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Updated: May 4, 2025
All this time I had preserved my self-control very well, but when this cry for water was raised, either the excessive pain I endured, or else the mere example of so many persons around me, so shook me that I could no longer command my motions, and I found myself screaming the words in Indostanee at the old Jemautdar as though I would have torn him in pieces.
It was now dark within the room, but outside some of the guards had lit torches, by whose light I distinguished one old man, a Jemautdar, who appeared a little touched with pity for our distress. To this man Mr. Holwell appealed, through the window, offering him large rewards if he would have us transferred to some more tolerable prison.
When the Jemautdar returned for the second time he made it appear that our case was hopeless. "No one dares help you," he said, speaking with evident compunction. "Surajah Dowlah is asleep, and it is as much as any man's life is worth to awake him." As soon as the meaning of these words was understood by the hundred and fifty miserable wretches inside, a pitiful, low wail went up.
The Jemautdar presently returned, shaking his head, and said to Mr. Holwell "I can do nothing. It is by the Nabob's orders that you are locked up, and I dare not interfere." "But we are dying, man!" cried Mr. Holwell. "The Nabob swore that he would spare our lives. Listen! I will give you two thousand rupees anything if you will procure us some relief!"
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