But he had a good offing: scanning the horizon all
around he failed to sight a single sail; and he hoped that the breeze
would freshen as suddenly as it had dropped.
Now that excitement and suspense were over, and there was nothing that
called for activity, Desmond felt the natural reaction from the strain he
had undergone. By midday he was so tired and sleepy that he found himself
beginning to doze at the wheel. The Gujarati had been sleeping for some
hours, and, as the vessel now required scarcely any attention Desmond
thought it a good opportunity for snatching a rest. Calling to Fuzl Khan
to take his place and bidding him keep the vessel's head, as far as he
could, due north, he went below. About six bells, as time would have been
reckoned on the Good Intent, he was wakened by the Babu, with a message
from the Gujarati desiring him to come on deck.
"Is anything wrong, Babu?" he asked, springing up.
"Not so far as I am aware, sahib. Only it is much hotter since I began my
watch."
Desmond had hardly stepped on deck before he understood the reason for
the summons. Overhead all was clear; but towards the land a dense bank of
black cloud was rising, and approaching the vessel with great rapidity.
It was as though some vast blanket were being thrown seawards. The air
was oppressively hot, and the sea lay like lead. Desmond knew the signs;
the Gujarati knew them too; and they set to work with a will to meet the
storm.
Fortunately Desmond, recognizing the unhandiness of his crew, had taken
care to set no more sail than could be shortened at the briefest notice.
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