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. There, quite invisible from sea or land, they gently
lowered themselves into the water. Guided by the dim light which he had
noticed, and which he knew must proceed from one of the moored
gallivats, Desmond struck out towards the farther end of the line of
vessels, swimming a noiseless breast stroke. Fuzl Khan followed him in
equal silence a length behind. The water was warm. A few minutes'
steady swimming brought them within twenty or thirty yards of the light.
The hulls of the gallivats and their tall raking spars could now be seen
looming up out of the blackness. Desmond perceived that the light was
on the outermost of the line, and, treading water for a moment, he
caught the low hum of voices coming from the after part of the gallivat.
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. Hearing
nothing, he quietly slipped over the side and lay on the maindeck. In a
few seconds he was joined by his companion. In the shadow of the
bulwarks the two groped their way cautiously along the deck. Presently
Desmond, who was in front, struck his foot against some object invisible
to him. There was a grunt beneath him. 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. They came to the ropes
by which the vessel was lashed to the next in the line. For a moment
Desmond stood irresolute; then he led the way swiftly and silently to
the deck of the adjacent gallivat, crossed it without mishap, and so
across the third. Fortunately both were sailors, accustomed to finding
their way on ship-board in the night, as much by sense of touch as by
sight. Being barefooted, only the sharpest ears, deliberately on the
alert, could have detected them.
They had now reached the fourth of the line of vessels. It was by far
the largest of the fleet, and for this reason Desmond had guessed that
it would have been chosen for his quarters by the serang[#] in charge of
the watch. If he could secure this man he felt that his hazardous
enterprise would be half accomplished. This was indeed the pivot on
which the whole scheme turned, for in no other way would it be possible
to seize the ten men on board the gallivats without raising such an
alarm as must shock fort, city, and harbour to instant activity. And it
was necessary to Desmond's plan, not only to secure the serang, but to
secure him alive.
[#] Head of a crew.
The gallivat was Angria's own vessel, used in his visits up-river to his
country house, and, during calm weather, in occasional excursions to
Suvarndrug and the other forts on the sea-coast. As Desmond was aware,
it boasted a large state-cabin aft, and he thought it very probable that
the serang had appropriated this for his watch below.
Pausing a moment as they reached the vessel to make sure that no one was
stirring, Desmond and Fuzl Khan crept on to its deck and threw
themselves down, again listening intently. From the last vessel of the
line came the sound of low voices, accompanied at intervals by the click
of the oblong bone dice with which the men were gambling. This was a
boon, for when the Indian, a born gambler, is engaged in one of his
games of chance, he is oblivious of all else around him. But on
Angria's gallivat there was no sound. Rising to a crouching position,
so that his form could not be seen if any of the gamblers chanced to
look in his direction, Desmond slowly crept aft, halting at every few
steps to listen. Still there was no sound. But all at once he caught
sight of a faint glow ahead; what was it? For a few seconds he was
puzzled. As he approached, the glow took shape; he saw that it was the
entrance to the cabin, the sliding door being half open. Creeping to
the darker side, careful not to come within the radius of the light, he
stood erect, and again listened. From within came the snores of a
sleeper. Now he felt sure that his guess had been correct, for none but
the serang would dare to occupy the cabin, and even he would no doubt
have cause to tremble if his presumption should come to the Pirate's
ears.
Keeping his body as much in the shadow as possible, Desmond craned his
head forward and peeped into the cabin. He could see little or nothing;
the light came from a small oil lantern with its face turned to the
wall. Made of some vegetable substance, the oil gave off a pungent
smell. The lantern was no doubt carried by the serang in his rounds of
inspection; probably he kept it within reach at night; he must be
sleeping in the black shadow cast by it. To locate a sound is always
difficult; but, as far as Desmond could judge, the snores came from the
neighbourhood of the lantern and as from the floor.
He stepped back again into complete darkness. The Gujarati was at his
elbow.
"Wait, Fuzl Khan," said Desmond in the lowest of whispers. "I must go
in and see where the man is and how the cabin is arranged."
The Gujarati crouched in the shadow of the bulwarks. Desmond, dropping
on hands and knees, crawled slowly forward into the cabin towards the
light. It was slightly above him, probably on a raised divan,--the most
likely place for the serang to choose as his bed. In a few moments
Desmond's outstretched fingers touched the edge of the little platform;
the light was still nearly two yards away. Still he was unable to see
the sleeper, though by the sound of his breathing he must be very near.
Desmond feared that every movement might bring him into contact with the
man. Whatever the risk, it was necessary to obtain a little more light.
Slightly raising himself he found that, without actually mounting the
platform, he could just reach the lamp with outstretched fingers. Very
slowly he pushed it round, so that the light fell more directly into the
room. Then he was able to see, about four feet away, curled up on the
divan, with his arms under his head, the form of a man. There was no
other in the cabin. Having discovered all that he wished to know,
Desmond crawled backward as carefully as he had come.
At the moment of the discovery he had felt the eager boy's impulse to
spring upon the sleeper at once, but although his muscles had been
hardened by a year of toil he doubted whether he had sufficient physical
strength to make absolutely sure of his man; a single cry, the sound of
a scuffle, might be fatal. The Gujarati, on the other hand, a man of
great bulk, could be trusted to overpower the victim by sheer weight,
and with his iron clutch to ensure that no sound came from him.
Desmond's only fear indeed was that the man, as in the case of the
sentinel on the bastion, might overdo his part and give him all too
thorough a quietus.
He came to the entrance of the cabin. 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.
The light was still dim; but it occurred to Desmond that the glow,
increased now that the lantern was turned round, might attract the
attention of the gamblers on the gallivat at the end of the line. So,
while the Gujarati stood at the platform, ready to pounce on the sleeper
as a cat on a mouse if he made the least movement, Desmond tiptoed to
the door and began to close the sliding panel. It gave a slight creak;
the sleeper stirred; Desmond quickly pushed the panel home, and as he
did so the serang sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking in sleepy
suspicion towards the lantern. While his knuckles were still at his
eyes Fuzl Khan was upon him. A brief scuffle, almost noiseless, on the
linen covering of the divan; a heavy panting for breath; then silence.
The Gujarati relaxed his grip on the man's throat; he made another
attempt to cry out; but the firm fingers tightened their pressure and
the incipient cry was choked in a feeble gurgle. Once more the hapless
serang tried to rise; Fuzl Khan pressed him down and shook him
vigorously. He saw that it was useless to resist, and lay limp and
half-throttled in his captor's hands.
By this time Desmond had turned the lantern full upon the scene. Coming
to the man's head, while the Gujarati still held him by the throat, he
said, in low, rapid, but determined tones:
"Obey, and your life will be spared. But if you attempt to raise an
alarm you will be lost. Answer my questions. Where is there some loose
rope on board?"
The man hesitated to reply, but a squeeze from the Gujarati decided him.
"There is a coil near the main mast," he said.
Desmond slipped out, and in a few seconds returned with several yards of
thin coir, a strong rope made of cocoa-nut fibre. 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."
"Call Rama gently; bid him come here. Do not raise your voice."
The man obeyed. The clicking of the dice ceased, and in a few moments a
Maratha appeared at the doorway and entered blinking. No sooner had he
set foot within the cabin than he was seized by the Gujarati and gagged,
and then, with a rapidity only possible to the practised sailor, he was
roped and laid helpless on the floor.
"Call Sukharam," said Desmond.
The second man answered the summons, only to suffer the same fate. A
third was dealt with in the same fashion; then the fourth and fifth came
together, wondering why the serang was so brutally interfering with
their game. By the time they reached the door Desmond had turned the
lantern to the wall, so that they saw only a dim shape within the cabin.
Ganpat was secured before the last man became aware of what was
happening. Hari hesitated at the threshold, hearing the sound of the
slight scuffle caused by the seizure of his companion.
"Tell him to come in," whispered Desmond in the serang's ear,
emphasizing the order by laying the cold blade of a knife against his
collar-bone. Fuzl Khan had not yet finished trussing the other; as the
last man entered Desmond threw himself upon him. He could not prevent a
low startled cry; and struggling together, the two rolled upon the
floor. The Maratha, not recognizing his assailant, apparently thought
that the serang had suddenly gone mad, for he merely tried to disengage
himself, speaking in a tone half angry, half soothing. But finding that
the man grasping him had a determined purpose, he became furious with
alarm, and plucking a knife from his girdle struck viciously at the form
above him. Desmond, with his back to the light, saw the blow coming.
He caught the man's wrist, and in another moment the Gujarati came to
his assistance. Thus the last of the watchmen was secured and laid
beside his comrades.
Six of the men on board the gallivats had been disposed of. But there
still remained five, asleep until their turn for watching and dicing
came. So quietly had the capture of the six been effected that not one
of the sleepers had been disturbed. To deal with them was an easier
matter. Leaving the bound men in the cabin, and led by the serang, whose
feet had been released, Desmond and Fuzl Khan visited each of the
gallivats in turn. The sleeping men awoke at their approach, but they
were reassured by the voice of the serang, who in terror for his life
spoke to them at Desmond's bidding; and before they realized what was
happening they were in the toils, helpless like the rest.
When the last of the watchmen was thus secured, Desmond crept to the
vessel nearest to the shore and, making a bell of his hands, sent a low
hail across the surface of the water in the direction of the jetty. He
waited anxiously, peering into the darkness, straining his ears. Five
minutes passed, fraught with the pain of uncertainty and suspense. Then
he caught the faint sound of ripples: he fancied he descried a dark form
on the water; it drew nearer, became more definite.
"Is that you, sahib?" said a low voice.
"Yes."
He gave a great sigh of relief. The toni drew alongside, and soon five
men, with bundles, muskets, and the small heavy barrel, stood with
Desmond and the Gujarati on the deck of the gallivat.
CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
*In which seven bold men light a big bonfire; and the Pirate finds our
hero a bad bargain.*
Desmond's strongest feeling, as his companions stepped on board, was
wonder--wonder at the silence of the fort, the darkness that covered the
whole face of the country, the safety of himself and the men so lately
prisoners. What time had passed since they had left the shed he was
unable to guess; the moments had been so crowded that any reckoning was
impossible. But when, as he waited for the coming of the boat, his mind
ran over the incidents of the flight--the trussing of the sentry, the
wary approach to the bastion, the tragic fate of the sentinel there, the
stealthy creeping along the shore, the swim to the gallivats and all
that had happened since: as he recalled these things, he could not but
wonder that the alarm he dreaded had not already been given. But it was
clear that all was as yet undiscovered; and the plot had worked out so
exactly as planned that he hoped still for a breathing-space to carry
out his enterprise to the end.
There was not a moment to be wasted. The instant the men were aboard
Desmond rapidly gave his orders. Fuzl Khan and one of the Mysoreans he
sent to carry the barrel to Angria's gallivat. It contained da'ma.
They were to break it open, tear down the hangings in the cabin, smear
them plentifully, and set light to them from the lantern. Meanwhile
Desmond himself, with the rest of the men, set about preparing the
gallivat in which he was about to make his next move.
The lightest of the line of vessels was the one in which the watchmen
had been gambling. It happened that this, with the gallivat next to it,
had come into harbour late in the evening from a short scouting cruise,
and the sweeps used by their crews had not been carried on shore, as the
custom was. The larger vessel had fifty of these sweeps, the smaller
thirty. If pursuit was to be checked it was essential that none of them
should be left in the enemy's hands, and the work of carrying the fifty
from the larger to the smaller vessel took some time. There was no
longer the same need for quietness of movement. So long as any great
noise and bustle was avoided, the sentinels on the walls of the fort
would only suppose, if sounds reached their ears, that the watch on
board were securing the gallivats at their moorings.
When the sweeps had all been transferred Desmond ordered the prisoners
to be brought from Angria's cabin to the smaller vessel. The lashings
of their feet were cut in turn; each man was carefully searched,
deprived of all weapons, and escorted from the one vessel to the other,
his feet being then securely bound as before.
On board the smallest gallivat were now Desmond, five of his companions,
and eleven helpless Marathas. He had just directed one of the Biluchis
to cast loose the lashings between the vessels, and was already
congratulating himself that the main difficulties of his venture were
past, when he suddenly heard shouts from the direction of the fort.
Immediately afterwards the deep notes of the huge gong kept in Angria's
courtyard boomed and reverberated across the harbour, echoed at brief
intervals by the strident clanging of several smaller gongs in the town.
Barely had the first sound reached his ears when he saw a light flash
forth from the outermost bastion; to the left of it appeared a second;
and soon, along the whole face of the fort, in the dockyard, in the
town, innumerable lights dotted the blackness, some stationary, others
moving this way and that. Now cries were heard from all sides, growing
in volume until the sound was as of some gigantic hornets' nest awakened
into angry activity. To the clangour of gongs was added the blare of
trumpets, and from the walls of the fort and palace, from the hill
beyond, from every cliff along the shore, echoed and re-echoed an
immense and furious din.
For a few seconds Desmond stood as if fascinated, watching the
transformation which the hundreds of twinkling lights had caused. Then
he pulled himself together, and, with a word to the Biluchi who had
loosed the lashings, bidding him hold on to the next gallivat, he sprang
to the side of this vessel, and hurried towards Angria's. Fuzl Khan had
not returned; Desmond almost feared that some mishap had befallen the
man. Reaching the centre vessel, he peered down the hatchway, but
started back as a gust of acrid smoke struck him from below. He called
to the Gujarati. There was no response. For an instant he stood in
hesitation; had the man been overcome by the suffocating fumes filling
the hold? But just as, with the instinct of rescue, he was about to
lower himself into the depths, he heard a low hail from the vessel at
the end of the line nearest the shore. A moment afterwards Fuzl Khan
came stumbling towards him.
"I have fired another gallivat, sahib," he said, his voice ringing with
fierce exultation.
"Well done, Fuzl Khan," said Desmond. "Now we must be off. See, there
are torches coming down towards the jetty."
The two sprang across the intervening vessels, a dense cloud of smoke
following them from the hatchway of Angria's gallivat. Reaching the
outermost of the line, Desmond gave the word, the anchor was slipped,
the two Biluchis pressed with all their force against the adjacent
vessel, and the gallivat moved slowly out. Desmond ran to the helm, and
the Gujarati with his five companions seizing each upon one of the long
sweeps, they dropped their blades into the water and began to pull.
Desmond was all a-tingle with excitement and determination. The shouts
from the shore were nearer; the lights were brighter; for all he knew
the whole garrison and population were gathering. They had guessed that
an escape was being attempted by sea. Even now perhaps boats were
setting off, bringing rowers to man the gallivats, and oars to send them
in pursuit. If they should reach the vessels before the middle one had
burst into flame, he felt that his chances of getting away were small
indeed. When would the flame appear? It might check the pursuers,
throw them into consternation, confuse and delay the pursuit. Would the
longed-for blaze never show itself? And how slowly his gallivat was
moving! The rowers were bending to their work with a will, but six men
were but a poor crew for so large a vessel, and the progress it was
making was in fact due more to the still ebbing tide than to the frantic
efforts of the oarsmen. The wind was contrary; it would be useless to
hoist the sail. At this rate they would be half an hour or more in
reaching the three grabs anchored nearer the mouth of the harbour. The
willing rowers on their benches could not know how slowly the vessel was
moving, but it was painfully clear to Desmond at the helm; relative to
the lights on shore the gallivat seemed scarcely to move at all.
He called to Fuzl Khan, who left his oar and hurried aft.
"We must make more speed, Fuzl Khan. Release the prisoners' hands; keep
their feet tied, and place them among our party. Don't take an oar
yourself: stand over them ready to strike down any man who mutinies."
The Gujarati grunted and hurried away. Assisted by Surendra Nath, who,
being his companion on the rowing bench, had perforce dropped his oar,
he soon had the prisoners in position. Urging them with terrible
threats and fierce imprecations, he forced them to ply their oars with
long steady strokes. The way on the gallivat increased. There was not
a great distance now to be covered, it was unnecessary to husband their
strength, and with still more furious menaces Fuzl Khan got out of the
sturdy Marathas all the energy of which they were capable. The escaped
prisoners needed no spur; they were working with might and main, for
dear life.
Desmond had to steer by guesswork and such landmarks as were afforded by
the lights on shore. He peered anxiously ahead, hoping to see the dim
shapes of the three grabs; but this was at present impossible, since
they lay between him and the seaward extremity of the fort, where lights
had not yet appeared. Looking back he saw a number of torches flitting
along the shore; and now two or three dark objects, no doubt boats, were
moving from the further side of the jetty towards the gallivats. At the
same moment that he caught sight of these he saw at last, rising from
the gallivats, the thin tongue of flame hi had so long expected. But
now that it had come at last, showing that the work on board had been
thorough, he almost regretted it, for it was instantly seen from the
shore and greeted by a babel of yells caught up in different parts of
the town and fort. As at a signal the torches no longer flickered
hither and thither aimlessly, but all took the same direction towards
the jetty. The hunt was up!
Glancing round, Desmond suddenly gave the order to cease rowing, and
putting the helm hard down just avoided crashing into a dark object
ahead. The sweeps grated against the side of what proved to be one of
the grabs for which he had been looking. A voice from its deck hailed
him.
"Take care! Where are you going? Who are you?"
Desmond called up the serang. He dare not reply himself, lest his
accent should betray him.
"Tell him all is well. We have a message from the fort to the
_Tremukji_," he said in a whisper.
The serang repeated the words aloud.
"Well, huzur. But what is the meaning of the noise and the torches and
the blaze on the sea?"
"Tell him we have no time to waste. Ask him where the _Tremukji_ lies."
The man on the grab replied that she lay outside, a dozen
boat's-lengths. Desmond knew that this vessel, which had been launched
during his captivity, and in whose construction he had had a humble
part, had proved the swiftest in the fleet, although much smaller than
the majority of the Pirate's. 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."
"Then, when we come alongside and I give the word, you will tell him to
come aboard at once; we have a message from the fort for him."
Owing to the trend of the shore, the gallivat had been slowly nearing
the walls of the fort, and at this moment could not be more than a
hundred and fifty yards distant from them. But for the shouting on
shore the noise of the sweeps must by this time have been heard. In the
glow of the blazing vessels in mid channel the moving gallivat had
almost certainly been seen. Desmond grew more and more anxious.
"Hail the grab," he said to the serang as the vessel loomed up ahead.
"Eo, eo, _Tremukji_!" cried the man.
There came an answering hail. Then the serang hesitated; he was
evidently wondering whether even now he might not defy this foreigner
who was bearding his terrible master. But his hesitation was short. At
a sign from Desmond, Gulam the Biluchi, who had brought the serang
forward, applied the point of his knife to the back of the unfortunate
man's neck.
"I have a message from Angria Rao," he cried quickly. "Come aboard at
once."
The rowers at a word from Fuzl Khan shipped their oars, and the two
vessels came together with a sharp thud. The serang in charge of the
grab vaulted across the bulwarks and fell into the waiting arms of Fuzl
Khan, who squeezed his throat, muttered a few fierce words in his ear,
and handed him over to Gulam, who bundled him below. Then, shouting the
order to make fast, the Gujarati flung a hawser across to the grab. The
two men on board her obeyed without question; but they were still at the
work when Desmond and Fuzl Khan, followed by the two Mysoreans, leapt
upon them from the deck of the gallivat. There was a short sharp
scrimmage; then these guardians of the grab were hauled on to the
gallivat and sent to join the rowers on the main deck.
Desmond and his six companions now had fourteen prisoners on their
hands, and in ordinary circumstances the disproportion would have been
fatal. But the captives, besides having been deprived of all means of
offence, had no exact knowledge of the number of men who had trapped
them. Their fears and the darkness had a magnifying effect, and, like
Falstaff, they would have sworn that their enemies were ten times as
many as they actually were.