If they
were true, he had sold his comrades who trusted him. They might not be
true; the man himself had always indignantly denied them. Desmond had
nothing against him. So far he had acted loyally enough; but then he had
nothing to gain by playing his fellow fugitives false, and it was with
this knowledge that Desmond had decided to make him privy to the escape.
But now they were clear of Gheria. Fuzl Khan was free like the rest; he
had no longer the same inducement to play straight if his interest seemed
to him to clash with the general. Yet it was not easy to see how such a
clashing could occur. Like the others he was lost at sea; until land was
reached, at any rate, he could have no motive for opposition or mutiny.
While these, thoughts were passing through Desmond's mind he heard a man
rise from the group aft and come forward. Instinctively he moved from the
side of the vessel towards the mainmast, and as the man drew near Desmond
stood so that the stout tree trunk was between them. The man went rapidly
towards the bows, and in a low tone hailed the lookout, whispering him a
summons to join the Gujarati at the helm. The lookout, one of the
Marathas, left his post; he came aft with the messenger, and both passing
on the same side of the vessel, Desmond by dodging round the mast escaped
their notice.
At the best, the action of Fuzl Khan was a dereliction of duty; at the
worst!--Desmond could not put his suspicions into words. It was clear
that something was afoot, and he resolved to find out what it was.
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