But below him was the nullah, thirty feet deep, eighty yards wide, soon to be a swollen torrent dashing towards the Hugli, but now dry.  Its sides were in parts steep, and unscalable in face of determined resistance.  In a moment Desmond saw the utmost of possibility.

Running back to the convoy, he turned its head towards the mound, and, calling every man to the help of the oxen, he dragged the carts one by one to the top.  There he caused the beasts to be unyoked, and placed the hackeris, their poles interlocked, so as to form a rough semicircular breastwork around the summit of the mound.  For a moment he hesitated in deciding what to do with the cattle.  Should he keep them within his little intrenchment?  If they took fright they might stampede and do mischief; in any case they would be in the way, and he resolved to send them all off under charge of such of the drivers as were too timid to remain.  He noticed that the Babu was quivering with alarm.

“Surendra Nath,” he said, “this is no place for you.  Slip away quietly; go towards Calcutta; and if you meet Mr. Merriman coming in response to my message, tell him the plight we are in and ask him to hasten to our help.”

“I do not like to show the white feather, sir,” said the Babu.

“Not at all, Babu, we must have a trustworthy messenger:  you are the man.  Now get away as fast as you can.”

The Babu departed on his errand with the speed of gladness and relief.

The ground sloped sharply outward from the carts, and the rear of the position was formed by the nullah.  The last two hackeris were being placed in position when the vanguard of the pursuers, with Diggle at their head, came to a point just out of range.  The party was larger than Desmond had estimated it to be at his first hasty glance.  There were some twenty men armed with matchlocks, and forty with swords and lathis.  All were natives.

His heart sank as he measured the odds against him.  What was his dismay when he saw, half a mile off, another body following up.  And these were white men!  Was Diggle bringing the French of Chandernagore into the fray?

Desmond posted his twelve armed peons behind the hackeris.  He gave them strict orders to fire only at the word of command, and as they had undergone some discipline in Calcutta he hoped that, if only in self preservation, they would maintain a certain steadiness.  Behind them he placed twelve sturdy boatmen armed with half pikes, instructing them to take the place of the peons when they had fired.  Bulger stood at the midpoint of the semicircle; his rough square face was a deep purple with a rim of black; his dhoti had become loosened, leaving his great shoulders and brawny chest bare; his turban was awry; his eyes, bloodshot with the heat, were as the eyes of Mars himself, burning with the fire of battle.

The pursuers had halted.  Diggle came forward, trotting his horse up to the base of the mound.  The peons fingered their matchlocks and looked expectant; Bulger growled; but Desmond gazed calmly at his enemy.