"And not one of 'em to be trusted, I'll swear. Well I'll put a crew aboard to take charge. Come along; there's no time to lose. Colonel Clive goes to bed early."
"Colonel Clive! Is he here?"
"Yes; arrived from home two days ago. Ah! that reminds me; you're a Shropshire lad; so's he; do you know him?"
"No, sir; I've seen him; I--I----"
Desmond stammered, remembering his unfortunate encounter with Clive in Billiter Street.
"Well, well," said the superintendent, with a quizzical look; "you'll see him again. Come along."
Desmond accompanied Mr. Johnson on shore. A crowd had gathered. There were sepoys in turban, cabay,[#] and baggy drawers; bearded Arabs; Parsis in their square brimless hats; and a various assortment of habitués of the shore--crimps, landsharks, badmashes,[#] bunder[#] gangs. Seeing Desmond hold his nose at the all-prevailing stench of fish Mr. Johnson laughed.
[#] Cloak.
[#] Rowdy characters.
[#] Port.