Reaching the angle of the wall, they had now perforce to leave its shelter, for their course led past the outskirts of the native town across a comparatively open space.  Fortunately the night was very dark, and here and there on the shore were boats and small huts which afforded some cover.  The tide was on the ebb; and, when they at length struck the jetty, it was at a point some twenty yards from its shoreward end.  Groping beneath it they halted for a moment, then the two Marathas separated themselves from the rest and, with a whispered word of farewell, disappeared like shadows into the blackness.  The sea was not for them, they would take their chance on land.

From a point some distance beyond the end of the jetty shone a faint glimmer of light.  Desmond silently drew the Gujarati’s attention to it.

“They are gambling,” whispered the man.

“So much the better for our chances,” thought Desmond.

Turning to the Babu he whispered:  “Now, Surendra Nath, you know what to do?”

“Yes, sahib.”

Placing their bundles in the woodwork supporting the jetty, five members of the party—­the Biluchis, the Mysoreans, and the Babu—­stole away in the darkness.  Desmond and the Gujarati were left alone.  The Babu placed himself near the end of the jetty to keep guard.  The two Mysoreans struck off thence obliquely for a few yards until they came to a rude open shed in which the Pirate’s carpenters were wont to work during the rains.  From a heap of shavings they drew a small but heavy barrel.  Carrying this between them they made their way with some difficulty back towards the jetty, where they rejoined the Babu.

Meanwhile the Biluchis had returned some distance along the path by which they had come from the fort, then turned off to the left, and came to a place where a number of small boats were drawn up just above high water.  The boats were the ordinary tonis {small boats cut out of the solid tree, used for passing between the shore and larger vessels} of the coast, each propelled by short scull paddles.  Moving quickly but with great caution the Biluchis collected the paddles from all these boats save one, carried them noiselessly down to the water’s edge, waded a few yards into the surf, and, setting down their burdens, pushed them gently seawards.  They then returned to the one boat which they had not robbed of its paddle, and lay down beside it, apparently waiting.

By and by they were joined by the Mysoreans.  The four men lifted the toni, and carrying it down to the jetty, quietly launched it under the shadow of the woodwork.  A few yards away the Babu sat upon the barrel.  This was lifted on board, and one of the men, tearing a long strip from his dhoti, muffled the single paddle.  Then all five men squatted at the waterside, awaiting with true oriental patience the signal for further action.

Not one of them but was aware that the plight of the two sentries they had left behind them in the fort might at any moment be discovered.  The hourly call must be nearly due.  When no response came from the sentry whose beat ended at their shed the alarm would at once be given, and in a few seconds the silent form of the sentinel on the bastion would be found, and the whole garrison would be sped to their pursuit.