s knees tremble under
him. What was the Pirate saying? That he was the subject of their
conversation was plain from the glances thrown at him; that he was at a
crisis in his fate he knew by instinct; but, ignorant of the tongue they
spoke, he could but wait in fearful anxiety and mistrust.

He learned afterwards the purport of the talk.

"That is your man?" said Angria. 'You have deceived me. I looked for a
man of large stature and robust make, like the Englishmen I already have.
What good will this slim, starved stripling be in my barge?"

"You must not be impatient, huzur {lord}," replied Diggle. "He is a
stripling, it is true; slim, certainly; starved--well, the work on board
ship does not tend to fatten a man. But give him time; he is but sixteen
or seventeen years old, young in my country. In a year or two, under your
regimen, he will develop; he comes of a hardy stock, and already he can
make himself useful. He was one of the quickest and handiest on board our
ship, though this was his first voyage."

"But you yourself admit that he is not yet competent for the oar in my
barge. What is to recompense me for the food he will eat while he is
growing? No, Diggle sahib, if I take him I must have some allowance off
the price. In truth, I will not take him unless you send me from your
vessel a dozen good muskets. That is my word."

"Still, huzur--" began Diggle, but Angria cut him short with a gesture of
impatience.

"That is my word, I say. Shall I, Tulaji Angria, dispute with you? I will
have twenty muskets, or you may keep the boy."

Diggle shrugged and smiled.

"Very well, huzur. You drive a hard bargain; but it shall be as you say.
I will send a chit to the captain, and you shall have the muskets before
the ship sails."

Angria made a sign to one of his attendants. The man approached Desmond,
took him by the sleeve, and signed for him to come away. Desmond threw a
beseeching look at Diggle, and said hurriedly:

"Mr. Diggle, please tell me--"

But Angria rose to his feet in wrath, and shouted to the man who had
Desmond by the sleeve. Desmond made no further resistance. His head swam
as he passed between the dusky ranks out into the courtyard.

"What does it all mean?" he asked himself.

His guide hurried him along until they came to a barn-like building under
the northwest angle of the fort. The Maratha unlocked the door, signed to
Desmond to enter, and locked him in. He was alone.

He spent three