On the succeeding morning a ghastly-looking figure, whose face spoke some abhorred errand, ordered the captives to attend the council of officers. Bellingham, surrounded with those, who secretly panted for his destruction, acted as their organ, and assuming the consequence of a general, informed his prisoners[2], "That after so long and obstinate a defence, till they found it necessary to deliver up themselves to mercy, it was necessary that the peace of the kingdom might be no more disturbed in that manner, that some military justice should be executed, and therefore the council had determined that three should be presently shot." The tallies were immediately produced, the victims blindfolded, and Eustace drew one of those marked with the fatal sentence of death. His partners in affliction had nothing remarkable in their appearance to engage peculiar sympathy; but the beautiful countenance of Eustace, faded indeed by severe suffering, yet lighted by the splendor of eyes radiant with intelligence, while all his features spoke sense and feeling, had already drawn the attention of the butchers who sat to see him exposed to the chance of slaughter. With collected intrepidity he stretched his hand, and steadily drew the lot from the fatal urn. When the contents were announced, he tore the bandage from his eyes, and, rolling them in stern defiance of the rebel group, embraced his fellow-victims. A silent appeal to Heaven succeeded; and then, without one supplicatory address for mercy, in a manly tone, he inquired what time would be allowed them to prepare for death. His manner had so far softened their hearts, that a respite of three hours was granted; and Lord Bellingham offered them the assistance of one of his own chaplains to direct their devotions.