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Updated: June 11, 2025
The Babu started, and rose to his feet shivering; the others still squatted, mute and motionless as statues of ebony, neither by gesture nor murmur betraying their consciousness that at any moment, by tocsin from the fort, a thousand fierce and relentless warriors might be launched like sleuth hounds upon their track. Meanwhile, what of Desmond and the Gujarati?
Night and day he lay or sat in a wet skin; the air was alive with ants and other winged horrors, which settled on both food and drink, while the dust storms were so dense that candles had to be burned in mid-day. However he applied himself vigorously to Gujarati , the language of the country, and also took lessons in Sanskrit.
The Gujarati was soon up and relieved the serang at the wheel; the rest of the crew, haggard melancholy objects, were set to work to make things shipshape. Only the Babu remained below; he lay huddled in the cabin, bruised, prostrate, unable to realize that the bitterness of death was past, unable to believe that life had any further interest for him. Desmond's position was perplexing.
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.
Striking out to the left, still followed by the Gujarati, he swam along past the sterns of the lashed vessels until he came under the side of the one nearest the shore. He caught at the hempen cable, swarmed up it, and, the gallivat having but little freeboard, soon reached the bulwark. There he paused to recover his breath and to listen.
About six bells, as time would have been reckoned on the Good Intent, he was wakened by the Babu, with a message from the Gujarati desiring him to come on deck. "Is anything wrong, Babu?" he asked, springing up. "Not so far as I am aware, sahib. Only it is much hotter since I began my watch." Desmond had hardly stepped on deck before he understood the reason for the summons.
Overhead all was clear; but towards the land a dense bank of black cloud was rising, and approaching the vessel with great rapidity. It was as though some vast blanket were being thrown seawards. The air was oppressively hot, and the sea lay like lead. Desmond knew the signs; the Gujarati knew them too; and they set to work with a will to meet the storm.
Placing their bundles in the woodwork supporting the jetty, five members of the party the Biluchis, the Mysoreans, and the Babu stole away in the darkness. Desmond and the Gujarati were left alone. The Babu placed himself near the end of the jetty to keep guard.
The man hesitated to reply, but a squeeze from the Gujarati decided him. "There is a coil near the mainmast," he said. Desmond slipped out, and in a few seconds returned with several yards of thin coir, a strong rope made of cocoanut fiber. Soon the serang lay bound hand and foot. "What are the names of the men on the furthest vessel?" "They are Rama, Sukharam, Ganu, Ganpat, Hari."
His appearance brought the Gujarati to his side. "Remember, Fuzl Khan," he whispered, "we must keep the serang alive; not even 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 still farther inwards until the form of the sleeper could be distinctly seen.
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