"Do you think, sir, we shall capture this place tomorrow?" he asked
suddenly.
"Scarcely, my boy," said Clive, smiling; "nor by tomorrow week, unless
the French have forgotten how to fight. Why do you ask?"
"Because if you'd give me leave I'd like to have a shot at the Good
Intent--provided I got back in time to be with you in the fighting line,
sir."
"Well, I can't keep things waiting for you. And it seems a wild-goose
chase--rather a hazardous one."
"I'd risk that, sir. I could get together some men in Calcutta, and I'd
hope to be back here in a couple of days."
"Well, well, Burke, you'd wheedle the Mogul himself. Anyone could tell
you're an Irishman. Get along, then; do your best, and if you don't come
back I'll try to take Chandernagore without you."
He smiled as he slapped Desmond on the shoulder. Well pleased with his
ready consent, Desmond hurried away, got a horse, and riding hard reached
Calcutta by eight o'clock and went straight to Mr. Merriman. Explaining
what was afoot, he asked for the loan of the men of the Hormuzzeer.
Merriman at once agreed; Captain Barker was a friend of Peloti's; and he
needed no stronger inducement.
Desmond hurried down to the river; the Hormuzzeer was lying off
Cruttenden Ghat; and Mr. Toley for once broke through his settled sadness
of demeanor when he learned of the expedition proposed.
While Toley collected the crew and made his preparations, Desmond
consulted a pilot. The Good Intent had passed Calcutta an hour before;
but the man said that, though favored by the wind, she would scarcely get
past the bar at Mayapur on the evening tide.
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