IN CLIVE'S COMMAND

A Story of the Fight for India

by

HERBERT STRANG

Contents

 PrefaceChapter 1: In which the Court Leet of Market Drayton entertains Colonel Robert Clive; and our hero makes an acquaintance. Chapter 2: In which our hero overhears a conversation; and, meeting with the unexpected, is none the less surprised and offended. Chapter 3: In which Mr. Marmaduke Diggle talks of the Golden East; and our hero interrupts an interview, and dreams dreams. Chapter 4: In which blows are exchanged; and our hero, setting forth upon his travels, scents an adventure. Chapter 5: In which Job Grinsell explains; and three visitors come by night to the Four Alls. Chapter 6: In which the reader becomes acquainted with William Bulger and other sailor men; and our hero as a squire of dames acquits himself with credit. Chapter 7: In which Colonel Clive suffers an unrecorded defeat; and our hero finds food for reflection. Chapter 8: In which several weeks are supposed to elapse; and our hero is discovered in the Doldrums. Chapter 9: In which the Good Intent makes a running fight: Mr. Toley makes a suggestion. Chapter 10: In which our hero arrives in the Golden East, and Mr. Diggle presents him to a native prince. Chapter 11: In which the Babu tells the story of King Vikramaditya; and the discerning reader may find more than appears on the surface. Chapter 12: In which our hero is offered freedom at the price of honor; and Mr. Diggle finds that others can quote Latin on occasion. Chapter 13: In which Mr. Diggle illustrates his argument; and there are strange doings in Gheria harbor. Chapter 14: In which seven bold men light a big bonfire; and the Pirate finds our hero a bad bargain. Chapter 15: In which our hero weathers a storm; and prepares for squalls. Chapter 16: In which a mutiny is quelled in a minute; and our Babu proves himself a man of war. Chapter 17: In which our hero finds himself among friends; and Colonel Clive prepares to astonish Angria. Chapter 18: In which Angria is astonished; and our hero begins to pay off old scores. Chapter 19: In which the scene changes; the dramatis personae remaining the same. Chapter 20: In which there are recognitions and explanations; and our hero meets one Coja Solomon, of Cossimbazar. Chapter 21: In which Coja Solomon finds dishonesty the worse policy; and a journey down the Hugli little to his liking. Chapter 22: In which is given a full, true, and particular account of the Battle of the Carts. Chapter 23: In which there are many moving events; and our hero finds himself a cadet of John Company. Chapter 24: In which the danger of judging by appearance is notably exemplified. Chapter 25: In which our hero embarks on a hazardous mission; and Monsieur Sinfray's khansaman makes a confession. Chapter 26: In which presence of mind is shown to be next best to absence of body. Chapter 27: In which an officer of the Nawab disappears; and Bulger reappears. Chapter 28: In which Captain Barker has cause to rue the day when he met Mr. Diggle; and our hero continues to wipe off old scores. Chapter 29: In which our hero does not win the Battle of Plassey: but, where all do well, gains as much glory as the rest. Chapter 30: In which Coja Solomon reappears: and gives our hero valuable information. Chapter 31: In which friends meet, and part: and our hero hints a proposal. Chapter 32: In which the curtain falls to the sound of wedding bells: and our hero comes to his own. 

Preface

I have not attempted in this story to give a full account of the careerof Lord Clive. That has been done by my old friend, Mr. Henty, in "WithClive in India. " It has always seemed to me that a single book providestoo narrow a canvas for the display of a life so full and varied asClive's, and that a work of fiction is bound to suffer, structurally andin detail, from the compression of the events of a lifetime within sorestricted a space. I have therefore chosen two outstanding events in thehistory of India--the capture of Gheria and the battle of Plassey--andhave made them the pivot of a personal story of adventure. The wholeaction of the present work is comprised in the years from 1754 to 1757. 

But while this book is thus rather a romance with a background of historythan an historical biography with an admixture of fiction, the reader maybe assured that the information its pages contain is accurate. I havedrawn freely upon the standard authorities: Orme, Ives, Grose, the livesof Clive by Malcolm and Colonel Malleson, and many other works; inparticular the monumental volumes by Mr. S. C. Hill recently published, "Bengal in 1756-7, " which give a very full, careful and clear account ofthat notable year, with a mass of most useful and interesting documents. The maps of Bengal, Fort William and Plassey are taken from Mr. Hill'swork by kind permission of the Secretary of State for India. I have tothank also Mr. T. P. Marshall, of Newport, for some valuable notes on thehistory and topography of Market Drayton. 

For several years I myself lived within a stone's throw of the scene ofthe tragedy of the Black Hole; and though at that time I had no intentionof writing a story for boys, I hope that the impressions of Indian life, character and scenery then gained have helped to create an atmosphere andto give reality to my picture. History is more than a mere record ofevents; and I shall be satisfied if the reader gets from these pages anidea, however imperfect, of the conditions of life under which all empirebuilders labored in India a hundred and fifty years ago. 

Herbert Strang

Chapter 1: In which the Court Leet of Market Drayton entertains ColonelRobert Clive; and our hero makes an acquaintance. 

One fine autumn evening, in the year 1754, a country cart joggedeastwards into Market Drayton at the heels of a thick-set, shaggy-fetlocked and broken-winded cob. The low tilt, worn and illfitting, swayed widely with the motion, scarcely avoiding the hats of thetwo men who sat side by side on the front seat, and who, to a personwatching their approach, would have appeared as dark figures in atottering archway, against a background of crimson sky. 

As the vehicle jolted through Shropshire Street, the creakings of itsunsteady wheels mingled with a deep humming, as of innumerable bees, proceeding from the heart of the town. Turning the corner by thebutchers' bulks into the High Street, the cart came to an abrupt stop. Infront, from the corn market, a large wooden structure in the center ofthe street, to the Talbot Inn, stretched a dense mass of people; partlytownfolk, as might be discerned by their dress, partly country folk who, having come in from outlying villages to market, had presumably been keptin the town by their curiosity or the fair weather. 

"We'n better goo round about, Measter, " said the driver, to the passengerat his side. "Summat's afoot down yander. "

"You're a wise man, to be sure. Something's afoot, as you truly say. And, being troubled from my youth up with an inquiring nose, I'll e'en stepforward and smell out the occasion. Do you bide here, my Jehu, till Icome back. "

"Why, I will, then, Measter, but my name binna Jehu. 'Tis plain Tummus. "

"You don't say so! Now I come to think of it, it suits you better thanJehu, for the Son of Nimshi drove furiously. Well, Tummus, I will notkeep you long; this troublesome nose of mine, I dare say, will soon besatisfied. "

By this time he had slipped down from his seat, and was walking towardthe throng. Now that he was upon his feet, he showed himself to be morethan common tall, spare and loose jointed. His face was lean and swarthy, his eyes black and restless; his well-cut lips even now wore the samesmile as when he mischievously misnamed his driver. Though he wore theusual dress of the Englishman of his day--frock, knee breeches and buckleshoes, none of them in their first youth--there was a somethingoutlandish about him, in the bright yellow of his neckcloth and the redfeather stuck at a jaunty angle into the ribbon of his hat; and Tummus, as he looked curiously after his strange passenger, shook his head andbit the straw in his mouth, and muttered:

"Ay, it binna on'y the nose, 't binna on'y the nose, with his Jehus an'such. "

Meanwhile the man strode rapidly along, reached the fringe of the crowd, and appeared to make his way through its mass without difficulty, perhapsby reason of his commanding height, possibly by the aforesaid quaintnessof his aspect, and the smile which forbade any one to regard him as anaggressor. He went steadily on until he came opposite to the Talbot Inn. At that moment a stillness fell upon the crowd; every voice was hushed;every head was craned towards the open windows of the inn's assemblyroom. 

Gazing with the rest, the stranger saw a long table glittering under thesoft radiance of many candles and surrounded by a numerous company--fatand thin, old and young, red-faced and pale, gentle and simple. At theend farthest from the street one figure stood erect--a short, round, rubicund little man, wearing a gown of rusty black, one thumb stuck intohis vest, and a rosy benignity in the glance with which he scanned thetable. He threw back his head, cleared his tight throat sonorously, andbegan, in tones perhaps best described as treacly, to address the seatedcompany, with an intention also towards the larger audience without. 

"Now, neebors all, we be trim and cozy in our insides, and 'tis time furme to say summat. I be proud, that I be, as it falls to me, bein' bailiffo' this town, to axe ya all to drink the good health of our honoredtownsman an guest. I ha' lived hereabout, boy an' man, fur a matter o'fifty year, an' if so be I lived fifty more I couldna be a prouder manthan I bin this night. Boy an' man, says I? Ay, I knowed our guest whenhe were no more'n table high. Well I mind him, that I do, comin' by thisvery street to school; ay, an' he minds me too, I warrant. 

"I see him now, I do, skippin' along street fresh an' nimblelike, hiseyne chock full o' mischief lookin' round fur to see some poor soul toplay a prank on. It do feel strange-like to have him a-sittin' by myelbow today. Many's the tale I could tell o' his doin' an' our sufferin'. Why, I mind a poor lump of a 'prentice as I wunst had, a loon as nevercould raise a keek: poor soul, he bin underground this many year. Well, as I were sayin', this 'prentice o' mine were allers bein' baited by theboys o' the grammar school. I done my best for him, spoke them boys fairan' soft, but, bless ya, 'twas no good; they baited him worse'n ever. Soone day I used my stick to um. Next mornin' I was down in my bake hus, makin' my batch ready fur oven, when, oothout a word o' warnin', up comesmy two feet behind, down I goes head fust into my flour barrel, and themyoung--hem! the clergy be present--them youngsters dancin' round me likeforty mad merry andrews at a fair. "

A roar of laughter greeted the anecdote. 

"Ay, neebors, " resumed the bailiff, "we can laugh now, you an' me, buttheer's many on ya could tell o' your own mishappenin's if ya had a mindto 't. As fur me, I bided my time. One day I cotched the leader o' themboys nigh corn market, an' I laid him across the badgerin' stone andwalloped him nineteen--twenty--hee! hee! D'ya mind that, General?"

He turned to the guest at his right hand, who sat with but the glimmer ofa smile, crumbling one of Bailiff Malkin's rolls on the tablecloth. 

"But theer, " continued the speaker, "that be nigh twenty year ago, an'the shape o' my strap binna theer now, I warrant. Three skins ha' growedsince then--hee! hee! Who'd ha' thought, neebors, as that young limb asplagued our very lives out 'ud ha' bin here today, a general, an' a greatman, an' a credit to his town an' country? Us all thought as he'd bringhis poor feyther's gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. An' when I heerd ashe'd bin shipped off to the Injies--well, thinks I, that bin the lastwe'll hear o' Bob Clive. 

"But, bless ya! all eggs binna addled. General Clive here--'twere theInjun sun what hatched he, an' binna he, I axe ya, a rare young fightin'cock? Ay, and a good breed, too. A hunnerd year ago theer was a Bob Cliveas med all our grandfeythers quake in mortal fear, a terrible man o' warwas he. They wanted to put 'n into po'try an' the church sarvice. 

"'From Wem and from WycheAn' from Clive o' the Styche, Good Lord, deliver us. '

"That's what they thought o' the Bob Clive o' long ago. Well, this BobClive now a-sittin' at my elbow be just as desp'rate a fighter, an'thankful let us all be, neebors, as he does his fightin' wi' theblack-faced Injuns an' the black-hearted French, an' not the peacefulbide-at-homes o' Market Drayton. "

The little bailiff paused to moisten his lips. From his audience arosefeeling murmurs of approval. 

"Ya known what General Clive ha' done, " he resumed. "'Twas all read outo' prent by the crier in corn market. An' the grand folks in Lun'on ha'give him a gowd sword, an' he bin hob-a-nob wi' King Jarge hisself. An'us folks o' Market Drayton take it proud, we do, as he be come to see usafore he goes back to his duty. 

"Theer's a example fur you boys. Theer be limbs o' mischief in MarketDrayton yet. 

"Ay, I see tha' 'Lijah Notcutt, a-hangin' on to winder theer. I know whowringed the neck o' Widder Peplow's turkey. 

"An' I see tha' too, 'Zekiel Podmore; I know who broke the handle o' townpump. If I cotch ya at your tricks I'll leather ya fust an' clap ya inthe stocks afterwards, sure as my name be Randle Malkin. 

"But as I wan sayin', if ya foller th' example o' General Clive, an' turnyer young sperits into the lawful way--why, mebbe there be gowd swordsan' mints o' money somewheers fur ya too. 

"Well now, I bin talkin' long enough, an' to tell ya the truth, I be dryas a whistle, so I'll axe ya all to lift yer glasses, neebors, an' drinkthe good health o' General Clive. So theer!"

As the worthy bailiff concluded his speech, the company primed theirglasses, rose and drank the toast with enthusiasm. Lusty cheers brokefrom the drier throats outside; caps were waved, rattles whirled, kettlesbeaten with a vigor that could not have been exceeded if the generalloyalty had been stirred by the presence of King George himself. 

Only one man in the crowd held his peace. The stranger remained oppositethe window, silent, motionless, looking now into the room, now round uponthe throng, with the same smile of whimsical amusement. Only once did hismanner change; the smile faded, his lips met in a straight line, and hemade a slight rearward movement, seeming at the same moment to losesomething of his height. 

It was when the guest of the evening stood up to reply: a young man, looking somewhat older than his twenty-nine years, his powdered haircrowning a strong face; with keen, deep-set eyes, full lips and masterfulchin. He wore a belaced purple coat; a crimson sash crossed hisembroidered vest; a diamond flashed upon his finger. Letting his eyesrange slowly over the flushed faces of the diners, he waited until thebailiff had waved down the untiring applauders without; then, in a clearvoice, began:

"Bailiff Malkin, my old friends--"

But his speech was broken in upon by a sudden commotion in the street. Loud cries of a different tenor arose at various points; the boys who hadbeen hanging upon the window ledge dropped to the ground; the crowdsurged this way and that, and above the mingled clamor sounded a wild andfearful squeal that drew many of the company to their feet and several inalarm to the window. 

Among these the bailiff, now red with anger, shook his fist at the peopleand demanded the meaning of the disturbance. A small boy, his eyes roundwith excitement, piped up:

"An't please yer worship, 'tis a wild Injun come from nowheer an' doin'all manner o' wickedness. "

"A wild Injun! Cotch him! Ring the 'larum bell! Put him in the stocks!"

But the bailiff's commands passed unheeded. The people were thronging upthe street, elbowing each other, treading on each other's toes, yelling, booing, forgetful of all save the strange coincidence that, on thisevening of all others, the banquet in honor of Clive, the Indian hero, had been interrupted by the sudden appearance of a live Indian in theirvery midst. 

A curious change had come over the demeanor of the stranger, who hithertohad been so silent, so detached in manner, so unmoved. He was now to beseen energetically forcing his way toward the outskirts of the crowd, heaving, hurling, his long arms sweeping obstacles aside. His eyesflashed fire upon the yokels skurrying before him, a vitriolic stream ofabuse scorched their faces as he bore them down. 

At length he stopped suddenly, caught a hulking farmer by the shoulder, and, with a violent twist and jerk, flung him headlong among his fellows. Released from the man's grasp, a small negro boy, his eyes starting, hisbreast heaving with terror, sprang to the side of his deliverer, whosoothingly patted his woolly head, and turned at bay upon the crowd, nowagain pressing near. 

"Back, you boobies!" he shouted. "'Tis my boy! If a man of you followsme, I'll break his head for him. "

He turned and, clasping the black boy's hand close in his, strode awaytowards the waiting cart. The crowd stood in hesitation, daunted by thetall stranger's fierce mien. But one came out from among them, a slim boyof some fifteen years, who had followed at the heels of the stranger andhad indeed assisted his progress. The rest, disappointed of their Indianhunt, were now moving back towards the inn; but the boy hastened on. Hearing his quick footsteps, the man swung around with a snarl. 

"I hope the boy isn't hurt, " said the lad quietly. "Can I do anything foryou?"

The stranger looked keenly at him; then, recognizing by his mien andvoice that this at least was no booby, he smiled; the truculence of hismanner vanished, and he said:

"Your question is pat, my excellent friend, and I thank you for yourgoodwill. As you perceive, my withers are not wrung. "

He waved his right hand airily, and the boy noticed that it was coveredfrom wrist to knuckles with what appeared to be a fingerless glove ofblack velvet. 

"The boy has taken no harm. Hic niger est, as Horace somewhere hath it;and black spells Indian to your too hasty friends yonder. Scipio is hispraenomen, bestowed on him by me to match the cognomen his already bynature--Africanus, to wit. You take me, kind sir? But I detain you; yourears doubtless itch for the eloquence of our condescending friend yonder;without more ado then, good night!"

And turning on his heel, waving his gloved hand in salutation, thestranger went his way. The lad watched him wonderingly. For all hisshabbiness he appeared a gentleman. His speech was clean cut, his accentpure; yet in his tone, as in his dress, there was something unusual, atouch of the theatrical, strange to that old sleepy town. 

He hoisted the negro into the cart, then mounted to his place beside thedriver, and the vehicle rumbled away. 

Retracing his steps, the boy once more joined the crowd, and wormed hisway through its now silent ranks until he came within sight of theassembly room. But if he had wished to hear Clive's speech of thanks, hewas too late. As he arrived, applause greeted the hero's final words, andhe resumed his seat. To the speeches that followed, no heed was paid bythe populace; words from the vicar and the local attorney had no noveltyfor them. But they waited, gossiping among themselves, until thefestivity was over and the party broke up. 

More shouts arose as the great man appeared at the inn door. Horses werethere in waiting; a hundred hands were ready to hold the stirrup forClive; but he mounted unassisted and rode off in company with Sir PhilipChetwode, a neighboring squire whose guest he was. When the principalfigure had gone, the throng rapidly melted away, and soon the street hadresumed its normal quiet. 

The boy was among the last to quit the scene. Walking slowly down theroad, he overtook a bent old man in the smock of a farm laborer, trudgingalong alone. 

"Hey, Measter Desmond, " said the old man, "I feels for tha, that I do. Iseed yer brother theer, eatin' an' drinkin' along wi' the noble general, an' thinks I, 'tis hard on them as ha' to look on, wi' mouths a-waterin'fur the vittles an' drink. But theer, I'd be afeard to set lips to someo' them kickshawses as goes down into the nattlens o' high folk, an', allsaid an' done, a man canna be more'n full, even so it bin wi' nowt butturmuts an' Cheshire cheese. 

"Well, sir, 'tis fine to be an elder son, that's true, an' dunna ye takeon about it. You bin on'y a lad, after all, pardon my bold way o'speakin', an' mebbe when you come to man's estate, why, theer'll be aknife an' fork fur you too, though I doubt we'll never see General Clivein these parts no moore. Here be my turnin'; good night to ya, sir. "

"Good night, Dickon. "

And Desmond Burke passed on alone, out of the silent town, into the nowdarkening road that led to his home towards Cheswardine. 

Chapter 2: In which our hero overhears a conversation; and, meetingwith the unexpected, is none the less surprised and offended. 

Desmond's pace became slower when, having crossed the valley, he beganthe long ascent that led past the site of Tyrley Castle. But when heagain reached a stretch of level road he stepped out more briskly, forthe darkness of the autumn night was moment by moment contracting thehorizon, and he had still several miles to go on the unlighted road. Evenas the thought of his dark walk crossed his mind he caught sight of theone light that served as a never-failing beacon to night travelers alongthat highway. It came from the windows of a wayside inn, a common placeof call for farmers wending to or from Drayton Market, and one whosecurious sign Desmond had many times studied with a small boy's interest. 

The inn was named the "Four Alls": its sign, a crude painting of a tableand four seated figures, a king, a parson, a soldier, and a farmer. Beneath the group, in a rough scrawl, were the words--

Rule all: Pray all:Fight all: Pay all. 

As Desmond drew nearer to the inn, there came to him along the silentroad the sound of singing. This was somewhat unusual at such an hour, forfolk went early to bed, and the inn was too far from the town to haveattracted waifs and strays from the crowd. What was still more unusual, the tones were not the rough, forced, vagrant tones of tipsy farmers;they were of a single voice, light, musical, and true. Desmond'scuriosity was flicked, and he hastened his step, guessing from theclearness of the sound that the windows were open and the singer in fullview. 

The singing ceased abruptly just as he reached the inn. But the windowsstood indeed wide open, and from the safe darkness of the road he couldsee clearly, by the light of four candles on the high mantel shelf, thewhole interior of the inn parlor. It held four persons. One lay back in achair near the fire, his legs outstretched, his chin on his breast, hisopen lips shaking as he snored. It was Tummus Biles, the tranter, who haddriven a tall stranger from Chester to the present spot, and whoseindignation at being miscalled Jehu had only been appeased by a quart ofstrong ale. On the other side of the fireplace, curled up on a settle, and also asleep, lay the black boy, Scipio Africanus. Desmond noted thesetwo figures in passing; his gaze fastened upon the remaining two, who satat a corner of the table, a tankard in front of each. 

One of the two was Job Grinsell, landlord of the inn, a man with a rednose, loose mouth, and shifty eyes--not a pleasant fellow to look at, andregarded vaguely as a bad character. He had once been head gamekeeper toSir Willoughby Stokes, the squire, whose service he had left suddenly andin manifest disgrace. His companion was the stranger, the negro boy'smaster, the man whose odd appearance and manner of talk had already setDesmond's curiosity a-buzzing. It was clear that he must be the singer, for Job Grinsell had a voice like a saw, and Tummus Biles knew no musicsave the squeak of his cartwheels. It surprised Desmond to find thestranger already on the most friendly, to all appearance, indeed, confidential terms with the landlord. 

"Hale, did you say?" he heard Grinsell ask. "Ay, hale as you an' me, an'like to last another twenty year, rot him. "

"But the gout takes him, you said--nodosa podagra, as my friend Ovidwould say?"

"Ay, but I've knowed a man live forty year win the gout. And he dunnabelieve in doctor's dosin'; he goes to Buxton to drink the weeters whenhe bin madded wi' the pain, an' comes back sound fur six month. "

"Restored to his dear neighbors and friends--caris propinquis--"

"Hang me, but I wish you'd speak plain English an' not pepper your talkwin outlandish jabber. "

"Patience, Job; why, man, you belie your name. Come, you must humor anold friend; that's what comes of education, you see; my head is stuffedwith odds and ends that annoy my friends, while you can't read, norwrite, nor cipher beyond keeping your score. Lucky Job!"

Desmond turned away. The two men's conversation was none of his business;and he suspected from the stranger's manner that he had been drinkingfreely. He had stepped barely a dozen paces when he heard the voice againbreak into song. He halted and wheeled about; the tune was catching, andnow he distinguished some of the words--

Says Billy Norris, Masulipatam, To Governor Pitt: "D'ye know who I am, D'ye know who I am, I AM, I AM?Sir William Norris, Masulipatam. "Says Governor Pitt, Fort George, Madras:"I know what you are--"

Again the song broke off; the singer addressed a question to Grinsell. Desmond waited a moment; he felt an odd eagerness to know what GovernorPitt was; but hearing now only the drone of talking, he once more turnedhis face homeward. His curiosity was livelier than ever as to theidentity of this newcomer, who addressed the landlord as he might his ownfamiliar friend. 

And what had the stranger to do with Sir Willoughby Stokes? For it wasSir Willoughby that suffered from the gout; he it was that went everyautumn and spring to Buxton; he was away at this present time, but wouldshortly return to receive his Michaelmas rents. The stranger had not theair of a husbandman; but there was a vacant farm on the estate; perhapshe had come to offer himself as a tenant. 

And why did he wear that half glove upon his right hand? Finger stalls, wrist straps, even mittens were common enough, useful, and necessary attimes; but the stranger's glove was not a mitten, and it had no fellowfor the left hand. Perhaps, thought Desmond, it was a freak of thewearer's, on a par with his red feather and his vivid neckcloth. Desmond, as he walked on, found himself hoping that the visitor at the Four Allswould remain for a day or two. 

After passing through the sleeping hamlet of Woods Eaves, he struck intoa road on his left hand. Twenty minutes' steady plodding uphill broughthim in sight of his home--a large, ancient, rambling grange house lyingback from the road. It was now nearly ten o'clock, an hour when thehousehold was usually abed; but the door of Wilcote Grange stood open, and a guarded candle in the hall threw a faint yellow light upon thepath. The gravel crunched under Desmond's boots, and, as if summoned bythe sound, a tall figure crossed the hall and stood in the entrance. Atthe sight Desmond's mouth set hard; his hands clenched; his breath camemore quickly as he went forward. 

"Where have you been, sirrah?" were the angry words that greeted him. 

"Into the town, sir, " returned Desmond. 

He had perforce to halt, the doorway being barred by the man's broadform. 

"Into the town? You defy me, do you? Did I not bid you remain at home andmake up the stock book?"

"I did that before I left. "

"You did, did you? I lay my life 'tis ill done. What did you in the townthis time o' night?"

"I went to see General Clive. "

"Indeed! You! Hang me, what's Clive to you? Was you invited to theregale? You was one of that stinking crowd, I suppose, that bawled in thestreet. You go and herd with knaves and yokels, do you? and bring shameupon me, and set the countryside a-chattering of Richard Burke and hisidle young oaf of a brother! By gad, sir, I'll whip you for this; I'llgive you something to remember General Clive by!"

He caught up a riding whip that stood in the angle of the doorway, andtook Desmond by the shoulder. The boy did not flinch. 

"Whip me if you must, " he said quietly, "but don't you think we'd bettergo outside?"

The elder, with an imprecation, thrust Desmond into the open, hauled himsome distance down the path, and then beat him heavily about theshoulders. He stood a foot higher, his arm was strong, his grip firm as avise; resistance would have been vain; but Desmond knew better than toresist. He bent to the cruel blows without a wince or a murmur. Only, hisface was very pale when, the bully's arm being tired and his breathspent, he was flung away and permitted to stagger to the house. Hecrawled painfully up the wainscoted staircase and into the dark corridorleading to his bedroom. Halfway down this he paused, felt with his handalong the wall, and, discovering by this means that a door was ajar, stood listening. 

"Is that you, Desmond?" said a low voice within. 

"Yes, mother, " he replied, commanding his voice, and quietly entering. "Ihoped you were asleep. "

"I could not sleep until you came in, dear. I heard Dick's voice. What isthe matter? Your hand is trembling, Desmond. "

"Nothing, mother, as usual. "

A mother's ears are quick; and Mrs. Burke detected the quiver thatDesmond tried to still. She tightened her clasp on his hot hand. 

"Did he strike you, dear?"

"It was nothing, mother. I am used to that. "

"My poor boy! But what angered him? Why do you offend your brother?"

"Offend him!" exclaimed the boy passionately, but still in a low tone. "Everything I do offends him. I went to see General Clive; I wished to;that is enough for Dick. Mother, I am sick of it all. "

"Never mind, dear. A little patience. Dick doesn't understand you. Youshould humor him, Desmond. "

"Haven't I tried, mother? Haven't I? But what is the use? He treats meworse than any carter on the farm. I drudge for him, and he bullies me, miscalls me before the men, thrashes me--oh, mother! I can't endure itany longer. Let me go away, anywhere; anything would be better thanthis!"

Desmond was quivering with pain and indignation; only with difficulty didhe keep back the tears. 

"Hush, Desmond!" said his mother. "Dick will hear you. You are tired out, dear boy; go to bed; things will look brighter in the morning. Only havepatience. Good night, my son. "

Desmond kissed his mother and went to his room. But it was long before heslept. His bruised body found no comfort; his head throbbed; his soul wasfilled with resentment and the passionate longing for release. 

His life had not been very happy. He barely remembered his father--a big, keen-eyed, loud-voiced old man--who died when his younger son was fouryears old. Richard Burke had run away from his Irish home to sea. Heserved on Admiral Rooke's flagship at the battle of La Hogue, and, risingin the navy to the rank of warrant officer, bought a ship with thesavings of twenty years and fitted it out for unauthorized trade with theEast Indies. His daring, skill, and success attracted the attention ofthe officers of the Company. He was invited to enter the Company'sservice. As captain of an Indiaman he sailed backwards and forwards forten years; then at the age of fifty retired with a considerable fortuneand married the daughter of a Shropshire farmer. The death of his wife'srelatives led him to settle on the farm their family had tenanted forgenerations, and it was at Wilcote Grange that his three children wereborn. 

Fifteen years separated the elder son from the younger; between them camea daughter, who married early and left the neighborhood. Four years afterDesmond's birth the old man died, leaving the boy to the guardianship ofhis brother. 

There lay the seed of trouble. No brothers could have been more unlikethan the two sons of Captain Burke. Richard was made on a large andpowerful scale; he was hard working, methodical, grasping, whollyunimaginative, and in temper violent and domineering. Slighter and lessrobust, though not less healthy, Desmond was a boy of vivid imagination, high strung, high spirited, his feelings easily moved, his pride easilywounded. His brother was too dull and stolid to understand him, takingfor deliberate malice what was but boyish mischief, and regarding him assullen when he was only dreamily thoughtful. 

As a young boy Desmond kept as much as possible out of his brother's way. But as he grew older he came more directly under Richard's control, withthe result that they were now in a constant state of feud. Their mother, a woman of sweet temper but weak will, favored her younger son in secret;she learned by experience that open intervention on his behalf did moreharm than good. 

Desmond had two habits which especially moved his brother to anger. Hewas fond of roaming the country alone for hours together; he was fond ofreading. To Richard each was a waste of time. He never opened a book, save a manual of husbandry or a ready reckoner; he could conceive of noreason for walking, unless it were the business of the farm. Nothingirritated him more than to see Desmond stretched at length with his nosein Mr. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, or a volume of Hakluyt's Voyages, orperhaps Mr. Oldys's Life of Sir Walter Raleigh. And as he himself neverdreamed by day or by night, there was no chance of his divining the factthat Desmond, on those long solitary walks of his, was engaged chiefly indreaming, not idly, for in his dreams he was always the center ofactivity, greedy for doing. 

These daydreams constituted almost the sole joy of Desmond's life. Whenhe was only a little fellow he would sprawl on the bank near TyrleyCastle and weave romances about the Norman barons whose home it hadbeen--romances in which he bore a strenuous part. He knew everyinteresting spot in the neighborhood: Salisbury Hill, where the Yorkistleader pitched his camp before the battle of Blore Heath; Audley Brow, where Audley the Lancastrian lay watching his foe; above all Styche Hall, whence a former Clive had ridden forth to battle against the king, andwhere his namesake, the present Robert Clive, had been born. He imaginedhimself each of those bold warriors in turn, and saw himself, now aknight in mail, now a gay cavalier of Rupert's, now a bewigged Georgiangentleman in frock and pantaloons, but always with sword in hand. 

No name sang a merrier tune in Desmond's imagination than the name ofRobert Clive. Three years before, when he was imbibing Latin, Greek, andHebrew under Mr. Burslem at the grammar school on the hill, the amazingnews came one day that Bob Clive, the wild boy who had terrorized thetradespeople, plagued his master, led the school in tremendous fightswith the town boys, and suffered more birchings than any scholar of histime--Bob Clive, the scapegrace who had been packed off to India as alast resource, had turned out, as his father said, "not such a boobyafter all"--had indeed proved himself to be a military genius. HowDesmond thrilled when the old schoolmaster read out the glorious news ofClive's defense of Arcot with a handful of men against an overwhelminghost! How he glowed when the schoolroom rang with the cheers of the boys, and when, a half holiday being granted, he rushed forth with the rest todo battle in the church yard with the town boys, and helped to lick themthoroughly in honor of Clive!

From that moment there was for Desmond but one man in the world, and thatman was Robert Clive. In the twinkling of an eye he became the devoutestof hero worshipers. He coaxed Mr. Burslem to let him occupy Clive's olddesk, and with his fists maintained the privilege against all comers. Theinitials R. C. Roughly cut in the oak never lost their fascination forhim. He walked out day after day to Styche Hall, two miles away, andpleased himself with the thought that his feet trod the very spots oncetrodden by Bob Clive. Not an inch of the route from Hall to school--themeadow path into Longslow, the lane from Longslow to Shropshire Street, Little Street, Church Street, the church yard--was unknown to him: BobClive had known them all. He feasted on the oft-told stories of Clive'sboyish escapades: how he had bundled a watchman into the bulks and madehim prisoner there by closing down and fastening the shutters; how he hadthrown himself across the current of a torrential gutter to divert thestream into the cellar shop of a tradesman who had offended him; aboveall, that feat of his when, ascending the spiral turret stair of thechurch, he had lowered himself down from the parapet, and, astride upon agargoyle, had worked his way along it until he could secure a stone thatlay in its mouth, the perilous and dizzy adventure watched by abreathless throng in the churchyard below. The Bob Clive who had donethese things was now doing greater deeds in India; and Desmond Burke satday after day at his desk, gazing at the entrancing R. C. , and doing overagain in his own person the exploits of which all Market Drayton wasproud, and he the proudest. 

But at the age of fourteen his brother took him from school, though Mr. Burslem had pleaded that he might remain longer and afterwards proceed tothe university. He was set to do odd jobs about the farm. To farmingitself he had no objection; he was fond of animals and would willinglyhave spent his life with them. But he did object to drudging for a hardand inconsiderate taskmaster such as his brother was, and the work he wascompelled to do became loathsome to him, and bred a spirit of discontentand rebellion. The further news of Clive's exploits in India, coming atlong intervals, set wild notions beating in Desmond's head, and made himlong passionately for a change. At times he thought of running away: hisfather had run away and carved out a successful career, why should not hedo the same? But he had never quite made up his mind to cut the knot. 

Meanwhile it became known in Market Drayton that Clive had returned toEngland. Rumor credited him with fabulous wealth. It was said that hedrove through London in a gold coach, and outshone the king himself inthe splendor of his attire. No report was too highly colored to find easycredence among the simple country folk. Clive was indeed rich: he had ataste for ornate dress, and though neither so wealthy nor so gailyappareled as rumor said, he was for a season the lion of London society. The directors of the East India Company toasted him as "General" Clive, and presented him with a jeweled sword as a token of their sense of hisservices on the Coromandel coast. 

No one suspected at the time that his work was of more than localimportance and would have more far-reaching consequences than the successof a trading company. Clive had, in fact, without knowing it, laid thefoundations of a vast empire. 

At intervals during the two years, scraps of news about Clive filteredthrough to his birthplace. His father had left the neighborhood, andStyche Hall was now in the hands of a stranger, so that Desmond hardlydared to hope that he would have an opportunity of seeing his idol. But, information having reached the court of directors that all was not goingwell in India, their eyes turned at once to Clive as the man to setthings right. They requested him to return to India as Governor of FortSt. David, and, since a good deal of the trouble was caused by quarrelsas to precedence between the king's and the Company's officers, theystrengthened his hands by obtaining for him a lieutenant colonel'scommission from King George. 

Clive was nothing loath to take up his work again. He had been somewhatextravagant since his arrival in England; great holes had been made inthe fortune he had brought back; and he was still a young man, full ofenergy and ambition. What was Desmond's ecstasy, then, to learn that hishero, on the eve of his departure, had accepted an invitation to the townof his birth, there to be entertained by the court leet. From the bailiffand the steward of the manor down to the javelin men and the ale taster, official Market Drayton was all agog to do him honor. Desmond lookedforward eagerly to this red letter day. 

His brother, as a yeoman of standing, was invited to the banquet, and itseemed to Desmond that Richard took a delight in taunting him, throwingcold water on his young enthusiasm, ironically commenting on the mistakesomeone had made in not including him among the guests. His crowningstroke of cruelty was to forbid the boy to leave the house on the greatevening, so that he might not even obtain a glimpse of Clive. But thiswas too much: Desmond for the first time deliberately defied hisguardian, and though he suffered the inevitable penalty, he had seen andheard his hero, and was content. 

Chapter 3: In which Mr. Marmaduke Diggle talks of the Golden East; and ourhero interrupts an interview, and dreams dreams. 

Sore from his flogging, Desmond, when he slept at last, slept heavily. Richard Burke was a stickler for early rising, and admitted no excuses. When his brother did not appear at the usual hour Richard went to hisroom, and, smiting with his rough hand the boy's bruised shoulders, startled him to wakefulness and pain. 

"Now, slug-a-bed, " he said, "you have ten minutes for your breakfast, then you will foot it to the Hall and see whether Sir Willoughby hasreturned or is expected. "

Turning on his heel, he went out to harry his laborers. 

Desmond, when he came down stairs, felt too sick to eat. He gulped apitcher of milk, then set off for his two-mile walk to the Hall. He wasglad of the errand. Sir Willoughby Stokes, the lord of the manor, was anold gentleman of near seventy years, a good landlord, a persistentJacobite, and a confirmed bachelor. By nature genial, he was subject toperiodical attacks of the gout, which made him terrible. At these timeshe betook himself to Buxton, or Bath, or some other spa, and so timed hisreturn that he was always good tempered on rent day, much to the reliefof his tenants. He disliked Richard Burke as a man as much as he admiredhim as a tenant; but he had taken a fancy to Desmond, lent him books fromhis library, took him out shooting when the weather and Richardpermitted, and played chess with him sometimes of a rainy afternoon. Hishousekeeper said that Master Desmond was the only human being whosepresence the squire could endure when the gout was on him. In short, SirWilloughby and Desmond were very good friends. 

Desmond had almost reached the gate of the Hall when, at a sudden turn ofthe road, he came upon a man seated upon a low hillock by the roadside, idly swishing at the long ripe grass with a cane. At the first glanceDesmond noticed the strangely-clad right hand of his overnightacquaintance; the shabby clothes, the red feather, the flaming neckcloth. 

The man looked up at his approach; the winning smile settled upon hisswarthy face, which daylight now revealed as seamed and scarred; and, without stirring from his seat or desisting from his occupation, helooked in the boy's face and said softly:

"You are early afoot, like the son of Anchises, my young friend. If Imistake not, when Aeneas met the son of Evander they joined their righthands. We have met; let us also join hands and bid each other a very goodmorning. "

Desmond shook hands; he did not know what to make of this remarkablefellow who must always be quoting from his school books; but there was noharm in shaking hands. He could not in politeness ask the question thatrose to his lips--why the stranger wore a mitten on one hand; and if theman observed his curiosity he let it pass. 

"You are on business bent, I wot, " continued the stranger. "Not for theworld would I delay you. But since the handclasp is but part of theceremony of introduction, might we not complete it by exchanging names?"

"My name is Desmond Burke, " said the boy. 

"A good name, a pleasant name, a name that I know. "

Desmond was conscious that the man was looking keenly at him. 

"There is a gentleman of the same name--I chanced to meet him inLondon--cultivating literature in the Temple; his praenomen, I bethinkme, is Edmund. And I bethink me, too, that in the course of myperegrinations on this planet I have more than once heard the name of oneCaptain Richard Burke, a notable seaman, in the service of our greatCompany. I repeat, my young friend, your name is a good one; may you liveto add luster to it!"

"Captain Burke was my father. "

"My prophetic soul!" exclaimed the stranger. "But surely you are somewhatlate in following the paternal craft; you do not learn seamanship in thissylvan sphere. "

"True, " responded Desmond, with a smile. "My father turned farmer; hedied when I was a little fellow, and I live with my mother. But you willexcuse me, sir; I have an errand to the Hall beyond us here. "

"I am rebuked. Nam garrulus idem est, as our friend Horace would say. Yetone moment. Ere we part let us complete our interrupted ceremony. Marmaduke Diggle, sir--plain Marmaduke Diggle, at your service. "

He swept off his hat with a smile. But as soon as Desmond had passed on, the smile faded. Marmaduke Diggle's mouth became hard, and he lookedafter the retreating form with a gaze in which curiosity, suspicion, anddislike were blended. 

He was still seated by the roadside when Desmond returned some minuteslater. 

"A pleasant surprise, Mr. Burke, " he said. "Your business is mostbriefly, and let us hope happily despatched. "

"Briefly, at any rate. I only went up to the Hall to see if the squirewas returned; it is near rent day, and he is not usually so late inreturning. "

"Ah, your squires!" said Diggle, with a sigh. "A fine thing to havelands--olive yards and vineyards, as the Scripture saith. You arereturning? The squire is not at home? Permit me to accompany you somesteps on your road. 

"Yes, it is a fine thing to be a landlord. It is a state of life much tobe envied by poor landless men like me. I confess I am poor--none thepleasanter because 'tis my own fault. You behold in me, Mr. Burke, one ofthe luckless. I sought fame and fortune years ago in the fabulous EastIndies--"

"The Indies, sir?"

"You are interested? In me also, when I was your age, the name stirred myblood and haunted my imagination. Yes, 'tis nigh ten years since I firstsailed from these shores for the marvelous east. Multum et terrisjactatus et alto. Twice have I made my fortune--got me enough of thewealth of Ormus and of Ind to buy up half your county. Twice, alas! hasan unkind Fate robbed me of my all! But, as I said, 'tis my own fault. Nemo contentus, sir--you know the passage? I was not satisfied: I musthave a little more; and yet a little more. I put my wealth forth inhazardous enterprises--presto! it is swept away. But I was born, sir, after all, under a merry star. Nothing discourages me. After a briefsojourn for recuperation in this salubrious spot, I shall return; andthis time, mark you, I shall run no risks. Five years to make my fortune;then I shall come home, content with a round ten lakhs. "

"What is a lakh?"

"Ah, I forgot, you are not acquainted with these phrases of the Orient. Alakh, my friend, is a hundred thousand rupees, say twelve thousandpounds. And I warrant you I will not squander it as a certain gentlemanwe know squandered his. "

"You mean General Clive?"

"Colonel Clive, my friend. Yes, I say Colonel Clive has squandered hisfortune. Why, he came home with thirty lakhs at the least: and what doeshe do? He must ruffle it in purple and fine linen, and feed the fat inroyal entertainments; then, forsooth, he stands for a seat in Parliament, pours out his gold like water--to what end? A petition is presentedagainst his return: the House holds an inquiry; and the end of the sorryfarce is, that Mr. Robert Clive's services are dispensed with. When Ithink of the good money he has wasted--But then, sir, I am no politician. Colonel Clive and I are two ruined men; 'tis a somewhat strangecoincidence that he and I are almost of an age, and that we both, beforemany weeks are past, shall be crossing the ocean once more to retrieveour fallen fortunes. "

Walking side by side during this conversation they had now come into theroad leading past Desmond's home. In the distance, approaching them, appeared a post chaise, drawn by four galloping horses. The sight brokethe thread of the conversation. 

"'Tis the squire at last!" cried Desmond. "Sure he must have put up atNewcastle overnight. "

But that he was intently watching the rapid progress of the chaise, hemight have noticed a curious change of expression on his companion'sface. The smile faded, the lips became set with a kind of grimdetermination. But Diggle's pleasant tone had not altered when he said:

"Our ways part here, my friend--for the present. I doubt not we shallmeet again; and if you care to hear of my adventures by field andflood--why, 'I will a round unvarnished tale deliver, ' as the Moor ofVenice says in the play. For the present, then, farewell!"

He turned down a leafy lane, and had disappeared from view before thechaise reached the spot. As it ran by, its only occupant, a big, red-faced, white-wigged old gentleman, caught sight of the boy and hailedhim in a rich, jolly voice. 

"Ha, Desmond! Home again, you see! Scotched the enemy once more! Come andsee me!"

The chaise was past before Desmond could reply. He watched it until itvanished from sight; then, feeling somewhat cheered, went on to report tohis brother that the squire had at last returned. 

He felt no little curiosity about his new acquaintance. What had broughthim to so retired a spot as Market Drayton? He could have no friends inthe neighborhood, or he would surely not have chosen for his lodging aplace of ill repute like the Four Alls. Yet he had seemed to have someacquaintance with Grinsell the innkeeper. He did not answer to Desmond'sidea of an adventurer. He was not rough of tongue or boisterous inmanner; his accent, indeed, was refined; his speech somewhat studied, and, to judge by his allusions and his Latin, he had some share of politelearning. Desmond was puzzled to fit these apparent incongruities, andlooked forward with interest to further meetings with Marmaduke Diggle. 

During the next few days they met more than once. It was always late inthe evening, always in quiet places, and Diggle was always alone. Apparently he desired to make no acquaintances. The gossips of theneighborhood seized upon the presence of a stranger at the Four Alls, butthey caught the barest glimpses of him; Grinsell was as a stone wall inunresponsiveness to their inquiries; and the black boy, if perchance acountryman met him on the road and questioned him, shook his head andmade meaningless noises in his throat, and the countryman would assurehis cronies that the boy was as dumb as a platter. 

But whenever Desmond encountered the stranger, strolling by himself inthe fields or some quiet lane, Diggle always seemed pleased to see him, and talked to him with the same ease and freedom, ever ready with a tagfrom his school books. Desmond did not like his Latin, but he foundcompensation in the traveler's tales of which Diggle had an inexhaustiblestore--tales of shipwreck and mutiny, of wild animals and wild men, ofDutch traders and Portuguese adventurers, of Indian nawabs and Frenchbucaneers. Above all was Desmond interested in stories of India: he heardof the immense wealth of the Indian princes, the rivalries of theEnglish, French, and Dutch trading companies; the keen struggle betweenFrance and England for the preponderating influence with the natives. Desmond was eager to hear of Clive's doings; but he found Diggle, for anEnglishman who had been in India, strangely ignorant of Clive's career;he seemed impatient of Clive's name, and was always more ready to talk ofhis French rivals, Dupleix and Bussy. The boy was impressed by themystery, the color, the romance of the East; and after these talks withDiggle he went home with his mind afire, and dreamed of elephants andtigers, treasures of gold and diamonds, and fierce battles in whichEnglish, French, and Indians weltered in seas of blood. 

One morning Desmond set out for a long walk in the direction of Newport. It was holiday on the farm; Richard Burke allowed his men a day off onceevery half year when he paid his rent. They would almost rather not havehad it, for he made himself particularly unpleasant both before andafter. On this morning he had got up in a bad temper, and managed to findhalf a dozen occasions for grumbling at Desmond before breakfast, so thatthe boy was glad to get away and walk off his resentment and soreness ofheart. 

As he passed the end of the lane leading toward the Hall, he saw two menin conversation some distance down it. One was on horseback, the other onfoot. At a second glance he saw with surprise that the mounted man washis brother; the other, Diggle. A well-filled moneybag hung at RichardBurke's saddle bow; he was on his way to the Hall to pay his rent. Hisback was towards Desmond; but, as the latter paused, Richard threw arapid glance over his shoulder, and with a word to the man at his sidecantered away. 

Diggle gave Desmond a hail and came slowly up the lane, his face wearingits usual pleasant smile. His manner was always very friendly, and hadthe effect of making Desmond feel on good terms with himself. 

"Well met, my friend, " said Diggle cordially. "I was longing for a chat. Beshrew me if I have spoken more than a dozen words today, and that, to aman of my sociable temper, not to speak of my swift and practisedtongue--lingua celer et exercitata: you remember the phrase ofTully's--is a sore trial. "

"You seemed to be having a conversation a moment ago, " said Desmond. 

"Seemed!--that is the very word. That excellent farmer--sure he hath aprosperous look--had mistaken me. 'Tis not the apparel makes the man; myattire is not of the best, I admit; but, I beg you tell me frankly, wouldyou have taken me for a husbandman, one who with relentless plowshareturns the stubborn soil, as friend Horace somewhere puts it? Would you, now?"

"Decidedly not. But did my brother so mistake you?"

"Your brother! Was that prosperous and well-mounted gentleman yourbrother?"

"Certainly. He is Richard Burke, and leases the Wilcote farm. "

"Noble pair of brothers!" exclaimed Diggle, seizing Desmond's reluctanthand. "I congratulate you, my friend. What a brother! I stopped him toask the time of day. But permit me to say, friend Desmond, you appearsomewhat downcast; your countenance hath not that serenity one looks forin a lad of your years. What is the trouble?"

"Oh, nothing to speak of, " said Desmond curtly; he was vexed that hisface still betrayed the irritation of the morning. 

"Very well, " said Diggle with a shrug. "Far be it from me to probe yoursorrows. They are nothing to me, but sure a simple question from afriend--"

"Pardon me, Mr. Diggle, " said Desmond impulsively, "I did not mean tooffend you. "

"My dear boy, a tough-hided traveler does not easily take offense. Shallwe walk? D'you know, Master Desmond, I fancy I could make a shrewd guessat your trouble. Your brother--Richard, I think you said?--is a farmer, he was born a farmer, he has the air of a farmer, and a well-doing farmerto boot. But we are not all born with a love for mother earth, and you, meseems, have dreamed of a larger life than lies within the pin folds ofa farm. To tell the truth, my lad, I have been studying you. "

They were walking now side by side along the Newport road. Desmond feltthat the stranger was becoming personal; but his manner was so suave andsympathetic that he could not take offense. 

"Yes, I have been studying you, " continued Diggle. "And what is the sumof my discovery? You are wasting your life here. A country village is noplace for a boy of ideas and imagination, of warm blood and springingfancy. The world is wide, my friend: why not adventure forth?"

"I have indeed thought of it, Mr. Diggle, but--"

"But me no buts, " interrupted Diggle, with a smile. "Your age is--"

"Near sixteen. "

"Ah, still a boy; you have a year ere you reach the bourne of youngmanhood, as the Romans held it. But what matters that? Was not ScipioAfricanus--namesake of the ingenuous youth that serves me--styled boy attwenty? Yet you are old enough to walk alone, and not in leadingstrings--or waiting maybe for dead men's shoes. "

"What do you mean, sir?" Desmond flashed out, reddening with indignation. 

"Do I offend you?" said Diggle innocently. "I make apology. But I hadheard, I own, that Master Desmond Burke was in high favor with yoursquire; 'tis even whispered that Master Desmond cherishes, cultivates, cossets the old man--a bachelor, I understand, and wealthy, and lackingkith or kin. Sure I should never have believed 'twas with anydishonorable motive. "

"'Tis not, sir. I never thought of such a thing. "

"I was sure of it. But to come back to my starting point. 'Tis time youbroke these narrow bounds. India, now--what better sphere for a young manbent on making his way? Look at Clive, whom you admire--as stupid a boyas you could meet in a day's march. Why, I can remember--"

He caught himself up, but after the slightest pause, resumed:

"Forsan et haec ohm meminisse juvabit. Look at Clive, I was saying; alout, a bear, a booby--as a boy, mark you; yet now! Is there a man whosename rings more loudly in the world's ear? And what Robert Clive is, thatDesmond Burke might be if he had the mind and the will. You are goingfarther? Ah, I have not your love of ambulation. I will bid you farewellfor this time; sure it will profit you to ponder my words. "

Desmond did ponder his words. He walked for three or four hours, thinkingall the time. Who had said that he was waiting for the squire's shoes? Heglowed with indignation at the idea of such a construction being placedupon his friendship for Sir Willoughby. 

"If they think that, " he said to himself, "the sooner I go away thebetter. "

And the seed planted by Diggle took root and began to germinate withwonderful rapidity. To emulate Clive!--what would he not give for thechance? But how was it possible? Clive had begun as a writer in theservice of the East India Company; but how could Desmond procure anomination? Perhaps Sir Willoughby could help him; he might haveinfluence with the Company's directors. But, supposing he obtained anomination, how could he purchase his outfit? He had but a few guineas, and after what Diggle had said he would starve rather than ask the squirefor a penny. True, under his father's will he was to receive fivethousand pounds at the age of twenty-one. Would Richard advance part ofthe sum? Knowing Richard, he hardly dared to hope for such a departurefrom the letter of the law. But it was at least worth attempting. 

Chapter 4: In which blows are exchanged; and our hero, setting forth uponhis travels, scents an adventure. 

That same day, at supper, seeing that Richard was apparently in goodhumor, Desmond ventured to make a suggestion. 

"Dick, " he said frankly, "don't you think it would be better for all ofus if I went away? You and I don't get along very well, and perhaps I wasnot cut out for a farmer. "

Richard grunted, and Mrs. Burke looked apprehensively from one to theother. 

"What's your idea?" asked Richard. 

"Well, I had thought of a writership in the East India Company's service, or better still, a cadetship in the Company's forces. "

"Hark to him!" exclaimed Richard, with a scornful laugh. "A second Clive, sink me! And where do you suppose the money is to come from?"

"Couldn't you advance me a part of what is to come to me when I amtwenty-one?"

"Not a penny, I tell you at once, not a penny. 'Tis enough to be saddledwith you all these years. You may think yourself lucky if I can scrapetogether a tenth of the money that'll be due to you when you'retwenty-one. That's the dead hand, if you like; why father put thatprovision in his will it passes common sense to understand. No, you'llhave to stay and earn part of it, though in truth you'll never be worthyour keep. "

"That depends on the keeper, " retorted Desmond, rather warmly. 

"No insolence, now. I repeat, I will not advance one penny! Go and getsome money out of the squire, that is so precious fond of you. "

"Richard, Richard!" said his mother anxiously. 

"Mother, I'm the boy's guardian. I know what it is. He has been crammedwith nonsense by that idle knave at the Four Alls. Look'ee, my man, if Icatch you speaking to him again, I'll flay your skin for you. "

"Why shouldn't I?" replied Desmond. "I saw you speaking to him. "

"Hold your tongue, sir. The dog accosted me. I answered his question andpassed on. Heed what I say: I'm a man of my word. "

Desmond said no more. But before he fell asleep that night he hadadvanced one step further towards freedom. His request had met with therefusal he had anticipated. He could hope for no pecuniary assistance; itremained to take the first opportunity of consulting Diggle. It wasDiggle who had suggested India as the field for his ambition; and thesuggestion would hardly have been made if there were great obstacles inthe way of its being acted on. Desmond made light of his brother'scommand that he should cut Diggle's acquaintance; it seemed to him onlyanother act of tyranny, and his relations with Richard were such that toforbid a thing was to provoke him to do it. 

His opportunity came next day. Late in the afternoon he met Diggle, as hehad done many times before, walking in the fields, remote from houses. When Desmond caught sight of him, he was sauntering along, his eyes bentupon the ground, his face troubled. But he smiled on seeing Desmond. 

"Well met, friend, " he said; "leni perfruor otio--which is as much as tosay--I bask in idleness. Well, now, I perceive in your eye that you havebeen meditating my counsel. 'Tis well, friend Desmond, and whereto hasyour meditation arrived?"

"I have thought over what you said. I do wish to get away from here; Ishould like to go to India; indeed, I asked my brother to advance a partof some money that is to come to me, so that I might obtain service withthe Company; but he refused. "

"And you come to me for counsel. 'Tis well done, though I trow yourbrother would scarce be pleased to hear of it. "

"He forbade me to speak to you. "

"Egad, he did! Haec summa est! What has he against me?--a question to beasked. I am a stranger in these parts: that is ill; and buffeted byfortune: that is worse; and somewhat versed in humane letters: that, tothe rustic intelligence, is a crime. Well, my lad, you have come to theright man at the right time. You are acquainted with my design shortly toreturn to the Indies--a rare field for a lad of mettle. You shall comewith me. "

"But are you connected with the Company? None other, I believed, has aright to trade. "

"The Company! Sure, my lad, I am no friend to the Company, a set ofstiff-necked, ignorant, grasping, paunchy peddlers who fatten at home onthe toil of better men. No, I am an adventurer, I own it; I am aninterloper; and we interlopers, despite the Company's monopoly, yetcontrive to keep body and soul together. "

"Then I should not sail to India on a Company's ship?"

"Far from it, indeed. But let not that disturb you, there are othervessels. And for the passage--why, sure I could find you a place assupercargo or some such thing; you would thus keep the little money youhave and add to it, forming a nest egg which, I say it without boasting, I could help you to hatch into a fine brood. I am not without friends inthe Indies, my dear boy; there are princes in that land whom I haveassisted to their thrones; and if, on behalf of a friend, I ask of themsome slight thing, provided it be honest--'tis the first law offriendship, says Tully, as you will remember, to seek honest things forour friends--if, I say, on your behalf, I proffer some slight request, sure the nawabs will vie to pleasure me, and the foundation of yourfortune will be laid. "

Desmond had not observed that, during this eloquent passage, Diggle hadmore than once glanced beyond him, as though his mind were not whollyoccupied with his oratorical efforts. It was therefore something of ashock that he heard him say in the same level tone:

"But I perceive your brother approaching. I am not the man to causedifferences between persons near akin; I will therefore leave you; wewill have further speech on the subject of our discourse. "

He moved away. A moment after, Richard Burke came up in a toweringpassion. 

"You brave me, do you?" he cried. "Did I not forbid you to converse withthat vagabond?"

"You have no right to dictate to me on such matters, " said Desmond hotly, facing his brother. 

"I've no right, haven't I?" shouted Richard. "I've a guardian's right tothrash you if you disobey me, and by George! I'll keep my promise. "

He lifted the riding whip, without which he seldom went abroad, andstruck at Desmond. But the boy's blood was up. He sprang aside as thethong fell; it missed him, and before the whip could be raised again hehad leaped towards his brother. Wrenching the stock from his grasp, Desmond flung the whip over the hedge into a green-mantled pool, andstood, his cheeks pale, his fists clenched, his eyes flaming, before theastonished man. 

"Coward!" he cried, "'tis the last time you lay hands on me. "

Recovered from his amazement at Desmond's resistance, Richard, purplewith wrath, advanced to seize the boy. But Desmond, nimbly evading hisclutch, slipped his foot within his brother's, and with a dexterousmovement tripped him up, so that he fell sprawling, with many an oath, onthe miry road. Before he could regain his feet, Desmond had vaulted thehedge and set off at a run towards home. Diggle was nowhere in sight. 

The die was now cast. Never before had Desmond actively retaliated uponhis brother, and he knew him well enough to be sure that such an affrontwas unforgivable. The farm would no longer be safe for him. Withstartling suddenness his vague notions of leaving home were crystallizedinto a resolve. No definite plan formed itself in his mind as he racedover the fields. He only knew that the moment for departure had come, andhe was hastening now to secure the little money he possessed and to makea bundle of his clothes and the few things he valued before Richard couldreturn. 

Reaching the Grange, he slipped quietly upstairs, not daring to face hismother, lest her grief should weaken his resolution, and in five minuteshe returned with his bundle. He stole out through the garden, skirted thecopse that bounded the farm inclosure, and ran for half a mile up thelane until he felt that he was out of reach. Then, breathless with haste, quivering with the shock of this sudden plunge into independence, he satdown on the grassy bank to reflect. 

What had he done? It was no light thing for a boy of his years, ignorantof life and the world, to cut himself adrift from old ties and voyageinto the unknown. Had he been wise? He had no trade as a standby; hiswhole endowment was his youth and his wits. Would they suffice? Diggle'stalk had opened up an immense prospect, full of color and mystery andromance, chiming well with his daydreams. Was it possible that, sailingto India, he might find some of his dreams come true?

Could he trust Diggle, a stranger, by his own admission an adventurer, aman who had run through two fortunes already? He had no reason fordistrust; Diggle was well educated, a gentleman, frank, amiable. Whatmotive could he have for leading a boy astray?

Mingled with Desmond's Irish impulsiveness there was a strain of cautionderived from the stolid English yeomen, his forebears on the maternalside. He felt the need, before crossing his Rubicon, of taking counselwith someone older and wiser--with a tried friend. Sir Willoughby Stokes, the squire, had always been kind to him. Would it not be well to put hiscase to the squire and follow his advice? But he durst not venture to theHall yet. His brother might suspect that he had gone there and seize him, or intercept him on the way. He would wait. It was the squire's custom tospend a quiet hour in his own room long after the time when other folk inthat rural neighborhood were abed. Desmond sometimes sat with him there, reading or playing chess. If he went up to the Hall at nine o'clock hewould be sure of a welcome. 

The evening passed slowly for Desmond in his enforced idleness. At nineo'clock, leaving his bundle in a hollow tree, he set off toward the Hall, taking a short cut across the fields. It was a dark night, and he stoppedwith a start as, on descending a stile overhung by a spreading sycamore, he almost struck against a person who had just preceded him. 

"Who's that?" he asked quickly, stepping back a little: it was unusual tomeet anyone in the fields at so late an hour. 

"Be that you, Measter Desmond?"

"Oh, 'tis you, Dickon. What are you doing this way at such an hour? Youought to have been abed long ago. "

"Ay, sure, Measter Desmond; but I be goin' to see squire, " said the oldman, apparently with some hesitation. 

"That's odd. So am I. We may as well walk together, then--for fear of theghosts, eh, Dickon?"

"I binna afeard o' ghosts, not I. True, 'tis odd I be goin' to seesquire. I feel it so. Squire be a high man, and I ha' never dared lift upmy voice to him oothout axen. But 'tis to be. I ha' summat to tell him, low born as I be; ay, I mun tell him, cost what it may. "

"Well, he's not a dragon. I have something to tell him too--cost what itmay. "

There was silence for a space. Then Dickon said tremulously:

"Bin it a great matter, yourn, sir, I make bold to axe?"

"That's as it turns out, Dickon. But what is it with you, old man? Isaught amiss?"

"Not wi' me, sir, not wi' me, thank the Lord above. But I seed ya, Measter Desmond, t'other day, in speech win that--that Diggle as he docall hisself, and--and I tell ya true, sir, I dunna like the looks onhim; no, he binna a right man; an' I were afeard as he med ha' binfillin' yer head wi' fine tales about the wonders o' the world an' all. "

"Is that all, Dickon? You fear my head may be turned, eh? Don't worryabout me. "

"Why, sir, ya may think me bold, but I do say this. If so be ya getsnotions in yer head--notions o' goin' out along an' seein' the world an'all, go up an' axe squire about it. Squire he done have a wise head;he'll advise ya for the best; an' sure I bin he'd warn ya not to have nodealin's win that Diggle, as he do call hissen. "

"Why, does the squire know him, then?"

"'Tis my belief squire do know everything an' everybody. Diggle he mednot know, to be sure, but if so be ya say 'tis a lean man, wi' sharpnose, an' black eyes like live coals, an' a smilin' mouth--why, squireknows them sort, he done, and wouldna trust him not a ell. But maybe ya'dbetter go on, sir: my old shanks be slow fur one so young an' nimble. "

"No hurry, Dickon. Lucky the squire was used to London hours in hisyouth, or we'd find him abed. See, there's a light in the Hall; 'tis inthe strong room next to the library; Sir Willoughby is reckoning up hisrents maybe, though 'tis late for that. "

"Ay, ya knows the Hall, true. Theer be a terrible deal o gowd an' silverup in that room, fur sure, more 'n a aged man like me could tell in aweek. "

"The light is moving; it seems Sir Willoughby is finishing up for thenight. I hope we shall not be too late. "

But at this moment a winding of the path brought another face of the Hallinto view. 

"Why, Dickon, " exclaimed Desmond, "there's another light; 'tis thesquire's own room. He cannot be in two places at once; 'tis odd at thistime of night. Come, stir your stumps, old man. "

They hurried along, scrambling through the hedge that bounded the field, Desmond leaping, Dickon wading the brook that ran alongside the road. Turning to the left, they came to the front entrance to the Hall, andpassed through the wicket gate into the grounds. They could see thesquire's shadow on the blind of the parlor; but the lighted window of thestrong room was now hidden from them. 

Stepping in that direction, to satisfy a strange curiosity he felt, Desmond halted in amazement as he saw, faintly silhouetted against thesky, a ladder placed against the wall, resting on the sill of the strongroom. His surprise at seeing lights in two rooms, in different wings ofthe house, so late at night, changed to misgiving and suspicion. Hehastened back to Dickon. 

"I fear some mischief is afoot, " he said. Drawing the old man into theshade of the shrubbery, he added: "Remain here; do not stir until I comefor you, or unless you hear me call. "

Leaving Dickon in trembling perplexity and alarm, he stole forward ontiptoe towards the house. 

Chapter 5: In which Job Grinsell explains; and three visitors come by nightto the Four Alls. 

At the foot of the wall lay a flower bed, now bare and black, separatedby a gravel path from a low shrubbery of laurel. Behind this latterDesmond stole, screened from observation by the bushes. Coming to a spotexactly opposite the ladder, he saw that it rested on the sill of thelibrary window, which was open. The library itself was dark, but therewas still a dull glow in the next room. At the foot of the ladder stood aman. 

The meaning of it all was plain. The large sum of money recently receivedby Sir Willoughby as rents had tempted someone to rob him. The robbermust have learned that the money was kept in the strong room; and itargued either considerable daring or great ignorance to have timed hisvisit for an hour when anyone familiar with the squire's habits wouldhave known that he would not yet have retired to rest. 

Desmond was about to run round to the other side of the house and rousethe squire, when the dim light in the strong room was suddenlyextinguished. Apparently the confederate of the man below had secured hisbooty and was preparing to return. Desmond remained fixed to the spot, insome doubt what to do. He might call to Dickon and make a rush on the manbefore him, but the laborer was old and feeble, and the criminal was nodoubt armed. A disturber would probably be shot, and though the shotwould alarm the household, the burglars would have time to escape in thedarkness. Save Sir Willoughby himself, doubtless every person in thehouse was by this time abed and asleep. 

It seemed best to Desmond to send Dickon for help while he himself stillmounted guard. Creeping silently as a cat along the shrubbery, hehastened back to the laborer, told him in a hurried whisper of hisdiscovery, and bade him steal round to the servants' quarters, rouse themquietly, and bring one or two to trap the man at the foot of the ladderwhile others made a dash through the library upon the marauder in thestrong room. Dickon, whose wits were nimbler than his legs, understoodwhat he was to do and slipped away, Desmond returning to his coign ofvantage as noiselessly as he came. 

He was just in time to see that a heavy object, apparently a box, wasbeing lowered from the library window on to the ladder. Sliding slowlydown, it came to the hands of the waiting man; immediately afterwards therope by which it had been suspended was dropped from above, and the darkfigure of a man mounted the sill. 

He already had one leg over, preparing to descend, when Desmond, with asudden rush, dashed through the shrubs and sprang across the path. Theconfederate was stooping over the booty; his back was towards theshrubbery; at the snapping of twigs and the crunching of the gravel hestraightened himself and turned. Before he was aware of what washappening, Desmond caught at the ladder by the lowest rung, and jerked itviolently outwards so that its top fell several feet below thewindowsill, resting on the wall out of reach of the man above. 

Desmond heard a smothered exclamation break from the fellow, but he couldpay no further attention to him, for, as he rose from stooping over theladder, he was set upon by a burly form. He dodged behind the ladder. Theman sprang after him, blindly, clumsily, and tripped over the box. But hewas up in a moment, and, reckless of the consequences of raising analarm, was fumbling for a pistol, when there fell upon his ears a shout, the tramp of hurrying feet, and the sound of another window being thrownopen. 

With a muffled curse he swung on his heel, and made to cross the gravelpath and plunge into the shrubbery. But Desmond was too quick for him. Springing upon his back, he caught his arms, thus preventing him fromusing his pistol. He was a powerful man, and Desmond alone would havebeen no match for him; but before he could wriggle himself entirely free, three half-clad men servants came up with a rush, and in a trice he wassecured. 

In the excitement of these close-packed moments Desmond had forgotten theother man, whom he had last seen with his leg dangling over thewindowsill. He looked up now; the window was still open; the ladder layexactly where he had jerked it; evidently the robber had not descended. 

"Quick!" cried Desmond. "Round to the door! The other fellow willescape!"

He himself sprinted round the front of the house to the door by which theservants had issued, and met the squire hobbling along on his stick, pistol in hand. 

"We have got one, sir!" cried Desmond. "Have you seen the other?"

"What--why--how many villains are there?" replied the squire, who, between amazement and wrath, was scarcely able to appreciate thesituation. 

"There was a man in the library; he did not come down the ladder; he maybe still in the house. "

"The deuce he is! Desmond, take the pistol, and shoot the knave like adog if you meet him. "

"I'll guard the door, Sir Willoughby. They are bringing the other manround. Then we'll go into the house and search. He can't get out withoutbeing seen if the other doors are locked. "

"Locked and barred. I did it myself an hour ago. I'll hang the villain. "

In a few moments the servants came up with their captive and the box, oldDickon following. Only their figures could be seen: it was too dark todistinguish features. 

"You scoundrel!" cried the squire, brandishing his stick. "You'll hangfor this. 

"Take him into the house. In with you all. 

"You scoundrel!"

"An' you please, Sir Willoughby, 'tis--" began one of the servants. 

"In with you, I say, " roared the squire. "I'll know how to deal with thevillain. "

The culprit was hustled into the house, and the group followed, SirWilloughby bringing up the rear. Inside he barred and locked the door, and bade the men carry their prisoner to the library. The corridors andstaircase were dark, but by the time the squire had mounted on his goutylegs, candles had been lighted, and the face of the housebreaker was forthe first time visible. Two servants held the man; the others, withDesmond and Dickon, looked on in amazement. 

"Job Grinsell, on my soul and body!" cried the squire. "You villain! Youungrateful knave! Is this how you repay me? I might have hanged you, youscoundrel, when you poached my game; a word from me and Sir Philip wouldhave seen you whipped before he let his inn to you; but I was too kind; Iam a fool; and you--by, gad, you shall hang this time. "

The squire's face was purple with anger, and he shook his stick as thoughthen and there he would have wrought chastisement on the offender. Grinsell's flabby face, however, expressed amusement rather than fear. 

"Bless my soul!" cried the squire, suddenly turning to his men, "I'dforgotten the other villain. Off with you; search for him; bring himhere. "

Desmond had already set off to look for Grinsell's accomplice. Taper inhand he went quickly from room to room; joined by the squire's servants, he searched every nook and cranny of the house, examining doors andwindows, opening cupboards, poking at curtains--all in vain. At last, atthe end of a dark corridor, he came upon an open window some ten feetabove the ground. It was so narrow that a man of ordinary size must havehad some difficulty in squeezing his shoulders through; but Desmond wasforced to the conclusion that the housebreaker had sprung out here, andby this time had made good his escape. Disappointed at his failure, hereturned with the servants to the library. 

"We can't find him, Sir Willoughby, " said Desmond, as he opened the door. 

To his surprise, Grinsell and Dickon were gone; no one but the squire wasin the room, and he was sitting in a big chair, limp and listless, hiseyes fixed upon the floor. 

"We can't find him, " repeated Desmond. 

The squire looked up. 

"What did you say?" he asked, as though the events of the past half-hourwere a blank. "Oh, 'tis you, Desmond, yes; what can I do for you?"

Desmond was embarrassed. 

"I--we have--we have looked for the other villain, Sir Willoughby, " hestammered. "We can't find him. "

"Ah! 'Twas you gave the alarm. Good boy; zeal, excellent; but a littlemistake; yes, Grinsell explained; a mistake, Desmond. "

The squire spoke hurriedly, disconnectedly, with an embarrassment evengreater than Desmond's. 

"But, sir, " the boy began, "I saw--"

"Yes, yes, " interrupted the old man. "I know all about it. But Grinsell'sexplanation--yes, I know all about it. I am obliged to you, Desmond; butI am satisfied with Grinsell's explanation; I shall go no further in thematter. "

He groaned and put his hand to his head. 

"Are you ill, Sir Willoughby?" asked Desmond anxiously. 

The squire looked up; his face was an image of distress. He was silentfor a moment; then said slowly:

"Sick at heart, Desmond, sick at heart. I am an old man--an old man. "

Desmond was uncomfortable. He had never seen the squire in such a mood, and had a healthy boy's natural uneasiness at any display of feeling. 

"You see that portrait?" the squire went on, pointing wearily with hisstick at the head of a young man done in oils. "The son of my oldestfriend--my dear old friend Merriman. I never told you of him. Nine yearsago, Desmond--nine years ago, my old friend was as hale and hearty a manas myself, and George was the apple of his eye. They were for theking--God save him!-and when word came that Prince Charles was marchingsouth from Scotland, they arranged secretly with a party of loyalgentlemen to join him. But I hung back; I had not their courage; I amalive, and I lost my friend. "

His voice sank, and, leaning heavily upon his stick, he gazed vacantlyinto space. Desmond was perplexed and still more ill at ease. What hadthis to do with the incidents of the night? He shrank from asking thequestion. 

"Yes, I lost my friend, " the squire continued. "We had news of theprince; he had left Carlisle; he was moving southwards, about to strike ablow for his father's throne. He was approaching Derby. George Merrimansent a message to his friends, appointing a rendezvous: gallantgentlemen, they would join the Stuart flag! The day came, they met, andthe minions of the Hanoverian surrounded them. Betrayed!--poor, loyalgentlemen, betrayed by one who had their confidence and abused it--one ofmy own blood, Desmond--the shame of it! They were tried, hanged--hanged!It broke my old friend's heart; he died; 'twas one of my blood thatkilled him. "

Again speech failed him. Then, with a sudden change of manner, he said:

"But 'tis late, boy; your brother keeps early hours. I am not myselftonight; the memory of the past unnerves me. Bid me good night, boy. "

Desmond hesitated, biting his lips. What of the motive of his visit? Hehad come to ask advice; could he go without having mentioned the subjectthat troubled him? The old man had sunk into a reverie; his lips moved asthough he communed with himself. Desmond had not the heart to intrude hisconcerns on one so bowed with grief. 

"Good night, Sir Willoughby!" he said. 

The squire paid no heed, and Desmond, vexed, bewildered, went slowly fromthe room. 

At the outer door he found Dickon awaiting him. 

"The squire has let Grinsell go, Dickon, " he said; "he says 'twas all amistake. "

"If squire says it, then 't must be, " said Dickon slowly, nodding hishead. 

"We'n better be goin' home, sir. "

"But you had something to tell Sir Willoughby?"

"Ay, sure, but he knows it--knows it better'n me. "

"Come, Dickon, what is this mystery! I am in a maze; what is it, man?"

"Binna fur a aged, poor feller like me to say. We'n better go home, sir. "

Nothing that Desmond said prevailed upon Dickon to tell more, and the twostarted homewards across the fields. 

Some minutes afterwards they heard the sound of a horse's hoofsclattering on the road to their left, and going in the same direction. Itwas an unusual sound at that late hour, and both stopped instinctivelyand looked at each other. 

"A late traveler, Dickon, " said Desmond. 

"Ay, maybe a king's post, Measter Desmond, " replied the old man. 

Without more words they went on till they came to a lane leading to thelaborer's cottage. 

"We part here, " said Desmond. "Dickon, good night!"

"Good night to you, sir!" said the old man. He paused; then, in a grave, earnest, quavering voice, he added: "The Lord Almighty have you in hiskeeping, Measter Desmond, watch over you night and day, now andevermore. "

And with that he hobbled down the lane. 

At nine o'clock that night Richard Burke left the Grange--an unusualthing for him--and walked quickly to the Four Alls. The inn was closed, and shutters darkened the windows; but, seeing a chink of light betweenthe folds, the farmer knocked at the door. There was no answer. Heknocked again and again, grumbling under his breath. At length, when hispatience was almost exhausted, a window above opened, and, looking up, Mr. Burke dimly saw a head. 

"Is that you, Grinsell?" he asked. 

"No, massa. "

"Oh, you're the black boy, Mr. Diggle's servant. Is your master in?"

"No, massa. "

"Well, come down and open the door. I'll wait for him. "

"Massa said no open door for nuffin. "

"Confound you, open at once! He knows me; I'm a friend of his; open thedoor!"

"Massa said no open door for nobody. "

The farmer pleaded, stormed, cursed, but Scipio Africanus was inflexible. His master had given him orders, and the boy had learned, at no littlecost, that it was the wisest and safest policy to obey. Finding thatneither threats nor persuasion availed, Burke took a stride or two in thedirection of home; then he halted, pondered for a moment, changed hismind, and began to pace up and down the road. 

His restless movements were by and by checked by the sound of footstepsapproaching. He crossed the road, stood in the shadow of an elm andwaited. The footsteps drew nearer; he heard low voices, and now discernedtwo dark figures against the lighter road. They came to the inn andstopped. One of them took a key from his pocket and inserted it in thelock. 

"'Tis you at last, " said Burke, stepping out from his place ofconcealment. "That boy of yours would not let me in, hang him!"

At the first words Diggle started and swung round, his right hand flyingto his pocket; but, recognizing the voice almost immediately, he laughed. 

"'Tis you, my friend, " he said. "Multa de nocte profectus es. But you'veforgot all your Latin, Dick. What is the news, man? Come in. "

"The bird is flitting, Sim, that's all. He has not been home. His motherwas in a rare to-do. I pacified her; told her I'd sent him to Chester tosell oats--haw, haw! He has taken some clothes and gone. But he won't gofar, I trow, without seeing you, and I look to you to carry out thebargain. "

"Egad, Dick, I need no persuasion. He won't go without me, I promise youthat. I've a bone to pick with him myself--eh, friend Job?"

Grinsell swore a hearty oath. At this moment the silence without wasbroken by the sound of a trotting horse. 

"Is the door bolted?" whispered Burke. "I mustn't be seen here. "

"Trust me fur that, " said Grinsell. "But no one will stop here at thistime o' night. "

But the three men stood silent, listening. The sound steadily grewlouder; the horse was almost abreast of the inn; it was passing--but no, it came to a halt; they heard a man's footsteps, and the sound of thebridle being hitched to a hook in the wall. Then there was a sharp rap atthe door. 

"Who's there?" cried Grinsell gruffly. 

"Open the door instantly, " said a loud, masterful voice. 

Burke looked aghast. 

"You can't let him in, " he whispered. 

The others exchanged glances. 

"Open the door, " cried the voice again. "D'you hear, Grinsell? Atonce!--or I ride to Drayton for the constables. "

Grinsell gave Diggle a meaning look. 

"Slip out by the back door, Mr. Burke, " said the innkeeper. "I'll make anoise with the bolts so that he cannot hear you. "

Burke hastily departed, and Grinsell, after long, loud fumbling with thebolts, threw open the door and gave admittance to the squire. 

"Ah, you are here both, " said Sir Willoughby, standing in the middle ofthe floor, his riding whip in his hand. 

"Now, Mr. --Diggle, I think you call yourself, I'm a man of few words, asyou know. I have to say this, I give you till eight o'clock tomorrowmorning; if you are not gone, bag and baggage, by that time, I will issuea warrant. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, " said Diggle with his enigmatical smile. 

"And one word more. Show your face again in these parts and I shall haveyou arrested. I have spared you twice for your mother's sake. This is mylast warning. 

"Grinsell, you hear that, too?"

"I hear 't, " growled the man. 

"Remember it, for, mark my words, you'll share his fate. "

The squire was gone. 

Grinsell scowled with malignant spite; Diggle laughed softly. 

"Quanta de spe decidi!" he said, "which in plain English, friend Job, means that we are dished--utterly, absolutely. I must go on my travelsagain. Well, such was my intention; the only difference is, that I gowith an empty purse instead of a full one. Who'd have thought the old dogwould ha' been such an unconscionable time dying!"

"Gout or no gout, he's good for another ten year, " growled the innkeeper. 

"Well, I'll give him five. And, with the boy out of the way, maybe I'llcome to my own even yet. The young puppy!"

At this moment Diggle's face was by no means pleasant to look upon. 

"Fate has always had a grudge against me, Job. In the old days, I bethinkme, 'twas I that was always found out. You had many an escape. "

"Till the last. But I've come out of this well. " He chuckled. "To thinkwhat a fool blood makes of a man! Squire winna touch me, 'cause of you. But it must gall him; ay, it must gall him. "

"I--list!" said Diggle suddenly. "There are footsteps again. Is it Burkecoming back? The door's open, Job. "

The innkeeper went to the door and peered into the dark. A slight figurecame up at that moment--a boy, with a bundle in his hand. 

"Is that you, Grinsell? Is Mr. Diggle in?"

"Come in, my friend, " said Diggle, hastening to the door. "We were justtalking of you. Come in; 'tis a late hour; si vespertinus subito--youremember old Horace? True, we haven't a hen to baste with Falernian foryou, but sure friend Job can find a wedge of Cheshire and a mug of ale. Come in. "

And Desmond went into the inn. 

Chapter 6: In which the reader becomes acquainted with William Bulger andother sailor men; and our hero as a squire of dames acquits himself withcredit. 

One warm October afternoon, some ten days after the night of his visit tothe Four Alls, Desmond was walking along the tow path of the Thames, somewhat north of Kingston. As he came to the spot where the river bendsround towards Teddington, he met a man plodding along with a rope overhis shoulder, hauling a laden hoy. 

"Can you tell me the way to the Waterman's Rest?" asked Desmond. 

"Ay, that can I, " replied the man without stopping. "'Tis about a quartermile behind me, right on waterside. And the best beer this side o'Greenwich. "

Thanking him, Desmond walked on. He had not gone many yards fartherbefore there fell upon his ear, from some point ahead, the sound ofseveral rough voices raised in chorus, trolling a tune that seemedfamiliar to him. As he came nearer to the singers, he distinguished thewords of the song, and remembered the occasion on which he had heard thembefore: the evening of Clive's banquet at Market Drayton--the open windowof the Four Alls, the voice of Marmaduke Diggle. 

"Sir William Norris, Masulipatam"--these were the first words he caught;and immediately afterwards the voices broke into the second verse:

"Says Governor Pitt, Fort George, Madras, 'I know what you are: an ass, an ass, An ass, an ass, an ASS, an ASS, 'Signed 'Governor Pitt, Fort George, Madras. '"

And at the conclusion there was a clatter of metal upon wood, and thenone voice, loud and rotund, struck up the first verse once more--"SaysBilly Norris, Masulipatam"--The singer was in the middle of the stavewhen Desmond, rounding a privet hedge, came upon the scene. A patch ofgreensward, sloping up from a slipway on the riverside; a low, cozy-looking inn of red brick covered with a crimson creeper; in front ofit a long deal table, and seated at the table a group of some eight orten seamen, each with a pewter tankard before him. To the left, andsomewhat in the rear of the long table, was a smaller one, at which twoseamen, by their garb a cut above the others, sat opposite each other, intent on some game. 

Desmond's attention was drawn towards the larger table. Rough as was thecommon seaman of George the Second's time, the group here collected wouldhave been hard to match for villainous looks. One had half his teethknocked out, another a broken nose; all bore scars and other marks ofbattery. 

Among them, however, there was one man marked out by his generalappearance and facial expression as superior to the rest. In dress he wasno different from his mates; he wore the loose blouse, the pantaloons, the turned-up cloth hat of the period. But he towered above them inheight; he had a very large head, with a very small squab nose, merryeyes, and a fringe of jet-black hair round cheeks and chin. 

When he removed his hat presently he revealed a shiny pink skull, risingfrom short, wiry hair as black as his whiskers. Alone of the group, hewore no love locks or greased pigtail. In his right hand, when Desmondfirst caught sight of him, he held a tankard, waving it to and fro intime with his song. He had lost his left hand and forearm, which werereplaced by an iron hook projecting from a wooden socket, just visible inhis loose sleeve. 

He was halfway through the second stanza when he noticed Desmond standingat the angle of the hedge a few yards away. He fixed his merry eyes onthe boy, and, beating time with his hook, went on with the song instentorian tones:

"An ass, an ass, an Ass, an ASS, Signed 'Governor Pitt, Fort George, Madras. '"

The others took up the chorus, and finally brought their tankards downupon the deal with a resounding whack. 

"Ahoy, Mother Wiggs, more beer!" shouted the big man. 

Desmond went forward. 

"Is this the Waterman's Rest?"

"Ay, ay, young gen'leman, and a blamed restful place it is, too, fit forwatermen what en't naught but landlubbers, speaking by the book, but notfit for the likes of us jack tars. Eh, mateys?"

His companions grunted acquiescence. 

"I have a message for Mr. Toley; is he here?"

"Ay, that he is. That's him at the table yonder. 

"Mr. Toley, sir, a young gen'leman to see you. "

Desmond advanced to the smaller table. The two men looked up from theirgame of dominoes. One was a tall, lean fellow, with lined and sunkencheeks covered with iron-gray stubble, a very sharp nose, and colorlesseyes; the expression of his features was melancholy in the extreme. Theother was a shorter man, snub-nosed, big-mouthed; one eye was blue, theother green, and they looked in contrary directions. His hat was tiltedforward, resting on two bony prominences above his eyebrows. 

"Well?" said Mr. Toley, the man of melancholy countenance. 

"I have a message from Captain Barker, " said Desmond. "I am to say thathe expects you and the men at Custom House Quay next Wednesday morning, high tide at five o'clock. "

Mr. Toley lifted the tankard at his left hand, drained it, smacked hislips, then said in a hollow voice:

"Bulger, Custom House Quay, Wednesday morning, five o'clock. "

A grunt of satisfaction and relief rolled round the company, and inresponse to repeated cries for more beer a stout woman in a mob cap anddirty apron came from the inn with a huge copper can, from which sheproceeded to fill the empty tankards. 

"Is the press still hot, sir?" asked Mr. Toley. 

"Yes. Four men, I was told, were hauled out of the Good Intentyesterday. "

"And four bad bargains for the king, " put in the second man, whose crossglances caused Desmond no little discomfort. 

At this moment Joshua Wiggs, the innkeeper, came up, carrying threefowling pieces. 

"There be plenty o' ducks today, mister, " he said. 

"Then we'll try our luck, " said Mr. Toley, rising. 

"Thank 'ee, my lad, " he added to Desmond. "You'll take a sup with the menafore you go?

"Bulger, see to the gentleman. "

"Ay, ay, sir. 

"Come aboard, matey. "

He made a place for Desmond at his side on the bench, and called toMother Wiggs to bring a mug for the gentleman. Meanwhile, Mr. Toley andhis companion had each taken a fowling piece and gone away with thelandlord. Bulger winked at his companions, and when the sportsmen wereout of earshot he broke into a guffaw. 

"Rare sport they'll have! I wouldn't be in Mr. Toley's shoes forsomething. What's a cock-eyed man want with a gun in his hand, eh, mateys?"

Desmond felt somewhat out of his element in his present company; buthaving reasons of his own for making himself pleasant, he said, by way ofopening a conversation:

"You seem pleased at the idea of going to sea again, Mr. Bulger. "

"Well, we are and we en't, eh, mateys? The Waterman's Rest en't exactlythe kind of place to spend shore leave; it en't a patch on Wapping orRotherhithe. And to tell 'ee true, we're dead sick of it. But there'sreasons; there mostly is; and the whys and wherefores, therefores andbecauses, I dessay you know, young gen'lman, acomin' from CaptainBarker. "

"The press gang?"

"Ay, the press is hot in these days. Cap'n sent us here to be out o' theway, and the orficers to look arter us. Not but what 'tis safer for themtoo; for if Mr. Sunman showed his cock-eyes anywhere near the Pool, he'dbe nabbed by the bailiffs, sure as he's second mate o' the Good Intent. Goin' to sea's bad enough, but the Waterman's Rest and holdin' on theslack here's worse, eh, mateys?"

"Ay, you're right there, Bulger. "

"But why don't you like going to sea?" asked Desmond. 

"Why? You're a landlubber, sir--meanin' no offense--or you wouldn't axesich a foolish question. At sea 'tis all rope's end and salt pork, withIrish horse for a tit-bit. "

"Irish horse?"

"Ay. That's our name for it. 'Cos why? Explain to the gen'lman, mateys. "

With a laugh the men began to chant--"Salt horse, salt horse, what brought you here?You've carried turf for many a year. From Dublin quay to MallyackYou've carried turf upon your back. "

"That's the why and wherefore of it, " added Bulger. "Cooks call it saltbeef, same as French mounseers don't like the sound of taters an' calls'em pummy detair; but we calls it Irish horse, which we know the flavor. Accordingly, notwithstandin' an' for that reason, if you axe the adviceof an old salt, never you go to sea, matey. "

"That's unfortunate, " said Desmond, with a smile, "because I expect tosail next Wednesday morning, high tide at five o'clock. "

"Binks and barnacles! Be you a-goin' to sail with us?"

"I hope so. "

"Billy come up! You've got business out East, then?"

"Not yet, but I hope to have. I'm going out as supercargo. "

"Oh! As supercargo!"

Bulger winked at his companions, and a hoarse titter went the round ofthe table. 

"Well, " continued Bulger, "the supercargo do have a better time of itthan us poor chaps. And what do Cap'n Barker say to you as supercargo, which you are very young, sir?"

"I don't know Captain Barker. "

"Oho! But I thought as how you brought a message from the captain?"

"Yes, but it came through Mr. Diggle. "

"Ah! Mr. Diggle?"

"A friend of mine--a friend of the captain. He has arranged everything. "

"I believe you, matey. He's arranged everything. Supercargo! Well, to besure! Never a supercargo as I ever knowed but wanted a man to look arterhim, fetch and carry for him, so to say. How would I do, if I might makeso bold?"

"Thanks, " said Desmond, smiling as he surveyed the man's huge form. "ButI think Captain Barker might object to that. You'd be of more use ondeck, in spite of--"

He paused, but his glance at the iron hook had not escaped Bulger'sobservant eye. 

"Spite of the curlin' tongs, you'd say. Bless you, spit it out; I en'ttender in my feelin's. "

"Besides, " added Desmond, "I shall probably make use of the boy who hasbeen attending to me at the Goat and Compasses--a clever little black boyof Mr. Diggle's. "

"Black boys be hanged! I never knowed a Sambo as was any use on boardship. They howls when they're sick, and they're allers sick, and neverlarns to tell a marlinspike from a belayin' pin. "

"But Scipio isn't one of that sort. He's never sick, Mr. Diggle says;they've been several voyages together, and Scipio knows a ship from stemto stern. "

"Scipio, which his name is? Uncommon name, that. "

There was a new tone in Bulger's voice, and he gave Desmond a keen and, as it seemed, a troubled look. 

"Yes, it is strange, " replied the boy, vaguely aware of the change ofmanner. "But Mr. Diggle has ways of his own. "

"This Mr. Diggle, now; I may be wrong, but I should say--yes, he's short, with bow legs and a wart on his cheek?"

"No, no; you must be thinking of some one else. He is tall, rather awell-looking man; he hasn't a wart, but there is a scar on his brow, something like yours. "

"Ah, I know they sort; a fightin' sort o' feller, with a voicelike--which I say, like a nine pounder?"

"Well, not exactly; he speaks rather quietly; he is well educated, too, to judge by the Latin he quotes. "

"Sure now, a scholard. Myself, I never had no book larnin' to speak of;never got no further than pothooks an' hangers!"

He laughed as he lifted his hook. But he seemed to be disinclined forfurther conversation. He buried his face in his tankard, and when he hadtaken a long pull, set the vessel on the table and stared at it with apreoccupied air. He seemed to have forgotten the presence of Desmond. Theother men were talking among themselves, and Desmond, having by this timefinished his mug of beer, rose to go on his way. 

"Goodby, Mr. Bulger, " he said; "we shall meet again next Wednesday. "

"Ay, ay, sir, " returned the man. 

He looked long after the boy as he walked away. 

"Supercargo!" he muttered. "Diggle! I may be wrong, but--"

Desmond had come through Southwark and across Clapham and WimbledonCommon, thus approaching the Waterman's Rest from the direction ofKingston. Accustomed as he was to long tramps, he felt no fatigue, andwith a boy's natural curiosity he decided to return to the city by adifferent route, following the river bank. He had not walked far beforehe came to the ferry at Twickenham. The view on the other side of theriver attracted him: meadows dotted with cows and sheep, a verdant hillwith pleasant villas here and there; and, seeing the ferryman resting onhis oars, he accosted him. 

"Can I get to London if I cross here?" he asked. 

"Sure you can, sir. Up the hill past Mr. Walpole his house; then youcomes to Isleworth and Brentford, and a straight road through Hammersmithvillage--a fine walk, sir, and only a penny for the ferryman. "

Desmond paid his penny and crossed. He sauntered along up StrawberryHill, taking a good look at the snug little house upon which Mr. HoraceWalpole was spending much money and pains. Wandering on, and preferringbylanes to the high road, he lost his bearings, and at length, fearingthat he was going in the wrong direction, he stopped at a wayside cottageto inquire the way. 

He was farther out than he knew. The woman who came to the door in answerto his knock said that, having come so far, he had better proceed in thesame direction until he reached Hounslow, and then strike into the Londonroad and keep to it. 

Desmond was nothing loath. He had heard of Hounslow and those notorious"Diana's foresters, " Plunket and James Maclean--highwaymen who a fewyears before had been the terror of night travelers across the lonelyHeath. There was a fascination about the scene of their exploits. So hetrudged on, feeling now a little tired, and hoping to get a lift in somefarmer's cart that might be going towards London. 

More than once as he walked his thoughts recurred to the scene at theWaterman's Rest. They were a rough, villainous-looking set, these membersof the crew of the Good Intent! Of course, as supercargo he would notcome into close contact with them; and Mr. Diggle had warned him that hewould find seafaring men somewhat different from the country folk amongwhom all his life hitherto had been passed. 

Diggle's frankness had pleased him. They had left the Four Alls early onthe morning after that strange incident at the squire's. Desmond had toldhis friend what had happened, and Diggle, apparently surprised to learnof Grinsell's villainy, had declared that the sooner they were out of hiscompany the better. They had come by easy stages to London, and were nowlodging at a small inn near the Tower: not a very savory neighborhood, Diggle admitted, but convenient. Diggle had soon obtained for Desmond aberth on board the Good Intent bound for the East Indies, and from whathe let drop, the boy understood that he was to sail as supercargo. 

He had not yet seen the vessel; she was painting, and would shortly becoming up to the Pool. Nor had he seen Captain Barker, who was very muchoccupied, said Diggle, and had a great deal of trouble in keeping hiscrew out of the clutches of the press gang. Some of the best of them hadbeen sent to the Waterman's Rest in charge of the chief and second mates. It was at Diggle's suggestion that he had been deputed to convey thecaptain's message to the men. 

It was drawing towards evening when Desmond reached Hounslow Heath; awide, bare expanse of scrubby land intersected by a muddy road. A lightmist lay over the ground, and he was thankful that the road to London wasperfectly direct, so that there was no further risk of his losing hisway. The solitude and the dismal appearance of the country, together withits ill repute, made him quicken his pace, though he had no fear ofmolestation; having nothing to lose, he would be but poor prey for ahighwayman, and he trusted to his cudgel to protect him from theattentions of any single footpad or tramp. 

Striding along in the gathering dusk, he came suddenly upon a curiousscene. A heavy traveling carriage was drawn half across the road, itsforewheels perilously near the ditch. Near by was a lady, standing witharms stiff and hands clenched, stamping her foot as she addressed, in nomeasured terms, two men who were rolling over one another in a desperatetussle a few yards away on the heath. As Desmond drew nearer he perceivedthat a second and younger lady stood at the horses' heads, grasping thebridles firmly with both hands. 

His footsteps were unheard on the heavy road, and the elder lady's backbeing towards him, he came up to her unawares. She started with a littlecry when she saw a stranger move towards her out of the gloom. Butperceiving at a second glance that he was only a boy, with nothingvillainous about his appearance, she turned to him impulsively and, taking him by the sleeve, said:

"There! You see them! The wretches! They are drunk and pay no heed to me!Can you part them? I do not wish to be benighted on this heath. Thewretch uppermost is the coachman. "

"I might part them, perhaps, " said Desmond dubiously. "Of course I willtry, ma'am. "

"Sure I wouldn't trust 'em, mamma, " called the younger lady from thehorses' heads. "The man is too drunk to drive. "

"I fear 'tis so. 'Tis not our own man, sir. As we returned today from avisit to Taplow our coachman was trampled by a horse at Slough, and myhusband stayed with him--an old and trusty servant--till he could consulta surgeon. We found a substitute at the inn to drive us home. But thewretch brought a bottle; he drank with the footman all along the road;and now, as you see, they are at each other's throats in their drunkenfury. Sure we shall never get home in time for the rout we are bid to. "

"Shall I drive you to London, ma'am?" said Desmond, "'Twere best to leavethe men to settle their differences. "

"But can you drive?"

"Oh, yes, " replied Desmond, with a smile. "I am used to horses. "

"Then I beg you to oblige us. Yes, let the wretches fight themselvessober. 

"Phyllis, this gentleman will drive us; come. "

The girl--a fair, rosy cheeked, merry-eyed damsel of fifteen orthereabouts--left the horses' heads and entered the carriage with hermother. Desmond made a rapid examination of the harness to see that allwas right; then he mounted the box and drove off. The noise of therumbling wheels penetrated the besotted intelligence of the strugglingmen; they scrambled to their feet, looked wildly about them, and set offin pursuit. But they had no command of their limbs; they staggeredclumsily this way and that, and finally found their level in the slimyditch that flanked the road. 

Desmond whipped up the horses in the highest spirits. He had hoped for alift in a farmer's cart; fortune had favored him in giving him fourroadsters to drive himself. And no boy, certainly not one of his romanticimpulses, but would feel elated at the idea of helping ladies indistress, and on a spot known far and wide as the scene of perilousadventure. 

The carriage was heavy; the road, though level, was thick with autumnmud; and the horses made no great speed. Desmond, indeed, durst not urgethem too much, for the mist was thickening, making the air even darkerthan the hour warranted; and as the roadway had neither hedge nor wall todefine it, but was bounded on each side by a ditch, it behooved him to gowarily. 

He had just come to a particularly heavy part of the road where thehorses were compelled to walk, when he heard the thud of hoofs somedistance behind him. The sound made him vaguely uneasy. It ceased for amoment or two; then he heard it again, and realized that the horse wascoming at full gallop. Instinctively he whipped up the horses. The ladieshad also heard the sound; and, putting her head out of the window, theelder implored him to drive faster. 

Could the two besotted knaves have put the horseman on his track, hewondered. They must believe that the carriage had been run away with, andin their tipsy rage they would seize any means of overtaking him thatoffered. The horseman might be an inoffensive traveler; on the otherhand, he might not. It was best to leave nothing to chance. With a cheeryword, to give the ladies confidence, he lashed at the horses and forcedthe carriage on at a pace that put its clumsy springs to a severe test. 

Fortunately the road was straight, and the horses instinctively kept tothe middle of the track. But fast as they were now going, Desmond feltthat if the horseman was indeed pursuing he would soon be overtaken. Hemust be prepared for the worst. Gripping the reins hard with his lefthand, he dropped the whip for a moment and felt in the box below the seatin the hope of finding a pistol; but it was empty. 

He whistled under his breath at the discovery: if the pursuer was a"gentleman of the road" his predicament was indeed awkward. The carriagewas rumbling and rattling so noisily that he had long since lost thesound of the horse's hoofs behind. He could not pause to learn if thepursuit had ceased; his only course was to drive on. Surely he would soonreach the edge of the heath; there would be houses; every few yards mustbring him nearer to the possibility of obtaining help. Thus thinking, heclenched his teeth and lashed the reeking flanks of the horses, whichplunged along now at a mad gallop. 

Suddenly, above the noise of their hoofs and the rattling of the coach heheard an angry shout. A scream came from the ladies. Heeding neither, Desmond quickly reversed his whip, holding it halfway down the longhandle, with the heavy iron-tipped stock outward. The horseman camegalloping up on the right side, shouted to Desmond to stop, and withoutwaiting drew level with the box and fired point blank. 

But the rapid movement of his horse and the swaying of the carriageforbade him to take careful aim. Desmond felt the wind of the bullet asit whizzed past him. Next moment he leaned slightly sidewise, and, neverloosening his hold on the reins with his left hand, he brought theweighty butt of his whip with a rapid cut, half sidewise, half downwards, upon the horseman's head. The man with a cry swerved on the saddle;almost before Desmond could recover his balance he was amazed to see thehorse dash suddenly to the right, spring across the ditch, and gallop atfull speed across the heath. 

But he had no time at the moment to speculate on this very easy victory. The horses, alarmed by the pistol shot, were plunging madly, dragging thevehicle perilously near to the ditch on the left hand. Then Desmond'sfamiliarity with animals, gained at so much cost to himself on hisbrother's farm, bore good fruit. He spoke to the horses soothingly, managed them with infinite tact, and coaxed them into submission. Then helet them have their heads, and they galloped on at speed, pausing onlywhen they reached the turnpike going into Brentford. They were then in abath of foam; their flanks heaving like to burst. 

Learning from the turnpike man that he could obtain a change of horses atthe "Bull" inn, Desmond drove there, and was soon upon his way again. 

While the change was being made, he obtained from the lady the address inSoho Square where she was staying. The new horses were fresh; thecarriage rattled through Gunnersbury, past the turnpike at Hammersmithand through Kensington, and soon after nine o'clock Desmond had thesatisfaction of pulling up at the door of Sheriff Soames' mansion in SohoSquare. 

The door was already open, the rattle of wheels having brought lackeyswith lighted torches to welcome the belated travelers. Torches flamed inthe cressets on both sides of the entrance. The hall was filled withservants and members of the household, and in the bustle that ensued whenthe ladies in their brocades and hoops had entered the house, Desmond sawan opportunity of slipping away. He felt that it was perhaps a littleungracious to go without a word to the ladies; but he was tired; he wasunaccustomed to town society, and the service he had been able to renderseemed to him so slight that he was modestly eager to efface himself. Leaving the carriage in the hands of one of the lackeys, with a few wordsof explanation, he hastened on towards Holborn and the city. 

Chapter 7: In which Colonel Clive suffers an unrecorded defeat; andour hero finds food for reflection. 

It was four o'clock, and Tuesday afternoon--the day before the GoodIntent was to sail from the Pool. Desmond was kicking his heels in hisinn, longing for the morrow. Even now he had not seen the vessel on whichhe was to set forth in quest of his fortune. She lay in the Pool, butDiggle had found innumerable reasons why Desmond should not visit heruntil he embarked for good and all. She was loading her cargo; he wouldbe in the way. Captain Barker was in a bad temper; better not see him inhis tantrums. The press gangs were active; they thought nothing ofboarding a vessel and seizing on any active young fellow who looked alikely subject for his Majesty's navy. Such were the reasons alleged. 

And so Desmond had to swallow his impatience and fill in his time as besthe might; reading the newspapers, going to see Mr. Garrick and MistressKitty Clive at Drury Lane, spending an odd evening at Ranelagh Gardens. 

On this Tuesday afternoon he had nothing to do. Diggle was out; Desmondhad read the newspapers and glanced at the last number of the World; hehad written to his mother--the third letter since his arrival in London;he could not settle to anything. He resolved to go for a walk as far asSt. Paul's, perhaps, and take a last look at the busy streets he was notlikely to see again for many a day. 

Forth then he issued. The streets were muddy; a mist was creeping up fromthe river, promising to thicken into a London fog, and the link boys werealready preparing their tow and looking for a rich harvest of coppers erethe night was old. Desmond picked his way through the quagmires of JohnStreet, crossed Crutched Friars, and went up Mark Lane into FenchurchStreet, intending to go by Leadenhall Street and Cornhill into Cheapside. 

He had just reached the lower end of Billiter Street, the narrowthoroughfare leading into Leadenhall, when he saw Diggle's tall figurerunning amain towards him, with another man close behind, apparently inhot pursuit. Diggle caught sight of Desmond at the same moment, and hiseyes gleamed as with relief. He quickened his pace. 

"Hold this fellow behind me, " he panted as he passed, and before Desmondcould put a question he was gone. 

There was no time for deliberation. Desmond had but just perceived thatthe pursuer was in the garb of a gentleman and had a broad patch ofplaster stretched across his left temple, when the moment for actionarrived. Stooping low, he suddenly caught at the man's knees. Down hecame heavily, mouthing hearty abuse, and man and boy were on the groundtogether. 

Desmond was up first. He now saw that a second figure was hurrying onfrom the other end of the street. He was not sure what Diggle demanded ofhim; whether it was sufficient to have tripped up the pursuer, or whetherhe must hold him still in play. But by this time the man was also on hisfeet; his hat was off, his silk breeches and brown coat with lace ruffleswere all bemired. Puffing and blowing, uttering many a round oath such ascame freely to the lips of the Englishman of King George the Second'stime, he shouted to his friend behind to come on, and, disregardingDesmond, made to continue his pursuit. 

Desmond could but grapple with him. 

"Let go, villain!" cried the man, striving to free himself. 

Desmond clung on; there was a brief struggle, but he was no match in sizeor strength for his opponent, who was thick-set and of considerablegirth. He fell backwards, overborne by the man's weight. His head struckon the road; dazed by the blow he loosened his clutch, and lay for amoment in semi-consciousness while the man sprang away. 

But he was not so far gone as not to hear a loud shout behind him andnear at hand, followed by the tramp of feet. 

"Avast there!" The voice was familiar: surely it was Bulger's. "Fairplay! Fourteen stone against seven en't odds. Show a leg, mateys. "

The big sailor with a dozen of his mates stood full in the path of theirate gentleman, who, seeing himself beset, drew his rapier and preparedto fight his way through. A moment later he was joined by his companion, who had also drawn his rapier. Together the gentlemen stood facing thesailors. 

"This is check, Merriman, " said the last comer, as the seamen, flourishing their hangers menacingly, pressed forward past the prostratebody of Desmond. "The fellow has escaped you; best withdraw atdiscretion. "

"Come on, " shouted Bulger, waving his hook. "Bill Bulger en't the man tosheer off from a couple of landlubbers. "

As with his mates in line he steadily advanced, the two gentlemen, theirlips set, their eyes fixed on the assailants, their rapiers pointed, backed slowly up the street. The noise had brought clerks and merchantsto the doors; someone sprang a rattle; there were cries for the watchmen;but no one actively interfered. 

Meanwhile Desmond had regained his senses, and, still feeling somewhatdizzy, had sat down upon a doorstep, wondering not a little at thepursuit and flight of Diggle and the opportune arrival of the sailors. Everything had happened very rapidly; scarcely two minutes had elapsedsince the first onset. 

He was still resting when there was a sudden change in the quality of theshouts up street. Hitherto they had been boisterous rallying cries; nowthey were unmistakably hearty British cheers, expressing nothing butapproval and admiration. And they came not merely from the throats of thesailors, but from the now considerable crowd that filled the street. Afew moments afterwards he saw the throng part, and through it Bulgermarching at the head of his mates, singing lustily. They came opposite tothe step on which he sat, and Bulger caught sight of him. 

"Blest if it en't our supercargo!" he cried, stopping short. 

A shout of laughter broke from the sailors. One of them struck up a song. 

"Oho! we says goodby, But never pipes our eye, Tho' we leaves Sue, Poll, and Kitty all behind us;And if we drops our bonesDown along o' Davy Jones, Why, they'll come and axe the mermaids for to find us. "

"And what took ye, Mister Supercargo, to try a fall with the fourteenstoner?"

"Oh, I was helping a friend. "

"Ay, an' a friend was helpin' him, an' here's a dozen of us a-helpin' ofone supercargo. "

"And I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Bulger. But what were you cheeringfor?"

"Cheerin'! Why, you wouldn't guess. 'Twas General Clive, matey. "

"General Clive!"

"Ay, General Clive, him what chased the mounseers out o' Fort St. Georgewith a marlinspike. I didn't know him at fust, comin' up behind t'otherchap; but when I seed that purple coat with the gold lace and the face ofhim above it I knowed him. In course there was no more fight for us then;'twas hip-hip hurray and up with our hangers. Clive, he smiled andtouched his hat. 'Bulger, ' says he, 'you en't much fatter--'"

"Does he know you, then?"

"Know me! In course he does. Wasn't I bo'sun's mate on board the Indiamanas took him east twelve year ago or more? That was afore I got this herebutton hook o' mine. Ay, I remember him well, a-trampin' up an' down deckwith his hands in his pockets an' his mouth set tight an' his chin on hisstock, never speakin' to a soul, in the doldrums if ever a lad was. Why, we all thought there was no more spirit in him than in the old woodenfigurehead--leastways, all but me. 

"'I may be wrong, ' says I to old Tinsley the bo'sun, 'I may be wrong, 'says I, 'but I be main sure that young sad down-in-the-mouth have got ablazin' fire somewhere in his innards. '

"Ay, and time showed it. There was a lot of cadets aboard as poked fun atthe quiet chap an' talked him over, a-winkin' their eyes. From talkin' itgot to doin'. One day, goin' to his bunk, he found it all topsyversy, hair powder on his pillow, dubbin in his shavin' cup, salt pork wropt upin his dressin' gown. Well, I seed him as he comed on deck, an' his facewere a sight to remember, pale as death, but his eyes a-blazin' like livecoals in the galley fire. Up he steps to the cadet as was ringleader; howhe knowed it I can't tell you, but he was sure of it, same as I alwaysam. 

"'Sir, ' says he, quiet as a lamb, 'I want a word with you. '

"'Dear me!' says the cadet, 'have Mr. Clive found his voice at last?'

"'Yes, sir, ' says Clive, 'he has, an' something else. '

"Cook happened to be passin' with a tray; a lady what was squeamish hadbeen having her vittles on deck. Mr. Clive cotched up a basin o' pea soupwhat was too greasy for madam, and in a twink he sets it upside down onthe cadet's head. Ay, 'twas a pretty pictur', the greasy yellow stuffrunnin' down over his powdered hair an' lace collar an' fine blue coat. My eye! there was a rare old shindy, the cadet cursin' and splutterin', the others laughin' fit to bust 'emselves. The cadet out with his fists, but there, 'twas no manner o' use. Mr. Clive bowled him over like aninepin till he lay along deck all pea soup an' gore. There was no morebaitin' o' Mr. Clive that voyage. 

"'Bo'sun, ' says I, 'what did I tell you? I may be wrong, but that youngMr. Bob Clive'll be a handful for the factors in Fort St. George. '"

While this narrative had been in progress, Desmond was walking withBulger and his mates back towards the river. 

"How was it you happened to be hereabouts so early?" asked Desmond. "Ididn't expect to see you till tomorrow. "

Bulger winked. 

"You wouldn't axe if you wasn't a landlubber, meanin' no offense, " hesaid. "'Tis last night ashore. We sailor men has had enough o' Waterman'sRests an' such like. To tell you the truth, we gave Mr. Toley the slip, and now we be goin' to have a night at the Crown an' Anchor. "

"What about the press gang?"

"We takes our chance. They won't press me, sartin sure, 'cos o' mytenterhook here, and I'll keep my weather eye open, trust me for that. "

Here they parted company. Desmond watched the jolly crew as they turnedinto the Minories, and heard their rollicking chorus:

"Ho! when the cargo's shipped, An the anchor's neatly tripped, An' the gals are weepin' bucketfuls o' sorrer, Why, there's the decks to swab, An' we en't a-goin' to sob, S'pose the sharks do make a meal of us tomorrer. "

At the Goat and Compasses Diggle was awaiting him. 

"Ha! my friend, you did it as prettily as a man could wish. Solitudoaliquid adjuvat, as Tully somewhere hath it, not foreseeing my case, when solitude would have been my undoing. I thank thee. "

"Was the fellow attacking you?" asked Desmond. 

"That to be sure was his intention. I was in truth in the very article ofperil; I was blown; my breath was near gone, when at the critical momentup comes a gallant youth--subvenisti homini jam perdito--and withdexterous hand stays the enemy in his course. "

"But what was it all about? Do you know the man?"

"Ods my life! 'twas a complete stranger, a man, I should guess, of hastypassions and tetchy temper. By the merest accident, at a somewhat crowdedpart, I unluckily elbowed the man into the kennel, and though Iapologized in the handsomest way, he must take offense and seek to cutoff my life, to extinguish me in primo aevo, as Naso would say. ButAtropos was forestalled, my thread of life still falls uncut fromClotho's shuttle; still, still, my boy, I bear on the torch of lifeunextinguished. "

Desmond felt that all this fine phrasing, this copious draft fromclassical sources, was intended to quench the ardor of his curiosity. Diggle's explanation was very lame; the fury depicted on the pursuer'sface could scarcely be due to a mere accidental jostling in the street. And Diggle was certainly not the man to take to his heels on slightoccasion. But, after all, Diggle's quarrels were his own concern. Thathis past life included secrets Desmond had long suspected, but he was notthe first man of birth and education who had fallen into misfortune, andat all events he had always treated Desmond with kindness. So the boy putthe matter from his thoughts. 

The incident, however, left a sting of vexation behind it. In agreeing toaccompany Diggle to the East, Desmond had harbored a vague hope offalling in with Clive and taking service, in however humble a capacity, with him. It vexed him sorely to think that Clive, whose memory forfaces, as his recognition of Bulger after twelve years had shown, wasvery good, might recognize him, should they meet, as the boy who hadplayed a part in what was almost a street brawl. Still, it could not behelped. Desmond comforted himself with the hope that Clive had taken noparticular note of him, and, if they should ever encounter, wouldprobably meet him as a stranger. 

Chapter 8: In which several weeks are supposed to elapse; and our hero isdiscovered in the Doldrums. 

The Good Intent lay becalmed in the doldrums. There was not wind enoughto puff out a candle flame. The sails hung limp and idle from the masts, yet the vessel rolled as in a storm, heaving on a tremendous swell soviolently that it would seem her masts must be shaken out of her. The airwas sweltering, the sky the color of burnished copper, out of which thesun beat remorselessly in almost perpendicular beams. Pitch ran fromevery seam of the decks, great blisters like bubbles rose upon thewoodwork; the decks were no sooner swabbed than--presto!--it was asthough they had not known the touch of water for an age. 

For three weeks she had lain thus. Sometimes the hot day would besucceeded by a night of terrible storm, thunder crashing around, thewhole vault above lacerated by lightning, and rain pouring as it were outof the fissures in sheets. But in a day all traces of the storm woulddisappear, and if, meanwhile, a sudden breath of wind had carried thevessel a few knots on her southward course, the hopes thus raised wouldprove illusory, and once more she would lie on a sea of molten lead, or, still worse, would be rocked on a long swell that had all the discomfortsof a gale without its compensating excitement. 

The tempers of officers and crew had gone from bad to worse. The officerssnapped and snarled at one another, and treated the men with even morethan the customary brutality of the merchant marine of those days. Thecrew, lounging about half naked on the decks, seeking what shelter theycould get from the pitiless sun, with little to do and no spirit to doanything, quarreled among themselves, growling at the unnecessary tasksset them merely to keep them from flying at each other's throats. 

The Good Intent was a fine three-masted vessel of nearly four hundredtons, large for those days, though the new East Indiamen approached fivehundred tons. When her keel was laid for the Honorable East India Companysome twenty years earlier, she had been looked on as one of the finestmerchant vessels afloat; but the buffeting of wind and wave in a score ofvoyages to the eastern seas, and the more insidious and equallydestructive attacks of worms and dry rot, had told upon her timbers. Shehad been sold off and purchased by Captain Barker, who was one of theclass known as "interlopers, " men who made trading voyages to the EastIndies on their own account, running the risk of their vessels beingseized and themselves penalized for infringing the Company's monopoly. She was now filled with a miscellaneous cargo: wine in chests, beer andcider in bottles, hats, worsted stockings, wigs, small shot, lead, iron, knives, glass, hubblebubbles, cochineal, sword blades, toys, coarsecloth, woolen goods--anything that would find a market among the Europeanmerchants, the native princes, or the trading classes of India. There wasalso a large consignment of muskets and ammunition. When Desmond askedthe second mate where they were going, the reply was that if he asked noquestions he would be told no lies. 

On this sultry afternoon a group of seamen, clad in nothing but shirt andbreeches, were lolling, lying crouching on the deck forward, circledaround Bulger. Seated on an upturned tub, he was busily engaged inbaiting a hook. Tired of the "Irish horse" and salt pork that formed thestaple of the sailors' food, he was taking advantage of the calm to fishfor bonitos, a large fish over two feet long, the deadly enemy of thebeautiful flying fish that every now and then fell panting upon the deckin their mad flight from marine foes. The bait was made to resemble theflying fish itself, the hook being hidden by white rag stuffing, withfeathers pricked in to counterfeit spiked fins. 

As the big seaman deftly worked with iron hook and right hand, he spunyarns for the delectation of his mates. They chewed tobacco, listened, laughed, sneered, as their temper inclined them. Only one of the groupgave him rapt and undivided attention--a slim youth, with hollow sunburntcheeks, long bleached hair, and large gleaming eyes. His neck and armswere bare, and the color of boiled lobsters; but, unlike the rest, he hadno tattoo marks pricked into his skin. His breeches were tatters, hisstriped shirt covered with party-colored darns. 

"Ay, as I was saying, " said Bulger, "'twas in these latitudes, on my lastvoyage but three. I was in a Bristol ship a-carryin' of slaves fromGuinea to the plantations. Storms!--I never seed such storms nowhere; andcontrariwise, calms enough to make a Quaker sick. In course the water wasshort, an' scurvy come aboard, an' 'twas a hammock an' round shot for oneor the other of us every livin' day. As reg'lar as the mornin' watch thesharks came for their breakfast; we could see 'em comin' from all p'intso' the compass; an' sure as seven bells struck there they was, ten deep, with jaws wide open, like Parmiter's there when there's a go of grog tobe sarved out. We was all like the livin' skellington at Bartlemy Fair, and our teeth droppin' out that fast, they pattered like hailstones onthe deck. "

"How did you stick 'em in again?" interrupted Parmiter, anxious to geteven with Bulger for the allusion to his gaping jaw. He was a thick set, ugly fellow, his face seamed with scars, his mouth twisted, his earsdragged at the lobes by heavy brass rings. 

"With glue made out of albacores we caught, to be sure. Well, as I wassaying, we was so weak there wasn't a man aboard could reach the maintop, an' the man at the wheel had two men to hold him up. Things was so, thus, an' in such case, when, about eight hells one arternoon, the lookout atthe masthead--"

"Thought you couldn't climb? How'd he get there?" said the same skeptic. 

"Give me time, Parmiter, and you'll know all about the hows an' whys, notwithstandin's and sobeits. He'd been there for a week, for why? 'coshe couldn't get down. We passed him up a quarter pint o' water and abiscuit or two every day by a halyard. 

"Well, as I was sayin', all at once the lookout calls out, 'Landho!'--leastways he croaked it, 'cos what with weakness and little waterour throats was as dry as last year's biscuit. 

"'Where away?' croaks first mate, which I remember his name was Tonking. 

"And there, sure enough, we seed a small island, which it might be aquarter-mile long. Now, mind you, we hadn't made a knot for three weeks. How did that island come there so sudden like? In course, it must ha'come up from the bottom o' the sea. And as we was a-lookin' at it we sawit grow, mateys--long spits o' land shootin' out this side, that side, and t'other side--and the whole concarn begins to move towards us, comin'on, hand over hand, slow, dead slow, but sure and steady. Our jaws werejust a-droppin' arter our teeth when fust mate busts out in a laugh; bythunder, I remember that there laugh today! 'twas like--well, I don'tknow what 'twas like, if not the scrapin' of a handsaw; an' says he, 'ByNeptune, 'tis a darned monstrous squid!'

"And, sure enough, that was what it was, a squid as big round as the Isleo' Wight, with arms that ud reach from Wapping Stairs to Bugsby Marshes, and just that curly shape. An' what was more, 'twas steerin' straight forus. Ay, mateys, 'twas a horrible moment!"

The seamen, even Parmiter the scoffer, were listening open mouthed, whena hoarse voice broke the spell, cutting short Bulger's story anddispersing the group. 

"Here you, Burke, you, up aloft and pay the topmost with grease. I'llhave no lazy lubbers aboard my ship, I tell you. I've got no use fornobody too good for his berth. No Jimmy Duffs for me! Show a leg, or, byheavens, I'll show you a rope's end and make my mark--mind that, my lad!"

Captain Barker turned to the man at his side. 

"'Twas an ill turn you did me and the ship's company, Mr. Diggle, bringing this useless lubber aboard. "

"It does appear so, captain, " said Diggle sorrowfully. "But 'tis hisfirst voyage, sir: discipline--a little discipline!"

Meanwhile Desmond, without a word, had moved away to obey orders. He hadlong since found the uselessness of protest. Diggle had taken him onboard the Good Intent an hour before sailing. He left him to himselfuntil the vessel was well out in the mouth of the Thames, and then camewith a rueful countenance and explained that, after all his endeavors, the owners had absolutely refused to accept so youthful a fellow assupercargo. Desmond felt his cheeks go pale. 

"What am I to be, then?" he asked quietly. 

"Well, my dear boy, Captain Barker is rather short of apprentices, and hehas no objection to taking you in place of one if you will make yourselfuseful. He is a first-rate seaman. You will imbibe a vast deal of usefulknowledge and gain a free passage, and when we reach the Indies I shallbe able, I doubt not, by means of my connections, to assist you in thefirst steps of what, I trust, will prove a successful career. "

"Then, who is supercargo?"

"Unluckily that greatness has been thrust upon me. Unluckily, I say; forthe office is not one that befits a former fellow of King's College atCambridge. Yet there is an element of good luck in it, too; for, as youknow, my fortunes were at a desperately low ebb, and the emoluments ofthis office, while not great, will stand me in good stead when we reachour destination, and enable me to set you, my dear boy--to borrow fromthe vernacular--on your legs. "

"You have deceived me, then!"

"Nay, nay, you do bear me hard, young man. To be disappointed is not thesame thing as to be deceived. True, you are not, as I hoped, supercargo, but the conditions are not otherwise altered. You wished to go toIndia--well, Zephyr's jocund breezes, as Catullus hath it, will waft youthither: we are flying to the bright cities of the East. No fragile barkis this, carving a dubious course through the main, as Seneca, I think, puts it. No, 'tis an excellent vessel, with an excellent captain, whowill steer a certain course, who fears not the African blast nor thegrisly Hyades nor the fury of Notus--"

Desmond did not await the end of Diggle's peroration. It was then toolate to repine. The vessel was already rounding the Foreland, and thoughhe was more than half convinced that he had been decoyed on board onfalse pretenses, he could not divine any motive on Diggle's part, andhoped that his voyage would be not much less pleasant than he hadanticipated. 

But even before the Good Intent made the Channel he was woefullyundeceived. His first interview with the captain opened his eyes. CaptainBarker was a small, thin, sandy man, with a large upper lip that met thelower in a straight line, a lean nose, and eyes perpetually bloodshot. His manner was that of a bully of the most brutal kind. He browbeat hisofficers, cuffed and kicked his men, in his best days a martinet, in hisworst a madman. The only good point about him was that he never used thecat, which, as Bulger said, was a mercy. 

"Humph!" he said when Desmond was presented to him. "You're him, are you?Well, let me tell you this, my lad: the ship's boy on board this 'ereship have got to do what he's bid, and no mistake about it. If he don't, I'll make him. Now, you go for'ard into the galley and scrape the slushoff the cook's pans; quick's the word. "

From that day Desmond led a dog's life. He found that as ship's boy hewas at the beck and call of the whole company. The officers, with theexception of Mr. Toley, the melancholy first mate, took their cue fromthe captain; and Mr. Toley, as a matter of policy, never took his partopenly. The men resented his superior manners and the fact that he wassocially above them. The majority of the seamen were even more ruffianlythan the specimens he had seen at the Waterman's Rest--the scum ofWapping and Rotherhithe. His only real friend on board was Bulger, whohelped him to master the many details of a sailor's work, and oftenprotected him against the ill treatment of his mates; and, in spite ofhis one arm, Bulger was a power to be reckoned with. 

At the best of times the life of a sailor was hard, and Desmond found itat first almost intolerable. Irregular sleep on an uncomfortable hammock, wedged in with the other members of the crew, bad food, and over exertiontold upon his frame. From the moment when all hands were piped to lashhammocks to the moment when the signal was given for turning in, it wasone long round of thankless drudgery. But he proved himself to be veryquick and nimble. Before long, no one could lash his hammock with theseven turns in a shorter time than he. After learning the work on themainsails and trysails he was sent to practise the more acrobatic dutiesin the tops, and when two months had passed, no one excelled him inquickness aloft. 

If his work had been confined to the ordinary seaman's duties he wouldhave been fairly content, for there is always a certain pleasure inaccomplishment, and the consciousness of growing skill and power was somecompensation for the hardships he had to undergo. But he had to do dirtywork for the cook, clean out the styes of the captain's pigs, swab thelower deck, sometimes descend on errands for one or other to the nauseoushold. 

Perhaps the badness of the food was the worst evil to a boy accustomed toplain but good country fare. The burgoo or oatmeal gruel served atbreakfast made him sick; he knew how it had been made in the cook's dirtypans. The "Irish horse" and salt pork for dinner soon became distasteful;it was not in the best condition when brought aboard, and before long itbecame putrid. The strong cheese for supper was even more horrible. Helived for the most part on the tough sea biscuit of mixed wheat and peaflour, and on the occasional duffs of flour boiled with fat, which didduty as pudding. For drink he had nothing but small beer; the water inthe wooden casks was full of green, grassy, slimy things. But the freshsea air seemed to be a food itself; and though Desmond became lean andhollow cheeked, his muscles developed and hardened. Little deservingCaptain Barker's ill-tempered abuse, he became handy in many ways onboard, and proved to be the possessor of a remarkably keen pair of eyes. 

When, in obedience to the captain's orders, he was greasing the mast, hisattention was caught by three or four specks on the horizon. 

"Sail ho!" he called to the officer of the watch. 

"Where away?" was the reply. 

"On the larboard quarter, sir; three or four sail, I think. "

The officer at once mounted the shrouds and took a long look at thespecks Desmond pointed out, while the crew below crowded to the bulwarksand eagerly strained their eyes in the same direction. 

"What do you make of 'em, Mr. Sunman?" asked the captain. 

"Three or four sail, sir, sure enough. They are hull down; there's not adoubt but they're bringing the wind with 'em. "

"Hurray!" shouted the men, overjoyed at the prospect of moving at last. 

In a couple of hours the strangers had become distinctly visible, and thefirst faint puffs of the approaching breeze caused the sails to flaplazily against the yards. Then the canvas filled out, and at last, afternearly a fortnight's delay, the Good Intent began to slip through thewater at three or four knots. 

The wind freshened during the night, and next morning the Good Intent wasbowling along under single-reefed topsails. The ships sighted the nightbefore had disappeared, to the evident relief of Captain Barker. Whetherthey were Company's vessels or privateers he had no wish to come to closequarters with them. 

After breakfast, when the watch on deck were busy about the rigging orthe guns, or the hundred and one details of a sailor's work, the rest ofthe crew had the interval till dinner pretty much to themselves. Someslept, some reeled out yarns to their messmates, others mended theirclothes. 

It happened one day that Desmond, sitting in the forecastle among the menof his mess, was occupied in darning a pair of breeches for Parmiter. Itwas the one thing he could not do satisfactorily; and one of the men, after quizzically observing his well meant but ludicrous attempts, atlast caught up the garment and held it aloft, calling his mates'attention to it with a shout of laughter. 

Parmiter chanced to be coming along at the moment. Hearing the laugh, andseeing the pitiable object of it, he flew into a rage, sprang at Desmond, and knocked him down. 

"What do you mean, you clumsy young lubber, you, " he cried, "by treatingmy smalls like that? I'll brain you, sure as my name's Parmiter!"

Desmond had already suffered not a little at Parmiter's hands. Hisendurance was at an end. Springing up with flaming cheeks he leapedtowards the bully, and putting in practice the methods he had learned inmany a hard-fought mill at Mr. Burslem's school, he began to punish theoffender. His muscles were in good condition; Parmiter was too muchaddicted to grog to make a steady pugilist; and though he was naturallymuch the stronger man, he was totally unable to cope with his agileantagonist. 

A few rounds settled the matter; Parmiter had to confess that he had hadenough, and Desmond, flinging his breeches to him, sat down tinglingamong his mates, who greeted the close of the fight with spontaneous andunrestrained applause. 

Next day Parmiter was in the foretop splicing the forestay. Desmond waswalking along the deck when suddenly he felt his arm clutched frombehind, and he was pulled aside so violently by Bulger's hook that hestumbled and fell at full length. At the same moment something struck thedeck with a heavy thud. 

"By thunder! 'twas a narrow shave, " said Bulger. "See that, matey?"

Looking in the direction Bulger pointed, he saw that the foretopsailsheet block had fallen on deck, within an inch of where he would havebeen but for the intervention of Bulger's hook. Glancing aloft, he sawParmiter grinning down at him. 

"Hitch that block to a halyard, youngster, " said the man. 

Desmond was on the point of refusing; the man, he thought, might at leasthave apologized: but reflecting that a refusal would entail a complaintto the captain, and a subsequent flogging, he bit his lips, fastened theblock, and went on his way. 

"'Tis my belief 'twas no accident, " said Bulger afterwards. "I may bewrong, but Parmiter bears a grudge against you. And he and that there Mr. Diggle is too thick by half. I never could make out why Diggle diddledyou about that supercargo business; he don't mean you no kindness, youmay be sure; and when you see two villains like him and Parmiter puttin'their heads together, look out for squalls, that's what I say. "

Desmond was inclined to laugh; the idea seemed preposterous. 

"Why are you so suspicious of Mr. Diggle?" he said. "He has not kept hispromise, that's true, and I am sorry enough I ever listened to him. Butthat doesn't prove him to be an out-and-out villain. I've noticed thatyou keep out of his way. Do you know anything of him? Speak out plainly, man. "

"Well, I'll tell you what I knows about him. "

He settled himself against the mast, gave a final polish to his hook withholystone, and using the hook every now and then to punctuate hisnarrative, began. 

"Let me see, 'twas a matter o' three years ago. I was bo'sun on theSwallow, a spanker she was, chartered by the Company, London to Calcutta. There was none of the doldrums that trip, dodged 'em fair an' square; atopsail breeze to the Cape, and then the fust of the monsoon to theHugli. We lay maybe a couple of months at Calcutta, when what should I dobut take aboard a full dose of the cramp, just as the Swallow was in amanner of speakin' on the wing. Not but what it sarved me right, for whatbusiness had I at my time of life to be wastin' shore leave by poppin' atlittle dicky birds in the dirty slimy jheels, as they call 'em, roundabout Calcutta!

"Well, I was put ashore, as was on'y natural, and 'twas a marvel I pulledthrough--for it en't many as take the cramp in Bengal and live to tellit. The Company, I'll say that for 'em, was very kind; I had the best o'nussin' and vittles; but when I found my legs again there I was, as onemight say, high and dry, for there was no Company's ship ready to sail. So I got leave to sign on a country ship, bound for Canton; and wedropped down the Hugli with enough opium on board to buy up the lordmayor and a baker's dozen of aldermen. 

"Nearly half a mile astern was three small country ships, such as mightcreep round the coast to Chittagong, dodgin' the pirates o' theSandarbands if they was lucky, and gettin' their weazands slit if theywasn't. They drew less water than us, and was generally handier in theriver, which is uncommon full of shoals and sandbanks; but for all that Iremember they was still maybe half a mile astern when we droppedanchor--anchors, I should say--for the night, some way below DiamondHarbor. But to us white men the way o' these Moors is always a bag o'mystery, and as seamen they en't anyway of much account. Well, it mightbe about seven bells, and my watch below, when I was woke by a mosttremenjous bangin' and hullabaloo. We tumbles up mighty sharp, and wellwe did, for there was one of these country fellows board and board withus, and another foulin' our hawser. Their grapnels came whizzin' aboard;but the first lot couldn't take a hold nohow, and she dropped downstream. That gave us a chance to be ready for the other. She got a grip of us andheld on like a shark what grabs you by the legs. But pistols and pikeshad been sarved out, and when they came bundlin' over into the foc'sle, we bundled 'em back into the Hugli, and you may be sure they wasn'texactly seaworthy when they got there. They was a mixed lot; that we soonfound out by their manner o' swearin' as they slipped by the board, foralthough there was Moors among 'em, most of 'em was Frenchies orDutchmen, and considerin' they wasn't Englishmen they made a good fightof it. But over they went, until only a few was left; and we was justabout to finish 'em off, when another country ship dropped alongside, andbefore we knew where we was a score of yellin' ruffians was into thewaist and rushin' us in the stern sheets, as you might say. We had tofight then, by thunder! we did. 

"The odds was against us now, and we was catchin' it from two sides. Butour blood was up, and we knew what to expect if they beat us. 'Twas theHugli for every man Jack of us, and no mistake. There was no orders, every man for himself, with just enough room and no more to see themounseers in front of him. Some of us--I was one of 'em--fixed the flintsof the pirates for'ard, while the rest faced round and kept the othersoff. Then we went at 'em, and as they couldn't all get at us at the sametime, owing to the deck being narrow, the odds was not so bad arter all. 'Twas now hand to hand, fist to fist, one for you and one for me; youfound a Frenchman and stuck to him till you finished him off, or hefinished you, as the case might be, in a manner of speakin'. Well, Ifound one lanky chap--he was number four that night--and all in tenminutes, as it were, I jabbed a pike at him, and missed, for it was hardto keep footin' on the wet deck, though the wet was not Hugli water;thick as it is, this was thicker--and he fired a pistol at me by way ofthank you. I saw his figurehead in the flash, and I shan't forget iteither, for he left me this to remember him by, though I didn't know itat the time. "

Here Bulger held up the iron hook that did duty for his left forearm. Then glancing cautiously around, he added in a whisper:

"'Twas Diggle--or I'm a Dutchman. That was my fust meetin' with him. Ofcourse, I'm in a way helpless now, being on the ship's books, and he in amanner of speakin' an orficer; but one of these days there'll be areckonin', or my name en't Bulger. "

The boatswain brought down his fist with a resounding whack on thescuttle butt, threatening to stave in the top of the barrel. 

"And how did the fight end?" asked Desmond. 

"We drove 'em back bit by bit, and fairly wore 'em down. They weren't allsailormen, or we couldn't have done it, for they had the numbers; but anEnglishman on his own ship is worth any two furriners--aye, half a dozensome do say, though I wouldn't go so far as that myself--and at the lastsome of them turned tail and bolted back. The ship's boy, what was in theshrouds, saw 'em on the run and set up a screech: 'Hooray! hooray!' Thatwas all we wanted. We hoorayed too; and went at 'em in such a slap-banggo-to-glory way that in a brace of shakes there wasn't a Frenchman, aDutchman, nor a Moor on board. They cut the grapnels and floated clear, and next mornin' we saw 'em on their beam ends on a sandbank a mile downthe river. That's how I fust come across Mr. Diggle; I may be wrong, butI says it again: look out for squalls. "

For some days the wind held fair, and the ship being now in the maintrack of the trades, all promised well for a quick run to the Cape. Butsuddenly there was a change; a squall struck the vessel from thesouthwest. Captain Barker, catching sight of Desmond and a seaman near athand, shouted:

"Furl the top-gallant sail, you two. Now show a leg, or, by thunder, themasts will go by the board. "

Springing up the shrouds on the weather side, Desmond was quickest aloft. He crawled out on the yard, the wind threatening every moment to tear himfrom his dizzy, rocking perch, and began with desperate energy to furlthe straining canvas. It was hard work, and but for the development ofhis muscles during the past few months, and a naturally cool head, thetask would have been beyond his powers. But setting his teeth andexerting his utmost strength, he accomplished his share of it as quicklyas the able seaman on the lee yard. 

The sail was half furled when all at once the mast swung through a hugearc; the canvas came with tremendous force against the cross trees, andDesmond, flung violently outwards, found himself swinging in midair, clinging desperately to the leech of the sail. With a convulsive movementhe grasped at a loose gasket above him, and catching a grip, wound ittwice or thrice round his arm. The strain was intense; the gasket wasthin and cut deeply into the flesh; he knew that should it give waynothing could save him. So he hung, the wind howling around him, theyards rattling, the boisterous sea below heaving as if to clutch him anddrag him to destruction. 

A few seconds passed, every one of which seemed an eternity. Then throughthe noise he heard shouts on deck. The vessel suddenly swung over, andDesmond's body inclined towards instead of from the mast. Shooting outhis arm he caught at the yard, seized it, and held on, though it seemedthat his arm must be wrenched from the socket. In a few moments hesucceeded in clambering on to the yard, where he clung, endeavoring toregain his breath and his senses. 

Then he completed his job, and with a sense of unutterable relief sliddown to the deck. A strange sight met his eyes. Bulger and Parmiter werelying side by side; there was blood on the deck; and Captain Barker stoodover them with a marlinspike, his eyes blazing, his face distorted withpassion. In consternation Desmond slipped out of the way, and asked thefirst man he met for an explanation. 

It appeared that Parmiter, who was at the wheel when the squall struckthe ship, had put her in stays before the sail was furled, with theresult that she heeled over and Desmond had narrowly escaped being flunginto the sea. Seeing the boy's plight, Bulger had sprung forward, and, knocking Parmiter from the wheel, had put the vessel on the other tack, thus giving Desmond the one chance of escape which, fortunately, he hadbeen able to seize. The captain had been incensed to a blind fury, firstwith Parmiter for acting without orders and then with Bulger forinterfering with the man at the wheel. In a paroxysm of madness heattacked both men with a spike; the ship was left without a helmsman, andnothing but the promptitude of the melancholy mate, who had rushedforward and taken the abandoned wheel himself, had saved the vessel fromthe imminent risk of carrying away her masts. 

Later in the day, when the squall and the captain's rage had subsided, the incident was talked over by a knot of seamen in the forecastle. 

"You may say what you like, " said one, "but I hold to it that Parmitermeant to knock young Burke into the sea. For why else did he put the shipin stays? He en't a fool, en't Parmiter. "

"Ay, " said another, "and arter that there business with the block, eh?One and one make two; that's twice the youngster has nigh gone to DavyJones through Parmiter, and it en't in reason that sich-like thingsshould allers happen to the same party. "

"But what's the reason?" asked a third. "What call has Parmiter to havesuch a desperate spite against Burke? He got a lickin', in course, butwhat's a lickin' to a Englishman? Rot it all, the youngster en't a badmatey. He've led a dog's life, that he have, and I've never heard agrumble, nary one; have you?"

"True, " said the first. "And I tell you what it is. I believe Bulger's inthe right of it, and 'tis all along o' that there Diggle, hang him! He'stoo perlite by half, with his smile and his fine lingo and all. Andwhat's he keep his hand wropt up in that there velvet mitten thing for?I'd like to know that. There's summat mortal queer about Diggle, mark mywords, and we'll find it out if we live long enough. "

"Wasn't it Diggle brought Burke aboard?"

"Course it was; that's what proves it, don't you see? He stuffs him up ashe's to be supercargo; call that number one. He brings him aboard andmakes him ship boy; that's number two. He looks us all up and down withthose rat's eyes of his, and thinks we're a pretty ugly lot, and Parmiterthe ugliest, how's that for number three? Then he makes hissel sweet toParmiter; I've seed him more'n once; that's number four. Then there'sthat there block: five; and today's hanky panky: six; and it wants onemore to make seven, and that's the perfect number, I've heard tell, 'coso' the Seven Champions o' Christendom. "

"I guess you've reasoned that out mighty well, " drawled the melancholyvoice of Mr. Toley, who had come up unseen and heard the last speech. "Well, I'll give you number seven. "

"Thunder and blazes, sir, he en't bin and gone and done it already?"

"No, he en't. Number seven is, be kind o' tender with young Burke. Countthem words. He's had enough kicks. That's all. "

And the melancholy man went away as silently as he had come. 

Chapter 9: In which the Good Intent makes a running fight:Mr. Toley makes a suggestion. 

Making good sailing, the Good Intent reached Saldanhas Bay, where she putin for a few necessary repairs, then safely rounded the Cape, and after ashort stay at Johanna, one of the Comoro Islands, taking in freshprovisions there, set sail for the Malabar coast. The wind blew steadilyfrom the southwest, and she ran merrily before it. 

During this part of the voyage Desmond found his position somewhatimproved. His pluck had won the rough admiration of the men; CaptainBarker was not so constantly chevying him; and Mr. Toley showed a moreactive interest in him, teaching him the use of the sextant and quadrant, how to take the altitude of the sun, and many other matters important innavigation. 

It was the third week of April, and the monsoon having begun, CaptainBarker expected before long to sight the Indian coast. One morning, abouttwo bells, the lookout reported a small vessel on the larboard bow, laboring heavily. The captain took a long look at it through hisperspective glass, and made out that it was a two-masted grab; themainmast was gone. 

"Odds bobs, " he said to Mr. Toley, "'tis strange to meet a grab so farout at sea. We'll run down to it. "

"What is a grab?" asked Desmond of Bulger, when the news had circulatedthrough the ship's company. 

"Why, that's a grab, sure enough. I en't a good hand at pictur' paintin';we're runnin' square for the critter, and then you'll see for yourself. This I'll say, that you don't see 'em anywheres in partickler but off theMalabar coast. "

Desmond was soon able to take stock of the vessel. It was broad inproportion to its length, narrowing from the middle to the end, andhaving a projecting prow like the old-fashioned galleys of which he hadseen pictures. The prow was covered with a deck, level with the main deckof the vessel, but with a bulkhead between this and the forecastle. 

"En't she pitchin'!" remarked Bulger, standing by Desmond's side. "Youcouldn't expect nothing else of a craft built that shape. Look at thewater pourin' off her; why, I may be wrong, but I'll lay my best breechesshe's a-founderin'. "

As usual, Bulger was right. When the grab was overhauled, the men onboard, dark-skinned Marathas with very scanty clothing, made signs thatthey were in distress. 

"Throw her into the wind, " shouted the captain. 

Mr. Toley at the wheel put the helm down, the longboat was lowered, andwith some difficulty, owing to the heavy sea, the thirty men on the grabwere taken off. As they came aboard the Good Intent, Diggle, who wasleaning over the bulwarks, suddenly straightened himself, smiled, andmoved towards the taffrail. One of the newcomers, a fine muscular fellow, seeing Diggle approaching, stood for a moment in surprise, then salaamed. The Englishman said something in the stranger's tongue, and grasped hishand with the familiarity of old friendship. 

"You know the man, Mr. Diggle?" said the captain. 

"Yes, truly. The Gentoos and I are in a sense comrades in arms. His nameis Hybati; he's a Maratha. "

"What's he jabbering about?"

The man was talking rapidly and earnestly. 

"He says, captain, " returned Diggle, with a smile, "that he hopes youwill send and fetch the crew's rice on board. They won't eat ourfood--afraid of losing caste. "

"I'll be hang if I launch the longboat again. The grab won't live anotherfive minutes in this sea, and I wouldn't risk two of my crew against ahundred of these dirty Moors. "

"They'll starve otherwise, captain. "

"Well, let 'em starve. I won't have any nonsense aboard my ship. Beggarsmustn't be choosers, and if the heathen can't eat good honest Englishvittles they don't deserve to eat at all. "

Diggle smiled and explained to Hybati that his provisions must be left totheir fate. Even as he spoke a heavy sea struck the vessel athwart, and, amid cries from the Marathas she keeled over and sank. 

When the strangers had dried themselves, Diggle inquired of Hybati how hecame to be in his present predicament. The Maratha explained that he hadbeen in command of Angria's fortress of Suwarndrug, which was so strongthat he had believed it able to withstand any attacks. But one day anumber of vessels of the East India Company's fleet had appeared betweenthe mainland and the island on which the fortress was situated, and hadbegun a bombardment which soon reduced the parapets to ruins. The chiefdamage had been done by an English ship. Hybati and his men had made thebest defense they could, but the gunners were shot down by musket firefrom the round tops of the enemy, and when a shell set fire to a thatchedhouse within the fort, the garrison were too much alarmed to attempt toextinguish the flames; the blaze spread, a powder magazine blew up, andthe inhabitants, with the greater part of the soldiers, fled to theshore, and tried to make their escape in eight large boats. Hybati hadkept up the fight for some time longer, hoping to receive succor; butunder cover of the fire of the ships the English commodore landed halfhis seamen, who rushed up to the gate, and cutting down the sally portwith their axes forced their way in. 

Seeing that the game was up, Hybati fled with thirty of his men, and waslucky in pushing off in the grab, unobserved by the enemy. The winds, however, proving contrary, the vessel had been blown northward along thecoast and then driven far out to sea. With the breaking of the monsoon aviolent squall had dismasted the grab and shattered her bulkhead; she wascontinually shipping water, and, as the sahib saw, was at the point ofsinking when the English ship came up. 

Such was the Maratha's story, as by and by it became common property onboard the Good Intent. Of all the crew Desmond was perhaps the mostinterested. To the others there was nothing novel in the sight of theIndians; but to him they stood for romance, the embodiment of all thetales he had heard and all the dreams he had dreamed of this wonderfulcountry in the East. He was now assured that he was actually within reachof his desired haven; and he hoped shortly to see an end of thedisappointments and hardships, the toils and distresses, of the pastseven months. 

He was eager to learn more of these Marathas, and their fortress, and thecircumstances of the recent fight. Bulger was willing to tell all heknew; but his information was not very exact, and Desmond did not hearthe full story till long after. 

The Malabar coast had long been the haunt of Maratha pirates, whointerfered greatly with the native trade between India and Arabia andPersia. In defense of the interests of his Mohammedan subjects the Mogulemperor at length, in the early part of the eighteenth century, fittedout a fleet, under the command of an admiral known as the Sidi. But therehappened to be among the Marathas at that time a warrior of great daringand resource, one Kunaji Angria. This man first defeated the Sidi, then, in the insolence of victory, revolted against his own sovereign, and setup as an independent ruler. 

By means of a well-equipped fleet of grabs and gallivats he made himselfmaster of place after place along the coast, including the Marathafortress at Suwarndrug and the Portuguese fort of Gheria. His successors, who adopted in turn the dynastic name of Angria, followed up Kunaji'sconquest, until by the year 1750 the ruling Angria was in possession of astrip of territory on the mainland a hundred and eighty miles long andabout forty broad, together with many small adjacent islands. 

For the defense of this little piratical state Angria's Marathasconstructed a number of forts, choosing admirable positions anddisplaying no small measure of engineering skill. From these strongholdsthey made depredations by sea and land, not only upon their nativeneighbors, but also upon the European traders, English, Dutch, andPortuguese; swooping down on unprotected merchant vessels and evenpresuming to attack warships. Several expeditions had been directedagainst them, but always in vain; and when in 1754 the chief of thatdate, Tulaji Angria, known to Europeans as the Pirate, burnt two largeDutch vessels of fifty and thirty-six guns respectively, and captured asmaller one of eighteen guns, he boasted in his elation that he wouldsoon be master of the Indian seas. 

But a term was about to be put to his insolence and his depredations. OnMarch twenty-second, 1755, Commodore William James, commander of the EastIndia Company's marine force, set sail from Bombay in the Protector offorty-four guns, with the Swallow of sixteen guns, and two bomb vessels. With the assistance of a Maratha fleet he had attacked the islandfortress of Suwarndrug, and captured it, as Hybati had related. A fewdays afterwards another of the Pirate's fortresses, the island ofBancoote, six miles north of Suwarndrug, surrendered. The Maratha rajah, Ramaji Punt, delighted with these successes against fortified placeswhich had for nearly fifty years been deemed impregnable, offered theEnglish commodore an immense sum of money to proceed against others ofAngria's forts; but the monsoon approaching, the commodore was recalledto Bombay. 

The spot at which the Good Intent had fallen in with the sinking grab wasabout eighty miles from the Indian coast, and Captain Barker expected tosight land next day. No one was more delighted at the prospect thanDesmond. Leaving out of account the miseries of the long voyage, he feltthat now he was within reach of the goal of his hopes. The future was alluncertain; he was no longer inclined to trust his fortunes to Diggle, forthough he could not believe that the man had deliberately practisedagainst his life, he had with good reason lost confidence in him, andwhat he had learned from Bulger threw a new light on his past career. 

One thing puzzled him. If the Pirate was such a terror to unprotectedships, and strong enough to attack several armed vessels at once, why wasCaptain Barker running into the very jaws of the enemy? In her palmy daysas an East Indiaman the Good Intent had carried a dozen nine-pounders onher upper deck and six on the quarterdeck; and Bulger had said that undera stout captain she had once beaten off near Surat half a dozenthree-masted grabs and a score of gallivats from the pirate stronghold atGheria. But now she had only half a dozen guns all told, and even had shepossessed the full armament there were not men enough to work them, forher complement of forty men was only half what it had been when shesailed under the Company's flag. 

Desmond confided his puzzlement to Bulger. The seaman laughed. 

"Why, bless 'ee, we en't a-goin' to run into no danger. Trust Cap'nBarker for that. You en't supercargo, to be sure; but who do you thinkthem guns and round shots in the hold be for? Why, the Pirate himself. And he'll pay a good price for 'em, too. "

"Do you mean to say that English merchants supply Angria with weapons tofight against their own countrymen?"

"Well, blest if you en't a innocent. In course they do. The guns en'talways fust-class metal, to be sure; but what's the odds? The interlopersha' got to live. "

"I don't call that right. It's not patriotic. "

"Patry what?"

"Patriotic--a right way of thinking of one's own country. An Englishmanisn't worth the name who helps England's enemies. "

Bulger looked at him in amazement. The idea of patriotism was evidentlynew to him. 

"I'll have to put that there notion in my pipe and smoke it, " he said. "I'd fight any mounseer, or Dutchman, or Portuguee as soon as look athim, 'tis on'y natural; but if a mounseer likes to give me twopence for athing that's worth a penny--why, I'll say thank 'ee and axehim--leastways if there's any matey by as knows the lingo--to buyanother. "

Shortly after dawn next morning the lookout reported four vessels towindward. From their appearance Captain Barker at once concluded that twowere Company's ships, with an escort of a couple of grabs. As he wasstill scanning them he was joined by Diggle, with whom he entered intoconversation. 

"They're making for Bombay, I reckon, " said the captain. 

"I take it we don't wish to come to close quarters with them, Barker?"

"By thunder, no! But if we hold our present course we're bound to passwithin hailing distance. Better put 'em off the scent. "

He altered the vessel's course a point or two with the object of passingto windward of the strangers, as if steering for the Portuguese port ofGoa. 

"They are running up their colors, " remarked Diggle, half an hour later. 

"British, as I thought. We'll hoist Portuguese. "

A minute or two later a puff of smoke was observed to sally from thelarger of the two grabs, followed in a few seconds by the boom of a gun. 

"A call to us to heave to, " said Bulger, in answer to Desmond's inquiry. "The unbelievin' critters thinks that Portuguee rag is all my eye. "

But the Good Intent was by this time to windward of the vessels, andCaptain Barker, standing on the quarterdeck, paid no heed to the signal. After a short interval another puff came from the deck of the grab, and around shot plunged into the sea a cable's length from the Good Intent'sbows, the grab at the same time hauling her wind and preparing to alterher course in pursuit. This movement was at once copied by the otherthree vessels, but being at least half a mile ahead of the grab that hadfired, they were a long distance astern when the chase--for chase it wasto be--began. 

Captain Barker watched the grab with the eyes of a lynx. The Good Intenthad run out of range while the grab was being put about; but the captainknew very well that the pursuer could sail much closer to the wind thanhis own vessel, and that his only chance was to beat off the leading boatbefore the others had time to come up. 

It required very little at any time to put Captain Barker into a rage, and his demeanor was watched now with different feelings by differentmembers of the crew. Diggle alone appeared unconcerned; he was smiling ashe lolled against the mast. 

"They'll fire at me, will they?" growled the captain with a curse. "Andchase me, will they? By jimmy, they shall sink me before I surrender!"

"Degeneres animos timor arguit, " quoted Diggle, smiling. 

"Argue it? I'll be hanged if I argue it! They're not king's ships to takeit on 'emselves to stop me on the high seas! If the Company wants toprevent me from honest trading in these waters let 'em go to law, and behanged to 'em! Talk of arguing! Lawyer's work. Humph!"

"You mistake, Barker. The Roman fellow whose words slipped out of mymouth almost unawares said nothing of arguing. 'Fear is the mark of onlybase minds': so it runs in English, captain; which is as much as to saythat Captain Ben Barker is not the man to haul down his colors in ahurry. "

"You're right there. Another shot! That's their argument: well, BenBarker can talk that way as well as another. "

He called up the boatswain. Shortly afterwards the order was piped, "Upall hammocks!" The men quickly stowed their bedding, secured it withlashings, and carried it to the appointed places on the quarterdeck, poop, or forecastle. Meanwhile the boatswain and his mates secured theyards; the ship's carpenter brought up shot plugs for repairing anybreeches made under the waterline; and the gunners looked to the cannonand prepared charges for them and the small arms. 

Bulger was in charge of the twelve-pounder aft, and Mr. Toley had tolledoff Desmond to assist him. They stood side by side watching the progressof the grab, which gained steadily in spite of the plunging due to itscurious build. Presently another shot came from her; it shattered thebelfry on the forecastle of the Good Intent, and splashed into the sea ahundred yards ahead. 

"They make good practice, for sartin, " remarked Bulger. "I may be wrong, but I'll lay my life there be old man-o'-war's men aboard. I mind me whenI was with Captain Golightly on the Minotaur--"

But Bulger's yarn was intercepted. At that moment the boatswain piped, "All hands to quarters!" In a surprisingly short time all timber wascleared away, the galley fire was extinguished, the yards slung, the deckstrewn with wet sand, and sails, booms, and boats liberally drenched withwater. The gun captains, each with his crew, cast loose the lashings oftheir weapons and struck open the ports. The tompions was taken out; thesponge, rammer, crows and handspikes placed in readiness, and all awaitedeagerly the word for the action to begin. 

"'Tis about time we opened our mouths at 'em, " said Bulger. "The nextbolus they send us as like as not will bring the spars a-rattlin' aboutour ears. To be sure it goes against my stummick to fire on oldmessmates; but it en't in Englishmen to hold their noses and swallowpills o' that there size. We'll load up all ready, mateys. "

He stripped to the waist, and tied a handkerchief over his ears. Desmondand the men followed his example. Then one of them sponged the bore, another inserted the cartridge, containing three pounds of powder, bymeans of a long ladle, a third shoved in a wad of rope yarn. This havingbeen driven home by the rammer, the round shot was inserted, and coveredlike the cartridge with a wad. Then Bulger took his priming iron, aninstrument like a long thin corkscrew, and thrust it into the touch holeto clear the vent and make an incision in the cartridge. Removing thepriming iron, he replaced it by the priming tube--a thin tapering tubewith very narrow bore. Into this he poured a quantity of fine mealedpowder; then he laid a train of the same powder in the little groove cutin the gun from the touch hole towards the breech. With the end of hispowder horn he slightly bruised the train, and the gun only awaited aspark from the match. 

Everything was done very quickly, and Desmond watched the seamen withadmiration. He himself had charge of the linstock, about which was woundseveral matches, consisting of lengths of twisted cotton wick steeped inlye. They had already been lighted, for they burnt so slowly that theywould last for several hours. 

"Now, we're shipshape, " said Bulger. "Mind you, Burke, don't come to farfor'ard with your linstock. I don't want the train fired with no sparksafore I'm ready. And 'ware o' the breech; she'll kick like a jumpingjackass when the shot flies out of her, an'll knock your teeth out aforeyou can say Jack Robinson--

"Ah! there's the word at last; now, mateys, here goes!"

He laid the gun, waited for the ship to rise from a roll, and then tookone of the matches, gently blew its smoldering end, and applied theglowing wick to the bruised part of the priming. There was a flash, aroar, and before Desmond could see the effect of the shot Bulger hadclosed the vent, the gun was run in, and the sponger was at work cleaningthe chamber. 

As the black smoke cleared away it was apparent that the seaman had notforgotten his cunning. The shot had struck the grab on the deck of theprow and smashed into the forecastle. But the bow chasers were apparentlyuninjured, for they replied a few seconds later. 

"Ah! There's a wunner!" said Bulger admiringly. 

A shot had carried away a yard of the gunwale of the Good Intent, scattering splinters far and wide, which inflicted nasty wounds on thesecond mate and a seaman on the quarterdeck. A jagged end of the woodflying high struck Diggle on the left cheek. He wiped away the bloodimperturbably; it was evident that lack of courage was not among hisdefects. 

Captain Barker's ire was now at white heat. Shouting an order to Bulgerand the next man to make rapid practice with the two stern chasers, heprepared to fall off and bring the Good Intent's broadside to bear on theenemy. 

But the next shot was decisive. Diggle had quietly strolled down to thegun next to Bulger's. It had just been reloaded. He bade the gun captain, in a low tone, to move aside. Then, with a glance to see that the primingwas in order, he took careful sight, and waiting until the grab's main, mizzen and foremasts opened to view altogether, he applied the match. Theshot sped true, and a second later the grab's mainmast, with sails andrigging, went by the board. 

A wild cheer from the crew of the Good Intent acclaimed the excellentshot. 

"By thunder!" said Bulger to Desmond. "Diggle may be a rogue and avagabond, but he knows how to train a gun. "

Captain Barker signified his approval by a tremendous mouth-filling oath. But he was not yet safe. The second grab was following hard in the wakeof the first; and it was plain that the two Indiamen were both somewhatfaster than the Good Intent; for during the running fight that had justended so disastrously for the grab, they had considerably lessened thegap between them and their quarry. Captain Barker watched them with anexpression of fierce determination, but not without anxiety. If theyshould come within striking distance it was impossible to withstandsuccessfully their heavier armament and larger crews. The firing hadceased: each vessel had crowded on all sail; and the brisk breeze mustsoon bring pursuer and pursued to a close engagement which could haveonly one result. 

"I may be wrong, but seems to me we'd better say our prayers, " Bulgerremarked grimly to his gun crew. 

But Desmond, gazing up at the shrouds, said suddenly:

"The wind's dropping. Look!"

It was true. Before the monsoon sets in in earnest it not unfrequentlyhappens that the wind veers fitfully; a squall is succeeded almostinstantaneously by a calm. So it was now. In less than an hour all fivevessels were becalmed; and when night fell three miles separated the GoodIntent from the second grab; the Indiamen lay a mile farther astern; andthe damaged vessel was out of sight. 

Captain Barker took counsel with his officers. He expected to be attackedduring the night by the united boats of the pursuing fleet. Under coverof darkness they would be able to creep up close and board the vessel, and the captain knew well that if taken he would be treated as a pirate. His papers were made out for Philadelphia; he had hoisted Portuguesecolors, but the enemy at close quarters could easily see that the GoodIntent was British built; he had disabled one of the Company's vessels;there would be no mercy for him. 

He saw no chance of beating off the enemy; they would outnumber him by atleast five to one. Even if the wind sprang up again there was smalllikelihood of escape. One or other of the pursuing vessels would almostcertainly overhaul him, and hold him until the others came up. 

"'Tis a 'tarnal fix, " he said. 

"Methinks 'tis a case of actum est de nobis, " remarked Diggle pleasantly. 

"Confound you!" said the captain with a burst of anger. "What could Iexpect with a gallows bird like you aboard? 'Tis enough to sink a vesselwithout shot. "

Diggle's face darkened. But in a moment his smile returned. 

"You are overwrought, captain, " he said; "you are unstrung. 'Twould beridiculous to take amiss words said in haste. In cold blood--well, youknow me, Captain Barker. I will leave you to recover from your briefmadness. "

He went below. The captain was left with Mr. Toley and the otherofficers. Barker and Toley always got on well together, for the simplereason that the mate never thwarted his superior, never resented hisabuse, but went quietly his own way. He listened now for a quarter of anhour, with fixed sadness of expression, while Captain Barker poured thevials of his wrath upon everything under the sun. When the captain hadcome to an end, and sunk into an estate of lowering dudgeon, Mr. Toleysaid quietly:

"'Tis all you say, sir, and more. I guess I've never seen a harder case. But while you was speaking, something you said struck a sort of idea intomy brain. "

"That don't happen often. What is it?"

"Why, the sort of idea that came to me out o' what you was saying wasjust this. How would it be to take soundings?"

"So, that's your notion, is it? Hang me, are you a fool like the rest of'em? You're always taking soundings! What in the name of thunder do youwant to take soundings for?"

"Nothing particular, cap'n. That was the kind o' notion that come of whatyou was saying. Of course it depends on the depths hereabouts. "

"Deep enough to sink you and your notions and all that's like to come of'em. Darned if I ain't got the most lubberly company ever mortal man wasplagued with. Officers and men, there en't one of you as is worth yoursalt, and you with your long face and your notions--why, hang me, you'reno more good than the dirtiest waister afloat. "

Mr. Toley smiled sadly, and ventured on no rejoinder. After the captain'soutburst none of the group dared to utter a word. This pleased him nobetter; he cursed them all for standing mum; and spent ten minutes inreviling them in turn. Then his passion appeared to have burnt itselfout. Turning suddenly to the melancholy mate, he said roughly:

"Go and heave your lead, then, and be hanged to it. "

Mr. Toley walked away aft and ordered one of the men to heave thedeep-sea lead. The plummet, shaped like the frustum of a cone, andweighing thirty pounds, was thrown out from the side in the line of thevessel's drift. 

"By the mark sixty, less five, " sang out the man when the lead touchedthe bottom. 

"I guess that'll do, " said the first mate, returning to the quarterdeck. 

"Well, what about your notion?" said the captain scornfully. But helistened quietly and with an intent look upon his weatherbeaten face asMr. Toley explained. 

"You see, sir, " he said, "while you was talking just now, I sort o' sawthat if they attack us, 'twon't be for at least two hours after dark. Theboats won't put off while there's light enough to see 'em; and won'thurry anyhow, 'cos if they did the men 'ud have nary much strength leftto 'em. Well, they'll take our bearings, of course. Thinks I, owing towhat you said, sir, what if we could shift 'em by half a mile or so? Theboats 'ud miss us in the darkness. "

"That's so, " ejaculated the captain; "and what then?"

"Well, sir, 'tis there my idea of taking soundings comes in. The GoodIntent can't be towed, not with our handful of men; but why shouldn't shebe kedged? That's the notion, sir; and I guess you'll think it over. "

"By jimmy, Toley, you en't come out o' Salem, Massachusetts, for nothing. 'Tis a notion, a rare one; Ben Barker en't the man to bear a grudge, andI take back them words o' mine--leastways some on 'em. 

"Bo'sun, get ready to lower the longboat. "

The longboat was lowered, out of sight of the enemy. A kedge anchor, fastened to a stout hawser, was put on board, and as soon as it wassufficiently dark to make so comparatively small an object as a boatinvisible to the hostile craft, she put off at right angles to the GoodIntent's previous course, the hawser attached to the kedge being paid outas the boat drew away. When it had gone about a fifth of a mile from thevessel the kedge was dropped, and a signal was given by hauling on therope. 

"Clap on, men!" cried Captain Barker. "Get a good purchase, and none ofyour singsong; avast all jabber. "

The crew manned the windlass and began with a will to haul on the cablein dead silence. The vessel was slowly warped ahead. Meanwhile thelongboat was returning; when she reached the side of the Good Intent, asecond kedge was lowered into her, and again she put off, to drop theanchor two cables' length beyond the first, so that when the ship hadtripped that, the second was ready to be hauled on. 

When the Good Intent had been thus warped a mile from her position atnightfall, Captain Parker ordered the operation to be stopped. To avoidnoise the boat was not hoisted in. No lights were shown, and the skybeing somewhat overcast, the boat's crew found that the ship wasinvisible at the distance of a fourth of a cable's length. 

"I may be wrong, " said Bulger to Desmond, "but I don't believe kedgin'was ever done so far from harbor afore. I allers thought there wassomething in that long head of Mr. Toley, though, to be sure, there en'tno call for him to pull a long face, too. "

An hour passed after the loading had been stopped. All on board the GoodIntent remained silent, speaking, if they spoke at all, in whispers. There had been no signs of the expected attack. Desmond was leaning onthe gunwale, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the enemy. But his earsgave him the first intimation of their approach. He heard a faintcreaking, as of oars in rowlocks, and stepped back to where Bulger wasleaning against the mast. 

"There they come, " he said. 

The sound had already reached Captain Barker's ears. It was faint;doubtless the oars were muffled. The ship was rolling lazily; save forthe creaking nothing was heard but the lapping of the ripples against thehull. So still was the night that the slightest sound must travel far, and the captain remarked in a whisper to Mr. Toley that he guessed theapproaching boats to be at least six cables' lengths distant. 

Officers and men listened intently. The creaking grew no louder; on thecontrary, it gradually became fainter, and at last died away. There was along silence, broken only by what sounded like a low hail someconsiderable distance away. 

"They're musterin' the boats, " said Bulger, with a chuckle. "I may bewrong, but I'll bet my breeches they find they've overshot the mark. Nowthey'll scatter and try to nose us out. "

Another hour of anxious suspense slowly passed, and still nothing hadhappened. Then suddenly a blue light flashed for a few moments on theblackness of the sea, answered almost instantaneously by a rocket fromanother quarter. It was clear that the boats, having signaled that thesearch had failed, had been recalled by the rocket to the fleet. 

"By thunder, Mr. Toley, you've done the trick!" said the captain. 

"I guess we don't get our living by making mistakes--not in Salem, Massachusetts, " returned the first mate with his sad smile. 

Through the night the watch was kept with more than ordinary vigilance, but nothing occurred to give Captain Barker anxiety. With morning lightthe enemy could be seen far astern. 

Chapter 10: In which our hero arrives in the Golden East, and Mr. Digglepresents him to a native prince. 

About midday a light breeze sprang up from the northwest. The twoIndiamen and the uninjured grab, being the first to catch it, gained afull mile before the Good Intent, under topgallant sails, studding sails, royal and driver, began to slip through the water at her best speed. But, as the previous day's experience had proved, she was no match in sailingcapacity for the pursuers. They gained on her steadily, and the grab hadcome almost within cannon range when the man at the masthead shouted:

"Sail ho! About a dozen sail ahead, sir!"

The captain spluttered out a round dozen oaths, and his dark face grewstill darker. So many vessels in company must surely mean the king'sships with a convoy. The French, so far as Captain Barker knew, had nosuch fleet in Indian waters, nor had the Dutch or Portuguese. If theywere indeed British men-o'-war he would be caught between two fires, forthere was not a doubt that they would support the Company's vessels. 

"We ought to be within twenty miles of the coast, Mr. Toley, " saidCaptain Barker. 

"Ay, sir, and somewhere in the latitude of Gheria. "

"Odds bobs, and now I come to think of it, those there vessels may besailing to attack Gheria, seeing as how, as these niggers told us, they've bust up Suwarndrug. "

"Guess I'll get to the foretop myself and take a look, sir, " said Mr. Toley. 

He mounted, carrying the only perspective glass the vessel possessed. Thecaptain watched him anxiously as he took a long look. 

"What do you make of 'em?" he shouted. 

The mate shut up the telescope and came leisurely down. 

"I count fifteen in all, sir. "

"I don't care how many. What are they?"

"I calculate they're grabs and gallivats, sir. "

The captain gave a hoarse chuckle. 

"By thunder, then, we'll soon turn the tables! Angria's gallivats--eh, Mr. Toley? We'll make a haul yet. "

But Captain Barker was to be disappointed. The fleet had been descriedalso by the pursuers. A few minutes later the grab threw out a signal, hauled her wind and stood away to the northward, followed closely by thetwo larger vessels. The captain growled his disappointment. Nearly adozen of the coast craft, as they were now clearly seen to be, went inpursuit, but with little chance of coming up with the chase. Theremaining vessels of the newly-arrived fleet stood out to meet the GoodIntent. 

"Fetch us that Maratha fellow, " cried the captain, "and hoist a whiteflag. "

When the Maratha appeared, a pitiable object, emaciated for want of food, Captain Barker bade him shout as soon as the newcomers came withinhailing distance. The white flag at the masthead, and a loud, long-drawnhail from Hybati, apprised the grab that the Good Intent was no enemy, and averted hostilities. And thus it was, amid a convoy of Angria's ownfleet, that Captain Barker's vessel, a few hours later, sailed peacefullyinto the harbor of Gheria. 

Desmond looked with curious eyes on the famous fort and harbor. On theright, as the Good Intent entered, he saw a long, narrow promontory, atthe end of which was a fortress, constructed, as it appeared, of solidrock. The promontory was joined to the mainland by a narrow isthmus ofsand, beyond which lay an open town of some size. The shore was fringedwith palmyras, mangoes and other tropical trees, and behind the strawhuts and stone buildings of the town leafy groves clothed the sides of agentle hill. 

The harbor, which forms the mouth of a river, was studded with Angria'svessels, large and small, and from the docks situated on the sandyisthmus came the busy sound of shipwrights at work. The rocky walls ofthe fort were fifty feet high, with round towers, long curtains, and somefifty embrasures. The left shore of the harbor was flat, but to the southof the fort rose a hill of the same height as the walls of rock. Such wasthe headquarters of the notorious pirate Tulaji Angria, the last of theline which had for fifty years been the terror of the Malabar coast. 

The Good Intent dropped anchor off the jetty running out from the docksnorth of the fort. Captain Barker had already given orders that no shoreleave was to be allowed to the crew, and as soon as he had stepped intothe longboat, accompanied by Diggle, the men's discontent broke forth inangry imprecations, which Mr. Toley wisely affected not to hear. 

No time was lost in unloading the portion of the cargo intended forAngria. The goods were carried along the jetty by stalwart Marathas cladonly in loincloths, and stored in rude cabins with penthouse roofs. AsDesmond knew, the heavy chests that taxed the strength of the bearerscontained for the most part muskets and ammunition. The work went on forthe greater part of the day, and at nightfall neither the captain norDiggle had returned to the vessel. 

Next day a large quantity of Indian produce was taken on board. Desmondnoticed that as the bales and casks reached the deck, some of the crewwere told off to remove all marks from them. 

"What's that for?" repeated Bulger, in reply to a question of Desmond's. "Why, 'cos if the ship came to be overhauled by a Company's vessel, itwould tell tales if the cargo had Company's marks on it. That wouldn't doby no manner o' means. "

"But how should they get Company's marks on them?"

Bulger winked. 

"You're raw yet, Burke, " he said. "You'll know quite as much as is goodfor you by the time you've made another voyage or two in the GoodIntent. "

"But I don't intend to make another voyage in her. Mr. Diggle promised toget me employment in the country. "

"What? You still believes in that there Diggle? Well, I don't want tohurt no feelin's, and I may be wrong, but I'll lay my bottom dollarDiggle won't do a hand's turn for you. "

The second day passed, and in the evening Captain Barker, who hadhitherto left Mr. Toley in charge, came aboard in high humor. 

"I may be wrong, " remarked Bulger, "but judgin' by cap'n's face, he'vebeen an' choused the Pirate--got twice the valley o' the goods he'slanded. "

"I wonder where Mr. Diggle is?" said Desmond. 

"You en't no call to mourn for him, I tell you. He's an old friend of thePirate, don't make no mistake; neither you nor me will be any the worsefor not seein' his grinnin' phiz no more. Thank your stars he've left youalone for the last part of the voyage, which I wonder at, all the same. "

Next day all was bustle on board in preparation for sailing. In theafternoon a peon {messenger} came hurrying along the jetty, boarded thevessel, and handed a note to the captain, who read it, tore it up, anddismissed the messenger. He went down to his cabin, and coming up a fewminutes later, cried:

"Where's that boy Burke?"

"Here, sir, " cried Desmond, starting up from the place where, in Bulger'scompany, he had been splicing a rope. 

"Idling away your time as usual, of course. Here, take this chit {note}and run ashore. 'Tis for Mr. Diggle, as you can see if you can read. "

"But how am I to find him, sir?"

"Hang me, that's your concern. Find him, and give the chit into his ownhand, and be back without any tomfoolery, or by thunder I'll lay a ropeacross your shoulders. "

Desmond took the note, left the vessel, and hurried along the jetty. After what Bulger had said he was not very well pleased at the prospectof meeting Diggle again. At the shore end of the jetty he was accosted bythe peon who had brought Diggle's note on board. The man intimated bysigns that he would show the way, and Desmond, wondering why the Indianhad not himself waited to receive Captain Barker's answer, followed himat a rapid pace on shore, past the docks, through a corner of the townwhere the appearance of a white stranger attracted the curious attentionof the natives, to an open space in front of the entrance to the fort. 

Here they arrived at a low wall cut by an open gateway, at each side ofwhich stood a Maratha sentry armed with a matchlock. A few words wereexchanged between Desmond's guide and one of the sentries; the twoentered, crossed a compound dotted with trees, and passing through theprincipal gateway came to a large, square building near the center of thefort. The door of this was guarded by a sentry. Again a few words werespoken. Desmond fancied he saw a slight smile curl the lips of thenatives; then the sentry called another peon who stood at hand, and senthim into the palace. 

Desmond felt a strange sinking at heart. The smile upon these dark facesawakened a vague uneasiness; it was so like Diggle's smile. He supposedthat the man had gone in to report that he had arrived with the captain'sanswer. The note still remained with him; the Marathas apparently knewthat it was to be delivered personally; yet he was left at the door, andhis guide stood by in an attitude that suggested he was on guard. 

How long was he to be kept waiting? he wondered. Captain Barker hadordered him to return at once; the penalty for disobedience he knew onlytoo well; yet the minutes passed, and lengthened into two hours withoutany sign of the man who had gone in with the message. Desmond spoke tothe guide, but the man shook his head, knowing no English. Becoming moreand more uneasy, he was at length relieved to see the messenger come backto the door and beckon him to enter. As he passed the sentries they madehim a salaam in which his anxious sensitiveness detected a shade ofmockery; but before he could define his feelings he reached a third doorguarded like the others, and was ushered in. 

He found himself in a large chamber, its walls dazzling with barbaricdecoration--figures of Ganessa, a favorite idol of the Marathas, ofmonstrous elephants, and peacocks with enormously expanded tails. Thehall was so crowded that his first confusion was redoubled. A path wasmade through the throng as at a signal, and at the end of the room he sawtwo men apart from the rest. 

One of them, standing a little back from the other, was Diggle; theother, a tall, powerful figure in raiment as gaudy as the paintedpeacocks around him, his fingers covered with rings, a diamond blazing inhis headdress, was sitting cross-legged on a dais. Behind him, againstthe wall, was an image of Ganessa, made of solid gold, with diamonds foreyes, and blazing with jewels. At one side was his hookah, at the other atwo-edged sword and an unsheathed dagger. Below the dais on either handtwo fierce-visaged Marathas stood, their heads and shoulders covered witha helmet, their bodies cased in a quilted vest, each holding a straighttwo-edged sword. Between Angria and the idol two fan bearers lightlyswept the air above their lord's head with broad fans of palm leaves. 

Desmond walked towards the dais, feeling woefully out of place amid thebrilliant costumes of Angria's court. Scarcely two of the Marathas weredressed alike; some were in white, some in lilac, others in purple, buteach with ornaments after his own taste. Desmond had not had time beforeleaving the Good Intent to smarten himself up, and he stood there a tall, thin, sunburnt youth in dirty, tattered garments, doing his best to facethe assembly with British courage. 

At the foot of the dais he paused and held out the captain's note. Diggletook it in silence, his face wearing the smile that Desmond knew so welland now so fully distrusted. Without reading it, he tore it in fragmentsand threw them upon the floor, at the same time saying a few words to theresplendent figure at his side. 

Tulaji Angria was dark, inclined to be fat, and not unpleasant infeature. But it was with a scowling brow that he replied to Diggle. Desmond was no coward, but he afterward confessed that as he stood therewatching the two faces, the dark, lowering face of Angria, the smiling, scarcely less swarthy face of Diggle, he felt his knees tremble underhim. What was the Pirate saying? That he was the subject of theirconversation was plain from the glances thrown at him; that he was at acrisis in his fate he knew by instinct; but, ignorant of the tongue theyspoke, he could but wait in fearful anxiety and mistrust. 

He learned afterwards the purport of the talk. 

"That is your man?" said Angria. 'You have deceived me. I looked for aman of large stature and robust make, like the Englishmen I already have. What good will this slim, starved stripling be in my barge?"

"You must not be impatient, huzur {lord}, " replied Diggle. "He is astripling, it is true; slim, certainly; starved--well, the work on boardship does not tend to fatten a man. But give him time; he is but sixteenor seventeen years old, young in my country. In a year or two, under yourregimen, he will develop; he comes of a hardy stock, and already he canmake himself useful. He was one of the quickest and handiest on board ourship, though this was his first voyage. "

"But you yourself admit that he is not yet competent for the oar in mybarge. What is to recompense me for the food he will eat while he isgrowing? No, Diggle sahib, if I take him I must have some allowance offthe price. In truth, I will not take him unless you send me from yourvessel a dozen good muskets. That is my word. "

"Still, huzur--" began Diggle, but Angria cut him short with a gesture ofimpatience. 

"That is my word, I say. Shall I, Tulaji Angria, dispute with you? I willhave twenty muskets, or you may keep the boy. "

Diggle shrugged and smiled. 

"Very well, huzur. You drive a hard bargain; but it shall be as you say. I will send a chit to the captain, and you shall have the muskets beforethe ship sails. "

Angria made a sign to one of his attendants. The man approached Desmond, took him by the sleeve, and signed for him to come away. Desmond threw abeseeching look at Diggle, and said hurriedly:

"Mr. Diggle, please tell me--"

But Angria rose to his feet in wrath, and shouted to the man who hadDesmond by the sleeve. Desmond made no further resistance. His head swamas he passed between the dusky ranks out into the courtyard. 

"What does it all mean?" he asked himself. 

His guide hurried him along until they came to a barn-like building underthe northwest angle of the fort. The Maratha unlocked the door, signed toDesmond to enter, and locked him in. He was alone. 

He spent three miserable hours. Bitterly did he now regret having cast inhis lot with the smooth-spoken stranger who had been so sympathetic withhim in his troubles at home. He tried to guess what was to be done withhim. He was in Angria's power, a prisoner, but to what end? Had he runfrom the tyranny at home merely to fall a victim to a worse tyranny atthe hands of an oriental? He knew so little of Angria, and his brain wasin such a turmoil, that he could not give definite shape to his fears. 

He paced up and down the hot, stuffy shed, awaiting, dreading, he knewnot what. Through the hole that served for a window he saw men passing toand fro across the courtyard, but they were all swarthy, all alien; therewas no one from whom he could expect a friendly word. 

Toward evening, as he looked through the hole, he saw Diggle issue fromthe door of the palace and cross towards the outer gate. 

"Mr. Diggle! Mr. Diggle!" he called. "Please! I am locked up here. "

Diggle looked round, smiled, and leisurely approached the shed. 

"Why have they shut me up here?" demanded Desmond. "Captain Barker said Iwas to return at once. Do get the door unlocked. "

"You ask the impossible, my young friend, " replied Diggle through thehole. "You are here by the orders of Angria, and 'twould be treason in meto pick his locks. "

"But why? what right has he to lock me up? and you, why did you let him?You said you were my friend; you promised--oh, you know what youpromised. "

"I promised? Truly, I promised that, if you were bent on accompanying meto these shores, I would use my influence to procure you employment withone of my friends among the native princes. Well, I have kept my word;firmavi fidem, as the Latin hath it. Angria is my friend; I have used myinfluence with him; and you are now in the service of one of the mostpotent of Indian princes. True, your service is but beginning. It may bearduous at first; it may be long ab ovo usque ad mala; the egg may behard, and the apples, perchance, somewhat sour; but as you become inuredto your duties, you will learn resignation and patience, and--"

"Don't!" burst out Desmond, unable to endure the smooth-flowing periodsof the man now self-confessed a villain. "What does it mean? Tell meplainly; am I a slave?"

"Servulus, non servus, my dear boy. What is the odds whether you serveDick Burke, a booby farmer, or Tulaji Angria, a prince and a man ofintelligence? Yet there is a difference, and I would give you a word ofcounsel. Angria is an oriental, and a despot; it were best to serve himwith all diligence, or--"

He finished the sentence with a meaning grimace. 

"Mr. Diggle, you can't mean it, " said Desmond. "Don't leave me here! Iimplore you to release me. What have I ever done to you? Don't leave mein this awful place. "

Diggle smiled and began to move away. At the sight of his malicious smilethe prisoner's despair was swept away before a tempest of rage. 

"You scoundrel! You shameless scoundrel!"

The words, low spoken and vibrant with contempt, reached Diggle when hewas some distance from the shed. He turned and sauntered back. 

"Heia! contumeliosae voces! 'Tis pretty abuse. My young friend, I mustwithdraw my ears from such shocking language. But stay! if you have anymessage for Sir Willoughby, your squire, whose affections you have sodiligently cultivated to the prejudice of his nearest and dearest, itwere well for you to give it. 'Tis your last opportunity; for those whoenter Angria's service enjoy a useful but not a long career. And before Ireturn to Gheria from a little journey I am about to make, you may havejoined the majority of those who have tempted fate in this insalubriousclime. Horae momento cita mors yen it--you remember the phrase?"

Diggle leaned against the wooden wall, watching with malicious enjoymentthe effect of his words. Desmond was very pale; all his strength seemedto have deserted him. Finding that his taunts provoked no reply, Digglewent on:

"Time presses, my young friend. You will be logged a deserter from theGood Intent. 'Tis my fervent hope you never fall into the hands ofCaptain Barker; as you know, he is a terrible man when roused. "

Waving his gloved hand, he moved away. Desmond did not watch hisdeparture. Falling back from the window, he threw himself upon theground, and gave way to a long fit of black despair. 

How long he lay in this agony he knew not. But he was at last roused bythe opening of the door. It was almost dark. Rising to his feet, he saw anumber of men hustled into the shed. Ranged along one of the walls, theysquatted on the floor, and for some minutes afterwards Desmond heard theclank of irons and the harsh grating of a key. Then a big Maratha came tohim, searched him thoroughly, clapped iron bands upon his ankles, andlocked the chains to staples in the wall. Soon the door was shut, barred, and locked, and Desmond found himself a prisoner with eight others. 

For a little they spoke among themselves, in the low tones of men utterlyspent and dispirited. Then all was silent, and they slept. But Desmondlay wide awake, waiting for the morning. 

The shed was terribly hot. Air came only through the one narrow opening, and before an hour was past the atmosphere was foul, seeming the morehorrible to Desmond by contrast with the freshness of his life on theocean. Mosquitoes nipped him until he could scarcely endure the intenseirritation. He would have given anything for a little water; but thoughhe heard a sentry pacing up and down outside, he did not venture to callto him, and could only writhe in heat and torture, longing for the dawn, yet fearing it and what it might bring forth. 

Worn and haggard after his sleepless night, Desmond had scarcely spiritenough to look with curiosity on his fellow prisoners when the shed wasfaintly lit by the morning sun. But he saw that the eight men, allnatives, were lying on crude charpoys {mat beds} along the wall, each manchained to a staple like his own. One of the men was awake; and, catchingDesmond's lusterless eyes fixed upon him, he sat up and returned hisgaze. 

"Your Honor is an English gentleman?"

The words caused Desmond to start: they were so unexpected in such aplace. The Indian spoke softly and carefully, as if anxious not to awakenhis companions. 

"Yes, " replied Desmond. "Who are you?"

"My name, sir, is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti. I was lately a clerk in theemploy of a burra {great} sahib, English factor, at Calcutta. "

"How did you get here?"

"That, sahib, is a moving tale. While on a visit of condolence to myrespectable uncle and aunt at Chittagong, I was kidnapped by Sandarbandpiratical dogs. Presto!--at that serious crisis a Dutch ship makesapparition and rescues me; but my last state is more desperate than thefirst. The Dutch vessel will not stop to replace me on mother earth; sheis for Bombay, across the kala pani {black water}, as we say. I am not aswimmer; besides, what boots it?--we are ten miles from land, to saynothing of sharks and crocodiles and the lordly tiger. So I perforceremain, to the injury of my caste, which forbids navigation. But see theissue. The Dutch ship is assaulted; grabs and gallivats galore swarm uponthe face of the waters; all is confusion worse confounded; in a brace ofshakes we are in the toils. It is now two years since this untowardcatastrophe. With the crew I am conveyed hither and eat the bitter crustof servitude. Some of the Dutchmen are consigned to other forts inpossession of the Pirate, and three serve here in his state barge. "

Desmond glanced at the sleeping forms. 

"No, sir, they are not here, " said the Babu {equivalent to Mr. ; appliedby the English to the native clerk}, catching his look. "They shareanother apartment with your countrymen--chained? Oh, yes! These, mybedfellows of misfortune, are Indians, not of Bengal, like myself; twoare Biluchis hauled from a country ship; two are Mussulmans from Mysore;one a Gujarati; two Marathas. We are a motley crew--a miscellany, noless. "

"What do they do with you in the daytime?"

"I, sir, adjust accounts of the Pirate's dockyard; for this I amqualified by prolonged driving of quill in Calcutta, to expressedsatisfaction of Honorable John Company and English merchants. But myposition, sir, is of Damoclean anxiety. I am horrified by conviction thatone small error of calculation will entail direst retribution. Videlicet, sir, this week a fellow captive is minus a finger and thumb--and all foroversight of six annas {the anna is the 16th part of a rupee}. But I hearthe step of our jailer; I must bridle my tongue. "

The Babu had spoken throughout in a low monotonous tone that had notdisturbed the slumbers of his fellow prisoners. But they were allawakened by the noisy opening of the door and the entrance of theirjailer. He went to each in turn, and unlocked their fetters; then theyfiled out in dumb submission, to be escorted by armed sentries to thedifferent sheds where they fed, each caste by itself. 

When the eight had disappeared the jailer turned to Desmond, and, takinghim by the sleeve, led him across the courtyard into the palace. Here, ina little room, he was given a meager breakfast of rice; after which hewas taken to another room where he found Angria in company with a bigMaratha, who had in his hand a long bamboo cane. The Pirate was no longerin durbar {council, ceremonial} array, but was clad in a long yellow robewith a lilac-colored shawl. 

Conscious that he made a very poor appearance in his tatters, Desmondfelt that the two men looked at him with contempt. A brief conversationpassed between them; then the Maratha salaamed to Angria and went fromthe room, beckoning Desmond to follow him. They went out of the precinctsof the palace, and through a part of the town, until they arrived at thedocks. There the laborers, slaves and free, were already at work. Desmondat the first glance noticed several Europeans among them, miserableobjects who scarcely lifted their heads to look at this latest newcomerof their race. His guide called up one of the foremen shipwrights, andinstructed him to place the boy among a gang of the workmen. Then he wentaway. Scarcely a minute had elapsed when Desmond heard a cry, and lookinground, saw the man brutally belaboring with his rattan the bare shouldersof a native. He quivered; the incident seemed of ill augury. 

In a few minutes Desmond found himself among a gang of men who wereworking at a new gallivat in process of construction for Angria's ownuse. He received his orders in dumb show from the foreman of the gang. Miserable as he was, he would not have been a boy if he had not beeninterested in his novel surroundings; and no intelligent boy could havefailed to take an interest in the construction of a gallivat. It was alarge rowboat of from thirty to seventy tons, with two masts, the mizzenbeing very slight. The mainmast bore one huge sail, triangular in form, its peak extending to a considerable height above the mast. The smallergallivats were covered with a spar deck made of split bamboos, theirarmament consisting of pettararoes fixed on swivels in the gunwale. Butthe larger vessels had a fixed deck on which were mounted six or eightcannon, from two to four pounders; and in addition to their sail they hadfrom forty to fifty oars, so that, with a stout crew, they attained arate of four or five miles an hour. 

One of the first things Desmond learned was that the Indian mode of shipbuilding differed fundamentally from the European. The timbers werefitted in after the planks had been put together; and the planks were puttogether, not with flat edges, but rabbited, the parts made to correspondwith the greatest exactness. When a plank was set up, its edge wassmeared with red lead, and the edge of the plank to come next was presseddown upon it, the inequalities in its surface being thus shown by themarks of the lead. These being smoothed away, if necessary several times, and the edges fitting exactly, they were rubbed with da'ma, a sort ofglue that in course of time became as hard as iron. The planks were thenfirmly riveted with pegs, and by the time the work was finished the seamswere scarcely visible, the whole forming apparently one entire piece oftimber. 

The process of building a gallivat was thus a very long and tedious one;but the vessel when completed was so strong that it could go to sea formany years before the hull needed repair. 

Desmond learned all this only gradually; but from the first day, making avirtue of necessity, he threw himself into the work and became veryuseful, winning the good opinion of the officers of the dockyard. Hisfeelings were frequently wrung by the brutal punishments inflicted by theoverseer upon defaulters. The man had absolute power over the workers. Hecould flog them, starve them, even cut off their ears and noses. One ofhis favorite devices was to tie a quantity of oiled cotton round each ofa man's fingers and set light to these living torches. 

Another, used with a man whom he considered lazy, was the tank. Betweenthe dockyard and the river, separated from the latter only by a thinwall, was a square cavity about seven feet deep covered with boarding, inthe center of which was a circular hole. In the wall was a small orificethrough which water could be let in from the river, while in the oppositewall was the pipe and spout of a small hand pump. The man whom theoverseer regarded as an idler was let down into the tank, the coveringreplaced, and water allowed to enter from the river. This was a potentspur to the defaulter's activity, for if he did not work the pump fastenough the water would gradually rise in the tank, and he would drown. Desmond learned of one case where the man, utterly worn out by his lifeof alternate toil and punishment, refused to work the pump and stood insilent indifference while the water mounted inch by inch until it coveredhis head and ended his woes. 

Desmond's diligence in the dockyard pleased the overseer, whose name wasGovinda, and he was by and by employed on lighter tasks which took himsometimes into the town. Until the novelty wore off he felt a livelyinterest in the scenes that met his eye--the bazaars, crowded withdark-skinned natives, the men mustachioed, clad for the most part inwhite garments that covered them from the crown of the head to the knee, with a touch of red sometimes in their turbans; the women with bare headsand arms and feet, garbed in red and blue; the gosains, mendicants withmatted hair and unspeakable filth; the women who fried chapatis {small, flat, unleavened cakes} on griddles in the streets, grinding their mealin handmills; the sword grinders, whetting the blades of the Marathatwo-edged swords; the barbers, whose shops had a never-ending successionof customers; the Brahmans, almost naked and shaved bald save for a smalltuft at the back of the head; the sellers of madi, a toddy extracted fromthe cocoanut palm; the magicians in their shawls, with high stiff redcap, painted all over with snakes; the humped bullocks that were employedas beasts of burden, and when not in use roamed the streets untended;occasionally the basawa, the sacred bull of Siva, the destroyer, and therath {car} carrying the sacred rat of Ganessa. But with familiarity suchscenes lost their charm; and as the months passed away Desmond felt moreand more the gnawing of care at his heart, the constant sadness of aslave. 

Chapter 11: In which the Babu tells the story of King Vikramaditya; and thediscerning reader may find more than appears on the surface. 

Day followed day in dreary sameness. Regularly every evening Desmond waslocked with his eight fellow prisoners in the shed, there to spend hoursof weariness and discomfort until morning brought release and the commontask. He had the same rations of rice and ragi {a cereal}, withoccasional doles of more substantial fare. He was carefully kept from allcommunication with the other European prisoners, and as the Bengali wasthe only man of his set who knew English, his only opportunities of usinghis native tongue occurred in the evening before he slept. 

His fellow prisoners spoke Urdu among themselves, and Desmond found somealleviation of the monotony of his life in learning the lingua franca ofIndia under the Babu's tuition. He was encouraged to persevere in thestudy by the fact that the Babu proved to be an excellent storyteller, often beguiling the tedium of wakeful hours in the shed by relatinginterminable narratives from the Hindu mythology, and in particular theexploits of the legendary hero Vikramaditya. So accomplished was he inthis very oriental art that it was not uncommon for one or other of thesentries to listen to him through the opening in the shed wall, and thehead warder who locked the prisoners' fetters would himself sometimessquat down at the door before leaving them at night, and remain aninterested auditor until the blast of a horn warned all in the fort andtown that the hour of sleep had come. It was some time before Desmond wassufficiently familiar with the language to pick up more than a few wordsof the stories here and there, but in three months he found himself ableto follow the narrative with ease. 

Meanwhile he was growing apace. The constant work in the open air, clad, save during the rains, in nothing but a thin dhoti {a cloth worn roundthe waist, passed between the legs and tucked in behind the back}, developed his physique and, even in that hot climate, hardened hismuscles. The Babu one day remarked with envy that he would soon be deemedworthy of promotion to Angria's own gallivat, whose crew consisted ofpicked men of all nationalities. 

This was an honor Desmond by no means coveted. As a dockyard workman, earning his food by the sweat of his brow, he did not come in contactwith Angria, and was indeed less hardly used than he had been on boardthe Good Intent. But to become a galley slave seemed to him a differentthing, and the prospect of pulling an oar in the Pirate's gallivat servedto intensify his longing to escape. 

For, though he proved so willing and docile in the dockyard, not a daypassed but he pondered the idea of escape. He seized every opportunity oflearning the topography of the fort and town, being aided in thisunwittingly by Govinda, who employed him more and more often, as hebecame familiar with the language, in conveying messages from one part ofthe settlement to another. But he was forced to confess to himself thatthe chances of escape were very slight. Gheria was many miles from thenearest European settlement where he might find refuge. To escape by seaseemed impossible; if he fled through the town and got clear of Angria'sterritory he would almost certainly fall into the hands of the Peshwa's{the prime minister and real ruler of the Maratha kingdom} people, andalthough the Peshwa was nominally an ally of the Company, his subjects--alawless, turbulent, predatory race--were not likely to be speciallyfriendly to a solitary English lad. A half-felt hope that he might beable to reach Suwarndrug, lately captured by Commodore James, was dashedby the news that that fort had been handed over by him to the Marathas. Moreover, such was the rivalry among the various European nationscompeting for trade in India that he was by no means sure of a friendlyreception if he should succeed in gaining a Portuguese or Dutchsettlement. Dark stories were told of Portuguese dealings withEnglishmen, and the Dutch bore no good repute for their treatment ofprisoners. 

It was a matter of wonder to Desmond that none of his companions everhinted at escape. He could not imagine that any man could be a slavewithout feeling a yearning for liberty; yet these men lived through theunvarying round; eating, toiling, sleeping, without any apparent mentalrevolt. He could only surmise that all manliness and spirit had beencrushed out of them, and from motives of prudence he forbore to speak offreedom. 

But one evening, a sultry August evening when the shed was like an oven, and, bathed in sweat, he felt utterly limp and depressed, he asked theBabu in English whether anyone had ever escaped out of Angria's clutches. Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti glanced anxiously around, as if fearful thatthe others might understand. But they lay listless on their charpoys;they knew no English, and there was nothing in Desmond's tone to quickentheir hopelessness. 

"No, sahib, " said the Bengali; "such escapade, if successful, is beyondmy ken. There have been attempts; cui bono? Nobody is an anna the better. Nay, the last state of such misguided men is even worse; they diesuffering very ingenious torture. "

Desmond had been amazed at the Babu's command of English until he learnedthat the man was an omnivorous reader, and in his leisure at Calcutta hadspent many an hour in poring over such literature as his master's scantylibrary afforded, the works of Mr. Samuel Johnson and Mr. Henry Fieldingin particular. 

At this moment Desmond said no more, but in the dead of night, when allwere asleep, he leaned over to the Babu's charpoy and gently nudged him. 

"Surendra Nath!" he whispered. 

"Who calls?" returned the Babu. 

"Listen. Have you yourself ever thought of escaping?"

"Peace and quietness, sir. He will hear. "

"Who?"

"The Gujarati, sir--Fuzl Khan. "

"But he doesn't understand. And if he did, what then?"

"He was the single man, positively unique, who was spared among sixattempting escape last rains. "

"They did make an attempt, then. Why was he spared?"

"That, sir, deponent knoweth not. The plot was carried to Angria. "

"How?"

"That also is dark as pitch. But Fuzl Khan was spared, that we know. Noman can trust his vis-a-vis. No man is now so bold to discuss suchmatters. "

"Is that why we are all chained up at night?"

"That, sir, is the case. It is since then our limbs are shackled. "

Desmond thought over this piece of information. He had noticed that theGujarati was left much alone by the others. They were outwardly civilenough, but they rarely spoke to him of their own accord, and sometimesthey would break off in a conversation if he appeared interested. Desmondhad put this down to the man's temper; he was a sullen fellow, with aperpetually hangdog look, occasionally breaking out in paroxysms ofviolence which cost him many a scourging from the overseer's mercilessrattan. But the attitude of his fellow prisoner was more easily explainedif the Babu's hint was well founded. They feared him. 

Yet, if he had indeed betrayed his comrades, he had gained little by histreachery. He was no favorite with the officers of the yard. They kepthim hard at work, and seemed to take a delight in harrying him. More thanonce, unjustly, as it appeared to Desmond, he had made acquaintance withthe punishment tank. In his dealings with his fellows he was morose andoffensive. A man of great physical strength, he was a match for any twoof his shed companions save the Biluchis, who, though individuallyweaker, retained something of the spirit of their race and made commoncause against him. The rest he bullied, and none more than the Bengali, whose weaklier constitution spared him the hard manual work of the yard, but whose timidity invited aggression. 

Now that the subject which constantly occupied his thoughts had beenmooted, Desmond found himself more eagerly striving to find a solution ofthe problem presented by the idea of escape. At all hours of the day, andoften when he lay in sleepless discomfort at night, his active mindrecurred to the one absorbing matter: how to regain his freedom. He hadalready canvassed the possibilities of escape by land, only to dismissthe idea as utterly impracticable; for even could he elude the vigilanceof the sentries he could not pass as a native, and the perils besettingan Englishman were not confined to Angria's territory. 

But how stood the chances of escape by sea? Could he stow himself onboard a grab or gallivat, and try to swim ashore when near some friendlyport? He put the suggestion from him as absurd. Supposing he succeeded instowing himself on an outgoing vessel, how could he know when he was neara friendly port without risking almost certain discovery? Besides, exceptin such rare cases as the visit of an interloper like the Good Intent, the Pirate did little trade. His vessels were employed mainly in dashingout on insufficiently-convoyed merchantmen. 

But the train of thought once started could not but be followed out. Whatif he could seize a grab or gallivat in the harbor? To navigate such avessel required a party, men having some knowledge of the sea. How stoodhis fellow prisoners in that respect? The Biluchis, tall wiry men, weretraders, and had several times, he knew, made the voyage from the PersianGulf to Surat. It was on one of these journeys that they had fallen intoAngria's hands. They might have picked up something of the simplerdetails of navigation. The Mysoreans, being up-country men andagriculturists, were not likely even to have seen the sea until theybecame slaves of Angria. The Marathas would be loath to embark; theybelonged to a warrior race which had for centuries lived by raiding itsneighbors; but being forbidden by their religion to eat or drink at seathey would never make good seamen. The Babu was a native of Bengal, andthe Bengalis were physically the weakest of the Indian peoples, constitutionally timid, and unenterprising in matters demanding physicalcourage. Desmond smiled as he thought of how his friend Surendra Nathmight comport himself in a storm. 

There remained the Gujarati, and of his nautical capacity Desmond knewnothing. But, mentioning the matter of seamanship casually to the Babuone day, he learned that Fuzl Khan was a khalasi {sailor} from Cutch. Hehad in him a strain of negro blood, derived probably from some Zanzibariancestor brought to Cutch as a slave. The men of the coast of Cutch werethe best sailors in India; and Fuzl Khan himself had spent a considerableportion of his life at sea. 

Thus reflecting on the qualities of his fellow captives, Desmond hadruefully to acknowledge that they would make a poor crew to navigate agrab or gallivat. Yet he could find no other, for Angria's system ofmixing the nationalities was cunningly devised to prevent any concertedschemes. If the attempt was to be made at all, it must be made with themen whom he knew intimately and with whom he had opportunities ofdiscussing a plan. 

But he was at once faced by the question of the Gujarati'strustworthiness. If there was any truth in Surendra Nath's suspicions, hewould be quite ready to betray his fellows; and if looks and manner wereany criterion, the suspicions were amply justified. True, the man hadgained nothing by his former treachery, but that might not prevent himfrom repeating it, in the hope that a second betrayal would compelreward. 

While Desmond was still pondering and puzzling, it happened oneunfortunate day that Govinda the overseer was carried off within a fewhours by what the Babu called the cramp--a disease now known as cholera. His place was immediately filled. But his successor was a very differentman. He was not so capable as Govinda, and endeavored to make up for hisincapacity by greater brutality and violence. The work of the yard felloff; he tried to mend matters by harrying the men. The whip and rattanwere in constant use, but the result was less efficiency than ever, andhe sought for the cause everywhere but in himself. The lives of thecaptives, bad enough before, became a continual torment. 

Desmond fared no better than the rest. He lost the trifling privileges hehad formerly enjoyed. The new overseer seemed to take a delight inbullying him. Many a night, when he returned to the shed, his back wasraw where the lash had cut a livid streak through his thin dhoti. Hiscompanions suffered in common with him, Fuzl Khan more than any. For daysat a time the man was incapacitated from work by the treatment meted outto him. Desmond felt that if the Gujarati had indeed purchased his lifeby betraying his comrades, he had made a dear bargain. 

One night, when his eight companions were all asleep, and nothing couldbe heard but the regular calls of the sentries, the beating of tom tomsin the town, and the howls of jackals prowling in the outskirts, Desmondgently woke the Babu. 

"My friend, listen, " he whispered, "I have something to say to you. "

Surendra Nath turned over in his charpoy. 

"Speak soft, I pray, " he said. 

"My head is on fire, " continued Desmond. "I cannot sleep. I have beenthinking. What is life worth to us? Can anything be worse than ourpresent lot? Do you ever think of escape?"

"What good, sir? I have said so before. We are fettered; what can we do?There is but one thing that all men in our plight desire; that is death. "

"Nonsense! I do not desire death. This life is hateful, but while we livethere is something to hope for, and I for one am not content to endurelifelong misery. I mean to escape. "

"It is easy to say, but the doing--that is impossible. "

"How can we tell that unless we try? The men who tried to escape did notthink it impossible. They might have succeeded--who can say?--if FuzlKhan had not betrayed them. "

"And he is still with us. He would betray us again. "

"I am not sure of that. See what he has suffered! Today his whole bodymust have writhed with pain. But for the majum {a preparation of hemp} hehas smoked and the plentiful ghi {clarified butter} we rubbed him with, he would be moaning now. I think he will be with us if we can only findout a way. You have been here longer than I; can not you help me to forma plan?"

"No, sahib; my brain is like running water. Besides, I am afraid. If wecould get rid of our fetters and escape we might have to fight. I cannotfight; I am not a man of war; I am commercial. "

"But you will help me if I can think of a plan?"

"I cannot persuade myself to promise, sahib. It is impossible. Death isthe only deliverer. "

Desmond was impatient of the man's lack of spirit. But he suffered nosign of his feeling to escape him. He had grown to have a liking for theBabu. 

"Well, I shall not give up the idea, " he said. "Perhaps I shall speak ofit to you again. "

Two nights later, in the dark and silent hours, Desmond reopened thematter. This time the conversation lasted much longer, and in the courseof it the Babu became so much interested and indeed excited that heforgot his usual caution, and spoke in a high-pitched tone that woke theBiluchi on the other side. The man hurled abuse at the disturber of hisrepose, and Surendra Nath regained his caution and relapsed into hisusual soft murmur. Desmond and he were still talking when the light ofdawn stole into the shed; but though neither had slept, they went abouttheir work during the day with unusual briskness and lightness of heart. 

That evening, after the prisoners had eaten their supper in theirrespective eating rooms, they squatted against the outer wall of the shedfor a brief rest before being locked up for the night. The Babu hadpromised to tell a story. The approaches to the yard were all guarded bythe usual sentries, and in the distance could be heard the clanking ofthe warder's keys as he went from shed to shed performing his nightlyoffice. 

"The story! the story!" said one of the Marathas impatiently. "Why dostthou tarry, Babu?"

"I have eaten, Gousla, and when the belly is full the brain is sluggish. But the balance is adjusting itself, and in a little I will begin. "

Through the farther gate came the warder. Desmond and his companions werethe last with whom he had to deal. His keys jangling, he advanced slowlybetween two Marathas armed with matchlocks and two-edged swords. 

The Babu had his back against the shed, the others were grouped abouthim, and at his left there was a vacant space. It was growing dusk. 

"Hai, worthy jailer!" said Surendra Nath pleasantly, "I was about to tellthe marvelous story of King Bhoya's golden throne. But I will even nowcheck the stream at the source. Your time is precious. My comrades mustwait until we get inside. "

"Not so, Babu, " said the warder gruffly. "Tell thy tale. Barik Allah, younine are the last of my round. I will myself wait and hear, for thou hasta ready tongue, and the learning of a pundit {learned man, teacher}, Babu, and thy stories, after the day's work, are they not as honey pouredon rice?"

"You honor me beyond my deserts. If you will deign to be seated!"

The warder marched to the vacant spot at the Babu's side, and squatteddown, crossing his legs, his heavy bunch of keys lying on the skirt ofhis dhoti. The armed Marathas stood at a little distance, leaning ontheir matchlocks, within hearing of the Babu, and at spots where theycould see anyone approaching from either end of the yard. It would not dofor the warder to be found thus by the officer of the watch. 

"It happened during the reign of the illustrious King Bhoya, " began theBabu; then he caught his breath, looking strangely nervous. 

"It is the heat, good jailer, " he said hurriedly; "--of the illustriousKing Bhoya, I said, that a poor ryot {peasant} named Yajnadatta, diggingone day in his field, found there buried the divine throne of theincomparable King Vikramaditya. When his eyes were somewhat recoveredfrom the dazzling vision, and he could gaze unblinking at the wondrousthrone, he beheld that it was resplendent with thirty-two graven images, and adorned with a multitude of jewels: rubies and diamonds, pearls andjasper, crystal and coral and sapphires. 

"Now the news of this wondrous discovery coming to the ears of KingBhoya, he incontinently caused the throne to be conveyed to his palace, and had it set in the midst of his hall of counsel that rose on columnsof gold and silver, of coral and crystal. Then the desire came upon himto sit on this throne, and calling his wise men, he bade them choose amoment of good augury, and gave order to his servitors to make all thingsready for his coronation. Whereupon his people brought curded milk, sandalwood, flowers, saffron, umbrellas, parasols, divers tails--tails ofoxen, tails of peacocks; arrows, weapons of war, mirrors and otherobjects proper to be held by wedded women--all things, indeed, meet for asolemn festival, with a well-striped tiger skin to represent the sevencontinents of the earth; nothing was wanting of all the mattersprescribed in the Shastras {holy books} for the solemn crowning of kings;and having thus fulfilled their duty, the servitors humbly acquainted hisMajesty therewith. Then when the Guru {religious teacher}, the Purohita{hereditary priest of the royal house}, the Brahmans, the wise men, thecouncilors, the officers, the soldiers, the chief captain, had entered, the august King Bhoya drew near the throne, to the end that he might beanointed. 

"But lo! the first of the carven figures that surrounded the throne thusspake and said: 'Harken, O King. That prince who is endowed withsovereign qualities; who shines before all others in wealth, inliberality, in mercy; who excels in heroism and in goodness; who is drawnby his nature to deeds of piety; who is full of might and majesty; thatprince alone is worthy to sit upon this throne--no other, no meanersovereign, is worthy. Harken, O King, to the story of the throne. '"

"Go on, Babu, " said the jailer, as the narrator paused; "what said thegraven image?"

"'There once lived, '" continued the Babu, "'in the city of Avanti, aking, Bartrihari by name. Having come to recognize the vanity of earthlythings, this king one day left his throne and went as a jogi {ascetic}afar into the desert. His kingdom, being then without a head--for he hadno sons, and his younger brother, the illustrious Vikramaditya, wastraveling in far lands--fell into sore disorder, so that thieves andevildoers increased from day to day. 

"'The wise men in their trouble sought diligently for a child having thesigns of royalty, and in due time, having found one, Xatrya by name, theygave the kingdom into his charge. But in that land there dwelt a mightyjin {evil spirit}, Vetala Agni {spirit of fire}, who, when he heard ofwhat the wise men had done, came forth on the night of the same day theyoung king had been enthroned and slew him and departed. And it befellthat each time the councilors found a new king, lo, the Vetala Agni cameforth and slew him. 

"'Now upon a certain day, when the wise men, in sore trouble of heart, were met in council, there appeared among them the illustriousVikramaditya, newly returned from long travel, who, when he had heardwhat was toward, said:

"'"O ye wise men and faithful, make me king without ado. "

"'And the wise men, seeing that Vikramaditya was worthy of that dignitythus spake:

"'"From this day, O excellency, thou art king of the realm of Avanti. "

"'Having in this fashion become king of Avanti, Vikramaditya busiedhimself all that day with the affairs of his kingdom, tasting the sweetsof power; and at the fall of night he prepared, against the visit of theVetala Agni, great store of heady liquors, all kinds of meat, fish, bread, confections, rice boiled with milk and honey, sauces, curded milk, butter refined, sandalwood, bouquets and garlands, divers sorts ofsweet-scented things; and all these he kept in his palace, and himselfremained therein, reclining in full wakefulness upon his fairest bed. 

"'Then into this palace came the Vetala Agni, sword in hand, and wentabout to slay the august Vikramaditya. But the king said:

"'"Harken, O Vetala Agni; seeing that thy Excellency has come for tocause me to perish, it is not doubtful that thou wilt succeed in thypurpose; albeit, all these viands thou dost here behold have been broughttogether for thy behoof; eat, then, whatsoever thou dost find worthy;afterwards thou shalt work thy will. "

"'And the Vetala Agni, having heard these words, filled himself with thisgreat store of food, and, marvelously content with the king, said untohim:

"'"Truly I am content, and well disposed towards thee, and I give theethe realm of Avanti; sit thou in the highest place and taste its joys;but take heed of one thing: every day shalt thou prepare for me a repastlike unto this. "

"'With these words, the Vetala Agni departed from that spot and betookhim into his own place. 

"'Then for a long space did Vikramaditya diligently fulfill that command;but by and by, growing aweary of feeding the Vetala Agni, he soughtcounsel of the jogi Trilokanatha, who had his dwelling on the mount ofKanahakrita. The jogi, perceiving the manifold merits of the incomparableVikramaditya, was moved with compassion towards him, and when he had longmeditated and recited sundry mantras {hymns and prayers}, he thus spakeand said:

"'"Harken, O King. From the sacred tank of Shakravatar spring alleys fourtimes seven, as it were branches from one trunk, to wit, seven to thenorth, seven to the east, seven to the west, and seven to the south. Ofthe seven alleys springing to the north do you choose the seventh, and inthe seventh alley the seventh tree from the sacred tank, and on theseventh branch of the seventh tree thou shalt find the nest of a bulbul. Within that nest thou shalt discover a golden key. "'"

The Babu was now speaking very slowly, and an observer watching Desmondwould have perceived that his eyes were fixed with a strange look ofmingled eagerness and anxiety upon the storyteller. But no one observedthis; every man in the group was intent upon the story, hanging upon thelips of the eloquent Babu. 

"'Having obtained the golden key, '" continued the narrator, "'thou shaltreturn forthwith to thy palace, and the same night, when the Vetala Angihas eaten and drunk his fill, thou shalt in his presence lay the key uponthe palm of thy left hand, thus--'" (here the Babu quietly took up a keyhanging from the bunch attached to the warder's girdle, and laid it uponhis left palm). "'Then shalt thou say to the Vetala:

"'"O illustrious Vetala, tell me, I pray thee, what doth this golden keyunlock?"

"'Then if the aspect of the Vetala be fierce, fear not, for he must needsreply: such is the virtue of the key; and by his words thou shalt directthy course. Verily it is for such a trial that the gods have endowed theewith wisdom beyond the common lot of men. 

"'Vikramaditya performed in all points the jogi's bidding; and having inthe presence of the Vetala laid the golden key upon the palm of his hand, a voice within bade him ask the question:

"'"O Vetala, what art thou apt to do? What knowest thou?"

"'And the Vetala answered:

"'"All that I have in my mind, that I am apt to perform. I know allthings. "

"'And the king said:

"'"Speak, then; what is the number of my years?"

"'And the Vetala answered:

"'"The years of thy life are a hundred. "

"'Then said the king:

"'"I am troubled because in the tale of my years there are two gaps;grant me, then, one year in excess of a hundred, or from the hundred takeone. "

"'And the Vetala answered:

"'"O King, thou art in the highest degree good, liberal, merciful, just, lord of thyself, and honored of gods and of Brahmans; the measure of joysthat are ordained to fill thy life is full; to add anything thereto, totake anything therefrom, are alike impossible. "

"'Having heard these words, the king was satisfied, and the Vetaladeparted unto his own place. 

"'Upon the night following the king prepared no feast against the comingof the Vetala, but girt himself for fight. The Vetala came, and seeingnothing in readiness for the repast, but, on the contrary, all thingsrequisite to a combat, he waxed wroth and said:

"'"O wicked and perverse king, why hast thou made ready nothing for mypleasure this night?"

"'And the king answered: "Since thou canst neither add to my length ofyears, nor take anything therefrom, why should I make ready a repast forthee continually and without profit?"

"'The Vetala made answer:

"'"Ho--'tis thus that thou speakest! Now, truly, come fight with me; thisnight will I devour thee. "

"'At these words the king rose up in wrath to smite the Vetala, and heldhim in swift and dexterous combat for a brief space. And the Vetala, having thus made proof of the might and heroism of the king, and beingsatisfied, spake and said:

"'"O King, thou art mighty indeed; I am content with thy valor; now, then, ask me what thou wilt. "

"'And the king answered:

"'"Seeing that thou art well-disposed towards me, grant me this grace, that when I call thee, thou wilt in that same instant stand at my side. "

"'And the Vetala, having granted this grace to the king, departed untohis own place. '"

The Babu waved his hands as a sign that the story was ended. He was dampwith perspiration, and in his glance at Desmond there was a kind offurtive appeal for approval. 

"Thou speakest well, Babu, " said the warder. "But what befell King Bhoyawhen the graven image had thus ended his saying?"

"That, good jailer, is another story, and if you please to hear itanother night, I will do my poor best to satisfy you. "

"Well, the hour is late. "

The warder rose to his feet and resumed his official gruffness. 

"Come, rise; it is time I locked your fetters; and, in good sooth, mineis no golden key. "

He chuckled as he watched the prisoners file one by one into the shed. Following them, he quickly locked each in turn to his staple in the walland went out, bolting and double-locking the door behind him. 

"You did well, my friend, " whispered Desmond in English to the Babu. 

"My heart flutters like the wing of a bulbul, " answered the Babu; "but Iam content, sahib. "

"But say, Surendra Nath, " remarked one of the Maratha captives, "lasttime you told us that story you said nothing of the golden key. "

"Ah!" replied the Babu, "you are thinking of the story told by the secondgraven image in King Vikramaditya's throne. I will tell you thattomorrow. "

Chapter 12: In which our hero is offered freedom at the price of honor; andMr. Diggle finds that others can quote Latin on occasion. 

Next morning, when Desmond left the shed with his fellow prisoners, hetook with him, secreted in a fold of his dhoti, a small piece of clay. Ithad been given him overnight by the Babu. An hour or two later, happeningto be for a moment alone in the tool shop, he took out the clay andexamined it carefully. It was a moment for which he had waited and longedwith feverish impatience. The clay was a thin strip, oval in shape, andslightly curved. In the middle of it was the impression, faint but clear, of a key. A footstep approaching, he concealed the clay again in hisgarment, and, when a workman entered, was busily plying a chisel upon adeal plank. 

Before he left the tool shop, he secreted with the clay a scrap of steeland a small file. That day, and for several days after, whenever chancegave him a minute or two apart from his fellow workmen, he employed theprecious moments in diligently filing the steel to the pattern on theclay. It was slow work: all too tedious for his eager thought. But heworked at his secret task with unfailing patience, and at the week's endhad filed the steel to the likeness of the wards of a key. 

That night, when his "co-mates in exile" were asleep, he gently insertedthe steel in the lock of his ankle band. He tried to turn it. It stuckfast; the wards did not fit. He was not surprised. Before he made theexperiment he had felt that it would fail; the key was indeed a clumsy, ill-shapen instrument. But next day he began to work on another piece ofsteel, and on this he spent every spare minute he could snatch. This timehe found himself able to work faster. Night and morning he lookedsearchingly at the key on the warder's bunch, and afterward tried to cutthe steel to the pattern that was now, as it were, stamped upon hisbrain. 

He wished he could test his second model in the morning light before thewarder came, and correct it then. But to do so would involve discovery byhis fellow captives; the time to take them into his confidence was notyet. He had perforce to wait till dead of night before he could tellwhether the changes, more and more delicate and minute, made upon his keyduring the day were effective. And the Babu was fretful; having done hispart admirably, as Desmond told him, in working the key into his story, he seemed to expect that the rest would be easy, and did not make accountof the long labor of the file. 

At length a night came when, inserting the key in the lock, Desmond feltit turn easily. Success at last! As he heard the click, he felt anextraordinary sense of elation. Quietly unclasping the fetter, he removedit from his ankle, and stood free. If it could be called free--to be shutup in a locked and barred shed in the heart of one of the strongestfortresses in Hindostan! But at least his limbs were at liberty. What aworld of difference there was between that and his former state!

Should he inform the Babu? He felt tempted to do so, for it was toSurendra Nath's ingenuity in interpolating the incident of the key into awell-known story that he owed the clay pattern of the warder's key. ButSurendra Nath was excitable; he was quite capable of uttering a yell ofdelight that would waken the other men and force a premature disclosure. Desmond decided to wait for a quiet moment next day before telling theBabu of his success. So he replaced his ankle band, locked the catch, andlay down to the soundest and most refreshing sleep he had enjoyed formany a night. 

He had only just reached the workshop next morning when a peon came witha message that Angria Rho {a chief or prince} required his instantattendance at the palace. He began to quake in spite of himself. Couldthe prince have discovered already that the lock of his fetters had beentampered with? Desmond could scarcely believe it. He had made his firsttest in complete darkness; nothing had broken the silence save the onemomentary click; and the warder, when he unloosed him, had not examinedthe lock. What if he were searched and the precious key were found uponhim? It was carefully hidden in a fold of his dhoti. There was noopportunity of finding another hiding place for it; he must go as he wasand trust that suspicion had not been aroused. But it was with agalloping pulse that he followed the peon out of the dockyard, within thewalls of the fort, and into the hall where he had had his first interviewwith the Pirate. 

His uneasiness was hardly allayed when he saw that Angria was in companywith Diggle. Both were squatting on the carpeted dais; no other personwas in the room. Having ushered him in, the peon withdrew, and Desmondwas alone with the two men he had most cause to fear. Diggle was smiling, Angria's eyes were gleaming, his mobile lips working as with impatience, if not anxiety. 

The Pirate spoke quickly, imperiously. 

"You have learnt our tongue, Firangi {originally applied by the nativesto the Portuguese, then to any European} boy?" he said. 

"I have done my best, huzur, " replied Desmond in Urdu. 

"That is well. Now harken to what I say. You have pleased me; my jamadar{head servant} speaks well of you; but you are my slave, and, if I willit, you will always be my slave. You would earn your freedom?"

"I am in your august hands, huzur, " said Desmond diplomatically. 

"You may earn your freedom in one way, " continued Angria in the samerapid, impatient tone. "My scouts report that an English fleet has passedup the coast towards Bombay. My spies tell me that in Bombay a largeforce is collected under the command of that sur ka batcha {son of a pig}Clive. But I cannot learn the purpose of this armament. The dogs maythink, having taken my fortress of Suwarndrug, to come and attack mehere. Or they may intend to proceed against the French at Hyderabad. Itis not convenient for me to remain in this uncertainty. You will go toBombay and learn these things of which I am in ignorance and come againand tell me. I will then set you free. "

"I cannot do it, huzur. "

Desmond's reply came without a moment's hesitation. To act as a spy uponhis own countrymen--how could Angria imagine that an English boy wouldever consent to win his freedom on such terms?

His simple words roused the Maratha to fury. He sprang to his feet andangrily addressed Diggle, who had also risen, and stood at his side, still smiling. Diggle replied to his vehement words in a tone too low forDesmond to catch what he said. Angria turned to the boy again. 

"I will not only set you free; I will give you half a lakh of rupees; youshall have a place at my court, or, if you please, I will recommend youto another prince in whose service you may rise to wealth and honor. Ifyou refuse, I shall kill you; no, I shall not kill you, for death issweet to a slave; I shall inflict on you the tortures I reserve for thosewho provoke my anger; you shall lose your ears, your nose, and--"

Diggle again interposed. 

"Pardon me, bhai {brother}, " Desmond heard him say, "that is hardly theway to deal with a boy of my nation. If you will deign to leave him tome, I think that in a little I shall find means to overcome hishesitation. "

"But even then, how can I trust the boy? He may give his word to escapeme; then betray me to his countrymen. I have no faith in the Firangi. "

"Believe me, if he gives his word he will keep it. That is the way withus. "

"It is not your way. "

"I am no longer of them, " said Diggle with consummate aplomb. "Dismisshim now; I shall do my best with him. "

"Then you must hasten. I give you three days: if within that time he hasnot consented, I shall do to him all that I have said, and more also. "

"I do not require three days to make up my mind, " said Desmond quietly. "I cannot do what--"

"Hush, you young fool!" cried Diggle angrily in English. 

Turning to the Pirate he added: "The boy is as stiff-necked as a pig; buteven a pig can be led if you ring his snout. I beg you leave him to me. "

"Take him away!" exclaimed Angria, clapping his hands. 

Two attendants came in answer to his summons, and Desmond was led off andescorted by them to his workshop. 

Angry and disgusted as he was with both the Maratha and Diggle, he wasstill more anxious at this unexpected turn in his affairs. He had butthree days! If he had not escaped before the fourth day dawned, his fatewould be the most terrible that could befall a living creature. Thetender mercies of the wicked are cruel! He had seen, among the prisoners, some of the victims of Angria's cruelty; they had suffered tortures tooterrible to be named, and dragged out a life of unutterable degradationand misery, longing for death as a blissful end. With his quickimagination he already felt the hands of the torturers upon him; and forall the self control which his life in Gheria had induced, he was forsome moments so wholly possessed by terror that he could scarcely endurethe consciousness of existence. 

But when the first tremors were past, and he began to go about his usualtasks, and was able to think calmly, not for an instant did he waver inhis resolve. Betray his countrymen! It was not to be thought of. Give hisword to Angria and then forswear himself! Ah! even Diggle knew that hewould not do that. Freedom, wealth, a high place in some prince's court!He would buy none of them at the price of his honor. Diggle was false, unspeakably base; let him do Angria's work if he would; Desmond Burkewould never stoop to it. 

He scarcely argued the matter explicitly with himself: it was settled inAngria's presence by his instinctive repulsion. But it was not in a boylike Desmond, young, strong, high spirited, tamely to fold his handsbefore adverse fate. He had three days: it would go hard with him if hedid not make good use of them. He felt a glow of thankfulness that thefirst step, and that a difficult one, had been taken, providentially, asit seemed, the very night before this crisis in his fate. His future planhad already outlined itself; it was necessary first to gain over hiscompanions in captivity; that done, he hoped within the short periodallowed him to break prison and turn his back forever on this place ofhorror. 

It seemed to his eager impatience that that day would never end. It wasNovember, and the beginning of the cold season, and the work of thedockyard, being urgent, was carried on all day without the usual breakduring the hot middle hours, so that he found no opportunity ofconsulting his fellows. Further, the foremen of the yard were speciallyactive. The Pirate had been for some time fearful lest the capture ofSuwarndrug should prove to be the prelude to an assault upon his strongerfort and headquarters at Gheria, and to meet the danger he had had ninenew vessels laid down. Three of them had been finished, but the work hadbeen much interrupted by the rains, and the delay in the completion ofthe remaining six had irritated him. He had visited his displeasure uponthe foremen. After his interview with Desmond he summoned them to hispresence and threatened them with such dire punishment if the work wasnot more rapidly pushed on, that they had used the lash more furiouslyand with even less discrimination than ever. Consequently when Desmondmet his companions in the shed at night he found them all in desperateindignation and rage. He had seen nothing more of Diggle; he must strikewhile the iron was hot. 

When they were locked in, and all was quiet outside, the prisoners gavevent, each in his own way, to their feelings. For a time Desmondlistened, taking no part in their lamentation and cursing. But when thetide of impotent fury ebbed, and there was a lull, he said quietly:

"Are my brothers dogs that, suffering these things, they merely whine?"

The quiet level tones, so strangely contrasting with the tones offierceness and hate that were still ringing in the ears of the unhappyprisoners, had an extraordinary effect. There was dead silence in theshed: it seemed that every man was afraid to speak. Then one of theMarathas said in a whisper:

"What do you mean, sahib?"

"What do I mean? Surely it must be clear to any man. Have we not sat longenough on the carpet of patience?"

Again the silence remained for a space unbroken. 

"You, Gulam Mahomed, " continued Desmond, addressing one of the Biluchiswhom he considered the boldest--"have you never thought of escape?"

"Allah knows!" said the man in an undertone. "But He knows that Iremember what happened a year ago. Fuzl Khan can tell the sahib somethingabout that. "

A fierce cry broke from the Gujarati, who had been moaning under hischarpoy in anguish from the lashings he had undergone that day. Desmondheard him spring up; but if he had meant to attack the Biluchi, theclashing of his fetters reminded him of his helplessness. He cursed theman, demanding what he meant. 

"Nothing, " returned Gulam Mahomed. "But you were the only man, Allahknows, who escaped the executioner. "

"Pig, and son of a pig!" cried Fuzl Khan, "I knew nothing of the plot. Ifany man says I did he lies. They did it without me; some evil jin musthave heard their whisperings. They failed. They were swine of Canarese. "

"Do not let us quarrel, " said Desmond. "We are all brothers inmisfortune; we ought to be as close knit as the strands of a rope. Hereis our brother Fuzl Khan, the only man of his gang who did not try toescape, and see how he is treated! Could he be worse misused? Would notdeath be a boon?

"Is it not so, Fuzl Khan?"

The Gujarati assented with a passionate cry. 

"As for the rest of us, it is only a matter of time. I am the youngest ofyou, and not the hardest worked, yet I feel that the strain of our toilis wearing me out. What must it be with you? You are dying slowly. If wemake an attempt to escape and fail we shall die quickly, that is all thedifference. What is to be is written, is it not so, Shaik Abdullah?"

"Even so, sahib, " replied the second Biluchi, "it is written. Who canescape his fate?"

"And what do you say, Surendra Nath?"

"The key, sahib, " whispered the Babu in English; "what of the key?"

"Speak in Urdu, Babu, " said Desmond quickly. "Don't agree at once. "

Surendra Nath was quick witted; he perceived that Desmond did not wishthe others to suspect that there had been any confidences between them. 

"I am a coward, the sahib knows, " he said in Urdu. "I could not giveblows; I should die. It was told us today that the English are about toattack this fort. They will set us free; we need run no risks. "

"Wah!" exclaimed one of the Mysoreans. "If the Firangi get into the fort, we shall all be murdered. "

"That is truth, " said a Maratha. "The Rho would have our throats cut atonce. "

The Babu groaned. 

"You see, Surendra Nath, it is useless to wait in the hope of help frommy countrymen, " said Desmond. "If there is fighting to be done, we can doall that is needed: is it not so, my brothers? As for you, Babu, if youwould sooner die without--well, there is nothing to prevent you. "

"If the sahib does not wish me to fight, it is well. But has the sahib aplan?"

"Yes, I have a plan. "

He paused; there was sound of hard breathing. 

"Tell it us, " said the Gujarati eagerly. 

"You are one of us, Fuzl Khan?"

"The plan! the plan! Is not my back mangled? Have I not endured the tank?Is not freedom sweet to me as to another? The plan, sahib! I swear, IFuzl Khan, to be true to you and all; only tell me the plan. "

"You shall have the plan in good time. First I have a thing to say. Whena battle is to be fought, no soldier fights only for himself, doing thatwhich seems good to him alone. He looks to the captain for orders. Otherwise mistakes would be made, and all effort would be wasted. We musthave a captain: who is he to be?"

"Yourself, sahib, " said the Gujarati at once. "You have spoken; you havethe plan; we take you as leader. "

"You hear what Fuzl Khan says. Do you all agree?"

The others assented eagerly. Then Desmond told his wondering hearers thesecret of the key, and during several hours of that quiet night hediscussed with them in whispers the details of the scheme which he hadworked out. At intervals the sentry passed and flashed his light throughthe opening in the wall; but at these moments every man was lyingmotionless upon his charpoy, and not a sound was audible save a snore. 

Next day when Desmond, having finished his midday meal of rice andmangoes, had returned to his workshop, Diggle sauntered in. 

"Ah, my young friend, " he said in his quiet voice and with his usualsmile, "doubtless you have expected a visit from me. Night bringscounsel. I did not visit you yesterday, thinking that after sleeping overthe amiable and generous proposition made to you by my friend Angria youwould view it in another light. I trust that during the nocturnal hoursyou have come to perceive the advantages of choosing the discreet part. Let us reason together. "

There were several natives with them in the workshop, but none of themunderstood English, and the two Englishmen could talk at ease. 

"Reason!" said Desmond in reply to Diggle's last sentence. "If you aregoing to talk of what your pirate friend spoke of yesterday, it is merewaste of time. I shall never agree. "

"Words, my young friend, mere words! You will be one of us yet. You willnever have such a chance again. Why, in a few years you will be able toreturn to England, if you will, a rich man, a very nawab {governor}. Myfriend Angria has his faults; nemo est sine culpa: but he is at leastgenerous. An instance! The man who took the chief part in the capture ofthe Dutchman two years ago--what is he now? A naib {deputy governor}, aman of wealth, of high repute at the Nizam's court. There is no reasonwhy you should not follow so worthy an example; cut out an Indiaman ortwo, and Desmond Burke may, if he will, convey a shipload of preciousthings to the shores of Albion, and enjoy his leisured dignity on alanded estate of his own. He shall drive a coach while his oaf of abrother perspires behind a plow. "

Desmond was silent. Diggle watched him keenly, and after a slight pausecontinued:

"This is no great thing that is asked of you. You sail on one of Angria'sgrabs; you are set upon the shore; you enter Bombay with a likely storyof escape from the fortress of the Pirate; you are a hero, the boonfellow of the men, the pet of the ladies--for there are ladies in Bombay, forma praestante puellae. In a week you know everything, all the purposesthat Angria's spies have failed to discover. One day you disappear; theladies wail and tear their hair; a tiger has eaten you; in a week youwill be forgotten. But you are back in Angria's fortress, no longer aslave, downtrodden and despised; but a free man, a rich man, a potentateto be. Is it not worth thinking of, my young friend, especially when youremember the other side of the picture? It is a dark side; an unpleasantside; even, let me confess, horrible: I prefer to keep it to the wall. "

He waved his gloved hand, deprecatingly, watching Desmond with the sameintentness. The boy was dumb: he might also have been deaf. Diggle drewfrom his fob an elaborately chased snuffbox and took a pinch of finerappee, Desmond mechanically noticing that the box bore ornamentation ofDutch design. 

"If I were not your friend, " continued Diggle, "I might say that yourattitude is one of sheer obstinacy. Why not trust us? You see we trustyou. I stand pledged for you with Angria; but I flatter myself I know aman when I see one: si fractus illabitur orbis--you have already shownyour mettle. Of course I understand your scruples; I was young myselfonce; I know the generous impulses that rule the hearts of youth. Butthis is a matter that must be decided, not by feeling, but by hard factand cold reason. Who benefits by your scruples? A set of hard-livingmoney grubbers in Bombay who fatten on the oppression of the ryot, whotithe mint and anise and cumin, who hoard up treasure which they willtake back with their jaundiced livers to England, there to become peststo society with their splenetic and domineering tempers. What's theCompany to you, or you to the Company? Why, Governor Pitt was aninterloper; and your own father: yes, he was an interloper, and aninterloper of the best. "

"But not a pirate, " said Desmond hotly, his scornful silence yielding atlast. 

"True, true, " said Diggle suavely; "but in the Indies, you see, we don'tdraw fine distinctions. We are all bucaneers in a sense; some with thesword, others the ledger. Throw in your lot frankly with me; I will standyour friend. "

"You are wasting your breath and your eloquence, " interrupted Desmondfirmly, "and even if I were tempted to agree, as I never could be, Ishould remember who is talking to me. "

Then he added with a whimsical smile, "Come, Mr. Diggle, you are fond ofquotations; I am not; but there's one I remember--'I fear the Greeks, though'--"

"You young hound!" cried Diggle, his sallow face becoming purple. Hisanger, it seemed to Desmond afterwards reflecting on it, was out ofproportion to the cause of offense. "You talk of my eloquence. By heaven, when I see you again I shall use it otherwise. You shall hear somethingof how Angria wreaks his vengeance; you shall have a foretaste of thesweets in store for an obstinate, recalcitrant pig-headed fool!"

He strode away, leaving Desmond a prey to the gloomiest anticipations. 

That evening, when the prisoners were squatting outside the shed for theusual hour of talk before being locked up for the night, a new featurewas added to the entertainment. One of the Marathas had somehow possessedhimself of a tom tom, and proved himself an excellent performer on thatweird instrument. While he tapped its sides, his fellow Maratha, in astrange hard tuneless voice, chanted a song, repeating its single stanzaagain and again without apparently wearying his hearers, and clapping hishand to mark the time. 

It was a song about a banya {merchant} with a beautiful youngdaughter-in-law, whom he appointed to deal out the daily handful of flourexpected as alms by every beggar who passed his door. Her hands beingmuch smaller than his own, he pleased himself with the idea that, withoutlosing his reputation for charity, he would give away through her muchless grain than if he himself performed the charitable office. But itturned out bad thrift, for so beautiful was she that she attracted to thedoor not only the genuine beggars, but also many, both young and old, whohad disguised themselves in mendicant rags for the mere pleasure ofbeholding her and getting from her a smile and a gentle word. 

It was a popular song, and the warder himself was tempted to stay andlisten until, the hour for locking up being past, he at last recollectedhis duty and bundled the prisoners into the shed. 

"Sing inside if you must, " he said, "but not too loud, lest the overseercome with the bamboo. "

Inside the shed, reclining on their charpoys, the men continued theirperformance, changing their song, though not, as it seemed to Desmond, the tune. He, however, was perhaps not sufficiently attentive to themonotonous strains; for, as soon as the warder had left the yard, he hadunlocked his fetters and begun to work in the darkness. Poised on one ofthe rafters, he held on with one hand to a joist, and with the otherplied a small saw, well greased with ghi. The sound of the slow carefulmovements of the tool was completely drowned by the singing and thehollow rat-a-pan of the tom tom. Beneath him stood the Babu, extendinghis dhoti like an apron, and catching in it the falling shower ofsawdust. 

Suddenly the figure on the rafter gave a low whistle. Through the windowhe had seen the dim form of the sentry outside approach the space lightedby the rays from the lantern, which he had laid down at a corner of theshed. Before the soldier had time to lift it and throw a beam into theshed (which he did as much from curiosity to see the untiring performersas in the exercise of his duty) Desmond had swung down from his perch andstretched himself upon the nearest charpoy. The Babu meanwhile had dartedwith his folded dhoti to the darkest corner. When the sentry peered in, the two performing Marathas were sitting up; the rest were lying prone, to all appearance soothed to sleep. 

"Verily thou wilt rap a hole in the tom tom, " said the sentry with agrin. "Better save a little of it for tomorrow. "

"Sleep is far from my eyes, " replied the man. "My comrades are all atrest; if it does not offend thee--"

"No. Tap till it burst, for me. But without sleep the work will be hardin the morning. "

He went away. Instantly the two figures were again upon their feet, andthe sawing recommenced. For three hours the work continued, interruptedat intervals by the visits of the sentry. Midnight was past beforeDesmond, with cramped limbs and aching head, gave the word for the songand accompaniment to cease, and the shed was in silence. 

Chapter 13: In which Mr. Diggle illustrates his argument; and there arestrange doings in Gheria harbor. 

The morning of the third day dawned--the last of the three allowedDesmond for making up his mind. When the other prisoners were loosed fromtheir fetters and marched off under guard to their usual work, he alonewas left. Evidently he was to be kept in confinement with a view toquickening his resolution. Some hours passed. About midday he heardfootsteps approaching the shed. The door was opened, and in the entranceDiggle appeared. 

"You will excuse me, " he said with a sniff, "if I remain on the thresholdof your apartment. It is, I fear, but imperfectly aired. "

He pulled a charpoy to the door, and sat down upon it, as much outside aswithin. Taking out his snuffbox, he tapped it, took a pinch, savored it, and added:

"You will find the apartment prepared for you in my friend Angria'spalace somewhat sweeter than this your present abode--somewhat morecommodious also. "

Desmond, reclining at a distance, looked his enemy calmly and steadily inthe face. 

"If you have come, Mr. Diggle, " he said, "merely to repeat what you saidyesterday, let me say at once that it is a waste of breath. I have notchanged my mind. "

"No, not to repeat, my young friend. Crambe repetita--you know thephrase? Yesterday I appealed, in what I had to say, to your reason;either my appeal, or your reason, was at fault. Today I have anotherpurpose. 'Tis pity to come down to a lower plane; to appeal to the moreignoble part of man; but since you have not yet cut your wisdom teeth Imust e'en accommodate myself. Angria is my friend; but there are moments, look you, when the bonds of our friendship are put to a heavy strain. Atthose moments Angria is perhaps most himself, and I, perhaps, am mostmyself; which might prove to a philosopher that there is a radicalantagonism between the oriental and the occidental character. Since mypicture of the brighter side has failed to impress you, I propose to showyou the other side--such is the sincerity of my desire for your welfare. And 'tis no empty picture--inanis imago, as Ovid might say--no, 'tissheer reality, speaking, terrible. "

He turned and beckoned. In a moment Desmond heard the clank of chains, and by and by, at the entrance of the shed, stood a figure at sight ofwhom his blood ran cold. It was the bent, thin, broken figure of a Hindu, his thin bare legs weighted with heavy irons. Ears, nose, upper lip weregone; his eyes were lit with the glare of madness; the parched skin ofhis hollow cheeks was drawn back, disclosing a grinning mouth and yellowteeth. His arms and legs were like sticks; both hands had lost theirthumbs, his feet were twisted, straggling wisps of gray hair escaped fromhis turban. Standing there beside Diggle, he began to mop and mow, uttering incomprehensible gibberish. 

Diggle waved him away. 

"That, my dear boy, illustrates the darker side of Angria'scharacter--the side which forbids me to call Angria unreservedly myfriend. A year ago that man was as straight as you; he had all his organsand dimensions; he was rich, and of importance in his little world. Today--but you have seen him: it boots not to attempt in words to saywhat the living image has already said. 

"And within twenty-four hours, unless you come to a better mind, even asthat man is, so will you be. "

He rose slowly to his feet, bending upon Desmond a look of mournfulinterest and compassion. Desmond had stood all but transfixed withhorror. But as Diggle now prepared to leave him, the boy flushed hot; hisfists clenched; his eyes flashed with indignation. 

"You fiend!" was all he said. 

Diggle smiled, and sauntered carelessly away. 

That night, when the prisoners were brought as usual to the shed, andwarder and sentries were out of earshot, Desmond told them what he hadseen. 

"It must be tonight, my brothers, " he said in conclusion. "We have nolonger time. Before sunrise tomorrow we must be out of this evil place. We must work, work, for life and liberty. "

This night again the singer sang untiringly, the tom tom accompanying himwith its weird hollow notes. And in the blackness, Desmond worked as hehad never worked before, plying his saw hour after hour, never forgettinghis caution, running no risks when he had warning of the sentry'sapproach. And hour after hour the shower of sawdust fell noiselessly intoBabu's outspread dhoti. Then suddenly the beating of the tom tom ceased, the singer's voice died away on a lingering wail, and the silence of thenight was unbroken save by the melancholy howl of a distant jackal, andthe call of sentry to sentry as at intervals they went their rounds. 

At midnight the guard was relieved. The newcomer--a tall, thin, lankyMaratha--arriving at Desmond's shed, put his head in at the little windowspace, and flashed his lantern from left to right more carefully than theman whom he had just replaced. The nine forms lay flat or curled up ontheir charpoys--all was well. 

Coming back an hour later, he fancied he heard a slight sound within theshed. He went to the window and peered in, flashing his lantern beforehim from left to right. But as he did so, he felt upon his throat a gripas of steel. He struggled to free himself; his cry was stifled ere it wasuttered; his matchlock fell with a clatter to the ground. He was like achild in the hands of his captor, and when the Gujarati in a fierce lowwhisper said to him: "Yield, hound, or I choke you!" his struggle ceasedand he stood trembling in sweat. 

But now came the sentries' call, passed from man to man around thecircuit of the fort. 

"Answer the call!" whispered the Gujarati, with a significant squeeze ofthe man's windpipe. 

When his turn arrived, the sentry took up the word, but it was a thinquavering call that barely reached the next man a hundred yards away. 

While this brief struggle had been going on, a light figure within theshed had mounted to the rafters and, gently feeling for and twistinground a couple of wooden pins, handed down to his companions below asection of the roof some two feet square, which had been kept in itsplace only by these temporary supports. The wood was placed silently onthe floor. Then the figure above crawled out upon the roof, and lethimself down by the aid of a rope held by the two Biluchis within. 

It was a pitch-dark night; nothing broke the blackness save the scatteredpoints of light from the sentries' lanterns. Stepping to the side of thehalf-garroted Maratha, who was leaning passively against the shed, thesinewy hand of the Gujarati still pressing upon his windpipe, Desmondthrust a gag into his mouth and with quick deft movements bound hishands. Now he had cause to thank the destiny that had made him Bulger'sshipmate; he had learned from Bulger how to tie a sailor's knot. 

Scarcely had he bound the sentry's hands when he was joined by one of hisfellow prisoners, and soon seven of them stood with him in the shadow ofthe shed. The last man, the Gujarati, had held the rope while the Babudescended. There was no one left to hold the rope for him, but he swunghimself up to the roof and climbed down on the shoulders of one of theBiluchis. Meanwhile the sentry, whose lantern had been extinguished andfrom the folds of whose garments its flint and tinderbox had been taken, had now been completely trussed up, and lay helpless and perforce silentagainst the wall of the shed. From the time when the hapless man firstfelt the grip of the Gujarati upon his throat scarcely five minutes hadelapsed. 

Now the party of nine moved in single file, swiftly and silently on theirbare feet, under the wall of the fort toward the northeast bastion, gliding like phantoms in the gloom. Each man bore his burden: the Babucarried the dark lantern; one of the Marathas the coil of rope; the otherthe sentry's matchlock and ammunition; several had small bundlescontaining food, secreted during the past three days from their rations. 

Suddenly the leader stopped. They had reached the foot of the narrowflight of steps leading up into the bastion. Just above them was asentinel. The pause was but for a moment. The plan of action had beenthought out and discussed. On hands and knees the Gujarati crept up thesteps; at his heels followed Desmond in equal stealth and silence. At thetop, hardly distinguishable from the blackness of the sky, the sentinelwas leaning against the parapet, looking out to sea. Many a night had heheld that post, and seen the stars, and listened to the rustle of thesurf; many a night he had heard the call of the sentry next below, andpassed it to the man on the bastion beyond; but never a night had he seenanything but the stars and the dim forms of vessels in the harbor, heardanything but the hourly call of his mates and the eternal voice of thesea. 

He was listless, bemused. What was it, then, that made him suddenlyspring erect? What gave him that strange uneasiness? He had heardnothing, seen nothing, yet he faced round, and stood at the head of thesteps with his back to the sea. The figures prone below him felt that hewas looking toward them. They held their breath. Both were on the topmoststep but one; only a narrow space separated them from the sentinel; theycould hear the movement of his jaws as he chewed a betel {nut of theareca palm wrapped in the leaf of the betel plant}. 

Thus a few moments passed. Desmond's pulse beat in a fever of impatience;every second was precious. Then the sentinel moved; his uneasiness seemedto be allayed; he began to hum a Maratha camp song, and, half turning, glanced once more out to the sea. 

The moment was come. Silently Fuzl Khan rose to his feet; he sprangforward with the lightness, the speed, the deadly certainty of a Thug{name of a class of hereditary stranglers}, his hand was on the man'sthroat. Desmond, close behind, had a gag ready, but there was no need touse it. In the open the Gujarati could exert his strength more freelythan through the narrow windows of the shed. Almost before Desmondreached his side the sentinel was dead. 

In that desperate situation there was no time to expostulate. While theGujarati laid the hapless man gently beside the gun that peeped throughthe embrasure of the parapet, Desmond picked up the sentinel's matchlock, ran softly back, and summoned his companions. They came silently up thesteps. To fasten the rope securely to the gun carriage was the work of afew instants; then the Gujarati mounted the parapet, and, swarming downthe rope, sank into the darkness. One by one the men followed; it came tothe Babu's turn. Trembling with excitement and fear he shrank back. 

"I am afraid, sahib, " he said. 

Without hesitation Desmond drew up the rope and looped the end. 

"Get into the loop, " he whispered. 

The Babu trembled but obeyed, and, assisting him to climb the parapet, Desmond lowered him slowly to the foot of the wall. Then he himselfdescended last of all, and on the rocks below the little group wascomplete. 

They were free. But the most difficult part of their enterprise was yetto come. Behind them was the curtain of the fort; before them a short, shelving rocky beach and the open sea. 

No time was wasted. Walking two by two for mutual support over the roughground, the party set off toward the jetty. They kept as close aspossible to the wall, so that they would not be seen if a sentinel shouldhappen to look over the parapet; and being barefooted, the slight soundthey might make would be inaudible through the never-ceasing swish of thesurf. Their feet were cut by the sharp edges of the rocks; many a bruisethey got; but they kept on their silent way without a murmur. 

Reaching the angle of the wall, they had now perforce to leave itsshelter, for their course led past the outskirts of the native townacross a comparatively open space. Fortunately the night was very dark, and here and there on the shore were boats and small huts which affordedsome cover. The tide was on the ebb; and, when they at length struck thejetty, it was at a point some twenty yards from its shoreward end. Groping beneath it they halted for a moment, then the two Marathasseparated themselves from the rest and, with a whispered word offarewell, disappeared like shadows into the blackness. The sea was notfor them, they would take their chance on land. 

From a point some distance beyond the end of the jetty shone a faintglimmer of light. Desmond silently drew the Gujarati's attention to it. 

"They are gambling, " whispered the man. 

"So much the better for our chances, " thought Desmond. 

Turning to the Babu he whispered: "Now, Surendra Nath, you know what todo?"

"Yes, sahib. "

Placing their bundles in the woodwork supporting the jetty, five membersof the party--the Biluchis, the Mysoreans, and the Babu--stole away inthe darkness. Desmond and the Gujarati were left alone. The Babu placedhimself near the end of the jetty to keep guard. The two Mysoreans struckoff thence obliquely for a few yards until they came to a rude open shedin which the Pirate's carpenters were wont to work during the rains. Froma heap of shavings they drew a small but heavy barrel. Carrying thisbetween them they made their way with some difficulty back towards thejetty, where they rejoined the Babu. 

Meanwhile the Biluchis had returned some distance along the path by whichthey had come from the fort, then turned off to the left, and came to aplace where a number of small boats were drawn up just above high water. The boats were the ordinary tonis {small boats cut out of the solid tree, used for passing between the shore and larger vessels} of the coast, eachpropelled by short scull paddles. Moving quickly but with great cautionthe Biluchis collected the paddles from all these boats save one, carriedthem noiselessly down to the water's edge, waded a few yards into thesurf, and, setting down their burdens, pushed them gently seawards. Theythen returned to the one boat which they had not robbed of its paddle, and lay down beside it, apparently waiting. 

By and by they were joined by the Mysoreans. The four men lifted thetoni, and carrying it down to the jetty, quietly launched it under theshadow of the woodwork. A few yards away the Babu sat upon the barrel. This was lifted on board, and one of the men, tearing a long strip fromhis dhoti, muffled the single paddle. Then all five men squatted at thewaterside, awaiting with true oriental patience the signal for furtheraction. 

Not one of them but was aware that the plight of the two sentries theyhad left behind them in the fort might at any moment be discovered. Thehourly call must be nearly due. When no response came from the sentrywhose beat ended at their shed the alarm would at once be given, and in afew seconds the silent form of the sentinel on the bastion would befound, and the whole garrison would be sped to their pursuit. 

But at this moment of suspense only the Babu was agitated. His naturaltimidity, and the tincture of European ways of thought he had gainedduring his service in Calcutta, rendered him less subject than hisMohammedan companions to the fatalism which rules the oriental mind. Tothe Mohammedan what must be must be. Allah has appointed to every man hislot; man is but as a cork on the stream of fate. Not even when a low, half-strangled cry came to them across the water, out of the blacknessthat brooded upon the harbor, did any of the four give sign ofexcitement. The Babu started, and rose to his feet shivering; the othersstill squatted, mute and motionless as statues of ebony, neither bygesture nor murmur betraying their consciousness that at any moment, bytocsin from the fort, a thousand fierce and relentless warriors might belaunched like sleuth hounds upon their track. 

Meanwhile, what of Desmond and the Gujarati?

During the months Desmond had spent in Gheria he had made himselffamiliar, as far as his opportunities allowed, with the construction ofthe harbor and the manner of mooring the vessels there. He knew that thegallivats of the Pirate's fleet, lashed together, lay about eighty yardsfrom the head of the jetty under the shelter of the fortress rock, whichprotected them from the worst fury of the southwest monsoon. The grabslay on the other side of the jetty, some hundred and twenty yards towardsthe river--except three vessels which were held constantly ready for seasomewhat nearer the harbor mouth. 

He had learned, moreover, by cautious and apparently casual inquiries, that the gallivats were under a guard of ten men, the grabs of twenty. These men were only relieved at intervals of three days; they slept onboard when the vessels were in harbor and the crews dispersed ashore. 

In thinking over the difficult problem of escape, Desmond had foundhimself in a state of perplexity somewhat similar to that of the man whohad to convey a fox and a goose and a bag of corn across a river in aboat that would take but one at a time. He could not, with his smallparty, man a gallivat, which required fifty oarsmen to propel it atspeed; while if he seized one of the lighter grabs, he would have nochance whatever of outrunning the gallivats that would be immediatelylaunched in pursuit. It was this problem that had occupied him the wholeday during which Diggle had fondly imagined he was meditating on Angria'soffer of freedom. 

A few moments after their five companions had left them, Desmond and theGujarati climbed with the agility of seamen along the ties of theframework supporting the jetty, until they reached a spot a yard or twofrom the end. There, quite invisible from sea or land, they gentlylowered themselves into the water. Guided by the dim light which he hadnoticed, and which he knew must proceed from one of the moored gallivats, Desmond struck out towards the farther end of the line of vessels, swimming a noiseless breast stroke. Fuzl Khan followed him in equalsilence a length behind. 

The water was warm, and a few minutes' steady swimming brought themwithin twenty or thirty yards of the light. The hulls of the gallivatsand their tall raking spars could now be seen looming up out of theblackness. Desmond perceived that the light was on the outermost of theline, and, treading water for a moment, he caught the low hum of voicescoming from the after part of the gallivat. Striking out to the left, still followed by the Gujarati, he swam along past the sterns of thelashed vessels until he came under the side of the one nearest the shore. He caught at the hempen cable, swarmed up it, and, the gallivat havingbut little freeboard, soon reached the bulwark. 

There he paused to recover his breath and to listen. Hearing nothing, hequietly slipped over the side and lay on the main deck. In a few secondshe was joined by his companion. In the shadow of the bulwarks the twogroped their way cautiously along the deck. Presently Desmond, who was infront, struck his foot against some object invisible to him. There was agrunt beneath him. 

The two paused, Fuzl Khan nervously fingering the knife he had taken fromthe sentinel on the bastion. The grunt was repeated; but the intrudersremained still as death, and with a sleepy grumble the man who had beendisturbed turned over on his charpoy, placed transversely across thedeck, and fell asleep. 

All was quiet. Once more the two moved forward. They came to the ropes bywhich the vessel was lashed to the next in the line. For a moment Desmondstood irresolute; then he led the way swiftly and silently to the deck ofthe adjacent gallivat, crossed it without mishap, and so across thethird. Fortunately both were sailors, accustomed to finding their way onshipboard in the night, as much by sense of touch as by sight. Beingbarefooted, only the sharpest ears, deliberately on the alert, could havedetected them. 

They had now reached the fourth of the line of vessels. It was by far thelargest of the fleet, and for this reason Desmond had guessed that itwould have been chosen for his quarters by the serang {head of a crew} incharge of the watch. If he could secure this man he felt that hishazardous enterprise would be half accomplished. This was indeed thepivot on which the whole scheme turned, for in no other way would it bepossible to seize the ten men on board the gallivats without raising suchan alarm as must shock fort, city, and harbor to instant activity. And itwas necessary to Desmond's plan, not only to secure the serang, but tosecure him alive. 

The gallivat was Angria's own vessel, used in his visits up river to hiscountry house, and, during calm weather, in occasional excursions toSuwarndrug and the other forts on the sea coast. As Desmond was aware, itboasted a large state cabin aft, and he thought it very probable that theserang had appropriated this for his watch below. 

Pausing a moment as they reached the vessel to make sure that no one wasstirring, Desmond and Fuzl Khan crept on to its deck and threw themselvesdown, again listening intently. From the last vessel of the line came thesound of low voices, accompanied at intervals by the click of the oblongbone dice with which the men were gambling. This was a boon, for when theIndian, a born gambler, is engaged in one of his games of chance, he isoblivious of all else around him. But on Angria's gallivat there was nosound. Rising to a crouching position, so that his form could not be seenif any of the gamblers chanced to look in his direction, Desmond slowlycrept aft, halting at every few steps to listen. Still there was nosound. 

But all at once he caught sight of a faint glow ahead; what was it? For afew seconds he was puzzled. As he approached, the glow took shape; he sawthat it was the entrance to the cabin, the sliding door being half open. Creeping to the darker side, careful not to come within the radius of thelight, he stood erect, and again listened. From within came the snores ofa sleeper. Now he felt sure that his guess had been correct, for none butthe serang would dare to occupy the cabin, and even he would no doubthave cause to tremble if his presumption should come to the Pirate'sears. 

Keeping his body as much in the shadow as possible, Desmond craned hishead forward and peeped into the cabin. He could see little or nothing;the light came from a small oil lantern with its face turned to the wall. Made of some vegetable substance, the oil gave off a pungent smell. Thelantern was no doubt carried by the serang in his rounds of inspection;probably he kept it within reach at night; he must be sleeping in theblack shadow cast by it. To locate a sound is always difficult; but, asfar as Desmond could judge, the snores came from the neighborhood of thelantern and as from the floor. 

He stepped back again into complete darkness. The Gujarati was at hiselbow. 

"Wait, Fuzl Khan, " said Desmond in the lowest of whispers. "I must go inand see where the man is and how the cabin is arranged. "

The Gujarati crouched in the shadow of the bulwarks. Desmond, dropping onhands and knees, crawled slowly forward into the cabin towards the light. It was slightly above him, probably on a raised divan--the most likelyplace for the serang to choose as his bed. In a few moments Desmond'soutstretched fingers touched the edge of the little platform; the lightwas still nearly two yards away. Still he was unable to see the sleeper, though by the sound of his breathing he must be very near. 

Desmond feared that every moment might bring him into contact with theman. Whatever the risk, it was necessary to obtain a little more light. Slightly raising himself he found that, without actually mounting theplatform, he could just reach the lamp with outstretched fingers. Veryslowly he pushed it round, so that the light fell more directly into theroom. Then he was able to see, about four feet away, curled up on thedivan, with his arms under his head, the form of a man. There was noother in the cabin. Having discovered all that he wished to know, Desmondcrawled backward as carefully as he had come. 

At the moment of discovery he had felt the eager boy's impulse to springupon the sleeper at once, but although his muscles had been hardened by ayear of toil he doubted whether he had sufficient physical strength tomake absolutely sure of his man; a single cry, the sound of a scuffle, might be fatal. The Gujarati, on the other hand, a man of great bulk, could be trusted to overpower the victim by sheer weight, and with hisiron clutch to insure that no sound came from him. Desmond's only fearindeed was that the man, as in the case of the sentinel on the bastion, might overdo his part and give him all too thorough a quietus. 

He came to the entrance of the cabin. His appearance brought the Gujaratito his side. 

"Remember, Fuzl Khan, " he whispered, "we must keep the serang alive; noteven stun him. You understand?"

"I know, sahib. "

Drawing him silently into the apartment and to the edge of the platform, Desmond again crept to the lantern, and now turned it gradually stillfarther inwards until the form of the sleeper could be distinctly seen. The light was still dim; but it occurred to Desmond that the glow, increased now that the lantern was turned round, might attract theattention of the gamblers on the gallivat at the end of the line. So, while the Gujarati stood at the platform, ready to pounce on the sleeperas a cat on a mouse if he made the least movement, Desmond tiptoed to thedoor and began to close the sliding panel. It gave a slight creak; thesleeper stirred; Desmond quickly pushed the panel home, and as he did sothe serang sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking in sleepy suspiciontowards the lantern. 

While his knuckles were still at his eyes Fuzl Khan was upon him. A briefscuffle, almost noiseless, on the linen covering of the divan; a heavypanting for breath; then silence. The Gujarati relaxed his grip on theman's throat; he made another attempt to cry out; but the firm fingerstightened their pressure and the incipient cry was choked in a feeblegurgle. Once more the hapless serang tried to rise; Fuzl Khan pressed himdown and shook him vigorously. He saw that it was useless to resist, andlay limp and half throttled in his captor's hands. 

By this time Desmond had turned the lantern full upon the scene. Comingto the man's head, while the Gujarati still held him by the throat, hesaid, in low, rapid, but determined tones:

"Obey, and your life will be spared. But if you attempt to raise an alarmyou will be lost. Answer my questions. Where is there some loose rope onboard?"

The man hesitated to reply, but a squeeze from the Gujarati decided him. 

"There is a coil near the mainmast, " he said. 

Desmond slipped out, and in a few seconds returned with several yards ofthin coir, a strong rope made of cocoanut fiber. Soon the serang laybound hand and foot. 

"What are the names of the men on the furthest vessel?"

"They are Rama, Sukharam, Ganu, Ganpat, Hari. "

"Call Rama, gently; bid him come here. Do not raise your voice. "

The man obeyed. The clicking of the dice ceased, and in a few moments aMaratha appeared at the doorway and entered blinking. No sooner had heset foot within the cabin than he was seized by the Gujarata and gagged, and then, with a rapidity only possible to the practised sailor, he wasroped and laid helpless on the floor. 

"Call Sukharam, " said Desmond. 

The second man answered the summons, only to suffer the same fate. Athird was dealt with in the same fashion; then the fourth and fifth cametogether, wondering why the serang was so brutally interfering with theirgame. By the time they reached the door Desmond had turned the lantern tothe wall, so that they saw only a dim shape within the cabin. Ganpat wassecured before the last man became aware of what was happening. Harihesitated at the threshold, hearing the sound of a slight scuffle causedby the seizure of his companion. 

"Tell him to come in, " whispered Desmond in the serang's ear, emphasizingthe order by laying the cold blade of a knife against his collarbone. 

Fuzl Khan had not yet finished trussing the other; as the last manentered Desmond threw himself upon him. He could not prevent a lowstartled cry; and struggling together, the two rolled upon the floor. TheMaratha, not recognizing his assailant, apparently thought that theserang had suddenly gone mad, for he merely tried to disengage himself, speaking in a tone half angry, half soothing. But finding that the mangrasping him had a determined purpose, he became furious with alarm, andplucking a knife from his girdle struck viciously at the form above him. 

Desmond, with his back to the light, saw the blow coming. He caught theman's wrist, and in another moment the Gujarati came to his assistance. Thus the last of the watchmen was secured and laid beside his comrades. 

Six of the men on board the gallivats had been disposed of. But therestill remained five, asleep until their turn for watching and dicingcame. So quietly had the capture of the six been effected that not one ofthe sleepers had been disturbed. 

To deal with them was an easier matter. Leaving the bound men in thecabin, and led by the serang, whose feet had been released, Desmond andFuzl Khan visited each of the gallivats in turn. The sleeping men awokeat their approach, but they were reassured by the voice of the serang, who in terror for his life spoke to them at Desmond's bidding; and beforethey realized what was happening they were in the toils, helpless likethe rest. 

When the last of the watchmen was thus secured, Desmond crept to thevessel nearest the shore and, making a bell of his hands, sent a low hailacross the surface of the water in the direction of the jetty. He waitedanxiously, peering into the darkness, straining his ears. Five minutespassed, fraught with the pain of uncertainty and suspense. Then he caughtthe faint sound of ripples: he fancied he descried a dark form on thewater; it drew nearer, became more definite. 

"Is that you, sahib?" said a low voice. 

"Yes. "

He gave a great sigh of relief. The toni drew alongside, and soon fivemen, with bundles, muskets, and the small heavy barrel, stood withDesmond and the Gujarati on the deck of the gallivat. 

Chapter 14: In which seven bold men light a big bonfire; and the Piratefinds our hero a bad bargain. 

Desmond's strongest feeling, as his companions stepped on board, waswonder--wonder at the silence of the fort, the darkness that covered thewhole face of the country, the safety of himself and the men so latelyprisoners. What time had passed since they had left the shed he wasunable to guess; the moments had been so crowded that any reckoning wasimpossible. But when, as he waited for the coming of the boat, his mindran over the incidents of the flight--the trussing of the sentry, thewary approach to the bastion, the tragic fate of the sentinel there, thestealthy creeping along the shore, the swim to the gallivats and all thathad happened since: as he recalled these things, he could not but wonderthat the alarm he dreaded had not already been given. But it was clearthat all was as yet undiscovered; and the plot had worked out so exactlyas planned that he hoped still for a breathing space to carry out hisenterprise to the end. 

There was not a moment to be wasted. The instant the men were aboardDesmond rapidly gave his orders. Fuzl Khan and one of the Mysoreans hesent to carry the barrel to Angria's gallivat. It contained da'ma. Theywere to break it open, tear down the hangings in the cabin, smear themplentifully, and set light to them from the lantern. Meanwhile Desmondhimself, with the rest of the men, set about preparing the gallivat inwhich he was about to make his next move. 

The lightest of the line of vessels was the one in which the watchmen hadbeen gambling. It happened that this, with the gallivat next to it, hadcome into harbor late in the evening from a short scouting cruise, andthe sweeps used by their crews had not been carried on shore, as thecustom was. The larger vessel had fifty of these sweeps, the smallerthirty. If pursuit was to be checked it was essential that none of themshould be left in the enemy's hands, and the work of carrying the fiftyfrom the larger to the smaller vessel took some time. 

There was no longer the same need for quietness of movement. So long asany great noise and bustle was avoided, the sentinels on the walls of thefort would only suppose, if sounds reached their ears, that the watch onboard were securing the gallivats at their moorings. 

When the sweeps had all been transferred Desmond ordered the prisoners tobe brought from Angria's cabin to the smaller vessel. The lashings oftheir feet were cut in turn; each man was carefully searched, deprived ofall weapons, and escorted from the one vessel to the other, his feetbeing then securely bound as before. 

On board the smallest gallivat were now Desmond, five of his companions, and eleven helpless Marathas. He had just directed one of the Biluchis tocast loose the lashings between the vessels, and was alreadycongratulating himself that the main difficulties of his venture werepast, when he suddenly heard shouts from the direction of the fort. Immediately afterwards the deep notes of the huge gong kept in Angria'scourtyard boomed and reverberated across the harbor, echoed at briefintervals by the strident clanging of several smaller gongs in the town. 

Barely had the first sound reached his ears when he saw a light flashforth from the outermost bastion; to the left of it appeared a second;and soon, along the whole face of the fort, in the dockyard, in the town, innumerable lights dotted the blackness, some stationary, others movingthis way and that. Now cries were heard from all sides, growing in volumeuntil the sound was as of some gigantic hornet's nest awakened into angryactivity. To the clangor of gongs was added the blare of trumpets, andfrom the walls of the fort and palace, from the hill beyond, from everycliff along the shore, echoed and re-echoed an immense and furious din. 

For a few seconds Desmond stood as if fascinated, watching thetransformation which the hundreds of twinkling lights had caused. Then hepulled himself together, and with a word to the Biluchi who had loosedthe lashings, bidding him hold on to the next gallivat, he sprang to theside of this vessel, and hurried towards Angria's. Fuzl Khan had notreturned; Desmond almost feared that some mishap had befallen the man. 

Reaching the center vessel, he peered down the hatchway, but started backas a gust of acrid smoke struck him from below. He called to theGujarati. There was no response. For an instant he stood in hesitation;had the man been overcome by the suffocating fumes filling the hold? Butjust as, with the instinct of rescue, he was about to lower himself intothe depths, he heard a low hail from the vessel at the end of the linenearest the shore. A moment afterwards Fuzl Khan came stumbling towardshim. 

"I have fired another gallivat, sahib, " he said, his voice ringing withfierce exultation. 

"Well done, Fuzl Khan, " said Desmond. "Now we must be off. See, there aretorches coming down towards the jetty. "

The two sprang across the intervening vessel, a dense cloud of smokefollowing them from the hatchway of Angria's gallivat. Reaching theoutermost of the line, Desmond gave the word, the anchor was slipped, thetwo Biluchis pressed with all their force against the adjacent vessel, and the gallivat moved slowly out. Desmond ran to the helm, and theGujarati with his five companions seizing each upon one of the longsweeps, they dropped their blades into the water and began to pull. 

Desmond was all a-tingle with excitement and determination. The shoutsfrom the shore were nearer; the lights were brighter; for all he knew, the whole garrison and population were gathering. They had guessed thatan escape was being attempted by sea. Even now perhaps boats were settingoff, bringing rowers to man the gallivats, and oars to send them inpursuit. 

If they should reach the vessels before the middle one had burst intoflame, he felt that his chances of getting away were small indeed. Whenwould the flame appear? It might check the pursuers, throw them intoconsternation, confuse and delay the pursuit. Would the longed-for blazenever show itself? And how slowly his gallivat was moving! The rowerswere bending to their work with a will, but six men are but a poor crewfor a vessel of a hundred tons, and the slow progress it was making wasin fact due more to the still ebbing tide than to the frantic efforts ofthe oarsmen. The wind was contrary; it would be useless to hoist thesail. At this rate they would be half an hour or more in reaching thethree grabs anchored nearer the mouth of the harbor. The willing rowerson their benches could not know how slowly the vessel was moving, but itwas painfully clear to Desmond at the helm; relative to the lights onshore the gallivat seemed scarcely to move at all. 

He called to Fuzl Khan, who left his oar and hurried aft. 

"We must make more speed, Fuzl Khan. Release the prisoners' hands; keeptheir feet tied, and place them among our party. Don't take an oaryourself: stand over them ready to strike down any man who mutinies. "

The Gujarati grunted and hurried away. Assisted by Surendra Nath, who, being his companion on the rowing bench, had perforce dropped his oar, hesoon had the prisoners in position. Urging them with terrible threats andfierce imprecations, he forced them to ply their oars with long steadystrokes. The way on the gallivat increased. There was not a greatdistance now to be covered, it was unnecessary to husband their strength, and with still more furious menaces Fuzl Khan got out of the sturdyMarathas all the energy of which they were capable. The escaped prisonersneeded no spur; they were working with might and main, for dear life. 

Desmond had to steer by guesswork and such landmarks as were afforded bythe lights on shore. He peered anxiously ahead, hoping to see the dimshapes of the three grabs; but this was at present impossible, since theylay between him and the seaward extremity of the fort, where lights hadnot yet appeared. Looking back he saw a number of torches flitting alongthe shore; and now two or three dark objects, no doubt boats, were movingfrom the farther side of the jetty towards the gallivats. At the samemoment he caught sight of these he saw at last, rising from thegallivats, the thin tongue of flame he had so long expected. 

But now that it had come at last, showing that the work on board had beenthorough, he almost regretted it, for it was instantly seen from theshore and greeted by a babel of yells caught up in different parts of thetown and fort. As at a signal the torches no longer flickered hither andthither aimlessly, but all took the same direction towards the jetty. Thehunt was up!

Glancing round, Desmond suddenly gave the order to cease rowing, andputting the helm hard down just avoided crashing into a dark objectahead. The sweeps grated against the side of what proved to be one of thegrabs for which he had been looking. A voice from its deck hailed him. 

"Take care! Where are you going? Who are you?"

Desmond called up the serang. He dare not reply himself, lest his accentshould betray him. 

"Tell him all is well. We have a message from the fort to the Tremukji, "he said in a whisper. 

The serang repeated the words aloud. 

"Well, huzur. But what is the meaning of the noise and the torches andthe blaze on the sea?"

"Tell him we have no time to waste. Ask him where the Tremukji lies. "

The man on the grab replied that she lay outside, a dozen boat lengths. Desmond knew that this vessel, which had been launched during hiscaptivity, and in whose construction he had had a humble part, had provedthe swiftest in the fleet, although much smaller than the majority of thePirate's. Once on board her, and beyond reach of the guns of the fort, hemight fairly hope to get clear away in spite of his miscellaneous crew. Giving to the Gujarati the order to go ahead, he questioned the serang. 

"What is the name of the serang in charge of the Tremukji?"

"Pandu, sahib. "

"How many men are on board her?"

"Three, sahib. "

"Then, when we come alongside and I give the word, you will tell him tocome aboard at once; we have a message from the fort for him. "

Owing to the trend of the shore, the gallivat had been slowly nearing thewalls of the fort, and at this moment could not be more than a hundredand fifty yards distant from them. But for the shouting on shore thenoise of the sweeps must by this time have been heard. In the glow of theblazing vessels in mid channel the moving gallivat had almost certainlybeen seen. Desmond grew more and more anxious. 

"Hail the grab, " he said to the serang as the vessel loomed up ahead. 

"Hai, hai, Tremukji!" cried the man. 

There came an answering hail. Then the serang hesitated; he was evidentlywondering whether even now he might not defy this foreigner who wasbearding his terrible master. But his hesitation was short. At a signfrom Desmond, Gulam the Biluchi, who had brought the serang forward, applied the point of his knife to the back of the unfortunate man's neck. 

"I have a message from Angria Rho, " he cried quickly. "Come aboard atonce. "

The rowers at a word from Fuzl Khan shipped their oars, and the twovessels came together with a sharp thud. The serang in charge of the grabvaulted across the bulwarks and fell into the waiting arms of Fuzl Khan, who squeezed his throat, muttered a few fierce words in his ear, andhanded him over to Gulam, who bundled him below. Then, shouting the orderto make fast, the Gujarati flung a hawser across to the grab. The two menon board her obeyed without question; but they were still at the workwhen Desmond and Fuzl Khan, followed by the two Mysoreans, leaped uponthem from the deck of the gallivat. There was a short sharp scrimmage;then these guardians of the grab were hauled on to the gallivat and sentto join the rowers on the main deck. 

Desmond and his six companions now had fourteen prisoners on their hands, and in ordinary circumstances the disproportion would have been fatal. But the captives, besides having been deprived of all means of offense, had no exact knowledge of the exact number of men who had trapped them. Their fears and the darkness had a magnifying effect, and, like Falstaff, they would have sworn that their enemies were ten times as many as theyactually were. 

So deeply engrossed had Desmond been in the capture of the grab that hehad forgotten the one serious danger that threatened to turn the tide ofaccident, hitherto so favorable, completely against him. He had forgottenthe burning gallivats. But now his attention was recalled to them in avery unpleasant and forcible way. There was a deafening report, as itseemed from a few yards' distance, followed immediately by a splash inthe water just ahead. The glare of the burning vessels was dimly lightingup almost the whole harbor mouth, and the runaway gallivat, now clearlyseen from the fort, had become a target for its guns. The gunners hadbeen specially exercised of late in anticipation of an attack fromBombay, and Desmond knew that in his slow-going vessel he could not hopeto draw out of range in time to escape a battering. 

But his gallivat was among the grabs. At this moment it must beimpossible for the gunners to distinguish between the runaway and theloyal vessels. If he could only cause them to hold their fire for a time!Knowing that the Gujarati had a stentorian voice, and that a shout wouldcarry upwards from the water to the parapet, in a flash Desmond saw thepossibility of a ruse. He spoke to Fuzl Khan. The man at once turned tothe fort, and with the full force of his lungs shouted:

"Comrades, do not fire. We have caught them!"

Answering shouts came from the walls; the words were indistinguishable, but the trick had succeeded, at any rate for the moment. No second shotwas at this time fired. 

Desmond made full use of this period of grace. He recognized that thegallivat, while short-handed, was too slow to make good the escape; thegrab, with the wind contrary, could never be got out of the harbor; theonly course open to him was to make use of the one to tow the other untilthey reached the open sea. As soon as a hawser could be bent the grab wastaken in tow: its crew was impressed with the other prisoners as rowers, under the charge of the Biluchis; and with Desmond at the helm of thegrab and the Gujarati steering the gallivat, the two vessels crept slowlyseawards. They went at a snail's pace, for it was nearly slack tide; andslow as the progress of the gallivat had been before, it was much slowernow that the men had to move two vessels instead of one. 

To Desmond, turning every now and again to watch the increasing glarefrom the burning gallivats, it seemed that he scarcely advanced at all. The town and the townward part of the fort were minute by minute becomingmore brightly illuminated; every detail around the blazing vessels couldbe distinctly seen; and mingled with the myriad noises from the shore wasnow the crackle of the flames, and the hiss of burning spars and riggingas they fell into the water. 

The gallivats had separated into two groups; either they had been cutapart, or, more probably, the lashings had been burned through. Aroundone of the groups Desmond saw a number of small boats. They appeared tobe trying to cut out the middle of the three gallivats, which seemed tobe as yet uninjured, while the vessels on either side were in full blaze. Owing to the intense heat the men's task was a difficult and dangerousone, and Desmond had good hope that they would not succeed until thegallivat was too much damaged to be of use for pursuit. He wondered, indeed, at the attempt being made at all; for it kept all the availableboats engaged when they might have dashed upon the grab in tow and madeshort work of it. 

The true explanation of their blunder did not at the moment occur toDesmond. The fact was that the men trying so earnestly to save thegallivat knew nothing of what had happened to the grab. They were awarethat a gallivat had been cut loose and was standing out to sea; but theglare of the fire blinded them to all that was happening beyond a narrowcircle, and as yet they had had no information from shore of what wasactually occurring. When they did learn that two vessels were on theirway to the sea, they would no doubt set out to recapture the fugitivesinstead of wasting their efforts in a futile attempt to save theunsavable. 

Desmond was still speculating on the point when another shot from thefort aroused him to the imminent danger. The dark shapes of the twovessels must now certainly be visible from the walls. The shot flew wide. Although the grab was well within range it was doubtless difficult totake aim, the distance being deceptive and the sights useless in thedark. But this shot was followed at intervals of a few seconds by anotherand another; it was clear that the fugitives were running the gauntlet ofthe whole armament on this side of the fort. The guns were being fired asfast as they could be loaded; the gunners were becoming accustomed to thedarkness, and when Desmond heard the shots plumping into the water, nearer to him, it seemed, every time, he could not but recognize thatsuccess or failure hung upon a hair. 

Crash! A round shot struck the grab within a few feet of the wheel. Ashower of splinters flew in all directions. Desmond felt a stinging blowon the forehead; he put up his hand; when he took it away it was wet. Hecould not leave the wheel to see what damage had been done to the ship, still less to examine his own injury. 

He was alone on board. Every other man was straining at his oar in thegallivat. He felt the blood trickling down his face; from time to time hewiped it away with the loose end of his dhoti. Then he forgot his wound, for two more shots within a few seconds of each other struck the grabforward. Clearly the gunners were aiming at his vessel, which, beinglarger than the gallivat, and higher in the water, presented an easiermark. Where had she been hit? If below the waterline, before many minuteswere past she would be sinking under him. 

Yet he could do nothing. He dared not order the men in the gallivat tocease rowing; he dared not leave the helm of the grab; he could but waitand hold his post. It would not be long before he knew whether the vesselhad been seriously hit: if it was so, then would be the time to cast offthe tow rope. 

The gallivat, at any rate, appeared not to have suffered. Desmond wasbeginning to think he was out of the wood when he heard a crash in front, followed by a still more ominous sound. The motion of the gallivat atonce ceased, and, the grab slowly creeping up to her, Desmond had to puthis helm hard up to avoid a collision. He could hear the Gujarati ragingand storming on deck, and cries as of men in pain; then, as the grab cameabreast of the smaller vessel, he became aware of what had happened. Themainmast of the gallivat had been struck by a shot and had gone by theboard. 

Desmond hailed the Gujarati and told him to get three or four men to cutaway the wreckage. 

"Keep an eye on the prisoners, " he added, feeling that this was perhapsthe most serious element in a serious situation; for with round shotflying about the vessel it might well have seemed to the unhappy men onthe rowing benches that mutiny was the lesser of two risks. But therowers were cowed by the presence of the two Biluchis armed with theirterrible knives, and they crowded in dumb helplessness while the tangledrigging was cut away. 

"Is any one hurt?" asked Desmond. 

"One of the rowers has a broken arm, sahib, " replied Shaik Abdullah. 

"And I have a contusion of the nose, " said the Babu lugubriously. 

It was impossible to do anything for the sufferers at the moment. It wasstill touch-and-go with the whole party. The shots from the fort were nowbeginning to fall short, but, for all Desmond knew, boats might have beenlaunched in pursuit, and if he was overtaken it meant lingering tortureand a fearful death. He was in a fever of impatience until at length, thetangled shrouds having been cut away, the rowing was resumed and the twovessels began again to creep slowly seaward. 

Gradually they drew out of range of the guns. Steering straight out tosea, Desmond had a clear view of the whole of the harbor and a longstretch of the river. The scene was brightly lit up, and he saw that twoof the gallivats had been towed away from the burning vessels, from whichthe flames were now shooting high into the air. But even on the two thathad been cut loose there were spurts of flame; and Desmond hoped thatthey had sustained enough damage to make them unseaworthy. 

Suddenly there were two loud explosions, in quick succession. A column offire rose toward the sky from the gallivats that were blazing mostbrightly. The fire had at length reached the ammunition. The red sparkssprang upwards like a fountain, casting a ruddy glow for many yardsaround; then they fell back into the sea, and all was darkness, exceptfor the lesser lights from the burning vessels whose magazines had as yetescaped. The explosions could hardly have occurred at a more opportunemoment, for the darkness was now all the more intense, and favored thefugitives. 

There was a brisk breeze from the southwest outside the harbor, and whenthe two vessels lost the shelter of the headland they crept along evenmore slowly than before. Desmond had learned enough of seamanship onboard the Good Intent to know that he must have sea room before he castoff the gallivat and made sail northwards; otherwise he would inevitablybe driven on shore. It was this fact that had prompted his operations inthe harbor. He knew that the grabs could not put to sea unless they weretowed, and the gallivats being rendered useless, towing was impossible. 

The sea was choppy, and the rowers had much ado to control the sweeps. Only their dread of the Biluchis' knives kept them at their work. But theprogress, though slow, was steady; gradually the glow in the sky behindthe headland grew dimmer; though it was as yet impossible to judge withcertainty how much offing had been made. Desmond, resolving to give awayno chances, and being unacquainted with the trend of the coast, kept therowers at work, with short intervals of rest, until dawn. By this meanshe hoped to avoid all risk of being driven on a lee shore, and to throwAngria off the scent, for it would naturally be supposed that thefugitives would head at once for Bombay, and pursuit, if attempted, wouldbe made in that direction. 

When day broke over the hills, Desmond guessed that the coast must be nowfive miles off. As far as he could see, it ran north by east. He had nowplenty of sea room; there was no pursuer in sight; the wind was in hisfavor, and if it held, no vessel in Angria's harbor could now catch him. He called to the Gujarati, who shouted an order to the Biluchis; theworn-out men on the benches ceased rowing, except four who pulled a fewstrokes every now and then to prevent the two vessels from colliding. 

Desmond had thought at first of stopping the rowing altogether andrunning the grab alongside the gallivat; but that course, while safeenough in the still water of the harbor, would have its dangers in theopen sea. So, lashing the helm of the grab, he dropped into a small boatwhich had been bumping throughout the night against the vessel's side, and in a few minutes was on board the gallivat. 

He first inquired after the men who had been wounded in the night. Onehad a broken arm, which no one on board knew how to set. The Babu hadcertainly a much discolored nose, the contusion having been caused nodoubt by a splinter of wood thrown up by the shot. Two or three of therowers had slight bruises and abrasions, but none had been killed andnone dangerously hurt. 

Then Desmond had a short and earnest talk with the Gujarati, who alone ofthe men had sufficient seamanship to make him of any value in decidingupon the next move. 

"What is to be done with the gallivat?" asked Desmond. 

"Scuttle her, sahib, and hoist sail on the grab. "

"But the rowers?"

"Fasten them to the benches and let them drown. They could not help ourenemies then, and it would make up for what you and I and all of us havesuffered in Gheria. "

"No, I can't do that, " said Desmond. 

"It must be as I say, sahib. There is nothing else to do. We have killedno one yet, except the sentinel on the parapet; I did that neatly, thesahib will agree; I would have a life for every lash of the whip upon myback. "

"No, " said Desmond decisively, "I shall not drown the men. We will takeon board the grab three or four, who must be sailors; let us ask who willvolunteer. We will promise them good pay; we haven't any money, to besure, but the grab can be sold when we reach Bombay, and though we stoleher I think everybody would admit that she is our lawful prize. I shouldthink they'll be ready enough to volunteer, for they won't care to returnto Gheria and face Angria's rage. At the same time we can't take morethan three or four, because in the daylight they can now see how few weare, and they might take a fancy to recapture the grab. What do you thinkof that plan?"

The Gujarati sullenly assented. He did not understand mercy to an enemy. 

"There is no need to pay them, sahib, " he said. "You can promise pay; apromise is enough. "

Desmond was unwilling to start an argument and said nothing. Once inBombay he could insure that any pledges given would be strictly kept. 

As he expected, there was no difficulty in obtaining volunteers. Twicethe number required offered their services. They had not found their workwith the Pirate so easy or so well rewarded as to have any greatobjection to a change of masters. Moreover, they no doubt feared thereception they would get from Angria if they returned. And it appearedafterwards that during the night the Biluchis had recounted many fabulousincidents, all tending to show that the sahib was a very important aswell as a very ingenious Firangi, so that this reputation, coupled withan offer of good pay, overcame any scruples the men might retain. 

Among those who volunteered and whose services were accepted was theserang of Angria's gallivat. Unknown to Desmond, while he was holdingthis conversation with the Gujarati, the serang, crouching in apparentapathy on his bench, had really strained his ears to catch what was beingsaid. He, with the three other men selected, was released from his bonds, and ordered to lower the longboat of the gallivat and stow in it all theammunition for the guns that was to be found in the ship's magazine. Thiswas then taken on board the grab, and Desmond ordered one of theMysoreans to load the grab's stern chasers, telling the Marathas whom heintended to leave on the gallivat that, at the first sign of any attemptto pursue, their vessel would be sunk. 

Then in two parties the fugitives went on board the grab. Desmond was thelast to leave the gallivat, releasing one of the captive rowers, who inhis turn could release the rest. 

As soon as Desmond stepped on board the grab, the hawser connecting thetwo vessels was cast off, the mainsail was run up, and the grab, sailinglarge, stood up the coast. Fuzl Khan, swarming up to the masthead, reported two or three sail far behind, apparently at the mouth of Gheriaharbor. But Desmond, knowing that if they were in pursuit they had a longbeat to windward before them, felt no anxiety on that score. Besides, thegrab he was on had been selected precisely because it was the fastestvessel in Angria's fleet. 

Having got fairly under way, he felt that he had leisure to inspect thedamage done to the grab by the shots from the fort which had given him somuch concern in the darkness. That she had suffered no serious injury wasclear from the ease with which she answered the helm and the rapidity ofher sailing. He found that a hole or two had been made in the forepart ofthe deck, and a couple of yards of the bulwarks carried away. There wasnothing to cause alarm or to demand repair. 

It was a bright cool morning, and Desmond, after the excitements and thestrain of the last few days, felt an extraordinary lightness of spirit asthe vessel cut through the water. For the first time in his life he knewthe meaning of the word freedom; none but a man who has sufferedcaptivity or duress can know such joy as now filled his soul. The longstress of his menial life on board the Good Intent, the weary months oftoil, difficulty and danger as Angria's prisoner, were past; and it waswith whole-hearted joyousness he realized that he was now on his way toBombay, where Clive was--Clive, the hero who was as a fixed star in hismental firmament. 

The gallivat, lying all but motionless on the water, a forlorn objectwith the jagged stump of her mainmast, grew smaller and smaller in thedistance, and was soon hull down. Desmond, turning away from a last lookin her direction, awoke from his reverie to the consciousness that he wasravenously hungry. 

Chapter 15: In which our hero weathers a storm; and prepares for squalls. 

Hungry as he was, however, Desmond would not eat while he was, so tospeak, still in touch with Gheria. He ran up the sail on the mizzen, andthe grab was soon cutting her way through the water at a spanking rate. He had closely studied the chart on board the Good Intent when thatvessel was approaching the Indian coast--not with any fixed purpose, butin the curiosity which invested all things Indian with interest for him. From his recollection he believed that Gheria was somewhat more than ahundred miles from Bombay. If the grab continued to make such goodsailing she might hope to cover this distance by midnight. But she couldhardly run into harbor until the following day. There was, of course, nochart, not even a compass, on board; the only apparatus he possessed wasa water clock; naturally he could not venture far out to sea, but neitherdared he hug the shore too closely. He knew not what reefs there might belying in wait for his untaught keel. Besides, he might be sighted fromone or other of the coast strongholds still remaining in Angria's hands, and it was not impossible that swift messengers had already been sentalong the shore from Gheria, prescribing a keen lookout and the chase ofany solitary grab making northward. 

But if he kept too far out he might run past Bombay, though when hementioned this to his fellow fugitives he was assured by the Biluchis andFuzl Khan that they would unfailingly recognize the landmarks, havingmore than once in the course of their trading and pirate voyages touchedat that port. 

On the whole he thought it best to keep the largest possible offing thatwould still leave the coast within sight. Putting the helm down he ranout some eight or ten miles, until the coast was visible only from themasthead as a purple line on the horizon, with occasional glimpses ofhigh ghats {mountains} behind. 

Meanwhile the Gujarati and some of the others had breakfasted from theirbundles. Leaving the former in charge of the wheel, Desmond took hiswell-earned meal of rice and chapatis, stale, but sweet with thesweetness of freedom. 

In his ignorance of the coast he felt that he must not venture to runinto Bombay in the darkness, and resolved to heave-to during the night. At the dawn he would creep in towards the shore without anxiety, forthere was little chance of falling in with hostile vessels in theimmediate neighborhood of Bombay. Knowing that a considerable Britishfleet lay there, the Pirate would not allow his vessels to cruise farfrom his own strongholds. But as there was a prospect of spending atleast one night at sea, it was necessary to establish some system ofwatches. The task of steering had to be shared between Desmond and FuzlKhan; and the majority of the men being wholly inexperienced, it was notsafe to leave fewer than six of them on duty at a time. The only dangerlikely to arise was from the weather. So far it was good; the sea wascalm, the sky was clear; but Desmond was enough of a seaman to know that, being near the coast, the grab might at any moment, almost withoutwarning, be struck by a squall. He had to consider how best to divide uphis crew. 

Including himself there were eleven men on board. Four of them werestrangers of whom he knew nothing; the six who had escaped with him wereknown only as fellow prisoners. 

To minimize any risk, he divided the crew into three watches. Oneconsisted of the Babu, the serang, and one of the Marathas from thegallivat. Each of the others comprised a Mysorean, a Biluchi, and aMaratha. Thus the strangers were separated as much as possible, and thenumber of Marathas on duty was never in excess of the number offugitives; the steersman, Desmond or the Gujarati, as the case might be, turned the balance. 

The watch was set by means of the water clock found in the cabin. Desmondarranged that he and Fuzl Khan should take alternate periods of eighthours on and four off. The two matchlocks taken from the sentinels of thefort and brought on board were loaded and placed on deck near the wheel. None of the crew was armed save the Biluchis, who retained their knives. 

Towards midday the wind dropped almost to a dead calm. This wasdisappointing, for Desmond suspected that he was still within the area ofAngria's piratical operations--if not from Gheria, at any rate from someof the more northerly strongholds not yet captured by the East IndiaCompany or the Peshwa. But he had a good offing: scanning the horizon allaround he failed to sight a single sail; and he hoped that the breezewould freshen as suddenly as it had dropped. 

Now that excitement and suspense were over, and there was nothing thatcalled for activity, Desmond felt the natural reaction from the strain hehad undergone. By midday he was so tired and sleepy that he found himselfbeginning to doze at the wheel. The Gujarati had been sleeping for somehours, and, as the vessel now required scarcely any attention Desmondthought it a good opportunity for snatching a rest. Calling to Fuzl Khanto take his place and bidding him keep the vessel's head, as far as hecould, due north, he went below. About six bells, as time would have beenreckoned on the Good Intent, he was wakened by the Babu, with a messagefrom the Gujarati desiring him to come on deck. 

"Is anything wrong, Babu?" he asked, springing up. 

"Not so far as I am aware, sahib. Only it is much hotter since I began mywatch. "

Desmond had hardly stepped on deck before he understood the reason forthe summons. Overhead all was clear; but towards the land a dense bank ofblack cloud was rising, and approaching the vessel with great rapidity. It was as though some vast blanket were being thrown seawards. The airwas oppressively hot, and the sea lay like lead. Desmond knew the signs;the Gujarati knew them too; and they set to work with a will to meet thestorm. 

Fortunately Desmond, recognizing the unhandiness of his crew, had takencare to set no more sail than could be shortened at the briefest notice. He had not been called a moment too soon. A flash lit the black sky; apeal of thunder rattled like artillery far off; and then a squall struckthe grab with terrific force, and the sea, suddenly lashed into fury, advanced like a cluster of green liquid mountains to overwhelm thevessel. She heeled bulwarks under, and was instantly wrapped in a densemist, rain pouring in blinding sheets. The main topsail was blown awaywith a report like a gun shot; and then, under a reefed foresail, thegrab ran before the wind, which was apparently blowing from thesoutheast. 

Furious seas broke over the deck; the wind bellowed through the rigging;the vessel staggered and plunged under the shocks of sea and wind. FuzlKhan clung to the helm with all his strength, but his arms were almosttorn from their sockets, and he called aloud for Desmond to come to hisassistance. 

It was fortunate that little was required of the crew, for in a fewminutes all of them save the four Marathas from the gallivat wereprostrated with seasickness. The Babu had run below, and occasionally, between two gusts, Desmond could hear the shrieks and groans of theterrified man. But he had no time to sympathize; his whole energies werebent on preventing the grab from being pooped. He felt no alarm; indeed, the storm exhilarated him; danger is bracing to a courageous spirit, andhis blood leaped to this contest with the elements. He thrilled with asense of personal triumph as he realized that the grab was a magnificentsea boat. There was no fear but that the hull would stand the strain;Desmond knew the pains that had been expended in her building: thecareful selection of the timbers, the niceness with which the planks hadbeen fitted. No European vessel could have proved her superior inseaworthiness. 

But she was fast drifting out into the Indian Ocean, far away from thehaven Desmond desired to make. How long was this going to last? Whitherwas he being carried? Without chart or compass he could take no bearings, set no true course. It was a dismal prospect, and Desmond, glowing as hewas with the excitement of the fight, yet felt some anxiety. Luckily, besides the provisions brought in their bundles by the fugitives, therewas a fair supply of food and water on board; for although every portablearticle of value had been taken on shore when the grab anchored inGheria, it had not been thought necessary to remove the bulkier articles. Thus, if at the worst the vessel were driven far out to sea, there was nodanger of starvation, even if she could not make port for several days. 

But Desmond hoped that things would not come to this pass. Towardsnightfall, surely, the squall would blow itself out. Yet the windappeared to be gaining rather than losing strength; hour after hourpassed, and he still could not venture to quit the wheel. He was drenchedthrough and through with the rain; his muscles ached with the stress; andhe could barely manage to eat the food and water brought him staggeringlyby the serang in the intervals of the wilder gusts. 

The storm had lasted for nearly ten hours before it showed signs ofabatement. Another two hours passed before it was safe to leave the helm. The wind had by this time fallen to a steady breeze; the rain had ceased;the sky was clear and starlit; but the sea was still running high. Atlength the serang offered to steer while the others got a little rest;and intrusting the wheel to him Desmond and Fuzl Khan threw themselvesdown as they were, on the deck near the wheel, and were soon fast asleep. 

At dawn Desmond awoke to find the grab laboring in a heavy sea, with juststeering way on. The wind had dropped to a light breeze. The Gujarati wassoon up and relieved the serang at the wheel; the rest of the crew, haggard melancholy objects, were set to work to make things shipshape. Only the Babu remained below; he lay huddled in the cabin, bruised, prostrate, unable to realize that the bitterness of death was past, unable to believe that life had any further interest for him. 

Desmond's position was perplexing. Where was he? Perforce he had lost hisbearings. He scanned the whole circumference of the horizon, and sawnothing but the vast dark ocean plain and its immense blue dome--never ayard of land, never a stitch of canvas. He had no means of ascertaininghis latitude. During the twelve hours of the storm the grab had beendriven at a furious rate; if the wind had blown all the time from thesoutheast, the quarter from which it had struck the vessel, she must nowbe at least fifty miles from the coast, possibly more, and north ofBombay. In the inky blackness of the night, amid the blinding rain, ithad been impossible to read anything from the stars. All was uncertain, save the golden sheen of sunlight in the east. 

Desmond's only course was to put the vessel about and steer by the sun. She must thus come sooner or later in sight of the coast, and then one orthe other of the men on board might recognize a landmark--a hill, apromontory, a town. The danger was that they might make the coast in theneighborhood of one of the Pirate's strongholds; but that must be risked. 

For the rest of the day there were light variable winds, such as, according to Fuzl Khan, might be expected at that season of the year. Thenortheast monsoon was already overdue. Its coming was usually heralded byfitful and uncertain winds, varied by such squalls or storms as they hadjust experienced. 

The sea moderated early in the morning, and became continually smootheruntil, as the sun went down, there was scarce a ripple on the surface. The wind meanwhile had gradually veered to the southwest, and later tothe west, and the grab began to make more headway. But with the fall ofnight it dropped to a dead calm, a circumstance from which the Gujaratiinferred that they were still a long way from the coast. When the starsappeared, however, and Desmond was able to get a better idea of thecourse to set, a slight breeze sprang up again from the west, and thegrab crept along at a speed of perhaps four knots. 

It had been a lazy day on board. The crew had recovered from theirsickness, but there was nothing for them to do, and as orientals theywere quite content to do nothing. Only the Babu remained off duty, inaddition to the watch below. Desmond visited him, and persuaded him totake some food; but nothing would induce him to come on deck; the meresight of the sea, he said, would externalize his interior. 

It was Desmond's trick at the wheel between eight and midnight. GulamAbdullah was on the lookout; the rest of the crew were forward squattingon the deck in a circle around Fuzl Khan. Desmond, thinking of otherthings, heard dully, as from a great distance, the drone of theGujarati's voice. He was talking more freely and continuously than wasusual with him; ordinarily his manner was morose; he was a man of fewwords, and those not too carefully chosen. So prolonged was themonotonous murmur, however, that Desmond by and by found himselfwondering what was the subject of his lengthy discourse; he even strainedhis ears to catch, if it might be, some fragments of it; but nothing cameinto distinctness out of the low-pitched tone. 

Occasionally it was broken by the voice of one of the others; now andagain there was a brief interval of silence; then the Gujarati beganagain. Desmond's thoughts were once more diverted to his own strangefate. Little more than a year before, he had been a boy, with no moreexperience than was to be gained within the narrow circuit of a countryfarm. What a gamut of adventure he had run through since then! He smiledas he thought that none of the folks at Market Drayton would recognize, in the muscular, strapping, suntanned seaman, the slim boy of WilcoteGrange. His imagination had woven many a chain of incident, and set himin many a strange place; but never had it presented a picture of himselfin command of as mixed a crew as was ever thrown together, navigatingunknown waters without chart or compass, a fugitive from the chains of anEastern despot. 

His quick fancy was busy even now. He felt that it was not for nothing hehad been brought into his present plight; and at the back of his mind wasthe belief, founded on his strong wish and hope, that the magnetism ofClive's personality, which he had felt so strongly at Market Drayton, wasstill influencing his career. 

At midnight Fuzl Khan relieved him at the wheel, and he turned in. Hissleep was troubled. It was a warm night--unusually warm for the time ofyear. There were swarms of cockroaches and rats on board; the cockroacheshuge beasts, three times the size of those that overran the kitchen athome; the rats seeming as large as the rabbits he had been wont to shooton the farm. They scurried about with their little restless noises, whichusually would have had no power to break his sleep; but now they worriedhim. He scared them into silence for a moment by striking upon the floor;but the rustle and clipper clapper immediately began again. 

After vain efforts to regain his sleep, he at length rose and went ondeck. He did not move with intentional quietness, but he was barefoot, and his steps made no sound. It was a black night, a warm haze almostshutting out the stars. As he reached the deck he heard low murmurs froma point somewhere aft. He had no idea what the time was: Shaik Mahomethad the water clock, with which he timed the watches; and Desmond's couldnot yet be due. Avoiding the spot where the conversation was in progress, he leaned over the bulwarks, and gazed idly at the phosphorescent glowupon the water. 

Then he suddenly became aware that the sounds of talking came from nearthe wheel, and Fuzl Khan was among the talkers. What made the man souncommonly talkative? Seemingly he was taking up the thread where it hadbeen dropped earlier in the night; what was it about?

Desmond asked himself the question without much interest, and was againallowing his thoughts to rove when he caught the word "sahib, " and thenthe word "Firangi" somewhat loudly spoken. Immediately afterwards therewas a low hiss from the Gujarati, as of one warning another to speaklower. The experiences of the past year had quickened Desmond's wits;with reason he had become more suspicious than of yore, and the necessityto be constantly on his guard had made him alert, alive to the leastsuggestion. 

Why had the speaker been hushed--and by Fuzl Khan? He remembered the uglyrumors--the veiled hints he had heard about the man in Gheria. If theywere true, he had sold his comrades who trusted him. They might not betrue; the man himself had always indignantly denied them. Desmond hadnothing against him. So far he had acted loyally enough; but then he hadnothing to gain by playing his fellow fugitives false, and it was withthis knowledge that Desmond had decided to make him privy to the escape. 

But now they were clear of Gheria. Fuzl Khan was free like the rest; hehad no longer the same inducement to play straight if his interest seemedto him to clash with the general. Yet it was not easy to see how such aclashing could occur. Like the others he was lost at sea; until land wasreached, at any rate, he could have no motive for opposition or mutiny. 

While these, thoughts were passing through Desmond's mind he heard a manrise from the group aft and come forward. Instinctively he moved from theside of the vessel towards the mainmast, and as the man drew near Desmondstood so that the stout tree trunk was between them. The man went rapidlytowards the bows, and in a low tone hailed the lookout, whispering him asummons to join the Gujarati at the helm. The lookout, one of theMarathas, left his post; he came aft with the messenger, and both passingon the same side of the vessel, Desmond by dodging round the mast escapedtheir notice. 

At the best, the action of Fuzl Khan was a dereliction of duty; at theworst!--Desmond could not put his suspicions into words. It was clearthat something was afoot, and he resolved to find out what it was. Verycautiously he followed the two men. Bending low, and keeping under theshadow of the bulwarks, he crept to within a few feet of the almostinvisible group. A friendly coil of rope near the taffrail gave himadditional cover; but the night was so dark that he ran little risk ofbeing perceived so long as the men remained stationary. He himself couldbarely see the tall form of the Gujarati dimly outlined against the sky. 

Chapter 16: In which a mutiny is quelled in a minute; and our Babu proveshimself a man of war. 

Crouching low, Desmond waited. When the Maratha joined the groups FuzlKhan addressed him directly in a low firm tone. 

"We are all agreed, Nanna, " he said. "You are the only man wanting to ourpurpose. This is the fastest grab on the coast. I know a port where wecan get arms and ammunition; with a few good men (and I know where theycan be found), we can make a strong band, and grow rich upon our spoils. "

"But what about the sahib?"

"Wah! We know what these Firangi are like--at least the Angrezi{English}. They have the heads of pigs: there is no moving them. It wouldbe vain to ask the young sahib to join us; his mind is set on getting toBombay and telling all his troubles to the Company. What a folly! Andwhat an injustice to us! It would destroy our chance of making ourfortunes, for what would happen? The grab would be sold; the sahib wouldtake the most of the price; we should get a small share, not enough tohelp us to become rovers of the sea and our own masters. "

"The sahib will refuse, then. So be it! But what then shall we do withhim?"

"He will not get the chance of refusing. He will not be told. "

"But he is taking us to Bombay. How then can we work our will?"

"He thinks he is sailing to Bombay: he will really take us to Cutch. "

"How that, brother?"

"Does he know Bombay? Of a truth no. He is a boy, he has never sailedthese seas. He depends on us. Suppose we come in sight of Bombay, whowill tell him? Nobody. If he asks, we will say it is some other place:how can he tell? We will run past Bombay until we are within sight ofCutch: then truly I will do the rest. "

The Maratha did not reply. The momentary silence was broken by Fuzl Khanagain. 

"See! Put the one thing in the balance against the other: how does itturn? On the one side the twenty rupees--a pitiful sum--promised by thesahib: and who knows he will keep his promise? On the other, a tenthshare for each of you in the grab and whatsoever prey falls to it. "

"Then the Babu is to have a share? Of a truth he is a small man, a harein spirit; does he merit an equal share with us? We are elephants tohim. "

"No. He will have no share. He will go overboard. "

"Why, then, what of the tenth share?"

"It will be mine. I shall be your leader and take two. "

Desmond had heard enough. The Gujarati was showing himself in his truecolors. His greed was roused, and the chance of setting up as a pirate onhis own account, and making himself a copy of the man whose prisoner hehad been, had prompted this pretty little scheme. Desmond creptnoiselessly away and returned to his quarters. Not to sleep; he spent theremainder of his watch below in thinking out his position--in trying todevise some means of meeting this new and unexpected difficulty. He hadnot heard what Fuzl Khan proposed ultimately to do with him. He mightshare the Babu's fate: at the best it would appear that he had shaken offone captivity to fall into the toils of another. 

He had heard grim tales of the pirates of the Cambay Gulf; they were notlikely to prove more pleasant masters than the Marathas farther south, even if they did not prefer to put him summarily out of the way. Hispresence among them might prove irksome, and what would the death of asingle English youth matter? He was out of reach of all of his friends;on the Good Intent none but Bulger and the New Englander had any realkindness for him, and if Bulger were to mention at any port that a youngEnglish lad was in captivity with the Pirate, what could be done? Shouldthe projected expedition against Gheria prove successful, and he not befound among the European prisoners, it would be assumed that he was nolonger living; and even if the news of his escape became known, it wasabsurd to suppose that all India would be searched for him. 

The outlook, from any point of view, was gloomy. The Gujarati hadevidently won over the whole ship's company. Were they acting from theinclination for a rover's life, coupled with the hope of gain, or hadthey been jockeyed into mutiny by Fuzl Khan? Desmond could not tell, norcould he find out without betraying a knowledge of the plot. 

Then he remembered the Babu. He alone had been excepted; the other menheld him in contempt; but despite his weaknesses, for which he was indeedhardly accountable, Desmond had a real liking for him; and it was anunpleasant thought that, whatever happened to himself, if the plotsucceeded, Surendra Nath was doomed. 

But thinking of this, Desmond saw one ray of hope. He had not been forlong the companion of men of different castes without picking up a fewnotions of what caste meant. The Babu was a Brahman; as a Bengali he hadno claim on the sympathies of the others; but as a Brahman his person toother Hindus was inviolable. The Marathas were Hindus, and they at leastwould not willingly raise their hand against him. Yet Desmond could notbe certain on this point. During his short residence in Gheria he hadfound that, in the East as too often in the West, the precepts ofreligion were apt to be kept rather in the letter than in the spirit. Hehad seen the sacred cow, which no good Hindu would venture to kill foruntold gold, atrociously overworked, and, when too decrepit to be offurther service, left to perish miserably of neglect and starvation. Itmight be that although the Marathas would not themselves lay hands on theBabu, they would be quite content to look calmly on while a Mohammedandid the work. 

At the best, it was Desmond and the Babu against the crew--hopeless odds, for if it came to a fight the latter would be worse than useless. Notthat Desmond held the man in such scorn as the men of his own color. Surendra Nath was certainly timid and slack, physically weak, temperamentally a coward: yet he had shown gleams of spirit during theescape, and it seemed to Desmond that he was a man who, having once beeninduced to enter upon a course, might prove both constant and loyal. Thedifficulty now was that, prostrated by his illness during the storm, hewas not at his best; certainly in no condition to face a difficultyeither mental or physical. 

So Desmond resolved not to tell him of the danger impending. He fearedthe effect upon his shaken nerves. He would not intentionally do anythingagainst Desmond's interest, but he could scarcely fail to betray hisanxiety to the conspirators. Feeling that there was nobody to confide in, Desmond decided that his only course was to feign ignorance of what wasgoing on, and await events with what composure he might. Not that hewould relax his watchfulness; on the contrary he was alert and keen, ready to seize with manful grip the skirts of chance. 

Perhaps, he thought, the grab might fall in with a British ship. But whatwould that avail? The grab with her extraordinary sailing powers couldshow a clean pair of heels to any Indiaman, however fast, even if hecould find an opportunity of signaling for help. Fuzl Khan, withoutdoubt, would take care that he never had such a chance. 

Turning things over in his mind, and seeing no way out of his difficulty, he was at length summoned to relieve the Gujarati at the wheel. It was, he supposed, about four in the morning, and still pitch dark. When hecame to the helm Fuzl Khan was alone: there was nothing to betray thefact that the plotters had, but little before, been gathered around him. The lookout, who had left his post to join the group, had returnedforward, and was now being relieved, like the Gujarati himself. 

Desmond exchanged a word or two with the man, and was left alone at thewheel. His mind was still set on the problem how to frustrate the schemeof the mutineers. He was convinced that if the grab once touched shore atany point save Bombay his plight would be hopeless. But how could heguard against the danger? Even if he could keep the navigation of thegrab entirely in his own hands by remaining continuously at the helm, hewas dependent on the plotters for information about the coast; to misleadhim would be the easiest thing in the world. But it suddenly occurred tohim that he might gain time by altering the course of the vessel. If hekept out of sight of land he might increase the chance of some diversionoccurring. 

Accordingly he so contrived that the grab lost rather than gained in hertacks against the light northwest wind now blowing. None of the men, except possibly the Gujarati, had sufficient seamanship to detect thismanoeuver; he had gone below, and when he came on deck again he could nottell what progress had been made during his absence. Only the mainsail, foresail, and one topsail were set: these were quite enough for theuntrained crew to trim in the darkness--likely to prove too much, indeed, in the event of a sudden squall. Thus the process of going about was along and laborious one, and at the best much way was lost. 

Not long after he had begun to act on this idea he was somewhat concernedto see the serang, who was in charge of the deck watch, come aft and hangabout near the wheel, as though his curiosity had been aroused. Had heany suspicions? Desmond resolved to address the man and see what he couldinfer from the manner of his reply. 

"Is all well, serang?"

"All well, sahib, " answered the man. He stopped, and seemed to hesitatewhether to say more; but after a moment or two he moved slowly away. 

Desmond watched him. Had he discovered the trick? Would he go below andwaken Fuzl Khan? Desmond could not still a momentary tremor. But theserang did not rejoin his mess mates, nor go below. He walked up and downthe deck alone. Apparently he suspected nothing. 

Desmond felt relieved; but though he was gaining time, he could butrecognize that it seemed likely to profit him little. A criminal going toexecution may step never so slowly across the prison yard; there is theinexorable gallows at the end, and certain doom. 

Could he not force matters, Desmond wondered? It was evidently to be acontest, whether of wits or physical strength, between himself and theGujarati. Without one or other the vessel could not be safely navigated;if he could in some way overcome the ringleader, he felt pretty sure thatthe crew would accept the result and all difficulty would be at an end. But how could he gain so unmistakable an ascendancy? In physical strengthFuzl Khan was more than his match: there was no doubt of the issue of astruggle if it were a matter of sheer muscular power. 

For a moment he thought of attempting to enlist the Marathas on his side. They were Hindus; the Gujarati was a Muslim; and they must surely feelthat, once he was among his co-religionists in Cutch, in some piratestronghold, they would run a very poor chance of getting fair treatment. But he soon dismissed the idea. The Gujarati must seem to them much moreformidable than the stripling against whom he was plotting. The Hindu, even more than the average human being elsewhere, is inclined to attachimportance to might and bulk--even to mere fat. If he sounded theMarathas, and, their fear of the Gujarati outweighing their inevitabledistrust of him as a Firangi, they betrayed him to curry a little favor, there was no doubt that the fate both of himself and the Babu wouldinstantly be decided. He must trust to himself alone. 

While he was still anxiously debating the matter with himself his eyecaught the two muskets lashed to the wooden framework supporting thewheel. He must leave no hostages to fortune. Taking advantage of a lullin the wind he steadied the wheel with his body, and with some difficultydrew the charges and dropped them into the sea. If it came to a tusslethe enemy would certainly seize the muskets; it would be worth somethingto Desmond to know that they were not loaded. It was, in truth, but aslight lessening of the odds against him; and as he restored the weaponsto their place he felt once more how hopeless his position remained. 

Thus pondering and puzzling, with no satisfaction, he spent the fullperiod of his term of duty. At the appointed time Fuzl Khan came torelieve him. It was now full daylight; but, scanning the horizon with arestless eye, Desmond saw no sign of land, nor the sail of any vessel. 

"No land yet, sahib?" said the Gujarati, apparently in surprise. 

"No, as you see. "

"But you set the course by the stars, sahib?"

"Oh, yes; the grab must have been going slower than we imagined. "

"The wind has not shifted?"

"Very little. I have had to tack several times. "

The man grunted, and looked at Desmond, frowning suspiciously, butDesmond met his glance boldly, and said, as he left to go below:

"Be sure and have me called the moment you sight land. "

He went below, threw himself into his hammock, and being dead tired, wassoon fast asleep. 

Some hours later he was called by the Babu. 

"Sahib, they say land is in sight at last. I am indeed thankful. To thelandlubber the swell of waves causes nauseating upheaval. "

"'Tis good news indeed, " said Desmond, smiling. "Come on deck with me. "

They went up together. The vessel was bowling along under a brisksouthwester, which he found had been blowing steadily almost from themoment he had left the helm. The land was as yet but a dim line on thehorizon; it was necessary to stand in much closer if any of the landmarkswere to be recognized. He took the wheel; the shade on the sea linegradually became more definite; and in the course of an hour they openedup a fort somewhat similar in appearance to that of Gheria. All theship's company were now on deck, looking eagerly shorewards. 

"Do you know the place?" asked Desmond of the Gujarati unconcernedly. 

The man gazed at it intently for a minute or so. 

"Yes, sahib; it is Suwarndrug, " he said. "Is it not, Nanna?"

"Yes, of a truth; it is Suwarndrug; I was there a month ago, " replied theMaratha. 

"What do you say, Gulam?" he continued, turning to one of the Biluchisstanding near. 

"It is Suwarndrug. I have seen it scores of times. No one can mistakeSuwarndrug. See, there is the hill; and there is the mango grove. Oh, yes, certainly it is Suwarndrug. "

At this moment four grabs were seen beating out of the harbor. Fuzl Khanuttered an exclamation; then, turning to Desmond, he said with a note ofanxiety:

"It is best to put about at once, sahib. See the grabs! They may beenemies. "

Desmond's heart gave a jump; his pulse beat more quickly under the stressof a sudden inspiration. He felt convinced that the fortress was notSuwarndrug; the Gujarati's anxiety to pile up testimony to the contrarywas almost sufficient in itself to prove that. If not Suwarndrug, it wasprobably one of Angria's strongholds, possibly Kulaba. In that case thegrabs now beating out were certainly the Pirate's, and the men knew it. 

Here was an opportunity, probably the only one that would occur, ofgrappling with the mutiny. The crew would be torn by conflictingemotions; with the prospect of recapture by Angria their action would beparalyzed; if he could take advantage of their indecision he might yetgain the upper hand. It was a risky venture; but the occasion wasdesperate. He could afford for the present to neglect the distant grabs, for none of the vessels on the coast could match the Tremukji in speed, and bend all his energies upon the more serious danger on board. 

"Surely it can not be Suwarndrug?" he said, with an appearance ofcomposure that he was far from feeling. "Suwarndrug, you remember, hasbeen captured. The last news at Gheria was that it was in the Company'shands, though there was a rumor that it might be handed over to thePeshwa. We should not now see Angria's grabs coming out of Suwarndrug. But if it is Suwarndrug, Fuzl Khan, why put about? As fugitives fromGheria we should be assured of a welcome at Suwarndrug. We should be assafe there as at Bombay. "

The Gujarati was none too quick witted. He was patently taken aback, andhesitated for a reply. The grab was standing steadily on her courseshorewards. Desmond was to all appearance unconcerned; but the crew werelooking at one another uneasily, and the Gujarati's brow was darkening;his fidgetiness increasing. Surendra Nath was the only man among thenatives who showed no anxiety. He was leaning on the taffrail, gazingalmost gloatingly at the land, and paying no heed to the strangesituation around him. 

Desmond was watching the Gujarati keenly. The man's manner fullyconfirmed his suspicions, and even in the tenseness of the moment he felta passing amusement at the big fellow's puzzle-headed attempts to inventan explanation that would square with the facts. Failing to hit upon aplausible argument, he began to bluster. 

"You, Firangi, heed what I say. It is not for us to run risks: the hinddoes not walk open eyed into the tiger's mouth. The grab must be putabout immediately. "

"Who is in command?" asked Desmond quietly; "you or I?"

"We share it. I can navigate as well as you. "

"You forget our arrangement in Gheria. You agreed that I should command. "

"Yes, but at the pleasure of the rest. We are ten; we will have our way;the grab must be put about, at once. 

"Not by me. "

Desmond felt what was coming and braced himself to meet it. 

Then things happened with startling rapidity. The Gujarati, with a yellof rage, made a rush towards the wheel. Knowing what to expect, Desmondslipped behind it and with a few light steps gained the deck forward. Fuzl Khan shouted to the serang to take the helm and steer the vessel outto sea; then set off in headlong pursuit of Desmond, who had now turnedand stood awaiting the attack. 

The Gujarati did not even trouble to draw his knife. He plunged at himlike a bull, shouting that he would deal with the pig of a Firangi as hehad dealt with the sentinel at Gheria. 

But it was not for nothing that Desmond had fought a dozen battles forthe possession of Clive's desk at school, and a dozen more for the honorof the school against the town; that his muscles had been developed bymonths of hard work at sea and harder work in the dockyard at Gheria. Deftly dodging the man's blind rush, he planted his bare feet firmly andthrew his whole weight into a terrific body blow that sent the bigger manwith a thud to the deck. Panting, breathless, trembling with fury, FuzlKhan sprang to his feet, caught sight of the muskets, and tearing onefrom its fastenings raised it to his shoulder. 

Desmond seized the moment with a quickness that spoke volumes for hiswill's absolute mastery of his body. As the man pulled the harmlesstrigger, Desmond leaped at him; a crashing blow between the eyes sent himstaggering against the wheel; a second while he tottered brought him limpand almost stunned to the deck. 

Meanwhile the crew had looked on for a few breathless moments inamazement at this sudden turn of affairs. But as the Gujarati fellDesmond heard a noise behind him. Half turning, he saw Shaik Abdullahrushing towards him with a marlinspike. The man had him at adisadvantage, for he was breathless from his tussle with Fuzl Khan; butat that moment a dark object hurtled through the air, striking this newantagonist at the back of the head, and hurling him a lifeless lump intothe scuppers. 

Desmond looked round in wonderment: who among the crew had thusbefriended him so opportunely? His wonder was not lessened when he sawthe Babu, trembling like a leaf, his eyes blazing, his dusky faceindescribably changed. At the sight of Desmond's peril the Bengali, forgetting his weakness, exalted above his timidity, had caught up withboth hands a round nine-pounder shot that lay on deck, and in a suddenstrength of fury had hurled it at the Biluchi. His aim was fatally true;the man was killed on the spot. 

With his eyes Desmond thanked the Babu; there was no time for words. Thehostile grabs were undoubtedly making chase. They had separated, with theintention of bearing down upon and overhauling the Tremukji in whateverdirection she might flee. Fuzl Khan still lay helpless upon the deck. 

"Secure that man, " said Desmond to two of the crew. 

He spoke curtly and sternly, with the air of one who expected his ordersto be executed without question; though he felt a touch of anxiety lestthe men should still defy him. But they went about their task instantlywithout a word: Desmond's bold stand, and the swift overthrow of the bigGujarati, had turned the tide in his favor, and he thrilled with reliefand keen pleasure that he was master of the situation. 

While the ringleader of the mutineers was being firmly bound, Desmondturned to Nanna and said:

"Now, answer me at once. What is that place?"

"It is Kulaba, sahib. "

"Where is Kulaba?"

"A few miles south of Bombay, sahib. "

"Good. Run up the fore-topsail. "

He went to the wheel. 

"Thank you, serang. I will relieve you. Go forward and see that the mencrowd on all sail. "

The mutiny had been snuffed out; the men went about their work quietly, with the look of whipped dogs; and barring accidents Desmond knew thatbefore long he would make Bombay and be safe. With every stitch of canvasset, the vessel soon showed that she had the heels of her pursuers. Before she could draw clear, two of them came within range with their bowchasers, and their shot whistled around somewhat too close to becomfortable. But she steadily drew ahead, and ere long it was seen thatthe four grabs were being hopelessly outpaced. They kept up the chase forthe best part of an hour, but as they neared the British port theyrecognized that they were running into danger and had the discretion todraw off. 

Now that the pursuit was over, Desmond ventured to steer due northeast, and the coastline became more distinctly visible. It was about twoo'clock in the afternoon, judging by the height of the sun, when theserang, pointing shorewards, said:

"There is Bombay, sahib. "

"You are sure?"

"Yes; I know it by the cluster of palmyra trees. No one can mistakethem. "

Moment by moment the town and harbor came more clearly into view. Desmondsaw an extensive castle, a flag flying on its pinnacled roof, set amid agreen mass of jungle and cocoanut forest, with a few Portuguese-builthouses dotted here and there. In front a narrow jungle-clad island, called, as he afterwards learned, Old Woman Island, stretched like a spitinto the sea. To the left of the fort, at the head of a small bay, wasthe Bunder pier, with the warehouses at the shore end. Still farther tothe left were the docks and the marine yards, and; at the extremity ofthe island on which Bombay stands, a frowning bastion. 

Feeling that he had now nothing more to fear, Desmond ordered Fuzl Khanto be cast loose and brought to him. The man wore a look of sullensurprise, which Desmond cheerfully ignored. 

"Now, Fuzl Khan, " he said, "we are running into Bombay harbor. You knowthe channel?"

The man grunted a surly affirmative. 

"Well, you will take the helm, and steer us in to the most convenientmoorings. "

He turned away, smiling at the look of utter consternation on theGujarati's face. To be trusted after his treacherous conduct wasevidently more than the man could understand. The easy unconcern withwhich Desmond walked away had its effect on the crew. When orders weregiven to take in sail they carried them out with promptitude, and Desmondchuckled as he saw them talking to one another in low tones anddiscussing him, as he guessed by their glances in his direction. 

The Gujarati performed his work at the helm skilfully, and about fiveo'clock, when the sun was setting, casting a romantic glow over the longstraggling settlement, the Tremukji ran to her anchorage among a host ofsmall craft, within a few cable lengths of the vessels of AdmiralWatson's squadron, which had arrived from Madras a few weeks before. 

Chapter 17: In which our hero finds himself among friends;and Colonel Clive prepares to astonish Angria. 

The entrance of a strange grab had not passed unnoticed. Before theanchor had been dropped, the harbor master put off in a toni. 

"What grab is that?" he shouted in Urdu, as he came alongside. 

"The Tremukji, sir, " replied Desmond in English. 

"Eh! what! who in the name of Jupiter are you?"

"You'd better come aboard, sir, and I'll explain, " said Desmond with asmile. 

The harbor master mounted the side, rapping out sundry exclamations ofastonishment that amused Desmond not a little. 

"Don't talk like a native! H'm! Queer! Turn him inside out! No nonsense!"

"Well, here I am, " he added, stepping up to Desmond. "My name's Johnson, and I'm harbor master. Now then, explain; no nonsense. "

Desmond liked the look of the little man. He was short and stout, with avery large red face, a broad turn-up nose, and childlike blue eyes thatbespoke confidence at once. 

"My name is Desmond Burke, sir, and I've run away from Gheria in thisgrab. "

"The deuce you have!"

"Yes, sir. I've been a prisoner there for six months and more, and we gotoff a few nights ago in the darkness. "

"H'm! Any more Irishmen aboard?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir. "

"And you got away from Gheria, did you? You're the first that ever Iheard did so. Nothing to do with Commodore James, eh?"

"No, sir. I don't know what you mean. "

"Why, Commodore James started t'other day to take a good sea-look atGheria. There's an expedition getting ready to draw that rascallyPirate's teeth. You saw nothing of the squadron? No nonsense, now. "

"Not a thing, sir. We were blown out to sea, and I suppose the commodorepassed us in the night. "

"H'm! Very likely. And you weathered that storm, did you? Learned yourseamanship, eh?"

"Picked up a little on board the Good Intent, sir. I was ship's boyaboard. "

"Mighty queer ship's boy!" said Mr. Johnson in an audible aside. "TheGood Intent's a villainous interloper; how came you aboard of her?"

"I was in a sense tricked into it, sir, and when we got to Gheria CaptainBarker and Mr. Diggle, the supercargo, sold me to Angria. "

"Sold you to the Pirate?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And where do you hail from, then?"

"Shropshire, sir; my father was Captain Richard Burke in the Company'sservice. "

"Jupiter! You're Dick Burke's son! Gad, sir, give me your hand; I knewDick Burke; many's the sneaker of Bombay punch we've tossed off together. No nonsense about Dick; give me your fist. 

"And so you sneaked out of Gheria and sailed this grab, eh? Well, you'rea chip of the old block, and a credit to your old dad. I want to hear allabout this. And you'll have to come ashore and see the governor. "

"It's very kind of you, Mr. Johnson, but really I can't appear before thegovernor in this rig. "

He glanced ruefully at his bare legs and feet and tattered garments. 

"True, you en't very shipshape, but we'll soon alter that. Ever use arazor?"

"Not yet, sir, " replied Desmond with a smile. 

"Thought not. Plenty of native barbers. You must get shaved. And I'll rigyou up in a suit of some sort. You must see the governor at once, and nononsense. "

"What about the grab, sir?"

"Leave that to me. You've got a pretty mixed crew, I see. All escapedprisoners, too?"

"All but four. "

"And not one of 'em to be trusted, I'll swear. Well, I'll put a crewaboard to take charge. Come along; there's no time to lose. Colonel Clivegoes to bed early. "

"Colonel Clive! Is he here?"

"Yes; arrived from home two days ago. Ah! that reminds me; you're aShropshire lad; so's he; do you know him?"

"No, sir; I've seen him; I--I--"

Desmond stammered, remembering his unfortunate encounter with Clive inBilliter Street. 

"Well, well, " said the harbor master, with a quizzical look; "you'll seehim again. Come along. "

Desmond accompanied Mr. Johnson on shore. A crowd had gathered. Therewere Sepoys in turban, cabay {cloak}, and baggy drawers; bearded Arabs;Parsis in their square caps; and a various assortment of habitues of theshore--crimps, landsharks, badmashes {bad characters}, bunder {port}gangs. Seeing Desmond hold his nose at the all-prevailing stench of fish, Mr. Johnson laughed. 

"You'll soon get used to that, " he said. "'Tis all fish oil and bummaloes{small fish the size of smelt, known when dried as 'Bombay duck'} inBombay. "

Having sent a trustworthy crew on board the Tremukji, the harbor masterled Desmond to his house near the docks. Here, while a native barberplied his dexterous razor on Desmond's cheeks and chin, Mr. Johnsonsearched through a miscellaneous hoard of clothes in one of his capaciouspresses for an outfit. He found garments that proved a reasonable fit, and Desmond, while dressing, gave a rapid sketch of his adventures sincehe left the prison shed in Gheria. 

"My wigs, but you've had a time of it. Mutiny and all! Dash my buttons, here's a tale for the ladies! Let me look at you. Yes, you'll do now, andfaith you're a pretty fellow. And Dick Burke's son! You've got his noseto a T; no nonsense about that. Now you're ready to make your bow to Mr. Bourchier. He's been a coursing match with Colonel Clive and Mr. Watson{it was customary to use the title Mr. In speaking to or of both navaland military officers} up Malabar Hill, and we'll catch him before hesits down to supper. 

"How do you feel inside, by the way? Ready for a decent meal after thePirate's pig's wash, eh?"

"I'm quite comfortable inside, " said Desmond, smiling, "but, to tell youthe truth, Mr. Johnson, I feel mighty uneasy outside. After six months ofthe dhoti these breeches and things seem just like bandages. "

"It en't the first time you've been swaddled, if you had a mother. Wellnow, if you're ready. What! That rascal gashed you! Tuts! 'tis a scratch. Can't wait to doctor that. Come on. "

The two made their way into the fort inclosure, and walked rapidly to theGovernment House in the center. In answer to Mr. Johnson the darwan{doorkeeper} at the door said that the governor would not return thatnight. After the coursing match he was giving a supper party at hiscountry house at Parell. 

"That's a nuisance. But we can't have any nonsense. The governor's a bitof an autocrat; too much starch in his shirt, I say; but we'll go out toParell and beard him, by Jove! 'Tis only five miles out, and we'll drivethere in under an hour. "

Turning away he hurried out past the tank house on to the Green, and bygood luck found an empty shigram {carriage like a palanquin on wheels}waiting to be hired. Desmond mounted the vehicle with no littlecuriosity. These great beasts with their strange humps would surely notcover five miles in less than an hour. But he was undeceived when theystarted. The two sturdy oxen trotted along at a good pace in obedience tothe driver's goad, and the shigram rattled across Bombay Green, past thechurch and the whitewashed houses of the English merchants, theiroyster-shell windows already lit up; and in some forty-five minutesentered a long avenue leading to Mr. Bourchier's country house. Twiceduring the course of the journey Desmond was interested to see theshigramwallah {wallah is a personal affix, denoting a close connectionbetween the person and the thing described by the main word. Shigramwallah thus is carriage driver} pull his team up, dismount, and, going to their heads, insert his hand in their mouths. 

"What does he do that for?" he asked. 

"To clear their throats, to be sure. When the beasts go at this pace theymake a terrible lot of foam, and if he didn't swab it out they'd choke, and no nonsense. 

"Well, here we are. Dash my wig, won't his Excellency open his eyes!"

Since their departure from the fort the sky had become quite dark. At theend of the avenue they could see the lights of Governor Bourchier'sbungalow, and by and by caught sight of figures sitting on the veranda. Desmond's heart beat high; he made no doubt that one of them was Clive;the moment to which he had looked forward so eagerly was at last at hand. He was in no dream land; but his dream had come true. He felt a littlenervous at the prospect of meeting men so famous, so immeasurably abovehim, as Clive and Admiral Watson; but with Clive he felt a bond of unionin his birthplace, and it was with recovered confidence that he sprangout of the cart and accompanied Mr. Johnson to the bungalow. He wasfurther reassured by a jolly laugh that rang out just as he reached thesteps leading up to the veranda. 

"Hullo, Johnson, " said a voice, "what does this mean?"

"I've come to see the governor, Captain. "

"Then you couldn't have come at a worse time. The supper's half an hourlate, and you know what that means to the governor. "

Mr. Johnson smiled. 

"He'll forget his supper when he has heard my news. 'Tis about thePirate. "

"What's that?" said another voice. "News of the Pirate?"

"Yes, Mr. Watson. This young gentleman--"

But he was interrupted by the khansaman {butler}, who came out at thismoment and with a salaam announced that supper was served. 

"You'd better come in, Johnson, " said the first speaker. "Any news of thePirate will be sauce to Mr. Bourchier's goose. "

The gentlemen rose from their seats, and went into the house, followed byDesmond and the harbor master. In a moment Desmond found himself in alarge room brilliantly lighted with candles. In the center was a roundtable, and Mr. Bourchier, the governor, was placing his guests. He didnot look very pleasant, and when he saw Mr. Johnson he said:

"You come at a somewhat unseasonable hour, sir. Can not your businesswait till the morning?"

"I made bold to come, your Excellency, because 'tis a piece of news thelike of which no one in Bombay has ever heard before. This younggentleman, Mr. Desmond Burke, son of Captain Burke, whom you'll remember, sir, has escaped from Gheria. "

The governor and his guests were by this time seated, and instantly alleyes were focused on Desmond, and exclamations of astonishment broke fromtheir lips. 

"Indeed! Bring chairs, Hossain. "

One of the native attendants left the room noiselessly, and returningwith chairs placed them at the table. 

"Sit down, gentlemen. This is amazing news, as you say, Mr. Johnson. Perhaps Mr. Burke will relate his adventure as we eat. "

Desmond took the chair set for him. The guests were five. Two of themwore the laced coats of admirals; the taller, a man of handsome presence, with a round chubby face, large eyes, small full lips, his head crownedby a neat curled wig, was Charles Watson, in command of the Britishfleet; the other was his second, Rear Admiral Pocock. A third was RichardKing, captain of an Indiaman, in a blue coat with velvet lappets and goldembroidery, buff waistcoat and breeches. Next him sat a jolly red-facedgentleman in plain attire, and between him and the governor was Clivehimself, whose striking face--the lawyer's brow, the warrior's nose andchin, the dreamer's mouth--would have marked him out in any company. 

Desmond began his story. The barefooted attendants moved quietly aboutwith the dishes, but the food was almost neglected as the six gentlemenlistened to the clear low voice telling of the escape from the fort, thecapture of the grab, and the eventful voyage to Bombay harbor. 

"By George! 'tis a famous adventure, " exclaimed Admiral Watson, when thestory was ended. "What about this Pirate's den? Gheria fort is said to beimpregnable; what are the chances if we attack, eh? The approaches to theharbor, now; do you know the depth of the water?"

"Vessels can stand in to three fathoms water, sir. Seven fathoms iswithin point-blank shot of the fort. The walls are about fifty feet high;there are twenty-seven bastions, and they mount more than two hundredguns. "

"And the opposite shore?"

"A flat tableland, within distance for bombarding. A diversion might bemade from there while the principal attack could be carried on in theharbor, or from a hill south of the fort. "

"Is the landing easy?"

"Yes, sir. There are three sandy bays under the hill, without any surf tomake landing difficult. One is out of the line of fire from the fort. "

"And what about the land side? There's a town, is there not?"

"On a neck of land, sir. There's a wall, but nothing to keep out aconsiderable force. If an attack were made from that side the peoplewould, I think, flock into the fort. "

"And is that as strong as rumor says?"

"'Tis pretty strong, sir; there are double walls, and thick ones; they'dstand a good battering. "

"It seems to me, Admiral, " said the red-faced gentleman with a laugh, "that you've learned all you sent Commodore James to find out. 

"What do you say, Mr. Clive?"

"It seems so, Mr. Merriman. But I think, Mr. Watson, in our eagerness tolearn something of Gheria, we must seem somewhat cavalier to this lad, whose interest in our plans cannot be equal to our own. 

"You have shown, sir, " he added, addressing Desmond, "great spirit andcourage, not less ingenuity, in your daring escape from the Pirate. But Iwant to go farther back. How came you to fall into the Pirate's hands?You have told us only part of your story. "

"Yes, indeed, " said Mr. Bourchier. "If you are not tired, we shall bevastly pleased to hear more, Mr. Burke. "

"Your name is Burke?" interrupted Clive. "I had not before caught it. MayI ask what part of Ireland you come from, sir? Pardon me, but your accentsmacks more of Shropshire than of County Dublin. "

"'Tis Shropshire, sir; I come from Market Drayton. "

("Like yourself!" his glowing cheeks and flashing eyes seemed to say. This was the proudest moment in Desmond's life as yet. )

"I was not mistaken, " said Clive. "I remember a schoolfellow of mine ofyour name; let me see--"

"Richard Burke, sir, my brother; my father was Captain Burke in theCompany's service. "

"Sure I have it now. I remember him: a tall, fine old sea dog whom I sawat times in Market Drayton when I was a child. I had a great awe ofCaptain Burke--i'faith, the only man I was afraid of. And you are hisson!--But come, I am interrupting your story. "

Desmond spoke of his longing for adventure, which had led him to leavehome in search of fortune. He glossed over his brother's ill treatment. He told how he had been inveigled on board the Good Intent, and handedover to Angria when the vessel arrived at Gheria. He mentioned no namesexcept that of Captain Barker, though he could not have explained hismotive in keeping silence about Diggle. 

"Barker is a villain, ripe for the gallows, " said Captain King. "But, Mr. Burke, I don't understand how you came to be so hoodwinked in London. Sure you must have known that a boy without an ounce of experience wouldnever be made supercargo. Had you any enemies in London?"

"I didn't know that I had, sir, till the Good Intent had sailed. I wasdeceived, but the man who promised me the berth was very friendly, and Ididn't suspect him. "

"It was not Barker, then?"

"No, sir; it was a man I met at Market Drayton. "

"At Market Drayton?" said Clive. "That's odd. What was his name?"

"His name was Diggle, and--"

"A stranger? I remember no one of that name, " said Clive. 

"I thought he was a stranger, sir; but of late I have begun to suspect hewas not such a stranger as he seemed. "

"How did you meet him?"

"Accidentally, sir, the night of your banquet in Market Drayton. "

"Indeed! 'Tis all vastly curious. Was he lodging in the town?"

"He came in from Chester that night and lodged at the Four Alls. "

"With that disreputable sot Grinsell!" Clive paused. "Did he tell youanything about himself?"

"Very little, sir, except that he'd been unlucky. I think he mentionedonce that he was a fellow at a Cambridge college, but he spoke to me mostabout India. "

As he put his questions Clive leaned forward, and seemed to become morekeenly interested with every answer. He now turned and gave a hard lookat the bluff man whom he had called Mr. Merriman. The rest of the companywere silent. 

"Do you happen to know whether he went up to the Hall?" asked Clive. 

"Sir Willoughby's? I met him several times walking in that neighborhood, but I don't think he went to the Hall. He did not appear to know SirWilloughby. --And yet, sir, I remember now that I heard Diggle andGrinsell talking about the squire the night I first saw them together atthe Four Alls. "

"And you were with this--Diggle, in London, Mr. Burke?"

"Yes, sir. "

Desmond began to feel uncomfortable. Clive had evidently not recognizedhim before, and he was hoping that the unfortunate incident in BilliterStreet would not be recalled. Clive's next words made him wish to sinkinto the floor. 

"Do you remember, Mr. Burke, in London, throwing yourself in the way of agentleman that was in pursuit of your friend Mr. Diggle, and bringing himto the ground?"

"Yes, sir, I did, and I am sorry for it. "

Desmond did not like the grim tone of Clive's voice; he wished he wouldaddress him as "my lad" instead of "Mr. Burke. "

"That was a bad start, let me say, Mr. Burke--an uncommonly bad start. "

"Oh come, Mr. Clive!" broke in Mr. Merriman, "say no more about that. Theboy was in bad company: 'twas not his fault. In truth, 'twas my ownfault: I am impetuous; the sight of that scoundrel was too much for me. 

"I bear you no grudge, my lad, though I had a bump on my head for a weekafterwards. Had you not tripped me I should have run my rapier throughthe villain, and there would like have been an end of me. "

"Shall I tell the boy, Mr. Merriman?" said Clive. 

"Not now, not now, " said Merriman quickly. 

The other gentlemen, during this dialogue, had been discussing theinformation they had gained about Gheria fort. 

"Well, " said Clive, "you are lucky, let me tell you, Mr. Burke, to be outof this Diggle's clutches. By the way, have you seen him since he soldyou to the Pirate?"

"He came a few days before I escaped, and wanted me to come here as aspy. Angria promised me my freedom and a large sum of money. "

"What's that?" cried Merriman. "Wanted you to come as a spy?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And what did you say?"

"I told him he might do it himself. "

"A palpable hit!" said Merriman with a grim laugh, "and a very properanswer. But he'll have more respect for his skin. "

"Gentlemen, " said Mr. Bourchier, "we have kept Mr. Burke talking so muchthat he hasn't had a mouthful of food. I think we might go out on theveranda and smoke our cigars while he takes some supper. 

"Mr. Johnson, you've done most justice to my viands, I think. Perhaps youwill join us. "

The harbor master became purple in the face. He had in fact been eatingand drinking with great gusto, taking advantage of the preoccupation ofthe company to insure that the excellent fare should not be wasted. Herose hurriedly and, with a sheepish look that scarcely fitted hischeerful features, followed his sarcastic host to the veranda. All theguests save Mr. Merriman accompanied Mr. Bourchier. 

"They all want to talk shop; this expedition against the Pirate, " saidMr. Merriman. "You and I can have a little chat. "

Desmond was attracted by the open face of his new acquaintance, slightlydisfigured, as he noticed, by a long scar on the left temple. 

"You're plucky and lucky, " continued Merriman, "and in spite of what Mr. Clive calls your bad start in bowling me over, you'll do well. "

His face clouded as he went on. 

"That man Diggle: why should he have sold you to the Pirate: what had heagainst you?"

"I can not imagine, sir. "

"You are lucky to have escaped him, as Mr. Clive said. I think--yes, Iwill tell you about him. His name is not Diggle; it is Simon Peloti. Heis a nephew of Sir Willoughby's. His mother married a Greek, against herbrother's wish; the man died when the child was a year old. As a boyPeloti was as charming a little fellow as one could wish: handsome, highspirited, clever. He did well at school, and afterwards at Cambridge: wona fellowship there. Then he went to the dogs--not all at once; men neverdo. He was absolutely without principle, and thought of nothing but hisown ease and success. One thing led to another; at last, in theforty-five--"

He paused. After a moment he went on:

"I had a brother, my lad--"

He stopped again, his face expressing poignant grief. 

"I know, sir, " said Desmond. "Sir Willoughby told me. "

"He told you! He did not mention Peloti?"

"No, sir; but I see it all now. It was Diggle--Peloti, I mean--whobetrayed your brother. I understand now why the squire took no stepsagainst Grinsell. His accomplice was Diggle. "

He related the incident of the house breakers. 

"Yes, " said Merriman, "that throws a light on things. Peloti, I imagine, had previously seen the squire, and tried to get money from him. SirWilloughby refused: he gave him a thousand pounds ten years ago oncondition he left the country and did not return. So the villain resolvedto rob him. 'Twas fortunate indeed you appeared in time. That is thereason for his hating you. "

"There was another, sir, " said Desmond with some hesitation. "He thoughtI was hankering after the squire's property--aiming at becoming his heir. 'Twas ridiculous, sir; such an idea never entered my head. "

"I see. Peloti came to India and got employment in the Company's serviceat Madras. But he behaved so badly that he had to be turned out--he saidMr. Clive hounded him out. What became of him after that I don't know. But let us leave the miserable subject. Tell me, what are your ideas?What are you going to do, now that you are a free man once more? Getanother berth as supercargo?"

His eyes twinkled as he said this. 

"No, thank you, sir; once bit twice shy. I haven't really thought ofanything definite, but what I should like best of all would be acadetship under Colonel Clive. "

"Soho! You're a fighter, are you? But of course you are; I have reason toknow that. Well, we'll see what my friend Mr. Clive says. You've nomoney, I suppose?"

"Not a half penny, sir; but if the governor will admit that the grab ismy lawful prize, I thought of selling her; that will bring me a fewpounds. "

"Capital idea. Punctilio won't stand in the way of that, I should think. Well now, I'll speak to Mr. Clive for you, but don't build too much onit. He cannot give you a commission, I fear, without the authority of thegovernor of Madras; and though no doubt a word from him would beeffectual, he's a very particular man, and you'll have to prove you'refit for a soldier's life. 

"Meanwhile, what do you say to this? I've taken a fancy to you. I'm amerchant; trade pays better than soldiering, in general. I've got shipsof my own, and I dare say I could find a berth for you on one of them. You seem to know something of navigation?"

"Very little, sir; just what I picked up on the Good Intent. "

"Well, that's a beginning. I've no doubt that Admiral Watson will wishyou to go to Gheria with him: your knowledge of the place will be useful. He won't start for a month or two: why not occupy the time in improvingyour navigation, so that if there are difficulties about a cadetshipyou'll be competent for a mate's berth? Nothing like having two stringsto your bow. What do you say to that?"

"'Tis very good of you, sir; I accept with pleasure. "

"That's right. Now when you've finished that curry we'll go out on theveranda. Before you came they were talking of nothing but their dogs; butI wager 'tis nothing but the Pirate now. "

They soon rejoined the other gentlemen. 

"Come, Mr. Burke, " said Admiral Watson, "we've been talking over theinformation you've given us. You've nothing to do, I suppose?"

"I've just suggested that he should read up navigation, Mr. Watson, " saidMerriman. 

"You're a wizard, Mr. Merriman. I was proposing to engage Mr. Burke toaccompany us on our expedition against the Pirate. He can make himselfuseful when we get to Gheria. We'll see how James' information tallieswith his. 

"You won't object to serve his Majesty, Mr. Burke?"

"'Tis what I should like best in the world, sir. "

"Very well. Meanwhile learn all you can; Captain King here will takecharge of you, I've no doubt. "

"Certainly, Mr. Watson. "

"You will give Mr. Burke quarters for the present, Mr. Johnson?" saidMerriman. 

"To be sure. And as 'tis late we'd better be going. 

"Good night, your Excellency; good night, gentlemen. "

Early next day Admiral Watson himself rode down to the harbor to inspectthe grab. He was so much pleased with her that he offered to buy her forthe service. Before the day was out Desmond found himself in possessionof seven thousand rupees. After paying the Marathas the wages agreedupon, he proceeded to divide the balance. He retained two shares forhimself, and gave each of the men who had escaped with him an equal part. 

No one was more surprised than Fuzl Khan when he received his share infull. He had expected to get the punishment he knew he well deserved. ButDesmond, against the advice of the harbor master, determined to overlookthe man's misconduct. He went further. At his request Admiral Watson gavehim a place on the grab. The Gujarati seemed overwhelmed by thisgenerosity on the part of a man he had wronged, and for the noncebreaking through his usual morose reserve, he thanked Desmond, awkwardlyindeed, but with manifest sincerity. 

The other men were no less delighted with their good fortune. The sumsthey received made them rich men for life. None was more elated thanSurendra Nath. It happened that Mr. Merriman came on board to see thegrab at the moment when Desmond was distributing the prize money. Desmondnoticed a curious expression on the Babu's face, and he was compelled tolaugh when the man, after a moment's hesitation, walked up to Mr. Merriman, and with a strange mixture of humility and importance said:

"I wish you a very good morning, your Honor. "

"Good gad!--Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti! I'm uncommonly glad to see you. "

He shook hands warmly, a mark of condescension which made the Babu beamwith gratification. 

"Why, " continued Merriman, "we'd given you up for dead long ago. Soyou're the plucky and ingenious fellow who did so much to help Mr. Burkein the famous escape!

"Surendra Nath was one of my best clerks, Mr. Burke. His father is myhead clerk for Company's business. 

"He hasn't been the same man since you disappeared. You must tell me yourstory. Come up to Mr. Bowman's house on the Green tonight; I am stayingthere. "

"I shall be most glad to return to my desk in Calcutta, your Honor, " saidthe Babu. "But I do not like the sea. It has no sympathy with me. I thinkof accomplishing the journey by land. "

"Good heavens, man! it would take you a year at the least, if you weren'tswallowed by a tiger or strangled by a Thug on the way. You'll have to goby water, as you came. "

The Babu's face fell. 

"That is the fly in the ointment, your Honor. But I will chew majum andbestow myself in the cabin; thus perhaps I may avoid squeamishness. Bythe kindness of Burke Sahib I have a modicum of money, now a smallcapital; and I hope, with your Honor's permission, to do trifling tradefor myself. "

"Certainly, " said Merriman with a laugh. "You'll be a rich man yet, Surendra Nath. Well, don't forget; you'll find me at Mr. Bowman's on theGreen at eight o'clock. "

Chapter 18: In which Angria is astonished; and our hero begins to pay offold scores. 

Time sped quickly. Desmond made the best use of his opportunities oflearning navigation under Captain King and the harbor master, and beforetwo months had expired was pronounced fit to act as mate on the finestEast Indiaman afloat. He took this with a grain of salt. The fact wasthat his adventures, the modesty with which he deprecated all allusionsto his part in the escape from Gheria, and the industry with which heworked, won him the goodwill of all; he was a general favorite with thelittle European community of Bombay. 

Apart from his study, he found plenty to interest him in his sparemoments. The strange mixture of people, the temples and pagodas, thetowers of silence on which the Parsees exposed their dead, the burningpyres of the Hindus on the beach, the gaunt filthy fakirs {religiousmendicant (Mohammedan)} and jogis who whined and told fortunes in thestreets for alms, the exercising of the troops, the refitting andcareening of Admiral Watson's ships--all this provided endless matter forcuriosity and amusement. 

One thing disappointed him. Not once during the two months did he come incontact with Clive. Mr. Merriman remained in Bombay, awaiting the arrivalof a vessel of his from Muscat; but Desmond was loath to ask him whetherhe had sounded Clive about a cadetship. As a matter of fact Mr. Merrimanhad mentioned the matter at once. 

"Patience, Merriman, " was Clive's reply. "I have my eye on theyoungster. "

And with that the merchant, knowing his friend, was very well content;but he kept his own counsel. 

At length, one day in the first week of February, 1756, Desmond receiveda summons to visit the admiral. His interview was brief. He was directedto place himself under the orders of Captain Latham on the Tyger; thefleet was about to sail. 

It was a bright, cool February morning; cool, that is, for Bombay, whenthe vessels weighed anchor and sailed slowly out of the harbor. AllBombay lined the shores: natives of every hue and every mode of attire;English merchants; ladies fluttering white handkerchiefs. Such anexpedition had never been undertaken against the noted Pirate before, andthe report of Commodore James, confirming the information brought byDesmond, had given the authorities good hope that this pest of theMalabar coast was at last to be destroyed. 

It was an inspiriting sight as the vessels, rounding the point, madeunder full sail to the south. There were six line-of-battle ships, sixCompany's vessels, five bomb ketches, four Maratha grabs--one of themAngria's own grab, the Tremukji, on which Desmond had escaped--and fortygallivats. The Tyger led the van. Admiral Watson's flag was hoisted onthe Kent, Admiral Pocock's on the Cumberland. On board the fleet were twohundred European soldiers, three hundred Sepoys, and three hundredTopasses--mainly half-caste Portuguese in the service of the Company, owing their name to the topi {hat} they wore. To cooperate with thisforce a land army of twelve thousand Marathas, horse and foot, under thecommand of Ramaji Punt, one of the Peshwa's generals, had been for sometime investing the town of Gheria. 

At this time of year the winds were so slight and variable that it wasnearly a week before the fleet arrived off Gheria. When the bastions ofthe fort hove into sight Desmond could not help contrasting his feelingswith those of two months before. 

"Like the look of your cage, Mr. Burke?" asked Captain Latham at hiselbow. 

"I was just thinking of it, sir, " said Desmond. "It makes a very greatdifference when you're outside the bars. "

"And we'll break those bars before we're much older, or I'm a Dutchman. "

But at this moment the signal to heave-to was seen flying at the mastheadof the Kent. Before the vessels had anchored one of the grabs left themain fleet and ran into the harbor. It bore a message from Admiral Watsonto Tulaji Angria, summoning him to surrender. The answer returned wasthat if the admiral desired to be master of the fort he must take it byforce, as Angria was resolved to defend it to the last extremity. 

The ships remained at anchor outside the harbor during the night. Nextmorning a boat put off from the town end of the fort conveying several ofAngria's relatives and some officers of Ramaji Punt's army. It by and bybecame known that Tulaji Angria, leaving his brother in charge of thefort, had given himself up to Ramaji Punt, and was now a prisoner in hiscamp. The visitors had come ostensibly to view the squadron, but reallyto discover what were Admiral Watson's intentions in regard to thedisposal of the fort, supposing it fell into his hands. The admiral sawthrough the device, which was no doubt to hand the fort over to thePeshwa's general, and so balk the British of their legitimate prize. 

Admiral Watson made short work of the visitors. He told them that ifAngria would surrender his fort peaceably he and his family would beprotected; but that the fort he must have. They pleaded for a few days'grace, but the admiral declined to wait a single day. If the fort was notimmediately given up he would sail in and attack it. 

It was evident that hostilities could not be avoided. About one in theafternoon Captain Henry Smith of the Kingfisher sloop was ordered to leadthe way, and Desmond was sent to join him. 

"What is the depth under the walls, Mr. Burke?" the captain asked him. 

"Three and a half fathoms, sir--deep enough to float the biggest of us. "

The sloop weighed anchor, and stood in before the afternoon breeze. Itwas an imposing sight as the fleet formed in two divisions and cameslowly in their wake. Each ship covered a bomb ketch, protecting thesmaller vessels from the enemy's fire. Desmond himself was kept verybusy, going from ship to ship as ordered by signals from the Kent, andassisting each captain in turn to navigate the unfamiliar harbor. 

It was just two o'clock when the engagement began with a shot from thefort at the Kingfisher. The shot was returned, and a quarter of an hourlater, while the fleet was under full sail, the Kent flew the signal fora general action. One by one the vessels anchored at various pointsopposite the fortifications, and soon a hundred and fifty guns wereblazing away at the massive bastions and curtains, answered vigorously byAngria's two hundred and fifty. 

Desmond was all excitement. The deafening roar of the guns, the hugecolumns of smoke that floated heavily over the fort, and sometimesenveloped the vessels, the bray of trumpets, the beating of tom toms, theshouts of men, set his blood tingling: and though he afterwards witnessedother stirring scenes, he never forgot the vivid impression of the fightat Gheria. 

About three o'clock a shell set fire to one of the Pirate's grabs--onethat had formerly been taken by him from the Company. Leaving itsmoorings, it drifted among the main pirate fleet of grabs which still laylashed together where Desmond had last seen them by the blaze of theburning gallivats. They were soon alight. The fire spread rapidly to thedockyard, caught the unfinished grabs on the stocks, and before long thewhole of Angria's shipping was a mass of flame. 

Meanwhile the bombardment had made little impression on thefortifications, and it appeared to the admiral that time was beingwasted. Accordingly he gave orders to elevate the guns and fire over thewalls into the interior of the fort. A shell from one of the bomb ketchesfell plump into one of the outhouses of the palace and set it on fire. Fanned by the west wind, the flames spread to the arsenal and thestorehouse, licking up the sheds and smaller buildings until they reachedthe outskirts of the city. The crackling of flames was now mingled withthe din of artillery, and as dusk drew on, the sky was lit up over alarge space with the red glow of burning. By half-past six the guns onthe bastions had been silenced, and the admiral gave the signal to ceasefire. 

Some time before this a message reached Captain Smith ordering him tosend Desmond at once on board the Kent. When he stepped on deck he foundAdmiral Watson in consultation with Clive. It appeared that during theafternoon a cloud of horsemen had been observed hovering on a hilleastward of the city, and being by no means sure of the loyalty of theMaratha allies, Clive had come to the conclusion that it was time to landhis troops. But it was important that the shore and the neck of land eastof the fort should be reconnoitered before the landing was attempted. Thegroves might, for all he knew, be occupied by the Pirate's troops or bythose of Ramaji Punt, and Clive had had enough experience of nativetreachery to be well on his guard. 

"I am going to send you on a somewhat delicate mission, Mr. Burke, " hesaid. "You know the ground. I want you to go quickly on shore and seefirst of all whether there is safe landing for us, and then whether theground between the town and the fort is occupied. Be quick and secret; Ineed waste no words. Mr. Watson has a boat's crew ready. "

"I think, sir, " said Desmond, "that it will hardly be necessary, perhapsnot advisable, to take a boat's crew from this ship. If I might have acouple of natives, there would be a good deal less risk in gettingashore. "

"Certainly. But there is no time to spare; indeed, if you are not back ina couple of hours I shall land at once. But I should like to know what wehave to expect. You had better get a couple of men from the nearestgrab. "

"The Tremukji is only a few cable lengths away, sir, and there's a man onboard who knows the harbor. I will take him, with your permission. "

"Very well. Good luck go with you. "

Desmond saluted, and stepping into the boat which had rowed him to theKent, he was quickly conveyed to the grab. In a few minutes he left thisin a skiff accompanied only by Fuzl Khan and a lascar. Not till then didhe explain what he required of them. The Gujarati seemed overcome by theselection of himself for this mission. 

"You are kind to me, sahib, " he said. "I do not deserve it; but I willserve you to my life's end. "

There was in the man's tone a fervency which touched Desmond at the time, and which he had good cause afterwards to remember. 

A quarter of an hour after Desmond quitted the deck of the Kent, he wasput ashore at a sandy bay at the farther extremity of the isthmus, hiddenfrom the fort by a small clump of mango trees. 

"Now, Fuzl Khan, " he said, "you will wait here for a few minutes till itis quite dark, then you will row quickly along the shore till you come towithin a short distance of the jetty. I am going across the sand uptoward the fort, and will come round to you. "

He stepped over the soft sand towards the trees and was lost to sight. The bombardment had now ceased, and though he heard a confused noise fromthe direction of the fort, there was no sound from the town, and heconcluded that the people had fled either into the fort or away into thecountry. It appeared at present that the whole stretch of land betweenthe town and the fort was deserted. 

He had not walked far when he was startled by hearing, as he fancied, astealthy footstep following him. Gripping in his right hand the pistol hehad brought as a precaution, and with the left loosening his sword in itsscabbard, he faced round with his back to the wall of a shed in whichAngria's ropes were made, and waited, listening intently. But the sound, slight as it was, had ceased. Possibly it had been made by some animal, though that seemed scarcely likely: the noise and the glare from theburning buildings must surely have scared away all the animals in theneighborhood. Finding that the sound was not repeated, he went on again. Some minutes later, his ears on the stretch, he fancied he caught thesame soft furtive tread: but when he stopped and listened and heardnothing, he believed that he must have been mistaken, and set it down asan echo of his own excitement. 

Stepping warily, he picked his way through the darkness, faintlyilluminated by the distant glow of the conflagration. He skirted thedockyard, and drew nearer to the walls of the courtyard surrounding thefort, remembering how, nearly twelve months before, he had come almostthe same way from the jetty with the decoy message from Captain Barker. Then he had been a source of amusement to crowds of natives as he passedon his way to the palace; now the spot was deserted, and but for thenoises that reached him from distant quarters he might have thoughthimself the sole living creature in that once populous settlement. 

He had now reached the outer wall, which was separated from the fort onlyby the wide compound dotted here and there with palm trees. It was clearthat no force, whether of the Pirate's men or of Ramaji Punt's, held theground between the shore and the fort. All the fighting men had withoutdoubt been withdrawn within the walls. His mission was accomplished. 

It had been his intention to make his way back by a shorter cut along theouter wall, by the west side of the dockyard, until he reached the shorenear the jetty. But standing for a moment under the shade of a palm tree, he hesitated to carry out his plan, for the path he meant to follow mustbe lit up along its whole course by a double glare: from the blazingbuildings inside the fort, and from the burning gallivats in the dockyardand harbor. 

He was on the point of retracing his steps when, looking over the lowwall towards the fort, he saw two dark figures approaching, movingswiftly from tree to tree, as if wishing to escape observation. It wastoo late to move now; if he left the shelter of the palm tree he wouldcome distinctly into view of the two men, and it would be unwise to riskanything that would delay his return to Clive. Accordingly he kept wellin the shadow and waited. The stealthy movements of the men suggestedthat they were fugitives, eager to get away with whole skins before thefort was stormed. 

They came to the last of the palm trees within the wall, and paused therefor a brief space. A few yards of open ground separated them from thegate. Desmond watched curiously, then with some anxiety, for it suddenlystruck him that the men were making for him, and that he had actuallybeen shadowed from his landing place by someone acting, strange as itseemed, in collusion with them. On all accounts it was necessary to keepclose. 

Suddenly he saw the men leave the shelter of their tree and run rapidlyacross the ground to the gate. Having reached it, they turned aside intothe shadow of the wall and stood as if to recover breath. Desmond hadkept his eyes upon them all the time. Previously, in the shade of thetrees, their faces had not been clearly distinguishable; but while nowinvisible from the fort, they were lit up by the glow from the harbor. Itwas with a shock of surprise that he recognized in the fugitives theoverseer of the dockyard, whose cruelties he had so good reason toremember, and Marmaduke Diggle, as he still must call him. 

The sight of the latter set his nerves tingling; his fingers itched totake some toll for the miseries he had endured through Diggle's villainy. But he checked his impulse to rush forward and confront the man. Single-handed he could not cope with both the fugitives; and though, ifhe had been free, he might have cast all prudence from him in his longingto bring the man to book, he recollected his duty to Clive and remainedin silent rage beneath the tree. 

All at once he heard a rustle behind him, a low growl like that of ananimal enraged; and almost before he was aware of what was happening adark figure sprang past him, leaped over the ground with the rapidity ofa panther, and threw himself upon the overseer just as with Diggle he wasbeginning to move towards the town. There was a cry from each man, andthe red light falling upon the face of the assailant, Desmond saw withamazement that it was the Gujarati, whom he had supposed to be rowingalong the shore to meet him. 

He had hardly recognized the man before he saw that he was at deadlygrips with the overseer, both snarling like wild beasts. There was notime for thought, for Diggle, momentarily taken aback by the suddenonslaught, had recovered himself and was making with drawn sword towardthe two combatants, who in their struggle had moved away from him. 

Desmond no longer stayed to weigh possibilities or count risks. It wasclear that Fuzl Khan's first onslaught had failed; had he got home, theoverseer, powerful as he was, must have been killed on the spot. In thedarkness the Gujarati's knife had probably missed its aim. He had now twoenemies to deal with, and but for intervention he must soon be overcomeand slain. 

Drawing his sword, Desmond sprang from the tree and dashed across theopen, reaching the scene of the struggle just in the nick of time tostrike up Diggle's weapon ere it sheathed itself in the Gujarati's side. Diggle turned with a startled oath, and seeing who his assailant was, heleft his companion to take care of himself, and faced Desmond, a smile ofanticipated triumph wreathing his lips. 

No word was spoken. Diggle lunged, and Desmond at that moment knew thathe was at a perilous crisis of his life. The movements of the practisedswordsman could not be mistaken; he himself had little experience; allthat he could rely on was his quick eye and the toughness of his muscles. He gave back, parrying the lunge, tempted to use his pistol upon hisadversary. But now that the cannonading had ceased the shot might beheard by some of the Pirate's men, and before he could escape he might bebeset by a crowd of ruffians against whom he would have no chance at all. He could but defend himself with his sword and hope that Diggle mightoverreach himself in his fury and give him an opportunity to get home ablow. 

Steel struck upon steel; the sparks flew; and the evil smile uponDiggle's face became fixed as he saw that Desmond was no match for him inswordsmanship. But it changed when he found that though his youngopponent's science was at fault, his strength and dexterity, his warinessin avoiding a close attack, served him in good stead. Impatient to finishthe fight, he took a step forward, and lunged so rapidly that Desmondcould hardly have escaped his blade but for an accident. There was achoking sob to his right, and just as Diggle's sword was flashing towardshim a heavy form fell against the blade and upon Desmond. In the courseof their deadly struggle the Gujarati and the overseer had shifted theirground, and at this moment, fortunately for Desmond, Fuzl Khan had drivenhis knife into his old oppressor's heart. 

But the same accident that saved Desmond's life gave Diggle anopportunity of which he was quick to avail himself. Before Desmond couldrecover his footing, Diggle shortened his arm and was about to drive hissword through the lad's heart. The Gujarati saw the movement. Springingin with uplifted knife, he attempted to turn the blade. He succeeded; hestruck it upwards; but the force with which he had thrown himself betweenthe two swordsmen was his undoing. Unable to check his rush, he receivedthe point of Diggle's sword in his throat. With a terrible cry he raisedhis hands to clutch his assailant; but his strength failed him; heswayed, tottered, and fell gasping at Desmond's feet, beside the lifelessoverseer. 

Desmond saw that the turn of fortune had given the opportunity to him. Hesprang forward as Diggle tried to recover his sword; Diggle gave way: andbefore he could lift his dripping weapon to parry the stroke, Desmond'sblade was through his forearm. Panting with rage, he sought with his lefthand to draw his pistol; but Desmond was beforehand with him. He caughthis arm, wrenched the pistol from him, and, breathless with hisexertions, said:

"You are my prisoner. "

"'Tis fate, my young friend, " said Diggle, with all his old blandness;Desmond never ceased to be amazed at the self command of thisextraordinary man. "I have let some blood, I perceive; my sword arm isfor the time disabled; but my great regret at this moment--you willunderstand the feeling--is that this gallant friend of yours lies lowwith the wound intended for another. So Antores received in his flank thelance hurled at Lausus: infelix alieno volnere. "

"I dare say, Mr. Diggle, " interrupted Desmond, "but I have no time toconstrue Latin. "

Covering Diggle with his pistol, Desmond stooped over Fuzl Khan'sprostrate body and discovered in a moment that the poor fellow's hearthad ceased to beat. He rose, and added: "I must trouble you to come withme; and quickly, for you perceive you are at my mercy. "

"Where do you propose to take me, my friend?"

"We will go this way, and please step out. "

Diggle scowled, and stood as though meditating resistance. 

"Come, come, Mr. Diggle, you have no choice. I do not wish to have todrag you; it might cause you pain. "

"Surely you will spare a moment to an old friend! I fear you are entirelymistaken. 'Tis pity that with the natural ebullition of your youthfulspirit you should have set upon a man whom--"

"You can talk as we go, Mr. Diggle, if you talk low enough. Must I repeatit?"

"But where are we going? Really, Mr. Burke, respect for my years shouldprompt a more considerate treatment. "

"You see yonder point?" said Desmond impatiently; "yonder on the shore. You will come with me there. "

Diggle looked around as if hoping that even now something might happen inhis favor. But no one was in sight; Desmond stood over him with swordstill drawn; and recognizing his helplessness the man at length turnedtowards the shore and began to walk slowly along, Desmond a foot or so inthe rear. 

"'Twas a most strange chance, surely, " he said, "that brought you to thisspot at the very moment when I was shaking the dust of Gheria from myfeet. How impossible it is to escape the penalty of one's wrongdoing! OldHorace knew it: Raro antecedentem scelestum--you remember the rest. Mr. Burslem drubbed our Latin into us, Mr. Burke. I am a fellow townsman ofyours, though you did not know it: aye, a boy in your old school, switched by your old master. I have treated you badly. I admit it; butwhat could I do? Your brother slandered you; I see now how he deceivedme; he wished you out of his way. Here I acted under pressure of Angria;he was bent on sending you to Bombay; I could not defy him. I was wrong;what you said when I saw you last made a deep impression on me; Irepented, and, as Tully, I think, put it, 'a change of plan is the bestharbor to a penitent man. ' I was indeed seeking that refuge of therepentant, and altering my whole plan of life; and if you will but tarrya moment--"

"Keep on, Mr. Diggle, " said Desmond, as the man, who had been talkingover his shoulder, half stopped; "my point is sharp. "

"I was leaving the fort, as you saw. Not from any fear; you will acquitme of that, and as you know, the fort is impregnable, and I might haveremained there in perfect safety. No, I was quitting it because I waswearied, disgusted with Angria and his ways. 'Twas under amisapprehension I for a time consorted with him; I am disabused, and itis by the mere malignity of Fate that at this turning point of my careerI encounter one whom, I acknowledge, I have wronged. I am beaten; I donot blink that; and by a better man. But youth is generous; and you, Mr. Burke, are not the man to press your advantage against one who all hislife has been the sport of evil circumstance. I was bound for fartherIndia; I know a little port to the south where I should have taken ship, with strong hope of getting useful and honorable employment when myvoyage was ended. Perchance you have heard of Alivirdi Khan; if you wouldbut pause a moment--"

"Go on, Mr. Diggle, " said Desmond inexorably; "and it will be well tomend your pace. "

"Alivirdi Khan, " resumed Diggle, speaking more rapidly; the waters of theharbor, glowing red, were in sight: "Alivirdi Khan is sick unto death. Heis wealthy beyond all imaginings. His likeliest heir, Sirajuddaula, soonto be Subah {viceroy} of Bengal, is well known to me, and indeed beholdento me for services rendered in the past. Mr. Burke, I make you aproposition--it is worth considering. Why not come with me? Wipe off oldscores, throw in your lot with mine. Together, what could we not do--Iwith my experience, you with your youthful vigor! See, here is an earnestof my sincerity. "

He took from his fob a large diamond which flashed in the red light ofthe conflagration. 

"Accept this; in the treasuries of Alivirdi there are thousands like it, each worth a king's ransom. Come with me, and I promise you that withintwo years you shall be rich beyond your wildest dreams. "

"Put up your diamond, Mr. Peloti. You may repeat your offer when we reachColonel Clive. "

Diggle stopped as if shot. He looked with startled eyes at the boy, whohad known him only as Diggle. 

"You are going to Colonel Clive!" he exclaimed. The smoothness of hismanner was gone; his tone expressed mortal anxiety. "But--but--he is apersonal enemy; he will--I beseech you think again; I--"

He broke off, and with a suddenness that took Desmond by surprise hesprang away, making towards the grove of mangoes that stood between himand the shore. Desmond was instantly in pursuit. If Diggle gained theshelter of the trees he might escape in the darkness. But the race wasshort. Weak from fear and loss of blood, the elder was no match in speedfor the younger. In less than a hundred yards he was overtaken, and stoodpanting, quivering, unnerved. Desmond gripped his uninjured arm, and withquickened footsteps hurried him towards the shore. There was the boat, the lascar resting motionless on his oar. Ten minutes later Diggle wasassisted up the side of the Kent, and handed over to the officer of thewatch. Then Desmond made his report to Clive. 

"All the enemy are withdrawn within the fort, sir. The whole groundbetween the fort and the shore is clear. There is nothing to obstructyour landing. "

"I thank you. You have exceeded your time by ten minutes. Who is that manwho came aboard with you?"

"It was he who delayed me, sir. It is Mr. Diggle, or Peloti, I shouldsay. "

"The deuce he is!"

"He was stealing out of the fort; it came to a scuffle, and he waswounded--so I brought him along. "

"Mr. Speke, " said Clive, turning to the captain, "may I ask you to seethis man safe bestowed? I will deal with him when our business here isconcluded. 

"Mr. Burke, you will come with me. "

By nine o'clock Clive had landed his troops. They bivouacked on theshore, in expectation of storming the fort next day. At daybreak anofficer was sent into the fort with a flag of truce to demand itssurrender. This being refused, the admiral ordered his ships to warpwithin a cable's length of the walls in three fathoms and a quarterwater, and the attack was renewed by sea and land, Clive graduallyadvancing and worrying the enemy with his cannon. At two o'clock amagazine in the fort blew up, and not long after, just as Clive was aboutto give the order to storm, a white flag was seen fluttering at one ofthe bastions. 

A messenger was sent to the governor to arrange the capitulation, butwhen he was met by prevarication and pleas for delay the bombardment wasonce more resumed. A few minutes of this sufficed to bring the defendersto reason, and by five o'clock the English flag flew upon the walls. 

Clive postponed his entry until dawn on the following morning. 

"By Jove, Mr. Burke, " he said to Desmond, who showed him the way to thepalace, "if we had been within these walls I think we could have held outtill doomsday. "

All the English officers were impressed by the strength of thefortifications. Besides Angria's two hundred and fifty cannon, an immensequantity of stores and ammunition fell into the hands of the captors. Inthe vaults of the palace were found silver rupees to the value of onehundred thousand pounds, and treasure worth thirty thousand pounds more. The capture had been effected with the loss of only twenty killed andwounded. 

Desmond took the earliest opportunity of seeking the body of Fuzl Khan. Fortunately the fires and the noises of the night had preserved it frommangling by wild beasts. The poor man lay where he had fallen, near thebody of the overseer. 

"Poor fellow!" thought Desmond, looking at the strong, fierce face andthe gigantic frame now stiff and cold. "Little he knew, when he said he'dserve me to his life's end, that the end was so near. "

He had the body carried into the town, and reverently buried according toMohammedan rites. From the lascar he had learned all that he ever knew ofthe motives of the Gujarati's action. Desmond had hardly left the boatwhen the man sprang quickly after him, saying briefly:

"I go to guard the sahib. "

It was like the instinctive impulse of a faithful dog; and Desmond oftenregretted the loss of the man who had shown himself so capable ofdevotion. 

That evening Clive summoned Desmond to attend him in the palace. When heentered the durbar hall he saw, seated on the dais, a small groupconsisting of Clive, Admiral Watson, and two or three subordinateofficers. Standing in front of them was Diggle, in the charge of twomarines. 

"How many European prisoners have been released, Mr. Ward?" the admiralwas saying. 

"Thirteen, sir; ten English and three Dutch. "

"Is that correct, Mr. Burke? Was that the number when you were here?"

"Yes, sir, that is correct. "

"Then you may go, Mr. Ward, and see that the poor fellows are taken onboard the Tyger and well looked after. "

As the officer saluted and withdrew the admiral turned to Clive. 

"Now for this white pirate, " he said: "a most unpleasant matter, truly. "

Signing to the marines to bring forward their prisoner, he threw himselfback upon the divan, leaving the matter in Clive's hands. Clive wasgazing hard at Diggle, who had lost the look of terror he had worn twonights before, and stood before them in his usual attitude of carelessease. 

"You captured this man, " said Clive, turning to Desmond, "within theprecincts of the fort?"

His hard level tone contrasted strongly with the urbaner manner of theadmiral. 

"Yes, sir, " replied Desmond. 

"He is the same man who inveigled you on board the interloper Good Intentand delivered you to the Pirate?"

"And he was to your knowledge associated with the Pirate, and offered youinducements to spy upon his Majesty's forces in Bombay?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Have you anything to say for yourself, Mr. Peloti?"

"Pardon me, Mr. Clive; Diggle--Marmaduke Diggle. "

"Diggle, if you like, " said Clive with a shrug. "You will hang as well inthat name as another. "

One of the officers smiled at the grim jest, but there was no smile onClive's stern set face. 

"You asked me if I had anything to say for myself, " said Diggle quietly. "Assuredly; but it seems your Honors have condemned me already. Whyshould I waste your time, and my breath? I bethink me 'twas not even inRome the custom to judge a matter before learning the facts--prius remdijudicare--but it is a long time, Mr. Clive, since we conned ourTerence together. "

Desmond could not but admire the superb insouciance and the easy smilewith which Diggle played his card. Seeing that Clive for an instanthesitated, the intrepid prisoner continued:

"But there, Mr. Clive, you never excelled in the Latin. 'Twas a sorepoint with poor Mr. Burslem. "

"Come, come, " cried Clive, visibly nettled, "this is no time for quips. You fail to appreciate your position. You are caught red handed. If youhave no defense to make you will meet the fate of other pirates beforeyou. Have you anything to say?"

"Yes. You accuse me of piracy; I have a complete answer to that charge;but as an Englishman I claim an Englishman's right--a fair trial before ajury of my countrymen. In any case, Mr. Clive, it would be invidious togive me worse treatment than Monaji Angria and his officers. As for therest, it depends on the evidence of this single witness. "

Here Admiral Watson bent forward and said to Clive in an undertone, inaudible to the others:

"I think we had better defer this. If, as you suppose, the fellow hasknowledge of the French plans, it would be only politic to give Mr. Bourchier an opportunity of inquiring into the matter. No doubt he richlydeserves hanging, but dead men tell no tales. "

Clive frowned, and, drumming upon the divan impatiently with his fingers, seemed for the moment to be lost in thought. Then he said:

"Yes, Mr. Watson, I think you are right. "

"Take the prisoner back to your ship, " said the admiral, "and put himunder double guard. 

"Thank you, Mr. Burke; we shall require your evidence in Bombay. One wordbefore you go. I am vastly indebted to you for your services; you havebeen of the greatest use to myself and my captains. Your name willfrequently appear in our ships' logs, and I shall take care to show yourwork in the proper light when I make my report. Meanwhile, when thedivision of prize money is made, you will receive a lieutenant's share. Good night, sir. "

And Desmond's face, as he left the room, bore a flush of happiness andpride. 

Chapter 19: In which the scene changes; the dramatis personae remaining thesame. 

A few days after the capture, the Tyger left Gheria, having on board themen wounded in the attack and the European prisoners who had beenrescued. Desmond also sailed in it, with an official report from AdmiralWatson to Governor Bourchier. 

The arrival of the Tyger at Bombay, with the first news of the success ofthe expedition and the fall of the fortress so long deemed impregnable, was the occasion of a great demonstration of rejoicing. The tradingcommunity, whether European or native, was enthusiastic over the ruin ofthe notorious Pirate; and Desmond, as one who had had a share in theoperations, came in for a good deal of congratulation which he laughinglyprotested ought to have been reserved for better men. 

Mr. Merriman was among the crowd that welcomed the Tyger, and as soon asDesmond had delivered his report to Mr. Bourchier, the genial merchantcarried him off to the house on the Green where he was staying andinsisted on having a full account of his experiences. When he learnedthat Diggle had been captured and would shortly reach Bombay as aprisoner, his jolly face assumed as intense a look of vindictivesatisfaction as it was capable of expressing. 

"By thunder! that's the best of your news for me. The villain will gethis deserts at last. I'm only sorry that I shall not be here to serve onthe jury. "

"Are you leaving Bombay then?"

"Yes, and I wanted you to come with me. My ship the Hormuzzeer came toport two days ago, and I had to dismiss the second mate, who wascontinually at odds with the lascars. I hoped you would accept his berth, and sail with me. I want to get back to Calcutta. We had advices theother day that things are not looking well in Bengal. Alivirdi Khan isdying; and there is sure to be some bother about the succession. AllBengal may be aflame. My wife and daughter are in Calcutta, and I don'tcare about being away from them if danger is threatening. I want to getaway as soon as possible, and thought of taking passage in an Indiaman;but the Hormuzzeer being here I'll sail in that; she'll make direct forthe Hugli; an Indiaman would put in at Madras, and goodness knows howlong I might be delayed. "

"'Tis a pity, " said Desmond. "I should have liked of all things to acceptyour offer, but I'm bound to stay for Diggle's trial, and that can't beheld until the fleet return. "

"How long will that be?"

"I heard the admiral say he expected it would take a month to settleeverything at Gheria. He wants to keep the place in our hands, but RamajiPunt claims it for the Peshwa, and Captain Speke of the Kent told me thatit'll be very lucky if they come to an arrangement within a month. "

"It's uncommonly vexatious. I can't wait a month. It'll take a week ormore to clean the Hormuzzeer's hull, and another to load her; in afortnight at the outside I hope to be on my way. Well, it can't behelped. What will you do when the trial is over?"

"I don't know. "

"Did Mr. Clive say anything about a cadetship?"

"Not a word. He only said that I should get a share of the Gheria prizemoney. "

"That's something to the good. Use it wisely. I came out to Calcuttatwenty years ago with next to nothing, and I've done well. There's noreason why you should not make your fortune, too, if your health willstand the climate. We'll have a talk over things before I sail. "

A week later the Bridgewater arrived from Gheria, with Diggle on board. He was imprisoned in the fort, being allotted far too comfortablequarters to please Mr. Merriman. But Merriman's indignation at what heconsidered the governor's leniency was changed to hot rage three dayslater when it became known that the prisoner had disappeared. Not a traceof him could be discovered. He had been locked in as usual one night, andnext morning his room was empty. Imprisonment was much less stringent inthose days than now; the prisoner was allowed to see visitors and to livemore or less at ease. The only clue to Diggle's escape was afforded bythe discovery that, at the same time that he disappeared, there vanishedalso a black boy, who had been brought among the prisoners from Gheriaand was employed in doing odd jobs about the harbor. 

Desmond had no doubt that this was Diggle's boy Scipio Africanus. Andwhen he mentioned the connection between the two, it was supposed thatthe negro had acted as go-between for his master with the friends in thetown by whose aid the escape had been arranged. Among the large nativepopulation of Bombay there were many who were suspected of being secretagents of the French, and as Diggle was well provided with funds it wasnot at all unlikely that his jailer had been tampered with. 

Merriman's wrath was very bitter. He had been waiting for years, as hetold Desmond, for the punishment of Peloti. It was gall and wormwood tohim that the villain should have cheated the gallows. 

Diggle's escape, however, gave Merriman an opportunity to secureDesmond's services. The culprit being gone, the evidence was no longerrequired. Finding that Desmond was still ready to accept the position ofmate on the Hormuzzeer, Merriman consulted Mr. Bourchier, who admittedthat he saw no reason for detaining the lad. Accordingly, the first weekin March, when the vessel stood out of Bombay harbor, Desmond sailed withher. 

The weather was calm, but the winds not wholly favorable, and theHormuzzeer made a somewhat slow passage. Mr. Merriman was impatient toreach Calcutta, and Desmond was surprised at his increasing uneasiness. He had believed that the French and Dutch were the only people in Bengalwho gave the Company trouble, and as England was at peace with bothFrance and the Netherlands, there was nothing, he thought, to fear fromthem. 

"You are mistaken, " said Mr. Merriman, in the course of a conversationone day. "The natives are a terrible thorn in our side. At best we are inBengal on sufferance; we are a very small community--only a hundred ortwo Europeans in Calcutta: and since the Marathas overran the countrysome years ago we have felt as though sitting on the brink of a volcano. Alivirdi wants to keep us down; he has forbidden us to fight the Frencheven if war does break out between us at home; and though the Mogul hasgranted us charters--they call them firmans here--Alivirdi doesn't care arap for such things, and must have us under his heel. Only his tradingprofits and his fear of the Mogul keep him civil. "

"But you said he was dying. "

"So he is, and that makes matters worse, for his grandson, Sirajuddaula, who'll probably succeed him, is no better than a tiger. He lives atMurshidabad, about one hundred miles up the river. He's a vain, peacocky, empty-headed youth, and as soon as the breath is out of his granddad'sbody he'll want to try his wings and take a peck or two at us. He may doit slyly, or go so far as to attack us openly. "

"But if he did that, sure Calcutta is defended; and, as Mr. Clive said tome in Gheria, British soldiers behind walls might hold out forever. "

"Clive doesn't know Calcutta then! That's the mischief! At the Marathainvasion the Bengalis on our territory took fright, and at their ownexpense began a great ditch round Calcutta--we call it the Maratha ditch;but the Nawab bought the Marathas off, the work was stopped, the walls ofthe fort are now crumbling to ruins, and the cannon lie about unmountedand useless. Worst of all, our governor, Mr. Drake, is a quiet soul, anexcellent worthy man, who wouldn't hurt a fly. We call him the Quaker. Quakers are all very well at home, where they can 'thee' and 'thou' andget rich and pocket affronts without any harm; but they won't do inIndia. Might is right with the natives; they don't understand anythingelse; and as sure as they see any sign of weakness in us they'll takeadvantage of it and send us all to kingdom come. 

"And I'm thinking of the womenfolk: India's no place for them at thebest; and I did all I could to persuade my wife and daughter to remain athome. But they would come out with me when I returned last year; and gladas I am to have them with me I sometimes get very anxious; I can't bearthem out of my sight, and that's a fact. "

Mr. Merriman showed his relief when, on the thirtieth of April, henoticed the yellow tinge in the water, which indicated that the vesselwas approaching the mouth of the Hugli. Next day the vessel arrived atBalasore, where a pilot was taken on board, and entered the river. Mr. Merriman pointed out to Desmond the island of Sagar, whither in the lateautumn the jogis came down in crowds to purify themselves in the saltwater, "and provide a meal for the tiger, " he added. At Kalpi a largebarge, rowed by a number of men dressed in white, with pink sashes, cameto meet the Hormuzzeer. 

"That's my budgero, " said Merriman. "We'll get into it and row up toCalcutta in half the time it would take the ship. Each of us merchantshas his own budgero, and instead of putting our men in buttons with ourarms and all that nonsense, we give them colored sashes--and don't ourwomen squabble about the colors, my boy, just don't they!"

In the budgero they passed the Dutch factory at Fulta, and the Subah'sforts at Budge Budge and Tanna. At Gobindpur's reach, Merriman pointedout the pyramid of stone that marked the limit of the Company'sjurisdiction. Soon the gardens of the British merchants came in sight, then the Company's docks, and at last the town of Calcutta, where theCompany's landing stage was thronged with people awaiting the arrival ofthe budgero in the hope of getting news from home. 

"There's Surendra Nath and his father, " said Mr. Merriman, as they camenear the steps. 

His jolly face beamed when he stepped on to the ghat {landing stage}. 

"Hullo, Babu!" he said, "glad to see you again. "

He shook hands with both the men; the elder was much like his son, aslightly-built Bengali, with white hair and very bright eyes. Both wereclad in dhotis of pure white; their legs were bare from the knee, theirfeet shod with sandals. When the greeting had passed between them andtheir master, the old man moved towards Desmond, put his hands together, and made a deep salaam. 

"I have heard what the sahib did for my son. I thank the sahib, " he said. 

"Yes, 'twas excellent good fortune for Surendra Nath, " said Mr. Merriman. "I knew you would be overjoyed to see your son again. But how is the bibi{lady}, and the chota {young} bibi?"

"They were well, sahib, when last I heard. They are on a visit to WattsSahib, at Cossimbazar. "

Merriman's face fell, but he had no time to say more, for he was accostedby a friend. 

"Glad to see you back, Mr. Merriman. I've wanted your voice on theCouncil for some time past. "

"Is anything wrong, Mr. Holwell?" asked Merriman anxiously. 

"Everything is wrong. Alivirdi died a fortnight ago; Sirajuddaula hasstepped into his shoes; and Drake has made a mess of everything, withManningham's and Frankland's assistance. I want you to come and dine withme this evening; we must have a serious talk; I've asked two or three menof our sort in anticipation of your consent. "

"Very well. Let me present my friend, Mr. Burke. He escaped from Gheria;you've heard that Colonel Clive captured the place?"

"Yes; we had despatches from Admiral Watson some days ago. I had heard ofMr. Burke's adventures--

"Your servant, sir; I am delighted to meet you--

"Well, Merriman, three o'clock; I will not detain you now; you'll want toget home. "

Mr. Merriman's bearers were at hand with his palanquin; he got into it;the men set off at a swinging pace, warning the bystanders with their cryof "Tok! Tok!" and Desmond walked by the side of the chair, amused towatch the self-important airs of the peon who went in front. They passedthe fort and the Company's house, and arrived at length at a two-storyflat-roofed house with a veranda, the windows filled, not with oystershells as at Bombay, but with thin screens of reeds. 

"Here we are, " said Merriman with a sigh of relief. 

"Now I'll hand you over to the baniya {factotum}; he'll show you to yourroom. I'm vexed that my wife is not here; of course she didn't know whento expect me; and Mrs. Watts is an old friend of hers. 'Tis a relief inone way; for Mr. Watts is a shrewd fellow--he's head of our factory atCossimbazar, and senior member of Council here--and he would have sentthe ladies away if he scented danger. Sorry I shall have to leave you; Imust dine with Mr. Holwell; he's our zamindar--judge of the Cutchericourt and collector of taxes: a fine fellow, the most cool-headed man onthe Council. But the khansaman will give you something to eat: and I'llbe back as soon as I can. You can take it easy on the veranda, and you'llfind a hookah if you care to try it. "

"No, thanks, " said Desmond with a smile; "I've no fancy that way. "

Shortly afterwards Mr. Merriman left the house in his palanquin, wearingthe short white calico jacket that was then de rigueur at dinner parties. It was late before he returned. There was an anxious and worried look onhis face, but he said cheerily:

"Well, how have you been getting on?"

"I've been reading, sir: I found a volume of Mr. Fielding's Amelia, and'twas a change to read after eighteen months without setting eyes on abook. I hope you had a good dinner. "

"'Pon my soul, I don't know. None of us knows, I warrant. We had too muchto talk about to think about our appetites. Two or three members ofCouncil were there, and Captain Minchin, the military commandant. Thingsare looking black, Desmond. Alivirdi is dead, and, as I expected, hisscoundrel of a grandson, Sirajuddaula, is the new Subah. He hasimprisoned one of his rivals, his aunt, and is marching against another, his cousin Shaukat Jung; and 'tis the common talk that our turn will comenext. "

"But why should he be at odds with us?"

"Why, to begin with, he's a native and hates us; thinks we're too rich, and though he's rich enough he would like to get what we have and turn usout. Then our president Mr. Drake has acted in the weakest possible way;the very way to encourage the Subah. Instead of siding with Sirajuddaulafrom the first, as he might well have done, because the rivals never hadthe ghost of a chance, he shilly shallied. Then he offended him by givingshelter to a fellow named Krishna Das, who came in a month ago with fiftysacks of treasure from Murshidabad; it really belonged to the Subah'saunt, but the Subah had an eye on it and he's furious at losing it. Thatwasn't enough. Mr. Watts at Cossimbazar had warned the Council here ofthe new Subah's unfriendliness; they talk at Murshidabad of our weakdefenses and how easy it would be to overcome us. He advised Mr. Drake tokeep on good terms with the Subah; but what must he do but turn out ofthe place a man named Narayan Das, the brother of the new Nawab's chiefspy. "

"Sure you don't allow the enemy's spies to live in Calcutta?"

"Sure we can't help ourselves. The place is full of them--spies of theSubah, and of the French too. We can't do anything. We may suspect, butif we raised a hand we should stir up a hornets' nest, as indeed Mr. Drake appears to be doing. 

"But that isn't all. The Company's ship Delaware came in a fortnight agowith the news that a French fleet is fitting out under Count Lally, atBrest; 'tis supposed war will break out again and the fleet is intendedto attack us here. So that we may have the Subah making common cause withthe French to crush us. He'll turn against the French then, but thatwon't save us. On top of that comes a fakir from Murshidabad demanding inthe Subah's name that we should stop work on our fortifications; theinsolence of the wretch passes all bounds. Mr. Drake properly refused thedemand; he said we were repairing our defenses in case we needed 'emagainst the French; but he undertook not to start any new works, whichwas a mistake. 

"Altogether, Desmond, things are in a pretty mess. I'm afraid Mr. Drakeis not the man to cope with a grave situation; but he has the majority ofthe Council with him, and we can't alter it. Now I think we had betterturn in; perhaps I shall feel better after a good sleep; I am certainlyfar from easy in mind. "

Desmond slept like a top on his light mattress, enveloped in his mosquitocurtains. In the morning he accompanied Mr. Merriman to his daftarkhanah{office}, where he found a large staff under the superintendence of themuhri {chief clerk}, Surendra Nath's father. He returned to the house fortiffin, spent the afternoon indoors over his novel, and after the threeo'clock dinner accompanied his host in a walk through the Englishquarter. 

As they returned, Mr. Merriman suggested that they should walk down toMr. Watts' house near the river to see if any news had arrived fromCossimbazar. On the way they passed a large pakka {substantial} house, surrounded by a compound and a low wall. 

"We were talking yesterday about spies, " said Merriman. "In that houselives a man who in my belief is a spy, and a treacherousscoundrel--actually living next door to Mr. Lyre, the keeper of ourmilitary stores. He's a Sikh named Omichand, and the richest merchant inthe city. He owns half of it; he's my landlord, confound him! For fortyyears he was the contractor for supplying the Company with cloth, but wefound out that he was cheating us right and left, and dismissed him. Yethe's very friendly to us, which is a bad sign. 'Twas he who broughtKrishna Das with his treasure into the place, and my belief is, he did itmerely to embroil us with the Subah. Mr. Drake is disposed to pooh-poohthe idea, but I incline to Mr. Holwell's opinion, that Omichand's aschemer and a villain, ready to betray us to French, Dutch, or Gentoos asit suits him. "

"Why don't you turn him out, then?" asked Desmond. 

"My dear boy, he's far too powerful. And we'd rather keep him in sight. While he's here we can tell something of what is going on; his house ispretty well watched; but if he were away he might try all manner oftricks and we should never learn anything about them. Our policy is to bevery sweet to him--to make friends of the mammon of unrighteousness, asMr. Bellamy, our padre, puts it. You're bound to see him one of thesedays, the hoary-headed old villain. "

Though Mr. Merriman fully relied on Mr. Watts' discretion to send hisvisitors back to Calcutta if there were the least sign of danger, he wasso anxious to have his wife and daughter with him that next day he sent aspecial messenger up the river asking them to return as soon as theycould. He could not fetch them, public affairs not allowing him to leaveCalcutta at once, but he promised to meet them somewhere on the way. 

He spent the day in making himself acquainted with the business that hadbeen done during his absence. A valuable consignment of silks, muslins, and taffeties was expected from Cossimbazar, he learned, and as soon asit arrived the Hormuzzeer would be able to sail for Penang. 

"A private venture, " he said to Desmond, "nothing to do with theCompany. "

Desmond expressed his surprise that the Company's officials were atliberty to engage in private trading. 

"Why, bless you, how could we live otherwise? Do you imagine I got richon the Company? What do you suppose my salary is as member of Council?'Tis just forty pounds. The factors get fifteen and the writers five:Colonel Clive began at five pounds a year: so you may guess that we haveto do something to keep flesh on our bones. 

"And that reminds me of a proposal I wished to make to you. You have alittle money from the sale of the Pirate's grab, and you'll have more byand by when the Gheria prize money is distributed. Why not put some of itinto the Hormuzzeer? Let me buy some goods for you, and send 'em toPenang: they'll fetch top prices there, especially in the present stateof trade. 'Twill be an excellent investment. "

"Thank you, sir, I'll be glad to follow your advice. "

"That's right. I'll see about it at once, and the sooner these thingscome from Cossimbazar the better. The delay is vexing, and I fear I'llhave to change my agent there. "

Mr. Merriman being so much occupied with business and public affairs, Desmond had much time to himself. He soon made friends among the juniormerchants and factors, and in their company went about Calcutta. 

Fort William was built near the river, the factory house in the center ofthe inclosure. Around it on three sides were the houses of individualmerchants and officers. A wide avenue known as the Lal Bazar led from theravelin of the fort past the courthouse to the native part of the town. On one side of the avenue was the Park or Lal Bagh, with a great tank bywhich a band played in the evening. Around the town was the incompleteMaratha ditch. 

Desmond became the object of much kindly attention from the Company'sservants and their families. Everyone was eager to hear from his own lipsthe story of his adventures, and invitations to dinners and routs andcard parties poured upon him. He accepted one or two and politely excusedhimself from the rest, not from any want of sociability, but from motivesof prudence. His kind host had already given him a friendly warning; someof the writers and younger servants of the Company were wild spirits, andspent more time than was good for them in cards and revels. 

On the evening of the third day after his arrival he went down to theriver to watch the arrival of some country vessels. There was the usualcrowd at the ghat, and as Desmond gradually worked his way through it hesuddenly saw, just in front of him, two men whose backs were veryfamiliar. They were in the dress of seamen: one was tall and thin, theother broad and brawny, and Desmond did not need his glimpse of the ironhook to be sure that the men were none other than his old friend Bulgerand Mr. Toley, the melancholy mate. They were standing side by sidewatching in silence the arrival of the boats. 

Desmond edged his way to them until he was within arm's length ofBulger's hook. He stood for a moment looking at them, imagining theirsurprise when they saw him, wondering if their pleasure would be as keenas his own. Both appeared rather battered; Mr. Toley's expression wasnever merry, and he was neither more nor less melancholy than usual; butBulger's habitual cheerfulness seemed to have left him; his air was moodyand downcast. 

How came they here? The Good Intent being an interloper, it was not atall likely that she had ventured to put in at Calcutta. 

By and by Bulger seemed to become aware that someone was gazing at him, for he turned round slowly. Desmond could not but smile at hisextraordinary change of expression. His first look of blank amazementquickly gave place to one of almost boyish delight, and taking an eagerstep forward he exclaimed:

"By thunder, 'tis Mr. Burke or his ghost! Bless my heart! Ho! shakehands, matey; this is a sight for bad eyes!"

"Glad to see you, Bulger, " said Desmond quietly; "and you, too, Mr. Toley. "

Mr. Toley had shown no surprise; but then, nothing ever surprised Mr. Toley. 

"Sure I'm rejoiced, " he said. "We had given you up for lost. "

His hearty hand grip was more convincing than his words, though, indeed, Desmond had good reason to know the real kindliness that always laybehind his outward solemnity of manner. 

"You're better in togs than when I seed you last, sir, " said Bulger, gripping his hand again. "Which you look quite the gentleman; got a berthas supercargo, sir?"

"Not yet, Bulger, " replied Desmond, laughing. "How's Captain Barker?"

Bulger spat out a quid of tobacco and hitched up his breeches. 

"I don't know how Captain Barker is, and what's more, I don't care, " hesaid. "Me and Barker en't friends: leastways, not on speakin' terms;which I will say, hang Captain Barker, topsy versy, any way you like; andI don't care who hears me. "

"What has happened?"

"Happened! Why, sir, Mr. Toley'll tell you what happened. He knows thethus, therefore, and whereupon of it. "

The good fellow was itching to tell, but as in duty bound deferred to hissuperior officer. 

"Go on, Bulger, " said the American, "you've got a looser tongue than me. "

"Which I don't deny, sir. Two days ago--'twas at Chandernagore, where theGood Intent's been laid up for a matter a' weeks--the captain he went an'forgot hisself, sir; clean forgot hisself, an' lifted his hand to Mr. Toley; ay, hit him, sir. Wunst it was, sir, on'y wunst; then 'twas Mr. Toley his turn. Ah, an' I warrant Captain Barker's in his bunk today. Never did I see sich a sight all the years I've been afloat, an' that'ssaying something. There was captain spread out on deck, sir, with hiseyes bunged up an' a tooth or two that had lost their bearin's, and allhis bones wonderin' if they was ever goin' to get joined again. 

"That's the why and wherefore of it, sir. Well, in course, 'twas nokiss-an'-be-friends arter that; so, bein' in a mounseer's place, Mr. Toley took French leave, which I did the same, and here we are a-lookin'for a job. 

"But Lor' bless me! what's happened to you, Mr. Burke? When you didn'tcome aboard at that there Gheria, Captain Barker he says, 'Log that thereknave Burke a deserter, ' says he. But I says to Mr. Toley, 'I may bewrong, sir, ' says I, 'but I lay my whiskers that Diggle has been an' soldhim to the Pirate, an' that's the last we shall ever see of as nice ayoung fellow as ever hauled on a hawser. ' How did you get out of thePirate's den, sir?"

"That's a long story, Bulger. I'll tell you all in good time. You'relooking for a job, are you? Well, I happen to know of a skipper here--agood man: maybe he'll have a berth for a seasoned salt like you. I'llpresent you to him, and I know he'll do what he can for you. "

Before he left the men, Desmond took Mr. Toley aside. 

"Mr. Toley, " he said, "my friend Mr. Merriman wants a mate for one of hisvessels, as I happen to know. You would be willing to sign on?"

"I would, sir. I'm a man of few words. "

"Very well; come up to Mr. Merriman's house by the Rope Walk and we'llsee what he says. "

That same day Mr. Merriman invited the American to dinner, and engagedhim, to Desmond's surprise, as first mate for the Hormuzzeer, with Bulgeras bo'sun. 

"Don't look so blue, " he said to Desmond when Mr. Toley had gone. "Hewill, of course, take your place. The fact is, I've taken a fancy to you, and I think you can do better than by serving as mate on a coastingvessel. Look in at the daftarkhanah sometimes, and get Surendra Nath toexplain something of our business methods. "

He said no more at that time, and Desmond felt no little curiosity abouthis host's intentions. 

One evening Desmond was sitting alone on the veranda, reading, awaitingMr. Merriman's return from a meeting of the Council to which he had beenhastily summoned. Hearing a footstep, he looked up, and was surprised tosee, instead of Mr. Merriman, as he expected, Bulger hastening up with anair of excitement. 

"Mr. Burke, sir, what d'you think I've seed? I could hardly believe myown eyes. I was walkin' down towards the fort when I seed two men goin'into a big house. They was Englishmen, leastways white men, and I may bewrong, but I bet my boots one on 'em was that there soft-speakin' villainDiggle. "

"Diggle!" exclaimed Desmond, springing up. "You must be mistaken, Bulger. "

"I may be wrong, sir, but I never remembers any time when I was. "

"What house did he go into?"

"That I can't tell you, sir, not bein' sure o' my bearin's. "

"But you could point it out?"

"'Course I could. Rather. Just so. "

"Then I'll came along with you, and you can show me. If it is Diggle, wemust have him arrested. "

"True, an' I'll knot the rope for his neck. "

"How long ago was this?"

"Not a quarter of an hour, sir. I comed up at once. "

The two set off together. They quickly reached the house; Desmondrecognized it as Omichand's. The evening was closing in, but no lightswere visible through the chiks {hanging screens made of thin strips ofbamboo} that covered the windows. While Desmond was considering, twofigures stepped down from the veranda and walked rapidly across thecompound towards the gate in the wall. 

At the first glance Desmond saw that Bulger had not been mistaken. Thetaller of the two figures was disguised, but it was impossible to mistakethe gloved right hand. It was Diggle to a certainty. 

"Are you game to capture them?" said Desmond. 

Bulger grunted and gave a twist to his hook. 

"I'll take Diggle, " added Desmond: "you go for the other man. "

They waited in the shadow of the wall. The gate opened, the two men cameout, and in an instant Desmond and his companion dashed forward. Taken bysurprise, the men had no time to defend themselves. With his left handDesmond caught at Diggle's sword arm, and, pointing his rapier at hisheart, said:

"You are my prisoner, Mr. Diggle. "

At the same moment Bulger had caught the second man by the throat, andraising his formidable hook, cried:

"Heave to, matey, or I'll spoil your mug for you. "

The man uttered an exclamation in French, which ended in a wheeze asBulger's strong fingers clutched his windpipe. 

But the next moment an unlooked-for diversion occurred. Attracted by thesound of the rapid scuffle, a number of natives armed with lathis{bludgeons} rushed across the compound into the street, and came swiftlyto the rescue. Desmond and his companion had perforce to release theirprisoners and turn to defend themselves. With their backs against thewall they met the assailants, Desmond with his rapier, Bulger with hishook, each dexterously warding off the furious blows of the excitednatives. Diggle and the Frenchman took instant advantage of theopportunity to slip away, and the Englishmen had already got home morethan one shrewd blow, provoking yells of pain from the attackers, whenthe onslaught suddenly ceased, and the natives stood rigid, as if under aspell. Looking round, Desmond saw at the gate a bent old figure withdusky, wrinkled face and prominent eyes. He wore a turban in which ajewel sparkled, and his white garment was girt with a yellow sash. 

"What is this, sahib?" he said severely in careful English, addressingDesmond. 

"'Tis pretty plain what it is, " said Desmond somewhat hotly; "we havebeen set upon by these six ruffians. "

The newcomer motioned with his hand, and the men slunk away. 

"I regret, sahib. The men are badmashes; Calcutta is unhappily in adisturbed state. "

"Badmashes or not, they came from your house--if this is your house. "

"It is my house, sahib. My name is Omichand. I must inquire how thebadmashes came to be in my compound. I fear my darwan {doorkeeper} is atfault. "

"And what about the two men?"

"The two men, sahib?"

"Yes, the two Europeans who came first from the house, and were protectedby these ruffians?"

"You must be mistaken, sahib. English sahibs do not visit at the housesof Indian gentlemen. If the sahib had been longer in Calcutta he wouldknow that. "

A smile flickered on the Indian's face, but it was gone instantly. Desmond was nonplussed. It was useless to contradict the merchant; he wasclearly not disposed to give any information; Diggle was gone. All hecould do was to return and report the matter to Mr. Merriman. 

"Come along, Bulger, " he said, with an unceremonious gesture to Omichand. "We can do no good here. "

"The old Ananias!" growled Bulger, as they walked away. "What in thunderis Diggle's game here? I'd give a year's 'baccy to have a chanst o' usin'my hook on him. "

Mr. Merriman looked grave when he heard what had happened. 

"To think of that villain once more escaping our clutches! The otherfellow was a Frenchman, you say? There's mischief brewing. Sure if I waspresident I'd be tempted to arrest that wily old Omichand. Not that itwould be of much use, probably. Peloti is a bold fellow to venture here. You are sure 'twas he?"

"Absolutely. His disguise was good: he has altered his face in some way, and his dress is altogether changed; but I couldn't mistake the coveredhand. "

"'Tis an odd thing, that mitten. Probably it conceals some defect; theman's as vain as a peacock. The mitten is a thing by which he may betraced, and I'll send my peons to start inquiries tomorrow. But I'vesomething to say to you: something to propose. The Hormuzzeer is ready tosail, save for that consignment at Cossimbazar I mentioned. My agentthere is an Armenian named Coja Solomon; I've employed him for someyears, and found him trustworthy; but I can't get delivery of thesegoods. I've sent two or three messengers to him, asking him to hurry, buthe replies that there is some difficulty about the dastaks--papersauthorizing the despatch of goods free from customs duty. 

"Now, will you go up the river and see what is causing the delay? I'llgive you an introduction to Mr. Watts; he will do all he can for you, though no doubt his hands are full. You can take Surendra Nath with youto interpret; and you had better have some armed peons as an escort, andperhaps a number of men we can trust to work the boat if you can releasethe goods. Are you willing?"

"I will gladly do anything I can, sir. Indeed, I wished for anopportunity to see something of the country. "

"You may see too much! I'd say beware of tigers, but Surendra Nath is sodesperately timid that you can depend on him not to lead you intodanger. "

"The Hormuzzeer will not sail until I return?"

"Not till the goods arrive. Why do you ask?"

"I should like to take Bulger with me. He's a good companion, with ashrewd head. "

"And a useful hook. I have no objection. You will be ready to starttomorrow, then. You must be up early: traveling will be impossible in theheat of the day. "

"At dawn, sir. "

Chapter 20: In which there are recognitions and explanations; and our heromeets one Coja Solomon, of Cossimbazar. 

At sunrise next morning Desmond found his party awaiting him at theCauseway beyond the Maratha ditch. The natives salaamed when he came upin company with Mr. Merriman, and Bulger pulled his forelock. 

"Mornin', sir; mornin'; I may be wrong, but 'tis my belief we're goin' tohave a bilin' hot day, and I've come accordin'. "

He was clad in nothing but shirt and breeches, with his coat strapped tohis back, and a hat apparently improvised out of cabbage leaves. Thenatives were all in white, with their employer's pink ribbons. Some werearmed with matchlocks and pikes; others carried light cooking utensils;others, groceries for the Englishmen's use; for their own food theydepended on the villages through which they would pass. 

"Well, I wish you a good journey, " said Mr. Merriman, who appeared to bein better spirits than for many a day. "I'm glad to tell you, Burke, thatI got a letter from Mr. Watts this morning, saying that my wife anddaughter are on their way down the river with Mrs. Watts and herchildren. They've got Mr. Warren Hastings to escort them: trust 'em tofind a handsome man! The road follows the river, and if you look out Idare say you will see them. You'll recognize our livery. Introduceyourself if you meet 'em. You have your letter from Mr. Watts? That's allright. Goodby, and good luck to you. "

The party set off. The old road by which they were to travel ran at ashort distance from the left bank of the Hugli, passing through anundulating country, interspersed with patches of low wood and scatteredtrees. The scenery was full of charm for Desmond: the rich vegetation;antelopes darting among the trees; flamingoes and pelicans standingmotionless at the edge of the slow-gliding river; white-clad figurescoming down the broad steps of the riverside ghats to bathe; occasionallythe dusky corpse of some devotee consigned by his relations to the bosomof the holy river. 

The first halt was called at Barrackpur, where, amid a luxuriant grove ofpalms and bamboos, stood some beautiful pagodas, built of the unburntbrick of the country, and faced with a fine stucco that gleamed in thesunlight like polished marble. Here, under the shade of the palms, Desmond lay through the hot afternoon, watching the boats of all shapesand sizes that floated lazily down the broad-bosomed stream. In theevening the march was resumed; the party crossed the river by a ford atPulta Ghat, and following the road on the other bank came at sundown tothe outskirts of the French settlement at Chandernagore. There theycamped for the night. Desmond was for some time tormented by the dolefulyells of packs of jackals roaming abroad in search of food. Their criesso much resembled those of human beings in dire agony that he shivered onhis mattress; but falling asleep at length, he slept soundly and wokewith the dawn. 

He started again soon after sunrise. Just beyond Chandernagore Bulgerpointed out the stripped spars of the Good Intent, lying far up a narrowcreek. 

"Wouldn't I just like to cut her out?" said Bulger. "But 'spose we can'tstop for that, sir?"

"Certainly not. And you'd have the French about our ears. "

Passing the Dutch settlement at Chinsura, he came into a country of ricefields, now bare, broken by numerous nullahs worn by the torrents in therainy season, but now nearly dry. Here and there the party had to ford ajhil--an extensive shallow lake formed by the rains. Desmond tried a shotor two at the flights of teal that floated on these ponds; but they wereso wild that he could never approach within range. Towards evening, afterpassing the little village of Amboa, they came to a grove of peepulsfilled with green parrots and monkeys screaming and jabbering as thoughengaged in a competition. A few miles farther on they arrived at thelarger village of Khulna, where they tied up for the night. 

Next morning Desmond was wakened by Surendra Nath. 

"Sahib, " he said, "the bibi and the chota bibi are here. "

"Mrs. Merriman?"

"Yes. They arrived last night by boat, and are pursuing their journeytoday. "

"I should like to see them before they go. But I'm afraid I am hardlypresentable. "

"Believe me, sahib, you will not offend the bibi's punctilio. "

"Well, send one of the peons to say that I shall have the pleasure ofwaiting on Mrs. Merriman in half an hour, if she will permit me. "

Having shaved and bathed, and donned a change of clothes, Desmond set offaccompanied by Surendra Nath to visit the ladies. He found them on a longshallow boat, in a cabin constructed of laths and mats filling one end ofthe light craft. The Babu made the introduction, then effaced himself. 

A lady, whose voice seemed to waken an echo in Desmond's memory, said:

"How do you do, Mr. Burke? I have heard of you in my husband's letters. Is the dear man well?"

"He is in good health, ma'am, but somewhat anxious to have you backagain. "

"Dear man! What is he anxious about? Mr. Watts seemed anxious also to getrid of us. He was vexed that Mrs. Watts is too much indisposed toaccompany us. And Mr. Warren Hastings, who was to escort us, was quiteangry because he had to go to one of the out-factories instead. I do notunderstand why these gentlemen are so much disturbed. "

Desmond saw that Mrs. Merriman had been deliberately kept in ignorance ofthe grounds of the Englishmen's anxiety, and was seeking on the spur ofthe moment for a means to divert her from the subject, when he was sparedthe necessity. Miss Merriman had been looking at him curiously, and shenow turned to her mother and said something in a tone inaudible toDesmond. 

"La! you don't say so, my dear, " exclaimed the lady. 

"Why. Mr. Burke, my daughter tells me that we have met you before. "

His vague recollection of Mrs. Merriman's voice being thus so suddenlyconfirmed, he recalled, as from a far distant past, a scene upon HounslowHeath; a coach that stood perilously near the ditch, a girl at thehorses' heads, a lady stamping her foot at two servants wrestling indrunken stupidity on the ground. 

"You never gave us an opportunity of thanking you, " continued Mrs. Merriman. "'Twas not kind of you, Mr. Burke, to slip away thus without aword after doing two poor lone women such a service. "

"Indeed, ma'am, 'twas with no discourteous intention, but seeing you weresafe with your friends I--I--in short, ma'am--"

Desmond stopped in confusion, at a loss for a satisfactory explanation. The ladies were smiling. 

"You thought to flee our acknowledgments, " said Mrs. Merriman. "La, la, Iknow; I have a young brother of my own. But you shall not escape themnow, and what is more, I shall see that Merriman, poor man, adds his, forI am sure he has forgiven you your exploit. "

The younger lady laughed outright, while Desmond looked from one to theother. What did they mean?

"Indeed, ma'am, " he said, "I had no idea--"

"That there was need for forgiveness?" said the lady, taking him up. "Butindeed there was-eh, Phyllis?

"Mr. Burke, " she added, with a sudden solemnity, "a few minutes after youleft us at Soho Square Merriman rode up, and I assure you I nearlyswooned, poor man! and hardly had strength to send for the surgeon. Itneeded three stitches--and he such a handsome man, too. "

A horrid suspicion flashed through Desmond's mind. He remembered the scaron Mr. Merriman's brow, and that it was a scarcely healed wound when hemet him with Clive on that unfortunate occasion in Billiter Street. 

"Surely, ma'am, you don't mean--the highwayman?"

"Indeed I do. That is just it. Your highwayman was--Mr. Merriman. Fancythe hurt to his feelings, to say nothing of his good looks. Fie, fie, Mr. Burke!"

For a moment Desmond did not know whether embarrassment or amazement wasuppermost with him. It was bad enough to have tripped Mr. Merriman up inthe muddy street; but to have also dealt him a blow of which he wouldretain the mark to his dying day--"This is terrible!" he thought. Stillthere was an element of absurdity in the adventure that appealed to hissense of the ridiculous. But he felt the propriety of being apologetic, and was about to express his regret for his mistake when Mrs. Merrimaninterrupted him with a smile:

"But there, Mr. Burke, he bears you no grudge, I am sure. He is theessence of good temper. It was a mistake; he saw that when I explained;and when he had vented his spleen on the coachman next day he owned thatit was a plucky deed in you to take charge of us, and indeed he said thatyou was a mighty good whip; although, " she added laughing, "you was atrifle heavy in hand. "

Desmond felt bound to make a full confession. He related the incident ofhis encounter with Merriman in London--how he had toppled him over in themud--wondering how the ladies would take it. He was relieved when theyreceived his story with a peal of laughter. 

"Oh, mamma; and it was his new frock!" said Phyllis. 

"La, so it was, just fresh from Mr. Small's in Wigmore Street--fortyguineas and no less!"

"Well, ma'am, I'm already forgiven for that; I trust that with your goodfavor my earlier indiscretion will be forgiven. "

"Indeed it shall be, Mr. Burke, I promise you. Now tell me: what bringsyou here?"

Desmond explained his errand in a few words. The ladies wished him aprosperous journey, and said they would hope to see him in a few days onhis return. He left them, feeling that he had gained friends, and with anew motive, of which he was only vaguely conscious, to a speedyaccomplishment of his business. 

On the evening of the sixth day after leaving Calcutta there came intosight a church of considerable size, which Surendra Nath explained wasthe temple of the Armenian colony of Cossimbazar. Passing this, andleaving a maze of native dwellings and the French factory on the left, the travelers reached the Dutch factory, and beyond this the Englishsettlement and fort. 

Leaving the Babu to arrange quarters for the peons in the native part ofthe town, Desmond hastened on past the stables and the hospital to thefactory. It was a rough oblong in shape, defended at each corner by abastion mounted with ten guns, the bastions being connected by massivecurtains. In the south curtain, windowed for the greater part of itslength, was the gateway. Desmond was admitted by a native servant, and ina few minutes found himself in the presence of the chief, Mr. WilliamWatts. 

Mr. Watts was a tall man of near forty years--of striking presence, withfirm chin, pleasant mouth, and eyes of peculiar depth and brilliance. Hewas clad in a long purple-laced coat, with ruffles at the wrists and ahigh stock, and wore the short curled wig of the period. He welcomedDesmond with great cordiality, and, glancing over Mr. Merriman's letter, said:

"My friend Mr. Merriman needlessly disturbs himself, I think. I apprehendno immediate difficulty with the new Subah, although 'tis true there havebeen little vexations. As to the goods, they are in Coja Solomon'sgodown; they were delivered some time ago and paid for; what the reasonof the delay is I cannot tell. One thing I may mention--it appears thatMr. Merriman is ignorant of it: Coja Solomon has lately become the agentof Omichand, whose peons have been seen to visit him, then passing on toMurshidabad. I happen to know also that he has communicated with CojaWajid: do you know anything of him?"

"No, sir; I have never heard his name. "

"He's a rich Armenian trader in Hugli, and acts as agent between theNawab and the French and Dutch. We suspect him of encouragingSirajuddaula against us; but of course we can't prove anything. My adviceto you is, be wary and be quick; don't trust any of these fellows furtherthan you can see them. But you can't do anything tonight. You will allowme to give you a bed: in the morning you can make a call on Coja Solomon. What has become of your peons?"

"A Babu I brought with me is looking after them. But I have an Englishseaman also: can you tell me what to do with him?"

"Sure he can lodge with Sergeant Bowler close by--near the southeastbastion. The sergeant will be glad of the company of a fellow countryman;your man will be a change after the Dutchmen and topasses he has to dowith. "

Early next morning Desmond, accompanied by Surendra Nath, went to findCoja Solomon. He lived in a house not far from the Armenian church, between it and the river. The Armenian was at home. He received Desmondwith great politeness, assuring him with much volubility that he had butone interest in life, and that was the business of his honorableemployer, Mr. Merriman. He invited Desmond to accompany him to the godownnear the river where the goods were stored--muslins of Dacca, both plainand flowered, Bengal raw silk, and taffeties manufactured in Cossimbazar. 

"You have not been long in the country, sir, " said Coja Solomon, with ashrewd look at Desmond, "and therefore you will find it hard to believe, perhaps, that these goods, so insignificant in bulk, are worth over twolakhs of rupees. A precious load indeed, sir. This delay is naturally acause of vexation to my distinguished superior, but it is not due to anyidleness or inattention on my part. It is caused by the surprisingdifficulty of getting the dastaks countersigned by the Faujdar {officerin command of troops, and also a magistrate}--Without his signature, asyou know, the goods can not be removed. I dare not venture. "

"But why didn't the Faujdar sign the papers?"

"That I cannot tell. I send messengers to him: they come back: theFaujdar is much occupied with the Nawab's business, but he will attend tothis little matter as soon as he has leisure. He calls it a littlematter; and so it is, perhaps, if we remember that the Nawab's wealth isreckoned by millions; but it is not a little matter to Mr. Merriman, andI deeply deplore the unfortunate delay. "

"Well, be good enough to send another message at once. Represent to theFaujdar that Mr. Merriman's ship is prevented from sailing until thegoods reach Calcutta, and that this causes great inconvenience and loss. "

Here the Babu whispered in his ear. 

"Yes, and add--you will know how to put it--that if the dastaks are sentoff immediately, the Faujdar will receive from Mr. Merriman a suitablegratification. "

The Armenian rubbed his hands and smilingly assented; but Desmond, whohad had some practice in reading faces since he left Market Draytoneighteen months before, felt an uneasy suspicion that Coja Solomon was ascamp. Returning to the factory, he acquainted Mr. Watts with the resultof his interview and his opinion of the agent. The chief's eye twinkled. 

"You haven't been long reckoning him up, Mr. Burke. I'm afraid you'reright. I'll see what I can do for you. "

Calling "Qui hai {'Is there any one?'--used as a summons}!" he orderedthe peon who appeared in answer to his summons to go to the blackmerchants' houses, a row of two-story buildings some forty yards from thesouthwest bastion, and bring back with him Babu Joti Lal Chatterji. 

In less than ten minutes the man returned with an intelligent-lookingyoung Bengali. Mr. Watts addressed the latter in Hindustani, bidding himhasten to Murshidabad and find out quietly what the Faujdar was doingwith the dastaks. When he had gone, Mr. Watts showed Desmond over thefort, introduced him to his wife, and then took him round the Englishsettlement. 

Next day Joti Lal Chatterji returned from Murshidabad with the news thatthe dastaks, duly signed by the Faujdar, had been delivered to CojaSolomon a fortnight before. 

"'Tis rather worse than I expected, " said Mr. Watts gravely. "There issomething in this that I do not understand. We will send for CojaSolomon. "

No one could have seemed more genuinely surprised than the Armenian wheninformed of what had been learned. He had received no dastaks, hedeclared; either a mistake had been made, or the papers had beenintercepted, possibly by some enemy who had a grudge against him andwished to embroil him with his employer. It was annoying, he agreed; andhe offered to go to Murshidabad himself and, if necessary, get otherdastaks signed. 

"Very well, " said Mr. Watts, from whose manner no one could have guessedthat he suspected his visitor. "We shall look for you tomorrow. "

The man departed. Nothing was heard of him for two days. Then a letterarrived, saying that he remained in Murshidabad, awaiting the return ofthe Faujdar, who had been summoned to Rajmahal by the Nawab Sirajuddaula. Three more days slipped by, and nothing further was heard from CojaSolomon. 

Desmond became more and more impatient. Bulger suggested that they shouldbreak into the godown and remove the goods without any ceremony--a coursethat Desmond himself was not disinclined to adopt; but when he hinted atit to Mr. Watts that gentleman's look of horror could not have been moreexpressive if his consent had been asked to commit a crime. 

"Why, Mr. Burke, if we acted in that impetuous way we'd have all Bengalat our throats. Trade must pass through the usual channels; to conveygoods from here to Calcutta without a dastak would be a gravemisdemeanor, if not high treason; and it would get us into very hot waterwith the Nawab. I can only advise patience. "

One morning, Desmond had just finished breakfast with Mr. Watts and hiswife, when Lieutenant Elliott, in command of the garrison, cameunceremoniously into the room. 

"Mr. Watts, " he said, "the fat's in the fire. A lot of the Nawab'sPersian cavalry have come into the town during the night. They havesurrounded the French and Dutch factories and are coming on here. "

"Don't be alarmed, my dear, " said the chief, as his wife started up in astate of panic; "'tis only one of the Nawab's tricks. He has used thatmeans of extorting money before. We'll buy them off, never fear. "

But it was soon seen that the troops had come with a more seriouspurpose. They completely invested the factory, and next day withdrew theguards that had been placed around the French and Dutch forts, andconfined their whole attention to the British. Mr. Watts withdrew all thegarrison and officials behind the bastioned walls of the fort, andfearing that an attack in force would be made upon him, despatched akasid {courier} to Calcutta with an urgent request for reinforcements. 

While waiting anxiously for the reply, he took stock of his position. Hisgarrison numbered only fifty men all told, half of them being Dutchdeserters and the remainder half-caste topasses, with only two Englishofficers, Lieutenant Elliott and Sergeant Bowler. The guns of the fortwere old; and within a few yards of the walls were houses that wouldafford excellent cover to the enemy. Without help resistance for anylength of time was impossible, and to resist at all meant a declarationof war against the Nawab, and would entail serious consequences--possiblyinvolve the total ruin of the Company in Bengal. In this difficultposition Mr. Watts hoped that an opportunity of making an arrangementwith the besiegers would offer itself. Meanwhile, pending the arrival ofinstructions from Calcutta, he gave orders that any attempt to force anentrance to the fort was to be repelled. 

But no letters came from Calcutta. Though several were despatched, noneof them reached Cossimbazar. On June first Ridurlabh, in command of thebesiegers, received orders from the Nawab, now at Murshidabad, to takethe fort. He came to the gate and tried to force an entrance, buthurriedly withdrew when he met Sergeant Bowler's gleaming bayonet and sawthe gunners standing by with lighted matches in their hands. 

By and by he sent a messenger asking Mr. Watts to come out and parley. And offering a betel, the usual native pledge of safe conduct. Againstthe advice of Lieutenant Elliott, Mr. Watts decided to leave the fort andvisit the Nawab himself. Next day, therefore, with Mr. Forth, thesurgeon, and two servants, he departed, cheerfully declaring that hewould make all right with Sirajuddaula. Mr. Forth returned a day laterwith the news that on reaching the Nawab's tent both he and Mr. Watts hadhad their arms bound behind their backs and been led as prisoners intoSirajuddaula's presence. The Nawab had demanded their signatures to adocument binding the English at Calcutta to demolish theirfortifications. Mr. Watts explained that the signatures of two othermembers of his Council were required, hoping that the delay would allowtime for help to reach him from Calcutta. After some hesitation twogentlemen left the fort with the surgeon. 

The same evening Mr. Forth once more returned to inform the garrison thatthe members of Council had likewise been imprisoned, and that Mr. Wattsrecommended Lieutenant Elliott to deliver up the fort and ammunition. 

The merchants in the factory were aghast; Lieutenant Elliott fumed withindignation; but they saw that they had no alternative. Their chief hadbeen removed by treachery; to resist was hopeless; and though suchsubmission to a native was galling they could but recognize theirhelplessness and make the best of a bad situation. Desmond, besidessharing in their anger, had a further cause for concern in the almostcertain loss of Mr. Merriman's goods. But the fort would not be given uptill next day, and before he retired to rest he received a message thatturned his thoughts into another channel and made him set his wits towork. 

During the siege natives had been allowed to go freely in and out betweenthe fort and the settlement; Ridurlabh was confident in his superiornumbers and could afford to regard with indifference the despatch ofmessages to Calcutta. A messenger came to Desmond in the evening fromSurendra Nath, to say that Coja Solomon had returned to Cossimbazar, andwas now loading up Mr. Merriman's goods in petalas {cargo boats}, theirdestination being Murshidabad. Desmond saw at once that the Armenian wastaking advantage of the disturbance to make away with the goods for hisown behoof. He could always pretend afterwards that his godown had beenplundered. It was pretty clear, too, that his long detention of the goodsmust be due to his having had a hint of the Nawab's plans. 

This news reached Desmond just after Mr. Forth had brought orders for thesurrender of the fort. He kept his own counsel. After his experience atGheria he was resolved not to be made a prisoner again; but he would notbe content with merely saving his own skin. Mr. Merriman's goods werevaluable; it touched Desmond's self esteem to think he should be bestedby a rascally Armenian. If there had been any prospect of a fight indefense of the fort he would have stayed to take his part in it; but asthe factory was to be given up without a struggle he saw no reason forconsidering anything except the interests of Mr. Merriman and himself. 

Only one thing gave him a slight qualm. The equities of the case wereperfectly clear; but he had some doubt as to the issue if it shouldbecome known that he had forcibly made off with the goods. The relationsbetween the Nawab and the Company were so strained, and the circumstancesof the moment so dangerous, that such action on his part might prove thespark to a train of gunpowder. But he could not help thinking that theNawab was in any case bent on picking a quarrel with the Company;anything that Desmond might do would be but one petty incident in apossible campaign; meanwhile the goods were worth two lakhs of rupees, aserious loss to Mr. Merriman if Coja Solomon's plans succeeded; an effortto save them was surely worth the risk, and they could only be saved ifhe could secure them before the Armenian's boats had started forMurshidabad. 

He did not take long to decide upon a plan. Calling the native who hadattended him in the fort, he sent him out to Surendra Nath withinstructions to prepare his peons for instant action. Bulger was withthem; he had been absent from Bowler's house when the order came toretire to the fort, and only just succeeded in joining Surendra Nathbefore the investment began. 

From Joti Lal Chatterji, the man whom Mr. Watts had employed to makeinquiries in Murshidabad, the servant was to get a dress such as would beworn by a khitmatgar {table servant}, and some material for staining theskin. In the darkness Desmond hoped that he might pass without questionfor a native so long as disguise was necessary. Within an hour the manreturned, bringing the articles required. 

Chapter 21: In which Coja Solomon finds dishonesty the worse policy; and ajourney down the Hugli little to his liking. 

The short twilight was thickening into darkness when Desmond, with face, legs, and arms stained brown, slipped out of the fort in native dress andwalked slowly towards the houses of the native merchants. In his hand hecarried a small bundle. Reaching the house where his party was staying, kept by one Abdul Kader, he almost betrayed himself by forgetting to slipoff his sandals as he entered. But he bethought himself in time and wasadmitted without question. 

He found that he was not a moment too soon. Bulger had taken up hisquarters there with a very bad grace, the arrival of the Nawab's armyhaving aroused in him the fighting spirit of the sturdy British tar. Butwhen the news ran through the settlement that the fort was to be given uphis feelings overcame him, and it was only with the greatest difficultythat Surendra Nath had persuaded him to wait patiently for orders fromDesmond. Then the Babu himself had quitted the house, and Bulger was leftwithout the restraint of anyone who could speak English. He was on thepoint of casting off all prudence and stalking out, like Achilles fromhis tent, when Desmond arrived. 

"By thunder, sir!" he said, when he had recovered from his astonishmentat seeing Desmond in native dress, "I en't a-goin' to surrender to noMoors, sure as my name's Bulger. 'Tis a downright scandalous shame;that's what I call it. "

"Well, you can tell Mr. Watts so if ever you see him. At present we haveno time to waste in talk. Where is Surendra Nath?"

"Gone to keep his weather eye on the codger's godown, sir. "

"Which shows he's a man of sense. Are all the men here?"

"So far as I know, sir. I may be wrong. "

"Well, they'll make their way in small parties down to the river. 'Tisdark enough now; they will not be noticed, and they can steal along thebank under the trees until they come near Coja Solomon's ghat. You mustcome with me. "

"Very good, sir, " replied Bulger, hitching up his breeches and drawinghis hanger. 

"But not like that. You'll have to get those black whiskers of yoursshaved, my man. If they grew all over you'd pass perhaps for a Moor; butnot with a fringe like that. And you must stain your face; I have thestuff in this bundle; and we'll borrow a dhoti and sandals from AbdulKader. We'll dress you up between us. "

Bulger looked aghast. 

"Dash my buttons, sir, I'll look like a November guy! What would my matessay, a-seein' me dressed up like a stuffed Moor at Smithfield fair--apenny a shy, sir?"

"Your mates are not here to see you, and if you hold your tongue they'llnever know it. "

"But what about this little corkscrew o' mine, sir? I don't see any wayso' dressin' that up. "

"You can stick it into your dhoti. Now here are soap and a razor; I giveyou ten minutes to shave and get your face stained; Abdul Kader willhelp. Quick's the word, man. "

A quarter of an hour later Desmond left the house with Bulger, thelatter, in spite of the darkness, looking very much ashamed of himself. The other members of the party had already gone towards the river. Walking very slowly until they had safely cleared the lines of theinvesting troops, the two hurried their pace and about half-past eightreached the Armenian godown. The three boats containing Mr. Merriman'sgoods were moored at the ghat. A number of men were on board, and baleswere still being carried down by the light of torches. It appeared thatCoja Solomon had no intention of leaving until the factory was actuallyin Rai Durlabh's hands. 

Desmond had already decided that, to legalize his position, he must gainpossession of the dastaks. Not that they would help him much if, as wasonly too probable, Coja Solomon should be backed up by the Nawab. As soonas it was discovered that the goods had been carried off, kasids wouldundoubtedly be sent along the banks, possibly swift boats would set offdown the river in pursuit, and, dastaks or no dastaks, the goods would beimpounded at Khulna or Hugli and himself arrested. It was therefore ofthe first importance that the loss of the boats should not be discovereduntil he was well on his way, and to insure this he must secure theperson of Coja Solomon. If that could be done there was a chance ofdelaying the pursuit, or preventing it altogether. 

Desmond kept well in the shelter of the palm trees as he made hisobservation of the ghat. He wondered where Surendra Nath was, but couldnot waste time in looking for him. Retracing his steps with Bulger for alittle distance, he came to a spot on the river bank where the rest ofhis party were waiting in a boat, moored to an overhanging tree. Heordered the men to land; then, leaving Bulger in charge of them, heselected three of the armed peons and with them made his way across paddy{rice} fields toward the Armenian's house, a hundred yards or so from thebank. 

Light came through the reed-screened window. Bidding the men remainoutside and rush in if he called them, he left the shelter of the treesand, approaching the door, stumbled over the darwan lying across thethreshold. 

"Hai, darwan!" he said, with the bluntness of servant addressing servant;"sleeping again! Go and tell your master I'm here to see him: akhitmatgar from the fort. "

The man rose sleepily and preceded him into the house. He made theannouncement, salaamed and retired. Desmond went in. 

In a little room on the ground floor Coja Solomon reclined on a divan, smoking his hubblebubble. A small oil lamp burnt on a bracket above hishead. He looked up as Desmond entered; if he thought that his visitor wassomewhat better set-up than the average khitmatgar, he did not suspectany disguise. The light was dim, and Coja Solomon was old. 

"Good evening, Khwaja, " said Desmond quietly. 

The man jumped as if shot. 

"No, don't get up, and don't make a noise. My business with you will nottake long. I will ask you to hand over Mr. Merriman's dastaks. I knowthat they are in your possession. I have come to get them, and to takeaway the goods--Mr. Merriman's goods. "

The Armenian had meanwhile removed the mouthpiece of his hubblebubble, and was bending over as if to replace it by one of several that lay on ashelf at his right hand. But Desmond noticed that beneath the shelf stooda small gong. He whipped out a pistol, and pointed it full at themerchant. 

"Don't touch that, " he said curtly. "I have not come unprepared, as yousee. Your plans are known to me. If you value your life you will do as Iwish, without delay or disturbance. My men are outside; a word from mewill bring them swarming in. Now, the dastaks!"

Coja Solomon was an Armenian and a merchant; in neither capacity afighting man. In a contest of wits he could be as cool and as ready asany man in Bengal; but he had no skill in arms and no physical courage. There was an air of determination about his visitor that impressed him;and he felt by no means comfortable within point-blank range of thepistol covering him so completely. If his thoughts had been read, theywould have run somewhat thus: "Pistols have been known to go offaccidentally. What will the goods profit me if such an accident happennow? Besides, even if I yield there may still be a chance of saving them. It is a long way to Calcutta: the river is low: God be praised the rainshave not begun! There are shallows and rocks along its course: the boatsmust go slowly: and the Nawab's horsemen can soon outstrip them on thebanks. The dog of an Englishman thinks he has outwitted me: we shall see. And he is only a youth: let us see if Coja Solomon is not a match forhim. "

Rising to his feet, he smiled and shrugged, and spread out his handsdeprecatingly. 

"It is true the dastaks are here, " he said suavely, "but they onlyreached me yesterday, and indeed, as soon as I received them, I had thegoods put on board the boats for transit to Calcutta. "

"That is very fortunate, " said Desmond. "It will save my time. As Mr. Merriman's representative I will take over the goods--with the dastaks. "

"If you will excuse me, I will fetch them. "

"Stay!" said Desmond, as the man moved toward the door. He had notlowered the pistol. "Where are they?"

"They are in my office beside the godown. "

"Very well. It would be a pity to trouble you to bring them here. I willgo with you. Will you lead the way?"

He knew it was a lie. Valuable papers would not be left in a hut of anoffice, and he had already noticed a curiously wrought almara {cabinet}at one end of the room--just the place to keep documents. 

There was the shadow of a scowl on the Armenian's face. The manhesitated; then walked towards the door: stopped as if at a suddenrecollection; and turned to Desmond with a bland smile. 

"I was forgetting, " he said, "I brought the papers here for safety'ssake. "

He went to the almara, searched for a moment, and handed two papers toDesmond. 

"There, sir, " he said, with a quite paternal smile; "you take theresponsibility. In these unfortunate circumstances"--he waved his hand inthe direction of the factory--"it is, believe me, a relief to me to seethe last of these papers. 

"That is well. "

But Desmond, as he took the papers, felt himself in a quandary. Though hecould speak, he could not read Hindustani! The papers might not be thedastaks after all. What was he to do?

The peons were not likely to be able to read. He scanned the papers. There was the name Merriman in English characters, but all the rest wasin native script. The smile hovering on the Armenian's face annoyedDesmond, and he was still undecided what to do when a voice at his elbowgave him welcome relief. 

"Babu Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti, " announced the darwan. 

The Babu entered. 

"Come and tell me if these are our dastaks, " said Desmond. 

The Babu ran his eyes over the papers, and declared:

"Yes, sir, they are the identical papers, and I perceive the signature ofthe Faujdar is dated three weeks ago. "

"Thank you, " said Desmond. 

"Now, Coja Solomon, I must ask you to come with me. "

"Why, sir--" began the Armenian, no longer smiling. 

"I will explain to you by and by. --

"What is it, Surendra Nath?"

The Babu whispered a word or two in his ear. 

"A happy thought!" said Desmond. "Surendra Nath suggests that I shouldborrow that excellent robe I see yonder, Khwaja; and your turban also. They will become me better than this khitmatgar's garb, I doubt not. "

Coja Solomon looked on helplessly as Desmond exchanged his meanergarments for the richer clothes of his unwilling host. 

"Now we will go. You will tell the darwan that you have gone down to theghat, so that if a question is asked he will be at no loss for ananswer. "

In the faint light of the rising moon the barrel of the pistol gleamed asthey came into the open. The Armenian marched between Desmond and theBabu. Behind came the three peons, moving as silently as ghosts. 

"The Khwaja, " said Desmond to them in the Armenian's hearing, as theyreached the ghat, "is coming a little way with us down the river. 

"You, Kristodas Das, will go and tell Bulger Sahib that I wish him tofollow the Khwaja's boats at a few yards' distance, and to be prepared toboard at any moment. 

"You, " turning to the other two peons, "will come with me. The Khwajawill send word to his durwan that he is going to Murshidabad by river andwill not return tonight; his house is to be locked up. The Khwaja will, Iam sure, give these orders correctly, for Surendra Nath will understandbetter than I what he says. "

With the Babu, the two peons, and Coja Solomon, who was now obviously illat ease, Desmond went down the ghat to the place where the crews of thepetalas were assigned to him. The man dared not depart by a jot from thewords put into his mouth. One of his coolies left with the message, therest followed their employer on board with Desmond and his companions, and in a few minutes the three boats were cast off and stood upstream. Asthey started Desmond saw the boat containing Bulger and his men slip fromthe shade of the trees and begin to creep after them. 

The boats had not gone more than a couple of hundred yards upstream whenCoja Solomon, at Desmond's orders, bade the men row toward the oppositeshore and turn the boats' heads round, explaining that he had decidedafter all to convey the goods to Hugli. There was some grumbling amongthe crew, who had expected to go to Murshidabad, and did not relish theprospect of the longer voyage. But the Armenian, knowing that every wordwas overheard by Desmond's men, made haste to pacify the boatmen. 

It was by no means easy work getting down the river. The boats were flatbottomed and drew very little water; but the stream being very low, theystuck fast time after time in the shallows. By day the boatmen might havepicked their way more carefully, but the moon was new and shed too littlelight for river navigation. More than once they had to leap overboardand, wading, shove and haul until the boats came off the mud banks intopracticable water again. They rowed hard when the course was clear, encouraged by promises of liberal bakshish made by their employer atDesmond's prompting. But the interruptions were so frequent that the dawnfound the boats only some thirty miles from their starting-point. Theriver being here a little deeper, Desmond could afford to let the rowerstake a much-needed rest, while the boats floated down with the stream. 

But as the day wore on the river again played them false, and progresswas at times reduced to scarcely more than two miles an hour. Things hadbeen uncomfortable in the night, but the discomforts were increasedtenfold in the day. It was the hottest season of the year; out of theclear sky the sun's rays beat down with pitiless ferocity; the wholelandscape was a-quiver with heat; all things seemed to swoon under theoppression. The petalas, being cargo boats, were not provided with anyaccommodation or conveniences for passengers; and Desmond's thoughts ashe lay panting on his mat, haggard from want of sleep, faint from want offood--for though there was rice on board, and the men ate freely, he hadno appetite for that--reverted to the worst period of his imprisonment inGheria, and he recalled the sufferings he had endured there. 

Here at least he was free. His journey had so far been unmolested, and hehoped that the happy chance that had favored him at Cossimbazar would notfail him now. 

He was in a fever of impatience; yet the men were doing their best. Theypassed the mud walls of Cutwa; another stage of the journey was safelycompleted; but twelve miles lower down there was a post at Path; and withevery mile the danger grew. 

Desmond talked over the situation with the Babu. Surendra Nath agreedthat by nightfall, if no unforeseen delay occurred, they might hope to bein the neighborhood of Khulna, and arrive there before any messengercarrying news of the escape. 

But there was little or no chance of the same good fortune at Hugli. Theprize was so valuable that every effort would certainly be made to stopthem. A whole day or more might pass before the reason of Coja Solomon'sabsence was discovered. But when the discovery was made fast runnerswould be sent to Khulna and Hugli, and by relays the distance betweenCossimbazar and Hugli could be covered in twenty-four hours. Supposingsuch a messenger started at nightfall on June fifth, nearly twenty-fourhours after Coja Solomon's disappearance, he might well get to Hugli longbefore the fugitive boats, even if they were rowed all night withoutcessation; and the men were already so much fatigued that such continuousexertion could hardly be expected of them. 

There was a further danger. If the news of the capture of CossimbazarFort had preceded him, he might be stopped at any of the riverside placeswithout any reference to Coja Solomon's abduction, pending orders fromthe Nawab. Desmond's anxiety would have been largely increased had heknown that Sirajuddaula, before his men had actually marched into thefort, had already started with the bulk of his forces on his fatefulmarch to Calcutta. 

Desmond was still in conversation with the Babu when the little flotillacame in sight of Patli. Its approach was observed. A boat put off fromthe ghat, and awaited the arrival of Desmond's boat in midstream. As itcame alongside an official ordered the men to cease rowing and demandedto know who was the owner of the goods on board and to see the dastaks. The Babu, to whom Desmond had intrusted the papers, showed them to theman; he scanned them, said that he was satisfied, and rowed back to theghat. 

Evidently he had no suspicions. During the short colloquy Desmond keptclose beside the Armenian, who was well known to the riverside official;but Coja Solomon was thoroughly scared, and had not the presence of mindto do anything more than to acknowledge the customary salaam. 

Desmond breathed freely once more now that Path was passed. Buttwo-thirds of the journey still remained to be completed, and he dare nothope that at his slow rate of progress he would be able always to keepahead of information from Cossimbazar. Seeing that he could not hastenhis journey, he wondered whether it was possible to put pursuers off thescent. After thinking for a while he said to the Babu, out of hearing ofthe Armenian:

"I have an idea, Surendra Nath: tell me what you think of it. Did you nottell me as we came up that there is a gumashta {agent} of the Company atSantipur?"

"Certainly I did, sir. "

"Well, as we are, I fear, sure to be cut off by water, may we not take tothe land? Could not the gumashta get us a dozen hackeris {bullock carts}?We could transfer the goods to them and elude our pursuers perhaps longenough for help to arrive from Calcutta. "

"That is good counsel, sir; why should we not do so?"

Accordingly, when they came to the spot where the high road crossed theriver by a ford, Desmond ordered his men to row in to the left bank. Selecting two men who knew the country, he bade them land and make thebest speed in carrying out instructions which he proceeded to give them. 

"You, Mohun Lal, " he said, "will go to Santipur, quickly, avoidingobservation, and request the gumashta in Merriman Sahib's name to havetwelve hackeris, or as many as he can collect, ready to receive loads twoor three hours before tomorrow's dawn. He must get them from thevillages, not from Khulna or Amboa, and he must not tell anyone why herequires the carts. 

"You, Ishan, will go on to Calcutta, find Merriman Sahib, and ask him tosend a body of armed men along the Barrakpur road towards Santipur. Youwill tell him what we have done, and also that Cossimbazar Fort is in thehands of the Nawab, and Watts Sahib a prisoner. He may know this already. You both understand?"

The men salaamed and started on their journey. 

Chapter 22: In which is given a full, true, and particular account of theBattle of the Carts. 

Desmond expected that Mohun Lal would reach Santipur shortly afternightfall. He himself might hope to arrive there, if not intercepted atKhulna or Amboa, at any time between midnight and three o'clock, according to the state of the river. 

It was approaching dusk when he drew near to Khulna. The boats havingbeen tied up to the bank, as the custom was, Desmond sent the Babu tofind out from the Company's gumashta there whether news of the capture ofCossimbazar Fort had reached the bazar, and if any runner had come infrom the north. In an hour the Babu returned. He said that there wasgreat excitement in the bazar: no official messenger had arrived, buteverybody was saying that the Nawab had captured the English factory atCossimbazar, and was going to drive all the Firangi out of Bengal. 

Desmond decided to take a bold course. Official news not having arrived, he might seize the moment to present his dastaks and get away before thecustoms officers found any pretext for stopping him. Everything happenedas he hoped. He met with no more difficulty than at Path, and informingthe official who examined the dastaks that he would drop down to Amboabefore tying up for the night, he drew out again into the stream. 

He spent some time in consultation with the serang. In a rather desolatereach of the Hugli, he learned that in the middle of the stream there wasa small island, uninhabited save by teal and other waterfowl, and notknown to be the haunt of tigers or other beasts of prey. Reaching thisislet about ten o'clock at night, when all river traffic had ceased, herowed in, and landed the Armenian with his crews. 

"I thank you for your company, Coja Solomon, " he said blandly. 'We musthere part, to my regret, for I should like to have the pleasure ofwitnessing your meeting with Mr. Merriman. The nights are warm, and youwill, I am sure, be quite comfortable till the morning, when no doubt apassing boat will take you off and convey you back to your business atCossimbazar. "

"I will not stay here, " protested the Armenian, his face livid withanger. 

"Believe me, you have no choice. Let me remind you that had you behavedhonestly there would have been no reason for putting you to theinconvenience of this tiring journey. You have brought it on yourself. "

Coja Solomon sullenly went up the shore. Desmond then paid the menhandsomely: they had indeed worked well, and they were abundantlysatisfied with the hire they received. 

Leaving Coja Solomon to his bitter reflections, Desmond dropped down toSantipur, arriving there about two o'clock in the morning. Just beforedawn ten hackeris, each yoked with two oxen, drew up near the Company'sghat. They were accompanied by a crowd of the inhabitants, lively withcuriosity about the engagement of so many vehicles. The gumashta came upwith the first cart, his face clouded with anxiety. He recognized theBabu at once, and said that while he had fulfilled the order he hadreceived on Mr. Merriman's behalf, he had done it in fear and trembling. The whole country knew that Cossimbazar Fort was in possession of theNawab, and, more than that, the Nawab had on the previous day set outwith an immense army for Calcutta. Santipur was not on the high road, andthe Company was respected there; yet the gumashta feared the people wouldmake an attack on the party if they suspected that they carried goodsbelonging to an Englishman. 

Hitherto Desmond had kept himself in the background. But now he had anidea inspired by confidence in his costume. Introducing himself to thegumashta, he asked him to give out that the party was in command of aFirangi in the service of the Nawab, and was conveying part of theNawab's private equipage in advance to Baraset, a few miles north ofCalcutta, there to await the arrival of the main army. To make theimposition more effective, he called for the lambadar of the village andordered him in the Nawab's name to despatch a flotilla of twenty-fivewollacks {barges} to Cutwa to convey the official baggage. 

The trick proved effective. Desmond found himself regarded as a person ofimportance; the natives humbly salaamed to him; and, taking matters witha high hand, he impressed a score of the village idlers into the work oftransferring his precious bales from the boats to the hackeris. The workwas accomplished in half an hour. 

"Bulger, " said Desmond, when the loading was done, "you will consideryourself in charge of this convoy. The Babu will interpret for you. Youwill hurry on as fast as possible toward Calcutta. I shall overtake youby and by. The people here believe that I am a Frenchman, so you hadbetter pass as that, too, for of course your disguise will deceive nonative in the daylight. "

"Well I knows it. " said Bulger. "They've been starin' at me like as if Iwas a prize pig this half hour and more, and lookin' most uncommoncurious at my little button hook. But, sir, I don't see any call for meto make out I'm a mounseer. 'T'ud make me uneasy inside, sir, the verythought of eatin' what the mounseers eat. "

"My good man, there's no need to carry it too far. Do as you please, onlytake care of the goods. "

Except Desmond and four men whom he retained, the whole party moved offwith the hackeris towards Calcutta. The road was an unmade track, heavywith dust, rough, execrably bad; and at the gumashta's suggestion Desmondhad arranged for three extra teams of oxen to accompany the carts, toextricate them in case of necessity from holes or soft places. Fortunately the weather was dry: had the rains begun--and they wereoverdue--the road would have been a slough of mud and ooze, and thejourney would have been impossible. 

When the convoy had set off, Desmond with three men, including theserang, returned to the empty boats. The lookers-on stared to see thecraft put off and drop down the river with a crew of one man each:Desmond in the first, and the smaller boat that had contained Bulger andhis party trailing behind. Floating down some four or five miles with thestream, Desmond gave the order to scuttle the three petalas, and rowedashore in the smaller boat. On reaching land he got the serang to knock ahole in the bottom of the boat, and shoved it off towards midstream, where it rapidly filled and sank. 

It was full daylight when Desmond and his party of three struck offinland in a direction that would bring them upon the track of the carts. He had a presentiment that his difficulties were only beginning. By thistime, no doubt, the news of his escapade had been carried through thecountry by the swift kasids of the Nawab. His passing at Khulna and Amboawould be reported, and a watch would be kept for him at Hugli. Ifperchance a kasid or a chance traveler entered Santipur, the trick he hadpractised there would be immediately discovered; but if the messengeronly touched at the places on the direct route on the other bank, hemight hope that some time would elapse before the authorities theresuspected that he had left the river. They must soon learn that threepetalas lay wrecked in the stream below Amboa; but they could not satisfythemselves without examination that these were the vessels of which theywere in search. 

Tramping across two miles of fields newly sown with maize and sorghum, heat length descried the trail of his convoy and soon came up with it. Ifpursuers were indeed upon his track, only by the greatest good fortunecould he escape them. The carts creaked along with painful slowness; thewheels halfway to the axles in dust; now stopping altogether, now rockinglike ships in a stormy sea. 

With his arrival and the promise of liberal bakshish the hackeriwallahsurged the laboring oxen with their cruel goads till Desmond, alwaystender with animals, could hardly endure the sight. By nine o'clock themorning had become stiflingly hot. There was little or no breeze, andDesmond, unused of late to active exercise, found the heat terriblytrying. But Bulger suffered still more. A stout, florid man, he toiledalong, panting, streaming with sweat, in difficulties so manifest, thatDesmond, eying him anxiously, feared lest a stroke of apoplexy shouldbring him to an untimely end. 

The country was so flat that a string of carts could not fail to be seenfrom a long distance. If noticed from the towers of Hugli across theriver, curiosity, if not suspicion, would be aroused, and it would nottake long to send over by a ford a force sufficient to arrest and capturethe party. To escape observation it was necessary to make wide detours. At several small hamlets on the route Desmond managed to get fresh oxen, but not enough for complete changes of team. 

So, through all the broiling heat of the day, at hours when no otherEuropeans in all Bengal were out of doors, the convoy struggled on, making its own road, crossing the dry beds of pools, skirting or laboringover rugged nullahs. 

At nightfall Desmond learned from one of the drivers that they were stillsix miles short of being opposite to Hugli. The patient Bengalis couldendure no more; the oxen were done up, the men refused to go fartherwithout a rest. Halting at a hamlet some five miles from the river, theyrested and fed till midnight, then set off again. It was not soinsufferably hot at night, but on the other hand they were less able toavoid obstructions: and the rest had not been long enough to make up forthe terrible exertions of the day. 

By daybreak they were some distance past Hugli, still keeping about fivemiles from the river. Desmond was beginning to congratulate himself thatthe worst was over; Barrackpur was only about twelve miles away. But alittle after dawn he caught sight of a European on horseback crossingtheir track towards the river. He was going at a walking pace, attendedby two syces {grooms}. Attracted, apparently, by the sight, unusual atthis time of year, of a string of hackeris, he wheeled his horse andcantered towards the tail of the convoy, which was under Bulger's charge. 

"Hai, hackeriwallah, " he said in Urdu to the rearmost driver, "to whom dothese hackeris belong?"

"To the great Company, huzur. The sahib will tell you. "

"The sahib--what sahib?" asked the rider in astonishment. 

"The sahib yonder, " replied the man, pointing to Bulger. 

Bulger had been staring at the horseman, and growing more and more red inthe face. Catching the rider's surprised look, he could contain himselfno longer. 

"By thunder! 'tis that villain Diggle!" he shouted, and rushed forward todrag him from his horse. 

But Diggle was not taken unawares. Setting spurs to his steed, he causedit to spring away. Bulger raised his musket, but ere he could fire Digglewas out of range. Keeping a careful distance he rode leisurely along thewhole convoy, and a smile of malignant pleasure shone upon his face as hetook stock of its contents. 

Meanwhile Bulger, already repenting of his hasty action, hurried forwardto acquaint Desmond with what had happened. Diggle's smile broadened; hehalted and took a long look at the tall figure in native dress to whomBulger was so excitedly speaking. Then, turning his horse in thedirection of the river, he spoke over his shoulder to his syces andgalloped away, followed by them at a run. 

"You were a fool, Bulger, " said Desmond testily. "This may lead to no endof trouble. "

Bulger looked penitent, and wrathful, and overwhelmed. 

"We must try to hurry, " added Desmond to Surendra Nath. "Promise the menmore bakshish: don't stint. "

For two hours longer they pushed on with all the speed of which the jadedbeasts were capable. Every now and again Desmond looked anxiously back, hoping against hope that they would not be pursued. But he knew thatDiggle had recognized him, and being prepared for the worst, he began torack his brains for some means of defense. 

Misfortune seemed to dog him. Two of the oxen collapsed. It was necessaryto distribute the loads of their hackeris among the others. The march wasdelayed, and when the convoy was again under way, its progress was slowerthan ever. 

It had, indeed, barely started, when in the distance Desmond spied ahorseman cantering towards them. A few minutes revealed him as Diggle. Herode up almost within musket shot, then turned and trotted back. 

What was the meaning of his action? Desmond, from his position near theforemost hackeri, could see nothing more. But, a few yards ahead of him, to the right of the track, there was a low artificial mound, possibly thesite of an ancient temple, standing at the edge of a nullah, its top someten or twelve feet above the surrounding plain. Hastening to this hegained the summit, and, looking back, saw a numerous body of men on footadvancing rapidly from the direction in which the horseman had come. Intwenty minutes they would have come up with the convoy. He must turn atbay. 

He glanced anxiously around. He was in the midst of an almost baresun-baked plain, the new-sown fields awaiting the rains to spring intoverdure. Here and there were clumps of trees--the towering palmyra withits fan-shaped foliage, the bamboo with its feathery branches, theplantain, throwing its immense leaves of vivid green into every fantasticform. There was no safety on the plain. 

But below him was the nullah, thirty feet deep, eighty yards wide, soonto be a swollen torrent dashing towards the Hugli, but now dry. Its sideswere in parts steep, and unscalable in face of determined resistance. Ina moment Desmond saw the utmost of possibility. 

Running back to the convoy, he turned its head towards the mound, and, calling every man to the help of the oxen, he dragged the carts one byone to the top. There he caused the beasts to be unyoked, and placed thehackeris, their poles interlocked, so as to form a rough semicircularbreastwork around the summit of the mound. For a moment he hesitated indeciding what to do with the cattle. Should he keep them within hislittle intrenchment? If they took fright they might stampede and domischief; in any case they would be in the way, and he resolved to sendthem all off under charge of such of the drivers as were too timid toremain. He noticed that the Babu was quivering with alarm. 

"Surendra Nath, " he said, "this is no place for you. Slip away quietly;go towards Calcutta; and if you meet Mr. Merriman coming in response tomy message, tell him the plight we are in and ask him to hasten to ourhelp. "

"I do not like to show the white feather, sir, " said the Babu. 

"Not at all, Babu, we must have a trustworthy messenger: you are the man. Now get away as fast as you can. "

The Babu departed on his errand with the speed of gladness and relief. 

The ground sloped sharply outward from the carts, and the rear of theposition was formed by the nullah. The last two hackeris were beingplaced in position when the vanguard of the pursuers, with Diggle attheir head, came to a point just out of range. The party was larger thanDesmond had estimated it to be at his first hasty glance. There were sometwenty men armed with matchlocks, and forty with swords and lathis. Allwere natives. 

His heart sank as he measured the odds against him. What was his dismaywhen he saw, half a mile off, another body following up. And these werewhite men! Was Diggle bringing the French of Chandernagore into the fray?

Desmond posted his twelve armed peons behind the hackeris. He gave themstrict orders to fire only at the word of command, and as they hadundergone some discipline in Calcutta he hoped that, if only in selfpreservation, they would maintain a certain steadiness. Behind them heplaced twelve sturdy boatmen armed with half pikes, instructing them totake the place of the peons when they had fired. Bulger stood at themidpoint of the semicircle; his rough square face was a deep purple witha rim of black; his dhoti had become loosened, leaving his greatshoulders and brawny chest bare; his turban was awry; his eyes, bloodshotwith the heat, were as the eyes of Mars himself, burning with the fire ofbattle. 

The pursuers had halted. Diggle came forward, trotting his horse up tothe base of the mound. The peons fingered their matchlocks and lookedexpectant; Bulger growled; but Desmond gazed calmly at his enemy. 

"Your disguise is excellent, " said Diggle in his smoothest tones; "but Ibelieve I speak to Mr. Desmond Burke. "

"Yes, Mr. Diggle, " said Desmond, stepping forward. 

"I am glad to have overtaken you. Sure you have encamped early. I have amessage from my friend the Faujdar of Hugli. By some mistake aconsignment of merchandise has been illegally removed from Cossimbazar, and the Faujdar, understanding that the goods are contained in thesecarts, bids me ask you to deliver them up to his men, whom you see herewith me. "

Desmond was anxious to gain time. He thought out his plan of action whileDiggle was speaking. His impulsiveness prompted a flat defiance in fewwords; policy counseled a formality of utterance equal to Diggle's. 

"These carts certainly contain merchandise, Mr. Diggle, " he said. "It isthe property of Mr. Edward Merriman, of Calcutta; I think you know him?It was removed from Cossimbazar; but not, I assure you, illegally. I havethe dastaks authorizing its removal to Calcutta; they are signed by theFaujdar of Murshidabad. Has the Faujdar of--where did you say?"

"Of Hugli. "

"Has the Faujdar of Hugli power to countermand what the Faujdar of thecapital has done?"

"Why discuss that point?" said Diggle with a smile. "The Faujdar of Hugliis an officer of the Nawab; hoc sat est tibi--blunt language, but thephrase is Tully's. "

"Well, I waive that. But I am not satisfied that you, an Englishman, haveauthority to act for the Faujdar of Hugli. The crowd I see before me--arabble of lathiwallahs--clearly cannot be the Faujdar's men. "

At this point he heard an exclamation from Bulger. The second body of menhad come up and ranked themselves behind the first. 

"And may I ask, " added Desmond, with a slight gesture to Bulger torestrain himself--he too had recognized the newcomers--"since when theNawab has taken into his service the crew of an interloping Englishmerchantman?"

"I shall give you full information, Mr. Burke, " said Diggle suavely, "when we stand together before my friend the Faujdar. In the meantime youwill, if I may venture to advise, consult your interest best in yieldingto superior numbers and delivering up the goods. "

"And what about myself, Mr. Diggle?"

"You, of course, will accompany me to the Faujdar. He will be incensed, Imake no doubt, at your temerity, and not unjustly; but I will intercedefor you, and you will be treated with the most delicate attentions. "

"You speak fair, Mr. Diggle, " said Desmond, still bent upon gaining time;"but that is your way. What assurance have I that you will, this time, keep your word?"

"You persist in misjudging me, " said Diggle regretfully. "As Cicero saysin the play, you construe things after your fashion, clean from thepurpose of the things themselves. My interest in you is undiminished; nayrather, it is increased and mixed with admiration. My offers still holdgood: join hands with me, and I promise you that you shall soon be apersona grata at the court of Murshidabad, with wealth and honors in yourgrasp. "

"Your offer is tempting, Mr. Diggle, to a poor adventurer like me, and ifonly my own interests were involved, I might strike a bargain with you. Ihave had such excellent reasons to trust you in the past! But the goodsare not mine; they are Mr. Merriman's; and the utmost I can do at presentis to ask you to draw your men off and wait while I send a messenger toCalcutta. When he returns with Mr. Merriman's consent to the delivery ofthe goods, then--"

The sentence remained unfinished. Diggle's expression had been becomingblacker and blacker as Desmond spoke, and seeing with fury that he wasbeing played with he suddenly wheeled round, and, cantering back to hismen, gave the order to fire. At the same moment Desmond called to his mento lie flat on the ground and aim at the enemy from behind the solidwooden wheels of the hackeris. Being on the flat top of the mound, theywere to some extent below the line of fire from the plain, and when thefirst volley was delivered no harm was done to them save for a fewscratches made by flying splinters struck from the carts. 

But the crack of the matchlocks struck terror into the pale hearts ofsome of the hackeriwallahs. Several sprang over the breastwork andscuttled away like scared rabbits. The remainder stood firm, graspingtheir lathis in a manner that showed the fighting instinct to be strong, even in the Bengali. 

Many anxious looks were bent upon Desmond, his men expecting the order tofire. But he bade them remain still, and through the interval between twocarts he watched for the rush that was coming. The crew of the GoodIntent, headed by Sunman, the cross-eyed mate, and Parmiter, had come upbehind the natives. These, having emptied their matchlocks, were nowretiring to reload. Diggle had dismounted, and was talking earnestly withthe mate. They walked together to the edge of the nullah, and looked upand down it, doubtless canvassing the chances of an attack in the rear;but the sides were steep; there was no hope of success in this direction;and they rejoined the main body. 

Evidently they had decided on making a vigorous direct attack over thecarts. Dividing his troop into two portions, Diggle put himself at thehead of the one, Sunman at the head of the other. Arranged in asemicircle concentric with the breastwork, at the word of command all themen with firearms discharged their pieces; then, with shrill cries fromthe natives, and a hoarse cheer from the crew of the Good Intent, theycharged in a close line up the slope. 

Behind the barricade the men's impatience had only been curbed by thequiet imperturbable manner of their young leader. But their selfrestraint was on the point of breaking down when, short, sharp and clear, the long-awaited command was given. Their matchlocks flashed; the volleytold with deadly effect at the short range of thirty paces; four or fivemen dropped; as many more staggered down the slope; the rest haltedindecisively, in doubt whether to push forward or turn tail. 

"Blockheads! cowards!" shouted Diggle in a fury. "Push on, you dogs; weare four to one!"

He was now a very different Diggle from the man Desmond had knownhitherto. His smile was gone; all languor and indolence was lost; hiseyes flashed, his lips met in a hard cruel line; his voice rang outstrong and metallic. That he was no coward Desmond already knew. He puthimself in the forefront of the line, and, as always happens, a braveleader never lacks followers. 

The whole of the seamen and many of the Bengalis surged forward afterhim. Behind the breastwork all the men were now mixed up--musketeers withpikemen and lathiwallahs. Upon these came the swarming enemy, someclambering over the carts, others wriggling between the wheels. There wasa babel of cries; the exultant bellow of the born fighter, British ornative; a few pistol shots; the scream of the men mortally hit; the "Wah!wah!" of the Bengalis applauding their own prowess. 

As Diggle had said, the odds were four to one. But the defenders had theadvantage of position, and for a few moments they held the yelling mob atbay. The half pikes of the boatmen were terrible weapons at closequarters, more formidable than the cutlasses of the seamen balked by thebreastwork, or the loaded bamboo clubs of the lathiwallahs. 

Sunman, the mate, was one of the first victims; he fell to a shot fromBulger. But Parmiter and Diggle, followed by half a dozen of the sailors, and a score of the more determined lathiwallahs and musketeers withclubbed muskets, succeeded in clambering to the top of the carts andprepared to jump down among the defenders, most of whom were busilyengaged in jabbing at the men swarming in between the wheels. Desmond sawthat if his barricade was once broken through the issue of the fight mustbe decided by mere weight of numbers. 

"Bulger, here!" he cried, "and you, Hossain. "

The men sprang to him, and, following his example, leaped on to the cartnext to that occupied by Diggle and Parmiter. Desmond's intention was totake them in flank. Jumping over the bales of silk, he swung over hishead a matchlock he had seized from one of his peons, and brought it downwith a horizontal sweep. Two of the Bengalis among the crowd oflathiwallahs, who were hanging back out of reach of the boatmen's pikes, were swept off the cart. But the violence of his blow disturbed Desmond'sown balance; he fell on one knee; his matchlock was seized and jerked outof his hand; and in a second three men were upon him. Bulger and theserang, although a little late, owing to want of agility in scaling thecart, were close behind. 

"Belay there!" roared Bulger, as he flung himself upon the combatants. 

The bullet head of one sturdy badmash cracked like an eggshell under thebutt of the bold tar's musket; a second received the terrible hook squarein the teeth; and a third, no other than Parmiter himself, was caughtround the neck at the next lunge of the hook, and flung, with a mightyheave, full into the midst of the defenders. Bulger drew a long breath. 

At the same moment Diggle, attacked by the serang, was thrown from hisperch on the hackeri and fell among his followers outside the barricade. There was a moment's lull while both parties recovered their wind. Firinghad ceased; to load a matchlock was a long affair, and though theattackers might have divided and come forward in relays with loadedweapons, they would have run the risk of hitting their own friends. 

It was to be again a hand-to-hand fight. Diggle was not to be denied. Desmond, who had jumped down inside the barricade when the pressure wasrelieved by Bulger, could not but admire the spirit and determination ofhis old enemy, though it boded ill for his own chance of escape. He wasweary; worn out by want of rest and food; almost prostrated by theterrible heat. Looking round his little fort, he felt a tremor as he sawthat five out of his twenty-four men were more or less disabled. True, there were now more than a dozen of the enemy in the same or a worseplight; but they could afford their losses, and Desmond indeed wonderedwhy Diggle did not sacrifice a few men in one fierce overwhelmingonslaught. 

"A hundred rupees to the man who kills the young sahib, two hundred tothe man who takes him alive!" cried Diggle to his dusky followers, asthough in answer to Desmond's thought. 

Then, turning to the discomfited crew of the Good intent, he said: "Sure, my men, you will not be beaten by a boy and a one-armed man. There's afortune for all of you in those carts. At them again, my men; I'll showyou the way. "

He was as good as his word. He snatched a long lathi from one of theBengalis and rushed up the slope to the hackeri nearest the nullah. Finding a purchase for one end of his club in the woodwork of the wagon, he put forth all his strength in the effort to push it over the edge. Owing to the length of the lathi he was out of reach of the half pikes inthe hands of the boatmen, who had to lunge either over or under thecarts. 

His unaided strength would have been unequal to the task of moving thehackeri, heavily laden as it was, resting on soft soil, and interlockedwith the next. But as soon as his followers saw the aim of his movements, and especially when they found that the defenders could not touch himwithout exposing themselves, he gained as many eager helpers as couldbring their lathis to bear upon the two carts. 

Meanwhile the defense at this spot was weak, for the men of the GoodIntent had swarmed up to the adjoining carts and were threatening at anymoment to force a way over the barricade. They were more formidableenemies than the Bengalis. 

Slowly the two hackeris began to move, till the wheels of one hung overthe edge of the nullah. One more united heave, and it rolled over, dragging the other cart with it and splitting itself into a hundredfragments on the rocky bottom. Through the gap thus formed in thebarricade sprang Diggle, with half a dozen men of the Good Intent and ascore of Bengalis. 

Desmond gathered his little band into a knot in the center of theinclosure. Then the brazen sun looked down upon a Homeric struggle. Bulger, brawny warrior of the iron hook, swung his musket like a flail, every now and again shooting forth his more sinister weapon with terribleeffect. Desmond, slim and athletic, dashed in upon the enemy with hishalf pike as they recoiled before Bulger's whirling musket. The rest, nowa bare dozen, Bengalis though they were, presented still an undauntedfront to the swarm that surged into the narrow space. The hot air grewhotter with the fight. 

To avoid being surrounded, the little band instinctively backed towardsthe edge of the nullah. Diggle exulted as they were pressed remorselesslyto the rear. Not a man dreamed of surrender; the temper of the assailantswas indeed so savage that nothing but the annihilation of their victimswould now satisfy them. Yet Diggle once again bethought himself thatDesmond might be worth to him more alive than dead, and in the midst ofthe clamor Desmond heard him repeat his offer of reward to the man whoshould capture him. 

Diggle himself resolved to make the attempt. Venturing too near, hereceived an ugly gash from Desmond's pike, promising a permanent markfrom brow to chin. This was too much for him. Beside himself with fury, he yelled a command to his men to sweep the pigs over the brink, and, oneside of his face livid with rage, the other streaming with blood, hedashed forward at Bulger, who had come up panting to engage him. 

He had well timed his rush, for Bulger's musket was at the far end of itspendulum swing, but the old seaman saw his danger in time. With amovement of extraordinary agility in a man of his bulk, he swung on hisheel, presenting his side to the rapier that flashed in Diggle's hand. Parrying the thrust with his hook, he shortened his stump and lunged atDiggle below the belt. His enemy collapsed as if shot; but his followersswept forward over his prostrate body, and it seemed as if, in one briefhalf minute, the knot of defenders would be hurled to the bottom of thenullah. 

But, at this critical moment, assailants and defenders were stricken intoquietude by a tumultuous cheer, the cheer of Europeans, from thedirection of the gap in the barricade. Weapons remained poised in midair; every man stood motionless, wondering whether the interruption camefrom friend or foe. The question was answered on the instant. 

"Now, men, have at them!"

With a thrill Desmond recognized the voice. It was the voice of SilasToley. There was nothing of melancholy in it, nor in the expression ofthe New Englander as he sprang, cutlass in hand, through the gap. Slow totake fire, when Toley's anger was kindled it blazed with a devouringflame. The crowd of assailants dissolved as if by magic. Before the lastof the crew of the Hormuzzeer, lascars and Europeans, had passed into theinclosure, the men of the Good Intent and their Bengali allies werestreaming over and under the carts toward the open. 

Diggle at the first shock had staggered to his feet and stumbled towardthe barricade. As he reached it, a black boy, springing as it were out ofthe earth, hastened to him and helped him to crawl between the wheels ofa cart and down the slope. On the boy's arm he limped toward his horse, tethered to a tree. A wounded wretch was clumsily attempting to mount. Him Diggle felled; then he crawled painfully into the saddle and gallopedaway, Scipio Africanus leaping up behind. 

By this time his followers were dispersing in all directions--all buteight luckless men who would never more wield cutlass or lathi, and adozen who lay on one side or other of the barricade, too hard hit tomove. 

Chapter 23: In which there are many moving events; and our hero findshimself a cadet of John Company. 

Diggle's escape passed unnoticed until it was too late to pursue him. Atthe sight of Toley and his messmates of the Hormuzzeer, Bulger had letfall his musket and dropped to the ground, where he sat mopping his faceand crying, "Go it, mateys!" Desmond felt a strange faintness, and leaneddizzily against one of the hackeris. But, revived by a draft from Mr. Toley's flask, he thanked the mate warmly, and wanted to hear how he hadcontrived to come up in time. 

When Desmond's messenger arrived in Calcutta, Mr. Merriman was away upthe river, engaged in very serious business. The messenger had applied tothe governor, to members of the Council, to Captain Minchin and otherofficers, and the reply of one and all was the same: they could donothing; it was more important that every man should be employed instrengthening the defenses of Calcutta than in going upcountry on whatmight prove a vain and useless errand. But Toley happened to be in thetown, and learning of the difficulties and perils of his friend Burke, with the captain's consent he had hastily collected the crew of theHormuzzeer, that still lay off the fort, and led them, under the guidanceof the messenger, to support him. Meeting Surendra Nath, and learningfrom him that a fight was imminent, he had pushed on with all speed, theBabu leading the way. 

"It was well done, " said Desmond warmly. "We owe our lives to you, andMr. Merriman his goods. But what was the business that took Mr. Merrimanfrom Calcutta at this time of trouble?"

"Trouble of his own, Burke, " said Mr. Toley. "I guess he'd better havelet the Nawab keep his goods and sent you to look after his womenfolk. "

"What do you mean? I left the ladies at Khulna; what has happened tothem?"

"'Tis what Mr. Merriman would fain know. They've disappeared, gone cleanout of sight. "

"But the peons?"

"Gone, too. Nothing heard or seen of them. "

This serious news came as a shock to Desmond. If he had only known! Howwillingly he would have let Coja Solomon do what he pleased with thegoods, and hastened to the help of the wife and daughter Mr. Merrimanheld so dear! While in Cossimbazar, he had heard from Mr. Watts terriblestories of the Nawab's villainy, which no respect of persons held incheck. He feared that if Mrs. Merriman and Phyllis had indeed fallen intoSirajuddaula's hands, they were lost to their family and friends forever. 

But, eager as he was to get back to Calcutta and join Mr. Merriman insearching for them, he had a strange certainty that it was not to be. Thefaintness that he had already felt returned. His head was burning andthrobbing; his ears buzzed; his limbs ached; his whole frame was seizedat moments with paroxysms of shivering which no effort could control. Unknown to himself the seeds of malarial fever had found a lodgment inhis system. While listening to Toley's story, he had reclined on theground. When he tried to rise, he was overcome by giddiness and nausea. 

"I am done up, " he continued. "Mr. Toley, you must take charge and getthese goods conveyed to Calcutta. Lose no time. "

Surendra Nath recognized the symptoms of the disease, and immediately hada litter improvised for Desmond out of the linen covering of one of thecarts and a couple of muskets. Mr. Toley at once made preparations formoving on with the convoy. The hackeriwallahs who had driven off thecattle had not gone far; they had waited in the hope of getting thebakshish promised them--if not from the young sahib, at least from theleader of the attacking party, which from its numbers they believed wouldgain the day. 

The oxen were soon yoked up. Mr. Toley would not wait to recover theloads of the carts that had toppled into the nullah, nor would he leavemen for that purpose, lest another attack should be made on them fromHugli. He set off as soon as the teams were ready. Half an hour afterthey started, Bulger, walking beside the litter, saw to his dismay thatDesmond had lost consciousness. 

It was nearly a fortnight later when Desmond came to himself in his oldbunk on board the Hormuzzeer. He was alone. Lying on his back, feeblytrying to adjust his thoughts to his surroundings, he heard the faintboom of guns. What was happening? He tried to rise, but all power wasgone from him; he could hardly lift an arm. Even the slight effort wastoo much for him, and he swooned again. 

When he once more recovered consciousness, he saw a figure by his side. It was Mr. Toley. Again the distant thunder of artillery fell upon hisears. 

"What is happening?" he asked feebly. 

"Almighty be praised!" said Toley fervently, "you're coming safe to port. Hush! Lie you still. You'll want nussin' like a babby. Never you heed thepopguns; I'll tell you all about them when you're stronger. Food, sleep, and air; that's my catechism, larned from the surgeon. Bless you, Burke, I feared you was a done man. "

With this Desmond had to be for the time content. But every day he heardfiring, and every day, as he slowly regained strength, he became more andmore anxious to know what it meant. Toley seemed to have left the ship;Desmond was tended only by natives. 

From them he learned that the Nawab was attacking Calcutta. How were thedefenders faring? They could not tell. He knew how small was thegarrison, how weak the fortifications; but, with an English lad'sunconquerable faith in his countrymen's valor, he could not believe thatthey could fail to hold their own. 

One day, however, he heard no more firing. In the afternoon Mr. Toleycame to his bunk, bringing with him Mr. Merriman himself. The merchanthad his head bound up, and wore his left arm in a sling. He was pale, haggard, the shadow of his former self. 

"What has happened, sir?" cried Desmond the instant he saw him. "Are theladies safe?"

"God pity us, Desmond! I shall never see them again. My poor Dora! mysweet Phyllis! They are lost! All is lost! The Nawab has taken the fort. We are beaten, shamed, ruined!"

"How did it happen? I heard the firing. Tell me; it can not be so bad asthat. Sure something can be done!"

"Nothing, nothing; we did all we could. 'Twas little; would that Drakehad heeded our advice! But I am rejoiced to see you on the road torecovery, dear boy; 'twould have been another nail in my coffin to knowthat you had lost your life in doing a service for me. I thank God forthat, from the bottom of my heart. "

He pressed Desmond's hand affectionately. 

"But tell me, sir; I want to know what has happened. How came you to bewounded? Sure I am strong enough to hear now; it will do me no harm. "

"It cuts me to the heart, Desmond, but you shall know. I was absent whenyou were carried to my house--searching for my dear ones. But Dr. Graytended you; alas! the good man is now a prisoner. I returned three daysafter, driven back from up the river by the advance of the Nawab's army. I was worn out, distraught; not a trace had I found of my dear wife; shehad vanished; nor of my daughter; nor even of my peons; all had gone. 

"And there was trouble enough in Calcutta for me and for all. 'Twas thevery day I returned that the news came of Sirajuddaula's approach. And aletter from his chief spy was intercepted, addressed to Omichand, biddinghim escape while there was yet time and join the Subah. That seemed toMr. Drake clear proof that Omichand was in league with our enemies, andhe had him arrested and thrown into the fort prison. But Mr. Drake neveracts till 'tis too late. He gave orders next to arrest Krishna Das. Theman barricaded himself in his house and beat our peons off, tillLieutenant Blagg and thirty Europeans drove in his gates. They found avast quantity of arms collected there. They stormed Omichand's housealso, where three hundred armed domestics made a stout fight against 'em. When our men got in--'tis a horrid story--the head jamadar with his ownhands stabbed all his master's women and children, to prevent em fallinginto our hands, and then set fire to the place. 

"Our men had already been driven out of Tanna fort by Manik Chand, whohad come up with two thousand men and a couple of field pieces. Then cameup Mir Jafar, the Nawab's bakshi {commander in chief}, and began firingfrom the Chitpur gate. We got all our women into the fort; the poorcreatures left all they had but their clothes and their bedding. You mayguess the confusion. The natives were flocking out of the town; most ofour servants fled with them; all our cooks were gone, so that though wehad a great stock of food we were like to starve in the midst of plenty. 

"But we filled their places with some of the Portuguese who came crowdinginto the fort. Two thousand of 'em, men, women, and children, filled thecourtyard, sitting among their bundles of goods, so that we could scarcemove for 'em. The enemy was in the town; they had set light to the GreatBazaar, and were burning and plundering in the native parts. We fired thebastis to the east and south, to deprive 'em of cover; and you mayimagine the scene, Desmond--the blazing sky, the tears and screams of thewomen, the din of guns. We wrote to the French at Chandernagore begging'em to lend us some ammunition, for the most of ours was useless; butthey sent us a genteel reply saying they'd no more than sufficient fortheir own needs; yet the wretches made the Nawab a present of two hundredchests of powder, 'tis said. 

"Next day we were besieged in earnest. The Nawab had, we learned, nighfifty thousand men, with one hundred and fifty elephants and camels, andtwo hundred and fifty Frenchmen working his artillery. Against 'em we hadabout five hundred in all, only half of 'em Europeans. What could so fewdo against so many? Our officers were all brave enough, but they've had aslack time, and few of 'em are fit for the work. Ensign Picard, sure, didwonders, and Lieutenant Smyth defended the north battery with exceedingskill; but we had not men enough to hold our positions, and step by stepwe were driven back. 

"'Twas clear we could not hold out long, and on Friday night we held acouncil of war, and decided to send the women on board the ships in theriver, to get 'em out of harm's way. Then by heaven! Desmond, two of theCouncil shamed 'emselves for ever. Mr. Manningham and Mr. Frankland, special friends of Mr. Drake, attended the ladies to the ship--'twas theDodalay, of which they are owners--and they stayed on board with 'em--thecowards, to set such an infamous example! And well 'twas followed. 'Tisscarce credible, but Captain Minchin, our gallant commander, and Mr. Drake, our noble president, went down to the ghat and had 'emselves rowedoff to the shipping and deserted us: good God! do they deserve the nameof Englishmen? One of our gentlemen standing on the steps was so enragedthat he sent a bullet after the cravens; others did the same, and I wouldto heaven that one of their shots had took effect on the wretches! Wemade Mr. Holwell governor in the Quaker's place; and I tell you, Desmond, had we done so before, there would have been a different story to tellthis day. 

"Mr. Holwell saw 'twas impossible to withstand the Nawab's hordes muchlonger, and spoke for an orderly retreat; but he was overrid by some ofthe military officers; and besides, retreat was cut off, for the shipsthat had lain in the river moved away, and though we hung out signalsfrom the fort asking 'em to come back and take us off, they paid no heed;nay, they stood farther off, leaving us to our fate. What could we do?Mr. Holwell sent to Omichand in his prison and offered to release him ifhe would treat with the Nawab for us. But the Gentoo refused. All hewould do was to write a letter to Manik Chand asking him to intercede forus. Mr. Holwell threw the letter over the wall among the enemy, and byheaven! Desmond, never did I suppose Englishmen would be reduced to sucha point of humiliation. 

"But 'twas of no effect. The enemy came on with the more determination, and brought bamboos to scale the walls. We drove 'em off again, but withfrightful loss; twenty-five of our bravest men were killed outright andsixty wounded. 'Twas there I got my wounds, and 'twould have been allover with me but for that fine fellow Bulger; he turned aside with hishook a slashing blow from a scimitar and gave my assailant his quietus. Bulger fought like a hero, and the very look of him, black with powderand stained with blood, seemed to drive all the fight out of the Moorsthat came his way. 

"All this time the shots of the Nawab's cannon annoyed us, not to muchharm, for they were most villainously served; their fire arrows did usmore mischief, flying into the thick of the crowds of screaming women andchildren. It made my heart sick to think of the poor innocent peoplesuffering through the weakness and incompetence and the guilty neglect ofour Council. The heat and the glare, the want of food, the uproar andcommotion--may I never see or hear the like again!

"Yesterday there was a lull in the fighting about midday. The enemy werestill outside the fort, though they had possession of all the housesaround. They showed a flag of truce, whereupon Mr. Holwell writ a letterasking 'em for terms. But 'twas a trick to deceive us. While we wereresting, waiting the result of the parley, the Moors poured out of theirhiding places and swarmed upon the eastern gate of the fort and thepallisadoes on the southwest. In the interval many of our common men hadfallen asleep; some, alas! were drunk, so that we had no force to resistthe invaders, who scaled the roof of the godowns on the north wall withthe aid of their bamboos and swept over into the fort. 

"Most of us Europeans who were left collected in the veranda in front ofthe barracks--you know, between the great gate and the southeast bastion. Scarce a man of us but was wounded. There we were unmolested, for theenemy, as soon as they burst into our private rooms, made busy with theirspoil; and, as it appeared, the Nawab had given orders that we were to bespared. 

"At five o'clock he came into the fort in a gay litter and held a durbarin our Council room, Mir Jafar salaaming before him and making fulsomecompliments on his great victory. Then the wretch sent for Mr. Holwell. We bade him farewell; sure we thought we should never see him more. Buthe returned to us presently, and told us the Nawab was vastly enraged atthe smallness of the treasure he had found; the stories of the French hadled him to expect untold wealth. Omichand and Krishna Das had been tookout of prison, and treated with great affability, and presented by theNawab with siropas--robes of honor, a precious token of his favor. Butthe Nawab. Mr. Holwell told us, had promised no harm should befall us. Aguard of five hundred gunmen was set over us with matches lighted, andthe sun being now nigh setting, men came with torches, though sure theywere not needed, a great part of the factory being in flames, so thatindeed we feared we should be suffocated. But we were shortly afterwardstold to go into the barracks, nigh the veranda where we stood. 

"Then it was that I, by the mercy of God, was enabled to escape. I was atthe end of the veranda, farthest from the barracks. Just as I was aboutto move off after the rest, one of the guards came in front of me, andwhispered me to hide behind the last of the thick pillars till he camefor me. I recognized the man: 'twas an old peon of mine. Thank God for afaithful servant! More dead than alive I did what he said. For hours Ilay there, fearing I know not what, not daring to stir lest some eyeshould see me, and suffering agonies from my untended wounds. At last theman came to me. 

"'Sahib, ' he said, 'you were good to me. I shall save you. Come, quickly. '

"I got up and stumbled after him. He led me by dark ways out of the fort, past the new godown, across the burying ground, down to Chandpal ghat. There I found Mr. Toley awaiting me with a boat, and 'tis thanks to myold peon and him I now find myself safe. "

"And do you know what became of Bulger?" asked Desmond. 

"He is with the rest, sorely battered, poor man. "

"What will happen to the prisoners? How many are there?"

"There are nigh a hundred and fifty. The Nawab has promised they shallsuffer no harm, and after a night in barracks I suppose he will let 'emgo. We shall drop down the river till we reach the other vessels atSurman's, and then, by heaven! I shall see what I can do to bring Mr. Drake to a sense of his duty, and persuade him to come back and take offthe Europeans. 

"Sure this action of Sirajuddaula's will not go unavenged. We havealready sent letters to Madras, and within two months, I hope, succorwill reach us from thence, and we shall chastise this insolent youngNawab. "

"Do you think he will keep his word?--I mean, to do the prisoners noharm. "

"I think so. He has done no harm to Mr. Watts, whom he brought with himfrom Cossimbazar; and our people will be more valuable to him alive thandead. Yes; by this time tomorrow I trust Mr. Holwell and the others willbe safe on board the ships, and I do not envy Mr. Drake his bitterexperience when the men he has deserted confront him. "

While Mr. Merriman was telling his story, the Hormuzzeer was slowlydrifting down the river. At Surman's garden, about five miles south ofCalcutta, it joined the other vessels belonging to British owners, anddropped anchor. Several gentlemen came on board, eager to learn what hadbeen the last scene in the tragic drama. Mr. Merriman told them all heknew, and every one drew a long breath of relief when they learned thatthough prisoners, Mr. Holwell and the gallant few who had stuck to theirposts had been assured of good treatment. During the day the vesseldropped still lower down the river to Budge Budge, running the gauntletof a brisk but ineffective fire from Tanna Fort, now in the hands of theNawab's troops. 

When the Hormuzzeer lay at anchor at Budge Budge, Mr. Merriman explainedto Desmond the plans he had formed for him. The vessel now had her fullcargo, and would sail immediately for Penang. Mr. Merriman proposed thatDesmond should make the voyage. In his weak state the climate of Fulta, where the Europeans intended to stay until help reached them from Madras, might prove fatal to him; while the sea air would complete his cure. 

His share of the sale price of the Tremukji, together with the Gheriaprize money, amounted to more than a thousand pounds, and this had beeninvested for him by his friend. 

"For myself, " added Merriman, "I shall remain. My wounds are not severe;I am accustomed to the climate; and though India is now odious to me, Ishall not leave Indian soil until I find traces of my dear wife anddaughter. God grant that by the time you return I shall have some news ofthem. "

Desmond would have liked to remain with the merchant, but he knew that inhis weakness he could do him no service, and he acquiesced in thearrangement. 

That same evening the fugitives received news that made their blood runcold. Two Englishmen, Messrs. Cooke and Lushington, who had remainedstaunchly by Mr. Holwell's side, came from the shore in a small boat andboarded the Dodalay. Their appearance struck every one with amazement andhorror. Mr. Cooke was a merchant, aged thirty-one; Mr. Lushington awriter in the Company's service, his age eighteen; but the events of onenight had altered them almost beyond recognition. They said that when theorder had been given to confine them in the barracks, the prisoners hadall expected to pass the night in comparative comfort. What was theiramazement when they were escorted to the Black Hole, a little chamber nomore than eighteen feet square, which was only used as a rule for theconfinement of one or two unruly prisoners. In vain they protested; theirbrutal guards forced them, a hundred and forty-six in number, into thenarrow space, and locked the door upon them. It was one of the hottestnights of the year; there was but one small opening in the wall, andbefore long the want of air and the intense heat drove the poor people tofury. They trampled each other down in their mad attempts to get near theopening for air and the water which one of their jailers, less brutalthan the rest, handed in to them. 

The horror of the scenes that passed in that small room bafflesdescription. Men and women in the agonies of thirst and suffocationfought like tigers. Many prayed their guards to shoot them and end theirsufferings, only to meet with jeers and laughter. Some of the nativeofficers took pity on them and would have opened the door, but none durstmove without the Nawab's permission, or brave his fury if they roused himfrom his sleep. From seven in the evening till six in the morning theagony continued, and when at length the order came for their release, only twenty-three of the hundred and forty-six tottered forth, theghastliest wrecks of human beings. 

Mr. Holwell and three others were then conveyed as prisoners in a bullockcart to Omichand's garden, and thence to Murshidabad; the rest werebidden to go where they pleased. 

The news was kept from Desmond. It was not till weeks after that he heardof the terrible tragedy. Then, with the horror and pity he felt, therewas mingled a fear that Bulger had been among those who perished. Theseaman, he knew, had taken a stout part in the defense of the fort; Mr. Merriman had not mentioned him as being among the prisoners; it waspossible that he had escaped; but the thought that the brave fellow hadperhaps died in that awful hole made Desmond sick at heart. 

Though the season was now at its hottest, the fresh sea air proved awonderful tonic to him, and he rapidly regained his strength. The voyagewas slow. The Hormuzzeer beat down the Bay of Bengal against the monsoonnow beginning, and it was nearly two months before she made Penang. Sheunloaded there: her cargo was sold at great profit, she being the onlyvessel that had for some time left the Hugli; and Desmond found hiscapital increased by nearly a hundred per cent. She then took on a cargofor Madras, where she arrived in the first week of September. 

Desmond took the earliest opportunity of going on shore. The roads werestudded with Admiral Watson's fleet, and he learned that Clive was in thetown preparing an expedition to avenge the wrong suffered by the Englishin Calcutta. He hastened to obtain an interview with the colonel. 

"'Tis no conventional speech when I say I am glad to see you alive andwell, Mr. Burke, " said Clive. "Have you come direct from Calcutta?"

"No, sir. I left there some ten weeks ago for Penang. "

"Then I have later news of my friend Merriman than you. Poor fellow! Heis distraught at the loss of his wife and girl. I have received severalletters from him. He spoke of you; told me of what you had done atCossimbazar. Gad, sir, you did right well in defending his goods; and Ipromise myself if ever I lay hands on that villain Peloti he shall smartfor that piece of rascaldom and many more. Are you still minded to takeservice with me?"

"I should like nothing better, sir, but I doubt whether I can think of ituntil I see Mr. Merriman. "

"Tut, man, that is unnecessary. 'Twas arranged between Mr. Merriman andme in Bombay that he would release you as soon as a vacancy occurred inthe Company's military establishment. There are several such vacanciesnow, and I shall be glad to have a Shropshire man as a lieutenant. I trowyou are not averse to taking a hand in this expedition?"

"No one who knows what happened in Calcutta can be that, sir. "

"That is settled, then. I appoint you a cadet in the Company's service. "

"Thank you indeed, sir, " said Desmond, flushing with pleasure. "I havelonged all my life to serve under you. "

"You may find me a hard taskmaster, " said Clive, setting his lips in thegrim way that so many had cause to fear. 

"When do we start, sir?"

"That I can't say. 'Tis not by my wish we have delayed so long. I willlet you know when I require your services. Meanwhile, make yourselfacquainted with the officers. "

Desmond learned from his new comrades that there was some disagreementamong the Madras Council about the command of the expedition. Clive hadvolunteered to lead it as soon as the news of the fall of Calcuttaarrived; but he was inferior in rank to Colonel Adlercron of theThirty-ninth Regiment, and that officer was a great stickler for militaryetiquette. The Council had some reason for anxiety. They were expectingto hear, from outcoming ships, of the outbreak of war between France andEngland; and as the French were strong in Southern India, it requiredmuch moral courage to weaken the force disposable for the defense ofMadras. 

One day, before the matter of the command had been definitely settled, Desmond received a summons from Clive. He found the great soldier alone. 

"You have heard of the discussions in the Council, Mr. Burke, " beganClive without ceremony. "I tell you this: I and no other will commandthis expedition. In that confidence I have sent for you. What I haveheard of you speaks well for your readiness and resource, and I think youcould be more useful to me in the Hugli than waiting here until ourrespected Council can make up their minds. The men here are notacquainted with Bengal. You are: you know the country from Calcutta toMurshidabad, at all events, and you speak Hindustani with some fluency. You can serve me best by picking up any information you can get regardingthe enemy's movements. You are willing, I take it, to run some risks?"

"I'll do anything you wish, sir. "

"As I expected. Well, you will go at once to Fulta. Not to Mr. Drake:I've no confidence in him and the other old women who are conducting theCompany's affairs in Bengal. Major Killpatrick, an excellent officer, left here in June with a small reinforcement. He is now at Fulta. Youwill join him. I shall ask him to give you a free hand in going andcoming and collecting information. You understand that in a sense you areon secret service. I want you to keep an eye particularly on themovements of the French. 'Tis reported that they are in league withSirajuddaula: find out whether that's the case: and gad, sir, if it is, I'll not be satisfied till I've turned 'em neck and crop out of Bengal. You'll want money: here are five thousand rupees; if you want more, askMajor Killpatrick. Now, when can you start?"

"The Hormuzzeer is sailing in ballast tomorrow, sir. She'll go light, andaboard her I should get to Fulta as quickly as on any other vessel. "

"Very well. I trust you: much depends on your work; go on as you havebegun and I promise you Robert Clive won't forget it. Goodby. 

"By the way, your duties will take you through the parts where Mrs. Merriman disappeared. Your first duty is to me, and through me to yourking and country, remember that. But if you can get any news of themissing ladies, so much the better. Mrs. Merriman is a cousin of mywife's, and I am deeply concerned about her fate. "

Next day the Hormuzzeer sailed, and by the middle of September Desmondhad reached Fulta, and reported himself both to Major Killpatrick and toMr. Merriman there. 

Chapter 24: In which the danger of judging by appearance is notablyexemplified. 

"Sure 'tis a most pleasant engaging young man, " said Mrs. Merriman, asher boat dropped down the river towards Chandernagore. "Don't you thinkso, Phyllis?"

"Why, mamma, it does seem so. But 'tis too soon to make up my mind in tenminutes. "

"Indeed, miss! Let me tell you I made up my mind about your father infive. La, how Merriman will laugh when he hears 'twas Mr. Burke gave himthat scar--

"What is the matter, Munnoo Khan?"

The boat had stopped with a jerk, and the boatmen were looking at oneanother with some anxiety. The serang explained that ill luck had causedthe boat to strike a snag in the river, and she was taking in water. 

"You clumsy man! The Sahib will be angry with you. Make haste, then; rowharder. "

"Mamma, 'tis impossible!" cried Phyllis in alarm. "See, the water iscoming in fast; we shall be swamped in a few minutes!"

"Mercy me. 'Tis as you say! Munnoo Khan, row to the nearest ghat; you seeit there! Sure 'tis a private ghat, belonging to the house of one of theFrench merchants. He will lend us a boat. 'Twill be vastly annoying if wedo not reach home before dark. "

The men just succeeded in reaching the ghat, on the left bank of theriver about a mile below Chandernagore, before the boat sank. When theparty had landed, Mrs. Merriman sent her jamadar up to the house to askfor the loan of a boat, or for shelter while one was being obtained fromChandernagore. 

"Tell the Sahib 'tis the bibi of an English sahib, " she said. "He willnot refuse to do English ladies a service. "

The jamadar shortly returned, followed by a tall dark-featured Europeanin white clothes. He bowed and smiled pleasantly when he came down to theghat, and addressed Mrs. Merriman in French. 

"I am happy to be of service, Madam. Alas! I have no boat at hand, but Ishall send instantly to Chandernagore for one. Meanwhile, if you willhave the goodness to come to my house, my wife will be proud to offer yourefreshments, and we shall do our best to entertain you until the boatarrives. 

"Permit me, Madam. "

He offered his left hand to assist the lady up the steps. 

"I had the mischance to injure my right hand the other day, " heexplained. "It is needful to keep it from the air. "

It was thrust into the pocket of his coat. 

"The Frenchman is vastly polite, " said Mrs. Merriman to her daughter, asthey preceded him up the path to the house. "But there, that is the waywith their nation. "

"Hush, mamma!" said Phyllis, "he may understand English. 

"I do not like his smile, " she added in a whisper. 

"La, my dear, it means nothing; it comes natural to a Frenchman. He looksquite genteel, you must confess; I should not be surprised if he were asomebody in his own land. "

As if in response to the implied question, the man moved to her side, and, in a manner of great deference, said:

"Your jamadar named you to me, Madam; I feel that I ought to explain whoI am. My name is Jacques de Bonnefon--a name, I may say it withoutboasting, once even better known at the court of his Majesty, King Louisthe Fifteenth, than in Chandernagore. Alas, Madam fortune is a ficklejade. Here I am now, in Bengal, slowly retrieving by honest commerce apatrimony of which my lamented father was not too careful. "

"There! What did I say?" whispered Mrs. Merriman to her daughter asMonsieur de Bonnefon went forward to meet them on the threshold of hisveranda. "A noble in misfortune! I only hope his wife is presentable. "

They entered the house and were shown into a room opening on the veranda. 

"You will pardon my leaving you for a few moments, Mesdames, " said theirobliging host. "I shall bring my wife to welcome you, and send toChandernagore for a boat. "

With a bow he left them, closing the door behind him. 

"Madame de Bonnefon was taken by surprise, I suppose, " said Mrs. Merriman, "and is making her toilet. The vanity of these French people, my dear!"

Minutes passed. Evening was coming on apace; little light filteredthrough the chiks. The ladies sat, wondering why their hostess did notappear. 

"Madame takes a long time, my dear, " said Mrs. Merriman. 

"I don't like it, mamma. I wish we hadn't come into the stranger'shouse. "

"Why, my love, what nonsense! The man is not a savage. The French are notat war with us, and if they were, they do not war on women. Something hashappened to delay Monsieur de Bonnefon. "

"I can't help it, mamma; I don't like his looks; I fear something, Idon't know what. Oh, I wish father were here!"

She got up and walked to and fro restlessly. Then, as by a suddenimpulse, she went quickly to the door and turned the handle, She gave alow cry under her breath, and sprang round. 

"Mamma! Mamma!" she cried. "I knew it! The door is locked. "

Mrs. Merriman rose immediately. 

"Nonsense, my dear! He would not dare do such a thing!"

But the door did not yield to her hand, though she pulled and shook itviolently. 

"The insolent villain!" she exclaimed. 

She had plenty of courage, and if her voice shook, it was with anger, notfear. She went to the window opening on the veranda, loosed the bars, andlooked out. 

"We can get out here, " she said. "We will walk instantly toChandernagore, and demand assistance from the governor. "

But the next moment she shrank back into the room. Two armed peons stoodin the veranda, one on each side of the window. Recovering herself, Mrs. Merriman went to the window again. 

"They will not dare to stop us, " she said. 

"Let me pass, you men; I will not be kept here. "

But the natives did not budge from their post. Only, as the angry ladyflung open one of the folding doors, they closed together and barred theway with their pikes. Accustomed to absolute subservience from her ownpeons, Mrs. Merriman saw at once that insistence was useless. If thesemen did not obey instantly they would not obey at all. 

"I cannot fight them, " she said, again turning back. "The wretches! Ifonly your father were here!"

"Or Mr. Burke, " said Phyllis. "Oh, how I wish he had come with us!"

"Wishing is no use, my dear. I vow the Frenchman shall pay dearly forthis insolence. We must make the best of it. "

Meanwhile Monsieur de Bonnefon had gone down to the ghat. But he did notsend a messenger to Chandernagore as he had promised. He told thejamadar, in Urdu, that his mistress and the chota bibi would remain athis house for the night. They feared another accident if they shouldproceed in the darkness. He bade the man bring his party to the house, where they would all find accommodation until the morning. 

In the small hours of that night there was a short sharp scuffle in theservants' quarters. The Merriman boatmen and peons were set upon by ascore of sturdy men who promptly roped them together, and, hauling themdown to the ghat and into a boat, rowed them up to Hugli. There they werethrown into the common prison. 

In the morning a charge of dacoity {gang robbery} was laid against them. The story was that they had been apprehended in the act of breaking intothe house of Monsieur Sinfray. Plenty of witnesses were forthcoming togive evidence against them; such can be purchased outside any cutcherryin India for a few rupees. The men were convicted. Some were given achoice between execution and service in the Nawab's army; others weresentenced offhand to a term of imprisonment, and these consideredthemselves lucky in escaping with their lives. In vain they protestedtheir innocence and pleaded that a messenger might be sent to Calcutta;the Nawab was known to be so much incensed against the English that thefact of their being Company's servants would probably avail them nothing. 

About the same time that the men were being condemned, a two-ox hackeri, such as was used for the conveyance of pardarnishin {literally, sittingbehind screens} women, left the house of Monsieur de Bonnefon and droveinland for some five miles. The curtains were closely drawn, and thepeople who met it on the road wondered from what zenana the ladies thusscreened from the public gaze had come. The team halted at a lonely housesurrounded by a high wall, once the residence of a zamindar, now owned byCoja Solomon of Cossimbazar, and leased to a fellow Armenian ofChandernagore. It had been hired more than once by Monsieur Sinfray, thesecretary to the Council at Chandernagore and a persona grata with theNawab, for al fresco entertainments got up in imitation of the fetes atVersailles. But of late Monsieur Sinfray had had too much importantbusiness on hand to spare time for such delights. He was believed to bewith Sirajuddaula at Murshidabad, and the house had remained untenanted. 

The hackeri pulled up at the gate in the wall. The curtains were drawnaside; a group of peons surrounded the cart to fend off prying eyes; andthe passengers descended--two ladies clad in long white saris {garment inone piece, covering the body from head to foot} and closely veiled. Asleek Bengali had already got out from a palanquin which had accompaniedthe hackeri; in a second palanquin sat Monsieur de Bonnefon, who did nottake the trouble to alight. 

With many salaams the Bengali led the ladies through the gate and acrossthe compound towards the house. They both walked proudly erect, with agait very different from that of the native ladies who time and again hadfollowed the same path. They entered the house; the heavy door was shut;and from behind the screens of the room to which they were led they heardthe hackeri rumbling away. 

Monsieur de Bonnefon, as his palanquin was borne off, soliloquized, ticking off imaginary accounts on the fingers of his left hand; the righthand was partly hidden by a black velvet mitten. His reckoning ransomewhat as follows:

"In account with Edward Merriman:

"Credit--to the hounding out of the Company by his friend Clive: nominal:I made more outside; to scurrilous abuse in public and private: merewords; say fifty rupees; to threat to hang me: mere words again: sayfifty rupees. Total credit, say a hundred rupees. 

"Debit--to ransom for wife and daughter: two lakhs. 

"Balance in my favor, say a hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundredrupees. 

"In a few weeks, Mr. Edward Merriman, I shall trouble you for asettlement. "

Chapter 25: In which our hero embarks on a hazardous mission; and MonsieurSinfray's khansaman makes a confession. 

On arriving at Fulta, Desmond found that the European fugitives fromCalcutta were living for the most part on board the country ships in theriver, while the military were cantoned in huts ashore, on a plaineastward of the town. The avenues leading to their camp were occupied bySepoys. Desmond lost no time in making his way to Major Killpatrick's hutand presenting his credentials. 

"Very glad to make your acquaintance, " said the major heartily. "Oh yes, I know all about you. Mr. Merriman has told me of the way you brought hiscargo through from Cossimbazar, and the plucky stand you made againstodds. By Jove, sir, 'twas an amazing good piece of work. You deserved acommission if any youngster ever did, and I'm glad Mr. Clive has done theright thing. Let me tell you, Mr. Clive don't make mistakes--in militarymatters, that is to say. And Gheria, now: egad, sir, you must have a headon your shoulders; and that en't flattery; we soldiers en't in the habitof laying on the butter. 

"You did well; and sure you'll be of the greatest use to us here. We needa few men as are able to keep their heads in a warm place: and, begad, ifthey'd such men in Bengal these last months we wouldn't be rotting herein this fever-haunted place. Why, I've lost thirty-two officers and menin less than a couple of months, and I'll be lucky if I've fifty fit forservice by the time Mr. Clive arrives. When may we expect him, sir?"

"He couldn't tell me, sir. The Madras Council can't make up their mindswho is to command the expedition, and they're waiting for ships fromhome. "

Major Killpatrick laughed. 

"Why, I know how that will end. With Mr. Stringer Lawrence laid up thereis only one man fit to do this job, and that's Mr. Clive, and the soonerthe gentlemen on their office stools at Madras see that, the better inthe end for everybody. 

"Now you're strong again, eh? Got rid of that touch of fever?"

"Yes, sir; I'm as well as ever. "

"And want to be doing something, I'll be bound. Well, 'twill need somethinking, what you've to do. We're badly served with news. We've gotspies, of course; but I don't set much store by native spies in thiscountry. We've information by the bushel, but when you come to sift itout there's precious little of it you can trust. And the enemy has gotspies, too--hundreds of 'em. I'll bet my boots there's a regular systemof kasids for carrying news of us to Manik Chand and from him to theNawab. If the truth was known, I dare say that rascal knows how manyhairs I have on my bald crown under my wig--if that's any interest tohim. 

"Well, I suppose you'll join Mr. Merriman on board one of the ships. Better chance of escaping the fever there. I'll turn over a thing or twoI have in my mind and send for you when I've done turning. "

On the way back to the shore Desmond met the serang who had accompaniedhim down the river from Cossimbazar. The man explained that after thecapture of Calcutta his brother Hubbo, the Company's syr serang {headboatman}, had been impressed into the service of the Nawab, and hehimself had been sent by Hubbo to Fulta to assist the Council andmerchants of the Company. He had there met Mr. Merriman, whom in commonwith many others he had believed to be dead. Mr. Merriman, having noimmediate need for his services, had willingly permitted him to take hisbrother's place in the employment of the Company. 

Mr. Merriman welcomed Desmond with quite fatherly affection, andcongratulated him heartily on his appointment. The Hormuzzeer beingunlikely, owing to the complete cessation of trade, to make anothervoyage for some months to come, he decided to take up his quarters onboard, and Desmond lived with him as a matter of course. 

Desmond was shocked to see the change wrought on his friend by the lossof his wife and daughter. All his gay spirits had left him; he hadthinned perceptibly, and his eyes had that strained look which only agreat sorrow can cause. 

"I have been thinking it over, Desmond, " he said as they sat in thecabin, "and I can only conclude that this is one more of Peloti'svillainies. Good God! had he not done me and mine harm enough? Who elsewould be so dead to all sense of right, of decency, as to seize upon twohelpless women? My brother was hanged, Desmond; hanging is too good forthat scoundrel; but we cannot touch him; he laughs at us; and I amhelpless--helpless!"

"Like you, sir, I have come to believe that you owe this terrible sorrowto Diggle--I must always call him that. Don't give up heart, sir. Whathis motive is, if he has indeed captured the ladies, I cannot tell. Itmay be to use them as hostages in case he gets into trouble with us; itis impossible to see into the black depths of his mind. But I believe theladies are safe, and, please God, I shall learn something about them andmaybe bring them back to you. "

Desmond waited a couple of days in the hope of receiving a definite taskfrom Major Killpatrick. But that officer, while an excellent soldier, wasnot fertile in expedients. The process of "turning things over in hismind" did not furnish him with an inspiration. 

He came on board the Hormuzzeer one afternoon, and confessed that hedidn't see how Desmond could possibly get up and down the river. Mr. Merriman reminded him that in the early days of the stay at Fulta, Mr. Robert Gregory had gone up with requests to the French and Dutch forassistance. Under cover of a storm he passed Tanna and Calcutta unnoticedby the Nawab's men. 

"The French were very polite, but wouldn't move a finger for us, " addedMr. Merriman. "The Dutch were more neighborly, and sent us someprovisions--badly needed, I assure you. Mr. Gregory is still with them atChinsura. "

"If he got through, why shouldn't I?" asked Desmond. 

"My dear boy, " said Killpatrick, "the river is narrowly watched. TheMoors know that Gregory outwitted them; sure no other Englishman couldrepeat the trick. And if you were caught, there's no saying how ManikChand might serve you. He seems disposed to be friendly, to be sure: he'smade governor of Calcutta now, and wants to feel his feet. But he's aweak man, by all accounts; and weak men, when they are afraid, are alwayscruel. If he caught an Englishman spying out the land he'd most probablytreat him after oriental methods. 

"In fact, the situation between him and us is such, " concluded the majorwith a laugh, "that he'd be quite justified in stringing you up. "

Major Killpatrick left without offering any suggestion. When he had goneDesmond spent an hour or two in "turning things over in his mind. " Hefelt that the major was well disposed and would probably jump at anyreasonable scheme that was put before him. 

After a period of quiet reflection he sought out Hossain, the serang, andhad a long talk with him. At the conclusion of the interview he went tosee Mr. Merriman. He explained that Hossain wished to return to theservice of a former employer, a native grain merchant in Calcutta, whodid a large trade along the Hugli from the Sandarbands to Murshidabad. The consent of the Council was required, and Desmond wished Mr. Merrimanto arrange the matter without giving any explanation. 

The merchant was naturally anxious to know why Desmond interested himselfin the man, and what he learned drew from him an instant promise toobtain the Council's consent without delay. Then Desmond made his way toMajor Killpatrick's hut, and remained closeted with that genial officertill a late hour. 

Six weeks later a heavily-laden petala, with a dinghy trailing behind, was dropping down the river above Hugli. Its crew numbered four. One wasHossain, the serang, who had left Fulta with Desmond on the day after hisinterview with Major Killpatrick. Two were dark-skinned boatmen, Bengalissomewhat stupid in appearance. The fourth, who was steering, was ratherlighter in hue, as well as more alert and energetic in mien: a lascar, asHossain explained in answer to inquiries along the river. He had latelybeen employed on one of the Company's vessels, but it had been sunk inthe Hugli during the siege of Calcutta. He was a handy man in a boat, andvery glad to earn a few pice in this time of stagnant trade. Things werenot looking bright for boatmen on the Hugli; as only a few vessels hadleft the river from Chandernagore and Chinsura since the troubles beganthere was little or no opening for men of the shipwrecked crew. 

The petala made fast for the night near the bank, at a spot a littlebelow Hugli, between that place and Chinsura. When the two Bengalis hadeaten their evening rice, Hossain told them that they might, if theypleased, take the dinghy and attend a tamasha {entertainment} that wasbeing held in Chinsura that night in honor of the wedding of one of theDutch Company's principal gumashtas. The Bengalis, always ready for anentertainment of this kind, slipped overboard and were soon rowing downto Chinsura. Their orders were to be back immediately after the secondwatch of the night. Only the lascar and Hossain were left in the boat. 

Ten minutes after the men had disappeared from view, the serang lit asmall oil lamp in the tiny cabin. He then made his way to the helm, whispered a word in the lascar's ear, and took his place. The latternodded and went into the cabin. Drawing the curtains, he squatted on amattress, took from a hiding place in the cabin a few sheets of paper anda pencil, and, resting the paper on the back of a tray, began to write. 

As he did so he frequently consulted a scrap of paper he kept at his lefthand; it was closely covered with letters and figures, these latter notHindustani characters, but the Arabic figures employed by Europeans. 

The first line of what he wrote himself ran thus:

29 19 28 19 36 38 32 20 21 39 23 34 19 29 29 35 32 38 24 38 23 32{constructed from the cipher actually used by Mr. Watts at Murshidabad}. 

The letter or message upon which he was engaged was not a lengthy one, but it took a long time to compose. When it was finished the lascar wentover it line by line, comparing it with the paper at his left hand. Thenhe folded it very small, sealed it with a wafer, and, returning to theserang, said a few words. Whereupon Hossain made a trumpet of his hands, and, looking toward the left bank, sounded a few notes in imitation of abird's warble. The shore was fringed here with low bushes. As if inanswer to the call a small boat darted out from the shelter of a bush; afew strokes brought it alongside of the petala; and the serang, bendingover, handed the folded paper to the boatman, and whispered a few wordsin his ear. The man pushed off, and the lascar watched the boat floatsilently down the stream until it was lost to sight. 

Dawn was hardly breaking when Major Killpatrick, awakened by his servant, received from his hands a folded paper which by the aid of a candle hebegan to pore over, laboriously comparing it with a small code similar tothat used by the lascar. One by one he penciled on a scrap of papercertain letters, every now and then whistling between his teeth as hespelt out the words they made. The result appeared thus:

Magazines for ammunition and stores of grain being prepared Tribeni andHugli. Bazaar rumor Nawab about to march with army to Calcutta. Ordersissued Hugli traffic to be strictly watched. Dutch phataks {gate orbarrier} closed. Forth unable leave Chinsura. Tanna Fort 9 guns; oppositeTanna 6 guns; Holwell's garden 5 guns; 4 each Surman's and Ganj; 2 eachMr. Watts' house, Seth's ghat, Maryas ghat, carpenter's yard. 

"Egad!" he exclaimed, on a second reading of the message, "the boy's aconjurer. This is important enough to send to Mr. Clive at once. But I'llmake a copy of it first in case of accident. "

Having made his copy and sealed the original and his first transcription, he summoned his servant and bade him send for the kasid. To him heintrusted the papers, directing him to convey them without loss of timeto Clive Sahib, whom he might expect to find at Kalpi. 

It was December thirteenth. Two months before, the fleet containingColonel Clive and the troops destined for the Bengal expedition hadsailed from Madras. The force consisted of two hundred and seventy-sixking's troops, six hundred and seventy-six of the Company's, about athousand Sepoys, and two hundred and sixty lascars. They were embarked onfive of the king's ships, with Admiral Watson in the Kent, and as manyCompany's vessels. 

Baffling winds, various mishaps, and the calms usual at this time of theyear had protracted the voyage, so seriously that the men had to be puton a two-thirds allowance of rations. Many of the European soldiers weredown with scurvy, many of the Sepoys actually died of starvation, havingconsumed all their rice, and refusing to touch the meat provided for theBritish soldiers, for fear of losing caste. When the admiral at lengtharrived at Fulta, he had only six of the ten ships with which he started, two that had parted company arriving some ten days later, and two beingforced to put back to Madras, under stress of weather. 

While the Kent lay at Kalpi Clive received the message sent him by MajorKillpatrick, and was visited by Mr. Drake and other members of theCouncil, from whom he heard of the sickness among the troops. On arrivingat Fulta he at once went on shore and visited the major. 

"Sorry to hear of your sad case, Mr. Killpatrick, " he said. "We're verylittle better off. But we must make the best of it. I got your note. 'Twas an excellent greeting. Young Burke is a capital fellow; I have notmistook his capacity. "

"Faith, 'twas what I told him, sir. I said Colonel Clive never mistookhis men. "

"Well, if that's true, what you said won't make him vain. Thisinformation is valuable: you see that. Have you heard anything more fromthe lad?"

"Nothing, sir. "

"And you can't communicate with him?"

"No, 'twas a part of his scheme never to let me know his whereabouts, incase the messages miscarried. "

"So; 'twas his scheme, not yours?"

"Egad, sir, I've no head for that sort of thing, " said Killpatrick with alaugh. "Give me a company, and a wall to scale or a regiment to charge, and--"

"My dear fellow, " interrupted Clive, "we all know the king has no betterofficer. Credit where credit is due, major, and you're not the man togrudge this youngster his full credit for an uncommonly daring and cleverscheme. Did you see him in his disguise?"

"I did, sir, and at a distance he took in both Mr. Merriman and myself. "

"Well, he's a boy to keep an eye on, and I only hope that tigers ordacoits or the Nawab's Moors won't get hold of him; he's the kind of ladwe can't spare. Now, let me know the state of your troops. "

When he had sent off his note to Major Killpatrick, Desmond enjoyed ashort spell on deck preparatory to turning in. Hossain was placidlysmoking his hubblebubble; from the far bank of the Hugli came the mingledsounds of tom toms and other instruments; near the boat all was quiet, the wavelets of the stream lapping idly against the sides, the stillnessbroken only by the occasional howl of a jackal prowling near the bank inquest of the corpses of pious Hindus consigned to the sacred waters ofthe Ganges. 

Desmond was half dozing when he was startled into wakefulness by a suddenclamor from the native town. He heard shots, loud cries, the hideousblare of the Bengal trumpets. For half an hour the shouts continuedintermittently; then they gradually died away. 

Wondering whether the tamasha had ended in a tumult, Desmond was about toseek his couch, when, just beneath him, as it seemed, he heard a voice--afeeble cry for help. He sprang up and looked over the side. Soon a darkhead appeared on the water. With a cry to the serang to cast loose androw after him, Desmond took a header into the stream, and with a fewstrokes gained the drowning man's side. 

He was clearly exhausted. Supporting him with one arm, Desmond struck outwith the other, and being a strong swimmer he reached the stern of theboat even before the serang had slipped his moorings. With Hossain's aidhe lifted the man into the boat, and carried him to the cabin. He was allbut unconscious. 

A mouthful of arrack {fermented liquor made from rice or the juice of thepalm} from the serang's jar revived him. No sooner was he in command ofhis breath than he implored his rescuers for their help and protection. He had escaped, he said, from Hugli Fort, not without a gunshot woundbehind his shoulder. He spoke in Bengali. Seeing that he was too muchexhausted and agitated to tell his story that night, Desmond bade theserang assure him of his safety. Then they made shift to tend his wound, and, comforting him with food and drink, left him to sleep and recover. 

The two Bengalis who had been to Chinsura returned before they wereexpected. They had been alarmed by the uproar. As soon as they wereaboard Desmond decided to drop a mile or two farther down the river. Theboat coming to a ghat below Chandernagore, the serang ordered the men topull in, and tied up for the night. 

In the morning the Bengalis were despatched on some errand along thebank, and the coast being clear Desmond went with the serang to thewounded man to learn particulars of the escape. The Bengali had nowalmost wholly recovered, and was very voluble in his gratitude for hisrescue. Happening to glance towards the bank, he suddenly uttered anexclamation of fear, and begged the serang with frantic waving of thehands to leave the spot at once. 

"Why, O brother, this fear?" asked Hossain. 

"I will tell you. It is a great fear. Just before the coming of the rainsI was at Khulna. There I was hired by the head serang of a lady travelingto Calcutta. She was the wife of a burra sahib of the great Company, andwith her was her daughter. All went well until we came nearChandernagore; we struck a snag; the boat sprang a leak; we feared thebibis would be drowned. We rowed to this very ghat; a sahib welcomed theladies; they went into his house yonder. Presently he sent for us; welodged with his servants; but in the night we were set upon, bound, andcarried to Hugli. False witnesses accused us of being dacoits; we werecondemned; and I was confined with others in the prison. 

"Always since then have I looked for a chance of escape. It came at last. Some of the jailers went last night to the tamasha at Chinsura. I stoleout and got away. A sentry fired upon me, and hit me; but I am a goodswimmer and I plunged into the river. You know all that happened then, Oserang, and I beseech you leave this place; it is a dreadful place; someharm will come to us all. "

Desmond's knowledge of Bengali was as yet slight, and he caught onlyportions of the man's narrative. But he understood enough to convince himthat he was at last on the track of the missing ladies; and when, shortlyafterwards, Hossain gave him in Urdu the whole of the story, hedetermined at once to act on the information. 

On the return of the two Bengalis, he arranged with the serang to setthem at work on some imaginary repairs to the boat: that pretext fordelay was as good as another. Then, Hossain having reassured thefugitive, he himself landed and made his way up to the house. 

It was closed. There was no sign of its being inhabited. But about ahundred yards from the gate Desmond saw a basti {block of native huts}, and from one of the huts smoke was issuing. He sauntered up. Before thedoor, lolling in unstudied dishabille, squatted a bearded, turbanedMohammedan, whom from his rotundity Desmond guessed to be the khansamanof the big house. 

"Salaam aleikam {peace be with you!}, khansaman!" said Desmond suavely. "Pardon the curiosity of an ignorant sailor from Gujarat. What nawab ownsthe great house yonder?"

The khansaman, beaming in acknowledgment of the implied compliment to hisown importance, replied:

"To Sinfray Sahib, worthy khalasi. "

"The great Sinfray Sahib of Chandernagore? Surely that is a strangething!"

"Strange! What is strange? That Sinfray Sahib should own so fine a house?You should see his other house in Chandernagore: then indeed you mightlift your eyes in wonder. "

"Nay, indeed, I marveled not at that, for Sinfray Sahib is indeed a greatman. We who dwell upon the kala pani know well his name. Is it not knownin the bazaars in Pondicheri and Surat? But I marvel at this, khansaman:that on one day, this day of my speaking to you, I should meet thesahib's most trusty servant, as I doubt not you are, and also the man whohas sworn revenge upon the owner of this house--ay, and on all thehousehold. "

"Bismillah! {'in the name of Allah!'--a common exclamation}" exclaimedthe khansaman, spitting out his betel. He was thoroughly interested, butas yet unconcerned. "What do you mean, khalasi?"

"I parted but now, on the river, from a fellow boatman who of late haslain in prison at Hugli, put there, they say, by order of Sinfray Sahib. He is not a dacoit; no man less so; but false witnesses rose up againsthim. And, I bethink me, he said that the sahib's khansaman was one ofthese men with lying lips. 

"Surely he was in error; for your face, O khansaman, is open as the sun, your lips are fragrant with the very attar of truth. But he is filledwith rage and fury; in his madness he will not tarry to inquire. If heshould meet you--well, it is the will of Allah: no man can escape hisfate. "

The khansaman, as Desmond spoke, looked more and more distressed; and atthe last words his face was livid. 

"It is not true, " he said. "But I know the blind fury of revenge. Do thouentreat him for me. I will pay thee well. I have saved a few pice {coin, value one-eighth of a penny}. It will be worth five rupees to thee; andto make amends to the madman, I will give him fifty rupees, even if itstrips me of all I have. Allah knows it was not my doing; it was forcedupon me. "

"How could that be, khansaman?" said Desmond, letting pass the man'scontradictory statements. 

"It is not necessary to explain; my word is my word. "

"No doubt; but so enraged is the khalasi I speak of that unless I canexplain to him fully he will not heed me. Never shall I dissuade him fromhis purpose. "

"It is the will of Allah!" said the khansaman resignedly. "I will tellyou. It was not Sinfray Sahib at all. He was at the Nawab's court atMurshidabad. He had lent his house to a friend while he was absent. Thefriend had a spite against Merriman Sahib, the merchant at Calcutta; andwhen the bibi and the chota bibi came down the river he seized them. Sinfray Sahib believes there was an attack by dacoits; but the bibi'speons were carried away by the sahib's friend: it was he that brought theevidence against them. The Angrezi Sahib induced me to swear falsely byavouching that Sinfray Sahib was also an enemy of Merriman Sahib; butwhen the judge had said his word the sahib bade me keep silence with mymaster, for he was ignorant of it all. The Angrezi Sahib is a terribleman: what could I do? I was afraid to speak. "

"And what was the name of the Angrezi Sahib?"

"His name?--It was Higli--no, Digli Sahib--accursed be the day I firstsaw him. "

Desmond drew a long breath. 

"And what became of the bibi and the chota bibi?"

"They were taken away. "

"Whither?"

"I do not know. "

The answer was glib; Desmond thought a little too glib. 

"Why then, khansaman, " he said, "I fear it would be vain for me to reasonwith the man I spoke of. He has eaten the salt of Merriman Sahib; hislord's injury is his also. But you acted for the best. Allah hafiz! thatwill be a morsel of comfort even if this man's knife should find its waybetween your ribs. Not every dying man has such consolation. Live inpeace, good khansaman. "

Desmond, who had been squatting in the oriental manner--an accomplishmenthe had learned with some pains at Gheria--rose to leave. The khansaman'sflorid cheeks again put on a sickly hue, and when the seeming lascar hadgone a few paces he called him back. 

"Ahi, excellent khalasi. I think--I remember--I am almost sure I candiscover where the two bibis are concealed. "

"Inshallah! {'please God!'--a common exclamation} That is indeedfortunate, " said Desmond, turning back. "There lies the best chance ofaverting the wrath of this much-wronged man. "

"Wait but a little till I have clad myself duly; I will then go to afriend yonder and inquire. "

He went into his hut and soon returned clothed in the garments thatbefitted his position. Walking to a hut at the end of the block, he madepretense, Desmond suspected, of inquiring. He was soon back. 

"Allah is good!" he said. "The khitmatgar yonder tells me they were takento a house three coss {the coss is nearly two miles} distant, belongingto the great faujdar Manik Chand. It is rented from him by Digli Sahib, who is a great friend of his Excellency. "

"Well, khansaman, you will show me the way to the house. "

But the khansaman appeared to have donned, with his clothes, a sense ofhis own importance. The authoritative tone of the lascar offended hisdignity. 

"Who are you, scum of the sea, that you tell a khansaman of Bengal whathe shall do? Hold your tongue, piece of seaweed, or by the beard of theProphet--"

The threat was never completed, for Desmond, stepping up close to theman, caught him by the back of the neck and shook him till his teethrattled in his head. 

"Quick! Lead the way! Foolish khansaman, do you want your fat body shakento a jelly? That is the way with us khalasis from Gujarat. Quick, I say!"

"Hold, khalasi!" panted the khansaman; "I will do what you wish. Believeme, you are the first khalasi from Gujarat I have seen--"

"Or you would not have delayed so long. Quick, man!"

With a downcast air the man set off. The sun was getting high; being fatand soft, the khansaman was soon in distress. But Desmond allowed him norespite. In about two hours they arrived at the house he had mentioned. The gate was ajar; the door broken open. Hastily entering, Desmond knewinstinctively by the appearance of the place that it was deserted. 

He went through the house from bottom to top. Not a living person was tobe seen. But in one of the rooms his quick eye caught sight of a smallhairpin such as only a European woman would use. He picked it up. Inanother room a cooking pot had been left, and it was evident that it hadbut lately been used. The simple furniture was in some disorder. 

The khansaman had with much labor managed to mount the stairs. 

"Allah is Allah!" he said. "They are gone!"

Chapter 26: In which presence of mind is shown to be next bestto absence of body. 

The khansaman's surprise was clearly genuine, and Desmond refrained fromvisiting on him his disappointment. Bitter as that was, his alarm wasstill more keen. What had become of the ladies! With all his oldimpulsiveness he had come to rescue them, never pausing to think of whatrisks he himself might run. And now they were gone! Could Diggle havesuspected that his carefully-hidden tracks were being followed up, andhave removed the prisoners to some spot remoter from the river? It wasidle to speculate; they were gone; and there was no obvious clue to theirwhereabouts. 

The khansaman, limp and damp after his unwonted exercise, had squatted onthe floor and was fanning himself, groaning deeply. Desmond went to thewindow of the room and looked out over the country; wondering, longing, fearing. As he gazed disconsolately before him, he caught sight of aparty of horsemen rapidly approaching. Bidding the khansaman stifle hisgroans, he watched them eagerly through the chiks of the window. Soon adozen native horsemen cantered up to the front gate and drew rein. 

One of them, clad in turban of gold tissue, short blue jacket lavishlydecorated with gold, and crimson trousers, bade the rest dismount. He wasa tall man, a handsome figure in his fine array. He wore a sword withhilt inlaid with gold, the scabbard covered with crimson velvet; and inhis girdle was stuck a knife with agate handle, and a small Moorishdagger ornamented with gold and silver. 

He stood for a time gazing as in perplexity at the broken gateway. Hisface was concealed by his turban from Desmond, looking from above. Butwhen he directed his glance upward, Desmond, peering through the chiks, could scarcely believe his eyes. The features were those of MarmadukeDiggle. His heart thumped against his ribs. Never, perhaps, in the wholecourse of his adventures, had he been in such deadly peril. Theappearance of the party had been so sudden, and he had been so deeplyengrossed with his musings, that he had not had time to think of his ownsituation. 

"Come, son of a pig, " said Diggle at length, throwing himself from hishorse and beckoning to his syce, "we will search the place. There must besomething to show who the dacoits were. "

He strode into the compound, followed by his trembling servant. 

"Indeed, huzur, " said the man in shrill tones of excuse, "we did ourbest. But they were many: our livers were as water. "

"Chup {shut up}, pig! Wait till you are spoken to, " exclaimed Diggle, turning angrily upon him. 

"Achha, sahib! bahut achha, sahib {good, sahib--very good, sahib}!"

A vicious kick cut short his protestations, and the two passed out ofhearing of the two watchers above, the khansaman having brought hisquivering flabbiness to Desmond's side. Diggle passed into the entrancehall, the native horsemen waiting like statues at the gate. 

"It is the sahib!" whispered the shaking khansaman to Desmond: "DigliSahib. He will kill me. He is a tiger. "

"Silence, fool!" said Desmond sternly: "there must be a way out. 

"Jeldi jao {go quickly}! we shall be too late. "

The man seemed glued to the spot with fear. The footsteps of Diggle couldbe heard in the rooms below. In a few minutes he would reach the upperstory; then it would indeed be too late to flee. If they could gain theback staircase they might slip down and hide in the garden. But frightappeared to have bereft the khansaman of all power of movement. 

Yet Desmond, for more than one reason, was unwilling to leave him. Heknew what Diggle's tender mercies were; but he also knew that thekhansaman, if discovered, would certainly try to purchase his safety bybetraying his companion. So, without more ado, seizing him by the neck, Desmond shook him vigorously. 

"Come!" he said in a fierce whisper, "or I shall leave you to face thesahib alone. "

This summary treatment shocked the man from his stupor. Stepping ontiptoe he darted across the room, through the door communicating with aroom beyond, into a narrow passageway at the rear of the house. Here wasa second staircase leading downwards to the servants' quarters. 

"Wait there, " said Desmond when they were halfway down. "If you hear anyone coming up, rejoin me above. "

He himself crept noiselessly back to the upper floor. No sooner had hereached the top than he heard Diggle moving in the room he had recentlyleft. He darted to a khashkas {a fragrant plant whose roots are used formaking screens} curtain, through the meshes of which he could see intothe two intercommunicating rooms. Diggle was carefully searching theapartment; he clearly knew it was the one lately occupied by the ladies. 

As he stooped to pick up a cushion that lay on the floor beside a divan, his eye was caught by a scrap of crumpled paper. He snatched at it like ahawk and with quick fingers straightened it out--the fingers of themittened hand that Desmond knew so well. On the paper was writing; thecharacters were English, but Diggle appeared to have some difficulty inmaking them out. 

"'Your servant Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti, '" he said slowly, aloud. 

"Who is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti?" he asked his man, standing behind. 

"Truly, huzur, I know not. It is a common name in Bengal--a vile Hindu;an unbeliever--"

"How did this paper come here?" cried Diggle impatiently. 

"How should I know, sahib? I am a poor man, an ignorant man; I do notread--"

"Come with me and search the back of the house, " said Diggle, turningaway with an oath. 

Desmond stepped noiselessly across the floor and joined the khansaman. They made their way out stealthily down the stairs, through the garden atthe back, into a mango grove. There they remained hidden until Diggle, finding his search fruitless, remounted with his men and galloped away. 

Desmond felt in a maze of bewilderment. It was clear that Diggle wasignorant of the whereabouts of the ladies; where had they been spiritedto, and by whom? Apparently there had been an attack on the house, andthey had been carried away: was it by friends or foes? What was themeaning of the paper found by Diggle? Had the Babu had any hand in thelatest disappearance, or was it his letter that had put someone else ontheir track? Desmond had heard nothing of Surendra Nath or his fathersince the sack of Calcutta. 

There was no clue to the solution of the problem. Meanwhile it wasnecessary to get back to Calcutta. The journey had been delayed too longalready, and Hossain's employer, the grain merchant, would have goodreason for complaint if he felt that his business was being neglected. 

"We must go, khansaman, " said Desmond in sudden determination. 

The man was nothing loath. They returned by the way they had come. Desmond left the man some distance short of Sinfray's house, promising, in return for his assistance, to use his best offices with the iratemanjhi {steersman} on his behalf. Then he struck off for the point lowerdown the river where his boat was moored. As soon as he arrived they gotunder way, and late that evening reached Tanna Fort, where they had todeliver their cargo of rice for the use of the Nawab's garrison. 

In the dead of night they were surprised by a visit from Hubbo, theserang's brother. He had seen them as they passed from one of the sloopsthat lay in the river opposite the fort. Though chief in command of theNawab's vessels at that point, he was still secretly loyal to theCompany, and was anxious to serve their interests to the best of hispower. 

He had now brought important news. The three sloops and two brigantinesthat lay off the fort were, he said, filled with earth. On the approachof Admiral Watson's fleet they were to be scuttled and sunk in thefairway. A subahdar {equivalent to colonel of infantry} of Manik Chand'sforce was at present on board one of the sloops, to superintend the workof scuttling. The signal would be given by the subahdar himself from hissloop. 

"Very well, Hubbo, " said Desmond, "that signal must not be given. "

"But how prevent it, sahib? I wish well to the Company; have I not eatentheir salt? But what can one man do against many? The subahdar is a veryfierce man; very zabburdasti {masterful}. When he gives the word it willbe death to disobey. "

Desmond sat for some time with his chin in his hands, thinking. Then heasked:

"Do you know where the British fleet is at present?"

"Yes, sahib. I was in the bazaar today; it was said that this morning theships were still at Fulta. The sepoys are recovering from the privationsof the voyage. "

"We shall drop down the river tomorrow as soon as we have unloaded ourcargo. You may expect us back ahead of the fleet, so keep a good lookoutfor us. I shall take care that Mr. Drake is informed of your fidelity, and you will certainly be well rewarded. "

Early in the morning the cargo was unloaded; then, under pretense oftaking in goods at Mayapur, the petala dropped down the river and gainedFulta under cover of night. 

Next morning Desmond, having resumed his ordinary attire, sought aninterview with Clive. 

"The very man I wished to see, " said Clive, shaking hands. "Your scoutingis the one ray of light in the darkness that covers the enemy'sarrangements. You have done remarkably well, and I take it you would notbe here unless you had something to tell me. "

Desmond gave briefly the information he had learned from Hubbo. 

"That's the game, is it?" said Clive. "A pretty scheme, egad! 'Twill befatal to us if carried out. 'Twould put a spoke in the admiral's wheeland throw all the work on the land force. That's weak enough, what withMr. Killpatrick's men dying off every day--he has only thirty left--andmy own Sepoys mostly skeletons. And we haven't proved ourselves againstthe Nawab's troops; I suppose they outnumber us thirty to one, and aftertheir success at Calcutta they'll be very cock-a-hoop. Yet 'tis so easyto sink a few ships, especially if preparations have been made long inadvance, as appears to be the case. "

"I think, sir, it might be prevented. "

Clive, who had been pacing up and down in some perturbation of mind, hishead bent, his hands clasped behind him, halted, looked up sharply, andsaid:

"Indeed! How?"

"If we could get hold of the subahdar. "

"By bribing him? He might not be open to bribery. Most of these nativeofficials are, but there are some honest men among them, and he may beone. He wouldn't have been selected for his job unless Manik Chandthought him trustworthy. Besides, how are we going to get intocommunication with him? And even if we did, and filled him to the brimwith rupees, how are we to know he wouldn't sell us in turn to theenemy?"

"But there are other ways, sir. We can depend on Hubbo, and if I mightsuggest, it would pay to promise him a rich reward if he managed to keepthe passage clear. "

"Yes, I agree. What reward would be most effective?"

"A few hundred rupees and the post of syr serang in the Company's servicewhen Calcutta is retaken. "

"Not too extravagant! Well, I shall see Mr. Drake; the offer had bettercome from him and reach Hubbo through his brother. "

"And then, sir, it ought not to be impossible to secure the subahdarhimself when the moment arrives. "

Clive looked at the bright eager countenance of the boy before him. 

"Upon my word, my lad, " he said, "I believe you can do it. How, I don'tknow; but you have shown so much resource already that you may be able tohelp us in this fix--for fix it is, and a bad one. 'Tis the will thatcounts; if one is only determined enough no difficulty is insuperable--alesson that our friends from Calcutta might take to heart. But have you aplan?"

"Not at present, sir. I should like to think it over; and if I can hit onanything that seems feasible I should be glad of your leave to try. "

"By all means, my lad. If you fail--well, no one will be more sorry thanI, for your sake. If you succeed, you will find that I shall not forget. 

"There's one thing I want to ask you before you go. Have you heardanything of my friend Merriman's ladies?"

"Yes, sir; and, as I suspected, Diggle is at the bottom of theirdisappearance. "

He related the series of incidents up the river. 

"Dressed like a native, was he? And looked like a risaldar {officercommanding a troop of horse}? There's no end to that fellow's villainy. But his day of reckoning will come; I am sure of it, and the world willbe none the worse for the loss of so vile a creature. If you take myadvice you'll say nothing to Mr. Merriman of this discovery. 'Twould onlyunsettle the poor man. He had better know nothing until we can eitherrestore the ladies to him or tell him that there is no hope. "

"I don't give up hope, sir. They're alive, at any rate; and Diggle haslost them. I feel sure we shall find them. "

"God grant it, my lad. "

Chapter 27: In which an officer of the Nawab disappears; and Bulgerreappears. 

"This will be my last trip, sahib, for my present master. He says I wastetoo much time on the river. He also complains that I go to places withoutleave and without reason. He heard we were at Mayapur, and wanted to knowwhy. I made excuses, sahib; I said whatever came into my head; but he wasnot satisfied, and I leave his service in a week. "

"That is a pity, Hossain. Unless we are in the service of some well-knownbanya we cannot go up and down the river without exciting suspicion. However, let us hope that before the week is out the fleet will be here. "

Desmond looked a little anxious. The success of his project forpreventing the fouling of the passage at Tanna Fort was more than everdoubtful. The petala was moored opposite the Crane ghat at Calcutta, taking in a cargo of jawar {millet} for Chandernagore. The work ofloading had been protracted to the utmost by the serang; for Desmond didnot wish to leave the neighborhood of Calcutta at the present juncture, when everything turned upon their being on the spot at the criticalmoment. 

While they were talking, a man who had every appearance of a respectablebanya approached the plank over which the coolies were carrying the jaweron board. He stood idly watching the work, then moved away, and squattedon a low pile of bags which had been emptied of their contents. For atime the serang paid no apparent heed to him; but presently, while thecoolies were still busy, he sauntered across the plank and strolling tothe onlooker exchanged a salaam and squatted beside him. Passers by mighthave caught a word or two about the grain market; the high prices; thedifficulties of transit; the deplorable slackness of trade; the infamousduplicity of the Greek merchants. At last the banya rose, salaamed, andwalked away. 

As he did so the serang carelessly lifted the bag upon which the banyahad been sitting, and, making sure that he was not observed, picked up atiny ball of paper scarcely bigger than a pea. Waiting a few moments, herose and sauntered back on board. A minute or two later the lascar in theafter part of the boat was unobtrusively examining the scrap of paper. Itcontained three words and an initial:

Tomorrow about ten. --C. 

A change had been made in the composition of Hossain's crew since theincident at Sinfray's house. One day Desmond had found one of theBengalis rummaging in the corner of the cabin where he was accustomed tokeep his few personal belongings. Hossain had dismissed the man on thespot. The man saved from the river had been kept on the boat and proved agood worker, eager, and willing to be of use. He was an excellentboatman, a handy man generally, and, for a Bengali, possessed ofexceptional physical strength. At Desmond's suggestion Hossain offeredhim the vacant place, and he at once accepted it. 

Since his rescue he had shown much gratitude to Desmond. He was quickwitted, and had not been long on board before he felt that the khalasiwas not quite what he appeared to be. His suspicion was strengthened bythe deference, slight but unmistakable, paid by the serang to the lascar;for though Desmond had warned Hossain to be on his guard, the man hadbeen unable to preserve thoroughly the attitude of a superior to aninferior. 

On receiving the short message from Clive, Desmond had a consultationwith Hossain. The coolies had finished their work and received their pay, and there was nothing unusual in the sight of the boatmen squatting ondeck before loosing their craft from its moorings. 

"If we are to do what we wish to do, Hossain, " said Desmond, "we shallrequire a third man to help us. Shall we take Karim into our confidence?"

"That is as you please, sahib. He is a good man, and will, I think, befaithful. "

"Well, send the other fellow on shore; I shall speak to the man. "

The serang gave the second of the two Bengalis who had formed hisoriginal crew an errand on shore. Desmond beckoned up the new man. 

"Are you willing to undertake a service of risk, for a big reward, Karim?" he asked. 

The man hesitated. 

"It will be worth a hundred rupees to you. "

Karim's eyes sparkled; a hundred rupees represented a fortune to a man ofhis class; but he still hesitated. 

"Am I to be alone?" he asked at length. 

"No, " said Desmond; "we shall be with you. "

"Hai! If the sahib"--the word slipped out unawares--"is to be there it isfixed. He is my father and mother: did he not save me from the river? Iwould serve him without reward. "

"That is very well. All the same the reward shall be yours--to be paid toyou if we succeed, to your family if we fail. For if we fail it will beour last day: they will certainly shoot us. There is time to draw back. "

"If the sahib is to be there I am not afraid. "

"Good. You can go aft. We shall tell you later what is to be done. Andremember, on this boat I am no sahib. I am a khalasi from Gujarat. "

"I shall remember--sahib. "

Desmond told the serang that the help of the man was assured, anddiscussed with him the enterprise upon which he was bent. He had givenhis word to Clive that the blocking of the river should be prevented, andthough the task bade fair to be difficult he was resolved not to fail. The vessels that were to be sunk in the fairway were moored opposite thefort at a distance of about a ship's length from one another. Thesubahdar was on the sloop farthest down the river, Hubbo on the next. With the subahdar there were three men. The signal for the scuttling ofthe vessels was to be the waving of a green flag by the subahdar; thiswas to be repeated by Hubbo, then by the serang on the sloop above him, and so on to the end. The vessels were in echelon, the one highest up theriver lying well over to the left bank and nearest to the fort, the reststudding the fairway so that if they sank at their moorings it would beimpossible for a ship of any size to thread its way between them. It didnot appear that anything had been done to insure their sinking broadsideto the current, the reason being probably that, whatever might beattempted with this design, the river would have its will with thevessels as soon as they sank. 

"Our only chance, " said Desmond, "is to get hold of the subahdar. If wecan only capture him the rest should be easy--especially as Hubbo is onthe next sloop, which screens the subahdar's from the rest. It is out ofspeaking distance from the fort, too--another piece of luck for us. Ishall think things over in the night, Hossain; be sure to wake me, if Iam not awake, at least a gharri {half an hour} before dawn. "

It was the first of January, 1757. At half-past seven in the morning aheavily-laden petala was making its way slowly against the tide down theHugli. Four men were on board; two were rowing, one was at the helm, thefourth stood looking intently before him. The boat had passed severalvessels lying opposite Tanna Fort, at various distances from the bank, and came abreast of the last but one. There the rowers ceased pulling atan order from the man standing, who put his hand to his mouth and hailedthe sloop. 

An answer came from a man on deck inviting the caller to come on board. With a few strokes of the oars the petala was run alongside, and Hossainjoined his brother. 

"Is it well, brother?" he said. 

"It is well, " replied Hubbo. 

Desmond at the helm of the petala looked eagerly ahead at the last sloopof the line. He could see the subahdar on deck, a somewhat portly figurein resplendent costume. A small dinghy was passing between his vessel andthe shore. It contained a number of servants, who had brought him hisbreakfast from the fort. The crews of the other vessels had preparedtheir food on board. 

After a time a dinghy was let down from Hubbo's sloop. Hubbo himselfstepped into it with one of his crew, and was rowed to the subahdar'svessel. Desmond, watching him narrowly, saw him salaam deeply as he wenton board. 

"Salaam, huzur!" said Hubbo. "Your Excellency will pardon me, butbismillah! I have just discovered a matter of importance. Our task, huzur, has lain much on my mind; we have never done anything of the sortbefore, and seeing on yonder petala a man I know well, who has spent manyyears on the kala pani, I ventured to ask if he knew what time would beneeded to sink a ship with several holes drilled in the hull. "

"That depends on the size of the holes, fool!" said the subahdar with asnort. 

"True, huzur; that is what the serang said. But he went on to tell me ofa case like your Excellency's. His ship was once captured by the piratesof the Sandarbands. They drilled several holes in the hull, and rowedaway, leaving my friend and several of the crew to sink with the vessel. But the holes were not big enough. When the pirate had disappeared, themen on the ship, using all their strength, managed to run her ashore, filled up the holes at low tide, and floated her off when the tide camein again. "

A look of concern crept over the subahdar's face as he listened. He was aman without experience of ships, and became uneasy at the suggestion thatanything might mar the execution of his task. Manik Chand would notlightly overlook a failure. 

"Hearing this, huzur, " Hubbo continued, "I venture to mention the matterto your Excellency, especially as it seemed to me, from what the serangsaid, that the holes drilled by the pirates were even larger than thosemade by the mistris {head workmen} sent from the fort. "

The subahdar looked still more concerned. 

"Hai!" he exclaimed, "it is very disturbing. And there is no time to doanything; the Firangi's ships are reported to be on their way up theriver; the dogs of Kafirs {unbelievers} may be here soon. "

He bit his fingers, frowned, looked anxiously down the river, then acrossto the brick fort at Tanna, then to the new mud fort at Aligarh on theother bank, as if wondering whether he should send or signal a message toone or the other. Hubbo was silent for a moment, then he said:

"Have I the huzur's leave to speak?"

"By the twelve imams {high priests descending from Ali, the son-in-law ofMahomet}, yes! but quickly. "

"There is a mistri on board the serang's boat who is used to working inships--a khalasi from Gujarat. He might do something on board yourExcellency's ship. If this vessel sank, according to the plan, theFirangi would not be able to get aboard the others, and they would havetime to sink slowly. "

"Barik allah {bravo!}! It is a good idea. Bid the mistri come aboard atonce. "

Hubbo sent a long hail over the water. The serang cast off the rope bywhich he had made fast to the sloop, and the petala came slowly downuntil it was abreast of the subahdar's vessel. Hossain, Desmond, andKarim stepped aboard, the last carrying a small box of tools. Only theBengali was left in the boat. All salaamed low to the subahdar. 

"This, huzur, is my friend, " said Hubbo, presenting his brother. "This isthe mistri, and this his assistant. "

"Good!" said the subahdar. "Go down into the hold, mistri: look to theholes; if they are not large enough make them larger, and as quickly asyou can. "

Desmond with Karim dived down into the hold. It was filled with earth, except where a gangway shored up with balks of timber had been left togive access to the holes that had been drilled and temporarily stopped. After a few words from the subahdar, Hubbo and his brother followedDesmond below. 

Half an hour later, Hubbo climbed up through the hatchway and approachedthe subahdar, who was pacing the deck, giving many an anxious glance downthe river. 

"The mistri has bored another hole, huzur. He said the more holes thebetter. Perhaps your Excellency will deign to see whether you regard itas sufficient. "

"Nay, I should defile my clothes, " said the subahdar, not relishing thethought of descending into the malodorous depths. 

"As your Excellency pleases, " said Hubbo, salaaming. 

Then the gravity of his charge appeared to overcome the subahdar'sscruples. Gathering his robes close about him, he stepped to the hatchwayand lowered himself into the hold. 

"We must hasten, " he said. "The ships of the Firangi may appear at anymoment, and I must be on the lookout. 

"Meantime, " he added to Hubbo, "you keep watch. "

For a man of his build he was fairly active. Dropping on to the looseearth, he scrambled over it towards the oil lamp by whose light themistri and his assistant were working. 

"This, huzur, " said Hossain, pointing to a circular cut in the plankingof the vessel, "is the new hole. It is not yet driven through, but ifyour Excellency thinks it sufficient--"

The subahdar craned forward to examine it. "Khubber dar {look out}!" saidDesmond in a low voice. 

Hossain had only waited for this signal. He threw himself on the stoopingsubahdar and bore him to the floor, at the same time stuffing a gagbetween his teeth. In a couple of minutes he was lying bound andhelpless. His ornate garment was but little sullied. It had been strippedfrom him by the mistri, who hastily donned it over his own scantyraiment, together with the subahdar's turban. 

"How will that do, Hossain?" asked Desmond with a smile. 

The serang held up the oil lamp to inspect him. With his other hand heslightly altered the set of the turban and rearranged the folds of therobe. 

"That is excellent, sahib, " he said. "A little more girth would perhapshave been better, but in the distance no one will notice. "

Then calling to Hubbo, he said that all was ready. Hossain clamberedthrough the hatchway, leaving Desmond concealed behind a large timberupright, supporting the deck. As soon as the serang had reached his side, Hubbo called to the men on watch and said:

"Hai, Ali, Chedi, come here!"

"Jo hukm {as ordered}!" replied one of the men. Two of the three hurriedaft, and at Hubbo's bidding, swung down into the hold. The serang orderedthem to go towards the lamp. They groped their way in that direction;Desmond sprang up through the hatchway; it was clapped down and firmlysecured, and the subahdar with two-thirds of his crew was a prisoner inthe hold. The third man at the far end of the boat had not seen or heardanything of what had happened. 

So far the plot had succeeded admirably. Whatever order might reach thewaiting vessels, it would not be given by the subahdar. The question nowwas, how to prevent the men in charge of the vessels and the authoritiesin Tanna Fort from becoming suspicious. The latter would not bedifficult. Manik Chand would gain nothing by blocking the fairway unlessit were absolutely necessary to do so, and, in common with other of theNawab's lieutenants, he had an overweening confidence in the power of theforts to repel an attack from the English ships. For this reason it wasadvisable to make the minds of the other men easy, and Desmond soon hiton a plan. 

"You had better return to your sloop, Hubbo, " he said. "Send a message tothe men on the other vessels that I--the subahdar, you know--have made upmy mind to allow one of the enemy's ships to pass me before giving thesignal. I shall thus capture one at least, and it may be the admiral's. "

Hubbo set off, and when he reached his own vessel he sent a boat with amessage to each of the ships in turn. Meanwhile, thinking the appearanceof a petala alongside of the subahdar's sloop might awaken suspicion orat least curiosity in the fort, Desmond decided to send it down the riverin charge of Hossain. He was thus left alone on deck with the subahdar'sthird man. 

For a time the man, standing far forward, was unaware of the strikingchange in the personality garbed in the subahdar's clothes. But glancingback at length, he started, looked a second time, and after a moment'shesitation walked down the deck. 

"Go back to your post, " said Desmond sternly, "and see that you keep agood lookout for the Firangi's ships. "

The man salaamed and returned to the prow in manifest bewilderment. Morethan once he looked back as he heard strange knockings from below. Desmond only smiled. If the sound was heard from the forts, it would beregarded merely as a sign that the preparations for sinking the vesselwere not yet completed. 

Time passed on, and ever and anon Desmond looked eagerly down the riverfor a sign of the oncoming fleet. At last, somewhere about midday, heobserved signs of excitement in Tanna Fort, and almost simultaneously sawa puff of smoke and heard a report from one of its guns. 

Shortly afterwards he observed the spars of a British-built ship slowlyapproaching upstream. In full confidence that the scheme for blocking theriver was now frustrated, he awaited with patience the oncoming of thefleet, wondering whether the forts would make a determined resistance. 

Slowly the vessel drew nearer. Another shot was fired from the fort, withwhat result Desmond could not tell. But immediately afterwards he heardthe distant report of a heavy gun, followed by a crash near at hand, anda babel of yells. A shot from the British ship had plumped right in thecenter of Tanna Fort. At the same moment Desmond recognized thefigurehead. 

"'Tis the Tyger!" he said to himself with a smile. "Won't Captain Lathamgrin when he sees me in this rig!"

Then he laughed aloud, for the valiant defenders of Tanna Fort had notwaited for a second shot. They were swarming helter skelter out of harm'sway, rushing at the top of their speed up the river and leaving theirfortress to its fate. On the other bank the garrison of Aligarh Fort hadalso taken flight, and were streaming along with excited cries in thedirection of Calcutta. 

The man in the bows of the sloop looked amazedly at the new subahdar. Whydid he laugh? Why did he not wave the green flag that lay at his hand?When were the men who had gone below going to knock out the stoppings ofthe holes and take to the boat with himself and their commander? But thesubahdar still stood laughing. 

All at once Desmond, remembering the real subahdar below, asked himself:what if he drove out the bungs and scuttled the vessel? But the questionbrought a smile to his lips. He could not conceive of the Bengali'splaying such a heroic part, and he possessed his soul in peace. 

Now the Tyger was in full sight, and behind her Desmond saw thewell-remembered Kent, Admiral Watson's flagship. The stampede from theforts had evidently been observed on board, for firing had ceased, andboats were already being lowered and filled with men. 

Desmond waited. The Tyger's boats, he saw, were making for Tanna Fort:the Kent's for Aligarh. But one of the latter was heading straight forthe sloop. Desmond could not resist the temptation to a joke. Makinghimself look as important as he could, he stood by the gunwale watchingwith an air of dignity the oncoming of the boat. It was in command of ayoung lieutenant. The men bent to their oars with a will, and Desmondcould soon hear the voice of the officer as he called to his crew. 

But his amusement was mingled with amazement and delight when, in the bigform sitting in the bow of the boat, he recognized no other than his oldmessmate, his old comrade in the Fight of the Carts--William Bulger. Thejoke would be even better than he had expected. 

The boat drew closer: it was level with the nose of the sloop; and thelieutenant sang out the command, "Ship oars!" It came alongside. 

"Bulger, " cried the lieutenant, "skip aboard and announce us to that oldpeacock up on deck. "

"Ay, ay, sir, " replied Bulger, "which his feathers will be plucked, or myname en't Bulger. "

At the side of the sloop lay the dinghy intended to convey the subahdarand his men ashore when the work of sinking had been started. It was madefast to the vessel by a rope. Bulger sprang into the dinghy and thenbegan an ascent so clever, and at the same time so comical, that Desmondhad much ado not to spoil his joke by a premature explosion of laughter. The burly seaman swarmed up the rope like a monkey, clasping it with hislegs as he took each upward grip. But the comedy of his actions wasprovided by his hook. Having only one arm--an arm, it is true, with thebiceps of a giant--he could not clutch the rope in the ordinary way. Butat each successive spring he dug his hook into the side of the vessel, and mounted with amazing rapidity, talking to himself all the time. 

"Avast, there!" he shouted, as with a final heave upon the hook dug intothe gunwale he hoisted himself on deck. "Haul down your colors, matey, which they make a pretty pictur', they do. "

He came overpoweringly towards Desmond, his arm and stump spread wide asif to embrace him. 

"I may be wrong, " said Desmond, "but have I not the pleasure ofaddressing Mr. William Bulger?"

Bulger started as if shot. His broad face spelled first blank amazement, then incredulity, then surprised belief. Spreading his legs wide andbending his knees, he rested his hand on one and his hook on the other, shut one eye, and stuck his tongue out at the corner of his mouth. 

"By the Dutchman!" he exclaimed, "if it don't beat cock fighting! Sure, 'tis Mr. Burke himself! Anna Maria! But for why did you go for to makeyourself sich a Guy Faux guy, sir?"

"How are you, old fellow?" said Desmond heartily. "I am a bit of ascarecrow, no doubt, but we've won the trick, man. The real guy is downbelow, dead from fright by this time, I expect. 

"Sorry to give you the trouble of boarding, sir, " he added, as thelieutenant came over the side. "If you'll take me into your boat I'll beglad to report to the admiral or to Colonel Clive. "

"By jimmy, Mr. Burke!" said the lieutenant, laughing, "you've got a wayof your own of popping up at odd times and in odd places. Come with me, by all means--just as you are, if you please. The admiral wouldn't missthe look of you for anything. By George! 'tis a rare bit of play acting. Did I hear you say you've got some natives under hatchways?"

"Yes; the owner of this finery is below with two of his men. You can hearhim now. "

There was a violent and sustained knocking below deck. 

"I'll send my man to release him. The fleet are all coming up, sir?"

"Yes; the Bridgewater and Kingfisher are close in our wake. Come along;we'll catch the admiral before he goes ashore. "

Chapter 28: In which Captain Barker has cause to rue the day whenhe met Mr. Diggle; and our hero continues to wipe off old scores. 

Desmond received a warm welcome both from Admiral Watson and ColonelClive. His account of the manner in which he had defeated Manik Chand'sscheme for blocking the river was received with shouts of laughter, whilehis ingenuity and courage were warmly commended by both officers. Indeed, the admiral, always more impulsive than Clive, offered him on the spot alieutenancy in the fleet, and was not very well pleased when Desmondpolitely declined the honor. He caught a gleam of approval in Clive'seyes, and later in the day, when he saw his hero alone, he felt wellrewarded. 

"A naval lieutenant ranks higher than a lieutenant in the army--I supposeyou know that, Burke?" said Clive. 

"Yes, sir. "

"And you're only a cadet. From today you are a lieutenant, my lad. I ampleased with you, and whatever his enemies say of Bob Clive, no one eversaid of him that he forgot a friend. "

The forces proceeded to Calcutta next day, and retook the town withsurprising ease. Manik Chand was so much alarmed by seeing the effect ofthe big guns of the fleet that he abandoned the place almost withoutstriking a blow, and when the British troops entered they were too lateeven to make any prisoners save a few of the ragtag and bobtail in therear. 

Mr. Merriman returned to Calcutta a few days later. Desmond was grievedto observe how rapidly he was aging. In spite of Clive's recommendationto keep silence he could not refrain from telling his friend what he haddiscovered about the missing ladies; and he did not regret it, for theknowledge that they were alive and, when last heard of, out of Peloti'sclutches, acted like a tonic. Merriman was all eagerness to set off andsearch for them himself; but Desmond pointed out the danger of such acourse, and he reluctantly agreed to wait a little longer, and seewhether any news could be obtained during the operations which Clive wasplanning against the Nawab. 

Meanwhile, Desmond learned from Bulger what had happened to him since thefall of Calcutta. He was one of the hundred and forty-six thrown into theBlack Hole. 

"'Tis only by the mercy of the Almighty I'm here today, " he saidsolemnly. "I saw what 'twould be as soon as the door of that Black Holewas locked, and me and some others tried to force it. 'Tweren't no good. Mr. Holwell--he's a brave man, an' no mistake--begged an' prayed of usall to be quiet; but Lor' bless you, he might ha' saved his breath. 'Twasa hot night; we soon began to sweat most horrible an' feel a ragin'thirst. We took off most of our clothes, an' waved our hats to set theair a-movin'; which 'twas hard enough work, 'cos we was packed so tight. I en't a-goin' to tell you all the horrors o' that night, sir; I'd likeuncommon to forget 'em, though I don't believe I never shall. 'Twas soawful that many a poor wretch begged of the Moors outside to fire on 'em. Worst was when the old jamadar put skins o' water in at the window. MyGod! them about me fought like demons, which if I hadn't flattened myselfagainst the wall I should ha' been crushed or trodden to death, like moston 'em. For me, I couldn't get near the water; I sucked my shirt sleeves, an' 'tis my belief 'twas on'y that saved me from goin' mad. A man whatwas next me took out his knife an' slit a vein, 'cos he couldn't bear theagony no longer. Soon arter, I fell in a dead faint, an' knowed no moretill I found myself on my back outside, with a Moor chuckin' water at me. They let me go, along with some others; and a rotten old hulk I was, there en't no mistake about that. Why, bless you, my skin come out allboils as thick as barnacles on a hull arter a six months' voyage, all'cos o' being in sich bad air without water. And then the fever cameaboard, an' somehow or other I got shipped to the mounseers' hospital atChandernagore, which they was very kind to me, sir; there en't no denyin'that. I may be wrong, but I could take my oath, haffidavy, an' solemnwill an' testament that a mounseer's got a heart inside of his body arterall, which makes him all the better chap to have a slap at if you come tothink of the why an' wherefore of it. "

"But how came you on board the Tyger?"

"Well, when my boils was gone an' the fever slung overboard, I got downto Fulta an' held on the slack there; an' when the ships come up, theysent for me, 'cos havin' sailed up an' down the river many a time, theythought as how I could do a bit o' pilotin', there not bein' enough Dutchpilots to go round. An' I ha' had some fun, too, which I wonder I canlaugh arter that Black Hole and all. By thunder! 'tis a merry sight tosee the Moors run. The very look of a cutlass a'most turns 'un white, andthey well-nigh drops down dead if they see a sailor man. Why, t'other dayat Budge Budge--they ought to call it Fudge Fudge now, seems to me--theJack tars went ashore about nightfall to help the lobsters storm the fortin the dark. But Colonel Clive he was dog tired, an' went to his bed, sayin' as how he'd lead a boardin' party in the mornin'. That warn'texactly beans an' bacon; nary a man but would ha' took a big dose o'fever if they'd laid out on the fields all night. 

"Anyways, somewhere about eleven, an' pitch dark, a Jack which his nameis Strahan--a Scotchman, by what they say--went off all alone by himself, to have a sort of private peep at that there fort. He was pretty wellfilled up wi' grog, or pr'aps he wouldn't ha' been quite so venturesome. Well, he waded up to his chin in a ditch o' mud what goes round the fort, with his pistols above his head. When he gets over, bang goes one pistol, an' he sets up a shout: 'One and all, my boys! one and all, hurray!'--a-dreamin' I s'pose as he was captain of a boardin' party an acrew o' swabs behind him. Up he goes, up the bastion; bang goes t'otherpistol; then he outs with his cutlass, a-roarin' hurray with a voice likea twelve pounder; down goes three o' them Moors; another breaks Jack'scutlass with his simitar; bless you, what's he care? don't care a straw, which his name is Strahan; he've got a fist, he have, an' he dashes it inthe Moor's face, collars his simitar, cuts his throat and sings out, 'Ho, mateys! this 'ere fort's mine!'

"Up comes three or four of his mates what heard his voice; they swingsround the cannon on the bastion an' turns it on the enemy; bang! bang!and bless your heart, the Moors cut and run, an' the fort was ourn. "

At the moment Desmond thought that Bulger was drawing the long bow. Butmeeting Captain Speke of the Kent a little later, he asked how much truththere was in the story. 

"'Tis all true, " said the captain, laughing, "but not the whole truth. The day after Strahan's mad performance the admiral sends for him:discipline must be maintained, you know. 'What's this I hear about you?'says Mr. Watson, with a face of thunder. Strahan bobbed, and scratchedhis head, and twirled his hat in his hand, and says: 'Why to be sure, sir, 'twas I took the fort, and I hope there ain't no harm in it!' ByGeorge! 'twas as much as the admiral could do to keep a straight face. Hegot the fellow to tell us about it: we had our faces in our handkerchiefsall the time. Then Mr. Watson gave him a pretty rough wigging, and woundup by saying that he'd consult me as to the number of lashes to be laidon. 

"You should have seen the fellow's face! As he went out of the cabin Iheard him mutter: 'Well, if I'm to be flogged for this 'ere haction, behanged if I ever take another fort alone by myself as long as I live!'"

"Surely he wasn't flogged?" said Desmond, laughing heartily. 

"Oh, no! Mr. Watson told us as a matter of form to put in a plea for thefellow, and then condescended to let him off. Pity he's such a loosefish!"

For two months Desmond remained with Clive. He was with him at thecapture of Hugli, and in that brisk fight at Calcutta on the fifth ofFebruary, which gave the Nawab his first taste of British quality. Sirajuddaula was encamped to the northeast of the town with a huge army. In a heavy fog, about daybreak, Clive came up at the head of a mixedforce of king's troops, sepoys and sailors, some two thousand men in all. Hordes of Persian cavalry charged him through the mist, but they werebeaten off, and Clive forced his way through the enemy's camp until hecame near the Nawab's own tents, pitched in Omichand's garden. Sirajuddaula himself was within an ace of being captured. His troops madebut a poor stand against the British, and by midday the battle was over. 

Scared by this defeat, the Nawab was ready to conclude with the Companythe treaty which long negotiations had failed to effect. By this treatythe trading privileges granted to the Company by the emperor of Delhiwere confirmed; the Nawab agreed to pay full compensation for the lossessustained by the Company and its servants; and the right to fortifyCalcutta was conceded. The longstanding grievances of the Company werethus, on paper, redressed. 

A day or two after the battle a ship arrived with the news that war hadbeen declared in Europe between England and France. Efforts to maintainneutrality between the English and French in Bengal having failed, Clivewished the Nawab to join him in an attack on the French settlements inBengal. This the Nawab refused to do, though he wrote, promising that hewould hold as enemies all who were enemies of Clive--a promise that borebitter fruit before many months had passed. 

The French were keen rivals of the Company in the trade of India, andconstantly took advantage of native troubles to score a point in thegame. Clive had come to Bengal with the full intention of making theCompany, whose servant he was, supreme; and having secured the treatywith Sirajuddaula he resolved to turn his arms against the French. Theywere suspected of helping the Nawab in his expedition against Calcutta:it was known that the Nawab, treating his engagements with recklesslevity and faithlessness, was trying to persuade Bussy, the Frenchcommander in the Dekkan, to help him to expel the British from Bengal. There was excuse enough for an attack on Chandernagore. 

But before Clive could open hostilities, he was required, by an oldarrangement with the Mogul, to obtain permission from the Nawab. Thispermission was at length got from him by Omichand. The sack of Calcuttaby the Nawab had caused Omichand great loss, and, hoping in part toretrieve it, he made his peace with Clive and the Council, and was thenselected to accompany Mr. Watts when he went as British representative toMurshidabad. The wily Sikh, working always for his own ends, contrived tomake the unstable young despot believe that the French were tricking him, and in a fit of passion he sealed a letter allowing Admiral Watson tomake war upon them. He repented of it immediately, but the letter wasgone. 

On the day after it reached the admiral, March twelfth, 1757, Clive senta summons to Monsieur Renault, the governor of Chandernagore, tosurrender the fort. No reply was received that day, and Clive resolved, failing a satisfactory answer within twenty-four hours, to read KingGeorge's declaration of war and attack the French. 

Desmond was breakfasting among a number of his fellow officers nextmorning when up came Hossain, the serang who had accompanied him on hiseventful journeys up and down the Hugli. Lately he had been employed, onDesmond's recommendation, in bringing supplies up the river for thetroops. The man salaamed and said that he wished to say a few wordsprivately to the sahib. Desmond rose, and went apart with him. 

At sunrise, said the man, a vessel flying Dutch colors had dropped downthe river past the English fleet. Her name was Dutch, and her destinationRotterdam; but Hossain was certain that she was really the Good Intent, which Desmond had pointed out to him as they passed Chandernagore, andwhich they had more than once seen since in the course of their journeys. Her appearance had attracted some attention on the fleet; and the Tygerhad sent a shot after her, ordering her to heave to; but having a strongnortheast wind behind her, she took no notice of the signal and held onher course. 

Desmond thanked Hossain for the information, and, leaving his breakfastunfinished, went off at once to see Clive, whom he was to join thatmorning on a tour of inspection of the northwest part of the Frenchsettlement. 

"Well, I don't see what we can do, " said Clive, when Desmond repeated thenews to him. "Mr. Watson no doubt suspected her when it was too late. Nothing but a regular chase could have captured her after she had passed. Ships can't be spared for that; they've much more important work onhand. "

"Still, 'tis a pity, sir, " said Desmond. "'Tis not only that CaptainBarker is an interloper; he has been in league with pirates, and hisbeing at Chandernagore all these months means no good. "

"It means, at any rate, that he hasn't been able to get a cargo. Trade'sat a standstill. Well, I'd give something to lay Mr. Barker and his crewby the heels--on behalf of the Company, Burke, for don't forget, as someof our friends of the Calcutta Council do, that I am here to save theCompany, not their private property. 'Tis too late to stop the vesselnow. "

"I'd like to try, sir. "

"I dare say you would. You're as ready to take risks as I am, " he added, with his characteristic pursing of the lips; "and 'pon my word, you'rejust as lucky! For I'm lucky, Burke; there's no doubt of it. That affairat Calcutta might have done for us but for the morning mist. I'd like totry myself. It would punish a set of rogues, and discourage interloping, to the benefit of the Company. But I can't spare men for the job. Barkerhas no doubt a large crew; they'll be on the lookout for attack; no, Ican't touch it. "

Desmond hesitated for a moment. He did not wish to lose the fighting atChandernagore, but he had the strongest personal reasons for desiring thearrest of the Good Intent. 

"Do you think, sir, we shall capture this place tomorrow?" he askedsuddenly. 

"Scarcely, my boy, " said Clive, smiling; "nor by tomorrow week, unlessthe French have forgotten how to fight. Why do you ask?"

"Because if you'd give me leave I'd like to have a shot at the GoodIntent--provided I got back in time to be with you in the fighting line, sir. "

"Well, I can't keep things waiting for you. And it seems a wild-goosechase--rather a hazardous one. "

"I'd risk that, sir. I could get together some men in Calcutta, and I'dhope to be back here in a couple of days. "

"Well, well, Burke, you'd wheedle the Mogul himself. Anyone could tellyou're an Irishman. Get along, then; do your best, and if you don't comeback I'll try to take Chandernagore without you. "

He smiled as he slapped Desmond on the shoulder. Well pleased with hisready consent, Desmond hurried away, got a horse, and riding hard reachedCalcutta by eight o'clock and went straight to Mr. Merriman. Explainingwhat was afoot, he asked for the loan of the men of the Hormuzzeer. Merriman at once agreed; Captain Barker was a friend of Peloti's; and heneeded no stronger inducement. 

Desmond hurried down to the river; the Hormuzzeer was lying offCruttenden Ghat; and Mr. Toley for once broke through his settled sadnessof demeanor when he learned of the expedition proposed. 

While Toley collected the crew and made his preparations, Desmondconsulted a pilot. The Good Intent had passed Calcutta an hour before;but the man said that, though favored by the wind, she would scarcely getpast the bar at Mayapur on the evening tide. She might do so ifexceptionally lucky; in that case there would be very little chance ofovertaking her. 

Less than two hours after Desmond reached Calcutta two budgeros leftCruttenden Ghat. Each was provided with a double complement of men, andalthough the sails filled with a strong following wind, their oars werekept constantly in play. The passengers on board were for the most partunaccustomed to this luxurious mode of traveling. There were a dozenlascars; Hossain the serang; Karim, the man saved by Desmond atChandernagore; Bulger and the second mate of the Hormuzzeer, and Mr. Toley, who, like Desmond and the serang, was clothed, much to Bulger'samusement, as a fairly well-to-do ryot. 

For some hours the tide was contrary; but when it turned, the budgeros, under the combined impulses of sail, oar and current, made swiftprogress, arousing some curiosity among the crews of riverside craft, little accustomed to the sight of budgeros moving so rapidly. 

Approaching Mayapur, Desmond descried the spars of the Good Intent a longway ahead. Was there enough water to allow her to pass the bar? hewondered. Apparently there was, for she kept straight on her course underfull sail. Desmond bit his lips with vexation, and had almost given uphope, though he did not permit any slackening of speed, when to his joyhe saw the vessel strike her topsails, then the rest of her canvas. 

He at once ran his boats to the shore at Mayapur. There were a number ofriver craft at the place, so that the movements of his budgeros, ifobserved from the Good Intent, were not likely to awaken suspicion. Onlanding he went to the house of a native merchant, Babu Aghor Nath Bose, to whom he had a letter from Mr. Merriman. 

"Can you arrange for us, " he said, when civilities had been exchanged, "tonight, the loan of two shabby old country boats?"

The native considered. 

"I think I can, sahib, " he said at length. "I would do much for MerrimanSahib. A man I frequently employ is now anchored off my ghat. No doubt, for fair pay, he and another might be persuaded to lend their craft. "

"Very well, be good enough to arrange it. I only require the boats for afew hours tomorrow morning. Do you think twenty rupees would suffice?"

The native opened his eyes. He himself would not have offered so much. But he said:

"Doubtless that will suffice, sahib. The matter is settled. "

"I shall meet you in an hour. Thank you. "

Returning to the budgeros, Desmond instructed Hossain to go into thebazaar and buy up all the fresh fruit he could find. The sales for theday were over; but Hossain hunted up the fruit sellers and bargained sosuccessfully that when he returned he was accompanied by a whole gang ofcoolies, bearing what seemed to Desmond an appalling quantity of melons, all for thirty rupees. 

Before this, however, Aghor Nath Bose had reported that the hire of thetwo boats was duly arranged. They were open boats, little more thanbarges, with a small cabin or shelter aft. Their crews had been dismissedand had taken their belongings ashore; both were empty of cargo. Desmondwent with Bulger on board and arranged a number of bamboos crosswise onthe boats, covering up the empty spaces which would usually be occupiedby merchandise. Over the bamboos he placed a layer of thin matting, andon this, when Hossain returned, he ordered the coolies to put the melons. To a casual observer it would have appeared that the boats were ladenwith a particularly heavy cargo of the golden fruit. 

An hour before dawn, the lascars and others from the Hormuzzeer slippedquietly from the budgeros on board the country boats, and bestowedthemselves as best they could under the bamboo deck supporting themelons. It was cool in the early morning, although the hot season wasapproaching; but Desmond did not envy the men their close quarters. Theywere so much excited, however, at the adventure before them, and so eagerto earn the liberal reward promised them if it succeeded, that not a manmurmured. The Europeans had cooler quarters in the rude cabins, wherethey were hidden from prying eyes under miscellaneous native wraps. 

Desmond had learned from the pilot that it would be nearly eight o'clockbefore the depth of water over the bar was sufficient to allow a shiplike the Good Intent to proceed with safety. A little before daybreak thetwo boats crept out from the ghat. It was well to avoid curiosity beforeMayapur woke up. Desmond steered the first, Hossain the second; andbesides the steersmen there were two men visible on the deck of each. 

The tide was running up, but the wind still held from the northeast, andthough moderated in force since the evening it was strong enough to takethem slowly down toward the Good Intent. The sky was lightening, but aslight mist hung over the river. Desmond kept a close lookout ahead, andafter about half an hour he caught sight of the hull of the Good Intent, looming before him out of the mist. Allowing the second boat to comealongside, he turned and spoke to the serang. 

"Now, Hossain, there she is. Hail her. "

"Hai, hai!" shouted the man. "Do the sahibs want to buy any fresh fruit?"

An oath floated down from the stern. Captain Barker was there, peeringintently through the mist up the river. 

"Good melons, sahib, all fresh, and not too ripe. Cheap as ragi, sahib. "

The mate had joined the captain; the Dutch pilot stood by, smoking apipe. The fruit boats had by this time come under the stern of thevessel, and Desmond heard the mate say:

"We came away in such a hurry, sir, that we hadn't time to take in asupply of vegetables. Melons'll keep, sir, if they en't overripe. "

Barker growled, then bent over and called to the serang. "How much?"

"Very cheap, sahib, very cheap. I will come aboard. "

"Then be quick about it: we're going to trip the anchor, melons or nomelons. D'ye hear?"

Hossain ran down the sail and clambered up the chains; which the otherboatmen made fast to a rope thrown from the deck. Desmond also loweredhis sail, steering so as to approach the port quarter of the Good Intent, the serang's boat being on the starboard. No rope was thrown to him, buthe found that the tide was now only strong enough to neutralize the wind, and a stroke every now and again with the paddle at the stern kept hisboat stationary. 

Meanwhile there came from the deck the singsong of men heaving up theanchor. When the serang stepped on board the greater part of the crew ofthe Good Intent were forward. Little time was spent in haggling. A melonwas thrown up as a sample, and the price asked was so extraordinarily lowthat Captain Barker evidently thought he had got a bargain. 

"Heave 'em up, " he said, "and if they en't all up to sample--"

He broke off, no doubt believing that his fierce scowl was sufficient topoint his threat. 

The serang hailed Desmond to come alongside. A few sweeps of the paddlebrought the boat close underneath the Good Intent's side, and a secondrope enabled him to make fast. 

He swarmed up the rope, followed by one of the boatmen. The other, on theboat, began to fill a basket with melons, as if preparing to send them onboard. At the same time Karim joined Hossain from the other side, so thatthere were now four of the party on deck. 

At a sign from Desmond, the two natives, carrying out instructionspreviously given, strolled toward the companionway. Hossain had started aconversation with the captain and mate, telling them about the Britishfleet he had passed as he came down the river. The Dutch pilot looked on, stolidly puffing his pipe. 

Desmond stepped to the side of the vessel as though to hoist the basketwith the running tackle. Making a sign to the men below, he called in aloud voice:

"Tano!"

Instantly the men swarmed up the rope. At the signal, misleading to thecrew of the Good Intent, man after man crawled from beneath the mattingon the boat below, and clambered up the ropes, led by Bulger on one sideand Mr. Toley on the other. They made little noise, and that was drownedby the singsong of the sailors and the grinding of the cables; the pilotwith his back to the bulwarks saw nothing, and before Captain Barker knewthat anything unusual was occurring both Bulger and Toley were tumblingover the sides. 

The captain stood almost petrified with amazement as he saw Bulger's redface rising like the morning sun. He stepped back apace. 

"What the--"

The exclamation was never completed. Desmond stepped up to him and in alow voice said:

"In the name of his Majesty, King George, I call upon you, CaptainBarker, to surrender this ship. "

He had a leveled pistol in his hand. Bulger with a cutlass sprang to oneside, and Toley ranged himself on the other. Hossain had joined the twoboatmen at the companionway; all had brought out pistols from the foldsof their clothing, and the companionway commanded access to the ship'sarmory. 

Barker, who had grown purple at the sight of Bulger, now turned a sicklywhite. The mate dashed forward, calling to the crew, who, seeing thatsomething was amiss, came along with a rush, arming themselves withbelaying pins and any other weapons that came handy. Toley, however, leaving the cowed and speechless captain to Desmond, stepped toward themen. They recognized him at once and paused doubtfully. 

"You know me, " he said. "I'm a man of few words. You won't go furtherthis voyage. Captain Barker has surrendered the ship. You'll drop thosedesperate things in your hands and go for'ard. Show a leg, now!"

The men looked from one to another, then at the captain, who was at thatmoment handing over his sword to Desmond. If Captain Barker was too badlybeaten to swear he was in poor case indeed. The crew's hesitation was butmomentary; under Toley's sad gaze they sullenly flung down their weaponsand went forward. 

Only then did the captain find speech. But it was to utter a fearfulcurse, ending with the name:

"Diggle. "

Chapter 29: In which our hero does not win the Battle of Plassey:but, where all do well, gains as much glory as the rest. 

Leaving Mr. Toley to bring the Good Intent up to Calcutta, Desmondhurried back in advance and remained in the town just long enough toinform Mr. Merriman of the happy result of his adventure and to changeinto his own clothes, and then returned to Chandernagore on horseback, ashe had come. He found Clive encamped two miles to the west of the fort. No reply having reached him from Monsieur Renault, Clive had read thedeclaration of war as he had threatened, and opened hostilities by anattack on an outpost. 

"You've no need to tell me you've succeeded, Burke, " he said when Desmondpresented himself. "I see it in your eyes. But I've no time to hear yourstory now. It must wait until we have seen the result of the day'sfighting. Not that I expect much of it in this quarter. We can't take theplace with the land force only, and I won't throw away life till theadmiral has tried the effect of his guns. "

The French in Chandernagore were not well prepared to stand a determinedsiege. The governor, Monsieur Renault, had none of the military genius ofa Dupleix or a Bussy. With him were only some eight hundred fighting men, of whom perhaps half were Europeans. Instead of concentrating his defenseon the fort, he scattered his men about the town, leaving the weakestpart of his defenses, the eastern curtain, insufficiently manned. 

He believed that Admiral Watson would find it impossible to bring hisbiggest ships within gunshot, and fancied that by sinking some vessels atthe narrowest part of the river he would keep the whole British fleetunemployed--a mistake that was to cost him dear. 

By the night of March fourteenth Clive had driven in the outposts. Theimmediate effect of this was the desertion of two thousand Moors sent toRenault's assistance by Nandkumar the faujdar of Hugli. A continuousbombardment was kept up until the nineteenth, when Admiral Watson arrivedfrom Calcutta with the Kent, the Tyger, and the Salisbury. 

Next morning an officer was despatched in a boat to summon Renault oncemore to surrender. Rowing between the sunken vessels, whose masts showedabove water, he took soundings and found that with careful handling themen-o'-war might safely pass. Once more Renault refused to surrender. Hisoffer to ransom the fort was declined by the admiral, who the same nightsent the master of the Kent to buoy the channel. Two nights later, inpitch darkness, several English boats were rowed with muffled oars to thesunken vessels. Their crews fixed lanterns to the masts of these in sucha way that the light, while guiding the warships, would be invisible fromthe fort. 

Early next morning Clive captured the battery commanding the riverpassage, and the three British ships ran up with the tide. The Kent andTyger opened fire on the southeast and northeast bastions, and these twovessels bore the brunt of a tremendous cannonade from the fort. TheFrench artillery was well served, doing fearful damage on board theBritish vessels. On the Kent, save the admiral himself and onelieutenant, every officer was killed or wounded. One shot struck downCaptain Speke and shattered the leg of his son, a brave boy of sixteen, who refused to allow his wound to be examined until his father had beenattended to, and then bore the pain of the rough amputation of those dayswithout a murmur. 

Meanwhile Clive's men had climbed to the roofs of houses near the fort, which commanded the French batteries; and his musketeers poured in agalling fire and shot down the gunners at their work. As the walls of thebarracks and fort were shattered by the guns from the ships, the Sepoyscrept closer and closer, awaiting the word to storm. 

The morning drew on. Admiral Watson began to fear that when the tide fellhis big guns would be at too low a level to do further execution. Therewas always considerable rivalry between himself and Clive, fed by thestupid jealousy of some of the Calcutta Council. While Clive, foreseeingeven more serious work later, was anxious to spare his men, Watson wasequally eager to reap all possible credit for a victory over the French. 

As it happened, neither had to go to the last extremity, for abouthalf-past nine a white flag was seen flying from the fort. LieutenantBrereton of the Kent and Captain Eyre Coote from the land force were sentto arrange the surrender, and a little later the articles of capitulationwere signed by Admirals Watson and Pocock, and by Clive. 

Desmond was by no means satisfied with the part he played in the fight. In command of a company of Sepoys he was one of the first to rush theshore battery and take post under the walls of the barracks in readinessto lead a storming party. But, as he complained afterward to his friendCaptain Latham of the Tyger, the fleet had the honors of the day. 

"After all, you're better off than I am, " grumbled the captain. "Howwould you like to have your laurels snatched away? Admiral Pocock oughtto have remained on the Cumberland down the river and left the Tyger tome. But he didn't see the fun of being out of the fighting; and up hecame posthaste and hoisted his flag on my ship, putting my nose badly outof joint, I can tell you. Still, one oughtn't to grumble. It doesn'tmatter much who gets the credit so long as we've done our job. 'Tis allin the day's work. "

The victory at Chandernagore destroyed the French power in Bengal. But itturned out to be only the prelude to a greater event--an event which mustbe reckoned as the foundation stone of the British Empire in India. Itsprang from the character of Sirajuddaula. That prince was a crueldespot, but weak-willed, vacillating, and totally unable to keep afriend. One day he would strut in some vainglorious semblance of dignity;the next he would engage in drunken revels with the meanest and mostdissolute of his subjects. He insulted his commander-in-chief, Mir Jafar:he offended the Seths, wealthy bankers of Murshidabad who had helped himto his throne: he played fast and loose with everyone with whom he haddealings. His own people were weary of him, and at length a plot washatched to dethrone him and set Mir Jafar in his place. 

Mr. Watts, the British agent in Murshidabad, communicated this design toClive and the Council of Calcutta, suggesting that they should cooperatein deposing the vicious Nawab. They agreed, on the grounds that hisdishonesty and insolence showed that he had no real intention of abidingby the terms of his treaty, and that he was constantly interfering withthe French. A treaty was accordingly drawn up with Mir Jafar, in whichthe prospective Subah agreed to all the terms formerly agreed to bySirajuddaula. But Omichand, who was on bad terms with Mir Jafar and theSeths, threatened to reveal the whole plot to the Nawab and have Mr. Watts put to death, unless he were guaranteed in the treaty the paymentof a sum of money equivalent to nearly four hundred thousand pounds. 

Clive was so much disgusted with Omichand's double dealing that, thoughhe was ready to make him fair compensation for his losses in Calcutta, hewas not inclined to accede to his impudent demand. Yet it would bedangerous to refuse him point blank. He therefore descended to a trickwhich, whatever may be urged in its defense--the proved treachery ofOmichand, the customs of the country, the utter want of scruple shown bythe natives in their dealings--must ever remain a blot on a great man'sfame. 

Two treaties with Mir Jafar were drawn up; one on red paper, known as lalkagaz, containing a clause embodying Omichand's demand; the other onwhite, containing no such clause. Admiral Watson, with bluff honesty, refused to have anything to do with the sham treaty; it was dishonorable, he said, and to ask his signature was an affront. But his signature wasnecessary to satisfy Omichand. At Clive's request, it was forged by Mr. Lushington, a young writer of the Company's. The red treaty was shown toOmichand; it bought his silence; he suspected nothing. 

The plot was now ripe. Omichand left Murshidabad; Mr. Watts slipped away;and the Nawab, on being informed of his flight, wrote to Clive andWatson, upbraiding them with breaking their treaty with him, and set outto join his army. 

Clive left Chandernagore on June thirteenth, his guns, stores andEuropean soldiers being towed up the river in two hundred boats, theSepoys marching along the highway parallel with the right bank. Palti andKatwa were successively occupied by his advance guard under Eyre Coote. But a terrible rain storm on the eighteenth delayed his march, and nextday he received from Mir Jafar a letter that gave him no littleuneasiness. 

Mir Jafar announced that he had pretended to patch up his quarrel withthe Nawab and sworn to be loyal to him; but he added that the measuresarranged with Clive were still to be carried out. This strange messagesuggested that Mir Jafar was playing off one against the other, or atbest sitting on the fence until he was sure of the victor. It was seriousenough to give pause to Clive. He was one hundred and fifty miles fromhis base at Calcutta; before him was an unfordable river watched by avast hostile force. If Mir Jafar should elect to remain faithful to hismaster the English army would in all likelihood be annihilated. In thesecircumstances Clive wrote to the Committee of Council in Calcutta that hewould not cross the river until he was definitely assured that Mir Jafarwould join him. 

His decision seemed to be justified next day when he received a letterfrom Mr. Watts at Khulna. On the day he left Murshidabad, said Mr. Watts, Mir Jafar had denounced him as a spy and sworn to repel any attempt ofthe English to cross the river. On receipt of this news Clive adopted acourse unusual with him. He called a Council of War, for the first andlast time in his career. Desmond was in Major Killpatrick's tent when thesummons to attend the Council reached that officer. 

"Burke, my boy, " he said, "'tis a mighty odd thing. Mr. Clive is notpartial to Councils; has had enough of 'em at Madras first, and lately atCalcutta. D'you know, I don't understand Mr. Clive; I don't believe anyone does. In the field he is as bold as a lion, fearless, quick to seewhat to do at the moment, never losing a chance. Yet more than once I'venoticed, beforehand, a strange hesitation. He gets fits of the dumps, broods, wonders whether he is doing the right thing, and is as touchy asa bear with a sore head. Well, 'tis almost noon; I must be off; we'll seewhat the Council has to say. "

Desmond watched the major almost with envy as he went off to thismomentous meeting. How he wished he was a little older, a little higherin rank, so that he too might have the right to attend! He lay back inthe tent wondering what the result of the Council would be. 

"If they asked for my vote, " he thought, "I'd say fight;" and then helaughed at himself for venturing to have an opinion. 

By and by Major Killpatrick returned. 

"Well, my boy, " he said, "we've carried our point, twelve against seven. "

"For fighting?"

"No, my young firebrand; against fighting. You needn't look so chopfallen. There'll be a fight before long; but we're going to run no risks. We'll wait till the monsoon is over and we can collect enough men tosmash the Subah. "

"Was that Colonel Clive's decision?"

"'Twas, indeed. But let me tell you, there was a comical thing to startwith. Lieutenant Hayter, one of Watson's men, was bid to the Council, butthe nincompoop was huffed because he wasn't allowed precedence of theCompany's captains. These naval men's airs are vastly amusing. He tookhimself off. Then Mr. Clive put the case; fight at once, or wait. Againstthe custom, he himself voted first--against immediate action. Then heasked me and Grant in turn; we voted with him. 'Twas Eyre Coote's turnnext; he voted t'other way, and gave his reasons--uncommonly well, I mustadmit. He said our men were in good spirits, and had been damped enoughby the rains. The Frenchman Law might come up and join the Nawab, andthen every froggy who entered our service after Chandernagore woulddesert and fight against us. We're so far from Calcutta 'twould bedifficult to protect our communications. These were his reasons. Iwatched Clive while Coote was speaking; he stuck his lips together andstared at him; and, have you noticed? he squints a trifle when he lookshard. Well, the voting went on, and ended as I said--twelve againstimmediate action, seven for. "

"How did the Bengal men vote?"

"I'm bound to say, for--except Le Beaume. 'Twas the Madras men whooutvoted 'em. "

"Well, with all respect, sir, I think the opinion of the Bengal men, whoknow the people and the country, ought to have outweighed the opinion ofstrangers. Still, it would be difficult to oppose Colonel Clive. "

Further conversation was cut short by the arrival of a messengersummoning Desmond to attend the colonel. 

"Where is he?" he asked. 

"Under a clump of trees beyond the camp, sir. He's been there by himselfan hour or more. "

Desmond hurried off. On the way he met Major Coote. 

"Hullo, Burke, " cried the major; "you've heard the news?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry for it. "

"All smoke, my dear boy, all smoke. Colonel Clive has been thinking itover, and has decided to disregard the decision of the Council and crossthe river at sunrise tomorrow. "

Desmond could not refrain from flinging up his hat and performing otherantics expressive of delight; he was caught in the act by Clive himself, who was returning to his tent. 

"You're a madcap, Burke, " he said. "Come to my tent. "

He employed Desmond during the next hour in writing orders to theofficers of his force. This consisted of about nine hundred Europeans, two hundred Topasses, a few lascars, and some two thousand Sepoys. Eightsix-pounders and two howitzers formed the whole of the artillery. Amongthe Europeans were about fifty sailors, some from the king's ships, somefrom merchantmen. Among the latter were Mr. Toley and Bulger, whoseexcellent service in capturing the Good Intent had enforced their requestto be allowed to accompany the little army. 

Shortly before dawn on June twenty-second Clive's men began to cross theriver. The passage being made in safety, they rested during the hothours, and resumed their march in the evening amid a heavy storm of rain, often having to wade waist-high the flooded fields. Soon after midnightthe men, drenched to the skin, reached a mango grove somewhat north ofthe village of Plassey: and there, as they lay down in discomfort tosnatch a brief sleep before dawn, they heard the sound of tom toms andtrumpets from the Nawab's camp three miles away. 

"'Tis a real comfort, that there noise, " remarked Bulger as he stirredhis campfire with his hook. Desmond had come to bid him good night. "Ay, true comfort to a sea-goin' man like me. For why? 'Cos it makes me feelat home. Why, I don't sleep easy if there en't some sort o'hullabaloo--wind or wave, or, if ashore, cats a-caterwaulin'. No, Mr. Subah, Nawab, or whatsomdever you call yourself, you won't frighten BillBulger with your tum-tum-tumin'. I may be wrong, Mr. Burke, which I neveram, but there'll be tum-tum-tum of another sort tomorrer. "

The grove held by Clive's troops was known as the Laksha Bagh--the groveof a hundred thousand trees. It was nearly half a mile long and threehundred yards broad. A high embankment ran all round it, and beyond thisa weedy ditch formed an additional protection against assault. A littlenorth of the grove, on the bank of the river Cossimbazar, stood a stonehunting box belonging to Sirajuddaula. Still farther north, near theriver, was a quadrangular tank, and beyond this a redoubt and a mound ofearth. The river there makes a loop somewhat like a horseshoe in shape, and in the neck of land between the curves of the stream the Nawab hadplaced his intrenched camp. 

His army numbered nearly seventy thousand men, of whom fifty thousandwere infantry, armed with matchlocks, bows and arrows, pikes and swords. He had in all fifty-three guns, mounted on platforms drawn by elephantsand oxen. The most efficient part of his artillery was commanded byMonsieur Sinfray, who had under him some fifty Frenchmen fromChandernagore. The Nawab's vanguard consisted of fifteen thousand menunder his most trusty lieutenants, including Manik Chand and Mir Madan. Rai Durlabh, the captor of Cossimbazar, and two other officers commandedseparate divisions. 

Dawn had hardly broken on June twenty-third, King George's birthday, whenMir Madan with a body of picked troops, seven thousand foot, fivethousand horse, and Sinfray's artillery, moved out to the attack withgreat clamor of trumpets and drums. The remainder of the Nawab's armyformed a wide arc about the north and east of the English position. Nearest to the grove was Mir Jafar's detachment. 

The English were arranged in four divisions, under Majors Killpatrick, Grant and Coote, and Captain Gaupp. These had taken position in front ofthe embankment, the guns on the left, the Europeans in the center, theSepoys on the right. Sinfray's gunners occupied an eminence near the tankabout two hundred yards in advance of the grove, and made such good playthat Clive, directing operations from the Nawab's hunting box, deemed itprudent to withdraw his men into the grove, where they were shelteredfrom the enemy's fire. The Nawab's troops hailed this movement with loudshouts of exultation, and, throwing their guns forward, opened a stillmore vigorous cannonade, which, however, did little damage. 

If Mir Madan had had the courage and dash to order a combined assault, there is very little doubt that he must have overwhelmed Clive's army bysheer weight of numbers. But he let the opportunity slip. Meanwhile Clivehad sent forward his two howitzers and two large guns to check Sinfray'sfire. 

Midday came, and save for the cannonading no fighting had taken place. Clive left the hunting box, called his officers together, and gave ordersthat they were to hold their positions during the rest of the day andprepare to storm the Nawab's camp at midnight. He was still talking tothem when a heavy shower descended, the rain falling in torrents for anhour. Wet through, Clive hastened to the hunting lodge to change hisclothes. 

Scarcely had he departed when the enemy's fire slackened. Theirammunition, having been left exposed, had been rendered almost entirelyuseless by the rain. Fancying that the English gunners had been equallycareless, Mir Madan ordered his horse to charge; but the Englishmen hadkept their powder dry and received the cavalry with a deadly fire thatsent them headlong back. At this moment Mir Madan himself was killed by acannonball, and his followers, dismayed at his loss, began a precipitateretreat to their intrenchments. 

Clive was still absent. The sight of the enemy retreating was too muchfor Major Killpatrick. Forgetting the order to maintain his position, hethought the moment opportune for a general advance. He turned to Desmond, who had remained at his side all the morning, and said:

"Burke, run off to Mr. Clive, and tell him the Moors are retreating, andI am following up. "

Desmond hurried away, and reached the hunting box just as Clive hadcompleted his change of clothes. He delivered his message. Then for thefirst time he saw Clive's temper at full blaze. With a passionateimprecation he rushed from the lodge, and came upon the gallant majorjust as he was about to lead his men to the assault. 

"What the deuce do you mean, sir, by disobeying my orders? Take your menback to the grove, and be quick about it. "

His tone stung like a whip. But Killpatrick had the courage of hisopinions, and Desmond admired the frank manner in which he replied. 

"I beg a thousand pardons, Mr. Clive, for my breach of orders, but Ithought 'twas what you yourself, sir, would have done, had you been onthe spot. If we can drive the Frenchmen from that eminence yonder wecommand the field, sir, and--"

"You're right, sir, " said Clive, his rage subsiding as easily as it hadarisen. "You're too far forward to retire now. I'll lead your companies. Bring up the rest of the men from the grove. "

Placing himself at the head of two companies of grenadiers he continuedthe advance. Sinfray did not await the assault. He hastily evacuated hisposition, retiring on the redoubt near the Nawab's intrenchments. It wasapparent to Clive that the main body of the enemy was by this time muchdemoralized, and he was eager to make a vigorous attack upon them whilein this state. But two circumstances gave him pause. To advance upon theintrenchments would bring him under a crossfire from the redoubt, and hehad sufficient respect for the Frenchmen to hesitate to risk losses amonghis small body of men. Further, the movements of the enemy's detachmentson his right caused him some uneasiness. He suspected that they were thetroops of Mir Jafar and Rai Durlabh, but he had no certain information onthat point, nor had he received a message from them. He knew that MirJafar was untrustworthy, therefore he was unwilling to risk a generalassault until assured that the troops on his flank were not hostile tohim. 

The doubt was suddenly resolved when he saw them check their movement, retire, and draw apart from the remainder of the Nawab's army. Giving theword at once to advance, he led his men to storm the redoubt and themound on its right. For a short time Sinfray and his gallant Frenchmenshowed a bold front; but the vigorous onslaught of the English struckfear into the hearts of his native allies; the news that the Nawab hadfled completed their panic; and then began a wild and disorderly flight;horsemen galloping from the field; infantry scampering this way and that;elephants trumpeting; camels screaming, as they charged through therabble. With British cheers and native yells Clive's men poured into theNawab's camp, some dashing on in pursuit of the enemy, others delaying toplunder the baggage and stores, of which immense quantities lay open totheir hand. 

By half-past five on that memorable twenty-third of June the battle wasover--the battle that gave Britain immediately the wealthiest province ofIndia and, indirectly, the mastery of the whole of that vast Empire. Theloss to the British was only twenty-three killed and fifty wounded. 

Clive rested for a while in Sirajuddaula's tent, where he found on hisinkstand a list of thirteen courtiers whom, even in that moment of direextremity, he had condemned to death. From a prisoner it was learned thatthe Nawab had escaped on a camel with two thousand horsemen, fleeingtoward Murshidabad. All day he had been in a state of terror andagitation. Deprived of his bravest officer Mir Madan, betrayed by his ownrelatives, the wretched youth had not waited for the critical moment. Himself carried to his capital the news of his defeat. 

Orders were given to push on that night to Daudpur, six miles north ofPlassey. But some time was occupied by Clive's commissariat in replacingtheir exhausted bullocks with teams captured in the Nawab's camp. Meanwhile Clive sent Eyre Coote forward with a small detachment to keepthe enemy on the run. Among those who accompanied him was Desmond, withBulger and Mr. Toley. Desmond hoped that he might overtake and captureMonsieur Sinfray, from whom he thought it likely he might wrestinformation about Mrs. Merriman and her daughter. Diggle had made use ofSinfray's house; it was not improbable that the Frenchmen knew somethingabout the ladies. As for the seamen, they were so much disgusted at thetameness of the enemy's resistance that they were eager for anything thatpromised activity and adventure. Their eagerness was no whit diminishedwhen Desmond mentioned what he had in his mind. 

"By thunder, sir, " said Bulger, "give me the chanst and I'll learn themounseer the why and wherefore of it. And as for Diggle--well, I may bewrong, but I'll lay my share o' the prize money out o' the Good Intentthat he's hatchin' mischief, and not far off neither. Show a leg, mateys. "

Chapter 30: In which Coja Solomon reappears: and gives our hero valuableinformation. 

Before Major Coote reached Daudpur he was overtaken by a horseman bearinga message from Clive. 

"A job for you, Burke, " said the major, after reading the note. "Mr. Clive is annoyed at the Nawab's escape and thinks he may give us troubleyet if he can join hands with Law and his Frenchmen. I am to send youahead to reconnoiter. You've been to Murshidabad, I think?"

"No, only to Cossimbazar, but that is not far off. "

"Well, you know the best part of the road, at any rate. The colonel wantsyou to go with a small party to Murshidabad and find out whether theFrenchmen have come within reach. You'll have to go on foot: take careyou don't get into trouble. Pick your own men, of course. You must have arest first. "

"Two or three hours will be enough for me. If we start soon we shallreach Murshidabad before dawn, and with little risk. I'm to come back andreport, sir?"

"Of course. No doubt you will meet us on the way. "

On reaching Daudpur Desmond selected twenty Sepoys who knew the countryand ordered them to be ready to start with him at midnight. Bulger andMr. Toley he had already informed of his mission, and he found them morethan eager to share in it. Just after midnight the little party set out. A march of some four hours brought them to the outskirts of Murshidabad. Desmond called a halt, encamped for the remainder of the night in a groveof palmyras, and at dawn sent forward one of the Sepoys, disguised as aryot, to make inquiries as to what was happening in the town. 

It was near midday when the man returned. He reported that the Nawab hadgone to his palace, while the chiefs who had accompanied or followed himfrom the field of battle had shown their recognition that his cause waslost by deserting him and going to their own houses. He had heard nothingof the French. The Nawab, in order to ingratiate himself with the people, had thrown open his treasury, from which all and sundry were carrying offwhat they pleased. The city was in such a disturbed state that it wouldbe exceedingly unsafe for any stranger to enter. 

Desmond decided to remain where he was until nightfall, and then to skirtthe city and move northwards in the hope of learning something definiteof the movements of the French. Meanwhile he sent the man back to learnif anything happened during the day. 

In the evening the man returned again. This time he reported that MirJafar had arrived with a large force and taken possession of the Nawab'spalace of Mansurganj. Immediately after the traitor's arrivalSirajuddaula had collected all the gold and jewels on which he could layhands and fled with his women. Suspecting that the luckless Nawab wasmaking for Rajmahal in the hope of meeting Law there, Desmond made up hismind to follow. He struck his camp, marched all night, and soon afterdaybreak reached a village near the river some miles south of Rajmahal. 

He was surprised to find the village deserted. But passing a small house, he heard cries of distress, and going in he found the place full of smokefrom some straw that had been kindled, and a man tied by his thumbs to astaple in the wall. He recognized the man in a moment. It was CojaSolomon, Mr. Merriman's rascally agent of Cossimbazar. He was half deadwith pain and fright. Desmond cut him loose and hurried him out of thestifling room into the open, where Bulger revived him with copious dousesof water until he was sufficiently recovered to explain his unhappyplight. 

"God be praised!" exclaimed the Armenian fervently. "You were in time, sir. I was seeking safety. The Faujdar of Murshidabad villainouslyill-used me. He owes me much, but there is no gratitude in him. I sawthat neither my life nor my goods were safe, so I packed up whatvaluables I could and left with my servants, intending to go to Patna, where I have a house. I had just reached this village when I saw a bandof some fifty horsemen approaching from the other end, and fearing that Imight be set upon and plundered I hastily concealed my goods at the edgeof the tank hard by. Alas! it availed me nothing. My servants weredispersed, and the risaldar of the horsemen, a European, seized me andthrust me into this house, abandoned like all the rest, for the peoplefled before his approach, fearing he would burn and destroy. Then I wastied up as you saw, until I confessed where my valuables were hidden; oneof my servants must have betrayed me. The risaldar promised to release meas soon as I should confess: but instead of that he set fire to the strawout of pure villainy, for what could I do to him? I have been a goodfriend to the English. Sir, pursue that man: he must be a Frenchman. Iwill give you a quarter, nay, a third of my goods, if you recover them. "

"That is impossible, Khwaja. I've only twenty men on foot: what is theuse of pursuing fifty on horseback? Your friendship for the British hascome, I fear, a little too late. "

The Armenian wrung his hands in despair, whining that he was a ruinedman. Then his tone changed; was there not still a chance? He explainedthat, a few hours before his capture, he had met a man who had recognizedhim as the agent for Mr. Merriman. The man said that he was a servant ofSurendra Nath Chuckerbutti and was on his way to meet Clive Sahib, carrying a letter to him from his master. But he was worn out, havingcome on foot a day and a night without rest. Coja Solomon unblushinglyconfessed that, while the man slept at midday, he had taken the letterfrom him and read it. 

"Why did you do that?"

"I thought it would be safer with me, for every one knows--"

"Yes, that'll do, Khwaja; go on with your story. "

"The letter was written at Malda, a village on the other side of theriver, and the writer, Surendra Nath, informed Mr. Clive that the wifeand daughter of Mr. Merriman were in his house there, and asked him tosend a party to bring them away. Naturally, sir, I was pleased to find--"

"Go on with your story, " cried Desmond impatiently, all excitement atcoming upon the track of the ladies at last. 

"It was while I was reading the letter that the horsemen came up. Therisaldar took it from me, read it, and questioned me. His face changed. He smiled evilly, and from the questions he asked me, and from what Iheard him say to his followers, he has gone to Malda, with a design totake these ladies. "

"Stay, Khwaja, what was he like?"

"He was a tall man, with scars on his face, and on his right hand he worea black glove. "

"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Desmond. 

His look of trouble and anxiety did not escape the Armenian. 

"It is but a little since he left me, " he said. "If you make your way tothe village--it is three coss on the other side of the river--you maycapture him, sir, as well as regain my property, a third of which isyours. "

"But how--how, man?" cried Desmond impatiently. "How can we overtake himon foot?"

"He will have to ride near to Rajmahal to find a ford, sir. He will crossthere, and ride back down the river some five coss before he comes toMalda. "

"But could he not swim the river?"

"He could, sir, but it is a feat he is not likely to attempt, seeing thatthere is no need for haste. I implore you, sir, start at once. OtherwiseI am a ruined man; my old age will be spent in poverty and distress. "

"If he can not cross, how can I?" said Desmond. 

"There is sure to be a boat on the bank, sir, unless they have all beenseized by the Nawab, who, rumor says, is coming from Bhagwangola by riverto Rajmahal. "

Desmond felt uneasy and perplexed. He doubted whether his duty to Clivedid not forbid him to go in search of the ladies, and there was nopossibility of communicating in time with either Clive or Coote. Then itsuddenly occurred to him that pursuit of Diggle might well come withinhis duty. Diggle was in the service of the Nawab; it was possible that hewas even leading an advance guard of Law's Frenchmen. 

"Were there any other Europeans besides the risaldar among the horsemen?"he asked. 

"Two, sahib, and they were French. I suspect they were from the force ofLaw, sahib; he was, I know, at Patna a few days ago. "

Desmond hesitated no longer. His affection for Mr. Merriman prompted anattempt to save the ladies: his mission from Clive was to discover themovements of the French. If he set off on Diggle's track he might succeedin both. It was a risky adventure--to pursue fifty men under such aleader as Diggle, with only a score. But twice before he had triedconclusions with Diggle and come off best: why should fortune fail himagain?

Hurriedly explaining the situation to Mr. Toley and Bulger, he hastenedwith his men down to the river. There was no boat at the village ghat. Helooked anxiously up and down. On the opposite side he saw a longriverboat moored in a narrow backwater. He could only get it by swimming, and here the current ran so swiftly that to swim would be dangerous. Yeton the spur of the moment he was preparing to take to the water himselfwhen one of his men, a slim and active Sepoy, volunteered to go. 

"Good! I will give you ten rupees if you bring the boat across. You are agood swimmer?"

"The sahib will see, " replied the man, with a salaam and a smile. 

He took a kedgeree pot, an earthen vessel used for cooking, and firmlytied to it a stout bamboo some six feet long, so that the thicker end ofthe pole was even with the mouth of the vessel. The boat was slightlydown the stream. The man ran a little way upstream to a point where aspit of land jutted out into the river, his companions following quicklywith the pot. This they placed mouth downwards in the water. Then theSepoy mounted on top, launched himself on this novel buoy, and, holdingon to the pole, floated breast high in the water down with the current, dexterously steering himself with his legs to the point where the boatwas moored. Soon he reached the spot. He clambered into the boat and withrapid movements of the stern oar brought it to the other side, viewingwith beaming face the promised reward. 

While this was going on the sky had been darkening. A northwester wascoming up, and after his experience on the eve of Plassey, Desmond knewwhat that meant. He hastily embarked his men, and the boat started: butit had scarcely covered a third of the distance across the river when thewind struck it. Fortunately the sail was not up: as it was, theflat-bottomed boat was nearly swamped. Drenching rain began to fall. Theriver was lashed to fury: for three crowded minutes it seemed to Desmonda miracle that the boat was still afloat. The waves dashed over itssides; the men, blinded by the rain, were too much cowed to attempt tobail out. 

Desmond was at the helm; Bulger and Toley had an oar each; although onlya few yards distant, Desmond could scarcely see them through the peltingrain. Then the wind moderated somewhat: he peremptorily ordered the mento use their brass lotis {drinking vessel} to bale out the boat, anddetermined to turn the storm to account. 

With great difficulty he got the sail hoisted; and then the vessel randown the river at racing speed. The distance to Malda, as the Armenianhad told him, was six miles--four by river, two by land. By Diggle'sroute it was ten miles. The horsemen had had such a start of him that hefeared he could not overtake them in time. Still, the storm that nowhelped him would hinder them. If he survived the perils of the riverpassage he might even yet succeed. 

He was alive to the risks he ran. More than once, as the wind changed apoint, it seemed that the cranky craft must turn turtle. But she escapedagain and again, plunging on her headlong course. The Sepoys were sturdyenough fellows, but being unused to the water they cowered in the bottomof the boat, except when Desmond's stern command set them franticallybailing. 

Almost before it seemed possible they came in sight of a bend in theriver which one of the men, who knew the district, had described toDesmond as the nearest point to the village he sought. So rapid had thepassage been that Desmond felt that, if they could only land in safety, they might have gained considerably on Diggle's horsemen. The latter musthave felt the full effect of the gale: it was likely that they had takenshelter for a time. Desmond and his men were wet to the skin, but, profiting by the recollection of what had happened at Plassey, they hadkept their ammunition dry. 

At the bend the river presented a shelving beach, being at least twice aswide at this point during the rainy season as at other periods. Withouthesitation Desmond ran the nose of the boat straight at the beach: shecame to with a violent bump; the men tumbled out waist deep into thewater, and with shrill cries of relief scrambled ashore. 

No time was lost. Waiting only to inspect their muskets, Desmond at oncebegan the march, the band being led by the man who knew the country. Another man, a noted runner, formerly a kasid in the employment of theNawab of the Deccan, was sent in advance to find Surendra Nath's house, give him warning of Desmond's coming, and instruct him to have someone onthe lookout for the approach of the enemy, if Diggle were not, indeed, already in possession of the village. The rest pushed on with all speed. The storm had cleared the air: the rain had ceased, and though it wasunpleasant walking over the soppy ground, the march was much cooler thanit would otherwise have been. 

Desmond longed for a hill from which to get a view of the country. But, as almost everywhere in the valley of the Ganges, it was dead flat. Theparty was within a quarter of a mile of the village when the kasid camerunning back. He had found the Babu's house. From its flat roof a body ofhorse had been seen in the distance, nearly a coss away. Desmond at onceordered his men to double, and as they dashed into the village among thewondering people, the kasid pointed out Surendra Nath's house at the farend--a small two-storied building, surrounded by a wall and approachedthrough a rickety iron gateway. It was the first house to which theapproaching horsemen would come. 

A man in native dress was standing at the gate. At first Desmond did notrecognize him, but as he drew nearer he saw that it was Surendra Nathhimself, looking years older--weak, thin, sunken-eyed, little like thesleek, well-fed Babu Desmond had last seen in Calcutta. 

"Are the ladies safe?" asked Desmond, yards ahead of his men. 

"Yes, sir, quite safe, " replied Surendra Nath, trembling. 

"Thank God for that! Go in, Babu: tell them we are here to protect them. "

While speaking he had eagerly scanned the surroundings. On each side ofthe sodden track that did duty for a road there was a mango grove. Desmond directed Toley to take four men to one side, and Bulger four mento the other, and place themselves among the trees. When the first threefiles of the horsemen should have passed through, the seamen were to givethe word to fire; then, taking advantage of the inevitable confusion, torush with their men to the house. Desmond himself meanwhile, with theremaining twelve, set to work to strengthen the defenses. Theseproceedings were watched with amazement by the villagers, who, men, women, and children, stood in groups, discussing in shrill tones themovements of these energetic strangers. 

There was a small veranda to the house. This was wrenched away by mainforce. The posts and other parts of the woodwork were carried to thegateway and piled up as rapidly as possible to form a rough barricade. Scarcely was this task half accomplished when the clanking of weapons washeard in the distance, soon accompanied by the swashing of horses' hoofson the drenched soil. 

Desmond coolly ordered his men to proceed with the work. A minute laterthere was a sharp discharge of musketry, followed by cries, shouts, andthe sound of galloping horses. The villagers scuttled away shrieking. Immediately afterward Bulger and Toley with their eight men sprang fromcover and made a dash for the wall. 

"Muskets first!" shouted Desmond. 

The muskets were pitched over: then the men scrambled up, Desmond and hisSepoys assisting them to get across. Almost the first to drop down intothe compound was Bulger, whose hook had proved, not for the first time, of more service than a sound left arm. Once over himself, he used hishook to haul the Sepoys after him, with many a vigorous "Yo, heave ho!"

"All aboard, sir, " he cried, when the last of the men was within thewall. "I may be wrong, but I lay my button hook 'tis now all hands torepel boarders; and only two cutlasses among us--mine and Mr. Toley's. What ho, mateys! who cares--"

Desmond ordered four of his men to post themselves at the barricadedgateway: the rest he divided into two parties, and stationed behind thewall at each side. The wall was six feet high--too high to fire over; butas it was in a somewhat dilapidated condition there was no difficulty inknocking away several loose bricks at intervals, so as to make a roughand ready battlement. Desmond instructed the men to fire alternatelythrough the embrasures thus made. As soon as one had fired he was to fallback and reload as fast as possible while another man took his place. Bythis device, Desmond hoped to deceive the enemy for a time as to thenumber of the defenders in the compound. 

But it was not to be expected that the enemy could long be kept out, andin the last resort it would be necessary to retreat to the house. In viewof the presence of the ladies this was a step to be avoided if possible. It might indeed be the wiser course to surrender, for their sakes. As thethought struck Desmond he called to the Babu, who was keeping watch onthe roof. 

"Babu, " he said, "ask the ladies to occupy the least exposed room. Tellthem that if the enemy get over the wall I will try to make anarrangement with them, rather than provoke an attack on the house. "

The Babu disappeared. But a few moments later Phyllis Merriman, wearingthe costume of a native lady, came running out. 

"Mother bids me say, Mr. Burke, " she said, "on no account let suchconsiderations weigh with you. She says, fight to the last. We will riskanything rather than go back to captivity. You will beat them, Mr. Burke, won't you?"

"I shall do my best, Miss Merriman, " replied Desmond. "But pray go back:they may be here at any moment. I need not say how glad I am to find youwell. Pray tell Mrs. Merriman that we shall all do our best for her andyou. "

"I know you will. And my father?"

"He is distressed, of course, but clings to hope. Do, Miss Merriman, retire at once. I see the enemy coming from the grove. "

"Phyllis! Phyllis!" cried Mrs. Merriman from the house; "come in at once!

"Mr. Burke, send her in. Have no mercy on the wretches, I implore you. "

The girl walked back reluctantly. Unknown to Desmond, she went no fartherthan the doorway, where, just hidden from sight, she watched all thatfollowed. 

The enemy had clearly been nonplussed by their sudden check. There wereno British troops, as far as they knew, for many miles round, andconcerted resistance from the natives was unlikely. But they were nowemerging from the mango grove, a hundred yards away. They came on foot, leaving their horses out of musket range. 

Desmond's heart sank as he counted them. There were even more than he hadsupposed. They numbered fifty-four and several had no doubt been left incharge of the horses. Still, he felt that he had two advantages. Thefirst was his position behind the wall; the second, the fact that theenemy, unless they had obtained information from the villagers, could notknow what force they had to deal with. Their ignorance, of course, mustbe only temporary: if one of them should succeed in mounting the wall theweakness of the defense must immediately be seen. 

As the enemy, tall men in the costume of native cavalry, assembled bytwos and threes at the edge of the grove, Desmond noticed three Europeansleave the main body and advance some way into the open. It was with aflush of indignation and a fierce resolve to bring him at last to bookthat Desmond recognized one of them as Diggle. With his companions hewalked at a safe distance completely round the building. 

For some time they halted at the back, carefully scanning the position. Here the wall approached the house much more closely than in the front, and no one could mount it without being fully exposed to fire from theupper windows. After his examination, Diggle returned with the two men, whom from their appearance Desmond judged to be Frenchmen, to the mainbody, and sent off half a dozen men toward the other end of the village. While they were gone one of the Frenchmen seemed to Desmond to beexpostulating with Diggle: but the latter only laughed and waved hisgloved hand in the direction of the house. 

The messengers soon returned, dragging with them three of the villagers. These Diggle took aside separately and questioned: it was clear toDesmond that he was ascertaining the strength of the garrison. Apparentlysatisfied, he divided his force into three parts; the largest, consistingof some forty men, remained at the edge of the grove; the two smallerproceeded to the right and left of the back of the house. One was incommand of a Frenchman, but the Frenchman who had expostulated withDiggle had apparently refused to have anything to do with the affair: heheld himself aloof, and by and by disappeared into the grove. 

Diggle's evident intention was to weaken the garrison by forcing Desmondto divide his already too small force. He had to detach eight of hismen--three to the windows and five to the wall--leaving only fourteen, including Bulger and Toley, to meet the rush in front. 

It was not long in coming. Diggle did not wait to parley. Taking a musketfrom one of his men he raised it to his shoulder and fired at a Sepoy, whose head just showed above the gate. The man raised his hand to hisbrow and fell back with a sharp cry--a bullet had plowed a furrow throughhis scalp. Desmond checked his men as they were about to fire in reply:but when, in the rush that followed, the enemy came within thirty yards, he gave the word, and seven muskets flashed forth across the barricade. 

The attacking party were coming forward in close order, and five of themen fell. But the rest sprang forward with shrill yells, Diggle, who wasuntouched, urging them on. Even the fire of Desmond's second rank failedto check them. Two or three dropped; others were soon swarming up thewall; and though the defenders with clubbed muskets struck savagely attheir heads and hands as they appeared above the coping, if one drewback, another took his place: and the wall was so long that at severalpoints there were gaps between Desmond's Sepoys where the enemy couldmount unmolested. 

Desmond, having discharged his two pistols, disposing of one of theassailants with each shot, was in the act of reloading when Diggle leapedinto the compound, followed by two of his men. Shouting to Bulger, Desmond threw the pistols and rammer on the ground behind him, and, drawing his sword, dashed at the three intruders, who were slightlywinded by the charge and their exertions in scaling the wall. 

Desmond could never afterward remember the details of the crowded momentsthat followed. There were cries all around him: behind, the stridentvoice of Mr. Toley was cheering his men to repel the assault at the backof the house: at his side Bulger was bellowing like a bull of Bashan. Butall this was confused noise to him, for his attention was wholly occupiedwith his old enemy. His first lunge at Diggle was neatly parried, and thetwo, oblivious of all that was happening around them, looked full intoeach other's eyes, read grim determination there, and fought with a coldfury that meant death to the first that gave an opening to his opponent'ssword. 

If motive counted, if the right cause could always win, the issueadmitted of no doubt. Desmond had a heavy score to pay off. From the timewhen he had met Diggle in the street at Market Drayton to his lastencounter with him at the Battle of the Carts, he had been the mark ofhis enmity, malice, spite, trickery. But Desmond thought less of his ownwrongs than of the sorrow of his friend, Mr. Merriman, and the harrowingwretchedness which must have been the lot of the ladies while they werein Diggle's power. The man had brought misery into so many lives that itwould be a good deed if, in the fortune of war, Desmond's sword could ridthe world of him. 

And Diggle, on his side, was nerved by the power of hate. Baseless aswere his suspicions of Desmond's friendship with Sir Willoughby Stokes, he felt that this boy was an obstacle. Ever since their paths had crossedhe had been conscious that he had to do with a finer, nobler nature thanhis own: and Desmond's courage and skill had already frustrated him. Ashe faced him now, it was with the feeling that, if this boy were killed, a bar would be removed from his career. 

Thus, on either side, it was war to the death. What Desmond lacked inskill and experience he made up for by youth and strength. The twocombatants were thus equally matched: a grain in the scale might decidethe issue. But the longer the fight lasted the better were Desmond'schances. He had youth in his favor. He had led a hard life: his muscleswere like iron. The older man by and by began to flag: more than once hisguard was nearly beaten down: nothing but his great skill inswordsmanship, and the coolness that never deserted him, saved him fromthe sharp edge of Desmond's blade. 

But when he seemed almost at the end of his strength, fortune suddenlybefriended him. Bulger, with his clubbed musket and terrible iron hook, had disposed of the two men who leaped with Diggle into the compound; butthere were others behind them; three men dropped to the ground close by, and, making a simultaneous rush, bore Bulger back against Desmond, hampering his sword arm. 

One of Desmond's Sepoys sprang to the rescue, but he was too late to stemthe tide. A blow from a musket stock disabled Bulger's right arm; he losthis footing; as he fell, his hook, still active, caught Diggle's leg andbrought him to the ground, just as, taking advantage of the diversion, hewas making exultantly what he intended for a final lunge at Desmond. Hefell headlong, rolling over Bulger, who was already on the ground. 

How the end came Desmond did not clearly see. He knew that he was besetby three of Diggle's men, and, falling back before them, he heard thevoice of Phyllis Merriman close by, and felt his pistols thrust into hishands. She had slipped out of the doorway, picked up the weapons as theylay where Desmond had flung them, completed the loading, and advancedfearlessly into the thick of the fray. At one and the same moment Desmondfired upon his enemies and implored the brave girl to go back. 

Then suddenly there was a lull in the uproar. Bulger was upon his feet. Diggle's men paused to gaze at their prostrate leader. Then every man ofthem was scrambling pell mell over the wall, yelling as the stocks of theSepoys' muskets sped them on their flight. 

"What is it?" asked Desmond. 

Bulger pointed to Diggle, among the fallen. 

"He've gone to his account, sir, which I may be wrong, but the Almightyhave got a long black score agen him. "

"How did it happen?"

Bulger lifted his hook. 

"'Twas that there Diggle as was the why and wherefore o' this littleornament, sir, and 'twas only right he should be paid for what he done. We fell down, him and me; I was under. He hoisted himself on his hands toget free, and I lifted my hook, sir, and caught him a blow under thechin. If it didn't break his neck, sir, my name en't Bill Bulger, whichI'm sorry for his poor wicked soul all the same. "

Phyllis had her hands clasped about Desmond's arm. 

"Is he dead?" she asked in a voice of awe. 

"Come away, " said Desmond quietly, leading her toward the house. "Let usfind your mother. "

Chapter 31: In which friends meet, and part: and our hero hints a proposal. 

The fight was over. It was Diggle's quarrel; neither the Frenchmen northe natives had any concern in it, and when their leader was dead theyhad no more interest in continuing the struggle. They drew off; the wearydefenders collected the dead and attended to the wounded; and Desmondwent into the house. 

"God bless you, Mr. Burke!" said Mrs. Merriman, tears streaming from hereyes as she met him and clasped his hands. "You are not hurt?"

"Just a scratch or two, ma'am: nothing to trouble about. "

But the ladies insisted on bathing the two slight wounds on head and armwhich in the heat of the fight he had not noticed. And then Mrs. Merrimantold him all that had happened since the day he left them in such merryspirits at Khulna. How they had been trapped by Diggle, pretending to bea Monsieur de Bonnefon: how he had conveyed them to the house of hisfriend Sinfray: how after many months their whereabouts had been revealedto Surendra Nath by one of his numerous relatives, a man who had adistant cousin among Sinfray's servants: how the Babu, displayingunwonted energy, had come with a number of friends and fallen unawaresupon their captors, afterward taking them to a house of his father's inthis village: how the old man and his son had both been stricken withjungle fever, and the father died, and when the Babu lay helpless andunconscious on his sickbed they had found no means of communicating withtheir friends. 

Mrs. Merriman shuddered as she spoke of the terrors of their captivity. They had been well treated, indeed; Monsieur de Bonnefon, or Diggle, asshe afterward learned to call him, had visited them several times andseen that their wants were supplied. But their enforced seclusion andinactivity, their dread of the unknown, their uncertainty as to whatmight have befallen Mr. Merriman, had told heavily upon their health andspirits. Rumor brought news of the tragedy of the Black Hole: they heardthat the few survivors were prisoners of the Nawab; and they feared theworst. From Surendra Nath they learned that they need not despair; andsince then they had lived on in the hope that, when the Babu hadrecovered from his illness, he would find some means of restoring them tothe husband and father from whom they had so long been parted. 

"Surendra Nath has a heart of gold, Mr. Burke, " said Mrs. Merriman inconcluding her story. "Poor man! he has been very ill. We must dosomething to show our gratitude for his devotion when we get back toCalcutta. "

Desmond then in his turn told them all that had happened since theirdisappearance. When they learned of the result of the Battle of Plassey, and that Clive was marching toward Murshidabad, they were eager to setoff at once. 

"Yes, ma'am, " said Desmond, "we shall start as soon as possible. I shallleave you to make your preparations. It may not be possible to startbefore night, the country being so disturbed, so that if you can sleepthrough the day you will be fitter for the journey. "

He left them, and going into the compound, found Bulger and Toley lookingwith curiosity at the body of Diggle. 

"Hi, sir!" said Bulger as Desmond came up to them: "this here bit o'velvet is explained at last. Mr. Toley, he slit it with his cutlass, sir, and never did I see a man so down in the mouth when he knowed what wasunder it. 'T'ent nothing at all, sir; just three letters; and what for hewent and burnt them three letters into the back of his hand 'twould beata Daniel to explain. 

"'F u r, ' sir, that's what they spells; but whether 'tis rabbit skin orfox I can't say, though 'tis most likely fox, knowing the man. "

Desmond stooped and looked at the unclad right hand. The letters F U Rwere branded livid below the knuckles. 

"He was always quoting Latin, Bulger, " he said. "'Fur' is a Latin word:it means 'thief. '"

"Which I might have knowed it, sir, only I think as how the man that didthe stampin' might have done it in plain English. I don't hold with theseforeign lingos, sir; there allers seems something sly and deceivin' aboutem. No right man 'ud ever think 'fur' meant 'thief'! Thief an' all, sir, he's dead. Mr. Toley and me'll put him away decent like: and it won't dohim no harm if we just says 'Our Father' over the grave. "

Desmond was turning away when three of his men came into the compound, two grasping a Frenchman by the arms, the third a black boy. The formerDesmond recognized as the man whom he had seen expostulating with Diggle;the latter was Scipio Africanus, looking scared and miserable. 

The men explained that, pursuing the fugitives, they had captured theirprisoners in the grove. The Frenchman at once addressed Desmond in brokenEnglish. He said that he had tried in vain to dissuade Diggle from hisattempt to capture the ladies. The party had been sent in advance byMonsieur Law to announce his coming. He was at Patna with a considerablebody of French corps designed for the support of the Nawab. As he wasspeaking the Frenchman caught sight of Diggle's exposed hand. He started, with an exclamation of surprise. Then in answer to Desmond's question herevealed the secret that had so long perplexed him. 

Seven years before, he said, in December, 1750, there was a brilliantforeigner named Peloti among the officers of Major de la Touche, a youngsoldier who had been singled out by Dupleix, the French Governor ofPondicherry, as a military genius of the first order. Peloti was with theFrench army when, less than four thousand in number, it fell upon thevast hordes of Nadir Jang near Gingi and won the battle that set MuzaffarJang on the throne of the Deccan and marked the zenith of Dupleix'ssuccess. The new Nawab, in gratitude to the French for the servicesrendered him, sent to Dupleix a present of a million rupees, and a casketof jewels worth half as much again. This casket was given to Peloti todeliver: he had abused his trust by abstracting the gem of thecollection, a beautiful diamond; and the theft being accidentallydiscovered, Dupleix in his rage ordered the thief to be branded on theright hand with the word 'fur, ' and drummed him out of the Frenchservice. 

The identity of Peloti with Diggle was not suspected by the French, andwhen Diggle a few months back offered his services to Bussy, theircommander, they were eagerly accepted, for his evident knowledge ofClive's movements and of affairs in Calcutta promised to be exceedinglyvaluable. None of the French then in the Deccan knew him: and though theyremarked his curious habit of wearing a fingerless glove on his righthand, no one connected it with the half-forgotten story of the stolendiamond. 

Desmond thanked the Frenchman for his information. 

"I am sorry to keep you a prisoner, Monsieur, " he said; "but I musttrouble you to return with me to Murshidabad. I can promise you goodtreatment from Colonel Clive. "

The Frenchman smiled, shrugged, and exclaimed: "Eh bien! La guerre est laguerre!"

Remembering Coja Solomon, Desmond asked Toley to search Diggle's bodybefore burying it. But nothing was found, except a little money. TheArmenian's property had evidently been left under guard in the grove, andwas doubtless, by this time, far away, in the possession of one or otherof Diggle's runagate followers. 

At nightfall the party set off. Closed chairs had been provided for theladies, and these were carried in the midst, Bulger on one side, Toley onthe other, and Desmond behind. One person whom Desmond had expected totake with him was absent: Scipio Africanus, on seeing the dead body ofhis master, had uttered one heartrending howl and fled. Desmond never sawhim again. He reflected that, villainous as Diggle had proved to be, hehad at least been able to win the affection of his servant. 

On the way they met Coja Solomon, who, on learning of the disappearanceof his valuables, heaped abuse upon Desmond and went away wringing hishands. Traveling slowly, by easy stages, and only by night, it took theparty three days to reach Murshidabad. Desmond found that Clive hadentered the city two days before and taken up his abode at the MurdaBagh. Mir Jafar had been accepted as Nawab, and nothing had been heard ofSirajuddaula. 

Desmond first sought out Major Coote. 

"By George, Burke!" said that officer, "Colonel Clive is in a toweringrage at your long absence; he expected your return long ago. And youought to know that Colonel Clive in a rage is not quite as mild as milk. "

"I'm afraid I must brave his anger, " said Desmond. "I've found Mr. Merriman's ladies. "

"You have?"

"Yes, and brought them back with me. And Peloti will trouble us no more:we had to fight for the ladies, and Bulger killed him. Won't Mr. Cliveforgive me?"

"I can't answer for Mr. Clive; no one can say what he will do. But I tellyou one thing: you'll put Warren Hastings' nose out of joint. You know hewas sweet on Merriman's daughter. "

"No, I didn't know it. I don't see what that has to do with me. "

"Don't you, egad!" said Coote with a laugh. "Sure, my boy, you'll see itbefore long. Well, I won't keep you to hear your story. Go to Mr. Cliveat once; and let me know what happens. "

Desmond found Clive in company with Mr. Watts, and Rai Durlabh, Mr. Scrafton and Omichand. He had some difficulty in obtaining admittance;only his representation that he bore important news prevailed with thedarwan. He learned afterwards that the great bankers, the Seths, had justleft the meeting, after it had been decided that, owing to the depletionof the treasury, only one-half of the immense sums promised to Clive andthe English in Mir Jafar's treaty could be paid at once, the remainder tofollow in three years. 

Desmond entered the room just in time to hear Clive say to Scrafton:

"It is now time to undeceive Omichand. "

Mr. Scrafton went up to the Sikh, and said quietly in Hindustani:

"Omichand, the red paper is a trick: you are to have nothing. "

Omichand stood for a moment dazed: then he fell back in a faint and wascarried by his attendants from the room. The shock had unhinged the poorman's reason: he lingered insane for eighteen months and died. 

At the time Desmond knew nothing of the deceit that had been practised onhim; but in the light of his after knowledge he understood the strangeexpression that clouded Clive's face as the old man was carried away: alook of pity mingled with contempt. Catching sight of Desmond, the greatsoldier flashed out:

"What do you mean, sir, by absenting yourself so long? I sent you inadvance because I thought you would be speedy. A snail would have gonemore quickly. "

"I am sorry, sir, " said Desmond; "I was unexpectedly delayed. I had gotnearly as far as Rajmahal when I learned the whereabouts of Mrs. Merriman. She was in hiding with Surendra Nath, one of Mr. Merriman'smen. I heard that Diggle--Peloti, sir--was about to attempt herrecapture, and I felt that you yourself, had you been in my place, wouldhave tried to save the ladies. "

Clive grunted. 

"Go on, sir, " he said. 

"We found the place just in time, sir. Diggle came up with a couple ofFrenchmen and a troop of native horse. We beat them off, and I havebrought the ladies here. "

"And forgotten your instructions?"

"No, sir. Monsieur Law was advancing from Patna: Diggle was coming aheadto inform the Nawab of his approach. But the whole country knows of yourvictory, and I fancy Monsieur Law will come no further. "

"And Diggle?"

"He was killed in the fight, sir. "

"Indeed! And how many did his men muster?"

"Nearly sixty, sir. "

"And yours?"

"A score of Sepoys, sir; but I had two seamen with me: Bulger, whom youknow; and Mr. Toley, an American, mate of one of Mr. Merriman's ships. They were worth a dozen others. "

Clive grunted again. 

"Well, go and tell Mrs. Merriman I shall be glad to wait on her. And lookhere, Burke: you may consider yourself a captain in the Company's servicefrom this day. Come now, I'm very busy: go and give Mrs. Merriman mymessage, and take care that next time you are sent on special service youare not drawn off on any such mad expedition. Come to me tomorrow. "

Desmond trod on air as he left the house. Clive's impulsiveness had neverbefore seemed to him such an admirable quality. 

As he went into the street he became aware, from the excited state of thecrowd, that something had happened. Meeting a Sepoy he inquired, andlearned that Sirajuddaula had just been brought into the city. Theluckless Nawab had arrived in his boat close to Rajmahal, and with therecklessness that characterized him, he had gone ashore while hisservants prepared a meal. Though disguised in mean clothes he had beenrecognized by a fakir, who happened to be at the very spot where helanded. The man had a grudge against him; his ears and nose had been cutoff some time before at the Nawab's order. Hastening into Rajmahal he hadinformed the governor, who sent a guard at once to seize the unhappyprince and bring him to Murshidabad. 

Before the next morning dawned Sirajuddaula was dead. Mir Jafar handedhim to his son Miran with strict orders to guard him. Acting on a mockingsuggestion of Miran, a courtier named Muhammad Beg took a band of armedmen to the Nawab's room, and hacked him to death. Next morning hismutilated body was borne on an elephant's back through the streets, andit was known to his former subjects that the prince who had ruled them soevilly was no more. Such was the piteous end, in his twenty-sixth year, of Sirajuddaula. 

Immediately on arriving in Murshidabad, Desmond had sent a kasid toCalcutta to inform Mr. Merriman that his wife and daughter had been foundand were safe. The merchant set off at once on horseback and arrived inthe midst of preparations for the return of the army to Calcutta. Desmondwas present at his meeting with the ladies; the scene brought a lump intohis throat; and his embarrassment was complete when one and alloverwhelmed him with praise and thanks. 

A few days later a long procession of three hundred boats, laden with themoney, plate and jewels that had been handed over to the British, set offwith colors flying, amid strains of martial music, down the river toCalcutta. Every man who had taken part in the expedition had a share ofthe vast treasure. Desmond found himself richer by three thousand pounds. 

Calcutta was en fete when the expedition returned. Desmond was surprisedto see how much had already been done to repair the ruin wrought by theNawab. A new city was rising from the ruins. Congratulations were pouredon the victors; and though now, as always, Clive had to contend with thejealousies of lesser men, there was none but had to admit that he was agreat man who deserved well of his country. 

Mr. Merriman at once completed the winding up of his business, begunmonths before. His recent troubles had much aged him; India was to himnow a hateful country, and he decided to return to England immediatelywith his wife and daughter. He tried to persuade Desmond to accompanyhim, but in vain. 

"'Tis very good of you, sir, " said Desmond warmly; "you have done so muchfor me. But Mr. Clive has made me a captain: his work is not yet done;and I do not feel that I can leave him until I have done something tojustify his confidence in me. "

"Well, boys will be boys. I have made a fortune here: I suppose you wantto do the same. 'Tis natural. But don't stay in India as long as I have. I don't want to lose sight of you. You have done me the best service manever did: you have avenged my brother and restored to me all that I helddearest in the world. I love you as a son, Desmond; I wish you were myson, indeed, my boy. "

Desmond looked a little uncomfortable. 

"May I venture--" he began hesitatingly; "do you think, in some years'time, if I get on here, I might--"

"Well?"

"Do you think I might--in short, that I might have a chance of becomingyour son, sir?"

"Eh? Is that it? Mr. Warren Hastings asked me the same question the otherday, Desmond. You can't both have her, you know. What does Phyllis say?"

"I--I haven't asked her, sir. "

"Quite right. You're only a boy. Well, Hastings is to remain as assistantto Mr. Scrafton, our new agent at Murshidabad. You remain asassistant--or is it rival, eh--to Mr. Clive. You're both out of the way. Phyllis may prefer Bulger. "

"Bulger?"

"Yes. Didn't you know? Phyllis has taken a fancy to him; that hook of hisappears to be a most fascinating feature; and he will accompany us home. "

Desmond laughed a little awkwardly. 

"I hope--" he began. 

"He won't hook her? But there, I mustn't make sport of such a seriousmatter. Go on as you have begun, my dear lad, and I promise you, when youcome home, that if Phyllis hasn't found someone already to her liking, you shall have all the influence I can exert with the minx. "

"Thank you, sir: I couldn't ask for more. There's another thing: do youthink you could do anything for Mr. Toley? He's a capital fellow. "

"I know it. I have anticipated you. Toley is appointed captain of theJane, an Indiaman that arrived the other day; her captain died of scurvyon the way out. She'll sail for England next week; we go with her; and sodoes that villain Barker, who'll get his deserts when he reaches London. The Good Intent is broken up; her interloping is over for good and all. 

"But come, my boy, sure 'tis time we dressed: Admiral Watson likespunctuality, and I promise you he'll give us a capital dinner. A word inyour ear: Phyllis is to sit between you and Hastings. You can't eat him, at any rate. "

A week later Desmond went down to the Company's ghat to see the Janesail. Mr. Toley in his brand new uniform looked more melancholy thanever, and Phyllis Merriman made a little grimace when she saw for thefirst time the captain under whose charge she was to sail for home. 

"Don't be alarmed, " said Desmond, laughing. "The sadder he looks, Ibelieve the happier he is. Silas Toley is a fine seaman and a truegentleman. --

"I wonder if we shall ever meet again, Miss Merriman?"

"I wonder, Mr. Burke. "

"I shall hear about you, I hope. "

"Dear me; it is very unlikely. Father hates putting pen to paper. 'Tisfar more likely I shall hear of you, Mr. Burke, doing terrible thingsamong these poor Indians--and tigers: I am sure you must want to shoot atiger. "

"You shall have my first skin--if I may send it. "

"Mamma will be charmed, I am sure; though indeed she may have too many ofthem, for we have the same promise from--let me see--Mr. Lushington, andMr. Picard, and Mr. Hastings, and--"

"All aboard!" sang out a voice from the deck of the vessel. 

Phyllis gave Desmond her hand, and looked at last into his eyes. What heread in hers filled him with contentment. She ran across the plank andjoined her father and mother, to whom Desmond had already said hisadieux. At the last moment Bulger came up puffing, a miscellaneouscollection of curiosities dangling from his hook. 

"Goodby, sir, " he said, giving Desmond a hearty grip. Then he shut oneeye and jerked his head in the direction of the vessel. "Never you fear, sir: I'll keep my weather eye open. Missy have taken an uncommon fancy tothis here little fishhook o' mine, and 'tis my belief I'll keep herhanging on to it, sir, nevertheless and notwithstandin' and all that, till you comes home covered with gore and glory. I may be wrong. "

He tumbled on deck. Then amid cheers, with flags flying and handkerchiefswaving, the good ship moved from the ghat into the swelling river. 

Chapter 32: In which the curtain falls to the sound of wedding bells: andour hero comes to his own. 

It was a mellow day in October 1760, a little more than six years sincethe day when Market Drayton gave rein to its enthusiasm in honor ofClive. From a flagstaff newly erected on the roof of the Four Alls on theNewport Road, a square of bunting flapped in the breeze. Inside the innthe innkeeper was drawing a pint of ale for his one solitary customer, ashambling countryman with a shock of very red hair, and eyes of innocentblue. 

"There, that makes a quart, Tummus Biles, and 'tis as much as your turniphead can safely carry. "

He passed the can across the bar on a hook that projected from a woodensocket in his sleeve. 

"Why, now, Mr. Bulger, " said Tummus, the tranter, "what fur do you go furto miscall me like other fowk? I've been miscalled ever since that day Idrove a stranger into Market Drayton six year ago. I mind me he had a redfeather in his cap, and not knowing my name was plain Tummus, he calledme Jehu, he did, and I never forgot it. Ay, and I tell ya what, Mr. Bulger: it took me two year to find out why he give me such an uncommonname. I mind I was sittin' by a hayrick of Mr. Burke's--that was longafore he was lamed by that terrible horse o' his--and ponderin' on thatheathen name, when all at once it comed to me like a flash o' lightnin'. 

"'Jehu!' says I to myself. 'I've got ya at last. ' Ya see, when thatstranger saw me, I were drivin' a horse. Well, I says to my horse, 'Gee-ho!' says I. Not knowing my true chrisom name, the stranger takes upmy words an' fits 'em to me. 'Gee-ho!' says I; 'Gee-ho!' says he; onlybein' a kind o' furriner he turns it into 'Jehu'; an' the name fits meuncommon. Hee hee!"

"I may be wrong, " said Bulger, "but 'tis my belief 'Hee haw!' would fityou a big sight better. But hark! en't them the bells a-ringin'?"

The two hastened to the door, and stood looking down the road towardMarket Drayton. From the distance came the faint sounds of a merry peal. By and by a four-horsed open carriage with outriders appeared on thecrest of the hill. Amid the dust it raised another could be seen, andbehind this a long line of vehicles. Every coachman's whip was decoratedwith a wedding favor. The cavalcade approached rapidly. As the firstcarriage drew nearer Bulger became more and more excited, and when itdashed past the inn he raised his hook and shouted "Hurray! hurray!" withthe full force of his lungs. 

"Give 'em a cheer, Tummus, " he cried. "Hee haw will do if you knows nobetter. Hurray for Major Desmond Burke and his madam--the purtiest gal Iever did see, east or west. Hurray for her father and mother: there theyare, with old squire an' the major's mother. And there's Mr. Clive, allalone by himself 'cos his leg's stiff wi' rheumatics; but he would cometo see the deed done, which I may be wrong, but the new King George'llmake him a live lord afore he's much older. 

"Open your mouth, Tummus, an' if you hee haw loud enough, I'll draw youanother pint for nothing. "

Desmond, now a major, had returned home in company with Clive. During thethree years that had passed since he witnessed the sailing of the Jane hehad seen much service. He had been with Colonel Forde when that finesoldier expelled the French from the northern Sirkars. He was with thesame officer when he thrashed the Dutch at Biderra. He had been in closetouch with Clive when these successful operations were planned, and thenearer he saw him, the more he admired the great man's courage in takingrisks, promptitude in dealing with sudden emergencies, sagacity in seeingto the heart of a difficult situation. Thus, during those three years, hegained much knowledge of the science of war, and much experience indealing with men. He became rich also, not by questionable means, but byreaping the legitimate rewards of good and faithful service. 

Before leaving India, Desmond learned of changes that had happened athome. His brother had been thrown by a young and mettlesome horse, and sobadly trampled that he must remain a helpless invalid for the rest of hislife. Sir Willoughby Stokes, even before he heard of the death of hisnephew Peloti, had made Desmond his heir. Mr. Merriman had bought anestate near his father's old friend, and settled down to the life of acountry gentleman. A year after his return, Job Grinsell, the landlord ofthe Four Alls, had been sentenced to a long term of imprisonment forpoaching, and Mr. Merriman had no difficulty in persuading Sir PhilipChetwode to let his inn to Bulger. 

After an interview with Mr. Merriman, Desmond found the courage to put toPhyllis the question which he had not ventured to ask before she leftIndia. What the answer was may be inferred from the fact that SirWilloughby insisted on the wedding taking place at once. It was time forthe return of his old enemy the gout, he said; he was going to Buxton toend his days, and wished to see the Hall in the hands of his heir beforehe left. 

Mr. Burslem, Desmond's old schoolmaster, performed the ceremony, andClive, though suffering from rheumatism, came down for the occasion. Theonly familiar form that Desmond missed was that of old Dickon, who haddied a few months after Desmond's departure from home. 

Desmond settled down for a time at the Hall, cheering his mother'sdeclining years, repaying good for ill to his invalid brother, andwinning golden opinions from all his neighbors high and low. He eagerlywatched the further career of his old hero, now Lord Clive; learned toadmire him as statesman as well as soldier; sympathized with him throughall the attacks made upon him; and mourned him sincerely when, in 1774, the great man, preyed upon by an insidious disease, died by his own hand. 

Five years later he felt the East calling, bought a commission, andsailed with General Sir Eyre Coote, to take part in the "frantic militaryexploits, " as some one called them, of Warren Hastings against Haidar Aliand Tippu in Mysore. He came home a colonel, and was made a baronet forhis services in the war. Finally retiring from public life, he lived forthirty years longer on his estate, happy in the careers of his two sons, who became soldiers like himself. He died, an old man, in the year afterWaterloo, at which his eldest grandson, a lieutenant in the guards, behaved with a gallantry that attracted the notice of the Iron Duke. 

Visitors to Sir Desmond Burke's house were amused and interested to see abattered wooden stump with an iron hook hanging in a conspicuous place inthe hall amid tigers' heads, Indian weapons, and other trophies from theEast. 

"That?" Sir Desmond would say, in answer to their question. "Thatbelonged to one of the best friends I ever had, a fine old salt namedWilliam Bulger. I met him when I was sixteen, and buried him when I wasforty: and my wife and I have felt ever since a blank in our lives. Ifyou can put up with an old man's stories, I'll tell you something of whatBulger and I went through together, when I was a youngster with Clive inIndia. "