Three days later the dhow was bowling along up the Mozambique Channel with the Madagascar coast showing broad on the starboard beam.

Peter was once more in charge of things. He had made a quick recovery from his hurts, although he still experienced a difficulty in swallowing.

Preston too was making favourable progress. His latest wound was a clean cut. Up to the present there had been no complications, and his amateur nurses had good reason to think that none would be forthcoming.

With Mahmed things were different. Twenty-four hours elapsed before he regained consciousness. He was suffering from at least half a dozen deep knife wounds and several others of a lesser degree of danger. In addition to a serious loss of blood, he was in a high fever.

Peter was greatly concerned over the dangerous state of his trusty servant. He had thought of putting into the nearest port in Madagascar and landing Mahmed for medical treatment, but the boy besought Mostyn Sahib so fervently that he should not be left that Peter decided to carry on.

There was no longer any doubt about the dhow\'s position. On board, Mostyn had discovered, amongst other articles of navigation, a British-made sextant, and, as soon as the Acting Chief recovered sufficiently Preston had fixed the latitude. The absence of a chronometer mattered little, since the Madagascar coast was visible to starboard.

By the aid of Arab charts it was found that the dhow was now within six hundred miles of Pangawani, the nearest port in the Kilba Protectorate, and, indeed, the nearest territory under British rule. Provided the wind held, the dhow ought to reel off those six hundred miles in from five to six days.

Everything considered, Peter congratulated himself. In a stout, weatherly craft, although on very unconventional lines according to British standards, there was little cause for anxiety on the score of danger. There were ample provisions of sorts, and sufficient fresh water to enable the dhow to carry on without being under the necessity of putting into any port to revictual.

The Arab prisoners gave little trouble. Given food and water and medical stores of their own providing, they accepted the changed conditions with typical Moslem fatalism. Twice a day they were allowed on deck singly, ostentatiously covered by Mostyn with his automatic; and, without the slightest show of opposition, they returned to their place of captivity in the hold directly they were so ordered.

Amongst other articles discovered in the Arab captain\'s cabin was a leather bag, containing gold and silver coins of an approximate value of ￡120. This Peter placed in a large trunk, which, in default of lock and key, was secured by driving in several long nails. He told no one of his find, but resolved to hand over the money to the port authorities as soon as the dhow arrived at Pangawani.

After distinguishing herself by knocking out her Arab assailant and making herself useful until Peter was able to resume control, Mrs. Shallop had drifted back into her old style. For hours at a stretch she remained in the cabin assigned to her. When she did appear she indulged in outbursts of complaints against everything in general.

Peter now suffered her in silence. He could afford to do so, knowing that within the next few days he would be relieved both of her company and his responsibility.

On the fifth day following the acquisition of the dhow, the Comoro Islands were sighted on the starboard bow. There were now plenty of craft to be seen, from tramp steamers to dhows. Mostyn let them pass without attempting to communicate. A sort of spirit of independence possessed him. Having gone thus far without outside assistance he was determined to see the business through. Had urgent necessity arisen he would have stopped a large vessel and requested medical attention, but Mahmed was making good progress, and was so emphatic in his desire to remain with his master, that any thwarting of his wishes in that direction would have more than counterbalanced any good that a doctor might have done.

It was not until the morning of the eighth day that land was sighted on the port bow. Once again, after days of adventure, Mostyn was gazing upon the African mainland.

"You\'ll have to be jolly careful how you approach Pangawani Harbour, old son," cautioned Preston for the twentieth time. "For goodness sake don\'t put the old hooker on the bar and kipper the show."

"I don\'t intend to," replied the cautious Peter. "The Arab chart isn\'t much good. It\'s on too small a scale. I\'ll bring up and signal for a pilot, unless there\'s another vessel making the port. If so, I\'ll follow her in."

As ill luck would have it the wind dropped about midday, and Mostyn had the mortification of seeing the entrance to Pangawani Harbour at less than five miles away, without being able to gain a hundred yards through the water. At times the dhow was appreciably drifting away from the desired haven. Until close on sunset she was becalmed. Then a stiff off-shore breeze sprang up.

There was no help for it. Throughout the night the dhow was under way close hauled, passing and repassing the entrance without being able to cross the bar. Even after the wind had freed her, Peter would not have risked the intricate entrance............