Desmond glanced at the sleeping forms.

“No, sir, they are not here,” said the Babu {equivalent to Mr.; applied by the English to the native clerk}, catching his look.  “They share another apartment with your countrymen—­chained?  Oh, yes!  These, my bedfellows of misfortune, are Indians, not of Bengal, like myself; two are Biluchis hauled from a country ship; two are Mussulmans from Mysore; one a Gujarati; two Marathas.  We are a motley crew—­a miscellany, no less.”

“What do they do with you in the daytime?”

“I, sir, adjust accounts of the Pirate’s dockyard; for this I am qualified by prolonged driving of quill in Calcutta, to expressed satisfaction of Honorable John Company and English merchants.  But my position, sir, is of Damoclean anxiety.  I am horrified by conviction that one small error of calculation will entail direst retribution.  Videlicet, sir, this week a fellow captive is minus a finger and thumb—­and all for oversight of six annas {the anna is the 16th part of a rupee}.  But I hear the step of our jailer; I must bridle my tongue.”

The Babu had spoken throughout in a low monotonous tone that had not disturbed the slumbers of his fellow prisoners.  But they were all awakened by the noisy opening of the door and the entrance of their jailer.  He went to each in turn, and unlocked their fetters; then they filed out in dumb submission, to be escorted by armed sentries to the different sheds where they fed, each caste by itself.

When the eight had disappeared the jailer turned to Desmond, and, taking him by the sleeve, led him across the courtyard into the palace.  Here, in a little room, he was given a meager breakfast of rice; after which he was taken to another room where he found Angria in company with a big Maratha, who had in his hand a long bamboo cane.  The Pirate was no longer in durbar {council, ceremonial} array, but was clad in a long yellow robe with a lilac-colored shawl.

Conscious that he made a very poor appearance in his tatters, Desmond felt that the two men looked at him with contempt.  A brief conversation passed between them; then the Maratha salaamed to Angria and went from the room, beckoning Desmond to follow him.  They went out of the precincts of the palace, and through a part of the town, until they arrived at the docks.  There the laborers, slaves and free, were already at work.  Desmond at the first glance noticed several Europeans among them, miserable objects who scarcely lifted their heads to look at this latest newcomer of their race.  His guide called up one of the foremen shipwrights, and instructed him to place the boy among a gang of the workmen.  Then he went away.  Scarcely a minute had elapsed when Desmond heard a cry, and looking round, saw the man brutally belaboring with his rattan the bare shoulders of a native.  He quivered; the incident seemed of ill augury.