Furious too was the Bishop of Rochester. Shortly after the event, Atterbury had to officiate at a confirmation at Gravesend. On the moment of his arrival in the church, he sent for the curate, and demanded how he had dared to grant the use of the church for the Dutch service, and why he had not first sent to HIM? ‘My lord,’ said the curate, ‘Christian charity compelled me; the churchwardens sanctioned it, and the time, too short to allow for deliberation, did not leave me the opportunity of applying to your lordship.’ [Sidenote: _AIDS TO ESCAPE._] Atterbury answered in a high tone and acted with a high hand. He announced that he himself would preach, and he prohibited the curate from even reading prayers. The prelate’s sermon so exalted his wrath, that, at the conclusion, he was not satisfied with this suspension of Mr. Gibbons from duty, but Atterbury turned the poor clergyman out of his cure! The bishop, however, was made to feel that he had gone too far. The record of suspension was erased; the dismissal of Mr. Gibbons from his cure was followed by his restoration, and it is agreeable to read that, on the great Thanksgiving Day, he preached in his old church ‘an Excellent, Loyal, and Honest Sermon.’ In London itself, loving hearts and planning heads, outside Newgate, were doing all that sympathy and cunning could effect, for the relief of those who were inside. Women lingered about the walls, and men lounged near, ready to obey any call for the deliverance of the remaining captives. As this seemed more and more hopeless, an attempt was made on the virtue of a sentinel. A lady offered him 30_l._ in hand, and a bill (a very questionable bill) for 500_l._ more, the former for present aid in setting the prisoners free; the latter to be cashed when they were beyond recapture. The sentinel’s integrity could not be overcome. He went and swore to the whole story, before the Lord Mayor. That official put the governor and subordinates on the watch. The guard was increased. An unceasing vigilance was enjoined; and the Jacobite prisoners were looked upon as men doomed to the scaffold, or to some fate as bad, if not worse. Mackintosh, nevertheless, appeared to be perfectly at his ease; and the equanimity of the old brigadier gave hope and courage to such other ‘rebels’ as needed them. [Sidenote: _SHIFTING OF PRISONERS._]