The bullet head of one sturdy badmash cracked like an eggshell under the butt of the bold tar's musket; a second received the terrible hook square in the teeth; and a third, no other than Parmiter himself, was caught round the neck at the next lunge of the hook, and flung, with a mighty heave, full into the midst of the defenders. Bulger drew a long breath.

At the same moment Diggle, attacked by the serang, was thrown from his perch on the hackeri and fell among his followers outside the barricade.

There was a moment's lull while both parties recovered their wind. Firing had ceased; to load a matchlock was a long affair, and though the attackers might have divided and come forward in relays with loaded weapons, they would have run the risk of hitting their own friends.

It was to be again a hand-to-hand fight. Diggle was not to be denied.

Desmond, who had jumped down inside the barricade when the pressure was relieved by Bulger, could not but admire the spirit and determination of his old enemy, though it boded ill for his own chance of escape. He was weary; worn out by want of rest and food; almost prostrated by the terrible heat. Looking round his little fort, he felt a tremor as he saw that five out of his twenty-four men were more or less disabled. True, there were now more than a dozen of the enemy in the same or a worse plight; but they could afford their losses, and Desmond indeed wondered why Diggle did not sacrifice a few men in one fierce overwhelming onslaught.

"A hundred rupees to the man who kills the young sahib, two hundred to the man who takes him alive!" cried Diggle to his dusky followers, as though in answer to Desmond's thought.

Then, turning to the discomfited crew of the Good intent, he said: "Sure, my men, you will not be beaten by a boy and a one-armed man. There's a fortune for all of you in those carts. At them again, my men; I'll show you the way."

He was as good as his word. He snatched a long lathi from one of the Bengalis and rushed up the slope to the hackeri nearest the nullah.

Finding a purchase for one end of his club in the woodwork of the wagon, he put forth all his strength in the effort to push it over the edge.

Owing to the length of the lathi he was out of reach of the half pikes in the hands of the boatmen, who had to lunge either over or under the carts.

His unaided strength would have been unequal to the task of moving the hackeri, heavily laden as it was, resting on soft soil, and interlocked with the next. But as soon as his followers saw the aim of his movements, and especially when they found that the defenders could not touch him without exposing themselves, he gained as many eager helpers as could bring their lathis to bear upon the two carts.

Meanwhile the defense at this spot was weak, for the men of the Good Intent had swarmed up to the adjoining carts and were threatening at any moment to force a way over the barricade. They were more formidable enemies than the Bengalis.

Slowly the two hackeris began to move, till the wheels of one hung over the edge of the nullah. One more united heave, and it rolled over, dragging the other cart with it and splitting itself into a hundred fragments on the rocky bottom. Through the gap thus formed in the barricade sprang Diggle, with half a dozen men of the Good Intent and a score of Bengalis.

Desmond gathered his little band into a knot in the center of the inclosure. Then the brazen sun looked down upon a Homeric struggle.

Bulger, brawny warrior of the iron hook, swung his musket like a flail, every now and again shooting forth his more sinister weapon with terrible effect. Desmond, slim and athletic, dashed in upon the enemy with his half pike as they recoiled before Bulger's whirling musket. The rest, now a bare dozen, Bengalis though they were, presented still an undaunted front to the swarm that surged into the narrow space. The hot air grew hotter with the fight.

To avoid being surrounded, the little band instinctively backed towards the edge of the nullah. Diggle exulted as they were pressed remorselessly to the rear. Not a man dreamed of surrender; the temper of the assailants was indeed so savage that nothing but the annihilation of their victims would now satisfy them. Yet Diggle once again bethought himself that Desmond might be worth to him more alive than dead, and in the midst of the clamor Desmond heard him repeat his offer of reward to the man who should capture him.

Diggle himself resolved to make the attempt. Venturing too near, he received an ugly gash from Desmond's pike, promising a permanent mark from brow to chin. This was too much for him. Beside himself with fury, he yelled a command to his men to sweep the pigs over the brink, and, one side of his face livid with rage, the other streaming with blood, he dashed forward at Bulger, who had come up panting to engage him.

He had well timed his rush, for Bulger's musket was at the far end of its pendulum swing, but the old seaman saw his danger in time. With a movement of extraordinary agility in a man of his bulk, he swung on his heel, presenting his side to the rapier that flashed in Diggle's hand.

Parrying the thrust with his hook, he shortened his stump and lunged at Diggle below the belt. His enemy collapsed as if shot; but his followers swept forward over his prostrate body, and it seemed as if, in one brief half minute, the knot of defenders would be hurled to the bottom of the nullah.

But, at this critical moment, assailants and defenders were stricken into quietude by a tumultuous cheer, the cheer of Europeans, from the direction of the gap in the barricade. Weapons remained poised in mid air; every man stood motionless, wondering whether the interruption came from friend or foe. The question was answered on the instant.

"Now, men, have at them!"

With a thrill Desmond recognized the voice. It was the voice of Silas Toley. There was nothing of melancholy in it, nor in the expression of the New Englander as he sprang, cutlass in hand, through the gap. Slow to take fire, when Toley's anger was kindled it blazed with a devouring flame. The crowd of assailants dissolved as if by magic. Before the last of the crew of the Hormuzzeer, lascars and Europeans, had passed into the inclosure, the men of the Good Intent and their Bengali allies were streaming over and under the carts toward the open.

Diggle at the first shock had staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the barricade. As he reached it, a black boy, springing as it were out of the earth, hastened to him and helped him to crawl between the wheels of a cart and down the slope. On the boy's arm he limped toward his horse, tethered to a tree. A wounded wretch was clumsily attempting to mount.

Him Diggle felled; then he crawled painfully into the saddle and galloped away, Scipio Africanus leaping up behind.

By this time his followers were dispersing in all directions--all but eight luckless men who would never more wield cutlass or lathi, and a dozen who lay on one side or other of the barricade, too hard hit to move.

Chapter 23: In which there are many moving events; and our hero finds himself a cadet of John Company.

Diggle's escape passed unnoticed until it was too late to pursue him. At the sight of Toley and his messmates of the Hormuzzeer, Bulger had let fall his musket and dropped to the ground, where he sat mopping his face and crying, "Go it, mateys!" Desmond felt a strange faintness, and leaned dizzily against one of the hackeris. But, revived by a draft from Mr.

Toley's flask, he thanked the mate warmly, and wanted to hear how he had contrived to come up in time.

When Desmond's messenger arrived in Calcutta, Mr. Merriman was away up the river, engaged in very serious business. The messenger had applied to the governor, to members of the Council, to Captain Minchin and other officers, and the reply of one and all was the same: they could do nothing; it was more important that every man should be employed in strengthening the defenses of Calcutta than in going upcountry on what might prove a vain and useless errand. But Toley happened to be in the town, and learning of the difficulties and perils of his friend Burke, with the captain's consent he had hastily collected the crew of the Hormuzzeer, that still lay off the fort, and led them, under the guidance of the messenger, to support him. Meeting Surendra Nath, and learning from him that a fight was imminent, he had pushed on with all speed, the Babu leading the way.

"It was well done," said Desmond warmly. "We owe our lives to you, and Mr. Merriman his goods. But what was the business that took Mr. Merriman from Calcutta at this time of trouble?"

"Trouble of his own, Burke," said Mr. Toley. "I guess he'd better have let the Nawab keep his goods and sent you to look after his womenfolk."

"What do you mean? I left the ladies at Khulna; what has happened to them?"

"'Tis what Mr. Merriman would fain know. They've disappeared, gone clean out of sight."

"But the peons?"

"Gone, too. Nothing heard or seen of them."

This serious news came as a shock to Desmond. If he had only known! How willingly he would have let Coja Solomon do what he pleased with the goods, and hastened to the help of the wife and daughter Mr. Merriman held so dear! While in Cossimbazar, he had heard from Mr. Watts terrible stories of the Nawab's villainy, which no respect of persons held in check. He feared that if Mrs. Merriman and Phyllis had indeed fallen into Sirajuddaula's hands, they were lost to their family and friends forever.

But, eager as he was to get back to Calcutta and join Mr. Merriman in searching for them, he had a strange certainty that it was not to be. The faintness that he had already felt returned. His head was burning and throbbing; his ears buzzed; his limbs ached; his whole frame was seized at moments with paroxysms of shivering which no effort could control.

Unknown to himself the seeds of malarial fever had found a lodgment in his system. While listening to Toley's story, he had reclined on the ground. When he tried to rise, he was overcome by giddiness and nausea.

"I am done up," he continued. "Mr. Toley, you must take charge and get these goods conveyed to Calcutta. Lose no time."

Surendra Nath recognized the symptoms of the disease, and immediately had a litter improvised for Desmond out of the linen covering of one of the carts and a couple of muskets. Mr. Toley at once made preparations for moving on with the convoy. The hackeriwallahs who had driven off the cattle had not gone far; they had waited in the hope of getting the bakshish promised them--if not from the young sahib, at least from the leader of the attacking party, which from its numbers they believed would gain the day.

The oxen were soon yoked up. Mr. Toley would not wait to recover the loads of the carts that had toppled into the nullah, nor would he leave men for that purpose, lest another attack should be made on them from Hugli. He set off as soon as the teams were ready. Half an hour after they started, Bulger, walking beside the litter, saw to his dismay that Desmond had lost consciousness.

It was nearly a fortnight later when Desmond came to himself in his old bunk on board the Hormuzzeer. He was alone. Lying on his back, feebly trying to adjust his thoughts to his surroundings, he heard the faint boom of guns. What was happening? He tried to rise, but all power was gone from him; he could hardly lift an arm. Even the slight effort was too much for him, and he swooned again.

When he once more recovered consciousness, he saw a figure by his side.

It was Mr. Toley. Again the distant thunder of artillery fell upon his ears.

"What is happening?" he asked feebly.

"Almighty be praised!" said Toley fervently, "you're coming safe to port.

Hush! Lie you still. You'll want nussin' like a babby. Never you heed the popguns; I'll tell you all about them when you're stronger. Food, sleep, and air; that's my catechism, larned from the surgeon. Bless you, Burke, I feared you was a done man."

With this Desmond had to be for the time content. But every day he heard firing, and every day, as he slowly regained strength, he became more and more anxious to know what it meant. Toley seemed to have left the ship; Desmond was tended only by natives.

From them he learned that the Nawab was attacking Calcutta. How were the defenders faring? They could not tell. He knew how small was the garrison, how weak the fortifications; but, with an English lad's unconquerable faith in his countrymen's valor, he could not believe that they could fail to hold their own.

One day, however, he heard no more firing. In the afternoon Mr. Toley came to his bunk, bringing with him Mr. Merriman himself. The merchant had his head bound up, and wore his left arm in a sling. He was pale, haggard, the shadow of his former self.

"What has happened, sir?" cried Desmond the instant he saw him. "Are the ladies safe?"

"God pity us, Desmond! I shall never see them again. My poor Dora! my sweet Phyllis! They are lost! All is lost! The Nawab has taken the fort.

We are beaten, shamed, ruined!"

"How did it happen? I heard the firing. Tell me; it can not be so bad as that. Sure something can be done!"