n he has deserted confront him."

While Mr. Merriman was telling his story, the Hormuzzeer was slowly
drifting down the river. At Surman's garden, about five miles south of
Calcutta, it joined the other vessels belonging to British owners, and
dropped anchor. Several gentlemen came on board, eager to learn what had
been the last scene in the tragic drama. Mr. Merriman told them all he
knew, and every one drew a long breath of relief when they learned that
though prisoners, Mr. Holwell and the gallant few who had stuck to their
posts had been assured of good treatment. During the day the vessel
dropped still lower down the river to Budge Budge, running the gauntlet
of a brisk but ineffective fire from Tanna Fort, now in the hands of the
Nawab's troops.

When the Hormuzzeer lay at anchor at Budge Budge, Mr. Merriman explained
to Desmond the plans he had formed for him. The vessel now had her full
cargo, and would sail immediately for Penang. Mr. Merriman proposed that
Desmond should make the voyage. In his weak state the climate of Fulta,
where the Europeans intended to stay until help reached them from Madras,
might prove fatal to him; while the sea air would complete his cure.

His share of the sale price of the Tremukji, together with the Gheria
prize money, amounted to more than a thousand pounds, and this had been
invested for him by his friend.

"For myself," added Merriman, "I shall remain. My wounds are not severe;
I am accustomed to the climate; and though India is now odious to me, I
shall not leave Indian soil until I find traces of my dear wife and
daughter. God grant that by the time you return I shall have some news of
them."

Desmond would have liked to remain with the merchant, but he knew that in
his weakness he could do him no service, and he acquiesced in the
arrangement.

That same evening the fugitives received news that made their blood run
cold. Two Englishmen, Messrs. Cooke and Lushington, who had remained
staunchly by Mr. Holwell's side, came from the shore in a small boat and
boarded the Dodalay. Their appearance struck every one with amazement and
horror. Mr. Cooke was a merchant, aged thirty-one; Mr. Lushington a
writer in the Company's service, his age eighteen; but the events of one
night had altered them almost beyond recognition. They said that when the
order had been given to confine them in the barracks, the prisoners had
all expected to pass the night in comparative comfort. What