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 enclosure, the men of the _Good Intent_ and their Bengali allies were streaming over and under the carts towards the open. Diggle at the first shock had staggered to his feet and stumbled towards 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 towards his horse, tethered to a tree. A wounded wretch was clumsily attempting to mount. Him Diggle felled; then he climbed 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 THE TWENTY-THIRD *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 leant dizzily against one of the hackeris. But, revived by a draught from Mr. Toley’s flask, he thanked the mate warmly, and wanted to hear how he had contrived to come up in time.