The cannonade had continued for more than three weeks, and of the 870 persons who survived, 330 were women and children. While they were still hesitating, a message was brought from Nana Sahib, offering the garrison a safe conduct to Allahabad, with permission to take their arms, baggage, and ammunition with them, on condition that they surrendered at once. Sir H. Wheeler, anxious if possible to save the women and children from that death which was already staring them in the face, reluctantly agreed to accept this offer: he seems to have done so contrary to his better reason, and almost with a presentiment of the calamity that was about to overtake them. But it seemed their only chance of safety, and a fearful responsibility would devolve upon him if he neglected or rejected it. The Nana took an oath on the waters of the Ganges, which to a Hindoo and a Brahmin is the most sacred and binding of all oaths, that he would carry out the terms of capitulation to the very letter; and it was scarcely conceivable that he could prove faithless to his engagement, and perjure himself. They knew nothing of his deep-rooted hatred of the English race, his long-cherished scheme of revenge, his burning thirst for human blood; they remembered only his pleasant parties at Bithoor, and imagined that from such a man they had nothing to dread. At first all seemed to be well: when they left the entrenchment, they found boats prepared to convey them to Allahabad, and the women and children were greeted with expressions of sympathy and solicitude, which were as sincere as the caresses the tiger bestows on its victims. No sooner were the whole party seated in the boats than three signal guns were fired, and a destructive fire was opened on the helpless fugitives from guns concealed along the bank, and the pieces with which the rebels were armed. The shrieks of despairing mothers, clasping their infant offspring to their breasts, and striving to shield them from the murderous fire, were heard amid the booming of the guns, the rattle of musketry, and the maddening yells of the inhuman fiends to whom the work of destruction was entrusted. It was a pre-concerted massacre: bands of native infantry and cavalry had been stationed on either bank of the river to cut off the retreat of those who tried to escape from the boats by swimming; only one or two contrived to elude their vigilance, and to reach a place of safety. Two hundred women and children were taken back to the town: with solemn hands and beating heart we draw the veil of silence over their fate. The well at Cawnpore can never be forgotten, and the feeling of confidence which we once reposed in the natives of India may not be restored for centuries.