as the cause was desperate. But far
different were the feelings of the soldiers, who were compelled to leave
their beloved commanders in this state of peril. The regret of Jobson
was peculiarly lively, he wrung the hand of Eustace, implored him to
assist him in passing for a subaltern, that he might share his perils,
and insisted he was as good a gentleman as many of Bellingham's
officers. Eustace attempted to laugh at his apprehensions, assured him
that the rumour of the General's intention to decimate the prisoners was
suggested by some malicious person, who sported with the feelings of
unfortunate people. "The only difference in our fate," said he to
Jobson, "is that you are at large with your unhealed wounds to beg or
starve, whichever (being your own master) you shall think most eligible,
while I shall be well taken care of as a prisoner, probably sent to
London, and perhaps, by some fortunate occurrence, may be indulged with
a sight of my honoured father. With what transport shall I throw myself
into his arms, crave his blessing, tell him I have redeemed my shames,
and proved by my sufferings and my blood that I am no traitor."

Jobson took a lingering leave; the commands of Bellingham were
peremptory. Every soldier of the King's found in the castle, the evening
after its surrender, was ordered to be thrown over the rock into the
sea. Cowardice was his motive for this command. He dreaded the fury of
even a disarmed and unofficered army, and he resolved to disperse them,
previous to his bringing on the premeditated catastrophe of his bloody
tragedy.

On the succeeding morning a ghastly-looking figure, whose face spoke
some abhorred errand, ordered the captives to attend the council of
officers. Bellingham, surrounded with those, who secretly panted for his
destruction, acted as their organ, and assuming the consequence of a
general, informed his prisoners[2], "That after so long and obstinate a
defence, till they found it necessary to deliver up themselves to mercy,
it was necessary that the peace of the kingdom might be no more disturbed
in that manner, that some military justice should be executed, and
therefore the council had determined that three should be presently
shot." The tallies were immediately produced, the victims blindfolded,
and Eustace drew one of those marked with the fatal sentence of death.
His partners in affliction had nothing remarkable in their appearance to
engage peculiar sympathy; but t