The prow was covered with a deck, level with the main deck
of the vessel, but with a bulkhead between this and the forecastle.
"En't she pitchin'!" remarked Bulger, standing by Desmond's side. "You
couldn't expect nothing else of a craft built that shape. Look at the
water pourin' off her; why, I may be wrong, but I'll lay my best breeches
she's a-founderin'."
As usual, Bulger was right. When the grab was overhauled, the men on
board, dark-skinned Marathas with very scanty clothing, made signs that
they were in distress.
"Throw her into the wind," shouted the captain.
Mr. Toley at the wheel put the helm down, the longboat was lowered, and
with some difficulty, owing to the heavy sea, the thirty men on the grab
were taken off. As they came aboard the Good Intent, Diggle, who was
leaning over the bulwarks, suddenly straightened himself, smiled, and
moved towards the taffrail. One of the newcomers, a fine muscular fellow,
seeing Diggle approaching, stood for a moment in surprise, then salaamed.
The Englishman said something in the stranger's tongue, and grasped his
hand with the familiarity of old friendship.
"You know the man, Mr. Diggle?" said the captain.
"Yes, truly. The Gentoos and I are in a sense comrades in arms. His name
is Hybati; he's a Maratha."
"What's he jabbering about?"
The man was talking rapidly and earnestly.
"He says, captain," returned Diggle, with a smile, "that he hopes you
will send and fetch the crew's rice on board.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119