Soon he reached the spot. He clambered into the boat and with
rapid movements of the stern oar brought it to the other side, viewing
with beaming face the promised reward.
While this was going on the sky had been darkening. A northwester was
coming up, and after his experience on the eve of Plassey, Desmond knew
what that meant. He hastily embarked his men, and the boat started: but
it had scarcely covered a third of the distance across the river when the
wind struck it. Fortunately the sail was not up: as it was, the
flat-bottomed boat was nearly swamped. Drenching rain began to fall. The
river was lashed to fury: for three crowded minutes it seemed to Desmond
a miracle that the boat was still afloat. The waves dashed over its
sides; the men, blinded by the rain, were too much cowed to attempt to
bail out.
Desmond was at the helm; Bulger and Toley had an oar each; although only
a few yards distant, Desmond could scarcely see them through the pelting
rain. Then the wind moderated somewhat: he peremptorily ordered the men
to use their brass lotis {drinking vessel} to bale out the boat, and
determined to turn the storm to account.
With great difficulty he got the sail hoisted; and then the vessel ran
down the river at racing speed. The distance to Malda, as the Armenian
had told him, was six miles--four by river, two by land. By Diggle's
route it was ten miles. The horsemen had had such a start of him that he
feared he could not overtake them in time.
Pages:
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475