CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
*In which Mr. Diggle illustrates his argument; and there are strangedoings in Gheria harbour.*
The morning of the third day dawned--the last of the three allowedDesmond for making up his mind. When the other prisoners were loosedfrom their fetters and marched off under guard to their usual work, healone was left. Evidently he was to be kept in confinement with a viewto quickening his resolution. Some hours passed. About midday he heardfootsteps approaching the shed. The door was opened, and in theentrance Diggle appeared.
"You will excuse me," he said with a sniff, "if I remain on thethreshold of your apartment. It is, I fear, but imperfectly aired."
He pulled a charpoy to the door, and sat down upon it, as much outsideas within. Taking out his snuff-box, he tapped it, took a pinch,savoured 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 steadilyin the face.
"If you have come, Mr. Diggle," he said, "merely to repeat what you saidyesterday, let me say at once that it is 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. To-day 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 aremoments, look you, when the bonds of our friendship are put to a heavystrain. At those moments Angria is perhaps most himself, and I, perhaps,am most myself; which might prove to a philosopher that there is aradical antagonism between the Oriental and the Occidental character.Since my picture of the brighter side has failed to impress you, Ipropose to show you the other side--such is the sincerity of my desirefor your welfare. And 'tis no empty picture--'inanis imago,' as Ovidmight say--no, 'tis sheer 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, lean, broken figure of aHindu, his thin bare legs weighted with heavy irons. Ears, nose, upperlip were gone; his eyes were lit with the glare of madness; the parchedskin of his hollow cheeks was drawn back, disclosing a grinning mouthand yellow teeth. His arms and legs were like sticks; both hands hadlost their thumbs; his feet were twisted; straggling wisps of grey hairescaped from his turban. Standing there beside Diggle, he began to mopand 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 hisorgans and dimensions; he was rich, and of importance in his littleworld. To-day--but you have seen him: it boots not to attempt in wordsto say what the living image has already said. And within twenty-fourhours, unless you come to a better mind, even as that man is, so willyou 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;his fists 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 to-night, my brothers," he said in conclusion. "We have nolonger time. Before sunrise to-morrow we must be out of this evilplace. We must work, work, for life and liberty."
This night again the singer sang untiringly, the tom-tom accompanyinghim with its weird hollow notes. And in the blackness, Desmond workedas he had never worked before, plying his saw hour after hour, neverforgetting his caution, running no risks when he had warning of thesentry's approach. And hour after hour the shower of sawdust fellnoiselessly into the Babu's outspread dhoti. Then suddenly the beatingof the tom-tom ceased, the singer's voice died away on a lingering wail,and the silence of the night was unbroken save by the melancholy howl ofa distant jackal, and the call of sentry to sentry as at intervals theywent their rounds.
At midnight the guard was relieved. The new-comer--a tall, thin, lankyMaratha--arriving at Desmond's shed, put his head in at the littlewindow-space, and flashed his lantern from left to right more carefullythan the man whom he had just replaced. The nine forms lay flat orcurled up on their 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 asbefore from left to right. But as he did so, he felt upon his throat agrip as of steel. He struggled to free himself; his cry was stifled ereit was uttered; his matchlock fell with a clatter to the ground. He waslike a child in the hands of his captor, and when the Gujarati in afierce low whisper said to him: "Yield, hound, or I choke you!" hisstruggles ceased and 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. Itwas a pitch-dark night; nothing broke the blackness save the scatteredpoints of light from the sentries' lanterns. Stepping to the side of thehalf-garrotted Maratha, who was leaning passively against the shed, thesinewy hand of the Gujarati still pressed 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 learnt from Bulger how to tie a sailor's knot.
Scarcely had he bound the sentry's hands when he was joined by one ofhis fellow-prisoners, and soon seven of them stood with him in theshadow of the shed. The last man, the Gujarati, had held the rope whilethe Babu descended. There was no one left to hold the rope for him, buthe swung himself up to the roof and climbed down on the shoulders of oneof the Biluchis. Meanwhile the sentry, whose lantern had beenextinguished and from the folds of whose garments his flint andtinder-box had been taken, had now been completely trussed up, and layhelpless and perforce silent against the wall of the shed. From the timewhen the hapless man first felt the grip of the Gujarati upon his throatscarcely five minutes had elapsed.
Now the party of nine moved in single file, swiftly and silently ontheir bare feet, under the wall of the fort towards the north-eastbastion, gliding like phantoms in the gloom. Each man bore his burden:the Babu carried the dark lantern; one of the Marathas the coil of rope;the other the sentry's matchlock and ammunition; several had smallbundles containing food, secreted during the past three days from theirrations.
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. Atthe top, hardly distinguishable from the blackness of the sky, thesentinel was leaning against the parapet, looking out to sea. Many anight had he
held that post, and seen the stars, and listened to therustle of the surf; many a night he had heard the call of the sentrynext below, and passed it to the man on the bastion beyond; but never anight had he seen anything but the stars and the dim forms of vessels inthe harbour, heard anything but the hourly call of his mates and theeternal voice of the sea. He was listless, bemused. What was it, then,that made him suddenly spring erect? What gave him that strangeuneasiness? He had heard nothing, seen nothing, yet he faced round, andstood at the head of the steps with his back to the sea. The figuresprone below him felt that he was looking towards them. They held theirbreath. Both were on the topmost step but one; only a narrow spaceseparated them from the sentinel; they could hear the movement of hisjaws as he chewed his pan supari.[#] Thus a few moments passed.Desmond's pulse beat in a fever of impatience; every second wasprecious. Then the sentinel moved; his uneasiness seemed to be allayed;he began to hum a Maratha camp song, and, half turning, glanced oncemore out to sea.
[#] Nut of the areca palm wrapped in the leaf of the betel plant.
The moment was come. Silently Fuzl Khan rose to his feet; he sprangforward with the lightness, the speed, the deadly certainty of aThug[#]; his hand was on the man's throat. Desmond, close behind, had agag ready, but there was no need to use it. In the open the Gujaraticould exert his strength more freely than through the narrow window ofthe shed. Almost before Desmond reached 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'smatchlock, ran softly back, and summoned his companions. They camesilently up the steps. To fasten the rope securely to the gun-carriagewas the work of a few instants; then the Gujarati mounted the parapet,and, swarming down the rope, sank into the darkness. One by one the menfollowed; it came to the Babu's turn. Trembling with excitement andfear he shrank back.
[#] Name of a class of hereditary stranglers.
"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 theirenterprise was yet to 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 therough ground, the party set off towards the jetty. They kept as closeas possible to the wall, so that they would not be seen if a sentinelshould happen to look over the parapet; and being barefooted, the slightsound they might make would be inaudible through the never-ceasing swishof the surf. Their feet were cut by the sharp edges of the rocks; manya bruise they 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 struckthe jetty, 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 theBabu he whispered: "Now, Surendra Nath, you know what to do?"
"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 Babuplaced himself near the end of the jetty to keep guard. The twoMysoreans struck off thence obliquely for a few yards until they came toa rude open shed in which the Pirate's carpenters were wont to workduring the rains. From a heap of shavings they drew a small but heavybarrel. Carrying this between them they made their way with somedifficulty back towards the jetty, where they rejoined the Babu.Meanwhile the Biluchis had returned some distance along the path bywhich they had come from the fort, then turned off to the left, and cameto a place where a number of small boats were drawn up just above highwater. The boats were the ordinary tonis[#] of the coast, eachpropelled by short scull paddles. Moving quickly but with great cautionthe Biluchis collected the paddles from all these boats save one,carried them noiselessly down to the water's edge, waded a few yardsinto the surf, and setting down their burdens, pushed them gentlyseawards. They then returned to the one boat which they had not robbedof its paddle, and lay down beside it, apparently waiting.
[#] Small boats cut out of the solid tree, used for passing between theshore and larger vessels.
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 thewater-side, 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 ina few seconds the silent form of the sentinel on the bastion would befound, and the whole garrison would be sped to their pursuit. But atthis 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 manhis lot; man is but as a cork on the stream of fate. Not even when alow, half-strangled cry came to them across the water, out of theblackness that brooded upon the harbour, did any of the four give signof excitement. The Babu started, and rose to his feet shivering; theothers still squatted, mute and motionless as statues of ebony, neitherby gesture nor murmur betraying their consciousness that at any moment,by tocsin from the fort, a thousand fierce and relentless warriors mightbe launched 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 harbour and the manner of mooring the vessels there. He knew thatthe gallivats of the Pirate's fleet, lashed together, lay about eightyyards from the head of the jetty under the shelter of the fortress rock,which protected them from the worst fury of the south-west monsoon. Thegrabs lay on the other side of the jetty, some hundred and twenty yardstowards the river--except three vessels which were held constantly readyfor sea somewhat nearer the harbour mouth.
He had learnt, 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 harbour 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; w
hile 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 thewhole day during which Diggle had fondly imagined he was meditating onAngria's offer 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 mooredgallivats, Desmond struck out towards the farther end of the line ofvessels, swimming a noiseless breast stroke. Fuzl Khan followed him inequal silence a length behind. The water was warm. A few minutes'steady swimming brought them within twenty or thirty yards of the light.The hulls of the gallivats and their tall raking spars could now be seenlooming up out of the blackness. Desmond perceived that the light wason the outermost of the line, and, treading water for a moment, hecaught the low hum of voices coming from the after part of the gallivat.Striking out to the left, still followed by the Gujarati, he swam alongpast the sterns of the lashed vessels until he came under the side ofthe one nearest the shore. He caught at the hempen cable, swarmed upit, and, the gallivat having but little freeboard, soon reached thebulwark. There he paused to recover his breath and to listen. Hearingnothing, he quietly slipped over the side and lay on the maindeck. In afew seconds he was joined by his companion. In the shadow of thebulwarks the two groped their way cautiously along the deck. PresentlyDesmond, who was in front, struck his foot against some object invisibleto him. There was a grunt beneath him. The two paused, Fuzl Khannervously fingering the knife he had taken from the sentinel on thebastion. The grunt was repeated; but the intruders remained still asdeath, and with a sleepy grumble the man who had been disturbed turnedover on his charpoy, placed transversely across the deck, and fellasleep.
All was quiet. Once more the two moved forward. They came to the ropesby which the vessel was lashed to the next in the line. For a momentDesmond stood irresolute; then he led the way swiftly and silently tothe deck of the adjacent gallivat, crossed it without mishap, and soacross the third. Fortunately both were sailors, accustomed to findingtheir way on ship-board in the night, as much by sense of touch as bysight. Being barefooted, only the sharpest ears, deliberately on thealert, could have detected them.
They had now reached the fourth of the line of vessels. It was by farthe largest of the fleet, and for this reason Desmond had guessed thatit would have been chosen for his quarters by the serang[#] in charge ofthe watch. If he could secure this man he felt that his hazardousenterprise would be half accomplished. This was indeed the pivot onwhich the whole scheme turned, for in no other way would it be possibleto seize the ten men on board the gallivats without raising such analarm as must shock fort, city, and harbour to instant activity. And itwas necessary to Desmond's plan, not only to secure the serang, but tosecure him alive.
[#] Head of a crew.
The gallivat was Angria's own vessel, used in his visits up-river to hiscountry house, and, during calm weather, in occasional excursions toSuvarndrug and the other forts on the sea-coast. As Desmond was aware,it boasted a large state-cabin aft, and he thought it very probable thatthe serang 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 threwthemselves down, again listening intently. From the last vessel of theline came the sound of low voices, accompanied at intervals by the clickof the oblong bone dice with which the men were gambling. This was aboon, for when the Indian, a born gambler, is engaged in one of hisgames of chance, he is oblivious of all else around him. But onAngria's gallivat there was no sound. Rising to a crouching position,so that his form could not be seen if any of the gamblers chanced tolook in his direction, Desmond slowly crept aft, halting at every fewsteps to listen. Still there was no sound. But all at once he caughtsight of a faint glow ahead; what was it? For a few seconds he waspuzzled. As he approached, the glow took shape; he saw that it was theentrance to the cabin, the sliding door being half open. Creeping tothe darker side, careful not to come within the radius of the light, hestood erect, and again listened. From within came the snores of asleeper. 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 thewall. Made of some vegetable substance, the oil gave off a pungentsmell. The lantern was no doubt carried by the serang in his rounds ofinspection; probably he kept it within reach at night; he must besleeping in the black shadow cast by it. To locate a sound is alwaysdifficult; but, as far as Desmond could judge, the snores came from theneighbourhood of the lantern 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 goin and see where the man is and how the cabin is arranged."
The Gujarati crouched in the shadow of the bulwarks. Desmond, droppingon hands and knees, crawled slowly forward into the cabin towards thelight. It was slightly above him, probably on a raised divan,--the mostlikely place for the serang to choose as his bed. In a few momentsDesmond's outstretched fingers touched the edge of the little platform;the light was still nearly two yards away. Still he was unable to seethe sleeper, though by the sound of his breathing he must be very near.Desmond feared that every movement 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,Desmond crawled backward as carefully as he had come.
At the moment of the discovery he had felt the eager boy's impulse tospring upon the sleeper at once, but although his muscles had beenhardened by a year of toil he doubted whether he had sufficient physicalstrength to make absolutely sure of his man; a single cry, the sound ofa scuffle, might be fatal. The Gujarati, on the other hand, a man ofgreat bulk, could be trusted to overpower the victim by sheer weight,and with his iron clutch to ensure that no sound came from him.Desmond's only fear indeed was that the man, as in the case of thesentinel on the bastion, might overdo his part and give him all toothorough a quietus.
He came to the entrance of the cabin. His appearance brought theGujarati to 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 tothe door and began to close the sliding panel. It gave a slight creak;the sleeper stirred; Desmond quickly pushed the panel home, and as hedid so the serang sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking in sleepysuspicion towards the lantern. While his knuckles were still at hiseyes Fuzl Khan was upon him. A brief scuffle, almost noiseless, on t
helinen covering of the divan; a heavy panting for breath; then silence.The Gujarati relaxed his grip on the man's throat; he made anotherattempt to cry out; but the firm fingers tightened their pressure andthe incipient cry was choked in a feeble gurgle. Once more the haplessserang tried to rise; Fuzl Khan pressed him down and shook himvigorously. He saw that it was useless to resist, and lay limp andhalf-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 analarm you will be lost. Answer my questions. Where is there some looserope on board?"
The man hesitated to reply, but a squeeze from the Gujarati decided him.
"There is a coil near the main mast," he said.
Desmond slipped out, and in a few seconds returned with several yards ofthin coir, a strong rope made of cocoa-nut fibre. 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 Gujarati 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 withtheir game. By the time they reached the door Desmond had turned thelantern to the wall, so that they saw only a dim shape within the cabin.Ganpat was secured before the last man became aware of what washappening. Hari hesitated at the threshold, hearing the sound of theslight scuffle caused by the seizure of his companion.
"Tell him to come in," whispered Desmond in the serang's ear,emphasizing the order by laying the cold blade of a knife against hiscollar-bone. Fuzl Khan had not yet finished trussing the other; as thelast man entered Desmond threw himself upon him. He could not prevent alow startled cry; and struggling together, the two rolled upon thefloor. The Maratha, not recognizing his assailant, apparently thoughtthat the serang had suddenly gone mad, for he merely tried to disengagehimself, speaking in a tone half angry, half soothing. But finding thatthe man grasping him had a determined purpose, he became furious withalarm, and plucking a knife from his girdle struck viciously at the formabove him. Desmond, with his back to the light, saw the blow coming.He caught the man's wrist, and in another moment the Gujarati came tohis assistance. Thus the last of the watchmen was secured and laidbeside 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 oneof the sleepers had been disturbed. To deal with them was an easiermatter. Leaving the bound men in the cabin, and led by the serang, whosefeet had been released, Desmond and Fuzl Khan visited each of thegallivats in turn. The sleeping men awoke at their approach, but theywere reassured by the voice of the serang, who in terror for his lifespoke to them at Desmond's bidding; and before they realized what washappening they were in the toils, helpless like the rest.
When the last of the watchmen was thus secured, Desmond crept to thevessel nearest to the shore and, making a bell of his hands, sent a lowhail across the surface of the water in the direction of the jetty. Hewaited anxiously, peering into the darkness, straining his ears. Fiveminutes passed, fraught with the pain of uncertainty and suspense. Thenhe caught the faint sound of ripples: he fancied he descried a dark formon the water; 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.