and Desmond found himself a prisoner with eight others.

For a little they spoke among themselves, in the low tones of men utterly
spent and dispirited. Then all was silent, and they slept. But Desmond
lay wide awake, waiting for the morning.

The shed was terribly hot. Air came only through the one narrow opening,
and before an hour was past the atmosphere was foul, seeming the more
horrible to Desmond by contrast with the freshness of his life on the
ocean. Mosquitoes nipped him until he could scarcely endure the intense
irritation. He would have given anything for a little water; but though
he heard a sentry pacing up and down outside, he did not venture to call
to him, and could only writhe in heat and torture, longing for the dawn,
yet fearing it and what it might bring forth.

Worn and haggard after his sleepless night, Desmond had scarcely spirit
enough to look with curiosity on his fellow prisoners when the shed was
faintly lit by the morning sun. But he saw that the eight men, all
natives, were lying on crude charpoys {mat beds} along the wall, each man
chained to a staple like his own. One of the men was awake; and, catching
Desmond's lusterless eyes fixed upon him, he sat up and returned his
gaze.

"Your Honor is an English gentleman?"

The words caused Desmond to start: they were so unexpected in such a
place. The Indian spoke softly and carefully, as if anxious not to awaken
his companions.

"Yes," replied Desmond. "Who are you?"

"My name, sir, is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti. I was lately a clerk in the
employ of a burra {great} sahib, English factor, at Calcutta."

"How did you get here?"

"That, sahib, is a moving tale. While on a visit of condolence to my
respectable uncle and aunt at Chittagong, I was kidnapped by Sandarband
piratical dogs. Presto!--at that serious crisis a Dutch ship makes
apparition and rescues me; but my last state is more desperate than the
first. The Dutch vessel will not stop to replace me on mother earth; she
is for Bombay, across the kala pani {black water}, as we say. I am not a
swimmer; besides, what boots it?--we are ten miles from land, to say
nothing of sharks and crocodiles and the lordly tiger. So I perforce
remain, to the injury of my caste, which forbids navigation. But see the
issue. The Dutch ship is assaulted; grabs and gallivats galore swarm upon
the face of the waters; all is confusion worse confounded; in a brace of
shakes we are in the toils. It is no