Now the Tyger was full in sight, and behind her Desmond saw the well-remembered Kent, Admiral Watson's flagship. The stampede from the forts had evidently been observed on board, for firing had ceased, and boats were already being lowered and filled with men. Desmond waited. The Tyger's boats, he saw, were making for Tanna Fort: the Kent's for Aligarh. But one of the latter was heading straight for the sloop. Desmond could not resist the temptation to a joke. Making himself look as important as he could, he stood by the gunwale watching with an air of dignity the oncoming of the boat. It was in command of a young lieutenant. The men bent to their oars with a will, and Desmond could soon hear the voice of the officer as he called to his crew.
But his amusement was mingled with amazement and delight when, in the big form sitting in the bow of the boat, he recognized no other than his old messmate, his old comrade in the Battle of the Carts--William Bulger. The joke would be even better than he had expected. The boat drew closer: it was level with the nose of the sloop; and the lieutenant sang out the command, "Ship oars!" It came alongside.
"Bulger," cried the lieutenant, "skip aboard and announce us to that old peacock on deck."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Bulger, "which his feathers will be plucked, or my name en't Bulger."
At the side of the sloop lay the dinghy intended to convey the subahdar and his men ashore when the work of sinking had been started. It was made fast to the vessel by a rope. Bulger sprang into the dinghy and then began an ascent so clever, and at the same time so comical, that Desmond had much ado not to spoil his joke by a premature explosion of laughter. The burly seaman swarmed up the rope like a monkey, clasping it with his legs as he took each upward grip. But the comedy of his actions was provided by his hook. Having only one arm--an arm, it is true, with the biceps of a giant--he could not clutch the rope in the ordinary way. But at each successive spring he dug his hook into the side of the vessel, and mounted with amazing rapidity, talking to himself all the time.
"Avast, there!" he shouted, as with a final heave upon the hook dug into the gunwale he hoisted himself on deck. "Haul down your colours, matey, which they make a pretty pictur', they do."
He came overpoweringly towards Desmond, his arm and stump spread wide as if to embrace him.
"I may be wrong," said Desmond, "but have I not the pleasure of addressing Mr. William Bulger?"
Bulger started as if shot. His broad face spelt first blank amazement, then incredulity, then surprised belief. Spreading his legs wide and bending his knees, he rested his hand on one and his hook on the other, shut one eye, and stuck his tongue out at the corner of his mouth.
"By the Dutchman!" he exclaimed, "if it don't beat cock-fighting! Sure, 'tis Mr. Burke himself! Anna Maria! But for why did you go for to make yourself sich a Guy Faux guy, sir?"