"Idling away your time as usual, of course. Here, take this chit {note}
and run ashore. 'Tis for Mr. Diggle, as you can see if you can read."
"But how am I to find him, sir?"
"Hang me, that's your concern. Find him, and give the chit into his own
hand, and be back without any tomfoolery, or by thunder I'll lay a rope
across your shoulders."
Desmond took the note, left the vessel, and hurried along the jetty.
After what Bulger had said he was not very well pleased at the prospect
of meeting Diggle again. At the shore end of the jetty he was accosted by
the peon who had brought Diggle's note on board. The man intimated by
signs that he would show the way, and Desmond, wondering why the Indian
had not himself waited to receive Captain Barker's answer, followed him
at a rapid pace on shore, past the docks, through a corner of the town
where the appearance of a white stranger attracted the curious attention
of the natives, to an open space in front of the entrance to the fort.
Here they arrived at a low wall cut by an open gateway, at each side of
which stood a Maratha sentry armed with a matchlock. A few words were
exchanged between Desmond's guide and one of the sentries; the two
entered, crossed a compound dotted with trees, and passing through the
principal gateway came to a large, square building near the center of the
fort. The door of this was guarded by a sentry. Again a few words were
spoken. Desmond fancied he saw a slight smile curl the lips of the
natives; then the sentry called another peon who stood at hand, and sent
him into the palace.
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