ut 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.

Desmond's position was perplexing. Where was he? Perforce he had lost his
bearings. He scanned the whole circumference of the horizon, and saw
nothing but the vast dark ocean plain and its immense blu