Turning things over in his mind, and seeing no way out of his difficulty, he was at length summoned to relieve the Gujarati at the wheel.  It was, he supposed, about four in the morning, and still pitch dark.  When he came to the helm Fuzl Khan was alone:  there was nothing to betray the fact that the plotters had, but little before, been gathered around him.  The lookout, who had left his post to join the group, had returned forward, and was now being relieved, like the Gujarati himself.

Desmond exchanged a word or two with the man, and was left alone at the wheel.  His mind was still set on the problem how to frustrate the scheme of the mutineers.  He was convinced that if the grab once touched shore at any point save Bombay his plight would be hopeless.  But how could he guard against the danger?  Even if he could keep the navigation of the grab entirely in his own hands by remaining continuously at the helm, he was dependent on the plotters for information about the coast; to mislead him would be the easiest thing in the world.  But it suddenly occurred to him that he might gain time by altering the course of the vessel.  If he kept out of sight of land he might increase the chance of some diversion occurring.

Accordingly he so contrived that the grab lost rather than gained in her tacks against the light northwest wind now blowing.  None of the men, except possibly the Gujarati, had sufficient seamanship to detect this manoeuver; he had gone below, and when he came on deck again he could not tell what progress had been made during his absence.  Only the mainsail, foresail, and one topsail were set:  these were quite enough for the untrained crew to trim in the darkness—­likely to prove too much, indeed, in the event of a sudden squall.  Thus the process of going about was a long and laborious one, and at the best much way was lost.

Not long after he had begun to act on this idea he was somewhat concerned to see the serang, who was in charge of the deck watch, come aft and hang about near the wheel, as though his curiosity had been aroused.  Had he any suspicions?  Desmond resolved to address the man and see what he could infer from the manner of his reply.

“Is all well, serang?”

“All well, sahib,” answered the man.  He stopped, and seemed to hesitate whether to say more; but after a moment or two he moved slowly away.

Desmond watched him.  Had he discovered the trick?  Would he go below and waken Fuzl Khan?  Desmond could not still a momentary tremor.  But the serang did not rejoin his mess mates, nor go below.  He walked up and down the deck alone.  Apparently he suspected nothing.

Desmond felt relieved; but though he was gaining time, he could but recognize that it seemed likely to profit him little.  A criminal going to execution may step never so slowly across the prison yard; there is the inexorable gallows at the end, and certain doom.