Chapter Fourteen.How Bob Roberts made a Firm Friend.Bob Roberts seized his sword and dashed to the window, leaping boldly out, and shouting for help; and as he did so he heard the bushes rapidly parted, the crackling of twigs on ahead, and then, as he neared the river in pursuit of the assailant, there was a loud splash, followed by the challenge of a sentry and the report of his piece.A brisk time of excitement followed, during which a thorough search was made, but no one was found; and it was evident that the spear had been thrown by an enemy who had come alone; but the incident was sufficient to create a general feeling of uneasiness at the residency. The sentries were doubled, and orders were given that the place should be carefully patrolled; for though the English were upon an island, the Malays were such expert swimmers that they could start up stream and let themselves float down to the head of the island and land.It was some few days before Bob Roberts was able to pay another visit to the residency, for he had been out twice with the steamer’s boats, in search of the two escaped Malay prahus, each time on insufficient information; and after a weary pull through a winding mangrove creek, had come back without seeing them.Meantime the relations with the Malays were daily growing in friendliness. A brisk trade with the shore was carried on, and sampans from far up the river came laden with fruit, fish, and rice; some brought poultry, and green sugar-cane for eating; others cocoa-nuts, and quaint articles for barter. But somehow there was an uneasy feeling on the island, that though the sultan and his people were friendly, some of the rajahs detested the English, as being likely to put a stop to their piratical practices, the destruction of Rajah Gantang’s stockade, while it gave plenty of satisfaction in some parts, being looked upon with disfavour in others.“Pretty well all right again, old man?” said Bob, sauntering in one day, to find the ensign reading.“Yes, I’m stronger by a good deal than I was,” said Tom Long, holding out his hand.“No more limbings pitched in at the window, eh?”“No,” said Tom Long with a slight shudder; “I hope that sort of thing is not going to happen again.”“To which I say ditto,” said Bob. “But I say, I know who pitched that spear at you.”“You do?”“Yes, it was that Malay chap you offended with the durian.”“Then he must be taken and punished.”“First catch your brown hare, master officer of infantry,” said Bob, smiling. “He won’t set foot here again, depend upon it, unless he slinks in at night. By George, what a malicious lot they must be, to act like that!”“Yes, it’s not pleasant,” said Tom Long, with an involuntary shudder, as, in imagination, he saw the dark face of his enemy always on the watch for an opportunity to assassinate him.“I never finished my account of the trip to the sultan’s,” said Bob, at last.“Was there anything more to tell?”“Yes, one thing,” replied Bob; “the best of the whole lot.”“What was it?”“Don’t get riled if I tell you.”“Pooh! how can it rile me?”“Oh, I don’t know; only it may. It was a proposal made by the sultan to Mr Linton.”“Proposal! What proposal?”“Well, I’ll tell you; only don’t go into fits. It was after we’d been sitting smoking for a bit, and just before we were coming away. Master Sultan had shown us all his best things—his gold and silver, and his slaves, and the dingy beauties with great earrings, and bangles on their arms and legs, who have the honour of being his wives; and at last he said something to Mr Linton, who understands his lingo as well as you and I do French.”“Well, but what did he propose?” said Long, eagerly.“I got to know afterwards from Captain Smithers,” continued Bob, “that he said he had been thinking very seriously about his position in connexion with the English, and that he saw how a strong alliance would be best for all; that it would settle him in his government, and make it a very excellent match for the English, who would be able to get tin and rice from the sultan’s people, and gold.”“You’re as prosy as an old woman,” said Tom Long, impatiently.“Yes, it’s an accomplishment of mine,” said Bob coolly. “Well, as I was telling you, he said the proper thing was a very strong alliance; and the resident said we had already made one. He said he wanted a stronger one; and he thought the best thing would be for him to marry Miss Linton and her cousin, and then it would be all right.”“Why, confound his insolence!” said Tom Long, starting up.“No, no, you must say something else,” cried Bob. “I said that as soon as I heard it.”“Did not Mr Linton knock him down?” cried Tom Long.“No, he did not. He heard him out, and said it must be a matter of consideration; and then we came away.”“But it’s monstrous!” cried Tom Long.“Of course it is,” said Bob, coolly; “but don’t you see it was of no use to break with the fellow at once. It was a case of diplomacy. We don’t want to quarrel with Master Sultan Hamet: we want to keep friends.”“But it was such an insult to the ladies!”“He looked as if he thought he was doing them an honour, Master Long, so it wouldn’t have done to fall out with him. There, don’t look so fierce, we’ve got a difficult game to play here, and our great point is not to quarrel with the Malays, unless we want spears thrown in at every dark window while we stay.”Tom Long sat biting his nails, for Bob had touched him in a very tender part, and he knew it. In fact, the middy rather enjoyed his companion’s vexation, for he had begun, since his memorable conversation with Miss Linton, to look upon his feelings towards her with a more matter-of-fact eye.“I shall have to get about at once,” said Tom Long, speaking as if his weight in the scale would completely make Sultan Hamet kick the beam; but upon seeing the mirthful look in Bob Roberts’ eye, he changed the subject, and began talking about how he longed to be out and about again.“I thought we should get no end of fishing and shooting out here,” he said, “and we’ve had none as yet.”“Get well, then, and we’ll have a try for some,” Rob suggested. “There must be plenty;” and with the understanding that the ensign was to declare himself fit to be off the doctor’s hands as soon as possible, Bob Roberts returned to the steamer, and then finding it terribly close, he did what he had acquired a habit of doing when the weather was very hot, found a snug shady place on deck, and went off to sleep.That was very easy in those latitudes. Whether the sun shone or whether it was gloomy, black, and precursive of a thunder-storm, an European had only to sit down in a rocking chair, or swing in a hammock, and he went off into a delicious slumber almost on the instant.So far so good; the difficulty was to keep asleep; and so Bob Roberts found.He had settled himself in a low basket-work chair, beneath a stout piece of awning which shed a mellow twilight upon the deck, and loosening his collar, he had dropped off at once; but hardly was he asleep before “burr-urr-urr boom-oom-oom, boozz-oozz-oozz” came a great fly, banging itself against the awning, sailing round and round, now up, now down, as if Bob’s head were the centre of its attraction, and he could not get farther away. Now it seemed to have made up its mind to beat itself to pieces against the canvas, and now to try how near it could go to the midshipman’s nose without touching, and keeping up all the time such an aggravating, irritating buzz that it woke Bob directly.There was plenty of room for the ridiculous insect to have flown right out from beneath the awning and over the flashing river to the jungle; but no, that did not seem to suit its ideas, and it kept on with its monotonous buzz, round and round, and round and round.Half awake, half asleep, Bob fidgeted a little, changed his position, and with his eyes shut hit out sharply at his tormentor, but of course without effect.He turned over, turned back; laid his head on one side; then on the other; and at last, as the miserable buzzing noise continued, he jumped up in a rage, picked up a book for a weapon, and followed the fly about, trying to get a fair blow—but all in vain. He hit at it flying, settled on the canvas roof; on the arms of chairs, and on the deck, and twice upon a rope—but all in vain: the wretched insect kept up its irritating buzz, till, hot, panting, his brows throbbing with the exertion, Bob made a furious dash at it, and with one tremendous blow crushed it flat.The middy drew a long breath, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and, panting and weary, threw himself back in the chair, and closed his eyes.He was a clever sleeper, Bob Roberts. Like the Irishman who went to sleep for two or three days, when Bob went to sleep, he “paid attintion to it.” In a few seconds then he was fast, and—truth must be told—with his mouth open, and a very unpleasant noise arising therefrom.Vain hope of rest. Even as he threw himself back, a little many-legged creature, about two inches long, was industriously making its way over the deck towards where one of the middy’s limbs lay outstretched, and in a few seconds it had mounted his shoe, examined it with a pair of long thin antenna, and then given the leather a pinch with a pair of hooked claws at its tail.Apparently dissatisfied, the long thin yellow insect ran on to the sleeper’s sock, carefully examined its texture, tasted it with its tail, and still not satisfied, proceeded to walk up one of the very wide open duck trouser legs, that must have been to it like the entrance to some grand tunnel, temptingly inviting investigation.The insect disappeared; Bob snored, and there was the loud buzzing murmur of men’s voices, talking drowsily together, when, as if suddenly electrified, Bob leaped up with a sharp cry, slapped his leg vigorously, and stood shaking his trousers till the long thin insect tumbled on to the white deck, and was duly crushed.“Scissors! how it stings!” cried Bob, rubbing the place. “O Lor’! what a place this is to be sure. Who the dickens can get a nod?”Bob Roberts was determined upon having one evidently, for having given the obnoxious remains another stamp, he took a look round, to see if any other pest, winged or legged, had been brought from the shore, and seeing nothing, he again settled himself down, gave a turn or two and a twist to get himself comfortable, ending by sitting with his legs stretched straight out, his head thrown back, and his nose pointed straight up at the awning.This time Bob went off fast asleep; his cap fell on to the deck, but it did not disturb him; and he was evidently making up for lost time, when a very industrious spider, who had made his home in the awning, came boldly out of a fold by a seam of the canvas, and with busy legs proceeded to examine the state and tension of some threads, which it had previously stretched as the basis of a web upon a geometrical plan, expressly to catch mosquitoes.Apparently satisfied, the spider set to work busily, its dark, heavy body showing plainly against the yellowish canvas; and in a very short time a main rope was attached to the roof, and the architect of fly-nets began slowly to descend in search of a point to which the other end of the said main-stay could be attacked.Now fate had so arranged it, that the point exactly beneath the spider as it slowly descended was the tip of Bob Roberts’ nose, and to this point in the course of a minute the insect nearly arrived.It may be thought that its next act would be to alight and fix its rope; but this was not so easy, for the soft zephyr-like breaths the middy exhaled drove the swinging architect to and fro. Now it came near, now it was driven away; but at last it got near enough to grasp at the sleeper’s most prominent feature, just brushing it with its legs, and setting up an irritating tickling that made Bob snort and scratch his face.The spider swung to and fro for some seconds, and then there was another terrible tickle, to which Bob responded by fiercely rubbing the offending organ.The spider was driven to a distance by this; but it was back again directly, with its legs stretched out, tickling as before.Bob was not asleep, and he was not awake, and he could neither sink into oblivion, nor thoroughly rouse himself. All he could do was to bestow an irritable scratch at his nose, and the spider came back again.At last, spider or no spider, he dropped into a strange dreamy state, in which he believed that Tom Long came and loomed over him on purpose to bend down and tickle him, out of spite and jealousy, with the long thin feather from a paroquet’s tail.“Don’t! Bother!” said Bob, in his sleep; but the tickling went on, and he felt ready to leap up and strike his tormentor; but he seemed to be held down by some strange power which kept him from moving, and the tickling still went on.Then he could hear voices talking, and people seemed to be about, laughing at and enjoying the trick that was being played upon him; and then he started into wakefulness, for a voice exclaimed,—“Come, Mr Roberts, are you going to wake up?”It was Lieutenant Johnson who spoke; and on the middy jumping up, he found standing by him, with the lieutenant, the dark-faced youth who had met them and acted as guide on the occasion when they made their first visit to the sultan’s home.He was dressed similarly to the way in which he made his first appearance before the English party; that is to say, he wore the silken jacket and sarong of the Malay chiefs, with a natty little embroidered cap, set jauntily upon his head like that of a cavalry soldier; but in addition he wore the trousers, white shirt-front, and patent leather boots of an Englishman, and the middy saw that he had a gold albert chain and straw-coloured kid gloves.“This gentleman is the son of the Tumongong of Parang, Mr Roberts,” said the lieutenant, “and he has come on board to see the ship. Take him round and show him everything, especially the armoury, and let him understand the power of the guns. Captain Horton wishes it.”The lieutenant looked meaningly at the middy, who saluted, and then nodded his head in a way that showed he comprehended his task.“The skipper wants these people to know that it is of no good to try and tackle us,” thought Bob. “Yes, sir,” he said aloud, “I’ll take him round;” and then the lieutenant, who had been interrupted in a nap, saluted the young chief; who salaamed to him gravely, and the two young men were left alone, gazing straight at one another, each apparently trying to read the other’s thoughts.“This is a jolly nice sort of a game,” said Bob to himself! “How am I to make him understand? What a jolly fool old Johnson is. Now, my sun-brown-o cockywax, comment vous portez-vous? as we say in French. Me no understandy curse Malay’s lingo not at all-oh. Bismillah! wallah! Come oh! and have a bottle oh! of Bass’s ale oh!”“With much pleasure,” said the young Malay, laughing. “I am thirsty.”Bob Roberts turned as red as a turkey-cock with vexation.“What! Can you understand English?” he stammered.“Rather!” was the reply. “I couldn’t make out all you said—not quite,” he added, laughing meaningly.“Oh! I say, I am sorry,” said Bob frankly. “I didn’t know you could understand a word.”“It’s all right,” said the young Malay, showing his white teeth, and speaking fair idiomatic English, though with a peculiar accent. “I’ve been a great deal at Penang and Singapore. I like English ways.”“I say, you know,” cried Bob, holding out his hand, “it was only my fun. I wouldn’t have chaffed you like that for a moment if I had thought you could understand.”“No, I suppose not,” said the young Malay. “Never mind, I wanted to see you. That’s why I came. Where’s the young soldier?”“What Tom—I mean Ensign Long?”“Yes, En-sign Long.”“Knocked up. Ill with his wound. He got hurt up the river.”“I did not know it was he,” said the young Malay. “Poor fellow!”“He was in an awful state,” said Bob. “Got a kris through his shoulder, and thought it was poisoned.”“What, the kris? Oh, no. That is nonsense. Our people don’t poison their krises and limbings. The Sakais poison their arrows.”“The whiches?” said Bob.“The Sakais—the wild people of the hills and jungle. Naked—wear no clothes.”“Yes,” said Bob drily. “I knew naked meant wearing no clothes. So you Malay folks are not savages, but have got savages somewhere near.”“Savages? wild people,” said the young man, with a little flush appearing through his tawny skin. “The Malay chiefs are gentlemen. We only are simple in our ways and living.”“Oh! that’s it, is it?” said Bob. “Well, come and have this drop of Bass. I can’t stand fizz.”“Fizz?” said the visitor; “what is fizz?”“Champagne.”“Oh, yes! I know; frothing, bubbling wine, with a pop cork.”“Yes, that’s it,” said Bob, grinning, “with a pop cork;” and leading the way below, he got a bottle of Bass and a couple of glasses, which they sat down and discussed.“Have a cigar?” said the young Malay, producing a handsome French-made case.“Thanky,” said Bob. “What are these? Manillas?”“No; from Deli, in Sumatra,” said his visitor. And then they lit-up by the open window of the gun-room, and sat and smoked for a few minutes in silence, each watching the other.“I say,” said Bob at last, “this is jolly rum, you know. Why you are quite an Englishman, young fellow.”“I like English ways,” said the young chief, flushing; “some of them. If I were sultan, I’d take to all the best English customs, and make them take the place of all our bad ones. Then we should be great.”“Yes,” said Bob; “I suppose so.”“Ah,” said the young man, sadly, “you laugh. But I could improve our people.”“Yes, of course,” said Bob, hastily. “Now come and see round the ship.”“No, no, let us sit and talk,” said the young Malay. “I have seen plenty of ships. I know all about them.”“Just as you like,” said Bob. “Then let’s go and sit on deck, under the awning. It’s awfully hot here.”“You think it hot?”“Yes; don’t you?” said Bob.“No, not at all,” said the young Malay, smiling; and rising he followed the middy on deck.“That’s better,” said Bob; “sit down in that cane chair. I say, what’s your name?”“Ah; what is yours?”“Robert Roberts; commonly known to my intimates as Bob.”“Intimates? what are intimates?”“Best friends,” said Bob.“Yes, I understand. May I be an intimate?”“To be sure you may,” said Bob, holding out his hand, which the other eagerly grasped. “But no larks, you know.”“Larks! what is larks?” said Ali, eagerly.“I mean, no sticking that kris of yours into a fellow on the sly.”“Nonsense! What bosh!” cried the young Malay.“Bosh, eh?” said Bob, laughing. “I say, Master Ali, you are civilised, and no mistake. It is only our very educated people who sayBosh!”“You took the word from us,” said the young Malay. “Bosh is good eastern language, and meansnothing.”“I’ve heard it was Turkish,” said Bob, drily.“Well, Turkish; the language of Roum. We look upon the Sultan of Roum and Stamboul as our greatest chief.”“Oh, I say,” cried Bob; “I can’t stand this, you know. I thought you were a young Malay chief, and you are talking like a professor. Look here, Ali, is there any good fishing here?”“Yes, oh yes. I’ll take you in my boat, and my men shall catch plenty.”“No, no,” said Bob. “You take me in the boat, and I’ll catch the fish. But is there any shooting?”“Shooting!” said the young Malay, laughing; “everything; bird that flies, bird that swims, tigers, buffalo, deer.”“Where?” cried Bob, excitedly.“In the great forest—the jungle. Will you come?”“Will I come?” cried Bob. “Won’t I! I say,” he went on, excitedly, “you can’t shoot, can you?”“I practise sometimes,” said the young Malay, quietly.“What with? A blow-pipe?”“Yes, I can use the sumpitan,” said the young Malay, nodding; “but I use a revolver or a rifle.”“I believe I’m half asleep,” muttered Bob. “Haven’t got a gun, have you?”“Yes; an English gentleman changed with me. I gave him ivory and gold, and he gave me his double gun.”“Not a breechloader?” said Bob.“Yes, a breechloader—a Purdey he called it, and a bag of cartridges.”“Oh, I say,” cried Bob; “this is rich, you know. I am sorry I was such an idiot with you at first. But do you mean it? If I get a day ashore, will you take me where there’s some good shooting?”“Oh, yes, plenty;” was the reply.Bob Roberts was thoughtful for a few moments.“I say,” he said at last, “I wish Tom Long were here.”“En-sign Long?” said Ali.“Yes. He’s a very cocky fellow, you know; but he’s a good one at bottom.”“Should I like him?”“Yes, when you got to know him; but he only shows some fellows his clothes.”“I don’t want to see his clothes,” said Ali, smiling.“I mean, some people never get to know what’s inside him,” said Bob.“What is ‘inside him’?” said Ali, whom these mysteries of the English tongue somewhat puzzled. “Do you mean what he has had to eat?”“No, no;” said Bob, laughing. “I mean his heart.”“Show people his heart?” said Ali, thoughtfully. “Oh yes, I see; I understand. You mean he is cold outside, and proud, and does not show people what he really thinks—like a Malay?”“Yes, that’s what I mean,” said Bob, smiling. “But that’s like a Malay, is it? They say one thing, and mean another, do they?”“Yes,” said Ali, gravely—“to their enemies—to the people who try to cheat, and deceive them. To their real friends they are very true, and full of faith. But it is time now that I should go.”“I say, though, stop a minute,” said Bob sharply. “Are your people really good friends to us?”“Yes,” said the visitor, “I hope so. I believe so. They are strange at first, and do not like English ways, like I. Afterwards they will do the same as I do. Good-bye.”“But about our shooting?” said Bob. “May I bring Tom Long?”“I should like to know En-sign Long. He is very brave, is he not?”“Pretty bobbish, I believe,” said the middy.“Is he bobbish, too, like you. Are you not Bob Bobbish?”“No, no, I’m Bob Roberts,” said the middy, laughing. “I mean, Tom Long is as brave as most fellows.”There was a short consultation then as to time and place of meeting; after which the young Malay passed over the side into his boat, rowed by four followers, and was quickly pulled ashore.
Bob Roberts seized his sword and dashed to the window, leaping boldly out, and shouting for help; and as he did so he heard the bushes rapidly parted, the crackling of twigs on ahead, and then, as he neared the river in pursuit of the assailant, there was a loud splash, followed by the challenge of a sentry and the report of his piece.
A brisk time of excitement followed, during which a thorough search was made, but no one was found; and it was evident that the spear had been thrown by an enemy who had come alone; but the incident was sufficient to create a general feeling of uneasiness at the residency. The sentries were doubled, and orders were given that the place should be carefully patrolled; for though the English were upon an island, the Malays were such expert swimmers that they could start up stream and let themselves float down to the head of the island and land.
It was some few days before Bob Roberts was able to pay another visit to the residency, for he had been out twice with the steamer’s boats, in search of the two escaped Malay prahus, each time on insufficient information; and after a weary pull through a winding mangrove creek, had come back without seeing them.
Meantime the relations with the Malays were daily growing in friendliness. A brisk trade with the shore was carried on, and sampans from far up the river came laden with fruit, fish, and rice; some brought poultry, and green sugar-cane for eating; others cocoa-nuts, and quaint articles for barter. But somehow there was an uneasy feeling on the island, that though the sultan and his people were friendly, some of the rajahs detested the English, as being likely to put a stop to their piratical practices, the destruction of Rajah Gantang’s stockade, while it gave plenty of satisfaction in some parts, being looked upon with disfavour in others.
“Pretty well all right again, old man?” said Bob, sauntering in one day, to find the ensign reading.
“Yes, I’m stronger by a good deal than I was,” said Tom Long, holding out his hand.
“No more limbings pitched in at the window, eh?”
“No,” said Tom Long with a slight shudder; “I hope that sort of thing is not going to happen again.”
“To which I say ditto,” said Bob. “But I say, I know who pitched that spear at you.”
“You do?”
“Yes, it was that Malay chap you offended with the durian.”
“Then he must be taken and punished.”
“First catch your brown hare, master officer of infantry,” said Bob, smiling. “He won’t set foot here again, depend upon it, unless he slinks in at night. By George, what a malicious lot they must be, to act like that!”
“Yes, it’s not pleasant,” said Tom Long, with an involuntary shudder, as, in imagination, he saw the dark face of his enemy always on the watch for an opportunity to assassinate him.
“I never finished my account of the trip to the sultan’s,” said Bob, at last.
“Was there anything more to tell?”
“Yes, one thing,” replied Bob; “the best of the whole lot.”
“What was it?”
“Don’t get riled if I tell you.”
“Pooh! how can it rile me?”
“Oh, I don’t know; only it may. It was a proposal made by the sultan to Mr Linton.”
“Proposal! What proposal?”
“Well, I’ll tell you; only don’t go into fits. It was after we’d been sitting smoking for a bit, and just before we were coming away. Master Sultan had shown us all his best things—his gold and silver, and his slaves, and the dingy beauties with great earrings, and bangles on their arms and legs, who have the honour of being his wives; and at last he said something to Mr Linton, who understands his lingo as well as you and I do French.”
“Well, but what did he propose?” said Long, eagerly.
“I got to know afterwards from Captain Smithers,” continued Bob, “that he said he had been thinking very seriously about his position in connexion with the English, and that he saw how a strong alliance would be best for all; that it would settle him in his government, and make it a very excellent match for the English, who would be able to get tin and rice from the sultan’s people, and gold.”
“You’re as prosy as an old woman,” said Tom Long, impatiently.
“Yes, it’s an accomplishment of mine,” said Bob coolly. “Well, as I was telling you, he said the proper thing was a very strong alliance; and the resident said we had already made one. He said he wanted a stronger one; and he thought the best thing would be for him to marry Miss Linton and her cousin, and then it would be all right.”
“Why, confound his insolence!” said Tom Long, starting up.
“No, no, you must say something else,” cried Bob. “I said that as soon as I heard it.”
“Did not Mr Linton knock him down?” cried Tom Long.
“No, he did not. He heard him out, and said it must be a matter of consideration; and then we came away.”
“But it’s monstrous!” cried Tom Long.
“Of course it is,” said Bob, coolly; “but don’t you see it was of no use to break with the fellow at once. It was a case of diplomacy. We don’t want to quarrel with Master Sultan Hamet: we want to keep friends.”
“But it was such an insult to the ladies!”
“He looked as if he thought he was doing them an honour, Master Long, so it wouldn’t have done to fall out with him. There, don’t look so fierce, we’ve got a difficult game to play here, and our great point is not to quarrel with the Malays, unless we want spears thrown in at every dark window while we stay.”
Tom Long sat biting his nails, for Bob had touched him in a very tender part, and he knew it. In fact, the middy rather enjoyed his companion’s vexation, for he had begun, since his memorable conversation with Miss Linton, to look upon his feelings towards her with a more matter-of-fact eye.
“I shall have to get about at once,” said Tom Long, speaking as if his weight in the scale would completely make Sultan Hamet kick the beam; but upon seeing the mirthful look in Bob Roberts’ eye, he changed the subject, and began talking about how he longed to be out and about again.
“I thought we should get no end of fishing and shooting out here,” he said, “and we’ve had none as yet.”
“Get well, then, and we’ll have a try for some,” Rob suggested. “There must be plenty;” and with the understanding that the ensign was to declare himself fit to be off the doctor’s hands as soon as possible, Bob Roberts returned to the steamer, and then finding it terribly close, he did what he had acquired a habit of doing when the weather was very hot, found a snug shady place on deck, and went off to sleep.
That was very easy in those latitudes. Whether the sun shone or whether it was gloomy, black, and precursive of a thunder-storm, an European had only to sit down in a rocking chair, or swing in a hammock, and he went off into a delicious slumber almost on the instant.
So far so good; the difficulty was to keep asleep; and so Bob Roberts found.
He had settled himself in a low basket-work chair, beneath a stout piece of awning which shed a mellow twilight upon the deck, and loosening his collar, he had dropped off at once; but hardly was he asleep before “burr-urr-urr boom-oom-oom, boozz-oozz-oozz” came a great fly, banging itself against the awning, sailing round and round, now up, now down, as if Bob’s head were the centre of its attraction, and he could not get farther away. Now it seemed to have made up its mind to beat itself to pieces against the canvas, and now to try how near it could go to the midshipman’s nose without touching, and keeping up all the time such an aggravating, irritating buzz that it woke Bob directly.
There was plenty of room for the ridiculous insect to have flown right out from beneath the awning and over the flashing river to the jungle; but no, that did not seem to suit its ideas, and it kept on with its monotonous buzz, round and round, and round and round.
Half awake, half asleep, Bob fidgeted a little, changed his position, and with his eyes shut hit out sharply at his tormentor, but of course without effect.
He turned over, turned back; laid his head on one side; then on the other; and at last, as the miserable buzzing noise continued, he jumped up in a rage, picked up a book for a weapon, and followed the fly about, trying to get a fair blow—but all in vain. He hit at it flying, settled on the canvas roof; on the arms of chairs, and on the deck, and twice upon a rope—but all in vain: the wretched insect kept up its irritating buzz, till, hot, panting, his brows throbbing with the exertion, Bob made a furious dash at it, and with one tremendous blow crushed it flat.
The middy drew a long breath, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and, panting and weary, threw himself back in the chair, and closed his eyes.
He was a clever sleeper, Bob Roberts. Like the Irishman who went to sleep for two or three days, when Bob went to sleep, he “paid attintion to it.” In a few seconds then he was fast, and—truth must be told—with his mouth open, and a very unpleasant noise arising therefrom.
Vain hope of rest. Even as he threw himself back, a little many-legged creature, about two inches long, was industriously making its way over the deck towards where one of the middy’s limbs lay outstretched, and in a few seconds it had mounted his shoe, examined it with a pair of long thin antenna, and then given the leather a pinch with a pair of hooked claws at its tail.
Apparently dissatisfied, the long thin yellow insect ran on to the sleeper’s sock, carefully examined its texture, tasted it with its tail, and still not satisfied, proceeded to walk up one of the very wide open duck trouser legs, that must have been to it like the entrance to some grand tunnel, temptingly inviting investigation.
The insect disappeared; Bob snored, and there was the loud buzzing murmur of men’s voices, talking drowsily together, when, as if suddenly electrified, Bob leaped up with a sharp cry, slapped his leg vigorously, and stood shaking his trousers till the long thin insect tumbled on to the white deck, and was duly crushed.
“Scissors! how it stings!” cried Bob, rubbing the place. “O Lor’! what a place this is to be sure. Who the dickens can get a nod?”
Bob Roberts was determined upon having one evidently, for having given the obnoxious remains another stamp, he took a look round, to see if any other pest, winged or legged, had been brought from the shore, and seeing nothing, he again settled himself down, gave a turn or two and a twist to get himself comfortable, ending by sitting with his legs stretched straight out, his head thrown back, and his nose pointed straight up at the awning.
This time Bob went off fast asleep; his cap fell on to the deck, but it did not disturb him; and he was evidently making up for lost time, when a very industrious spider, who had made his home in the awning, came boldly out of a fold by a seam of the canvas, and with busy legs proceeded to examine the state and tension of some threads, which it had previously stretched as the basis of a web upon a geometrical plan, expressly to catch mosquitoes.
Apparently satisfied, the spider set to work busily, its dark, heavy body showing plainly against the yellowish canvas; and in a very short time a main rope was attached to the roof, and the architect of fly-nets began slowly to descend in search of a point to which the other end of the said main-stay could be attacked.
Now fate had so arranged it, that the point exactly beneath the spider as it slowly descended was the tip of Bob Roberts’ nose, and to this point in the course of a minute the insect nearly arrived.
It may be thought that its next act would be to alight and fix its rope; but this was not so easy, for the soft zephyr-like breaths the middy exhaled drove the swinging architect to and fro. Now it came near, now it was driven away; but at last it got near enough to grasp at the sleeper’s most prominent feature, just brushing it with its legs, and setting up an irritating tickling that made Bob snort and scratch his face.
The spider swung to and fro for some seconds, and then there was another terrible tickle, to which Bob responded by fiercely rubbing the offending organ.
The spider was driven to a distance by this; but it was back again directly, with its legs stretched out, tickling as before.
Bob was not asleep, and he was not awake, and he could neither sink into oblivion, nor thoroughly rouse himself. All he could do was to bestow an irritable scratch at his nose, and the spider came back again.
At last, spider or no spider, he dropped into a strange dreamy state, in which he believed that Tom Long came and loomed over him on purpose to bend down and tickle him, out of spite and jealousy, with the long thin feather from a paroquet’s tail.
“Don’t! Bother!” said Bob, in his sleep; but the tickling went on, and he felt ready to leap up and strike his tormentor; but he seemed to be held down by some strange power which kept him from moving, and the tickling still went on.
Then he could hear voices talking, and people seemed to be about, laughing at and enjoying the trick that was being played upon him; and then he started into wakefulness, for a voice exclaimed,—
“Come, Mr Roberts, are you going to wake up?”
It was Lieutenant Johnson who spoke; and on the middy jumping up, he found standing by him, with the lieutenant, the dark-faced youth who had met them and acted as guide on the occasion when they made their first visit to the sultan’s home.
He was dressed similarly to the way in which he made his first appearance before the English party; that is to say, he wore the silken jacket and sarong of the Malay chiefs, with a natty little embroidered cap, set jauntily upon his head like that of a cavalry soldier; but in addition he wore the trousers, white shirt-front, and patent leather boots of an Englishman, and the middy saw that he had a gold albert chain and straw-coloured kid gloves.
“This gentleman is the son of the Tumongong of Parang, Mr Roberts,” said the lieutenant, “and he has come on board to see the ship. Take him round and show him everything, especially the armoury, and let him understand the power of the guns. Captain Horton wishes it.”
The lieutenant looked meaningly at the middy, who saluted, and then nodded his head in a way that showed he comprehended his task.
“The skipper wants these people to know that it is of no good to try and tackle us,” thought Bob. “Yes, sir,” he said aloud, “I’ll take him round;” and then the lieutenant, who had been interrupted in a nap, saluted the young chief; who salaamed to him gravely, and the two young men were left alone, gazing straight at one another, each apparently trying to read the other’s thoughts.
“This is a jolly nice sort of a game,” said Bob to himself! “How am I to make him understand? What a jolly fool old Johnson is. Now, my sun-brown-o cockywax, comment vous portez-vous? as we say in French. Me no understandy curse Malay’s lingo not at all-oh. Bismillah! wallah! Come oh! and have a bottle oh! of Bass’s ale oh!”
“With much pleasure,” said the young Malay, laughing. “I am thirsty.”
Bob Roberts turned as red as a turkey-cock with vexation.
“What! Can you understand English?” he stammered.
“Rather!” was the reply. “I couldn’t make out all you said—not quite,” he added, laughing meaningly.
“Oh! I say, I am sorry,” said Bob frankly. “I didn’t know you could understand a word.”
“It’s all right,” said the young Malay, showing his white teeth, and speaking fair idiomatic English, though with a peculiar accent. “I’ve been a great deal at Penang and Singapore. I like English ways.”
“I say, you know,” cried Bob, holding out his hand, “it was only my fun. I wouldn’t have chaffed you like that for a moment if I had thought you could understand.”
“No, I suppose not,” said the young Malay. “Never mind, I wanted to see you. That’s why I came. Where’s the young soldier?”
“What Tom—I mean Ensign Long?”
“Yes, En-sign Long.”
“Knocked up. Ill with his wound. He got hurt up the river.”
“I did not know it was he,” said the young Malay. “Poor fellow!”
“He was in an awful state,” said Bob. “Got a kris through his shoulder, and thought it was poisoned.”
“What, the kris? Oh, no. That is nonsense. Our people don’t poison their krises and limbings. The Sakais poison their arrows.”
“The whiches?” said Bob.
“The Sakais—the wild people of the hills and jungle. Naked—wear no clothes.”
“Yes,” said Bob drily. “I knew naked meant wearing no clothes. So you Malay folks are not savages, but have got savages somewhere near.”
“Savages? wild people,” said the young man, with a little flush appearing through his tawny skin. “The Malay chiefs are gentlemen. We only are simple in our ways and living.”
“Oh! that’s it, is it?” said Bob. “Well, come and have this drop of Bass. I can’t stand fizz.”
“Fizz?” said the visitor; “what is fizz?”
“Champagne.”
“Oh, yes! I know; frothing, bubbling wine, with a pop cork.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Bob, grinning, “with a pop cork;” and leading the way below, he got a bottle of Bass and a couple of glasses, which they sat down and discussed.
“Have a cigar?” said the young Malay, producing a handsome French-made case.
“Thanky,” said Bob. “What are these? Manillas?”
“No; from Deli, in Sumatra,” said his visitor. And then they lit-up by the open window of the gun-room, and sat and smoked for a few minutes in silence, each watching the other.
“I say,” said Bob at last, “this is jolly rum, you know. Why you are quite an Englishman, young fellow.”
“I like English ways,” said the young chief, flushing; “some of them. If I were sultan, I’d take to all the best English customs, and make them take the place of all our bad ones. Then we should be great.”
“Yes,” said Bob; “I suppose so.”
“Ah,” said the young man, sadly, “you laugh. But I could improve our people.”
“Yes, of course,” said Bob, hastily. “Now come and see round the ship.”
“No, no, let us sit and talk,” said the young Malay. “I have seen plenty of ships. I know all about them.”
“Just as you like,” said Bob. “Then let’s go and sit on deck, under the awning. It’s awfully hot here.”
“You think it hot?”
“Yes; don’t you?” said Bob.
“No, not at all,” said the young Malay, smiling; and rising he followed the middy on deck.
“That’s better,” said Bob; “sit down in that cane chair. I say, what’s your name?”
“Ah; what is yours?”
“Robert Roberts; commonly known to my intimates as Bob.”
“Intimates? what are intimates?”
“Best friends,” said Bob.
“Yes, I understand. May I be an intimate?”
“To be sure you may,” said Bob, holding out his hand, which the other eagerly grasped. “But no larks, you know.”
“Larks! what is larks?” said Ali, eagerly.
“I mean, no sticking that kris of yours into a fellow on the sly.”
“Nonsense! What bosh!” cried the young Malay.
“Bosh, eh?” said Bob, laughing. “I say, Master Ali, you are civilised, and no mistake. It is only our very educated people who sayBosh!”
“You took the word from us,” said the young Malay. “Bosh is good eastern language, and meansnothing.”
“I’ve heard it was Turkish,” said Bob, drily.
“Well, Turkish; the language of Roum. We look upon the Sultan of Roum and Stamboul as our greatest chief.”
“Oh, I say,” cried Bob; “I can’t stand this, you know. I thought you were a young Malay chief, and you are talking like a professor. Look here, Ali, is there any good fishing here?”
“Yes, oh yes. I’ll take you in my boat, and my men shall catch plenty.”
“No, no,” said Bob. “You take me in the boat, and I’ll catch the fish. But is there any shooting?”
“Shooting!” said the young Malay, laughing; “everything; bird that flies, bird that swims, tigers, buffalo, deer.”
“Where?” cried Bob, excitedly.
“In the great forest—the jungle. Will you come?”
“Will I come?” cried Bob. “Won’t I! I say,” he went on, excitedly, “you can’t shoot, can you?”
“I practise sometimes,” said the young Malay, quietly.
“What with? A blow-pipe?”
“Yes, I can use the sumpitan,” said the young Malay, nodding; “but I use a revolver or a rifle.”
“I believe I’m half asleep,” muttered Bob. “Haven’t got a gun, have you?”
“Yes; an English gentleman changed with me. I gave him ivory and gold, and he gave me his double gun.”
“Not a breechloader?” said Bob.
“Yes, a breechloader—a Purdey he called it, and a bag of cartridges.”
“Oh, I say,” cried Bob; “this is rich, you know. I am sorry I was such an idiot with you at first. But do you mean it? If I get a day ashore, will you take me where there’s some good shooting?”
“Oh, yes, plenty;” was the reply.
Bob Roberts was thoughtful for a few moments.
“I say,” he said at last, “I wish Tom Long were here.”
“En-sign Long?” said Ali.
“Yes. He’s a very cocky fellow, you know; but he’s a good one at bottom.”
“Should I like him?”
“Yes, when you got to know him; but he only shows some fellows his clothes.”
“I don’t want to see his clothes,” said Ali, smiling.
“I mean, some people never get to know what’s inside him,” said Bob.
“What is ‘inside him’?” said Ali, whom these mysteries of the English tongue somewhat puzzled. “Do you mean what he has had to eat?”
“No, no;” said Bob, laughing. “I mean his heart.”
“Show people his heart?” said Ali, thoughtfully. “Oh yes, I see; I understand. You mean he is cold outside, and proud, and does not show people what he really thinks—like a Malay?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean,” said Bob, smiling. “But that’s like a Malay, is it? They say one thing, and mean another, do they?”
“Yes,” said Ali, gravely—“to their enemies—to the people who try to cheat, and deceive them. To their real friends they are very true, and full of faith. But it is time now that I should go.”
“I say, though, stop a minute,” said Bob sharply. “Are your people really good friends to us?”
“Yes,” said the visitor, “I hope so. I believe so. They are strange at first, and do not like English ways, like I. Afterwards they will do the same as I do. Good-bye.”
“But about our shooting?” said Bob. “May I bring Tom Long?”
“I should like to know En-sign Long. He is very brave, is he not?”
“Pretty bobbish, I believe,” said the middy.
“Is he bobbish, too, like you. Are you not Bob Bobbish?”
“No, no, I’m Bob Roberts,” said the middy, laughing. “I mean, Tom Long is as brave as most fellows.”
There was a short consultation then as to time and place of meeting; after which the young Malay passed over the side into his boat, rowed by four followers, and was quickly pulled ashore.
Chapter Fifteen.How the Sultan was put off with Words.There was a good deal of communication now between the sultan and the resident, and rumours began flying about that the former proposed paying a visit to the residency; but the days glided by, and it did not take place. The men who had been wounded were rapidly recovering; and after several attempts to find the missing prahus, it was announced one evening, in a quiet way, that there was to be another expedition down the river, for information had been brought in by a Malay boatman, who had been employed to act as a scout, that the two vessels were lying-up in a creek on the left bank of the river. It would therefore be quite easy for the steamer to float down stream off where they lay, and either send in boats to the attack or to shatter them by sweeping the mangroves with the steamer’s great guns, for the prahus lay behind a thick grove of these trees some twenty or thirty yards across, quite sufficient for a screen, but worse than useless as a protection if the heavy guns were once brought to bear.Messages had come again and again from the sultan, urging that the power of the rajah should be thoroughly crushed; in fact, his requests almost took the tone of a command.There was a disposition to resent this, but it was felt better to temporise, and word was sent to the sultan by a trusty messenger that something would be done.The result of this was another visit from the leading chiefs, who rather startled the resident by the message they brought, which was to the effect that their master thought it would be better that his marriage to the two Englishwomen should take place at once; and what did Mr Linton think of the next day?Mr Linton thought, but he did not tell the sultan’s ambassadors so, that he would consult Major Sandars and Captain Horton; and this he did while the messengers waited.Major Sandars blew his nose very loudly, and said he should like to kick the villain.Captain Horton said that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to have this Mr Hamet tied up and to give him six dozen.“This is all very well, gentlemen,” said Mr Linton, smiling; “but it does not help me out of my difficulty. What am I to say so as not to offend this man?”“Oh, you must offend him,” said the major. “I can see nothing for it, but to send him word that the English ladies are greatly honoured by the sultan’s proposal, but that they cannot accept it.”Captain Horton nodded approval, and the resident agreed that they could do nothing better; so the message was delivered to the sultan’s ambassadors, who looked exceedingly depressed upon hearing it, and as if they would have gladly exchanged places with somebody else.“Those fellows expect to get into trouble,” said the major, as he noticed the change.He was quite right, for the two chiefs took their departure, looking as if they expected to be introduced by their wrathful ruler to the execution kris as soon as they returned.The troops had been expecting orders for a trip down the river in search of the two prahus, but the command came upon them, as such matters usually do, just when it was least expected. One company, under Captain Smithers, was ordered to embark, but to Tom Long’s great disgust, he found he was not included.He hurried to the doctor’s quarters, and found that gentleman busy with a case of instruments, open before him.“Look here, Long,” he said; “did you ever see such a wretched country as this? Everything rusts; look at my instruments.”“Yes, sir, it is terrible; such fine steel too.”“Fine steel? There isn’t a better case in the army. I could do anything with these tools.”Tom Long shuddered as he glanced at the long, fearfully keen knives, and the saw—so horribly suggestive of taking off arms and legs.Doctor Bolter saw it, and smiled to himself.“Come to say good-bye, Long?” he said, as he stuffed some lint into a pouch, with some bandages. “I’m not a lighting man, and don’t mean to be killed.”“No, sir. I came to ask you to let me go—to give me a certificate, saying I am quite well enough.”“But you are not, my dear boy. You are too weak.”“Weak, sir? No, I feel as strong as a lion. Let me go, doctor.”“What nonsense, my dear lad! I’m not the commandant. Ask the major.”“No, sir,” said Tom Long. “You are not the commandant by name, but from the major downwards you do just as you like with us. Hang me if I’d have drunk such filthy stuff as you gave me, by the major’s orders. I’d sooner have lost my commission.”“Ha, ha, ha!—Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the doctor. “That’s very good, Long, very good indeed. I suppose I do get the better of all of you in turn. Ha, ha, ha! But look here, my dear boy, I don’t think you are well enough yet.”“Do let me go, doctor,” pleaded Tom. “There, I don’t want tofight, but let me go with you and help you. This dreadful do-nothing sort of life seems to make me worse.”“Idleness is bad for any man,” said the doctor.Tom Long felt flattered at being called a man, but still looked pleadingly at the doctor.“I could take care of your instruments, sir, and hand you what you wanted if there were any of our fellows hurt.”“Humph! yes, you could do that,” said the doctor. “But look here,” he said, gazing searchingly into the youth’s face; “did you take your medicine to-day?”“Yes, sir, three times,” cried Tom, eagerly; for, after neglecting it for two days previously, he had taken it that day by way of a salve to his conscience.“Then you shall go,” said the doctor. “Be quick. Get your great-coat—and mind, you are to be my assistant.”Tom Long ran back to his quarters, and doctor’s assistant or no, he buckled on his sword, and stuck his revolver in its case, before putting on his grey great-coat; meeting the detachment on its way down to the boat.“Hallo, Long, what are you doing here?” said Captain Smithers. “You are not detailed for duty.”“No,” said the doctor, sharply, “he is coming on hospital service.”There was no time for argument, so they marched on down to the “Startler’s” boats, which were waiting, and at once put off silently, the swift stream bearing them quickly to the steamer’s side, as she lay there with her steam up, but not a light visible to tell those upon the shore of the projected expedition. There was the low dull hiss and snort of the escaping steam; and one versed in such matters would have noticed that the steamer had let go her moorings at the stem, and swung round in the stream, holding on hard by the stern, ready to slip the cable and start.But Captain Horton felt pretty secure of getting away unobserved; and trusting to the keen eyes of a couple of Malay boatmen, he calculated upon getting the steamer just abreast of the mangrove creek where the prahus lay, and then dealing with them and their crews as he pleased.The distance down was about ten miles; and the stream was so swift, that in a couple of hours the steamer would have run down without the aid of her screw; but it was proposed to steam for about two-thirds of the distance, and then drift in silence, with a turn of the screw now and then to keep her head right.The river was so deep, and clear of obstruction, that there was nothing to fear in their journey down, while fortunately the night, though not illuminated by the moon, was tolerably light.The arrangements were soon made, and directly the boats were hoisted up the cable was slipped from the great buoy, and the steamer drifted down stream, the steam power being kept in abeyance until they were some distance below the campong.In his character of doctor’s assistant, Tom Long did not mix with the officers in command of the little detachment, and was standing aloof leaning over the bulwarks, and gazing at the fire-flies on the shore, when he heard a familiar voice close by.“Think those Malay chaps will be able to see the creek on a night like this, Dick?”“See it, Master Roberts, sir? Why, I could see it myself if I tried, and knowed where to look for it. Bless yer ’art, they Malay chaps have got eyes like cats, and can see in the dark.”“Oh yes, I dare say,” said Bob. “Well, all I can say is, I hope we shall knock the prahus into splinters. I do owe those fellows a grudge for being chucked overboard as I was. It makes me feel wet now to think of it.”“Yes, that ’ere war a rum ’un, Master Roberts, sir,” said Dick, solemnly. “Now, look here, sir, you being a boy like, and not wanted, if I was you, I’d just go down below, get on my perch, and tuck myself up and go to roost where I should be quite safe.”“Thank you, Dick,” said Bob, quietly; “I’m going to stop on deck, and then go with the party ashore. We’ll leave the old men and old women on board to take charge of the ship till we come back.”“That’s as good as saying I’m a reg’lar old woman, Master Roberts, sir,” said Dick, grinning.Bob did not condescend to reply, but walked aft a little way, to where he could see a dark figure half-leaning, half-sitting in the darkness upon a gun, and looking over the bulwarks.“Here, you sir,” he said sharply, “come away from that gun. Why are you not with the detachment forward there?”“Oh, you be hanged!” said a familiar voice.“What? Tom Long?”“That’s my name, Mr Roberts,” said the dark figure.“Why, I thought you were in hospital yet.”“I’m on hospital service,” replied Tom. “I got the doctor to bring me.”“I say—I am glad,” said Bob. “Eh?”He stopped short, for Tom Long had pinched his arm.“Isn’t that a long low vessel moored there under the bank?” said Tom.Bob looked long and attentively.“I think so—two of them,” he said. “I’ll tell the officer of the watch.”He turned aft and pointed out the dimly seen objects.“Yes, I think they are prahus moored to the trees,” he said, examining them through the glass.The officer reported what he had seen to the captain, who also inspected them through a night-glass.“Yes, coasting boats, I think. We’ll overhaul them as we come back, we must not stop now.”The vessel was now steaming steadily down stream, not quickly, for there were too many turns, but sufficiently fast to bring them rapidly near their goal.“Let’s see; I want to have a talk to you, Tom Long, about a trip ashore—shooting,” said Bob.“Silence there, young gentleman,” said the officer of the watch sternly, and then Bob was called suddenly away, so that he had no opportunity for a quiet chat with the young ensign.Meanwhile the heavy throb throb of the steamer was the only noise heard save some weird cry of animal or bird in the dense jungle on either side. But every now and then as the waves and wash of the steamer rolled ashore, churning up the mud, they startled the dull, heavy alligators into activity, sending them scurrying off the muddy banks into deep water, to await the passing of the, to them, large water monster, whose great bulk dwarfed them into insignificance the most extreme.Lower and lower down stream went the steamer with the dense black line of jungle on either side, till at the suggestion of the Malay pilots the steam was turned off, a couple of boats lowered, and the position of the vessel being reversed, she was allowed to float down head to stream, for quite another half-hour, when the word having been given, a small anchor that had been hanging down in the water was let go, without so much as a plash, the stout hemp cable ran quietly out, and the vessel was checked just off the narrow mouth of a creek, which seemed to run up amidst the palms and undergrowth, for there were no mangroves till the tidal waters were reached.There was a little rapid passing to and fro here, and a couple of boats were silently lowered down, to go a quarter of a mile below to watch the other entrance to the creek, for the Malays were too fox-like not to have a hole for exit as well as one for entry. But everything was done in the most noiseless manner, so that when three more boats full of soldiers, marines, and sailors rowed off for the creek, no one would have imagined that they had slipped off on a deadly errand, or that the steamer was cleared for action, the guns shotted and every man ready to let loose a deadly hail that should cut down the jungle like a scythe amidst the corn.But the British officers had yet to learn that the Malays were more than their equals in cunning. No sooner had the steamer passed on into the bank of mist and darkness that overhung the river, than there was a rustle, a splash, the rattling noise of large oars being thrust out, and in a couple of minutes the two long snaky prahus they had passed crammed with fighting men were gliding up stream towards the residency, where certainly there were sentries on guard, but no dread of an enemy at hand.The boats then had pushed off from the steamer, which lay ready to help them, and rowing out of the swift waters of the river they began to ascend the dark and muddy creek, when Bob Roberts, who was with the lieutenant and part of the soldiers in the same boat suddenly whispered—“Hark! wasn’t that distant firing?”They listened, but could hear nothing, and the lieutenant was about to order the men to pull more sharply, when Bob touched his arm again.“I’m sure that’s firing, sir,” he said.“Nonsense, Roberts! absurd! Sit still and be silent. What firing could it be? We are ten miles from the residency.”“I can’t help it, sir, if we are twenty,” said Bob, sharply. “I’m sure it was firing, and there it goes again.”“Silence, sir,” said the lieutenant, angrily. “Give way, my lads, give way.”The ship’s boats glided on over the smooth water, the men rowing with muffled oars; and so steadily that the blades seemed to be dipping in without making a splash.The creek grew narrower, so that they had to keep right in the middle to avoid letting the oar blades brush the reeds, and so they rowed on, but without seeing anything resembling a prahu.As to their direction, that they could not tell, but the shape of the creek they believed to be that of a bow—at least so the Malays had described it; and as the two ends of the bow must rest upon the river, they were sure, unless they struck up some narrow tortuous way, to come out at the other mouth and join the boats.They went on very cautiously, with the midshipman anxious to talk to Tom Long, who sat beside him, but forbidden now to utter so much as a whisper. The oars dipped and rose, dipped and rose, without a sound, and sometimes a reed or water plant rustled slightly as it brushed the sides of the boats.That in which the lieutenant was in command led the weird procession, Captain Smithers being in the next, while the third, nearly full of marines, every man with his loaded rifle between his knees, was close behind.Still there was no sign of the prahus, and to the lieutenant’s great annoyance, he found that in the darkness they must have turned up the sluggish stream that flowed into the creek, and missed the continuation, which was probably masked with reeds.He felt ready to stamp with vexation, but controlling himself he passed the word, and the boats backed down the stream, that in which the officer in command was seated naturally being the last of the three.“Wouldn’t it have been better to have brought the Malays, sir?” said Bob.“Yes, of course; but the cowards were afraid to come, my good lad,” said the lieutenant.“There, sir,” whispered Bob again, “isn’t that firing?”“If you say another word to me about your confounded firing,” said the lieutenant sharply, “I’ll have you gagged, sir.”“I don’t want to talk about it, sir,” grumbled Bob, “but I’m sure there’s something wrong up yonder.”“And I’m sure there’s something wrong here, Mr Roberts,” said the lieutenant, “and that’s enough for me to attend to.”They went back in silence for some time, and then Tom Long, whose eyes were unusually good, pointed to a part of the reed-bed on the right.“Is not that the continuation of the creek, sir?”“Yes, to be sure, so it is,” said the lieutenant. “We can see it coming this way. It’s masked by those trees the other way. Steady, my lads; steady. Let us go first.”The creek was wider here, so the boats turned, and retook their former positions; but still there was no sign of the prahus.“Those scoundrels must have led us wrong,” muttered the lieutenant; “there’s nothing here. Why, yonder’s the open river, isn’t it; or is it a wider space? Yes, thank goodness; there are the prahus after all.”He waited till the other boats closed up, and then whispered his final orders, appointing two boats to attack one of the prahus while he made for the other alone.“Now then,” he whispered, “are you all ready? A bold dash, my lads, and they are ours.”“Please, sir,” said old Dick.“What is it?” cried the lieutenant, angrily.“Them’s our own two boats. I’d swear to ’em.”“And I’m sure that’sfiring,” cried Bob, aloud.“Yes,” said Tom Long, speaking excitedly; “those were the two prahus we passed on the way down.”“And they are attacking the residency,” cried Bob.Even as he spoke there was a shot fired from the steamer to recall the boats, and the men bent to their stout ashen oars with all their might, the lieutenant as he leaped on board being met by Captain Horton with—“These Malay tigers are a little too cunning for us, Johnson. Those were the prahus we passed on the way down.”“Yes, sir, another slip; but we may have them yet.”
There was a good deal of communication now between the sultan and the resident, and rumours began flying about that the former proposed paying a visit to the residency; but the days glided by, and it did not take place. The men who had been wounded were rapidly recovering; and after several attempts to find the missing prahus, it was announced one evening, in a quiet way, that there was to be another expedition down the river, for information had been brought in by a Malay boatman, who had been employed to act as a scout, that the two vessels were lying-up in a creek on the left bank of the river. It would therefore be quite easy for the steamer to float down stream off where they lay, and either send in boats to the attack or to shatter them by sweeping the mangroves with the steamer’s great guns, for the prahus lay behind a thick grove of these trees some twenty or thirty yards across, quite sufficient for a screen, but worse than useless as a protection if the heavy guns were once brought to bear.
Messages had come again and again from the sultan, urging that the power of the rajah should be thoroughly crushed; in fact, his requests almost took the tone of a command.
There was a disposition to resent this, but it was felt better to temporise, and word was sent to the sultan by a trusty messenger that something would be done.
The result of this was another visit from the leading chiefs, who rather startled the resident by the message they brought, which was to the effect that their master thought it would be better that his marriage to the two Englishwomen should take place at once; and what did Mr Linton think of the next day?
Mr Linton thought, but he did not tell the sultan’s ambassadors so, that he would consult Major Sandars and Captain Horton; and this he did while the messengers waited.
Major Sandars blew his nose very loudly, and said he should like to kick the villain.
Captain Horton said that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to have this Mr Hamet tied up and to give him six dozen.
“This is all very well, gentlemen,” said Mr Linton, smiling; “but it does not help me out of my difficulty. What am I to say so as not to offend this man?”
“Oh, you must offend him,” said the major. “I can see nothing for it, but to send him word that the English ladies are greatly honoured by the sultan’s proposal, but that they cannot accept it.”
Captain Horton nodded approval, and the resident agreed that they could do nothing better; so the message was delivered to the sultan’s ambassadors, who looked exceedingly depressed upon hearing it, and as if they would have gladly exchanged places with somebody else.
“Those fellows expect to get into trouble,” said the major, as he noticed the change.
He was quite right, for the two chiefs took their departure, looking as if they expected to be introduced by their wrathful ruler to the execution kris as soon as they returned.
The troops had been expecting orders for a trip down the river in search of the two prahus, but the command came upon them, as such matters usually do, just when it was least expected. One company, under Captain Smithers, was ordered to embark, but to Tom Long’s great disgust, he found he was not included.
He hurried to the doctor’s quarters, and found that gentleman busy with a case of instruments, open before him.
“Look here, Long,” he said; “did you ever see such a wretched country as this? Everything rusts; look at my instruments.”
“Yes, sir, it is terrible; such fine steel too.”
“Fine steel? There isn’t a better case in the army. I could do anything with these tools.”
Tom Long shuddered as he glanced at the long, fearfully keen knives, and the saw—so horribly suggestive of taking off arms and legs.
Doctor Bolter saw it, and smiled to himself.
“Come to say good-bye, Long?” he said, as he stuffed some lint into a pouch, with some bandages. “I’m not a lighting man, and don’t mean to be killed.”
“No, sir. I came to ask you to let me go—to give me a certificate, saying I am quite well enough.”
“But you are not, my dear boy. You are too weak.”
“Weak, sir? No, I feel as strong as a lion. Let me go, doctor.”
“What nonsense, my dear lad! I’m not the commandant. Ask the major.”
“No, sir,” said Tom Long. “You are not the commandant by name, but from the major downwards you do just as you like with us. Hang me if I’d have drunk such filthy stuff as you gave me, by the major’s orders. I’d sooner have lost my commission.”
“Ha, ha, ha!—Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the doctor. “That’s very good, Long, very good indeed. I suppose I do get the better of all of you in turn. Ha, ha, ha! But look here, my dear boy, I don’t think you are well enough yet.”
“Do let me go, doctor,” pleaded Tom. “There, I don’t want tofight, but let me go with you and help you. This dreadful do-nothing sort of life seems to make me worse.”
“Idleness is bad for any man,” said the doctor.
Tom Long felt flattered at being called a man, but still looked pleadingly at the doctor.
“I could take care of your instruments, sir, and hand you what you wanted if there were any of our fellows hurt.”
“Humph! yes, you could do that,” said the doctor. “But look here,” he said, gazing searchingly into the youth’s face; “did you take your medicine to-day?”
“Yes, sir, three times,” cried Tom, eagerly; for, after neglecting it for two days previously, he had taken it that day by way of a salve to his conscience.
“Then you shall go,” said the doctor. “Be quick. Get your great-coat—and mind, you are to be my assistant.”
Tom Long ran back to his quarters, and doctor’s assistant or no, he buckled on his sword, and stuck his revolver in its case, before putting on his grey great-coat; meeting the detachment on its way down to the boat.
“Hallo, Long, what are you doing here?” said Captain Smithers. “You are not detailed for duty.”
“No,” said the doctor, sharply, “he is coming on hospital service.”
There was no time for argument, so they marched on down to the “Startler’s” boats, which were waiting, and at once put off silently, the swift stream bearing them quickly to the steamer’s side, as she lay there with her steam up, but not a light visible to tell those upon the shore of the projected expedition. There was the low dull hiss and snort of the escaping steam; and one versed in such matters would have noticed that the steamer had let go her moorings at the stem, and swung round in the stream, holding on hard by the stern, ready to slip the cable and start.
But Captain Horton felt pretty secure of getting away unobserved; and trusting to the keen eyes of a couple of Malay boatmen, he calculated upon getting the steamer just abreast of the mangrove creek where the prahus lay, and then dealing with them and their crews as he pleased.
The distance down was about ten miles; and the stream was so swift, that in a couple of hours the steamer would have run down without the aid of her screw; but it was proposed to steam for about two-thirds of the distance, and then drift in silence, with a turn of the screw now and then to keep her head right.
The river was so deep, and clear of obstruction, that there was nothing to fear in their journey down, while fortunately the night, though not illuminated by the moon, was tolerably light.
The arrangements were soon made, and directly the boats were hoisted up the cable was slipped from the great buoy, and the steamer drifted down stream, the steam power being kept in abeyance until they were some distance below the campong.
In his character of doctor’s assistant, Tom Long did not mix with the officers in command of the little detachment, and was standing aloof leaning over the bulwarks, and gazing at the fire-flies on the shore, when he heard a familiar voice close by.
“Think those Malay chaps will be able to see the creek on a night like this, Dick?”
“See it, Master Roberts, sir? Why, I could see it myself if I tried, and knowed where to look for it. Bless yer ’art, they Malay chaps have got eyes like cats, and can see in the dark.”
“Oh yes, I dare say,” said Bob. “Well, all I can say is, I hope we shall knock the prahus into splinters. I do owe those fellows a grudge for being chucked overboard as I was. It makes me feel wet now to think of it.”
“Yes, that ’ere war a rum ’un, Master Roberts, sir,” said Dick, solemnly. “Now, look here, sir, you being a boy like, and not wanted, if I was you, I’d just go down below, get on my perch, and tuck myself up and go to roost where I should be quite safe.”
“Thank you, Dick,” said Bob, quietly; “I’m going to stop on deck, and then go with the party ashore. We’ll leave the old men and old women on board to take charge of the ship till we come back.”
“That’s as good as saying I’m a reg’lar old woman, Master Roberts, sir,” said Dick, grinning.
Bob did not condescend to reply, but walked aft a little way, to where he could see a dark figure half-leaning, half-sitting in the darkness upon a gun, and looking over the bulwarks.
“Here, you sir,” he said sharply, “come away from that gun. Why are you not with the detachment forward there?”
“Oh, you be hanged!” said a familiar voice.
“What? Tom Long?”
“That’s my name, Mr Roberts,” said the dark figure.
“Why, I thought you were in hospital yet.”
“I’m on hospital service,” replied Tom. “I got the doctor to bring me.”
“I say—I am glad,” said Bob. “Eh?”
He stopped short, for Tom Long had pinched his arm.
“Isn’t that a long low vessel moored there under the bank?” said Tom.
Bob looked long and attentively.
“I think so—two of them,” he said. “I’ll tell the officer of the watch.”
He turned aft and pointed out the dimly seen objects.
“Yes, I think they are prahus moored to the trees,” he said, examining them through the glass.
The officer reported what he had seen to the captain, who also inspected them through a night-glass.
“Yes, coasting boats, I think. We’ll overhaul them as we come back, we must not stop now.”
The vessel was now steaming steadily down stream, not quickly, for there were too many turns, but sufficiently fast to bring them rapidly near their goal.
“Let’s see; I want to have a talk to you, Tom Long, about a trip ashore—shooting,” said Bob.
“Silence there, young gentleman,” said the officer of the watch sternly, and then Bob was called suddenly away, so that he had no opportunity for a quiet chat with the young ensign.
Meanwhile the heavy throb throb of the steamer was the only noise heard save some weird cry of animal or bird in the dense jungle on either side. But every now and then as the waves and wash of the steamer rolled ashore, churning up the mud, they startled the dull, heavy alligators into activity, sending them scurrying off the muddy banks into deep water, to await the passing of the, to them, large water monster, whose great bulk dwarfed them into insignificance the most extreme.
Lower and lower down stream went the steamer with the dense black line of jungle on either side, till at the suggestion of the Malay pilots the steam was turned off, a couple of boats lowered, and the position of the vessel being reversed, she was allowed to float down head to stream, for quite another half-hour, when the word having been given, a small anchor that had been hanging down in the water was let go, without so much as a plash, the stout hemp cable ran quietly out, and the vessel was checked just off the narrow mouth of a creek, which seemed to run up amidst the palms and undergrowth, for there were no mangroves till the tidal waters were reached.
There was a little rapid passing to and fro here, and a couple of boats were silently lowered down, to go a quarter of a mile below to watch the other entrance to the creek, for the Malays were too fox-like not to have a hole for exit as well as one for entry. But everything was done in the most noiseless manner, so that when three more boats full of soldiers, marines, and sailors rowed off for the creek, no one would have imagined that they had slipped off on a deadly errand, or that the steamer was cleared for action, the guns shotted and every man ready to let loose a deadly hail that should cut down the jungle like a scythe amidst the corn.
But the British officers had yet to learn that the Malays were more than their equals in cunning. No sooner had the steamer passed on into the bank of mist and darkness that overhung the river, than there was a rustle, a splash, the rattling noise of large oars being thrust out, and in a couple of minutes the two long snaky prahus they had passed crammed with fighting men were gliding up stream towards the residency, where certainly there were sentries on guard, but no dread of an enemy at hand.
The boats then had pushed off from the steamer, which lay ready to help them, and rowing out of the swift waters of the river they began to ascend the dark and muddy creek, when Bob Roberts, who was with the lieutenant and part of the soldiers in the same boat suddenly whispered—
“Hark! wasn’t that distant firing?”
They listened, but could hear nothing, and the lieutenant was about to order the men to pull more sharply, when Bob touched his arm again.
“I’m sure that’s firing, sir,” he said.
“Nonsense, Roberts! absurd! Sit still and be silent. What firing could it be? We are ten miles from the residency.”
“I can’t help it, sir, if we are twenty,” said Bob, sharply. “I’m sure it was firing, and there it goes again.”
“Silence, sir,” said the lieutenant, angrily. “Give way, my lads, give way.”
The ship’s boats glided on over the smooth water, the men rowing with muffled oars; and so steadily that the blades seemed to be dipping in without making a splash.
The creek grew narrower, so that they had to keep right in the middle to avoid letting the oar blades brush the reeds, and so they rowed on, but without seeing anything resembling a prahu.
As to their direction, that they could not tell, but the shape of the creek they believed to be that of a bow—at least so the Malays had described it; and as the two ends of the bow must rest upon the river, they were sure, unless they struck up some narrow tortuous way, to come out at the other mouth and join the boats.
They went on very cautiously, with the midshipman anxious to talk to Tom Long, who sat beside him, but forbidden now to utter so much as a whisper. The oars dipped and rose, dipped and rose, without a sound, and sometimes a reed or water plant rustled slightly as it brushed the sides of the boats.
That in which the lieutenant was in command led the weird procession, Captain Smithers being in the next, while the third, nearly full of marines, every man with his loaded rifle between his knees, was close behind.
Still there was no sign of the prahus, and to the lieutenant’s great annoyance, he found that in the darkness they must have turned up the sluggish stream that flowed into the creek, and missed the continuation, which was probably masked with reeds.
He felt ready to stamp with vexation, but controlling himself he passed the word, and the boats backed down the stream, that in which the officer in command was seated naturally being the last of the three.
“Wouldn’t it have been better to have brought the Malays, sir?” said Bob.
“Yes, of course; but the cowards were afraid to come, my good lad,” said the lieutenant.
“There, sir,” whispered Bob again, “isn’t that firing?”
“If you say another word to me about your confounded firing,” said the lieutenant sharply, “I’ll have you gagged, sir.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, sir,” grumbled Bob, “but I’m sure there’s something wrong up yonder.”
“And I’m sure there’s something wrong here, Mr Roberts,” said the lieutenant, “and that’s enough for me to attend to.”
They went back in silence for some time, and then Tom Long, whose eyes were unusually good, pointed to a part of the reed-bed on the right.
“Is not that the continuation of the creek, sir?”
“Yes, to be sure, so it is,” said the lieutenant. “We can see it coming this way. It’s masked by those trees the other way. Steady, my lads; steady. Let us go first.”
The creek was wider here, so the boats turned, and retook their former positions; but still there was no sign of the prahus.
“Those scoundrels must have led us wrong,” muttered the lieutenant; “there’s nothing here. Why, yonder’s the open river, isn’t it; or is it a wider space? Yes, thank goodness; there are the prahus after all.”
He waited till the other boats closed up, and then whispered his final orders, appointing two boats to attack one of the prahus while he made for the other alone.
“Now then,” he whispered, “are you all ready? A bold dash, my lads, and they are ours.”
“Please, sir,” said old Dick.
“What is it?” cried the lieutenant, angrily.
“Them’s our own two boats. I’d swear to ’em.”
“And I’m sure that’sfiring,” cried Bob, aloud.
“Yes,” said Tom Long, speaking excitedly; “those were the two prahus we passed on the way down.”
“And they are attacking the residency,” cried Bob.
Even as he spoke there was a shot fired from the steamer to recall the boats, and the men bent to their stout ashen oars with all their might, the lieutenant as he leaped on board being met by Captain Horton with—
“These Malay tigers are a little too cunning for us, Johnson. Those were the prahus we passed on the way down.”
“Yes, sir, another slip; but we may have them yet.”
Chapter Sixteen.How Private Sim took a Nap, and found it Unpleasant.A general feeling of uneasiness had been excited as soon as it was known that the “Startler” had left her moorings to go in search of the two escaped prahus. Mr Linton did not feel happy in his own mind, though he did not communicate his fears to a soul.Still he might have spoken openly, for it would not have caused greater terrors in the breasts of his daughter and niece, who were for some reason or another too full of vague fears to retire to rest. It did not occur to them to associate their sensations with the departure of the steamer. In fact if they had so done, they would not have harboured the thought for a moment, knowing as they did how well-protected they were by the sturdy little garrison of troops, only about a third of which had gone upon the expedition.Both Tom Long and Bob Roberts might have been conceited enough to think that the uneasiness of the ladies was entirely upon their account, and they would have been terribly upset to know that not a single thought concerning them had crossed the minds of either since the departure.It was, in fact, a vague feeling of general uneasiness, such as might have been suffered at any time by those who were comparatively alone in the midst of a notoriously hostile, and even treacherous people, some of whom were friendly to the English, though the majority bore them the most intense hate.Even the Major was out of spirits, and told Mrs Major that he would after all a great deal rather be at home, than out in such a treacherous, krising, throat-cutting place as Parang.“And a very nice thing to say too,” said Mrs Major Sandars, “just too as we are going to bed. I shall now lie awake all night thinking, and keep seeing brown men climbing in through the blinds, and be uneasy as can be.”“Don’t talk nonsense,” said the Major, gruffly. “But really I’ve a good mind to have the sentries increased in number.”“I really would, if I were you,” said Mrs Major.“No; second thoughts are best. There is no occasion to harass the men with extra duty; and, besides, I’m nearly undressed.”So the Major and Mrs Major went to bed, as did the majority of those at the station, excepting, of course, the officer and the guard.There was one man though who shared the feeling of uneasiness. Earlier in the night he had been disappointed at not being called upon to form one of the little company for the expedition, for he was raging with desire to in some way distinguish himself. He was a mere private soldier, but he told himself that the way to honour was open; and though a long and wearisome one for a private, still he might win his way to promotion—corporal, sergeant—some day, perhaps, ensign; and so on, till he became, maybe, adjutant of his regiment.He could not sleep that evening, and crushing down the feelings that oppressed him, he told himself it was the heat, and dressing lightly, he went out into the comparative coolness of the night.He had not gone far before he was reminded that there was watchfulness around; for he was challenged by first one and then another sentry, who, however, in turn, let him pass, on finding who it was. And so he wandered restlessly here and there amidst the trees, longing to go in one direction, but fighting hard against the desire; as he told himself with a bitter smile that some of the old poison of the water-snake must still be in his blood, and be the cause of all this restlessness and pain.He had wandered here and there for some time, seating himself amidst the trees, and then going down to the landing-place to gaze at the calm swift river that eddied and gurgled amidst the water-washed boats and masses of rush at the edge of the island, wondering the while whether possibly at some time or another the effect of the constant washing of the water might not be to completely sweep away the island. “Not in our time of possession,” he said to himself; and turning slowly away he stood hesitating for a while, and then, in spite of his self-restraint he took the path leading to Mr Linton’s house, to convince himself, so he mentally said, that the place was quite safe.The “place” in his brain really meant one solitary being in that house, for if he felt assured that Rachel Linton was sleeping peacefully, and with no overhanging danger, he said that he should be satisfied.He went on then cautiously, getting nearer and nearer to the house, and feeling surprised that he was not challenged by a sentry, till he was quite close up, and then his heart began to beat fast, for he fancied he heard whispering voices, and at last, after intense listening, he was quite sure.Here then was the danger; not such danger as he had fancifully imagined—the swimming of tigers from the mainland, or some noxious reptile; it was from man that the peril was to come.He stole on again, making not a sound. And now he recalled how some Malay had swum to the island and hurled a spear in through one of the residency windows.“Good heavens!” he muttered; “and I am quite unarmed.” As this thought occurred to him, he could hear the whispering continued; and mingled with it there seemed to come a sound of hard breathing, like a sleeper close at hand.It was so—the sentry asleep; and following the sound two or three yards, Adam Gray bent over a prostrate form, and caught up the rifle with fixed bayonet, seeing at the same moment that it was Private Sim.He was about to kick the fellow, but he thought that by so doing he should be spreading the alarm, perhaps prematurely; so he walked cautiously forward towards where the whispering seemed to be.It was so dark amidst the trees that he could hardly make out his position; but directly after it seemed to him that the sounds came from an upper window; and as the thought struck him he stepped upon a piece of dry cane, which snapped beneath his feet.To bring his rifle to the present was the work of an instant; and as he did so a quick voice exclaimed,—“Who is there? Is that the sentry?”“Yes, ma’am,” he replied; feeling the blood tingle in his face, as he recognised the voice.“We thought we heard the hard breathing of some beast, or some one asleep,” said Rachel Linton, with her voice shaking a little as she spoke, “and we were afraid.”“There was—there is some one asleep here, ma’am;” said Gray, trying to speak calmly and quietly; “but I am on duty now.”“It is Private Gray, Rachel, whom you attended to,” said another voice. “Let us go in now, we shall be quite safe.”“Yes,” said Rachel, in a low voice, meant only for herself; but heard plainly in the utter silence of that night, “we shall be quite safe now.”“Good-night, sentry,” said Mary Sinclair.“Good-night, ma’am,” replied Gray; and he stood and heard the shutter blind closed with a bitter feeling of annoyance at his heart.“My name seems to have driven her away,” he muttered. “At any rate, though, I am of some use,” he said soon after; “she feels safe when I am by.”All was perfectly still now, except the heavy breathing of Private Sim; and Gray stood thinking what he should do.Should he wake up Sim?No; if he did, he would have to leave him on duty, when he would go to sleep again, and something horrible might happen.What was to happen? he asked himself.That, he could not say; but on one thing he determined at once, and that was, to take Private Sim’s place and to keep guard.But then Sim’s lapse of duty would be found out, and he would be severely punished.Richly he deserved it; but perhaps a severe taking to task might suffice to awaken him to a sense of his duty; and therefore Gray felt that he would be lenient, and not betray him, though it was horrible to think that the lives of all on the island might be betrayed to death by the neglect of such a fellow as this.Private Gray was a man of quick decision, and his mind was made up at once. He would keep on duty till it was time for the guard to be changed, and then he would wake up Sim, and see that a responsible man took his place.“The lazy, untrustworthy scoundrel!” he muttered, as he shouldered the rifle and walked up and down for a few minutes along the sentry’s post. But matters were not to be ordered as he intended, for he had not been on duty very long before he heard a sound from the river that made him start and listen attentively.“Nothing!” he said to himself after a few seconds’ attention; and he once more resumed his slow march up and down, the motion seeming to calm him, for when standing still his thoughts tortured him.“There it is again,” he said to himself suddenly. “It is a boat of some kind.”Plainly enough now he had heard the peculiar creak given by an oar rubbing against wood, and this was repeated again and again.He strained his eyes in the direction from which it came, but could see nothing for the trees. Feeling, though, that he ought to act, he went to where Private Sim still lay sleeping heavily and gave him a lusty kick, with the effect of making him start to his feet.“I only—oh, it’s you Private Gray,” he said, huskily. “I thought it was the sergeant.”“You untrustworthy villain!” whispered Gray. “Silence, this moment. Take your rifle, and keep watch till I return.”“Who are you talking to like that?” said Sim, in a bullying tone.“You, sir,” replied Gray, in a low, authoritative manner, which made the man shrink. “Do you wish me to report that I found you sleeping at your post? Silence! no words. There is a large boat of some kind approaching; be on the look-out and challenge, and fire if necessary.”Private Sim did not answer, but stood on the alert, while Gray ran back in the direction of the fort.Before he was half-way there, though, he heard the challenge of a sentry on his right, followed by a faint cry and a heavy fall.The challenge was repeated by another sentry farther away, and this time there was the report of a sentry’s rifle; and directly after came from behind him, where he had left Private Sim, the report of another piece.He knew it must be Sim, and as danger was there, his first impulse was to run back to the help of the ladies and the resident. His second thought told him that he was unarmed, and such an act would be madness. It must take some time for an enemy to break into the place, and before then the soldiers would have turned out.In fact the bugle rang out as he hurried on through the darkness, being compelled to turn back twice; for he heard the trampling of feet and rustling of the leaves as people forced their way through, and he was obliged to make somewhat of a détour.Even then somebody struck at him, a blow which he returned with his fist, sending his assailant staggering back amidst the bushes, while he ran on, to hear a limbing whistle by his ear.Shot after shot had meanwhile been fired, fully giving the alarm, and by the time Gray reached the fort, after an extremely perilous run—for the way seemed to swarm with enemies; and even now he did not know whether he was wounded or no, for he had felt two heavy blows in the chest and back—he found the men falling in, and catching his rifle and belts from the stand he joined them.Major Sandars was with them, in nothing but his shirt and trousers and bare feet, but he had not forgotten his sword, and in a few short words he made his arrangements for the defence of the fort, while, to Gray’s great delight, he detailed a party of a dozen men, under a lieutenant, to go down to the residency.“You must act according to circumstances, Mr Ellis,” he said quietly. “It is impossible to tell who or how many our assailants are; but the darkness that favours them will also favour you. Your orders are to get somehow to the residency, and hold it or bring its occupants away, according to circumstances.”The lieutenant saluted, and the dozen men, among whom was Gray, were marched to the gate.There was not one among them who had done more than slip on his trousers, so that they were in light fighting trim; and as soon as they were outside the gate, the lieutenant gave the word, “Quick march—double!” and away they went in single file along the narrow path.Before they could reach the residency their pulses began to throb, for there were the sharp, quick reports of a revolver, fired six times in succession. Then a rifle spoke, and another followed by a desultory firing as if in reply.Then from behind came the loud, heavy report of a brass lelah, fired evidently from some boat on the river; then another, and another, with more desultory firing.“Come along my lads; our fellows will talk to them directly.” There was a crashing volley just then.“I told you so. That’s English, my lads. Steady, steady; don’t get out of breath. As we get out of the wood here, form up directly in the open, and wait till we can see by the firing where the enemy is. Then we’ll give him a volley, and charge at once right for the verandah, where we’ll take our places, and act as is afterwards necessary.”The men followed their leader’s commands to the letter, formed up in a little line outside the path, and stood there waiting in the darkness, watching the flashing of a revolver fired from one of the residency windows, and the quick streaks of light from a party of the enemy, whoever that enemy might be, just in front.“Ready!” cried the lieutenant; and as he gave his command there was the quick rattle of the pieces, then a ringing little volley, the cryForward! and on the party dashed with a hearty hurrah, which had the effect of stopping the fire from the residency, Mr Linton and his servant, who had been defending the place, recognising the voices of friends.The little line, with fixed bayonets, dashed over and swept down a cluster of Malays who tried to meet their attack with spears before taking to flight, and the next moment, it seemed to Gray, he was standing with his comrades in the verandah, reloading.“Any one down?” cried the lieutenant, sharply.“No, sir; no, sir,” was repeated on all sides.“All right then, my boys; make cover of anything—posts, flower vases, anything you can; and we must hold on. Fire where you have a chance; but don’t waste a shot.”The opening of a door changed the plans, for Mr Linton’s voice was heard saying,—“Come in quickly; and we can fire from the windows.” This little evolution was soon performed, but under fire, for the Malays sent a desultory series of shots, in company with flying spears, though without any effect, while as soon as the rest of the upper windows were thrown open the men knelt down behind what was an excellent breast-work, and maintained a steady fire wherever they saw a flash.Meanwhile there was some sharp volley firing from the direction of the fort, in reply to that of the enemy’s brass lelahs. This was soon after followed by the heavy roar of a larger gun on board one of the prahus, to which the occupants of the little fort could not reply, on account of the darkness, and the fact that one of the attacking prahus was between them and the campong, while the other was so sheltered by trees that it would have been folly to have fired.The attack was weak in the extreme—the Malays running forward, firing a shot or two, and then retreating to cover; and this was kept up for a considerable time, the enemy evidently thinking that as the defenders were weak through the departure of the steamer, they would soon give in.It was evident that they were staggered by the defence, for they had no doubt hoped to surprise both fort and residency. In token of this, the attacking party retreated two or three times over, as if to ask for advice or fresh orders from their boats—orders that were pretty decisive, for they came on each time more keenly than before, the last time with bundles of inflammable wood and reeds, with which they boldly advanced to the verandah of the residency, throwing them down and then rapidly retreating.Lieutenant Ellis no sooner became aware of this, though, than he got his men out from a side window, formed up, waited their time till the Malays came on, shouting, with a burning torch of inflammable resin, and then gave them a volley, followed by a charge.The enemy gave way at once, but only for a few moments; then their numbers seemed to become augmented, and with a tremendous rush they bore back the little party of soldiers step by step. Numbers fell, but they paid no heed to this; and the lieutenant began to wish earnestly that they were safe back within the walls of the residency, when there was a roar like thunder, then the beating of gongs on both sides of the island. Then another roar, and another, and the Englishmen began to cheer and pursue, for the Malays were rushing in the direction of the gongs.But it was no time for pursuing this crowd of Malays into narrow paths through dark woods. They had maintained their defence till the steamer had returned, and now she was firing regularly, gun after gun, in the direction of the prahus, but doing no harm, the darkness giving them no opportunity for taking aim.The firing of the steamer’s big Armstrongs had, however, the effect of causing asauve qui peutstyle of retreat amidst the Malays; and at the end of ten minutes the sweeps of the prahus were in full work, and the whole party rapidly making their way up the river once more to some fresh hiding-place, from which they could issue to deal ruin and destruction wherever they pleased.
A general feeling of uneasiness had been excited as soon as it was known that the “Startler” had left her moorings to go in search of the two escaped prahus. Mr Linton did not feel happy in his own mind, though he did not communicate his fears to a soul.
Still he might have spoken openly, for it would not have caused greater terrors in the breasts of his daughter and niece, who were for some reason or another too full of vague fears to retire to rest. It did not occur to them to associate their sensations with the departure of the steamer. In fact if they had so done, they would not have harboured the thought for a moment, knowing as they did how well-protected they were by the sturdy little garrison of troops, only about a third of which had gone upon the expedition.
Both Tom Long and Bob Roberts might have been conceited enough to think that the uneasiness of the ladies was entirely upon their account, and they would have been terribly upset to know that not a single thought concerning them had crossed the minds of either since the departure.
It was, in fact, a vague feeling of general uneasiness, such as might have been suffered at any time by those who were comparatively alone in the midst of a notoriously hostile, and even treacherous people, some of whom were friendly to the English, though the majority bore them the most intense hate.
Even the Major was out of spirits, and told Mrs Major that he would after all a great deal rather be at home, than out in such a treacherous, krising, throat-cutting place as Parang.
“And a very nice thing to say too,” said Mrs Major Sandars, “just too as we are going to bed. I shall now lie awake all night thinking, and keep seeing brown men climbing in through the blinds, and be uneasy as can be.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” said the Major, gruffly. “But really I’ve a good mind to have the sentries increased in number.”
“I really would, if I were you,” said Mrs Major.
“No; second thoughts are best. There is no occasion to harass the men with extra duty; and, besides, I’m nearly undressed.”
So the Major and Mrs Major went to bed, as did the majority of those at the station, excepting, of course, the officer and the guard.
There was one man though who shared the feeling of uneasiness. Earlier in the night he had been disappointed at not being called upon to form one of the little company for the expedition, for he was raging with desire to in some way distinguish himself. He was a mere private soldier, but he told himself that the way to honour was open; and though a long and wearisome one for a private, still he might win his way to promotion—corporal, sergeant—some day, perhaps, ensign; and so on, till he became, maybe, adjutant of his regiment.
He could not sleep that evening, and crushing down the feelings that oppressed him, he told himself it was the heat, and dressing lightly, he went out into the comparative coolness of the night.
He had not gone far before he was reminded that there was watchfulness around; for he was challenged by first one and then another sentry, who, however, in turn, let him pass, on finding who it was. And so he wandered restlessly here and there amidst the trees, longing to go in one direction, but fighting hard against the desire; as he told himself with a bitter smile that some of the old poison of the water-snake must still be in his blood, and be the cause of all this restlessness and pain.
He had wandered here and there for some time, seating himself amidst the trees, and then going down to the landing-place to gaze at the calm swift river that eddied and gurgled amidst the water-washed boats and masses of rush at the edge of the island, wondering the while whether possibly at some time or another the effect of the constant washing of the water might not be to completely sweep away the island. “Not in our time of possession,” he said to himself; and turning slowly away he stood hesitating for a while, and then, in spite of his self-restraint he took the path leading to Mr Linton’s house, to convince himself, so he mentally said, that the place was quite safe.
The “place” in his brain really meant one solitary being in that house, for if he felt assured that Rachel Linton was sleeping peacefully, and with no overhanging danger, he said that he should be satisfied.
He went on then cautiously, getting nearer and nearer to the house, and feeling surprised that he was not challenged by a sentry, till he was quite close up, and then his heart began to beat fast, for he fancied he heard whispering voices, and at last, after intense listening, he was quite sure.
Here then was the danger; not such danger as he had fancifully imagined—the swimming of tigers from the mainland, or some noxious reptile; it was from man that the peril was to come.
He stole on again, making not a sound. And now he recalled how some Malay had swum to the island and hurled a spear in through one of the residency windows.
“Good heavens!” he muttered; “and I am quite unarmed.” As this thought occurred to him, he could hear the whispering continued; and mingled with it there seemed to come a sound of hard breathing, like a sleeper close at hand.
It was so—the sentry asleep; and following the sound two or three yards, Adam Gray bent over a prostrate form, and caught up the rifle with fixed bayonet, seeing at the same moment that it was Private Sim.
He was about to kick the fellow, but he thought that by so doing he should be spreading the alarm, perhaps prematurely; so he walked cautiously forward towards where the whispering seemed to be.
It was so dark amidst the trees that he could hardly make out his position; but directly after it seemed to him that the sounds came from an upper window; and as the thought struck him he stepped upon a piece of dry cane, which snapped beneath his feet.
To bring his rifle to the present was the work of an instant; and as he did so a quick voice exclaimed,—“Who is there? Is that the sentry?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied; feeling the blood tingle in his face, as he recognised the voice.
“We thought we heard the hard breathing of some beast, or some one asleep,” said Rachel Linton, with her voice shaking a little as she spoke, “and we were afraid.”
“There was—there is some one asleep here, ma’am;” said Gray, trying to speak calmly and quietly; “but I am on duty now.”
“It is Private Gray, Rachel, whom you attended to,” said another voice. “Let us go in now, we shall be quite safe.”
“Yes,” said Rachel, in a low voice, meant only for herself; but heard plainly in the utter silence of that night, “we shall be quite safe now.”
“Good-night, sentry,” said Mary Sinclair.
“Good-night, ma’am,” replied Gray; and he stood and heard the shutter blind closed with a bitter feeling of annoyance at his heart.
“My name seems to have driven her away,” he muttered. “At any rate, though, I am of some use,” he said soon after; “she feels safe when I am by.”
All was perfectly still now, except the heavy breathing of Private Sim; and Gray stood thinking what he should do.
Should he wake up Sim?
No; if he did, he would have to leave him on duty, when he would go to sleep again, and something horrible might happen.
What was to happen? he asked himself.
That, he could not say; but on one thing he determined at once, and that was, to take Private Sim’s place and to keep guard.
But then Sim’s lapse of duty would be found out, and he would be severely punished.
Richly he deserved it; but perhaps a severe taking to task might suffice to awaken him to a sense of his duty; and therefore Gray felt that he would be lenient, and not betray him, though it was horrible to think that the lives of all on the island might be betrayed to death by the neglect of such a fellow as this.
Private Gray was a man of quick decision, and his mind was made up at once. He would keep on duty till it was time for the guard to be changed, and then he would wake up Sim, and see that a responsible man took his place.
“The lazy, untrustworthy scoundrel!” he muttered, as he shouldered the rifle and walked up and down for a few minutes along the sentry’s post. But matters were not to be ordered as he intended, for he had not been on duty very long before he heard a sound from the river that made him start and listen attentively.
“Nothing!” he said to himself after a few seconds’ attention; and he once more resumed his slow march up and down, the motion seeming to calm him, for when standing still his thoughts tortured him.
“There it is again,” he said to himself suddenly. “It is a boat of some kind.”
Plainly enough now he had heard the peculiar creak given by an oar rubbing against wood, and this was repeated again and again.
He strained his eyes in the direction from which it came, but could see nothing for the trees. Feeling, though, that he ought to act, he went to where Private Sim still lay sleeping heavily and gave him a lusty kick, with the effect of making him start to his feet.
“I only—oh, it’s you Private Gray,” he said, huskily. “I thought it was the sergeant.”
“You untrustworthy villain!” whispered Gray. “Silence, this moment. Take your rifle, and keep watch till I return.”
“Who are you talking to like that?” said Sim, in a bullying tone.
“You, sir,” replied Gray, in a low, authoritative manner, which made the man shrink. “Do you wish me to report that I found you sleeping at your post? Silence! no words. There is a large boat of some kind approaching; be on the look-out and challenge, and fire if necessary.”
Private Sim did not answer, but stood on the alert, while Gray ran back in the direction of the fort.
Before he was half-way there, though, he heard the challenge of a sentry on his right, followed by a faint cry and a heavy fall.
The challenge was repeated by another sentry farther away, and this time there was the report of a sentry’s rifle; and directly after came from behind him, where he had left Private Sim, the report of another piece.
He knew it must be Sim, and as danger was there, his first impulse was to run back to the help of the ladies and the resident. His second thought told him that he was unarmed, and such an act would be madness. It must take some time for an enemy to break into the place, and before then the soldiers would have turned out.
In fact the bugle rang out as he hurried on through the darkness, being compelled to turn back twice; for he heard the trampling of feet and rustling of the leaves as people forced their way through, and he was obliged to make somewhat of a détour.
Even then somebody struck at him, a blow which he returned with his fist, sending his assailant staggering back amidst the bushes, while he ran on, to hear a limbing whistle by his ear.
Shot after shot had meanwhile been fired, fully giving the alarm, and by the time Gray reached the fort, after an extremely perilous run—for the way seemed to swarm with enemies; and even now he did not know whether he was wounded or no, for he had felt two heavy blows in the chest and back—he found the men falling in, and catching his rifle and belts from the stand he joined them.
Major Sandars was with them, in nothing but his shirt and trousers and bare feet, but he had not forgotten his sword, and in a few short words he made his arrangements for the defence of the fort, while, to Gray’s great delight, he detailed a party of a dozen men, under a lieutenant, to go down to the residency.
“You must act according to circumstances, Mr Ellis,” he said quietly. “It is impossible to tell who or how many our assailants are; but the darkness that favours them will also favour you. Your orders are to get somehow to the residency, and hold it or bring its occupants away, according to circumstances.”
The lieutenant saluted, and the dozen men, among whom was Gray, were marched to the gate.
There was not one among them who had done more than slip on his trousers, so that they were in light fighting trim; and as soon as they were outside the gate, the lieutenant gave the word, “Quick march—double!” and away they went in single file along the narrow path.
Before they could reach the residency their pulses began to throb, for there were the sharp, quick reports of a revolver, fired six times in succession. Then a rifle spoke, and another followed by a desultory firing as if in reply.
Then from behind came the loud, heavy report of a brass lelah, fired evidently from some boat on the river; then another, and another, with more desultory firing.
“Come along my lads; our fellows will talk to them directly.” There was a crashing volley just then.
“I told you so. That’s English, my lads. Steady, steady; don’t get out of breath. As we get out of the wood here, form up directly in the open, and wait till we can see by the firing where the enemy is. Then we’ll give him a volley, and charge at once right for the verandah, where we’ll take our places, and act as is afterwards necessary.”
The men followed their leader’s commands to the letter, formed up in a little line outside the path, and stood there waiting in the darkness, watching the flashing of a revolver fired from one of the residency windows, and the quick streaks of light from a party of the enemy, whoever that enemy might be, just in front.
“Ready!” cried the lieutenant; and as he gave his command there was the quick rattle of the pieces, then a ringing little volley, the cryForward! and on the party dashed with a hearty hurrah, which had the effect of stopping the fire from the residency, Mr Linton and his servant, who had been defending the place, recognising the voices of friends.
The little line, with fixed bayonets, dashed over and swept down a cluster of Malays who tried to meet their attack with spears before taking to flight, and the next moment, it seemed to Gray, he was standing with his comrades in the verandah, reloading.
“Any one down?” cried the lieutenant, sharply.
“No, sir; no, sir,” was repeated on all sides.
“All right then, my boys; make cover of anything—posts, flower vases, anything you can; and we must hold on. Fire where you have a chance; but don’t waste a shot.”
The opening of a door changed the plans, for Mr Linton’s voice was heard saying,—“Come in quickly; and we can fire from the windows.” This little evolution was soon performed, but under fire, for the Malays sent a desultory series of shots, in company with flying spears, though without any effect, while as soon as the rest of the upper windows were thrown open the men knelt down behind what was an excellent breast-work, and maintained a steady fire wherever they saw a flash.
Meanwhile there was some sharp volley firing from the direction of the fort, in reply to that of the enemy’s brass lelahs. This was soon after followed by the heavy roar of a larger gun on board one of the prahus, to which the occupants of the little fort could not reply, on account of the darkness, and the fact that one of the attacking prahus was between them and the campong, while the other was so sheltered by trees that it would have been folly to have fired.
The attack was weak in the extreme—the Malays running forward, firing a shot or two, and then retreating to cover; and this was kept up for a considerable time, the enemy evidently thinking that as the defenders were weak through the departure of the steamer, they would soon give in.
It was evident that they were staggered by the defence, for they had no doubt hoped to surprise both fort and residency. In token of this, the attacking party retreated two or three times over, as if to ask for advice or fresh orders from their boats—orders that were pretty decisive, for they came on each time more keenly than before, the last time with bundles of inflammable wood and reeds, with which they boldly advanced to the verandah of the residency, throwing them down and then rapidly retreating.
Lieutenant Ellis no sooner became aware of this, though, than he got his men out from a side window, formed up, waited their time till the Malays came on, shouting, with a burning torch of inflammable resin, and then gave them a volley, followed by a charge.
The enemy gave way at once, but only for a few moments; then their numbers seemed to become augmented, and with a tremendous rush they bore back the little party of soldiers step by step. Numbers fell, but they paid no heed to this; and the lieutenant began to wish earnestly that they were safe back within the walls of the residency, when there was a roar like thunder, then the beating of gongs on both sides of the island. Then another roar, and another, and the Englishmen began to cheer and pursue, for the Malays were rushing in the direction of the gongs.
But it was no time for pursuing this crowd of Malays into narrow paths through dark woods. They had maintained their defence till the steamer had returned, and now she was firing regularly, gun after gun, in the direction of the prahus, but doing no harm, the darkness giving them no opportunity for taking aim.
The firing of the steamer’s big Armstrongs had, however, the effect of causing asauve qui peutstyle of retreat amidst the Malays; and at the end of ten minutes the sweeps of the prahus were in full work, and the whole party rapidly making their way up the river once more to some fresh hiding-place, from which they could issue to deal ruin and destruction wherever they pleased.