When day broke over the hills, Desmond guessed that the coast must be now
five miles off. As far as he could see, it ran north by east. He had now
plenty of sea room; there was no pursuer in sight; the wind was in his
favor, and if it held, no vessel in Angria's harbor could now catch him.
He called to the Gujarati, who shouted an order to the Biluchis; the
worn-out men on the benches ceased rowing, except four who pulled a few
strokes every now and then to prevent the two vessels from colliding.
Desmond had thought at first of stopping the rowing altogether and
running the grab alongside the gallivat; but that course, while safe
enough in the still water of the harbor, would have its dangers in the
open sea. So, lashing the helm of the grab, he dropped into a small boat
which had been bumping throughout the night against the vessel's side,
and in a few minutes was on board the gallivat.
He first inquired after the men who had been wounded in the night. One
had a broken arm, which no one on board knew how to set. The Babu had
certainly a much discolored nose, the contusion having been caused no
doubt by a splinter of wood thrown up by the shot. Two or three of the
rowers had slight bruises and abrasions, but none had been killed and
none dangerously hurt.
Then Desmond had a short and earnest talk with the Gujarati, who alone of
the men had sufficient seamanship to make him of any value in deciding
upon the next move.
"What is to be done with the gallivat?" asked Desmond.
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