The possibility of this ending to his adventure struck a chill to the midshipman's brave young heart, but his family motto happened to be "_Nil desperandum_," and he had never yet, in his short career, failed to act up to it. Indeed, a braver or more resourceful boy than Jack Villiers it would be difficult to find, even in that nursery of heroes, Her Majesty's Royal Navy. Therefore the middy soon plucked up his spirits and began to turn over some problems in his mind--problems of escape from durance vile. "I'd give anything to know," muttered Jack to himself, "whether those bluejackets on board the dhow recognised me as an Englishman or not. In this rig they might easily have taken me for an Oriental, for some of these Arabs are as fair as a European. I wonder what cruiser they belonged to? Could they have been some of my own shipmates? What luck if they were! Even then, however, the skipper might think it too risky to send an expedition up-country. He would probably try and treat with the beggars instead, and meanwhile I may have a knife stuck into me." The middy was almost in complete darkness, for there was no window to the hut, and when his guards had thrown him down upon the earthen floor they had gone outside to mount guard, shutting the palm-leaf door behind them and carefully securing it. A few straggling rays of light came in through chinks here and there, but they could not disperse the depressing gloom of the interior. Jack's head ached: the effects of the blow the Arabs had dealt him, coupled with the long march under the almost intolerable rays of a vertical sun; and for a time his thoughts did not take a very definite shape. About an hour after his arrival in the village, some armed natives, in no way resembling the Arabs, entered the hut, bearing a small bunch of bananas and an earthenware pitcher containing goats' milk. These they placed on the floor beside the prisoner, removed the lashing from his arms, and then without a word glided outside and resumed their vigilant watch and ward. "I'm glad they haven't forgotten the grub," said Jack to himself; "for when one is down in the mouth one wants to be figged up a bit." After munching a few bananas and taking a good long pull at the pitcher our hero felt more himself, and was thankful to get his arms free for a short time, for the numerous turns of rope had made them very stiff and uncomfortable. The guards re-entered, replaced the lashing with almost brutal force, and then withdrew again. "No, I've not forgotten the dodge those fellows at Guildford Fair taught me," muttered Jack, who had been lost in profound thought for some minutes, "and I really believe I could get my arms free if I wanted to. Then if I only had a knife or some sort of tool it might be possible to hack one's way through these flimsy walls, which are only made of dried palm-leaves or something of that sort."