"Speak soft, I pray," he said.
"My head is on fire," continued Desmond. "I cannot sleep. I have been thinking. What is life worth to us? Can anything be worse than our present lot? Do you ever think of escape?"
"What good, sir? I have said so before. We are fettered; what can we do? There is but one thing that all men in our plight desire; that is death."
"Nonsense! I do not desire death. This life is hateful, but while we live there is something to hope for, and I for one am not content to endure lifelong misery. I mean to escape."
"It is easy to say, but the doing--that is impossible."
"How can we tell that unless we try? The men who tried to escape did not think it impossible. They might have succeeded--who can say?--if Fuzl Khan had not betrayed them."
"And he is still with us. He would betray us again."
"I am not sure of that. See what he has suffered! Today his whole body must have writhed with pain. But for the majum {a preparation of hemp} he has smoked and the plentiful ghi {clarified butter} we rubbed him with, he would be moaning now. I think he will be with us if we can only find out a way. You have been here longer than I; can not you help me to form a plan?"
"No, sahib; my brain is like running water. Besides, I am afraid. If we could get rid of our fetters and escape we might have to fight. I cannot fight; I am not a man of war; I am commercial."
"But you will help me if I can think of a plan?"