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Updated: June 20, 2025
The two paused, Fuzl Khan nervously fingering the knife he had taken from the sentinel on the bastion. The grunt was repeated; but the intruders remained still as death, and with a sleepy grumble the man who had been disturbed turned over on his charpoy, placed transversely across the deck, and fell asleep. All was quiet. Once more the two moved forward.
Deftly dodging the man's blind rush, he planted his bare feet firmly and threw his whole weight into a terrific body blow that sent the bigger man with a thud to the deck. Panting, breathless, trembling with fury, Fuzl Khan sprang to his feet, caught sight of the muskets, and tearing one from its fastenings raised it to his shoulder.
The new overseer seemed to take a delight in bullying him. Many a night, when he returned to the shed, his back was raw where the lash had cut a livid streak through his thin dhoti. His companions suffered in common with him, Fuzl Khan more than any. For days at a time the man was incapacitated from work by the treatment meted out to him.
Thus the strangers were separated as much as possible, and the number of Marathas on duty was never in excess of the number of fugitives; 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. Desmond arranged that he and Fuzl Khan should take alternate periods of eight hours on and four off.
Were they acting from the inclination for a rover's life, coupled with the hope of gain, or had they been jockeyed into mutiny by Fuzl Khan? Desmond could not tell, nor could he find out without betraying a knowledge of the plot. Then he remembered the Babu.
A friendly coil of rope near the taffrail gave him additional cover; but the night was so dark that he ran little risk of being perceived so long as the men remained stationary. He himself could barely see the tall form of the Gujarati dimly outlined against the sky. Crouching low, Desmond waited. When the Maratha joined the groups Fuzl Khan addressed him directly in a low firm tone.
It was clear that Fuzl Khan's first onslaught had failed; had he got home, the overseer, powerful as he was, must have been killed on the spot. In the darkness the Gujarati's knife had probably missed its aim. He had now two enemies to deal with, and but for intervention he must soon be overcome and slain.
The danger was that they might make the coast in the neighborhood 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. The northeast monsoon was already overdue.
The man had him at a disadvantage, for he was breathless from his tussle with Fuzl Khan; but at that moment a dark object hurtled through the air, striking this new antagonist at the back of the head, and hurling him a lifeless lump into the scuppers. Desmond looked round in wonderment: who among the crew had thus befriended him so opportunely?
"But you were the only man, Allah knows, who escaped the executioner." "Pig, and son of a pig!" cried Fuzl Khan, "I knew nothing of the plot. If any man says I did he lies. They did it without me; some evil jin must have heard their whisperings. They failed. They were swine of Canarese." "Do not let us quarrel," said Desmond.
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