Only the lascar and Hossain were left in the boat.
Ten minutes after the men had disappeared from view, the serang lit a
small oil lamp in the tiny cabin. He then made his way to the helm,
whispered a word in the lascar's ear, and took his place. The latter
nodded and went into the cabin. Drawing the curtains, he squatted on a
mattress, took from a hiding place in the cabin a few sheets of paper and
a pencil, and, resting the paper on the back of a tray, began to write.
As he did so he frequently consulted a scrap of paper he kept at his left
hand; it was closely covered with letters and figures, these latter not
Hindustani characters, but the Arabic figures employed by Europeans.
The first line of what he wrote himself ran thus:
29 19 28 19 36 38 32 20 21 39 23 34 19 29 29 35 32 38 24 38 23 32
{constructed from the cipher actually used by Mr. Watts at Murshidabad}.
The letter or message upon which he was engaged was not a lengthy one,
but it took a long time to compose. When it was finished the lascar went
over it line by line, comparing it with the paper at his left hand. Then
he folded it very small, sealed it with a wafer, and, returning to the
serang, said a few words. Whereupon Hossain made a trumpet of his hands,
and, looking toward the left bank, sounded a few notes in imitation of a
bird's warble. The shore was fringed here with low bushes. As if in
answer to the call a small boat darted out from the shelter of a bush; a
few strokes brought it alongside of the petala; and the serang, bending
over, handed the folded paper to the boatman, and whispered a few words
in his ear.
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