One of Clive's Heroes Part 29

Desmond saw an extensive castle, a flag flying on its pinnacled roof, set amid a green ma.s.s of jungle and cocoa-nut forest, with a few Portuguese-built houses dotted here and there. In front a narrow jungle-clad island, called, as he afterwards learnt, Old Woman Island, stretched like a spit into the sea. To the south of the fort was the Bunder pier, with the warehouses at the sh.o.r.e end. Southward of these were the hospital and the doctor's house overlooking the harbour, while hard by were the marine yard and the docks ensconced behind the royal bastion.

Feeling that he had nothing more to fear, Desmond ordered Fuzl Khan to be cast loose and brought to him. The man wore a look of sullen surprise, which Desmond cheerfully ignored.

"Now, Fuzl Khan," he said, "we are running into Bombay harbour. You know the channel?"

The man grunted a surly affirmative.

"Well, you will take the helm, and steer us in to the most convenient moorings."

He turned away, smiling at the look of utter consternation on the Gujarati's face. To be trusted after his treacherous conduct was evidently more than the man could understand. The easy unconcern with which Desmond walked away had its effect on the crew. When orders were given to take in sail they carried them out with prompt.i.tude, and Desmond chuckled as he saw them talking to one another in low tones and discussing him, as he guessed by their glances in his direction. The Gujarati performed his work at the helm skilfully, and about five o'clock, when the sun was setting, casting a romantic glow over the long straggling settlement, the _Tremukji_ ran to her anchorage among a host of small craft, within a few cables-lengths of the vessels of Admiral Watson's squadron, which had arrived from Madras a few weeks before.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH

*In which our hero finds himself among friends; and Colonel Clive prepares to astonish Angria.*

The entrance of a strange grab had not pa.s.sed unnoticed. Before the anchor had been dropped, the superintendent of marine put off in a toni.

"What grab is that?" he shouted in Urdu, as he came alongside.

"The _Tremukji_, sir," replied Desmond in English.

"Eh! what! who in the name of Jupiter are you?"

"You'd better come aboard, sir, and I'll explain," said Desmond with a smile.

The superintendent mounted the side, rapping out sundry exclamations of astonishment that amused Desmond not a little.

"Don't talk like a native! H'm! Queer! Turn him inside out! No nonsense!"

"Well, here I am," he added, stepping up to Desmond. "My name's Johnson, and I'm superintendent of marine. Now then, explain; no nonsense!"

Desmond liked the look of the little man. He was short and stout, with a very large red face, a broad turn-up nose, and childlike blue eyes that bespoke confidence at once.

"My name is Desmond Burke, sir, and I've run away from Gheria in this grab."

"The deuce you have!"

"Yes, sir. I've been a prisoner there for six months and more, and we got off a few nights ago in the darkness."

"H'm! Any more Irishmen aboard?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir."

"And you got away from Gheria, did you? You're the first that ever I heard did so. Nothing to do with Commodore James, eh?"

"No, sir. I don't know what you mean."

"Why, Commodore James started t'other day to take a good sea-look at Gheria. There's an expedition getting ready to draw that rascally Pirate's teeth. You saw nothing of the squadron? No nonsense, now."

"Not a thing, sir. We were blown out to sea, and I suppose the Commodore pa.s.sed us in the night."

"H'm! Very likely. And you weathered that storm, did you? Learnt your seamans.h.i.+p, eh?"

"Picked up a little on board the _Good Intent_, sir. I was s.h.i.+p's boy aboard."

"Mighty queer s.h.i.+p's boy!" said Mr. Johnson in an audible aside. "The _Good Intent's_ a villainous interloper; how came you aboard of her?"

"I was in a sense tricked into it, sir, and when we got to Gheria Captain Barker and Mr. Diggle the supercargo sold me to Angria."

"Sold you to the Pirate?"

"Yes, sir."

"And where do you hail from, then?"

"Shrops.h.i.+re, sir; my father was Captain Richard Burke, in the Company's service."

"Jupiter! You're d.i.c.k Burke's son! Gad, sir, give me your hand; I knew d.i.c.k Burke; many's the sneaker of Bombay punch we've tossed off together. No nonsense about d.i.c.k; give me your fist. And so you sneaked out of Gheria and sailed this grab, eh? Well, you're a chip of the old block, and a credit to your old dad. I want to hear all about this. And you'll have to come ash.o.r.e and see the Governor."

"It's very kind of you, Mr. Johnson, but really I can't appear before the Governor in this rig."

He glanced ruefully at his bare legs and feet and tattered garments.

"True, you en't very s.h.i.+p-shape, but we'll soon alter that. Ever use a razor?"

"Not yet, sir," replied Desmond with a smile.

"Thought not. Plenty of native barbers. You must get shaved. And I'll rig you up in a suit of some sort. You must see the Governor at once, and no nonsense."

"What about the grab, sir?"

"Leave that to me. You've got a pretty mixed crew, I see. All escaped prisoners too?"

"All but four."

"And not one of 'em to be trusted, I'll swear. Well I'll put a crew aboard to take charge. Come along; there's no time to lose. Colonel Clive goes to bed early."

"Colonel Clive! Is he here?"

"Yes; arrived from home two days ago. Ah! that reminds me; you're a Shrops.h.i.+re lad; so's he; do you know him?"

"No, sir; I've seen him; I--I----"

Desmond stammered, remembering his unfortunate encounter with Clive in Billiter Street.