Towards midday the wind dropped almost to a dead calm. This was disappointing, for Desmond suspected that he was still within the area of Angria’s piratical operations--if not from Gheria, at any rate from some of the more northerly strongholds not yet captured by the East India Company or the Peshwa. But he had a good offing: scanning the horizon all around he failed to sight a single sail; and he hoped that the breeze would freshen as suddenly as it had dropped. Now that excitement and suspense were over, and there was nothing that called for activity, Desmond felt the natural reaction from the strain he had undergone. By midday he was so tired and sleepy that he found himself beginning to doze at the wheel. The Gujarati had been sleeping for some hours, and as the vessel now required scarcely any attention, Desmond thought it a good opportunity for snatching a rest. Calling to Fuzl Khan to take his place, and bidding him keep the vessel’s head, as far as he could, due north, he went below. About six bells, as time would have been reckoned on the _Good Intent_, he was wakened by the Babu, with a message from the Gujarati desiring him to come on deck. "Is anything wrong, Babu?" he asked, springing up. "Not so far as I am aware, sahib. Only it is much hotter since I began my watch." Desmond had hardly stepped on deck before he understood the reason of the summons. Overhead all was clear; but towards the land a dense bank of black cloud was rising, and approaching the vessel with great rapidity. It was as though some vast blanket were being thrown seawards. The air was oppressively hot, and the sea lay like lead. Desmond knew the signs; the Gujarati knew them too; and they set to work with a will to meet the storm. Fortunately Desmond, recognizing the unhandiness of his crew, had taken care to set no more sail than could be shortened at the briefest notice. He had not been called a moment too soon. A flash lit the black sky; a peal of thunder rattled like artillery far off; and then a squall struck the grab with terrific force, and the sea, suddenly lashed into fury, advanced like a cluster of green liquid mountains to overwhelm the vessel. She heeled bulwarks under, and was instantly wrapped in a dense mist, rain pouring in blinding sheets. The maintopsail was blown away with a report like a gun-shot; and then, under a reefed foresail, the grab ran before the wind, which was apparently blowing from the south-east. Furious seas broke over the deck; the wind shrieked through the rigging; the vessel staggered and plunged under the shocks of sea and wind. Fuzl Khan clung to the helm with all his strength, but his arms were almost torn from their sockets, and he called aloud for Desmond to come to his assistance.