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 sa
me 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 w
ater,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 foun
d 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.