ows in the
eaves took wing, and rendered giddy by the smoke, fell fluttering down
upon the blazing pile; still the fire was tended unceasingly by busy
hands, and round it, men were going always. They never slackened in
their zeal, or kept aloof, but pressed upon the flames so hard, that
those in front had much ado to save themselves from being thrust in; if
one man swooned or dropped, a dozen struggled for his place, and that
although they knew the pain, and thirst, and pressure to be unendurable.
Those who fell down in fainting-fits, and were not crushed or burnt,
were carried to an inn-yard close at hand, and dashed with water from a
pump; of which buckets full were passed from man to man among the crowd;
but such was the strong desire of all to drink, and such the fighting to
be first, that, for the most part, the whole contents were spilled upon
the ground, without the lips of one man being moistened.

Meanwhile, and in the midst of all the roar and outcry, those who were
nearest to the pile, heaped up again the burning fragments that came
toppling down, and raked the fire about the door, which, although a
sheet of flame, was still a door fast locked and barred, and kept
them out. Great pieces of blazing wood were passed, besides, above the
people's heads to such as stood about the ladders, and some of these,
climbing up to the topmost stave, and holding on with one hand by the
prison wall, exerted all their skill and force to cast these fire-brands
on the roof, or down into the yards within. In many instances their
efforts were successful; which occasioned a new and appalling addition
to the horrors of the scene: for the prisoners within, seeing from
between their bars that the fire caught in many places and thrived
fiercely, and being all locked up in strong cells for the night, began
to know that they were in danger of being burnt alive. This terrible
fear, spreading from cell to cell and from yard to yard, vented itself
in such dismal cries and wailings, and in such dreadful shrieks for
help, that the whole jail resounded with the noise; which was loudly
heard even above the shouting of the mob and roaring of the flames, and
was so full of agony and despair, that it made the boldest tremble.

It was remarkable that these cries began in that quarter of the jail
which fronted Newgate Street, where, it was well known, the men who were
to suffer death on Thursday were confined. And not only were these four
who had