“Take care!  Where are you going?  Who are you?”

Desmond called up the serang.  He dare not reply himself, lest his accent should betray him.

“Tell him all is well.  We have a message from the fort to the Tremukji,” he said in a whisper.

The serang repeated the words aloud.

“Well, huzur.  But what is the meaning of the noise and the torches and the blaze on the sea?”

“Tell him we have no time to waste.  Ask him where the Tremukji lies.”

The man on the grab replied that she lay outside, a dozen boat lengths.  Desmond knew that this vessel, which had been launched during his captivity, and in whose construction he had had a humble part, had proved the swiftest in the fleet, although much smaller than the majority of the Pirate’s.  Once on board her, and beyond reach of the guns of the fort, he might fairly hope to get clear away in spite of his miscellaneous crew.  Giving to the Gujarati the order to go ahead, he questioned the serang.

“What is the name of the serang in charge of the Tremukji?”

“Pandu, sahib.”

“How many men are on board her?”

“Three, sahib.”

“Then, when we come alongside and I give the word, you will tell him to come aboard at once; we have a message from the fort for him.”

Owing to the trend of the shore, the gallivat had been slowly nearing the walls of the fort, and at this moment could not be more than a hundred and fifty yards distant from them.  But for the shouting on shore the noise of the sweeps must by this time have been heard.  In the glow of the blazing vessels in mid channel the moving gallivat had almost certainly been seen.  Desmond grew more and more anxious.

“Hail the grab,” he said to the serang as the vessel loomed up ahead.

“Hai, hai, Tremukji!” cried the man.

There came an answering hail.  Then the serang hesitated; he was evidently wondering whether even now he might not defy this foreigner who was bearding his terrible master.  But his hesitation was short.  At a sign from Desmond, Gulam the Biluchi, who had brought the serang forward, applied the point of his knife to the back of the unfortunate man’s neck.

“I have a message from Angria Rho,” he cried quickly.  “Come aboard at once.”

The rowers at a word from Fuzl Khan shipped their oars, and the two vessels came together with a sharp thud.  The serang in charge of the grab vaulted across the bulwarks and fell into the waiting arms of Fuzl Khan, who squeezed his throat, muttered a few fierce words in his ear, and handed him over to Gulam, who bundled him below.  Then, shouting the order to make fast, the Gujarati flung a hawser across to the grab.  The two men on board her obeyed without question; but they were still at the work when Desmond and Fuzl Khan, followed by the two Mysoreans, leaped upon them from the deck of the gallivat.  There was a short sharp scrimmage; then these guardians of the grab were hauled on to the gallivat and sent to join the rowers on the main deck.