haven Desmond desired to make. How long was this going to last?
Whither was he being carried? Without chart or compass he could take no
bearings, set no true course. It was a dismal prospect, and Desmond,
glowing as he was with the excitement of the fight, yet felt some
anxiety. Luckily, besides the provisions brought in their bundles by
the fugitives, there was a fair supply of food and water on board; for
although every portable article of value had been taken on shore when
the grab anchored in Gheria, it had not been thought necessary to remove
the bulkier articles. Thus, if at the worst the vessel were driven far
out to sea, there was no danger of starvation even if she could not make
port for several days.
But Desmond hoped that things would not come to this pass. Towards
nightfall, surely, the squall would blow itself out. Yet the wind
appeared to be gaining rather than losing strength; hour after hour
passed, and he still could not venture to quit the wheel. He was
drenched through and through with the rain; his muscles ached with the
stress; and he could barely manage to eat the food and water brought him
staggeringly by the serang in the intervals of the wilder gusts.
The storm had lasted for nearly ten hours before it showed signs of
abatement. Another two hours passed before it was safe to leave the
helm. The wind had by this time fallen to a steady breeze; the rain had
ceased; the sky was clear and starlit; but the sea was still running
high. At length the serang offered to steer while the others got a
little rest; and entrusting the wheel to him, Desmond and Fuzl Khan
threw themselves down as they were, on the deck near the wheel, and were
soon fast asleep.
At dawn Desmond awoke to find the grab labouring in a heavy sea, with
just steering-way on. The wind had dropped to a light breeze. 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
ship-shape. 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. Where was he? Perforce he had lost
his bearings. He scanned the whole circumference of the horizon, and
saw nothing but the vast dark ocean plain and its immense blue
dome--never a yard of land, never a stitch of canvas. He had no means
of ascertaining his latitude. During the twelve hours of the storm the
grab had been driven at a furious rate; if the wind had blown all the
time from the south-east, the quarter from which it had struck the
vessel, she must now be at least fifty miles from the coast, possibly
more, and north of Bombay. In the inky blackness of the night, amid the
blinding rain, it had been impossible to read anything from the stars.
All was uncertain, save the golden sheen of sunlight in the east.
Desmond's only course was to put the vessel about and steer by the sun.
She must thus come sooner or later in sight of the coast, and then one
or other of the men on board might recognize a landmark--a hill, a
promontory, a town. The danger was that they might make the coast in
the neighbourhood 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 north-east monsoon was already overdue. Its coming was usually
heralded by fitful and uncertain winds, varied by such squalls or storms
as they had just experienced.
The sea moderated early in the morning, and became continually smoother
until, as the sun went down, there was scarce a ripple on the surface.
The wind meanwhile had gradually veered to the south-west, and later to
the west, and the grab began to make more headway. 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. The crew had recovered from their
sickness, but there was nothing for them to do, and as Orientals they
were quite content to do nothing. Only the Babu remained off duty, in
addition to the watch below. Desmond visited him, and persuaded him to
take some food: but nothing would induce him to come on deck; the mere
sight of the sea, he said, would externalize his interior.
It was Desmond's trick at the wheel between eight and midnight. Gulam
Mahomed was on the look-out; the rest of the crew were forward squatting
on the deck in a circle round Fuzl Khan. Desmond, thinking of other
things, heard dully, as from a great distance, the drone of the
Gujarati's voice. He was talking more freely and continuously than was
usual with him; ordinarily his manner was morose; he was a man of few
words, and those not too carefully chosen. So prolonged was the
monotonous murmur, however, that Desmond by and by found himself
wondering what was the subject of his lengthy discourse; he even
strained his ears to catch, if it might be, some fragments of it; but
nothing came into distinctness out of the low-pitched drone.
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. What a gamut of adventure he had run through since then! He
smiled as he thought that none of the folks at Market Drayton would
recognize, in the muscular, strapping, sun-tanned seaman, the slim boy
of Wilcote Grange. His imagination had woven many a chain of incident,
and set him in many a strange place; but never had it presented a
picture of himself in command of as mixed a crew as was ever thrown
together, navigating unknown waters without chart or compass, a fugitive
from the chains of an Eastern despot. His quick fancy was busy even
now. He felt that it was not for nothing he had been brought into his
present plight; and at the back of his mind was the belief, founded on
his strong wish and hope, that the magnetism of Clive's personality,
which he had felt so strongly at Market Drayton, was still influencing
his career.
At midnight Fuzl Khan relieved him at the wheel, and he turned in. His
sleep was troubled. It was a warm night--unusually warm for the time of
year. There were swarms of cockroaches and rats on board; the
cockroaches huge beasts, three times the size of those that overran the
kitchen at home; the rats seeming as large as the rabbits he had been
wont to shoot on the farm. They scurried about with their little
restless noises, which usually would have had no power to break his
sleep; but now they worried him. He scared them into silence for a
moment by striking upon the floor; but the rustle and clipper-clapper
immediately began again.
After vain efforts to regain his sleep, he at length rose and went on
deck. He did not move with intentional quietness, but he was barefoot,
and his steps made no sound. It was a black night, a warm haze almost
shutting out the stars. As he reached the deck he heard low murmurs
from a point somewhere aft. He had no idea what the time was: Shaik
Abdullah had the water-clock, with which he timed the watches; and
Desmond's could not yet be due. Avoiding the spot where the
conversation was in progress, he leant over the bulwarks, and gazed idly
at the phosphorescent glow upon the water. Then he suddenly became
aware that the sounds of talking came from near the wheel, and Fuzl Khan
was among the talkers. What made the man so uncommonly talkative?
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. The experiences of the past year had quickened Desmond's wits;
with reason he had become more suspicious than of yore, and the
necessity to be constantly on his guard had made him alert, alive to the
least suggestion. Why had the speaker been hushed--and by Fuzl Khan?
He remembered the ugly rumours, the veiled hints he had heard about the
man in Gheria. If they were true, he had sold his comrades who trusted
him. They might not be true; the man himself had always indignantly
denied them. Desmond had nothing against him. So far he had acted
loyally enough; but then he had nothing to gain by playing his
fellow-fugitives false, and it was with this knowledge that Desmond had
decided to make him privy to the escape. But now they were clear of
Gheria. Fuzl Khan was free like the rest; he had no longer the same
inducement to play straight if his interest seemed to him to clash with
the general. Yet it was not easy to see how such a clashing could
occur. Like the others he was lost at sea; until land was reached, at
any rate, he could have no motive for opposition or mutiny.
While these thoughts were passing through Desmond's mind he heard a man
rise from the group aft and come forward. Instinctively he moved from
the side of the vessel towards the mainmast, and as the man drew near
Desmond stood so that the stout tree-trunk was between them. The man
went rapidly towards the bows, and in a low tone hailed the look-out,
whispering him a summons to join the Gujarati at the helm. The
look-out, one of the Marathas, left his post; he came aft with the
messenger, and, both passing on the same side of the vessel, Desmond by
dodging round the mast escaped their notice.
At the best, the action of Fuzl Khan was a dereliction of duty; at the
worst!--Desmond could not put his suspicions into words. It was clear
that something was afoot, and he resolved to find out what it was. Very
cautiously he followed the two men. Bending low, and keeping under the
shadow of the bulwarks, he crept to within a few feet of the almost
invisible group. 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.
CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH
*In which a mutiny is quelled in a minute; and our Babu proves himself a
man of war.*
Crouching low, Desmond waited. When the Maratha joined the group Fuzl
Khan addressed him directly in a low firm tone.
"We are all agreed, Nanna," he said. "You are the only man wanting to
our purpose. This is the fastest grab on the coast. I know a port
where we can get arms and ammunition; with a few good men (and I know
where they can be found), we can make a strong band, and grow rich upon
our spoils."
"But what about the sahib?"
"Wah! We know what these Firangi are like--at least the Angrezi.[#]
They have the heads of pigs; there is no moving them. It would be vain
to ask the young sahib to join us; his mind is set on getting to Bombay
and telling all his troubles to the Company. What a folly! And what an
injustice to us! It would destroy our chance of making our fortunes,
for what would happen? The grab would be sold; the sahib would take the
most of the price; we should get a small share, not enough to help us to
become rovers of the sea and our own masters."
[#] English.
"The sahib will refuse, then. So be it! But what then shall we do with
him?"
"He will not get the chance of refusing. He will not be told."
"But he is taking us to Bombay. How then can we work our will?"
"He thinks he is sailing to Bombay: he will really take us to Cutch."
"How is that, brother?"
"Does he know Bombay? Of a truth no. He is a boy: he has never sailed
these seas. He depends on us. Suppose we come in sight of Bombay, who
will tell him? Nobody. If he asks, we will say it is some other place:
how can he tell? We will run past Bombay until we are within sight of
Cutch: then truly I will do the rest."
The Maratha did not reply. The momentary silence was broken by Fuzl
Khan again.
"See! Put the one thing in the balance against the other: how does it
turn? On the one side the twenty rupees--a pitiful sum--promised by the
sahib: and who knows he will keep his promise? On the other, a tenth
share for each of you in the grab and whatsoever prey falls to it."
"Then the Babu is to have a share? Of a truth he is a small man, a hare
in spirit; does he merit an equal share with us? We are elephants to
him."
"No. He will have no share. He will go overboard."
"Why, then, what of the tenth share?"
"It will be mine. I shall be your leader and take two."
Desmond had heard enough. The Gujarati was showing himself in his true
colours. His greed was roused, and the chance of setting up as a pirate
on his own account, and making himself a copy of the man whose prisoner
he had been, had prompted this pretty little scheme. Desmond crept
noiselessly away and returned to his quarters. Not to sleep; he spent
the remainder of his watch below in thinking out his position--in trying
to devise some means of meeting this new and unexpected difficulty. He
had not heard what Fuzl Khan proposed ultimately to do with him. He
might share the Babu's fate: at the best it would appear that he had
shaken off one captivity to fall into the toils of another. He had
heard grim tales of the pirates of the Cambay Gulf; they were not likely
to prove more pleasant masters than the Marathas farther south, even if
they did not prefer to put him summarily out of the way. His presence
among them might prove irksome, and what would the death of a single
English youth matter? He was out of reach of all his friends; on the
_Good Intent_ none but Bulger and the New Englander had any real
kindness for him, and if Bulger were to mention at any port that a young
English lad was in captivity with the Pirate, what could be done?
Should the projected expedition against Gheria prove successful, and he
not be found among the European prisoners, it would be assumed that he
was no longer living; and even if the news of his escape was known, it
was absurd to suppose that all India would be searched for him.
The outlook, from any point of view, was gloomy. The Gujarati had
evidently won over the whole ship's company. Were they acting from the
inclination for a rover's life, coupled with 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. He alone had been excepted; the other men held him
in contempt; but despite his weaknesses, for which he was indeed hardly
accountable, Desmond had a real liking for him; and it was an unpleasant
thought that, whatever happened to himself, if the plot succeeded
Surendra Nath was doomed.
But thinking of this, Desmond saw one ray of hope. He had not been for
long the companion of men of different castes without picking up a few
notions of what caste meant. The Babu was a Brahman; as a Bengali he
had no claim on the sympathies of the others; but as a Brahman his
person to other Hindus was inviolable. The Marathas were Hindus, and
they at least would not willingly raise their hand against him. Yet
Desmond could not be certain on this point. During his short residence
in Gheria he had found that, in the East as too often in the West, the
precepts of religion were apt to be kept rather in the letter than in
the spirit. He had seen the sacred cow, which no good Hindu would
venture to kill for untold gold, atrociously overworked, and, when too
decrepit to be of further service, left to perish miserably of neglect
and starvation. It might be that although the Marathas would not
themselves lay hands on the Babu, they would be quite content to look
calmly on while a Mohammedan did the work.
At the best, it was Desmond and the Babu against the crew--hopeless
odds, for if it came to a fight the latter would be worse than useless.
Not that Desmond held the man in such scorn as the men of his own
colour. Surendra Nath was certainly timid and slack, physically weak,
temperamentally a coward: yet he had shown gleams of spirit during the
escape, and it seemed to Desmond that he was a man who, having once been
induced to enter upon a course, might prove both constant and loyal.
The difficulty now was that, prostrated by his illness during the storm,
he was not at his best; certainly in no condition to face a difficulty
either mental or physical. So Desmond resolved not to tell him of the
danger impending. He feared the effect upon his shaken nerves. He
would not intentionally do anything against Desmond's interest, but he
could scarcely fail to betray his anxiety to the conspirators. Feeling
that there was nobody to confide in, Desmond decided that his only
course was to feign ignorance of what was going on, and await events
with what composure he might. Not that he would relax his watchfulness;
on the contrary he was alert and keen, ready to seize with manful grip
the skirts of chance.
Perhaps, he thought, the grab might fall in with a British ship. But
what would that avail? The grab with her extraordinary sailing powers
could show a clean pair of heels to any Indiaman, however fast, even if
he could find an opportunity of signalling for help. Fuzl Khan, without
doubt, would take care that he never had such a chance.
Turning things over in his mind, and seeing no way out of his
difficulty, he was at length summoned to relieve the Gujarati at the
wheel. It was, he supposed, about four in the morning, and still
pitch-dark. 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 look-out, 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. His mind was still set on the problem how to frustrate the
scheme of the mutineers. He was convinced that if the grab once touched
shore at any point save Bombay, his plight would be hopeless. But how
could he guard against the danger? Even if he could keep the navigation
of the grab entirely in his own hands by remaining continuously at the
helm, he was dependent on the plotters for information about the coast;
to mislead him would be the easiest thing in the world. But it suddenly
occurred to him that he might gain time by altering the course of the
vessel. If he kept out of sight of land he might increase the chance of
some diversion occurring.
Accordingly he so contrived that the grab lost rather than gained in her
tacks against the light north-west wind now blowing. None of the men,
except possibly the Gujarati, had sufficient seamanship to detect this
manoeuvre; he had gone below, and when he came on deck again he could
not tell what progress had been made during his absence. Only the
mainsail, foresail, and one topsail were set: these were quite enough
for the untrained crew to trim in the darkness--likely to prove too
much, indeed, in the event of a sudden squall. Thus the process of going
about was a long and laborious one, and at the best much way was lost.
Not long after he had begun to act on this idea he was somewhat
concerned to see the serang, who was in charge of the deck watch, come
aft and hang about near the wheel, as though his curiosity had been
aroused. Had he any suspicions? Desmond resolved to address the man
and see what he could infer from the manner of his reply.
"Is all well, serang?"
"All well, sahib," answered the man. He stopped, and seemed to hesitate
whether to say more; but after a moment or two he moved slowly away.
Desmond watched him. Had he discovered the trick? Would he go below
and waken Fuzl Khan? Desmond could not still a momentary tremor. But
the serang did not rejoin his messmates, nor go below. He walked up and
down the deck alone. Apparently he suspected nothing.
Desmond felt relieved; but though he was gaining time, he could but
recognize that it seemed likely to profit him little. A criminal going
to execution may step never so slowly across the prison yard; there is
the inexorable gallows at the end, and certain doom. Could he not force
matters, Desmond wondered? It was evidently to be a contest, whether of
wits or of physical strength, between himself and the Gujarati. Without
one or other the vessel could not be safely navigated; if he could in
some way overcome the ringleader, he felt pretty sure that the crew
would accept the result and all difficulty would be at an end. But how
could he gain so unmistakable an ascendency? In physical strength Fuzl
Khan was more than his match: there was no doubt of the issue of a
struggle if it were a matter of sheer muscular power. For a moment he
thought of attempting to enlist the Marathas on his side. They were
Hindus; the Gujarati was a Muslim; and they must surely feel that, once
he was among his co-religionists in Cutch, in some pirate stronghold,
they would run a very poor chance of getting fair treatment. But he
soon dismissed the idea. The Gujarati must seem to them much more
formidable than the stripling against whom he was plotting. The Hindu,
even more than the average human being elsewhere, is inclined to attach
importance to might and bulk--even to mere fat. If he sounded the
Marathas, and, their fear of the Gujarati outweighing their inevitable
distrust of him as a Firangi, they betrayed him to curry a little
favour, there was no doubt that the fate both of himself and the Babu
would instantly be decided. He must trust to himself alone.
While he was still anxiously debating the matter with himself his eye
caught the two muskets lashed to the wooden framework supporting the
wheel. He must leave no hostages to fortune. Taking advantage of a
lull in the wind he steadied the wheel with his body, and with some
difficulty drew the charges and dropped them into the sea. If it came to
a tussle the enemy would certainly seize the muskets; it would be worth
something to Desmond to know that they were not loaded. It was, in
truth, but a slight lessening of the odds against him; and as he
restored the weapons to their place he felt once more how hopeless his
position remained.
Thus pondering and puzzling, with no satisfaction, he spent the full
period of his term of duty. At the appointed time Fuzl Khan came to
relieve him. It was now full daylight; but, scanning the horizon with a
restless eye, Desmond saw no sign of land, nor the sail of any vessel.
"No land yet, sahib?" said the Gujarati, apparently in surprise.
"No, as you see."
"But you set the course by the stars, sahib?"
"Oh yes; the grab must have been going slower than we imagined."
"The wind has not shifted?"
"Very little. I have had to tack several times."
The man grunted, and looked at Desmond, frowning suspiciously; but
Desmond met his glance boldly, and said, as he left to go below:
"Be sure to have me called the moment you sight land."
He went below, threw himself into his hammock, and being dead tired, was
soon fast asleep.
Some hours later he was called by the Babu.
"Sahib, they say land is in sight at last. I am indeed thankful. To
the landlubber the swell of waves causes nauseating upheaval."
"'Tis good news indeed," said Desmond, smiling. "Come on deck with me."
They went up together. The vessel was bowling along under a brisk
south-wester, which he found had been blowing steadily almost from the
moment he had left the helm. The land was as yet but a dim line on the
horizon; it was necessary to stand in much closer if any of the
landmarks were to be recognized. He took the wheel; the shade on the
sea-line gradually became more definite; and in the course of an hour
they opened up a fort somewhat similar in appearance to that of Gheria.
All the ship's company were now on deck, looking eagerly shorewards.
"Do you know the place?" asked Desmond of the Gujarati unconcernedly.
The man gazed at it intently for a minute or so.
"Yes, sahib; it is Suvarndrug," he said. "Is it not, Nanna?"
"Yes, of a truth; it is Suvarndrug; I was there a month ago," replied
the Maratha.