ard the Tremukji, the harbor master
led Desmond to his house near the docks. Here, while a native barber
plied his dexterous razor on Desmond's cheeks and chin, Mr. Johnson
searched through a miscellaneous hoard of clothes in one of his capacious
presses for an outfit. He found garments that proved a reasonable fit,
and Desmond, while dressing, gave a rapid sketch of his adventures since
he left the prison shed in Gheria.

"My wigs, but you've had a time of it. Mutiny and all! Dash my buttons,
here's a tale for the ladies! Let me look at you. Yes, you'll do now, and
faith you're a pretty fellow. And Dick Burke's son! You've got his nose
to a T; no nonsense about that. Now you're ready to make your bow to Mr.
Bourchier. He's been a coursing match with Colonel Clive and Mr. Watson
{it was customary to use the title Mr. in speaking to or of both naval
and military officers} up Malabar Hill, and we'll catch him before he
sits down to supper.

"How do you feel inside, by the way? Ready for a decent meal after the
Pirate's pig's wash, eh?"

"I'm quite comfortable inside," said Desmond, smiling, "but, to tell you
the truth, Mr. Johnson, I feel mighty uneasy outside. After six months of
the dhoti these breeches and things seem just like bandages."

"It en't the first time you've been swaddled, if you had a mother. Well
now, if you're ready. What! That rascal gashed you! Tuts! 'tis a scratch.
Can't wait to doctor that. Come on."

The two made their way into the fort inclosure, and walked rapidly to the
Government House in the center. In answer to Mr. Johnson the darwan
{doorkeeper} at the door said that the governor would not return that
night. After the coursing match he was giving a supper party at his
country house at Parell.

"That's a nuisance. But we can't have any nonsense. The governor's a bit
of an autocrat; too much starch in his shirt, I say; but we'll go out to
Parell and beard him, by Jove! 'Tis only five miles out, and we'll drive
there in under an hour."

Turning away he hurried out past the tank house on to the Green, and by
good luck found an empty shigram {carriage like a palanquin on wheels}
waiting to be hired. Desmond mounted the vehicle with no little
curiosity. These great beasts with their strange humps would surely not
cover five miles in less than an hour. But he was undeceived when they
started. The two sturdy oxen trotted along at a good pace in obedience to
the driver's goad, and the shig