"What grab is that?" he shouted in Urdu, as he came alongside.
"The Tremukji, sir," replied Desmond in English.
"Eh! what! who in the name of Jupiter are you?"
"You'd better come aboard, sir, and I'll explain," said Desmond with a smile.
The harbor master mounted the side, rapping out sundry exclamations of astonishment that amused Desmond not a little.
"Don't talk like a native! H'm! Queer! Turn him inside out! No nonsense!"
"Well, here I am," he added, stepping up to Desmond. "My name's Johnson, and I'm harbor master. Now then, explain; no nonsense."
Desmond liked the look of the little man. He was short and stout, with a very large red face, a broad turn-up nose, and childlike blue eyes that bespoke confidence at once.
"My name is Desmond Burke, sir, and I've run away from Gheria in this grab."
"The deuce you have!"