It was fortunate that little was required of the crew, for in a few minutes all of them save the four Marathas from the gallivat were prostrated with seasickness.  The Babu had run below, and occasionally, between two gusts, Desmond could hear the shrieks and groans of the terrified man.  But he had no time to sympathize; his whole energies were bent on preventing the grab from being pooped.  He felt no alarm; indeed, the storm exhilarated him; danger is bracing to a courageous spirit, and his blood leaped to this contest with the elements.  He thrilled with a sense of personal triumph as he realized that the grab was a magnificent sea boat.  There was no fear but that the hull would stand the strain; Desmond knew the pains that had been expended in her building:  the careful selection of the timbers, the niceness with which the planks had been fitted.  No European vessel could have proved her superior in seaworthiness.

But she was fast drifting out into the Indian Ocean, far away from the haven Desmond desired to make.  How long was this going to last?  Whither was he being carried?  Without chart or compass he could take no bearings, set no true course.  It was a dismal prospect, and Desmond, glowing as he was with the excitement of the fight, yet felt some anxiety.  Luckily, besides the provisions brought in their bundles by the fugitives, there was a fair supply of food and water on board; for although every portable article of value had been taken on shore when the grab anchored in Gheria, it had not been thought necessary to remove the bulkier articles.  Thus, if at the worst the vessel were driven far out to sea, there was no danger of starvation, even if she could not make port for several days.

But Desmond hoped that things would not come to this pass.  Towards nightfall, surely, the squall would blow itself out.  Yet the wind appeared to be gaining rather than losing strength; hour after hour passed, and he still could not venture to quit the wheel.  He was drenched through and through with the rain; his muscles ached with the stress; and he could barely manage to eat the food and water brought him staggeringly by the serang in the intervals of the wilder gusts.

The storm had lasted for nearly ten hours before it showed signs of abatement.  Another two hours passed before it was safe to leave the helm.  The wind had by this time fallen to a steady breeze; the rain had ceased; the sky was clear and starlit; but the sea was still running high.  At length the serang offered to steer while the others got a little rest; and intrusting the wheel to him Desmond and Fuzl Khan threw themselves down as they were, on the deck near the wheel, and were soon fast asleep.

At dawn Desmond awoke to find the grab laboring in a heavy sea, with just steering way on.  The wind had dropped to a light breeze.  The Gujarati was soon up and relieved the serang at the wheel; the rest of the crew, haggard melancholy objects, were set to work to make things shipshape.  Only the Babu remained below; he lay huddled in the cabin, bruised, prostrate, unable to realize that the bitterness of death was past, unable to believe that life had any further interest for him.