There was a brisk breeze from the southwest outside the harbor, and when the two vessels lost the shelter of the headland they crept along even more slowly than before.  Desmond had learned enough of seamanship on board the Good Intent to know that he must have sea room before he cast off the gallivat and made sail northwards; otherwise he would inevitably be driven on shore.  It was this fact that had prompted his operations in the harbor.  He knew that the grabs could not put to sea unless they were towed, and the gallivats being rendered useless, towing was impossible.

The sea was choppy, and the rowers had much ado to control the sweeps.  Only their dread of the Biluchis’ knives kept them at their work.  But the progress, though slow, was steady; gradually the glow in the sky behind the headland grew dimmer; though it was as yet impossible to judge with certainty how much offing had been made.  Desmond, resolving to give away no chances, and being unacquainted with the trend of the coast, kept the rowers at work, with short intervals of rest, until dawn.  By this means he hoped to avoid all risk of being driven on a lee shore, and to throw Angria off the scent, for it would naturally be supposed that the fugitives would head at once for Bombay, and pursuit, if attempted, would be made in that direction.

When day broke over the hills, Desmond guessed that the coast must be now five miles off.  As far as he could see, it ran north by east.  He had now plenty of sea room; there was no pursuer in sight; the wind was in his favor, and if it held, no vessel in Angria’s harbor could now catch him.  He called to the Gujarati, who shouted an order to the Biluchis; the worn-out men on the benches ceased rowing, except four who pulled a few strokes every now and then to prevent the two vessels from colliding.

Desmond had thought at first of stopping the rowing altogether and running the grab alongside the gallivat; but that course, while safe enough in the still water of the harbor, would have its dangers in the open sea.  So, lashing the helm of the grab, he dropped into a small boat which had been bumping throughout the night against the vessel’s side, and in a few minutes was on board the gallivat.

He first inquired after the men who had been wounded in the night.  One had a broken arm, which no one on board knew how to set.  The Babu had certainly a much discolored nose, the contusion having been caused no doubt by a splinter of wood thrown up by the shot.  Two or three of the rowers had slight bruises and abrasions, but none had been killed and none dangerously hurt.

Then Desmond had a short and earnest talk with the Gujarati, who alone of the men had sufficient seamanship to make him of any value in deciding upon the next move.

“What is to be done with the gallivat?” asked Desmond.

“Scuttle her, sahib, and hoist sail on the grab.”

“But the rowers?”