Note 11 — Chapter XI · SHOWING HOW THE FLOOD CAME.

I am writing these lines tormented by the most cruel anxiety. All is lost, Amelia, or very nearly so. The women and wounded are to be put on board the ships this evening, while the small remnant of our defenders endeavour to maintain themselves in the Fort, which alone is left to us, against a triumphant and exulting enemy. The Company’s ship Doddalay[11] and seven smaller vessels lie at a convenient distance from the Fort, and Mess. Manningham and Frankland are gone on board to provide for the reception of us unfortunates, while here every one is occupied in making sure that she shan’t be saved and her possessions left behind. Mrs Freyne is more sprightly than I have seen her for a fortnight. In an agreeable undress, she sits enthroned on piles of bedding, directing the trembling iyas as they cord the trunks, while my poor Charlotte lies almost speechless, exhausted by the heat and the violence of the fever that has held her all day. You’ll wonder that I can write at such a moment; and, indeed, I wonder at it myself. But, Amelia, my papa, my dear and honoured father, the kindest of men, is missing. I have been hurrying hither and thither, demanding of every European I met whether they could tell me anything of him, but all they can assure me of is that no one has seen him either slain or seriously wounded. Captain Colquhoun came upon me while I was seeking to obtain some news from a parcel of frightened To-passes, and fairly led me back by the hand to our lodging.