Pausing a moment as they reached the vessel to make sure that no one was stirring, Desmond and Fuzl Khan crept on to its deck and threw themselves down, again listening intently.  From the last vessel of the line came the sound of low voices, accompanied at intervals by the click of the oblong bone dice with which the men were gambling.  This was a boon, for when the Indian, a born gambler, is engaged in one of his games of chance, he is oblivious of all else around him.  But on Angria’s gallivat there was no sound.  Rising to a crouching position, so that his form could not be seen if any of the gamblers chanced to look in his direction, Desmond slowly crept aft, halting at every few steps to listen.  Still there was no sound.

But all at once he caught sight of a faint glow ahead; what was it?  For a few seconds he was puzzled.  As he approached, the glow took shape; he saw that it was the entrance to the cabin, the sliding door being half open.  Creeping to the darker side, careful not to come within the radius of the light, he stood erect, and again listened.  From within came the snores of a sleeper.  Now he felt sure that his guess had been correct, for none but the serang would dare to occupy the cabin, and even he would no doubt have cause to tremble if his presumption should come to the Pirate’s ears.

Keeping his body as much in the shadow as possible, Desmond craned his head forward and peeped into the cabin.  He could see little or nothing; the light came from a small oil lantern with its face turned to the wall.  Made of some vegetable substance, the oil gave off a pungent smell.  The lantern was no doubt carried by the serang in his rounds of inspection; probably he kept it within reach at night; he must be sleeping in the black shadow cast by it.  To locate a sound is always difficult; but, as far as Desmond could judge, the snores came from the neighborhood of the lantern and as from the floor.

He stepped back again into complete darkness.  The Gujarati was at his elbow.

“Wait, Fuzl Khan,” said Desmond in the lowest of whispers.  “I must go in and see where the man is and how the cabin is arranged.”

The Gujarati crouched in the shadow of the bulwarks.  Desmond, dropping on hands and knees, crawled slowly forward into the cabin towards the light.  It was slightly above him, probably on a raised divan—­the most likely place for the serang to choose as his bed.  In a few moments Desmond’s outstretched fingers touched the edge of the little platform; the light was still nearly two yards away.  Still he was unable to see the sleeper, though by the sound of his breathing he must be very near.

Desmond feared that every moment might bring him into contact with the man.  Whatever the risk, it was necessary to obtain a little more light.  Slightly raising himself he found that, without actually mounting the platform, he could just reach the lamp with outstretched fingers.  Very slowly he pushed it round, so that the light fell more directly into the room.  Then he was able to see, about four feet away, curled up on the divan, with his arms under his head, the form of a man.  There was no other in the cabin.  Having discovered all that he wished to know, Desmond crawled backward as carefully as he had come.