't you know enough, Gaffington, to tell when a man's down?" Andy heard the sharp voice of the coach, Holwell, but the tones seemed to come from a great distance. "Water here!" "Somebody's keeled over!" "It's that freshman, Blair. Plucky little imp, too!" "Who tackled him?" "Gaffington. Took him a bit high and fell on him!"
Once there was a chance for Elmwood to make another touchdown, but Jack Fitch slipped and fell in a mud-puddle, the ball rolling out of his hands. Then a Holwell played grabbed it, and kicked it out of danger on the next line-up. "Only a few minutes more," called the coach encouragingly, as the fourth quarter neared a close. "Hold 'em, boys!" And hold Tom and his chums did.
The details of this terrible tragedy and of the sufferings which the survivors subsequently underwent, are given in a letter from Mr. Holwell, from which it appears that his eventual release was brought about by the intercession of Aliverdi Khan's widow, who had in vain endeavored to dissuade the Nawab from attacking Calcutta, and had predicted that his doing so would be his ruin.
Holwell and three of his friends were loaded with fetters, and conveyed three miles to the Indian camp, where they lay all night exposed to a severe rain; next morning they were brought back to town still manacled, under the scorching beams of a sun intensely hot, and must infallibly have expired, had not nature expelled the fever in large painful boils, that covered almost the whole body.
His lady said, "But, my dear, where am I to put my piano?" and the bargain was at an end! On the third day Sir George Beaumont and Mr. Holwell Carr came to the Exhibition, having been deputed to buy the picture for the British Gallery. While they were discussing its merits, one of the officials went over, and put 'sold' on the frame, whereupon the artist says he thought he should have fainted.
"A mighty lucky accident for Yale, my friend!" exclaimed Holwell. "May there be more of such accidents!" Back in the gymnasium, later, after a refreshing shower, Andy managed to get away from the admiring crowd, and finding Chet took him to his room. Dunk was there before them. "This is a great and noble occasion!" he cried, as Andy came in. "I'm proud of you, my boy! Proud! Put her there!"
Holwell was an unselfish man, a man of the most generous impulses; he lived and died famous for these fine and rare qualities; yet when he found out what was happening to that unwatched sleeve, he took the precaution to suck that one dry first. The miseries of the Black Hole were able to change even a nature like his.
"Now, boys, all together, give 'em the 'Chase Down the Field! song!" "Over this way, Elmwood. We'll run through the signals again!" "Over here, Holwell, for some snappy work!" These were only a few of the many things heard on the Elmwood gridiron the Saturday of one of the big games.
He got it a moment later. A fake kick was called for, but there was a fumble, and Tom grabbed up the ball on the bounce. Tucking it under his arm, he ran for a hole he spied in the other line. Hands reached out for him, but he eluded them, and the fullback of Holwell, having been drawn in fatally close, was not able to stop our hero, who was running well. "Touchdown!
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