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?"