ry to keep
cheerful and quiet; and above all, dear, pray God to give you strength
to carry you through it, and to restore you safe to your mamma, in a
few days."

As time went on, the scene in the dungeon became terrible. Shouts,
oaths, cries of all kinds, rose in the air. Round the window men
fought like wild beasts, tearing each other down, or clinging to the
bars for dear life, for a breath of the air without. Panting,
struggling, crying, men sank exhausted upon the floor, and the last
remnants of life were trodden out of them, by those who surged forward
to get near the window.

In vain, Mr. Holwell implored them to keep quiet, for their own sakes.
His voice was lost in the terrible din. Men, a few hours ago rich and
respected merchants, now fought like maddened beasts for a breath of
fresh air. In vain, those at the window screamed to the guards
without, imploring them to bring water. Their prayers and entreaties
were replied to only with brutal scoffs.

Several times Charlie and Tim, standing together against the wall
behind, where there was now room to move, lifted Ada between them, and
sat her on their shoulders in order that, raised above the crowd, she
might breathe more freely. Each time, after sitting there for a while,
the poor girl begged to come down again; the sight of the terrible
struggle, ever going on at the window, being too much for her; and
when released, leaning against Charlie, supported by his arm, with her
head against his shoulder, and her hands over her ears to shut out the
dreadful sounds which filled the cell.

Hour passed after hour. There was more room now, for already half the
inmates of the place had succumbed. The noises, too, had lessened, for
no longer could the parched lips and throats utter articulate sounds.
Charlie and Tim, strong men as they were, leaned utterly exhausted
against the wall, bathed in perspiration, gasping for air.

"Half the night must be gone, Tim," Charlie said, "and I think, with
God's help, we shall live through it. The numbers are lessening fast,
and every one who goes leaves more air for the rest of us.

"Cheer up, Ada dear, 'twill not be very long till morning."

"I think I shall die soon," the girl gasped. "I shall never see papa
or mamma again. You have been very kind, Captain Marryat, but it is no
use."

"Oh, but it is of use," Charlie said cheerfully. "I don't mean to let
you die at all, but to hand you over to mamma, safe and sound. There,