Reaching the center 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 vessel, 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.
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