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Updated: June 11, 2025
Meanwhile the sentry, whose lantern had been extinguished and from the folds of whose garments its flint and tinderbox had been taken, had now been completely trussed up, and lay helpless and perforce silent against the wall of the shed. From the time when the hapless man first felt the grip of the Gujarati upon his throat scarcely five minutes had elapsed.
He could hear the Gujarati raging and storming on deck, and cries as of men in pain; then, as the grab came abreast of the smaller vessel, he became aware of what had happened. The mainmast of the gallivat had been struck by a shot and had gone by the board. Desmond hailed the Gujarati and told him to get three or four men to cut away the wreckage.
While the Gujarati laid the hapless man gently beside the gun that peeped through the embrasure of the parapet, Desmond picked up the sentinel's matchlock, ran softly back, and summoned his companions. They came silently up the steps.
Once on board her, and beyond reach of the guns of the fort, he might fairly hope to get clear away in spite of his miscellaneous crew. Giving to the Gujarati the order to go ahead, he questioned the serang. "What is the name of the serang in charge of the Tremukji?" "Pandu, sahib." "How many men are on board her?" "Three, sahib."
The Gujarati performed his work at the helm skilfully, and about five o'clock, when the sun was setting, casting a romantic glow over the long straggling settlement, the Tremukji ran to her anchorage among a host of small craft, within a few cable lengths of the vessels of Admiral Watson's squadron, which had arrived from Madras a few weeks before.
Seemingly he was taking up the thread where it had been dropped earlier in the night; what was it about? Desmond asked himself the question without much interest, and was again allowing his thoughts to rove when he caught the word "sahib," and then the word "Firangi" somewhat loudly spoken. Immediately afterwards there was a low hiss from the Gujarati, as of one warning another to speak lower.
When he came to the helm Fuzl Khan was alone: there was nothing to betray the fact that the plotters had, but little before, been gathered around him. The lookout, who had left his post to join the group, had returned forward, and was now being relieved, like the Gujarati himself. Desmond exchanged a word or two with the man, and was left alone at the wheel.
Then Desmond had a short and earnest talk with the Gujarati, who alone of the men had sufficient seamanship to make him of any value in deciding upon the next move. "What is to be done with the gallivat?" asked Desmond. "Scuttle her, sahib, and hoist sail on the grab." "But the rowers?" "Fasten them to the benches and let them drown.
But with the fall of night it dropped to a dead calm, a circumstance from which the Gujarati inferred that they were still a long way from the coast. When the stars appeared, however, and Desmond was able to get a better idea of the course to set, a slight breeze sprang up again from the west, and the grab crept along at a speed of perhaps four knots. It had been a lazy day on board.
Occasionally it was broken by the voice of one of the others; now and again there was a brief interval of silence; then the Gujarati began again. Desmond's thoughts were once more diverted to his own strange fate. Little more than a year before, he had been a boy, with no more experience than was to be gained within the narrow circuit of a country farm.
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