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The crew's hesitation was but momentary; under Toley's sad gaze they sullenly flung down their weapons and went forward. Only then did the captain find speech. But it was to utter a fearful curse, ending with the name: "Diggle." Leaving Mr. Toley to bring the Good Intent up to Calcutta, Desmond hurried back in advance and remained in the town just long enough to inform Mr.
Toley's expression was never merry, and he was neither more nor less melancholy than usual; but Bulger's habitual cheerfulness seemed to have left him; his air was moody and downcast. How came they here? The Good Intent being an interloper, it was not at all likely that she had ventured to put in at Calcutta.
At the sight of Toley and his messmates of the Hormuzzeer, Bulger had let fall his musket and dropped to the ground, where he sat mopping his face and crying, "Go it, mateys!" Desmond felt a strange faintness, and leaned dizzily 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 had contrived to come up in time.
"Rare sport they'll have! I wouldn't be in Mr. Toley's shoes for something. 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; but having reasons of his own for making himself pleasant, he said, by way of opening a conversation: "You seem pleased at the idea of going to sea again, Mr. Bulger."
His head was burning and throbbing; his ears buzzed; his limbs ached; his whole frame was seized at moments with paroxysms of shivering which no effort could control. Unknown to himself the seeds of malarial fever had found a lodgment in his system. While listening to Toley's story, he had reclined on the ground. When he tried to rise, he was overcome by giddiness and nausea.
Once over himself, he used his hook 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 the wall. "I may be wrong, but I lay my button hook 'tis now all hands to repel boarders; and only two cutlasses among us mine and Mr. Toley's. What ho, mateys! who cares "
Slow to take fire, when Toley's anger was kindled it blazed with a devouring flame. The crowd of assailants dissolved as if by magic. Before the last of the crew of the Hormuzzeer, lascars and Europeans, had passed into the inclosure, the men of the Good Intent and their Bengali allies were streaming over and under the carts toward the open.
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