Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.Up the Parang River.That evening the anchor was dropped off the mouth of the Parang river; and as the night closed in all eyes were directed to the thickly-wooded country on each side of the stream, whose banks were hidden by the dense growth of mangrove trees, which, now that the tide was up, seemed to be growing right out of the water, which those on board could see through their glasses to be smoothly flowing amidst the stems.Further inland tall columnar nipah palms could be seen fringing the tidal way, and apparently growing amidst the mangroves, with the water washing their roots.Dense green vegetation, and a broad flowing muddy river—that was all that greeted the eyes of the eager lookers-on, till darkness set in. Not a trace of town or village, not even a fisherman’s hut or a boat. All was vegetation and the flowing river.Once Bob Roberts thought he saw a boat coming down the stream, and in the distance it very strangely resembled some little craft with upright mast and dark sail; but as it came nearer it proved to be a patch of root-matted vegetable soil, washed from the bank, and having in the centre a small nipah palm, which slowly passed from might, to be cast ashore upon some mud bank, and again take root.But as the darkness fell, the distant glitter as of tiny sparks amidst the trees took the attention of all. They were too distant to see the phenomenon to perfection; but the faint sparkle was very beautiful as the myriads of fire-flies, by which it was caused, flitted and changed from place to place, which was now dark, now scintillating in a most peculiar manner.The captain had decided not to attempt the passage of the river till morning, all on board being very ignorant of its entrance, though, judging from the configuration of the coast, the most they had to dread was being grounded for a time on some bank of mud or sand. This part of the coast was so sheltered that there was no surf; and when the anchor was let go, the corvette swung round easily, to lie almost without motion on the calm still waters of the river’s mouth.But though no sign of human habitation had been visible, as the night wore on those on board became fully aware of the fact that the jungle had plenty of denizens, for from time to time strange roarings were heard, and then splashings in the water, as of wild creatures bathing. Once or twice too, as Bob Roberts and Ensign Long, companions for the time being, if not friends, leaned over the bulwarks, they fancied they could hear some great beast swimming towards them.“What can it be?” said Bob in an awe-stricken whisper, as the strange snorting and splashing grew nearer.“’Nosserus,” said Dick the sailor, who generally contrived to be pretty close to the youths, and depended upon them largely for his supplies of tobacco. “It’s one on ’em having a wallow, like a big pig, somewhere in the shallows.”“That’s a tiger, isn’t it!” said Tom Long, as a hoarse roar came over the smooth surface of the water.“Shouldn’t wonder, young gentlemen, if it were; but I’ll say good night, for ’taint my watch, and I think a turn in won’t be bad preparation for a hard day to-morrow.”Everyone expected a busy day upon the morrow; but it was long before the two youths could tear themselves away from the side of the vessel, for there was something so mysterious and weird in the look of the black water, in which the stars just glimmered; while right before them all looked dark and strange, save where there was the distant twinkling of the fire-flies, ever changing in position.“Hark!” whispered Long; “there’s a splash again. That can’t be close to the shore.”“No, that’s not a hundred yards from the ship. I say, Long,” whispered Bob with a shudder, “I shouldn’t much like to swim ashore. I’ll be bound to say that was a crocodile.”“I shouldn’t wonder,” was the reply; and they still stood trying to make out the cause of the strange splashing noises, till, utterly tired out, they sought their cots, and were soon fast asleep.The getting up of the anchor roused the two lads soon after daybreak, by which time steam was up; and with the faint morning mists slowly rising like silver gauze above the dense belts of trees, the steamer began slowly to move ahead.The tide was flowing, and the mangroves were deep in the water, though not so deep but that their curious network of roots could be seen, like a rugged scaffold planted in the mud to support each stem; while as they slowly went on, the dense beds of vegetation, in place of being a mile off on either side, grew to be a half a mile, and soon after but a hundred yards, as the steamer seemed to be going straight into a broad bank ahead.As they approached, though, a broad opening became visible, where the course of the stream swung round to the right; and after passing a point, the river rapidly contracted to about a hundred yards in width, and soon after was narrower, but still a smoothly flowing stream by the eternal mangroves. At last some signs of life began to appear, in the shape of an occasional crocodile, which glided off a muddy bank amidst the mangrove roots, into the water. Here and there, too, the long snout of one of these hideous reptiles could be seen, prone on the surface of the water, just above which appeared the eyes, with their prominences, as the reptile turned its head slowly from side to side, in search of some floating object that might prove to be good for food.The sight of these beasts was too much for the officers, who were soon armed with rifles, making shots at the muddy-hued creatures, apparently with no other effect than for the long horny head to slowly sink beneath the water.Captain Smithers proved himself to be the best shot, for after splashing the water with a bullet close to the head of one of the saurians, his attention was drawn to another, between the steamer and the shore, apparently quite unconscious that the vessel could injure it in the least.Judging from the size of the head, this was apparently the largest crocodile that had been seen; and taking long and careful aim, Captain Smithers at last fired, when the monster lashed the water furiously for a few moments with its tail.“He’s hit, and badly,” said Doctor Bolter. “It’s a big one, too. What a splendid specimen it would make!”As he spoke, his words as to the size of the creature were verified, for the crocodile suddenly shot itself half out of the water, showing its head, shoulders, and a good deal of its horny back, before turning over and diving down, displaying its hind legs and tail before it disappeared.“That was eighteen feet long if it was an inch,” said the doctor, excitedly; “but he has gone to the bottom.”“Yes,” said Captain Smithers, quietly reloading, “we shall not see it again. How is your patient, Bolter?”“Oh, pretty well all right again, thanks. It was a lucky escape for the poor fellow.”“Very!” said Captain Smithers, thoughtfully. “What bird is that, doctor?”“A white eagle,” was the reply, as the doctor followed with his glasses the flight of a magnificent bird that rose from a stunted tree, flew across the river, and away over the mangroves on the other side.Soon after, as the steamer still made its way onward in mid-stream, the river being very deep, as shown by the man busy in the chains with the lead, a flame of blue suddenly seemed to dart from a mangrove root, and then another and another, as some of the gorgeously-coloured kingfishers of the peninsula shot off along the surface up the stream.On still, and on, with every one on board eagerly on the look-out for novelties, but all growing somewhat tired of the unbroken succession of dull green mangroves. At last, however, after many hours of slow and cautious progress, the mangroves gave place to tall and beautiful palms, showing evidently that the steamer was now beyond the reach of the tide; and this was farther proved by the fact that the stream was now dead against them, running pretty swiftly, but, in place of being muddy, delightfully clear.Faces that had looked long and solemn as the supposition had grown stronger that the country was nothing better than a mangrove swamp, became more cheery of aspect, especially when, through an opening in the dense clumps of palms with their feathery tops, the blue line of a distant range of hills could be seen.Then came, as they rounded a point, the first trace of human habitation, in the shape of a Malay village, which in the distance bore a marvellous resemblance, in its steep gabled roofs thatched with palm-leaves, to some collection of cottages in far-distant England. But soon it was seen that every cottage was raised upon posts, that the walls were of woven reed or split bamboo, and that the trees that shaded them were cocoa-nut and areca palms.Onward still, but more slowly and cautiously, lest the steamer should take the ground. Now and then scattered patches of cultivation were seen, in the shape of paddy fields; clusters of fruit-trees stood here and there; native boats were drawn right up on the mud, or secured to posts; and now and then buffaloes could be seen, standing knee-deep in the water, with dark-skinned children running to and fro, terribly excited at the sight of the strange ship.Onward still, hour after hour, past village after village, wonderfully same in appearance, and the river still kept broad and deep enough for the navigation of the steamer, till night came on, and she was anchored in mid-stream, with the wild jungle coming close down to the water’s edge on either side.At early morn the journey was continued till a broad reach of the river was ascended, at the far end of which was a good-sized island, in which was a palm-thatched building of some consequence, while, only separated from it by a narrow arm of the river, stood the largest collection of houses they had seen, with what was evidently a mosque by the river side. There was an abundance of boats too, and what strongly resembled a stockade; but what most took up the attention of all on board were a couple of long, low, well-made vessels, each displaying a curious figure-head bearing a faint resemblance to some fabulous monster; and in these armed boats both the soldiers and sailors of the little expedition were quite right in believing that they saw nothing more nor less than the much-talked-of vessels of the kris-bearing pirates of Malaya, the well-known, much-dreaded prahus.

That evening the anchor was dropped off the mouth of the Parang river; and as the night closed in all eyes were directed to the thickly-wooded country on each side of the stream, whose banks were hidden by the dense growth of mangrove trees, which, now that the tide was up, seemed to be growing right out of the water, which those on board could see through their glasses to be smoothly flowing amidst the stems.

Further inland tall columnar nipah palms could be seen fringing the tidal way, and apparently growing amidst the mangroves, with the water washing their roots.

Dense green vegetation, and a broad flowing muddy river—that was all that greeted the eyes of the eager lookers-on, till darkness set in. Not a trace of town or village, not even a fisherman’s hut or a boat. All was vegetation and the flowing river.

Once Bob Roberts thought he saw a boat coming down the stream, and in the distance it very strangely resembled some little craft with upright mast and dark sail; but as it came nearer it proved to be a patch of root-matted vegetable soil, washed from the bank, and having in the centre a small nipah palm, which slowly passed from might, to be cast ashore upon some mud bank, and again take root.

But as the darkness fell, the distant glitter as of tiny sparks amidst the trees took the attention of all. They were too distant to see the phenomenon to perfection; but the faint sparkle was very beautiful as the myriads of fire-flies, by which it was caused, flitted and changed from place to place, which was now dark, now scintillating in a most peculiar manner.

The captain had decided not to attempt the passage of the river till morning, all on board being very ignorant of its entrance, though, judging from the configuration of the coast, the most they had to dread was being grounded for a time on some bank of mud or sand. This part of the coast was so sheltered that there was no surf; and when the anchor was let go, the corvette swung round easily, to lie almost without motion on the calm still waters of the river’s mouth.

But though no sign of human habitation had been visible, as the night wore on those on board became fully aware of the fact that the jungle had plenty of denizens, for from time to time strange roarings were heard, and then splashings in the water, as of wild creatures bathing. Once or twice too, as Bob Roberts and Ensign Long, companions for the time being, if not friends, leaned over the bulwarks, they fancied they could hear some great beast swimming towards them.

“What can it be?” said Bob in an awe-stricken whisper, as the strange snorting and splashing grew nearer.

“’Nosserus,” said Dick the sailor, who generally contrived to be pretty close to the youths, and depended upon them largely for his supplies of tobacco. “It’s one on ’em having a wallow, like a big pig, somewhere in the shallows.”

“That’s a tiger, isn’t it!” said Tom Long, as a hoarse roar came over the smooth surface of the water.

“Shouldn’t wonder, young gentlemen, if it were; but I’ll say good night, for ’taint my watch, and I think a turn in won’t be bad preparation for a hard day to-morrow.”

Everyone expected a busy day upon the morrow; but it was long before the two youths could tear themselves away from the side of the vessel, for there was something so mysterious and weird in the look of the black water, in which the stars just glimmered; while right before them all looked dark and strange, save where there was the distant twinkling of the fire-flies, ever changing in position.

“Hark!” whispered Long; “there’s a splash again. That can’t be close to the shore.”

“No, that’s not a hundred yards from the ship. I say, Long,” whispered Bob with a shudder, “I shouldn’t much like to swim ashore. I’ll be bound to say that was a crocodile.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” was the reply; and they still stood trying to make out the cause of the strange splashing noises, till, utterly tired out, they sought their cots, and were soon fast asleep.

The getting up of the anchor roused the two lads soon after daybreak, by which time steam was up; and with the faint morning mists slowly rising like silver gauze above the dense belts of trees, the steamer began slowly to move ahead.

The tide was flowing, and the mangroves were deep in the water, though not so deep but that their curious network of roots could be seen, like a rugged scaffold planted in the mud to support each stem; while as they slowly went on, the dense beds of vegetation, in place of being a mile off on either side, grew to be a half a mile, and soon after but a hundred yards, as the steamer seemed to be going straight into a broad bank ahead.

As they approached, though, a broad opening became visible, where the course of the stream swung round to the right; and after passing a point, the river rapidly contracted to about a hundred yards in width, and soon after was narrower, but still a smoothly flowing stream by the eternal mangroves. At last some signs of life began to appear, in the shape of an occasional crocodile, which glided off a muddy bank amidst the mangrove roots, into the water. Here and there, too, the long snout of one of these hideous reptiles could be seen, prone on the surface of the water, just above which appeared the eyes, with their prominences, as the reptile turned its head slowly from side to side, in search of some floating object that might prove to be good for food.

The sight of these beasts was too much for the officers, who were soon armed with rifles, making shots at the muddy-hued creatures, apparently with no other effect than for the long horny head to slowly sink beneath the water.

Captain Smithers proved himself to be the best shot, for after splashing the water with a bullet close to the head of one of the saurians, his attention was drawn to another, between the steamer and the shore, apparently quite unconscious that the vessel could injure it in the least.

Judging from the size of the head, this was apparently the largest crocodile that had been seen; and taking long and careful aim, Captain Smithers at last fired, when the monster lashed the water furiously for a few moments with its tail.

“He’s hit, and badly,” said Doctor Bolter. “It’s a big one, too. What a splendid specimen it would make!”

As he spoke, his words as to the size of the creature were verified, for the crocodile suddenly shot itself half out of the water, showing its head, shoulders, and a good deal of its horny back, before turning over and diving down, displaying its hind legs and tail before it disappeared.

“That was eighteen feet long if it was an inch,” said the doctor, excitedly; “but he has gone to the bottom.”

“Yes,” said Captain Smithers, quietly reloading, “we shall not see it again. How is your patient, Bolter?”

“Oh, pretty well all right again, thanks. It was a lucky escape for the poor fellow.”

“Very!” said Captain Smithers, thoughtfully. “What bird is that, doctor?”

“A white eagle,” was the reply, as the doctor followed with his glasses the flight of a magnificent bird that rose from a stunted tree, flew across the river, and away over the mangroves on the other side.

Soon after, as the steamer still made its way onward in mid-stream, the river being very deep, as shown by the man busy in the chains with the lead, a flame of blue suddenly seemed to dart from a mangrove root, and then another and another, as some of the gorgeously-coloured kingfishers of the peninsula shot off along the surface up the stream.

On still, and on, with every one on board eagerly on the look-out for novelties, but all growing somewhat tired of the unbroken succession of dull green mangroves. At last, however, after many hours of slow and cautious progress, the mangroves gave place to tall and beautiful palms, showing evidently that the steamer was now beyond the reach of the tide; and this was farther proved by the fact that the stream was now dead against them, running pretty swiftly, but, in place of being muddy, delightfully clear.

Faces that had looked long and solemn as the supposition had grown stronger that the country was nothing better than a mangrove swamp, became more cheery of aspect, especially when, through an opening in the dense clumps of palms with their feathery tops, the blue line of a distant range of hills could be seen.

Then came, as they rounded a point, the first trace of human habitation, in the shape of a Malay village, which in the distance bore a marvellous resemblance, in its steep gabled roofs thatched with palm-leaves, to some collection of cottages in far-distant England. But soon it was seen that every cottage was raised upon posts, that the walls were of woven reed or split bamboo, and that the trees that shaded them were cocoa-nut and areca palms.

Onward still, but more slowly and cautiously, lest the steamer should take the ground. Now and then scattered patches of cultivation were seen, in the shape of paddy fields; clusters of fruit-trees stood here and there; native boats were drawn right up on the mud, or secured to posts; and now and then buffaloes could be seen, standing knee-deep in the water, with dark-skinned children running to and fro, terribly excited at the sight of the strange ship.

Onward still, hour after hour, past village after village, wonderfully same in appearance, and the river still kept broad and deep enough for the navigation of the steamer, till night came on, and she was anchored in mid-stream, with the wild jungle coming close down to the water’s edge on either side.

At early morn the journey was continued till a broad reach of the river was ascended, at the far end of which was a good-sized island, in which was a palm-thatched building of some consequence, while, only separated from it by a narrow arm of the river, stood the largest collection of houses they had seen, with what was evidently a mosque by the river side. There was an abundance of boats too, and what strongly resembled a stockade; but what most took up the attention of all on board were a couple of long, low, well-made vessels, each displaying a curious figure-head bearing a faint resemblance to some fabulous monster; and in these armed boats both the soldiers and sailors of the little expedition were quite right in believing that they saw nothing more nor less than the much-talked-of vessels of the kris-bearing pirates of Malaya, the well-known, much-dreaded prahus.

Chapter Six.How Tom Long tried the Durian.A little bustle on deck, the rattling of chains, the splash of an anchor, and Her Majesty’s ship “Startler”—well manned, and armed with guns that could send shot and shell crashing through the town on the river’s right bank—swinging to her moorings; for she had reached her destination—the campong, or village, of Sultan Hamet, the native Malay potentate, who was under British protection, and who sought our aid to rule his land beneficially, after our manners and customs, and who now professed the most ardent friendship for those who were ready to do their duty; though the trust they felt in the Malays was not untempered by suspicion—in some cases, perhaps, with fear.It was a very busy time for all, and after the “Startler” had been made what Dick the sailor called snug—that is to say, firmly anchored head to stream, for they were now far above the reach of the tide—a strong party of the blue-jackets were landed upon the pleasantly umbrageous island, along with the soldiers; for this island was to be the site of the residency, and it proved to have four good-sized buildings amidst the trees, which had been roughly prepared by Sultan Hamet’s orders.Doctor Bolter was almost the first man to land, and for a long time he was fussily perspiring about, as he abused the sanitary arrangements of the place to every man he met, pausing last of all to stand mopping his face in front of Bob Roberts and Tom Long.“Pretty sort of a wilderness to bring us to, young gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know what to start at next. The place will be a very hot-bed of fever, and we shall all be swept away.”“What do you say to this for a neat spot, doctor?” said Bob Roberts.“Neat spot? what for?”“Burying ground.”“Burying ground? What do you mean, sir?”“To bury us all decently, doctor,” said Bob, grinning. “And I say, doctor, who’s to bury the last man?”“If you were under my charge, Master Bob Roberts,” said the doctor, panting with the heat, “I should reduce that vital force of yours a little, sir.”“Thanky, doctor. But I say, doctor, which is to be the resident’s house?”“That, sir; and those three buildings are to be turned into barracks, and fort, and officers’ quarters; and how I am to get them all into a sanitary state, I don’t know.”But the doctor did manage it somehow in the following days, when, in spite of the heat, every one worked with a will; the resident’s house was improved, and boats were constantly going to and from the “Startler,” whose hold was something like a conjuring trick, as it constantly turned out household necessaries and furniture. Handy workmen amidst the soldiers and Jacks were busy, fitting, hammering, and nailing; so that in a very short time the resident’s house began to grow ship-shape.At the same time the officers’ quarters were being prepared, and the barracks as well; while plans were made to strengthen the fort, dig ditch, form glacis, and generally make the place tenable against a possible enemy.Plenty of Malays were enlisted to help; but beyond bringing wood, and acting as carriers, they did not prove to be very valuable workers. But all the same, the preparations went on, various chiefs coming across in their boats from time to time, watching with no little wonder the changes that were being effected, talking together a good deal about the stands of arms in the little barracks, and the nine-pounder field-pieces that were brought ashore from the “Startler’s” hold.The inexhaustible bottle was nothing to that ship, for no sooner did the adjutant make out a list of requisitions, and send in, than the hold began to disgorge, and boat-loads of stores came ashore; till, in a marvellously short time, the white tents, saving one or two large ones, disappeared from where they had been first set up amongst the trees, and with a celerity that perfectly astounded the Malay visitors, the island assumed an aspect that seemed to say the English visitors meant to stay.Meanwhile, the country people grew less shy, and boats came with fruit and rice for sale, one of the first being visited by Bob Roberts—Tom Long, who had evidently meant to be there before him, coming directly after.The ladies had landed and taken possession of their new abode, where several of the soldiers were busy forming a garden; and it had struck both the admirers of Miss Linton that an offering or two of fruit and flowers would be very acceptable, after the long confinement on ship board.The sampan, or native boat, that the two lads had come to visit, was fastened to a rough bamboo landing-stage, that had been one of the first things fitted up at the island; and, to their great delight, they could see that the boat was stored with various vegetable productions, some of which were sufficiently attractive to make the lads’ mouths water, to the forgetting of the main object of their visit.“Hallo, soldier!” said Bob Roberts, as he saw Tom Long come up, looking very aggressive.“Hallo, sailor boy!” said Tom Long, superciliously; and then they stood looking at each other, quite unconsciously like a couple of Malay game cocks in bamboo cages, on the afterpart of the sampan. These two pugnacious birds were evincing a strong desire for a regular duel; but as the bamboo bars of their cages prevented a near approach, they stood there ruffling their plumes, and staring hard in each other’s faces.“Seems a strange thing that a man can’t come down to buy a little fruit and some flowers, without your watching him,” said Bob, at last.“I wasn’t watching you, boy,” said Tom Long, superciliously. “There, spend your penny, my man, and go about your business.”“Look here, my stuck-up red herring,” cried Bob, setting his teeth hard, “Captain Horton said that the naval officers were to set an example of gentlemanly behaviour before the natives, or I’ll be blowed, Mr Tom Long, if I wouldn’t punch your head.”“Blowed—punch head,” sneered Tom Long; “that’s gentlemanly, certainly.”“Look here,” said Bob, who was stung to the quick by the truth of this remark; “do you want to fight, Mr Tom Long?”“Mr T. Long presents his compliments to the middy boy of the ‘Startler,’ and begs to inform him that when her Majesty’s officers fight, it is with some one worthy of their steel.”“Ha, ha! Haw, haw! Ho, ho, ho!” laughed Bob, cutting a caper expressive of his great amusement. “Her Majesty’s officers—some one worthy of their steel. Ha, ha, ha, ha! I say, Tom Long, how happy and contented her Majesty must feel, knowing as she does that the gallant officer, Ensign Long, is always ready to draw his sword in her defence. Here, you stop! I got here first.”“Sahib wants my beautiful fruit,” said one of the dark-faced men in the sampan, towards which Tom Long had stepped.“Hallo!” said Bob, going up. “You are not a Malay?”“No, sahib: I Kling, from Madras. Sell fruit—flowers. This Malaya man.”He pointed to a flat-nosed, high-cheek-boned man with him, who was dressed in the inevitable plaid sarong of bright colours, and wore a natty little plaited-grass cap upon his head.Bob turned, and saw that this man carried a kris stuck in the folds of his sarong, which had slipped from the hilt, and he was now busy with a little brass box and a leaf. This leaf of one of the pepper plants he was smearing with a little creamy-looking mixed lime from the brass box, on which he placed a fragment of betel-nut, rolled it in the leaf, thrust it into his mouth, which it seemed to distort, and then began to expectorate a nasty red juice, with which he stained the pure water.“Hope you feel better now,” said Bob, who, in his interest in the Malay’s proceedings, had forgotten all about the squabble with Tom Long. “Ugh! the dirty brute! Chewing tobacco’s bad enough; but as for that—I’d just like to get the armourer’s tongs and fetch that out of your mouth, and then swab it clean.”“No speak English; Malaya man,” said the Kling laughing. “Chew betel, very good, sahib. Like try?”“Try! No,” said Bob, with a gesture of disgust. “Here, I say; we’ll buy some fruit directly: let’s have a look at your kris.”The Kling, who seemed to have quite adopted the customs of the people amongst whom he was, hesitated for a moment, looking suspiciously at the two lads, and then took the weapon he wore from his waist, and held it out.Bob took it, and Tom Long closed up, being as much interested as the midshipman.“I say, Tom Long,” the latter said, with a laugh, “which of us two will get the first taste of that brown insect’s sting?”“You, Bob,” said Tom Long, coolly. “It would let out a little of your confounded impudence.”“Thanky,” said Bob, as he proceeded to examine the weapon with the greatest interest, from its wooden sheath, with a clumsy widened portion by the hilt, to the hilt itself, which, to European eyes, strongly resembled the awkwardly formed hook of an umbrella or walking-stick, and seemed a clumsy handle by which to wield the kris.“Pull it out,” said Tom Long, eagerly; and Bob drew it, to show a dull ragged-looking two-edged blade, and of a wavy form. It was about fifteen inches long, and beginning about three inches wide, rapidly narrowed down to less than one inch, and finished in a sharp point.“It’s a miserable-looking little tool,” said Bob.“Good as a middy’s dirk,” said Tom Long, laughing.“I don’t know so much about that,” said Bob, making a stab at nothing with the kris. “I say, old chap, this is poisoned, isn’t it?”“No, sahib,” said the Kling, displaying his white teeth.“But the Malay krises are poisoned,” said Bob. “Is his?”He nodded in the direction of the Malay, who was trying to understand what was said.“No, sahib, no poison. What for poison kris?”“Make it kill people, of course,” said Bob, returning the rusty looking weapon to its scabbard.“Kris kill people all same, no poison,” said the Kling, taking back his dagger. “’Tick kris through man, no want no poison, sahib.”“He’s about right there, middy,” said Tom Long. “Here, let’s look at some fruit.”This brought Bob Roberts back to the object of his mission; and realising at once that Tom Long’s object was a present, he, by what he considered to be a lucky inspiration, turned his attention to the flowers that were in the boat.For the Malays are a flower-loving people, and there is nothing the dark beauties of this race like better than decking their jetty-black hair with white and yellow sweet-scented blossoms.Bob was not long in securing a large bunch of arums, all soft and white, with the great yellow seed vessel within. To this he added a great bunch of delicately tinted lotus, and then sat down on the edge of the boat to see what Long would purchase.Tom Long was hard to please; now he would decide on a bunch of delicious golden plantains, and then set them aside in favour of some custard apples. Then he wondered whether the ladies would not prefer some mangoes; but recollecting that they had had plenty of mangoes, and the delicious mangosteen in India, he decided upon some limes and a couple of cocoanuts, when the Kling exclaimed, “Why not sahib buy durian?”“What the dickens is durian?” said Tom.“Durian best nice fruit that grow, sahib.”“Oh, is it?” said Tom. “Then let’s have a look.”The Kling said something to the Malay, who stooped down, and solemnly produced what looked like a great spiney nut, about as large as a boy’s head.“That durian, sahib,” said the Kling, smiling.“Oh, that’s durian, is it?” said Tom, taking the great fruit in his hands, and turning it over and over.“Nice-looking offering for a lady,” said Bob Roberts, laughing. Tom Long looked up sharply, and was about to speak; but he said nothing, only kept turning the great fruit over and over.“Taste nice, most nice all fruit, sahib,” said the Kling.“Here, let’s try one,” said Bob, laying down his flowers; and the Kling signed to his companion to give him another, which the Malay did with solemn importance, not a smile appearing on his face, nor a look suggestive of his being anxious to sell the fruit in the boat.The Kling took the great wooden fruit, laid it on the thwart of the boat, and reaching a heavy knife from the side, he inserted it at the head of a faint line, one of five to be seen running down the wooden shell of the fruit, and following this mark, he was able to open the curious production, and divide it into portions like an orange. In each of these quarters, or fifths, were two or three great seeds, as large as chestnuts, and these were set in a quantity of thick buttery cream or custard.“Well, all I can say is that it’s precious rum-looking stuff,” said Bob. “Which do you eat, the kernels, or this custardy stuff?”“No eat seeds, sahib; eat other part,” said the Kling.“Come along, soldier,” said Bob; “I’ll eat one bit, if you will?”Tom Long looked too much disgusted to speak, but in a half-offended manner he picked up another quarter of the durian, and examined it attentively.“Phew!” ejaculated Bob, looking round. “What a horrible smell. There must be something floating down the river.”They both glanced at the flowing silvery waters of the river, but nothing was in sight.“It’s getting worse,” said Tom Long. “Why, it’s perfectly dreadful!”“It’s this precious fruit,” exclaimed Bob suddenly; and raising his portion to his nose, “Murder!” he cried; “how horrid!” and he pitched his piece overboard.“Why, it’s a bad one,” said Tom Long, sharply: and he followed the middy’s suit.The Kling raised his hands in dismay; but leaning over the side, he secured the two pieces of durian before they were out of reach, and turned to his customers.“Good durian—buteful durian,” he exclaimed. “Alway smell so fashion.”“What!” cried Bob, “do you mean to tell me that stuff’s fit to eat?”The Kling took up the fruit; and smelt it with his eyes half-closed, and then drawing in a long breath, he sighed gently, as if with regret that he might not indulge in such delicacies.“Bess durian,” he said, in an exaggerated ecstatic manner. “Quite bess ripe.”Bob stooped down and retook a portion of the strange fruit, smelt it cautiously, and then, taking out a knife, prepared to taste it.“You are never going to eat any of that disgusting thing, are you, sailor?” cried Tom Long.“I’m going to try it, soldier,” said Bob coolly. “Come and have a taste, lad.”In the most matter-of-fact way, though quite out of bravado on account of Tom Long’s disgusted looks, Bob took a long sniff at the durian.“Well, it is a little high,” he said, quietly. “Not unlike bad brick-kiln burning, with a dash of turpentine.”“Carrion, you mean,” said Tom Long.“No, not carrion,” said Bob, picking out a good-sized fragment of the fruit upon his knife; “it’s what the captain callssui generis.”“All burra sahib like durian,” said the Kling, showing his white teeth.“Then the burra sahibs have got precious bad taste,” said Tom Long, just as Bob put the first piece of the fruit into his mouth, rolled his eyes, and looked as if he were about to eject it into the stream, but did not; gave it a twist round, tasted it; looked less serious; began to masticate; and swallowing the piece, proceeded to take a little more.“There, it won’t do, Bob Roberts,” said Tom Long; “say it’s horrible, like a man. You can’t deceive me. What does it taste like?”“Don’t know yet,” said Bob trying the second piece.“What a jackass you are to torture yourself like that, to try and take me in, middy!”Bob helped himself to a little more.“Well, what does it taste like?”“Custard,” said Bob, working away hard, and speaking between every dig of his knife; “candles, cream cheese, onion sauce, tipsy cake, bad butter, almonds, sherry and bitters, banana, old shoes, turpentine, honey, peach and beeswax. Here, I say; give us a bit more, old cock.”Tom Long was astounded, for after finishing the first piece of the evil-smelling dainty, Bob had begun the second, and was toiling at it with a patient industry that showed thorough appreciation of the most peculiar fruit in the world.“Tipsy cake, bad butter, old shoes, peach and beeswax,” and the other incongruities, rang in Long’s ear; and to prove that he was not deceiving him, there was Bob eating away as if his soul were in the endeavour to prove how much he could dispose of at one go.It was too much for Tom Long; his curiosity was roused to the highest point, and as the Kling was smilingly watching Bob, Tom signed to the Malay to give him a piece.The solemn-looking Asiatic picked up another fruit, and while Tom looked impatiently on, it was opened, and a piece handed to him, which he took, and with Bob’s example before his eyes took a greedy bite—uttered a cry of disgust—and flung the piece in hand at the giver.The Malayan character has been aptly described as volcanic. The pent-up fire of his nature slumbers long sometimes beneath his calm, imperturbable, dignified exterior; but the fire lies smouldering within, and upon occasions it bursts out, carrying destruction before it.In this case Tom Long’s folly—worse, his insult to the master of the sampan—roused the fiery Malay on the instant to fury, as he realised the fact that the youth he looked upon as an infidel and an intruder had dared to offer to him, a son of the faithful, such an offence; then with a cry of rage, he sprang at the ensign, bore him backwards to the bottom of the boat; and as the midshipman started up, it was to see the Malay’s deadly, flame-shaped kris waving in the air.

A little bustle on deck, the rattling of chains, the splash of an anchor, and Her Majesty’s ship “Startler”—well manned, and armed with guns that could send shot and shell crashing through the town on the river’s right bank—swinging to her moorings; for she had reached her destination—the campong, or village, of Sultan Hamet, the native Malay potentate, who was under British protection, and who sought our aid to rule his land beneficially, after our manners and customs, and who now professed the most ardent friendship for those who were ready to do their duty; though the trust they felt in the Malays was not untempered by suspicion—in some cases, perhaps, with fear.

It was a very busy time for all, and after the “Startler” had been made what Dick the sailor called snug—that is to say, firmly anchored head to stream, for they were now far above the reach of the tide—a strong party of the blue-jackets were landed upon the pleasantly umbrageous island, along with the soldiers; for this island was to be the site of the residency, and it proved to have four good-sized buildings amidst the trees, which had been roughly prepared by Sultan Hamet’s orders.

Doctor Bolter was almost the first man to land, and for a long time he was fussily perspiring about, as he abused the sanitary arrangements of the place to every man he met, pausing last of all to stand mopping his face in front of Bob Roberts and Tom Long.

“Pretty sort of a wilderness to bring us to, young gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know what to start at next. The place will be a very hot-bed of fever, and we shall all be swept away.”

“What do you say to this for a neat spot, doctor?” said Bob Roberts.

“Neat spot? what for?”

“Burying ground.”

“Burying ground? What do you mean, sir?”

“To bury us all decently, doctor,” said Bob, grinning. “And I say, doctor, who’s to bury the last man?”

“If you were under my charge, Master Bob Roberts,” said the doctor, panting with the heat, “I should reduce that vital force of yours a little, sir.”

“Thanky, doctor. But I say, doctor, which is to be the resident’s house?”

“That, sir; and those three buildings are to be turned into barracks, and fort, and officers’ quarters; and how I am to get them all into a sanitary state, I don’t know.”

But the doctor did manage it somehow in the following days, when, in spite of the heat, every one worked with a will; the resident’s house was improved, and boats were constantly going to and from the “Startler,” whose hold was something like a conjuring trick, as it constantly turned out household necessaries and furniture. Handy workmen amidst the soldiers and Jacks were busy, fitting, hammering, and nailing; so that in a very short time the resident’s house began to grow ship-shape.

At the same time the officers’ quarters were being prepared, and the barracks as well; while plans were made to strengthen the fort, dig ditch, form glacis, and generally make the place tenable against a possible enemy.

Plenty of Malays were enlisted to help; but beyond bringing wood, and acting as carriers, they did not prove to be very valuable workers. But all the same, the preparations went on, various chiefs coming across in their boats from time to time, watching with no little wonder the changes that were being effected, talking together a good deal about the stands of arms in the little barracks, and the nine-pounder field-pieces that were brought ashore from the “Startler’s” hold.

The inexhaustible bottle was nothing to that ship, for no sooner did the adjutant make out a list of requisitions, and send in, than the hold began to disgorge, and boat-loads of stores came ashore; till, in a marvellously short time, the white tents, saving one or two large ones, disappeared from where they had been first set up amongst the trees, and with a celerity that perfectly astounded the Malay visitors, the island assumed an aspect that seemed to say the English visitors meant to stay.

Meanwhile, the country people grew less shy, and boats came with fruit and rice for sale, one of the first being visited by Bob Roberts—Tom Long, who had evidently meant to be there before him, coming directly after.

The ladies had landed and taken possession of their new abode, where several of the soldiers were busy forming a garden; and it had struck both the admirers of Miss Linton that an offering or two of fruit and flowers would be very acceptable, after the long confinement on ship board.

The sampan, or native boat, that the two lads had come to visit, was fastened to a rough bamboo landing-stage, that had been one of the first things fitted up at the island; and, to their great delight, they could see that the boat was stored with various vegetable productions, some of which were sufficiently attractive to make the lads’ mouths water, to the forgetting of the main object of their visit.

“Hallo, soldier!” said Bob Roberts, as he saw Tom Long come up, looking very aggressive.

“Hallo, sailor boy!” said Tom Long, superciliously; and then they stood looking at each other, quite unconsciously like a couple of Malay game cocks in bamboo cages, on the afterpart of the sampan. These two pugnacious birds were evincing a strong desire for a regular duel; but as the bamboo bars of their cages prevented a near approach, they stood there ruffling their plumes, and staring hard in each other’s faces.

“Seems a strange thing that a man can’t come down to buy a little fruit and some flowers, without your watching him,” said Bob, at last.

“I wasn’t watching you, boy,” said Tom Long, superciliously. “There, spend your penny, my man, and go about your business.”

“Look here, my stuck-up red herring,” cried Bob, setting his teeth hard, “Captain Horton said that the naval officers were to set an example of gentlemanly behaviour before the natives, or I’ll be blowed, Mr Tom Long, if I wouldn’t punch your head.”

“Blowed—punch head,” sneered Tom Long; “that’s gentlemanly, certainly.”

“Look here,” said Bob, who was stung to the quick by the truth of this remark; “do you want to fight, Mr Tom Long?”

“Mr T. Long presents his compliments to the middy boy of the ‘Startler,’ and begs to inform him that when her Majesty’s officers fight, it is with some one worthy of their steel.”

“Ha, ha! Haw, haw! Ho, ho, ho!” laughed Bob, cutting a caper expressive of his great amusement. “Her Majesty’s officers—some one worthy of their steel. Ha, ha, ha, ha! I say, Tom Long, how happy and contented her Majesty must feel, knowing as she does that the gallant officer, Ensign Long, is always ready to draw his sword in her defence. Here, you stop! I got here first.”

“Sahib wants my beautiful fruit,” said one of the dark-faced men in the sampan, towards which Tom Long had stepped.

“Hallo!” said Bob, going up. “You are not a Malay?”

“No, sahib: I Kling, from Madras. Sell fruit—flowers. This Malaya man.”

He pointed to a flat-nosed, high-cheek-boned man with him, who was dressed in the inevitable plaid sarong of bright colours, and wore a natty little plaited-grass cap upon his head.

Bob turned, and saw that this man carried a kris stuck in the folds of his sarong, which had slipped from the hilt, and he was now busy with a little brass box and a leaf. This leaf of one of the pepper plants he was smearing with a little creamy-looking mixed lime from the brass box, on which he placed a fragment of betel-nut, rolled it in the leaf, thrust it into his mouth, which it seemed to distort, and then began to expectorate a nasty red juice, with which he stained the pure water.

“Hope you feel better now,” said Bob, who, in his interest in the Malay’s proceedings, had forgotten all about the squabble with Tom Long. “Ugh! the dirty brute! Chewing tobacco’s bad enough; but as for that—I’d just like to get the armourer’s tongs and fetch that out of your mouth, and then swab it clean.”

“No speak English; Malaya man,” said the Kling laughing. “Chew betel, very good, sahib. Like try?”

“Try! No,” said Bob, with a gesture of disgust. “Here, I say; we’ll buy some fruit directly: let’s have a look at your kris.”

The Kling, who seemed to have quite adopted the customs of the people amongst whom he was, hesitated for a moment, looking suspiciously at the two lads, and then took the weapon he wore from his waist, and held it out.

Bob took it, and Tom Long closed up, being as much interested as the midshipman.

“I say, Tom Long,” the latter said, with a laugh, “which of us two will get the first taste of that brown insect’s sting?”

“You, Bob,” said Tom Long, coolly. “It would let out a little of your confounded impudence.”

“Thanky,” said Bob, as he proceeded to examine the weapon with the greatest interest, from its wooden sheath, with a clumsy widened portion by the hilt, to the hilt itself, which, to European eyes, strongly resembled the awkwardly formed hook of an umbrella or walking-stick, and seemed a clumsy handle by which to wield the kris.

“Pull it out,” said Tom Long, eagerly; and Bob drew it, to show a dull ragged-looking two-edged blade, and of a wavy form. It was about fifteen inches long, and beginning about three inches wide, rapidly narrowed down to less than one inch, and finished in a sharp point.

“It’s a miserable-looking little tool,” said Bob.

“Good as a middy’s dirk,” said Tom Long, laughing.

“I don’t know so much about that,” said Bob, making a stab at nothing with the kris. “I say, old chap, this is poisoned, isn’t it?”

“No, sahib,” said the Kling, displaying his white teeth.

“But the Malay krises are poisoned,” said Bob. “Is his?”

He nodded in the direction of the Malay, who was trying to understand what was said.

“No, sahib, no poison. What for poison kris?”

“Make it kill people, of course,” said Bob, returning the rusty looking weapon to its scabbard.

“Kris kill people all same, no poison,” said the Kling, taking back his dagger. “’Tick kris through man, no want no poison, sahib.”

“He’s about right there, middy,” said Tom Long. “Here, let’s look at some fruit.”

This brought Bob Roberts back to the object of his mission; and realising at once that Tom Long’s object was a present, he, by what he considered to be a lucky inspiration, turned his attention to the flowers that were in the boat.

For the Malays are a flower-loving people, and there is nothing the dark beauties of this race like better than decking their jetty-black hair with white and yellow sweet-scented blossoms.

Bob was not long in securing a large bunch of arums, all soft and white, with the great yellow seed vessel within. To this he added a great bunch of delicately tinted lotus, and then sat down on the edge of the boat to see what Long would purchase.

Tom Long was hard to please; now he would decide on a bunch of delicious golden plantains, and then set them aside in favour of some custard apples. Then he wondered whether the ladies would not prefer some mangoes; but recollecting that they had had plenty of mangoes, and the delicious mangosteen in India, he decided upon some limes and a couple of cocoanuts, when the Kling exclaimed, “Why not sahib buy durian?”

“What the dickens is durian?” said Tom.

“Durian best nice fruit that grow, sahib.”

“Oh, is it?” said Tom. “Then let’s have a look.”

The Kling said something to the Malay, who stooped down, and solemnly produced what looked like a great spiney nut, about as large as a boy’s head.

“That durian, sahib,” said the Kling, smiling.

“Oh, that’s durian, is it?” said Tom, taking the great fruit in his hands, and turning it over and over.

“Nice-looking offering for a lady,” said Bob Roberts, laughing. Tom Long looked up sharply, and was about to speak; but he said nothing, only kept turning the great fruit over and over.

“Taste nice, most nice all fruit, sahib,” said the Kling.

“Here, let’s try one,” said Bob, laying down his flowers; and the Kling signed to his companion to give him another, which the Malay did with solemn importance, not a smile appearing on his face, nor a look suggestive of his being anxious to sell the fruit in the boat.

The Kling took the great wooden fruit, laid it on the thwart of the boat, and reaching a heavy knife from the side, he inserted it at the head of a faint line, one of five to be seen running down the wooden shell of the fruit, and following this mark, he was able to open the curious production, and divide it into portions like an orange. In each of these quarters, or fifths, were two or three great seeds, as large as chestnuts, and these were set in a quantity of thick buttery cream or custard.

“Well, all I can say is that it’s precious rum-looking stuff,” said Bob. “Which do you eat, the kernels, or this custardy stuff?”

“No eat seeds, sahib; eat other part,” said the Kling.

“Come along, soldier,” said Bob; “I’ll eat one bit, if you will?”

Tom Long looked too much disgusted to speak, but in a half-offended manner he picked up another quarter of the durian, and examined it attentively.

“Phew!” ejaculated Bob, looking round. “What a horrible smell. There must be something floating down the river.”

They both glanced at the flowing silvery waters of the river, but nothing was in sight.

“It’s getting worse,” said Tom Long. “Why, it’s perfectly dreadful!”

“It’s this precious fruit,” exclaimed Bob suddenly; and raising his portion to his nose, “Murder!” he cried; “how horrid!” and he pitched his piece overboard.

“Why, it’s a bad one,” said Tom Long, sharply: and he followed the middy’s suit.

The Kling raised his hands in dismay; but leaning over the side, he secured the two pieces of durian before they were out of reach, and turned to his customers.

“Good durian—buteful durian,” he exclaimed. “Alway smell so fashion.”

“What!” cried Bob, “do you mean to tell me that stuff’s fit to eat?”

The Kling took up the fruit; and smelt it with his eyes half-closed, and then drawing in a long breath, he sighed gently, as if with regret that he might not indulge in such delicacies.

“Bess durian,” he said, in an exaggerated ecstatic manner. “Quite bess ripe.”

Bob stooped down and retook a portion of the strange fruit, smelt it cautiously, and then, taking out a knife, prepared to taste it.

“You are never going to eat any of that disgusting thing, are you, sailor?” cried Tom Long.

“I’m going to try it, soldier,” said Bob coolly. “Come and have a taste, lad.”

In the most matter-of-fact way, though quite out of bravado on account of Tom Long’s disgusted looks, Bob took a long sniff at the durian.

“Well, it is a little high,” he said, quietly. “Not unlike bad brick-kiln burning, with a dash of turpentine.”

“Carrion, you mean,” said Tom Long.

“No, not carrion,” said Bob, picking out a good-sized fragment of the fruit upon his knife; “it’s what the captain callssui generis.”

“All burra sahib like durian,” said the Kling, showing his white teeth.

“Then the burra sahibs have got precious bad taste,” said Tom Long, just as Bob put the first piece of the fruit into his mouth, rolled his eyes, and looked as if he were about to eject it into the stream, but did not; gave it a twist round, tasted it; looked less serious; began to masticate; and swallowing the piece, proceeded to take a little more.

“There, it won’t do, Bob Roberts,” said Tom Long; “say it’s horrible, like a man. You can’t deceive me. What does it taste like?”

“Don’t know yet,” said Bob trying the second piece.

“What a jackass you are to torture yourself like that, to try and take me in, middy!”

Bob helped himself to a little more.

“Well, what does it taste like?”

“Custard,” said Bob, working away hard, and speaking between every dig of his knife; “candles, cream cheese, onion sauce, tipsy cake, bad butter, almonds, sherry and bitters, banana, old shoes, turpentine, honey, peach and beeswax. Here, I say; give us a bit more, old cock.”

Tom Long was astounded, for after finishing the first piece of the evil-smelling dainty, Bob had begun the second, and was toiling at it with a patient industry that showed thorough appreciation of the most peculiar fruit in the world.

“Tipsy cake, bad butter, old shoes, peach and beeswax,” and the other incongruities, rang in Long’s ear; and to prove that he was not deceiving him, there was Bob eating away as if his soul were in the endeavour to prove how much he could dispose of at one go.

It was too much for Tom Long; his curiosity was roused to the highest point, and as the Kling was smilingly watching Bob, Tom signed to the Malay to give him a piece.

The solemn-looking Asiatic picked up another fruit, and while Tom looked impatiently on, it was opened, and a piece handed to him, which he took, and with Bob’s example before his eyes took a greedy bite—uttered a cry of disgust—and flung the piece in hand at the giver.

The Malayan character has been aptly described as volcanic. The pent-up fire of his nature slumbers long sometimes beneath his calm, imperturbable, dignified exterior; but the fire lies smouldering within, and upon occasions it bursts out, carrying destruction before it.

In this case Tom Long’s folly—worse, his insult to the master of the sampan—roused the fiery Malay on the instant to fury, as he realised the fact that the youth he looked upon as an infidel and an intruder had dared to offer to him, a son of the faithful, such an offence; then with a cry of rage, he sprang at the ensign, bore him backwards to the bottom of the boat; and as the midshipman started up, it was to see the Malay’s deadly, flame-shaped kris waving in the air.

Chapter Seven.How Dick related the Visit.With a cry of horror Bob Roberts leaped forward, and caught the Malay’s wrist in time to avert the blow, the Kling starting forward the next instant, and helping to hold the infuriate Asiatic; while Tom Long struggled up and leaped ashore, where a knot of soldiers and sailors were gathering.“Don’t say anything, Tom,” cried Bob. “Here you—tell him he did not mean to offend him,” he continued to the Kling, who repeated the words; and the Malay, who had been ready to turn on the midshipman, seemed to calm down and sheathed his kris; while the Kling spoke to him again with the result that the offended man sat himself down in the boat, gazing vindictively at the young ensign ashore.“Here, no more durian to-day, thank you,” said Bob, handing the Kling a dollar. “And look here, you sir; don’t let that fellow get whipping out his kris on any of our men, or he’ll be hung to the yard-arm as sure as he’s alive.”“He much angry, sahib,” said the Kling, whose swarthy visage had turned of a dirty clay colour. “Soldier sahib hurt him much.”“Yes, but if we hadn’t stopped him he’d have hurt my friend much more.”As he spoke Bob nodded shortly to the Kling, and leaped ashore. “Sahib not take his flowers,” said the latter, and dipping them in the river, and giving them a shake, he left the boat and handed the beautiful blossoms to the young sailor, who directly after joined Tom Long, who looked, in spite of his sunburnt visage, rather “white about the gills,” to use Bob’s expression.“That fellow ought to be shot. I shall report this case,” cried the ensign angrily.“I don’t think I should,” said Bob quietly. “You see you did upset the poor fellow, and they are an awfully touchy lot.”“It was all your fault for playing me that confounded trick,” cried Tom Long, passionately.“Trick? I played no trick,” said Bob, indignant to a degree at the accusation.“You did,” cried Tom Long, “humbugging me into eating that filthy fruit.”“Why, it was delicious,” cried Bob. “I should have gone on and finished mine if you hadn’t made that upset.”“I don’t care; it was a nasty practical joke,” cried Tom Long, “and—I beg your pardon, Roberts,” he said, suddenly changing his tone, and holding out his hand. “I believe you saved my life.”“Oh, nonsense!” said Bob. “He only meant to prick you with his kris.”“Heaven defend me from all such pricks!” said Tom Long, devoutly, as he held the middy’s hand in his. “I say, Bob Roberts, I wish you and I could agree better.”“So do I,” said Bob, giving the hand he held a hearty shake; “But we never shall. I always feel as if I wanted to quarrel with you, as soon as we meet.”“So do I,” said Tom Long. “You are such an aggravating little beggar.”“It is my nature to,” said Bob, laughing. “But you won’t say anything about this affair, shall you? It will be a lesson how to deal with the natives.”“If you think I had better not, I won’t,” said Tom Long, thoughtfully. Then, with a shudder, “I say, I felt just as if I was going to have that horrid kris in me. I shall never forget this, Bob Roberts.”“Oh, stuff and nonsense! Here, I say, have one of these bunches of flowers, old fellow.”“No, no; I don’t want them,” said the ensign, colouring up.“Yes, yes; take one. Quick, here are the ladies. I’m going to give my lotuses to Miss Sinclair,” he said quietly. And as Tom Long’s fingers closed upon the arums, the ladies, who were walking with the resident came close up.“Ah, Mr Long,” said the latter, “what a lovely bunch of arums!”“Yes sir,” said Tom, looking very red in the face; “they’re for the mess table.”“Your lotuses are lovely, Mr Midshipman Roberts,” said Miss Linton, smilingly greeting the frank-faced lad.“Aren’t they, Miss Linton?” said Bob. “I’m just going to send them aboard to the first luff; he’s rather poorly.”They parted; and it was quite true, for after looking rather shame-facedly the one at the other, the ensign bore off his arums to the mess-room, and the lotuses were sent on board the “Startler” by the very next boat.There was nothing more said respecting the adventure with the Malay boatman; but the two youths, who were a good deal puzzled in their own minds as to whether they were friends or enemies, exchanged glances a day or two later, when stringent orders were issued respecting the behaviour of the Englishmen to the natives. The men of both services were warned to be very careful, especially as it was the custom for the Malays to carry the deadly kris. The character of the people too was enlarged upon, their pride and self-esteem; and strict orders were given, to be followed by severe punishment if disobeyed, that the people and their belongings were to be treated with the greatest respect.Every one was as busy as could be, for there was an immense amount of labour necessary to get the place into a state satisfactory to the various officers. Great preparations were being made too for the first meeting with Sultan Hamet, though it was a matter of doubt whether he would come to the residency in state, or expect the English to call upon him in his palm-thatched palace.“He’s a rum sort of a chap,” Dick the sailor said, freely giving his opinion. “Sultan, indeed! What call have they to say he’s a sultan? Why, Sergeant Lund, Billy Mustard, and that sick chap Sim, who went ashore with despatches, come back last night, and they say it’s no more a palace as he lives in than a pig-sty. It’s for all the world like a big bamboo barn, thatched with leaves.”“What’s that?” said Bob Roberts, coming up, with the young ensign, to where two or three of the sailors were, under the trees, talking to a group of soldiers.“I was a telling of ’em about what Sergeant Lund told me, sir,” said Dick, pulling his forelock, “that this here sultan as we’ve come here to protect lives in a place as is just like a big bamboo barn standing on stilts. And Lor’ ha’ mercy, they say it was a sight: with leaves, and cabbage stumps, and potato parings chucked about under the place!”“Now come, Dick,” cried the middy; “no yarns, please.”“Well sir, of course I don’t mean real English cabbage stumps and potato parings, same as we has at home, but what answers for ’em here, and coky-nut huxes and shells, and banana rinds, and a nasty bad smelling kind o’ fruit as they calls doorings.”Bob gave the ensign a comical look.“Why Billy Mustard says—and this here’s a fack—as the smell o’ them doorings.”“Durians, Dick.”“All right, sir,” said the old sailor; “that don’t make ’em smell a bit better—the smell o’ them things knocked him slap off his feet.”The men laughed, and old Dick went on—“Everything about the place was as ontidy as a bilge hole; and when our ambassadors—”“Our what?” said Bob.“Well, them as carried the despatches, sir—got close up, they was told to wait because the sultan was asleep. When seeing as a reg’lar party of the Malays, every man with his bit of a toasting fork by his side, come round to stare at ’em, Sergeant Lund he says to himself, ‘Lor’! what a pity it is as I haven’t got Private Tomkins, or Private Binns, or two or three more nice smart, handsome chaps o’ that kind with me, instead of such a scuffy couple o’ fellows as Sim and Mustard.’”Here, of course, there was a roar of laughter, for Privates Tomkins and Binns were amongst the listeners.“Come away,” said Tom Long, frowning. “I don’t like mixing with our men.”“No, no: stop,” cried Bob. “They won’t think any the less of us; we’re off duty now.”Tom Long wanted to hear what was said, so he remained.“And one of our nice hansum young orficers,” continued Dick, in the most solemn way, “and a middy and some smart Jacks.”“And Dick Dunnage,” said one of the soldiers.“Well, he did mention me, but I was too modest to say so.”Here there was another laugh.“‘How so be,’” continued Dick, “he sez; ‘must make the best o’ what material we got,’ so he pulls his men together, squares their yards, and coils down all their ropes tidy, tightens the breechings o’ their guns, and lets the poor benighted savages of niggers have their fill o’ staring at real British sodgers. Then they turned civil, and brought ’em out drinks, and fruit, and pipes; and they was very comfortable, till some one come out and said as the sultan was awake, and wanted his cocks, so the chap as went as interpreter told them; and then there was a bustle, and some three or four chaps went and fetched some fighting-cocks, and took ’em inside the barn—I mean the palace; and our fellows was kept waiting till the sergeant hears a reg’lar cock-a-doodle-doo, just for all the world as if he was at home, and he know’d by that as one of the birds had won. Just about a minute after some one come and beckoned him, and he goes up the steps into the palace, as had bamboo floors, and carpets lying about; and there was the sultan up at one end, sitting on carpet, and all his wives and people about him.”“How many wives had he got, Dick?” said the midshipman.“About a dozen, sir. But I’ll just tell you how many he’d have had if my missus had been one on ’em.”“How many, Dick?”“Just one, sir; she’d clear out all the others in a brace o’ shakes. She wouldn’t stand none o’ that nonsense. Why, bless yer ’art, there was one had got a golden pestle and mortar—”“Gently, Dick! gently!” said the midshipman.“It’s a fack, sir, and as sure as I stand here; and she was a bruising up betel-nuts for him to chew, and another was mixing up lime, and another spreading leaves, whilst—there, I dursn’t hardly tell you this here, because you won’t believe it.”“Let it off gently, Dick,” said the middy, “and we’ll try and bear it.”“Well, sir, hang me if one of his wives—the oldest and ugliest of ’em—wasn’t sitting there holden a golden spittoon ready for him to use whenever he wanted.”There was another roar of laughter, and Dick exclaimed,—“There, you ask Sergeant Lund if every word a’most I’ve said ain’t quite true,”—which, with the exception of Dick’s embellishment about the handsome sailors and soldiers, proved to be the case.

With a cry of horror Bob Roberts leaped forward, and caught the Malay’s wrist in time to avert the blow, the Kling starting forward the next instant, and helping to hold the infuriate Asiatic; while Tom Long struggled up and leaped ashore, where a knot of soldiers and sailors were gathering.

“Don’t say anything, Tom,” cried Bob. “Here you—tell him he did not mean to offend him,” he continued to the Kling, who repeated the words; and the Malay, who had been ready to turn on the midshipman, seemed to calm down and sheathed his kris; while the Kling spoke to him again with the result that the offended man sat himself down in the boat, gazing vindictively at the young ensign ashore.

“Here, no more durian to-day, thank you,” said Bob, handing the Kling a dollar. “And look here, you sir; don’t let that fellow get whipping out his kris on any of our men, or he’ll be hung to the yard-arm as sure as he’s alive.”

“He much angry, sahib,” said the Kling, whose swarthy visage had turned of a dirty clay colour. “Soldier sahib hurt him much.”

“Yes, but if we hadn’t stopped him he’d have hurt my friend much more.”

As he spoke Bob nodded shortly to the Kling, and leaped ashore. “Sahib not take his flowers,” said the latter, and dipping them in the river, and giving them a shake, he left the boat and handed the beautiful blossoms to the young sailor, who directly after joined Tom Long, who looked, in spite of his sunburnt visage, rather “white about the gills,” to use Bob’s expression.

“That fellow ought to be shot. I shall report this case,” cried the ensign angrily.

“I don’t think I should,” said Bob quietly. “You see you did upset the poor fellow, and they are an awfully touchy lot.”

“It was all your fault for playing me that confounded trick,” cried Tom Long, passionately.

“Trick? I played no trick,” said Bob, indignant to a degree at the accusation.

“You did,” cried Tom Long, “humbugging me into eating that filthy fruit.”

“Why, it was delicious,” cried Bob. “I should have gone on and finished mine if you hadn’t made that upset.”

“I don’t care; it was a nasty practical joke,” cried Tom Long, “and—I beg your pardon, Roberts,” he said, suddenly changing his tone, and holding out his hand. “I believe you saved my life.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said Bob. “He only meant to prick you with his kris.”

“Heaven defend me from all such pricks!” said Tom Long, devoutly, as he held the middy’s hand in his. “I say, Bob Roberts, I wish you and I could agree better.”

“So do I,” said Bob, giving the hand he held a hearty shake; “But we never shall. I always feel as if I wanted to quarrel with you, as soon as we meet.”

“So do I,” said Tom Long. “You are such an aggravating little beggar.”

“It is my nature to,” said Bob, laughing. “But you won’t say anything about this affair, shall you? It will be a lesson how to deal with the natives.”

“If you think I had better not, I won’t,” said Tom Long, thoughtfully. Then, with a shudder, “I say, I felt just as if I was going to have that horrid kris in me. I shall never forget this, Bob Roberts.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense! Here, I say, have one of these bunches of flowers, old fellow.”

“No, no; I don’t want them,” said the ensign, colouring up.

“Yes, yes; take one. Quick, here are the ladies. I’m going to give my lotuses to Miss Sinclair,” he said quietly. And as Tom Long’s fingers closed upon the arums, the ladies, who were walking with the resident came close up.

“Ah, Mr Long,” said the latter, “what a lovely bunch of arums!”

“Yes sir,” said Tom, looking very red in the face; “they’re for the mess table.”

“Your lotuses are lovely, Mr Midshipman Roberts,” said Miss Linton, smilingly greeting the frank-faced lad.

“Aren’t they, Miss Linton?” said Bob. “I’m just going to send them aboard to the first luff; he’s rather poorly.”

They parted; and it was quite true, for after looking rather shame-facedly the one at the other, the ensign bore off his arums to the mess-room, and the lotuses were sent on board the “Startler” by the very next boat.

There was nothing more said respecting the adventure with the Malay boatman; but the two youths, who were a good deal puzzled in their own minds as to whether they were friends or enemies, exchanged glances a day or two later, when stringent orders were issued respecting the behaviour of the Englishmen to the natives. The men of both services were warned to be very careful, especially as it was the custom for the Malays to carry the deadly kris. The character of the people too was enlarged upon, their pride and self-esteem; and strict orders were given, to be followed by severe punishment if disobeyed, that the people and their belongings were to be treated with the greatest respect.

Every one was as busy as could be, for there was an immense amount of labour necessary to get the place into a state satisfactory to the various officers. Great preparations were being made too for the first meeting with Sultan Hamet, though it was a matter of doubt whether he would come to the residency in state, or expect the English to call upon him in his palm-thatched palace.

“He’s a rum sort of a chap,” Dick the sailor said, freely giving his opinion. “Sultan, indeed! What call have they to say he’s a sultan? Why, Sergeant Lund, Billy Mustard, and that sick chap Sim, who went ashore with despatches, come back last night, and they say it’s no more a palace as he lives in than a pig-sty. It’s for all the world like a big bamboo barn, thatched with leaves.”

“What’s that?” said Bob Roberts, coming up, with the young ensign, to where two or three of the sailors were, under the trees, talking to a group of soldiers.

“I was a telling of ’em about what Sergeant Lund told me, sir,” said Dick, pulling his forelock, “that this here sultan as we’ve come here to protect lives in a place as is just like a big bamboo barn standing on stilts. And Lor’ ha’ mercy, they say it was a sight: with leaves, and cabbage stumps, and potato parings chucked about under the place!”

“Now come, Dick,” cried the middy; “no yarns, please.”

“Well sir, of course I don’t mean real English cabbage stumps and potato parings, same as we has at home, but what answers for ’em here, and coky-nut huxes and shells, and banana rinds, and a nasty bad smelling kind o’ fruit as they calls doorings.”

Bob gave the ensign a comical look.

“Why Billy Mustard says—and this here’s a fack—as the smell o’ them doorings.”

“Durians, Dick.”

“All right, sir,” said the old sailor; “that don’t make ’em smell a bit better—the smell o’ them things knocked him slap off his feet.”

The men laughed, and old Dick went on—

“Everything about the place was as ontidy as a bilge hole; and when our ambassadors—”

“Our what?” said Bob.

“Well, them as carried the despatches, sir—got close up, they was told to wait because the sultan was asleep. When seeing as a reg’lar party of the Malays, every man with his bit of a toasting fork by his side, come round to stare at ’em, Sergeant Lund he says to himself, ‘Lor’! what a pity it is as I haven’t got Private Tomkins, or Private Binns, or two or three more nice smart, handsome chaps o’ that kind with me, instead of such a scuffy couple o’ fellows as Sim and Mustard.’”

Here, of course, there was a roar of laughter, for Privates Tomkins and Binns were amongst the listeners.

“Come away,” said Tom Long, frowning. “I don’t like mixing with our men.”

“No, no: stop,” cried Bob. “They won’t think any the less of us; we’re off duty now.”

Tom Long wanted to hear what was said, so he remained.

“And one of our nice hansum young orficers,” continued Dick, in the most solemn way, “and a middy and some smart Jacks.”

“And Dick Dunnage,” said one of the soldiers.

“Well, he did mention me, but I was too modest to say so.”

Here there was another laugh.

“‘How so be,’” continued Dick, “he sez; ‘must make the best o’ what material we got,’ so he pulls his men together, squares their yards, and coils down all their ropes tidy, tightens the breechings o’ their guns, and lets the poor benighted savages of niggers have their fill o’ staring at real British sodgers. Then they turned civil, and brought ’em out drinks, and fruit, and pipes; and they was very comfortable, till some one come out and said as the sultan was awake, and wanted his cocks, so the chap as went as interpreter told them; and then there was a bustle, and some three or four chaps went and fetched some fighting-cocks, and took ’em inside the barn—I mean the palace; and our fellows was kept waiting till the sergeant hears a reg’lar cock-a-doodle-doo, just for all the world as if he was at home, and he know’d by that as one of the birds had won. Just about a minute after some one come and beckoned him, and he goes up the steps into the palace, as had bamboo floors, and carpets lying about; and there was the sultan up at one end, sitting on carpet, and all his wives and people about him.”

“How many wives had he got, Dick?” said the midshipman.

“About a dozen, sir. But I’ll just tell you how many he’d have had if my missus had been one on ’em.”

“How many, Dick?”

“Just one, sir; she’d clear out all the others in a brace o’ shakes. She wouldn’t stand none o’ that nonsense. Why, bless yer ’art, there was one had got a golden pestle and mortar—”

“Gently, Dick! gently!” said the midshipman.

“It’s a fack, sir, and as sure as I stand here; and she was a bruising up betel-nuts for him to chew, and another was mixing up lime, and another spreading leaves, whilst—there, I dursn’t hardly tell you this here, because you won’t believe it.”

“Let it off gently, Dick,” said the middy, “and we’ll try and bear it.”

“Well, sir, hang me if one of his wives—the oldest and ugliest of ’em—wasn’t sitting there holden a golden spittoon ready for him to use whenever he wanted.”

There was another roar of laughter, and Dick exclaimed,—

“There, you ask Sergeant Lund if every word a’most I’ve said ain’t quite true,”—which, with the exception of Dick’s embellishment about the handsome sailors and soldiers, proved to be the case.

Chapter Eight.Tom Long’s Wound.Doctor Bolter had been very proud of the cure he had effected in the case of Adam Gray, whom, from that day forward, he looked upon in quite a different light, obtaining his services as often as possible in carrying out what he called his measures for preserving the camp in health, and he was constantly sending Gray on missions to the major. But the doctor and his plans were set aside one morning, when there was an order for a general parade; and it was evident that there was something important on the way, for a good deal of bustle was visible on the deck of the steamer.The news soon leaked out that the resident and officers were to make a state visit, full of ceremony, to the sultan; and in consequence there was a general turn out, in full review order, with the band. The sailors landed, and were drawn up on the shore, looking smart in their white, easy-fitting dress; and the steamer’s cutters were soon after busy, landing the greater portion of the troops with their officers, in full uniform; while quite a crowd of Malays assembled on the beach, staring, some in wonderment, some manifestly in dislike, at the strangers.The grand muster took place beneath the shade of some large trees, as far as was possible, for the heat was intense. Every one was in his best; and Ensign Long marched by Bob Roberts with a very bright sword beneath his arm, and putting on a pair of white kid gloves.The middy tried to take matters coolly; but the thoroughly consequential air of his companion roused his ire, and he longed to do something to upset him.That was, however, impossible, for the arrangements were complete; and the march inland, about a couple of miles, commenced with the Malays now drawing off into the woods, till—what looked rather ominous—the little force was left entirely alone.The officers commented upon the fact, and felt a little suspicious, but their doubts were set aside by the appearance of a little party, of evidently some importance, for two, who seemed to be chiefs, were mounted upon small elephants, and these, by the voice of one of the party—a handsome, dark youth, in brilliant silk sarong and baju—announced themselves as coming from the sultan to act as guides.This changed the state of affairs, and the idea that there might be treachery afoot was completely dismissed from the minds of all, save when, now and then, the gleam of a spear head was seen amidst the trees in the jungle; and Major Sandars pointed out how easily they might be led into an ambush.Captain Horton was by his side, and that officer agreed that it would be easy; but, at the same time, gave it as his opinion that the best policy they could affect was an appearance of full confidence in the Malay potentate, while they kept strictly on their guard.Farther back in the line of troops Private Gray was marching along, feeling anything but easy in his mind; for as he glanced now and then to his left, he kept making out the gleam of steel, or the white garments of some Malay amidst the trees; and at last, just as Captain Smithers was abreast, he pointed out to him the fact.The captain felt disposed to resent it as a breach of discipline; but the young man’s manner was so earnest, that he nodded, and watchfully turned his head in the same direction.“What do you think then, Gray?” said the captain. “They are only people taking an interest in what is, to them, a great sight.”“I’m suspicious, sir, by nature,” said Gray, “and I can’t help feeling that we are living on the edge of a volcano.”“Do you always make use of such fine language, Gray?” said Captain Smithers with a sneer.“I beg your pardon, sir,” was the reply; “I was trying to speak respectfully to my officer,” replied Gray.Captain Smithers frowned, and felt annoyed with himself for his meanness.“Yes, yes, of course, Gray,” he said, hastily; “but there is nothing to fear.”“Nothing to fear!” thought Private Gray; “and we are trusting ourselves entirely to these people, who are known to be treacherous; and the ladies and the women of the regiment are all on that island, protected by only a weak force!”Strangely enough, Captain Smithers had very similar thoughts to these as they rambled on, in tolerable coolness now, for they were beneath the trees.They both thought afterwards that their fears were needless; and following the guides, they soon after were formed up in front of the sultan’s house and those of his principal men, all of which, though certainly somewhat better than the sergeant’s account to Dick Dunnage, would have led any one to expect, were of an extremely simple and lowly character.Here the officers waited for their audience of the great man, Mr Linton being particularly anxious to make arrangements for carrying out the political business upon which he was engaged; but after waiting half an hour, one of the principal chiefs came out to announce that the sultan was too unwell to receive them.The English officers flushed up, and looked upon the message as an insult, and for the moment there seemed a disposition to resent it; but the wise counsels of Mr Linton prevailed, and the order was given to march back.Just then the young chief who had acted as interpreter before, and who spoke very good English, approached the place where Bob Roberts and the ensign were standing.“I am very sorry,” he said; “I meant to ask you to refreshments. Will you take cigars?”They had only time to thank the young chief for his courtesy and take their places, as the march back was commenced—this time without guides, for none came forward, which was looked upon as so ominous a sign that extra care was taken, the men marching with loaded arms.The precautions were not unnecessary; for they had hardly effected half their march, when there was the loud beating of a gong heard upon their right, followed by the same deafening din on the left.The men were steadied in the ranks, and every one was on the alert; but still there came nothing more to cause alarm till they had arrived within half a mile of their landing-place, when, as they were passing through a more open portion of the track, there was a shout, and a shower of limbings came whizzing past them. Again a shout, this time on their left, and another shower of the keenly-pointed spears whizzed by.There was a short, sharp command or two as the soldiers faced outwards, and every other man fired, sending a ringing volley crashing through the forest.There was another din, made by the beating of gongs, and a few more spears were thrown, one of which struck Ensign Long; and these were replied to by another sharp volley, which crashed through the trees, making the twigs and leaves rattle as they pattered down. Then there was a dead silence, as the troops waited for fresh orders.Bob Roberts, who was close by the ensign, turned pale as ashes as he saw the ensign stagger back, to stand literally pinned to a tree, in which the blade of the limbing had buried itself. All feeling of jealousy had passed away, and, catching Long by the hand, he gazed earnestly in his face.“Are you much hurt, old fellow?” he cried hoarsely, as he realised the fact that the keen spear had passed diagonally through the youth’s breast before it buried itself in the soft endogenous tree.“I don’t know yet,” said Tom Long quietly; “but the brutes have ruined my best tunic.”“Hang your tunic!” cried Bob, excitedly. “Here, fetch the doctor. No; help here to get Mr Long to the residency. Bring up a dhooly.”“I suppose I shall feel it when they draw out the spear,” said Tom Long calmly.“Do you feel faint?” cried the middy. “Here, who has a little rack?”“Here’s some water, sir, in my canteen,” said Sergeant Lund. “Forward!” rang out from behind just then; and then the voice of Captain Smithers made itself heard,—“Who’s that down?”“Ensign Long, sir,” some one said.“Poor lad! poor lad!” cried the captain. “Ah, Long, my dear boy, how is it with you? Good heavens! Quick, my lads; bring up a dhooly.”“Hadn’t we better get the spear out, sir?” said Bob Roberts, anxiously.“Yes, out of the tree, of course,” said the captain; “but mind—steady! Here, let me. I won’t hurt you more than I can help,” he continued, as he drew the spear out of the palm, and then hesitated as to how they were to manage to carry the injured man, with the lengthy shaft passing through his chest.Tom Long solved the question himself by taking hold of the spear handle with both hands and giving it a tug, while every one present gazed at him with horror, expecting to see the terrible stains that must follow.Bob Roberts dragged out his handkerchief and rapidly doubled it, ready to form a pad to staunch the bleeding—rushing forward to clap it to the wound, as the ensign tore the spear from his breast.“Open his tunic first,” cried Captain Smithers; and he bore Tom Long back on to the ground, tearing open his scarlet uniform, while the injured object of his attentions began to work his left arm about.“I say, gently,” he said. “I don’t think I’m much hurt.”“You don’t feel it yet,” cried Bob Roberts.“Look out there!” cried a voice in authority somewhere behind; and then a couple of men ran up with a light hospital litter for wounded or sick men.“It went—it went—” said Tom Long, slowly.“Why, confound you, Long,” said Captain Smithers; “you’ve not been scratched.”“No; I do not think I am,” said the ensign, getting up, feeling himself carefully about the chest. “It went through my tunic and under my left arm.”“Why, you’ve got about six inches of padding in your coat,” said Bob Roberts, whose hands were busy about the young man’s breast.“Yes,” said Tom Long; “more or less.”“Forward!” shouted Captain Smithers; and the march was resumed, with Tom Long looking very woeful about the two holes that had been made in his scarlet tunic, and gradually growing terribly annoyed, as he saw Bob Roberts pretending to stifle his laughter; while the men, in spite of the danger on either side, tittered and grinned as they kept catching sight of the young officer’s scarlet cloth wounds.Major Sandars was equally anxious with the resident to get back to the island, for a feeling of dread had risen up that the residency might have been attacked during their absence. In fact, it seemed now that they had been out-generalled; and if their fort, and provisions, and stores should be in the hands of the Malays, their position would be perilous in the extreme.As Bob Roberts went on, he found the men eagerly discussing the matter, not from a feeling of fear, but of love of excitement; and, among others, Private Sim was saying in a low voice, that if he had only been well and strong, nothing would have pleased him better than fighting his way back through the jungle, “anywheres—to the world’s end if they liked.”Meanwhile, though it was evident that there was a large body of Malays on their right, the answer they had got to their first attack had kept them off, and the long line of troops and blue-jackets went on unmolested by their enemies. Every precaution was taken; and in some of the denser portions of the jungle they regularly felt their way with advance guards and flankers, who, poor fellows, had a most tough job to force their way through the tangled creepers and undergrowth.At length, however, the river was reached, and it was evident, to the great delight and relief of all, that the island was safe, and the steamer lay in its old position, unmolested by prahu or attack from the shore.Every man breathed more freely on seeing this; and the boats coming off, the whole party were rapidly transferred to steamer and to isle, where a council was called, and the situation discussed.It was a peculiar position for the little force which had been sent up the country to help and protect Sultan Hamet, who, in return,—had refused to see Her Majesty’s representative, and allowed them to be attacked by his people on their way back.The question to decide was, whether, after such an insult as they had received, the little force ought not to at once retire from their position, though the bolder spirits were in favour of holding it at all costs, and trying to read the sultan such a lesson as should scare his people from venturing to molest the English any more.The council was interrupted by an embassy of a couple of chiefs from the sultan himself, who solved the difficulty by announcing that the attack was not made by their ruler’s people, but by a certain rajah, whose campong, or village, was a few miles up the river. This chief was a respecter of no one, but levied black mail of all who passed down the stream. Every boat laden with slabs of tin or bags of rice had to pay toll for permission to pass on in peace; and if resistance was offered, he had guns mounted upon his stockade, and a couple of well-armed prahus, whose crews liked nothing better than confiscating any boat whose owner endeavoured to resist the rajah’s demands.Any doubts as to the truth of this story were set aside by the sultan’s earnest request that the English officers should at once proceed up the river and severely punish this rajah, who was a thorn in Hamet’s side.With the promise that the matter should have proper consideration, the two chiefs took their departure; and the rest of the evening was spent in examining different Malays from the village, all of whom told the same story, that it was Rajah Gantang who had made the attack, and that he was a perfect scourge to the people round.The next day further investigations were made; and had any doubt remained, it was chased away by the appearance of two long war prahus, pulled by a large number of rowers, and crammed with Malays.These vessels were allowed to float gently down with the stream, stern foremost, when, as much out of bravado as anything, several shots were fired from the small brass swivel guns on board, the little balls rattling through the steep roof of the men’s quarters; while before a gun could be brought to bear, the oars rapidly plashed the water, and the two prahus were swept back round a wooded point up stream, well out of sight.This was sufficient for the officers in command, who issued such orders as placed all the men in a state of the most intense excitement, for it was evident that there was to be an expedition up the river to punish the audacious chief, who was probably in profound ignorance of the strength of the power he had braved.

Doctor Bolter had been very proud of the cure he had effected in the case of Adam Gray, whom, from that day forward, he looked upon in quite a different light, obtaining his services as often as possible in carrying out what he called his measures for preserving the camp in health, and he was constantly sending Gray on missions to the major. But the doctor and his plans were set aside one morning, when there was an order for a general parade; and it was evident that there was something important on the way, for a good deal of bustle was visible on the deck of the steamer.

The news soon leaked out that the resident and officers were to make a state visit, full of ceremony, to the sultan; and in consequence there was a general turn out, in full review order, with the band. The sailors landed, and were drawn up on the shore, looking smart in their white, easy-fitting dress; and the steamer’s cutters were soon after busy, landing the greater portion of the troops with their officers, in full uniform; while quite a crowd of Malays assembled on the beach, staring, some in wonderment, some manifestly in dislike, at the strangers.

The grand muster took place beneath the shade of some large trees, as far as was possible, for the heat was intense. Every one was in his best; and Ensign Long marched by Bob Roberts with a very bright sword beneath his arm, and putting on a pair of white kid gloves.

The middy tried to take matters coolly; but the thoroughly consequential air of his companion roused his ire, and he longed to do something to upset him.

That was, however, impossible, for the arrangements were complete; and the march inland, about a couple of miles, commenced with the Malays now drawing off into the woods, till—what looked rather ominous—the little force was left entirely alone.

The officers commented upon the fact, and felt a little suspicious, but their doubts were set aside by the appearance of a little party, of evidently some importance, for two, who seemed to be chiefs, were mounted upon small elephants, and these, by the voice of one of the party—a handsome, dark youth, in brilliant silk sarong and baju—announced themselves as coming from the sultan to act as guides.

This changed the state of affairs, and the idea that there might be treachery afoot was completely dismissed from the minds of all, save when, now and then, the gleam of a spear head was seen amidst the trees in the jungle; and Major Sandars pointed out how easily they might be led into an ambush.

Captain Horton was by his side, and that officer agreed that it would be easy; but, at the same time, gave it as his opinion that the best policy they could affect was an appearance of full confidence in the Malay potentate, while they kept strictly on their guard.

Farther back in the line of troops Private Gray was marching along, feeling anything but easy in his mind; for as he glanced now and then to his left, he kept making out the gleam of steel, or the white garments of some Malay amidst the trees; and at last, just as Captain Smithers was abreast, he pointed out to him the fact.

The captain felt disposed to resent it as a breach of discipline; but the young man’s manner was so earnest, that he nodded, and watchfully turned his head in the same direction.

“What do you think then, Gray?” said the captain. “They are only people taking an interest in what is, to them, a great sight.”

“I’m suspicious, sir, by nature,” said Gray, “and I can’t help feeling that we are living on the edge of a volcano.”

“Do you always make use of such fine language, Gray?” said Captain Smithers with a sneer.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” was the reply; “I was trying to speak respectfully to my officer,” replied Gray.

Captain Smithers frowned, and felt annoyed with himself for his meanness.

“Yes, yes, of course, Gray,” he said, hastily; “but there is nothing to fear.”

“Nothing to fear!” thought Private Gray; “and we are trusting ourselves entirely to these people, who are known to be treacherous; and the ladies and the women of the regiment are all on that island, protected by only a weak force!”

Strangely enough, Captain Smithers had very similar thoughts to these as they rambled on, in tolerable coolness now, for they were beneath the trees.

They both thought afterwards that their fears were needless; and following the guides, they soon after were formed up in front of the sultan’s house and those of his principal men, all of which, though certainly somewhat better than the sergeant’s account to Dick Dunnage, would have led any one to expect, were of an extremely simple and lowly character.

Here the officers waited for their audience of the great man, Mr Linton being particularly anxious to make arrangements for carrying out the political business upon which he was engaged; but after waiting half an hour, one of the principal chiefs came out to announce that the sultan was too unwell to receive them.

The English officers flushed up, and looked upon the message as an insult, and for the moment there seemed a disposition to resent it; but the wise counsels of Mr Linton prevailed, and the order was given to march back.

Just then the young chief who had acted as interpreter before, and who spoke very good English, approached the place where Bob Roberts and the ensign were standing.

“I am very sorry,” he said; “I meant to ask you to refreshments. Will you take cigars?”

They had only time to thank the young chief for his courtesy and take their places, as the march back was commenced—this time without guides, for none came forward, which was looked upon as so ominous a sign that extra care was taken, the men marching with loaded arms.

The precautions were not unnecessary; for they had hardly effected half their march, when there was the loud beating of a gong heard upon their right, followed by the same deafening din on the left.

The men were steadied in the ranks, and every one was on the alert; but still there came nothing more to cause alarm till they had arrived within half a mile of their landing-place, when, as they were passing through a more open portion of the track, there was a shout, and a shower of limbings came whizzing past them. Again a shout, this time on their left, and another shower of the keenly-pointed spears whizzed by.

There was a short, sharp command or two as the soldiers faced outwards, and every other man fired, sending a ringing volley crashing through the forest.

There was another din, made by the beating of gongs, and a few more spears were thrown, one of which struck Ensign Long; and these were replied to by another sharp volley, which crashed through the trees, making the twigs and leaves rattle as they pattered down. Then there was a dead silence, as the troops waited for fresh orders.

Bob Roberts, who was close by the ensign, turned pale as ashes as he saw the ensign stagger back, to stand literally pinned to a tree, in which the blade of the limbing had buried itself. All feeling of jealousy had passed away, and, catching Long by the hand, he gazed earnestly in his face.

“Are you much hurt, old fellow?” he cried hoarsely, as he realised the fact that the keen spear had passed diagonally through the youth’s breast before it buried itself in the soft endogenous tree.

“I don’t know yet,” said Tom Long quietly; “but the brutes have ruined my best tunic.”

“Hang your tunic!” cried Bob, excitedly. “Here, fetch the doctor. No; help here to get Mr Long to the residency. Bring up a dhooly.”

“I suppose I shall feel it when they draw out the spear,” said Tom Long calmly.

“Do you feel faint?” cried the middy. “Here, who has a little rack?”

“Here’s some water, sir, in my canteen,” said Sergeant Lund. “Forward!” rang out from behind just then; and then the voice of Captain Smithers made itself heard,—

“Who’s that down?”

“Ensign Long, sir,” some one said.

“Poor lad! poor lad!” cried the captain. “Ah, Long, my dear boy, how is it with you? Good heavens! Quick, my lads; bring up a dhooly.”

“Hadn’t we better get the spear out, sir?” said Bob Roberts, anxiously.

“Yes, out of the tree, of course,” said the captain; “but mind—steady! Here, let me. I won’t hurt you more than I can help,” he continued, as he drew the spear out of the palm, and then hesitated as to how they were to manage to carry the injured man, with the lengthy shaft passing through his chest.

Tom Long solved the question himself by taking hold of the spear handle with both hands and giving it a tug, while every one present gazed at him with horror, expecting to see the terrible stains that must follow.

Bob Roberts dragged out his handkerchief and rapidly doubled it, ready to form a pad to staunch the bleeding—rushing forward to clap it to the wound, as the ensign tore the spear from his breast.

“Open his tunic first,” cried Captain Smithers; and he bore Tom Long back on to the ground, tearing open his scarlet uniform, while the injured object of his attentions began to work his left arm about.

“I say, gently,” he said. “I don’t think I’m much hurt.”

“You don’t feel it yet,” cried Bob Roberts.

“Look out there!” cried a voice in authority somewhere behind; and then a couple of men ran up with a light hospital litter for wounded or sick men.

“It went—it went—” said Tom Long, slowly.

“Why, confound you, Long,” said Captain Smithers; “you’ve not been scratched.”

“No; I do not think I am,” said the ensign, getting up, feeling himself carefully about the chest. “It went through my tunic and under my left arm.”

“Why, you’ve got about six inches of padding in your coat,” said Bob Roberts, whose hands were busy about the young man’s breast.

“Yes,” said Tom Long; “more or less.”

“Forward!” shouted Captain Smithers; and the march was resumed, with Tom Long looking very woeful about the two holes that had been made in his scarlet tunic, and gradually growing terribly annoyed, as he saw Bob Roberts pretending to stifle his laughter; while the men, in spite of the danger on either side, tittered and grinned as they kept catching sight of the young officer’s scarlet cloth wounds.

Major Sandars was equally anxious with the resident to get back to the island, for a feeling of dread had risen up that the residency might have been attacked during their absence. In fact, it seemed now that they had been out-generalled; and if their fort, and provisions, and stores should be in the hands of the Malays, their position would be perilous in the extreme.

As Bob Roberts went on, he found the men eagerly discussing the matter, not from a feeling of fear, but of love of excitement; and, among others, Private Sim was saying in a low voice, that if he had only been well and strong, nothing would have pleased him better than fighting his way back through the jungle, “anywheres—to the world’s end if they liked.”

Meanwhile, though it was evident that there was a large body of Malays on their right, the answer they had got to their first attack had kept them off, and the long line of troops and blue-jackets went on unmolested by their enemies. Every precaution was taken; and in some of the denser portions of the jungle they regularly felt their way with advance guards and flankers, who, poor fellows, had a most tough job to force their way through the tangled creepers and undergrowth.

At length, however, the river was reached, and it was evident, to the great delight and relief of all, that the island was safe, and the steamer lay in its old position, unmolested by prahu or attack from the shore.

Every man breathed more freely on seeing this; and the boats coming off, the whole party were rapidly transferred to steamer and to isle, where a council was called, and the situation discussed.

It was a peculiar position for the little force which had been sent up the country to help and protect Sultan Hamet, who, in return,—had refused to see Her Majesty’s representative, and allowed them to be attacked by his people on their way back.

The question to decide was, whether, after such an insult as they had received, the little force ought not to at once retire from their position, though the bolder spirits were in favour of holding it at all costs, and trying to read the sultan such a lesson as should scare his people from venturing to molest the English any more.

The council was interrupted by an embassy of a couple of chiefs from the sultan himself, who solved the difficulty by announcing that the attack was not made by their ruler’s people, but by a certain rajah, whose campong, or village, was a few miles up the river. This chief was a respecter of no one, but levied black mail of all who passed down the stream. Every boat laden with slabs of tin or bags of rice had to pay toll for permission to pass on in peace; and if resistance was offered, he had guns mounted upon his stockade, and a couple of well-armed prahus, whose crews liked nothing better than confiscating any boat whose owner endeavoured to resist the rajah’s demands.

Any doubts as to the truth of this story were set aside by the sultan’s earnest request that the English officers should at once proceed up the river and severely punish this rajah, who was a thorn in Hamet’s side.

With the promise that the matter should have proper consideration, the two chiefs took their departure; and the rest of the evening was spent in examining different Malays from the village, all of whom told the same story, that it was Rajah Gantang who had made the attack, and that he was a perfect scourge to the people round.

The next day further investigations were made; and had any doubt remained, it was chased away by the appearance of two long war prahus, pulled by a large number of rowers, and crammed with Malays.

These vessels were allowed to float gently down with the stream, stern foremost, when, as much out of bravado as anything, several shots were fired from the small brass swivel guns on board, the little balls rattling through the steep roof of the men’s quarters; while before a gun could be brought to bear, the oars rapidly plashed the water, and the two prahus were swept back round a wooded point up stream, well out of sight.

This was sufficient for the officers in command, who issued such orders as placed all the men in a state of the most intense excitement, for it was evident that there was to be an expedition up the river to punish the audacious chief, who was probably in profound ignorance of the strength of the power he had braved.

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