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Updated: May 31, 2025
Finding that his taunts provoked no reply, Diggle went on: "Time presses, my young friend. You will be logged a deserter from the Good Intent. 'Tis my fervent hope you never fall into the hands of Captain Barker; as you know, he is a terrible man when roused." Waving his gloved hand, he moved away. Desmond did not watch his departure.
It was this problem that had occupied him the whole day during which Diggle had fondly imagined he was meditating on Angria's offer of freedom. A few moments after their five companions had left them, Desmond and the Gujarati climbed with the agility of seamen along the ties of the framework supporting the jetty, until they reached a spot a yard or two from the end.
"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 travels again.
Bulger winked at his companions, and a hoarse titter went the round of the table. "Well," continued Bulger, "the supercargo do have a better time of it than 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!
Desmond had not had time before leaving the Good Intent to smarten himself up, and he stood there a tall, thin, sunburnt youth in dirty, tattered garments, doing his best to face the assembly with British courage. At the foot of the dais he paused and held out the captain's note. Diggle took it in silence, his face wearing the smile that Desmond knew so well and now so fully distrusted.
One person whom Desmond had expected to take with him was absent: Scipio Africanus, on seeing the dead body of his master, had uttered one heartrending howl and fled. Desmond never saw him again. He reflected that, villainous as Diggle had proved to be, he had at least been able to win the affection of his servant.
The rest, now a bare dozen, Bengalis though they were, presented still an undaunted front to the swarm that surged into the narrow space. The hot air grew hotter with the fight. To avoid being surrounded, the little band instinctively backed towards the edge of the nullah. Diggle exulted as they were pressed remorselessly to the rear.
He had better know nothing until we can either restore 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 has lost them. I feel sure we shall find them." "God grant it, my lad." "This will be my last trip, sahib, for my present master. He says I waste too much time on the river.
One more united heave, and it rolled over, dragging the other cart with it and splitting itself into a hundred fragments on the rocky bottom. Through the gap thus formed in the barricade sprang Diggle, with half a dozen men of the Good Intent and a score of Bengalis. Desmond gathered his little band into a knot in the center of the inclosure.
Even if the wind sprang up again there was small likelihood of escape. One or other of the pursuing vessels would almost certainly 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.
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