All through the night occasional shrieks and pistol shots could be heard, as the wretched people who had hidden themselves in closets and cellars were discovered and murdered.  No further assault was made upon the church tower, nor was there any renewal of it next morning.  As hour after hour passed on Harry concluded that, deterred by the great loss which his men had already sustained in endeavoring to capture the post, Cromwell had determined to reduce it by starvation.

Already the defenders were, from the effects of exertion and excitement, half-mad with thirst.  As the day went on their sufferings became greater, but there was still no thought of surrender.  The next day two of them leaped from the top of the tower and were killed by their fall.  Then Harry saw that it was better to give in.

“My lads,” he said, “it is better to go down and die by a bullet-shot than to suffer these agonies of thirst, with only death as the issue.  We must die.  Better to die in our senses as men, than mad like wild beasts with thirst.  Mike, my lad, I am sorry to have brought you to this pass.”

Mike put his parched lips to his master’s hand.

“It is not your fault, master.  My life is no differ to any.”

The men agreed to Harry’s proposal.  There was a discussion whether they should go down and die fighting, or not; but Harry urged upon them that it was better not to do so.  They were already weak with hunger and thirst, and it would be more dignified to meet their fate quiet and unresistingly.  They accordingly laid by their arms, and, preceded by Harry, descended the stairs.

The noise of their footsteps warned the soldiers in the church below of their coming, and these formed in a semicircle round the door to receive the expected onslaught.  When they saw that the Royalists were unarmed they lowered their weapons, and an officer said:  “Take these men out into the street, and shoot them there, according to the general’s orders.”

Calmly and with dignity Harry marched at the head of his little party into the street.  They were ranged with their backs to the church, and a firing party took their places opposite to them.

The officer was about to give the order, when a divine in a high-steepled hat came up.  He looked at the prisoners, and then rapidly advanced between the lines and gazed earnestly at Harry.

“Is your name Master Purness?” he asked.

“I am Colonel Furness, an officer of his majesty Charles II.,” Harry said coldly.  “What then?”

“I am Ebenezer Stubbs,” the preacher said.  “Do you not remember how seven years ago you saved my life at the risk of your own in the streets of Oxford?  I promised you then that if the time should come I would do as good a turn to yourself.  Captain Allgood,” he said, “I do beseech you to stay this execution until I have seen the general.  I am, as you know, his private chaplain, and I am assured that he will not be wroth with you for consenting to my request.”