Chapter 26

old scores.

Time sped quickly. Desmond made the best use of his opportunities of learning navigation under Captain King and the harbor master, and before two months had expired was pronounced fit to act as mate on the finest East Indiaman afloat. He took this with a grain of salt. The fact was that his adventures, the modesty with which he deprecated all allusions to his part in the escape from Gheria, and the industry with which he worked, won him the goodwill of all; he was a general favorite with the little European community of Bombay.

Apart from his study, he found plenty to interest him in his spare moments. The strange mixture of people, the temples and pagodas, the towers of silence on which the Parsees exposed their dead, the burning pyres of the Hindus on the beach, the gaunt filthy fakirs {religious mendicant (Mohammedan)} and jogis who whined and told fortunes in the streets for alms, the exercising of the troops, the refitting and careening of Admiral Watson's ships--all this provided endless matter for curiosity and amusement.

One thing disappointed him. Not once during the two months did he come in contact with Clive. Mr. Merriman remained in Bombay, awaiting the arrival of a vessel of his from Muscat; but Desmond was loath to ask him whether he had sounded Clive about a cadetship. As a matter of fact Mr. Merriman had mentioned the matter at once.

"Patience, Merriman," was Clive's reply. "I have my eye on the youngster."

And with that the merchant, knowing his friend, was very well content; but he kept his own counsel.

At length, one day in the first week of February, 1756, Desmond received a summons to visit the admiral. His interview was brief. He was directed to place himself under the orders of Captain Latham on the Tyger; the fleet was about to sail.

It was a bright, cool February morning; cool, that is, for Bombay, when the vessels weighed anchor and sailed slowly out of the harbor. All Bombay lined the shores: natives of every hue and every mode of attire; English merchants; ladies fluttering white handkerchiefs. Such an expedition had never been undertaken against the noted Pirate before, and the report of Commodore James, confirming the information brought by Desmond, had given the authorities good hope that this pest of the Malabar coast was at last to be destroyed.

It was an inspiriting sight as the vessels, rounding the point, made under full sail to the south. There were six line-of-battle ships, six Company's vessels, five bomb ketches, four Maratha grabs--one of them Angria's own grab, the Tremukji, on which Desmond had escaped--and forty gallivats. The Tyger led the van. Admiral Watson's flag was hoisted on the Kent, Admiral Pocock's on the Cumberland. On board the fleet were two hundred European soldiers, three hundred Sepoys, and three hundred Topasses--mainly half-caste Portuguese in the service of the Company, owing their name to the topi {hat} they wore. To cooperate with this force a land army of twelve thousand Marathas, horse and foot, under the command of Ramaji Punt, one of the Peshwa's generals, had been for some time investing the town of Gheria.

At this time of year the winds were so slight and variable that it was nearly a week before the fleet arrived off Gheria. When the bastions of the fort hove into sight Desmond could not help contrasting his feelings with those of two months before.

"Like the look of your cage, Mr. Burke?" asked Captain Latham at his elbow.

"I was just thinking of it, sir," said Desmond. "It makes a very great difference when you're outside the bars."

"And we'll break those bars before we're much older, or I'm a Dutchman."

But at this moment the signal to heave-to was seen flying at the masthead of the Kent. Before the vessels had anchored one of the grabs left the main fleet and ran into the harbor. It bore a message from Admiral Watson to Tulaji Angria, summoning him to surrender. The answer returned was that if the admiral desired to be master of the fort he must take it by force, as Angria was resolved to defend it to the last extremity.

The ships remained at anchor outside the harbor during the night. Next morning a boat put off from the town end of the fort conveying several of Angria's relatives and some officers of Ramaji Punt's army. It by and by became known that Tulaji Angria, leaving his brother in charge of the fort, had given himself up to Ramaji Punt, and was now a prisoner in his camp. The visitors had come ostensibly to view the squadron, but really to discover what were Admiral Watson's intentions in regard to the disposal of the fort, supposing it fell into his hands. The admiral saw through the device, which was no doubt to hand the fort over to the Peshwa's general, and so balk the British of their legitimate prize.

Admiral Watson made short work of the visitors. He told them that if Angria would surrender his fort peaceably he and his family would be protected; but that the fort he must have. They pleaded for a few days' grace, but the admiral declined to wait a single day. If the fort was not immediately given up he would sail in and attack it.

It was evident that hostilities could not be avoided. About one in the afternoon Captain Henry Smith of the Kingfisher sloop was ordered to lead the way, and Desmond was sent to join him.

"What is the depth under the walls, Mr. Burke?" the captain asked him.

"Three and a half fathoms, sir--deep enough to float the biggest of us."

The sloop weighed anchor, and stood in before the afternoon breeze. It was an imposing sight as the fleet formed in two divisions and came slowly in their wake. Each ship covered a bomb ketch, protecting the smaller vessels from the enemy's fire. Desmond himself was kept very busy, going from ship to ship as ordered by signals from the Kent, and assisting each captain in turn to navigate the unfamiliar harbor.

It was just two o'clock when the engagement began with a shot from the fort at the Kingfisher. The shot was returned, and a quarter of an hour later, while the fleet was under full sail, the Kent flew the signal for a general action. One by one the vessels anchored at various points opposite the fortifications, and soon a hundred and fifty guns were blazing away at the massive bastions and curtains, answered vigorously by Angria's two hundred and fifty.

Desmond was all excitement. The deafening roar of the guns, the huge columns of smoke that floated heavily over the fort, and sometimes enveloped the vessels, the bray of trumpets, the beating of tom toms, the shouts of men, set his blood tingling: and though he afterwards witnessed other stirring scenes, he never forgot the vivid impression of the fight at Gheria.

About three o'clock a shell set fire to one of the Pirate's grabs--one that had formerly been taken by him from the Company. Leaving its moorings, it drifted among the main pirate fleet of grabs which still lay lashed together where Desmond had last seen them by the blaze of the burning gallivats. They were soon alight. The fire spread rapidly to the dockyard, caught the unfinished grabs on the stocks, and before long the whole of Angria's shipping was a mass of flame.

Meanwhile the bombardment had made little impression on the fortifications, and it appeared to the admiral that time was being wasted. Accordingly he gave orders to elevate the guns and fire over the walls into the interior of the fort. A shell from one of the bomb ketches fell plump into one of the outhouses of the palace and set it on fire. Fanned by the west wind, the flames spread to the arsenal and the storehouse, licking up the sheds and smaller buildings until they reached the outskirts of the city. The crackling of flames was now mingled with the din of artillery, and as dusk drew on, the sky was lit up over a large space with the red glow of burning. By half-past six the guns on the bastions had been silenced, and the admiral gave the signal to cease fire.

Some time before this a message reached Captain Smith ordering him to send Desmond at once on board the Kent. When he stepped on deck he found Admiral Watson in consultation with Clive. It appeared that during the afternoon a cloud of horsemen had been observed hovering on a hill eastward of the city, and being by no means sure of the loyalty of the Maratha allies, Clive had come to the conclusion that it was time to land his troops. But it was important that the shore and the neck of land east of the fort should be reconnoitered before the landing was attempted. The groves might, for all he knew, be occupied by the Pirate's troops or by those of Ramaji Punt, and Clive had had enough experience of native treachery to be well on his guard.

"I am going to send you on a somewhat delicate mission, Mr. Burke," he said. "You know the ground. I want you to go quickly on shore and see first of all whether there is safe landing for us, and then whether the ground between the town and the fort is occupied. Be quick and secret; I need waste no words. Mr. Watson has a boat's crew ready."

"I think, sir," said Desmond, "that it will hardly be necessary, perhaps not advisable, to take a boat's crew from this ship. If I might have a couple of natives, there would be a good deal less risk in getting ashore."

"Certainly. But there is no time to spare; indeed, if you are not back in a couple of hours I shall land at once. But I should like to know what we have to expect. You had better get a couple of men from the nearest grab."

"The Tremukji is only a few cable lengths away, sir, and there's a man on board who knows the harbor. I will take him, with your permission."

"Very well. Good luck go with you."

Desmond saluted, and stepping into the boat which had rowed him to the Kent, he was quickly conveyed to the grab. In a few minutes he left this in a skiff accompanied only by Fuzl Khan and a lascar. Not till then did he explain what he required of them. The Gujarati seemed overcome by the selection of himself for this mission.

"You are kind to me, sahib," he said. "I do not deserve it; but I will serve you to my life's end."

There was in the man's tone a fervency which touched Desmond at the time, and which he had good cause afterwards to remember.

A quarter of an hour after Desmond quitted the deck of the Kent, he was put ashore at a sandy bay at the farther extremity of the isthmus, hidden from the fort by a small clump of mango trees.

"Now, Fuzl Khan," he said, "you will wait here for a few minutes till it is quite dark, then you will row quickly along the shore till you come to within a short distance of the jetty. I am going across the sand up toward the fort, and will come round to you."

He stepped over the soft sand towards the trees and was lost to sight. The bombardment had now ceased, and though he heard a confused noise from the direction of the fort, there was no sound from the town, and he concluded that the people had fled either into the fort or away into the country. It appeared at present that the whole stretch of land between the town and the fort was deserted.

He had not walked far when he was startled by hearing, as he fancied, a stealthy footstep following him. Gripping in his right hand the pistol he had brought as a precaution, and with the left loosening his sword in its scabbard, he faced round with his back to the wall of a shed in which Angria's ropes were made, and waited, listening intently. But the sound, slight as it was, had ceased. Possibly it had been made by some animal, though that seemed scarcely likely: the noise and the glare from the burning buildings must surely have scared away all the animals in the neighborhood. Finding that the sound was not repeated, he went on again. Some minutes later, his ears on the stretch, he fancied he caught the same soft furtive tread: but when he stopped and listened and heard nothing, he believed that he must have been mistaken, and set it down as an echo of his own excitement.

Stepping warily, he picked his way through the darkness, faintly illuminated by the distant glow of the conflagration. He skirted the dockyard, and drew nearer to the walls of the courtyard surrounding the fort, remembering how, nearly twelve months before, he had come almost the same way from the jetty with the decoy message from Captain Barker. Then he had been a source of amusement to crowds of natives as he passed on his way to the palace; now the spot was deserted, and but for the noises that reached him from distant quarters he might have thought himself the sole living creature in that once populous settlement.

He had now reached the outer wall, which was separated from the fort only by the wide compound dotted here and there with palm trees. It was clear that no force, whether of the Pirate's men or of Ramaji Punt's, held the ground between the shore and the fort. All the fighting men had without doubt been withdrawn within the walls. His mission was accomplished.

It had been his intention to make his way back by a shorter cut along the outer wall, by the west side of the dockyard, until he reached the shore near the jetty. But standing for a moment under the shade of a palm tree, he hesitated to carry out his plan, for the path he meant to follow must be lit up along its whole course by a double glare: from the blazing buildings inside the fort, and from the burning gallivats in the dockyard and harbor.

He was on the point of retracing his steps when, looking over the low wall towards the fort, he saw two dark figures approaching, moving swiftly from tree to tree, as if wishing to escape observation. It was too late to move now; if he left the shelter of the palm tree he would come distinctly into view of the two men, and it would be unwise to risk anything that would delay his return to Clive. Accordingly he kept well in the shadow and waited. The stealthy movements of the men suggested that they were fugitives, eager to get away with whole skins before the fort was stormed.

They came to the last of the palm trees within the wall, and paused there for a brief space. A few yards of open ground separated them from the gate. Desmond watched curiously, then with some anxiety, for it suddenly struck him that the men were making for him, and that he had actually been shadowed from his landing place by someone acting, strange as it seemed, in collusion with them. On all accounts it was necessary to keep close.

Suddenly he saw the men leave the shelter of their tree and run rapidly across the ground to the gate. Having reached it, they turned aside into the shadow of the wall and stood as if to recover breath. Desmond had kept his eyes upon them all the time. Previously, in the shade of the trees, their faces had not been clearly distinguishable; but while now invisible from the fort, they were lit up by the glow from the harbor. It was with a shock of surprise that he recognized in the fugitives the overseer of the dockyard, whose cruelties he had so good reason to remember, and Marmaduke Diggle, as he still must call him.

The sight of the latter set his nerves tingling; his fingers itched to take some toll for the miseries he had endured through Diggle's villainy. But he checked his impulse to rush forward and confront the man. Single-handed he could not cope with both the fugitives; and though, if he had been free, he might have cast all prudence from him in his longing to bring the man to book, he recollected his duty to Clive and remained in silent rage beneath the tree.

All at once he heard a rustle behind him, a low growl like that of an animal enraged; and almost before he was aware of what was happening a dark figure sprang past him, leaped over the ground with the rapidity of a panther, and threw himself upon the overseer just as with Diggle he was beginning to move towards the town. There was a cry from each man, and the red light falling upon the face of the assailant, Desmond saw with amazement that it was the Gujarati, whom he had supposed to be rowing along the shore to meet him.

He had hardly recognized the man before he saw that he was at deadly grips with the overseer, both snarling like wild beasts. There was no time for thought, for Diggle, momentarily taken aback by the sudden onslaught, had recovered himself and was making with drawn sword toward the two combatants, who in their struggle had moved away from him.

Desmond no longer stayed to weigh possibilities or count risks. It was clear that Fuzl Khan's first onslaught had failed; had he got home, the overseer, powerful as he was, must have been killed on the spot. In the darkness the Gujarati's knife had probably missed its aim. He had now two enemies to deal with, and but for intervention he must soon be overcome and slain.

Drawing his sword, Desmond sprang from the tree and dashed across the open, reaching the scene of the struggle just in the nick of time to strike up Diggle's weapon ere it sheathed itself in the Gujarati's side. Diggle turned with a startled oath, and seeing who his assailant was, he left his companion to take care of himself, and faced Desmond, a smile of anticipated triumph wreathing his lips.

No word was spoken. Diggle lunged, and Desmond at that moment knew that he was at a perilous crisis of his life. The movements of the practised swordsman could not be mistaken; he himself had little experience; all that he could rely on was his quick eye and the toughness of his muscles. He gave back, parrying the lunge, tempted to use his pistol upon his adversary. But now that the cannonading had ceased the shot might be heard by some of the Pirate's men, and before he could escape he might be beset by a crowd of ruffians against whom he would have no chance at all. He could but defend himself with his sword and hope that Diggle might overreach himself in his fury and give him an opportunity to get home a blow.

Steel struck upon steel; the sparks flew; and the evil smile upon Diggle's face became fixed as he saw that Desmond was no match for him in swordsmanship. But it changed when he found that though his young opponent's science was at fault, his strength and dexterity, his wariness in avoiding a close attack, served him in good stead. Impatient to finish the fight, he took a step forward, and lunged so rapidly that Desmond could hardly have escaped his blade but for an accident. There was a choking sob to his right, and just as Diggle's sword was flashing towards him a heavy form fell against the blade and upon Desmond. In the course of their deadly struggle the Gujarati and the overseer had shifted their ground, and at this moment, fortunately for Desmond, Fuzl Khan had driven his knife into his old oppressor's heart.

But the same accident that saved Desmond's life gave Diggle an opportunity of which he was quick to avail himself. Before Desmond could recover his footing, Diggle shortened his arm and was about to drive his sword through the lad's heart. The Gujarati saw the movement. Springing in with uplifted knife, he attempted to turn the blade. He succeeded; he struck it upwards; but the force with which he had thrown himself between the two swordsmen was his undoing. Unable to check his rush, he received the point of Diggle's sword in his throat. With a terrible cry he raised his hands to clutch his assailant; but his strength failed him; he swayed, tottered, and fell gasping at Desmond's feet, beside the lifeless overseer.

Desmond saw that the turn of fortune had given the opportunity to him. He sprang forward as Diggle tried to recover his sword; Diggle gave way: and before he could lift his dripping weapon to parry the stroke, Desmond's blade was through his forearm. Panting with rage, he sought with his left hand to draw his pistol; but Desmond was beforehand with him. He caught his arm, wrenched the pistol from him, and, breathless with his exertions, said:

"You are my prisoner."

"'Tis fate, my young friend," said Diggle, with all his old blandness; Desmond never ceased to be amazed at the self command of this extraordinary man. "I have let some blood, I perceive; my sword arm is for the time disabled; but my great regret at this moment--you will understand the feeling--is that this gallant friend of yours lies low with the wound intended for another. So Antores received in his flank the lance hurled at Lausus: infelix alieno volnere."

"I dare say, Mr. Diggle," interrupted Desmond, "but I have no time to construe Latin."

Covering Diggle with his pistol, Desmond stooped over Fuzl Khan's prostrate body and discovered in a moment that the poor fellow's heart had ceased to beat. He rose, and added: "I must trouble you to come with me; and quickly, for you perceive you are at my mercy."

"Where do you propose to take me, my friend?"

"We will go this way, and please step out."

Diggle scowled, and stood as though meditating resistance.

"Come, come, Mr. Diggle, you have no choice. I do not wish to have to drag you; it might cause you pain."

"Surely you will spare a moment to an old friend! I fear you are entirely mistaken. 'Tis pity that with the natural ebullition of your youthful spirit you should have set upon a man whom--"

"You can talk as we go, Mr. Diggle, if you talk low enough. Must I repeat it?"

"But where are we going? Really, Mr. Burke, respect for my years should prompt a more considerate treatment."

"You see yonder point?" said Desmond impatiently; "yonder on the shore. You will come with me there."

Diggle looked around as if hoping that even now something might happen in his favor. But no one was in sight; Desmond stood over him with sword still drawn; and recognizing his helplessness the man at length turned towards the shore and began to walk slowly along, Desmond a foot or so in the rear.

"'Twas a most strange chance, surely," he said, "that brought you to this spot at the very moment when I was shaking the dust of Gheria from my feet. How impossible it is to escape the penalty of one's wrongdoing! Old Horace knew it: Raro antecedentem scelestum--you remember the rest. Mr. Burslem drubbed our Latin into us, Mr. Burke. I am a fellow townsman of yours, though you did not know it: aye, a boy in your old school, switched by your old master. I have treated you badly. I admit it; but what could I do? Your brother slandered you; I see now how he deceived me; he wished you out of his way. Here I acted under pressure of Angria; he was bent on sending you to Bombay; I could not defy him. I was wrong; what you said when I saw you last made a deep impression on me; I repented, and, as Tully, I think, put it, 'a change of plan is the best harbor to a penitent man.' I was indeed seeking that refuge of the repentant, and altering my whole plan of life; and if you will but tarry a moment--"

"Keep on, Mr. Diggle," said Desmond, as the man, who had been talking over his shoulder, half stopped; "my point is sharp."

"I was leaving the fort, as you saw. Not from any fear; you will acquit me of that, and as you know, the fort is impregnable, and I might have remained there in perfect safety. No, I was quitting it because I was wearied, disgusted with Angria and his ways. 'Twas under a misapprehension I for a time consorted with him; I am disabused, and it is by the mere malignity of Fate that at this turning point of my career I encounter one whom, I acknowledge, I have wronged. I am beaten; I do not blink that; and by a better man. But youth is generous; and you, Mr. Burke, are not the man to press your advantage against one who all his life has been the sport of evil circumstance. I was bound for farther India; I know a little port to the south where I should have taken ship, with strong hope of getting useful and honorable employment when my voyage was ended. Perchance you have heard of Alivirdi Khan; if you would but pause a moment--"

"Go on, Mr. Diggle," said Desmond inexorably; "and it will be well to mend your pace."

"Alivirdi Khan," resumed Diggle, speaking more rapidly; the waters of the harbor, glowing red, were in sight: "Alivirdi Khan is sick unto death. He is wealthy beyond all imaginings. His likeliest heir, Sirajuddaula, soon to be Subah {viceroy} of Bengal, is well known to me, and indeed beholden to me for services rendered in the past. Mr. Burke, I make you a proposition--it is worth considering. Why not come with me? Wipe off old scores, throw in your lot with mine. Together, what could we not do--I with my experience, you with your youthful vigor! See, here is an earnest of my sincerity."

He took from his fob a large diamond which flashed in the red light of the conflagration.

"Accept this; in the treasuries of Alivirdi there are thousands like it, each worth a king's ransom. Come with me, and I promise you that within two years you shall be rich beyond your wildest dreams."

"Put up your diamond, Mr. Peloti. You may repeat your offer when we reach Colonel Clive."

Diggle stopped as if shot. He looked with startled eyes at the boy, who had known him only as Diggle.

"You are going to Colonel Clive!" he exclaimed. The smoothness of his manner was gone; his tone expressed mortal anxiety. "But--but--he is a personal enemy; he will--I beseech you think again; I--"

He broke off, and with a suddenness that took Desmond by surprise he sprang away, making towards the grove of mangoes that stood between him and the shore. Desmond was instantly in pursuit. If Diggle gained the shelter of the trees he might escape in the darkness. But the race was short. Weak from fear and loss of blood, the elder was no match in speed for the younger. In less than a hundred yards he was overtaken, and stood panting, quivering, unnerved. Desmond gripped his uninjured arm, and with quickened footsteps hurried him towards the shore. There was the boat, the lascar resting motionless on his oar. Ten minutes later Diggle was assisted up the side of the Kent, and handed over to the officer of the watch. Then Desmond made his report to Clive.

"All the enemy are withdrawn within the fort, sir. The whole ground between the fort and the shore is clear. There is nothing to obstruct your landing."

"I thank you. You have exceeded your time by ten minutes. Who is that man who came aboard with you?"

"It was he who delayed me, sir. It is Mr. Diggle, or Peloti, I should say."

"The deuce he is!"

"He was stealing out of the fort; it came to a scuffle, and he was wounded--so I brought him along."

"Mr. Speke," said Clive, turning to the captain, "may I ask you to see this man safe bestowed? I will deal with him when our business here is concluded.

"Mr. Burke, you will come with me."

By nine o'clock Clive had landed his troops. They bivouacked on the shore, in expectation of storming the fort next day. At daybreak an officer was sent into the fort with a flag of truce to demand its surrender. This being refused, the admiral ordered his ships to warp within a cable's length of the walls in three fathoms and a quarter water, and the attack was renewed by sea and land, Clive gradually advancing and worrying the enemy with his cannon. At two o'clock a magazine in the fort blew up, and not long after, just as Clive was about to give the order to storm, a white flag was seen fluttering at one of the bastions.

A messenger was sent to the governor to arrange the capitulation, but when he was met by prevarication and pleas for delay the bombardment was once more resumed. A few minutes of this sufficed to bring the defenders to reason, and by five o'clock the English flag flew upon the walls.

Clive postponed his entry until dawn on the following morning.

"By Jove, Mr. Burke," he said to Desmond, who showed him the way to the palace, "if we had been within these walls I think we could have held out till doomsday."

All the English officers were impressed by the strength of the fortifications. Besides Angria's two hundred and fifty cannon, an immense quantity of stores and ammunition fell into the hands of the captors. In the vaults of the palace were found silver rupees to the value of one hundred thousand pounds, and treasure worth thirty thousand pounds more. The capture had been effected with the loss of only twenty killed and wounded.

Desmond took the earliest opportunity of seeking the body of Fuzl Khan. Fortunately the fires and the noises of the night had preserved it from mangling by wild beasts. The poor man lay where he had fallen, near the body of the overseer.

"Poor fellow!" thought Desmond, looking at the strong, fierce face and the gigantic frame now stiff and cold. "Little he knew, when he said he'd serve me to his life's end, that the end was so near."

He had the body carried into the town, and reverently buried according to Mohammedan rites. From the lascar he had learned all that he ever knew of the motives of the Gujarati's action. Desmond had hardly left the boat when the man sprang quickly after him, saying briefly:

"I go to guard the sahib."

It was like the instinctive impulse of a faithful dog; and Desmond often regretted the loss of the man who had shown himself so capable of devotion.

That evening Clive summoned Desmond to attend him in the palace. When he entered the durbar hall he saw, seated on the dais, a small group consisting of Clive, Admiral Watson, and two or three subordinate officers. Standing in front of them was Diggle, in the charge of two marines.

"How many European prisoners have been released, Mr. Ward?" the admiral was saying.

"Thirteen, sir; ten English and three Dutch."

"Is that correct, Mr. Burke? Was that the number when you were here?"

"Yes, sir, that is correct."

"Then you may go, Mr. Ward, and see that the poor fellows are taken on board the Tyger and well looked after."

As the officer saluted and withdrew the admiral turned to Clive.

"Now for this white pirate," he said: "a most unpleasant matter, truly."

Signing to the marines to bring forward their prisoner, he threw himself back upon the divan, leaving the matter in Clive's hands. Clive was gazing hard at Diggle, who had lost the look of terror he had worn two nights before, and stood before them in his usual attitude of careless ease.

"You captured this man," said Clive, turning to Desmond, "within the precincts of the fort?"

His hard level tone contrasted strongly with the urbaner manner of the admiral.

"Yes, sir," replied Desmond.

"He is the same man who inveigled you on board the interloper Good Intent and delivered you to the Pirate?"

"And he was to your knowledge associated with the Pirate, and offered you inducements to spy upon his Majesty's forces in Bombay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you anything to say for yourself, Mr. Peloti?"

"Pardon me, Mr. Clive; Diggle--Marmaduke Diggle."

"Diggle, if you like," said Clive with a shrug. "You will hang as well in that name as another."

One of the officers smiled at the grim jest, but there was no smile on Clive's stern set face.

"You asked me if I had anything to say for myself," said Diggle quietly. "Assuredly; but it seems your Honors have condemned me already. Why should I waste your time, and my breath? I bethink me 'twas not even in Rome the custom to judge a matter before learning the facts--prius rem dijudicare--but it is a long time, Mr. Clive, since we conned our Terence together."

Desmond could not but admire the superb insouciance and the easy smile with which Diggle played his card. Seeing that Clive for an instant hesitated, the intrepid prisoner continued:

"But there, Mr. Clive, you never excelled in the Latin. 'Twas a sore point with poor Mr. Burslem."

"Come, come," cried Clive, visibly nettled, "this is no time for quips. You fail to appreciate your position. You are caught red handed. If you have no defense to make you will meet the fate of other pirates before you. Have you anything to say?"

"Yes. You accuse me of piracy; I have a complete answer to that charge; but as an Englishman I claim an Englishman's right--a fair trial before a jury of my countrymen. In any case, Mr. Clive, it would be invidious to give me worse treatment than Monaji Angria and his officers. As for the rest, it depends on the evidence of this single witness."

Here Admiral Watson bent forward and said to Clive in an undertone, inaudible to the others:

"I think we had better defer this. If, as you suppose, the fellow has knowledge of the French plans, it would be only politic to give Mr. Bourchier an opportunity of inquiring into the matter. No doubt he richly deserves hanging, but dead men tell no tales."

Clive frowned, and, drumming upon the divan impatiently with his fingers, seemed for the moment to be lost in thought. Then he said:

"Yes, Mr. Watson, I think you are right."

"Take the prisoner back to your ship," said the admiral, "and put him under double guard.

"Thank you, Mr. Burke; we shall require your evidence in Bombay. One word before you go. I am vastly indebted to you for your services; you have been of the greatest use to myself and my captains. Your name will frequently appear in our ships' logs, and I shall take care to show your work in the proper light when I make my report. Meanwhile, when the division of prize money is made, you will receive a lieutenant's share. Good night, sir."

And Desmond's face, as he left the room, bore a flush of happiness and pride.