"It is Kulaba, sahib."
"Where is Kulaba?"
"A few miles south of Bombay, sahib."
"Good. Run up the fore-topsail."
He went to the wheel.
"Thank you, serang. I will relieve you. Go forward and see that the men crowd on all sail."
The mutiny had been snuffed out; the men went about their work quietly, with the look of whipped dogs; and barring accidents Desmond knew that before long he would make Bombay and be safe. With every stitch of canvas set, the vessel soon showed that she had the heels of her pursuers. Before she could draw clear, two of them came within range with their bow chasers, and their shot whistled around somewhat too close to be comfortable. But she steadily drew ahead, and ere long it was seen that the four grabs were being hopelessly outpaced. They kept up the chase for the best part of an hour, but as they neared the British port they recognized that they were running into danger and had the discretion to draw off.
Now that the pursuit was over, Desmond ventured to steer due northeast, and the coastline became more distinctly visible. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon, judging by the height of the sun, when the serang, pointing shorewards, said:
"There is Bombay, sahib."
"You are sure?"