May, a dead calmness, significant of disaster, had fallen on the district around them. They felt it must have gone hard with their countrymen in Oudh, to the east and to the west, since they were left unaided to perish. The bolder spirits talked, at times, of a sortie in force, but in their cooler moments even they rejected a measure which would have entailed the destruction of the women and the children, and which did not offer one chance in a thousand of success.
I have spoken of the splendid repulse of the rebels on the 23d. This blow, severe as it was, seemed to the garrison almost the last they would be able to strike. Their guns were fast becoming unserviceable, ammunition was failing them, starvation was staring them in the face. They were in this position when, on the 24th, a slip of paper was brought them by Mrs Greenway, wife of one of the merchants of Kánhpur, who had been made prisoner, on which the following words, written by Azímullah, were traced: 'All those who are in no way connected with the acts of Lord Dalhousie, and are willing to lay down their arms, shall receive a safe passage to Allahábád.'
The idea of capitulation was revolting to every soldier of the garrison. Sir Hugh Wheeler, the first to speak, protested strongly against it, and he was supported by the younger combatants. The Náná, they felt, was not to be trusted. To him they owed their actual position. But Moore and Whiting, who had borne the brunt of the defence, thought otherwise. It would be impossible, they knew, to prolong the defence. Their ammunition and their food supplies were alike all but exhausted. The one chance of saving the women and children was to capitulate. For themselves they cared not. They would have preferred to die sword in hand, but in that case the women and children would perish too. If there were but one
