Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Seventeen.How Dick buys a Rajah, and his first Luff objects.The rapid rate at which the two prahus went away from the island after the attacking party had scrambled in was sufficient to show those on board the “Startler” how impossible it would be to overtake them by means of boats. The only way would be to surprise their crews, or to sink them with the guns of the steamer next time they tried to pass down the river.Congratulations in plenty were exchanged as soon as the communications were effected, though a good deal of annoyance was felt at being again out-manoeuvred by the Malay cunning.One thing was very evident, and that was that there would be no safety for the residency while so daring a chieftain as Rajah Gantang was at liberty, with his two cleverly managed prahus.No further alarms took place during the night, and in the morning the amount of damage done was found to be nothing more than a little carpentering and painting would restore. The real damage done was to the British prestige, which, in spite of the brave defence, had received a blow in the eyes of the Malays.Judging the matter fairly next morning, Mr Linton and the officers came to the conclusion, after a careful inspection, that though it would have been necessary for the occupants of the residency to have fled to the little fort, half-a-dozen such desultory attacks would have done the latter no real harm.“No,” said Major Sandars, aloud; “for my part, if provisioned, I should see no difficulty in holding our place against half-a-dozen rajahs. There is only one way in which we could be hit.”“And that is?” said Captain Horton.“By a surprise such as they treated us to last night. There is no other way in which they could harm us.”Adam Gray heard his words, and in silence made an addition to them.“They could harm us by treachery, or by the neglect of our sentries.”The dark scene of the previous night flashed across his mind as he thought this, and he recalled Private Sim’s recumbent form amidst the grass, wondering the while whether he ought not to relate what had taken place, and so obtain for the fellow the punishment he deserved.Finally, he made up his mind to let matters take their course, after giving Sim to understand that he should report him if such a thing came under his notice again.The sultan sent word that he was most grieved to hear of this new attack, and begged the resident to spare no pains to root the rajah and his followers off the face of the earth. He assured Mr Linton, by his messengers, that he felt the insult as bitterly as if it had been offered to himself; while even now, surrounded as he was by faithful followers, he never dared sleep twice in the same place in his house, for fear that an envoy of the rajah should pass a kris up between the bamboos that formed the flooring, and assassinate him.The message sent back was that no effort should be spared to rid the river of so dangerous a neighbour; but opportunity failed to offer for carrying out the promise.Anywhere within a mile or two of the sultan’s campong the people were ready enough to give information to the English, when a boat was sent to cruise about and endeavour to find where the rajah had hidden; but beyond that distance they were met with stern looks of distrust, and it was evident to the officers in charge that the rajah was perfectly safe, his influence being too great amongst the people for any one to act as informer.This added a good deal to the feeling of insecurity felt at the residency; and to counteract this the ship’s carpenters were set to work to contrive stout shutters with loopholes for barricading, and also make the doors more secure.The fort with its little barrack was already pretty safe, and of course so long as the steamer lay there, any attacking prahus could be literally blown out of the river; but there was always the risk of the steamer being called away, and in view of this Mr Linton increased the arms and ammunition at his house, and also asked for an extra sentry.In a few days the night attack had lost the greater part of its terrors, for the steamer was not likely to be moved at present, and boats were almost constantly out patrolling the river in search of the enemy.Every sampan or prahu that came down the stream was stopped, boarded, and searched, at first greatly to the annoyance of their occupants. Several times over efforts were made to slip by, but the report of a heavy gun fired across their bows brought the Malays to their senses, and they humbly submitted to the overhauling.These boats were for the most part laden with rice, fruit, or slabs of tin, and of these every rajah up the river made a practice of taking toll for payment of his permission to pass down the stream.The occupants of a prahu then might already have paid tax two or three times, and the appearance of this new power in the river was resented strongly; but when it was found that no tin was taken from them, and that when rice, or fruit, or poultry was taken, the full market value was paid in dollars, a strong friendly feeling sprang up mingled with respect.The news soon spread, and from that time whenever a trading boat came down from the upper country, the sight of an English boat was sufficient to make the Malays lie on their oars or pole, and await the coming of the English officer to board.There came quite a calm over the little settlement about this time. The rajah was not heard of, and information, true or false, was brought in that the prahus were high up the stream, where they had been rowed during a flood, and taken up a tributary of the main river, where, on the cessation of the flood, they remained grounded and out of reach.The sultan seemed to have forgotten his disappointment about the ladies, and the soldiers and sailors were enjoying a time of indolent ease, their greatest excitement being a little drill. Provisions were plentiful, fruit abundant, with as much native tobacco as the men liked to buy, at a most moderate price, and in spite of the steamy heat the people were perfectly happy.Ali, the young chief, had been again to see Bob Roberts on board; but as yet the visit had not been returned, the attack upon the residency having put a stop to all leave for the time being; but as the officers were getting less strict, the middy was looking forward to the day when he could go ashore. In the meanwhile he indulged himself with a little fishing from out the chains.Doctor Bolter was about the happiest man at the island, for now that he had got his sanitary matters put right, and his wounded men well, he had ample time for following his favourite pursuit of natural history.The sailors were in a high state of delight over what they called the “Bolter’s weakness,” and out of gratitude to him for many a little bit of doctoring, they took him everything they could get hold of that flew, crept, crawled, ran, or swam, bothering him almost to death. For Jack could not see the necessity for refraining from presenting the doctor with a fire-fly, because Tom had taken him a dozen the day before, and Bill two dozen the day before that.“Wasn’t his flies as good as Bill’s, or Tom’s? Well, then, mind yer own business, and let him mind his.”Dick came back from the shore beaming one day, with a large black monkey under his arm, held by a stout piece of chain, and a dog collar round its loins.“Hallo, Dick,” said one of his messmates, Bill Black, as soon as he climbed on board. “Where did you find your little brother?”“’Tain’t no brother o’ mine,” said Dick seriously; “he’s a Black, and his name’s Joseph, ain’t it Joey?”The monkey wrinkled its forehead, and its restless eyes ran over one after the other of the group as the sailors gathered round, who now began laughing.“Well, he’s a handsome chap at all events,” said Bill, putting out his hand to pat the monkey on the head.“Don’t touch him, lad,” growled Dick, by way of caution; “he bites.”“Get out,” said Bill. “Now then, old man, how are you?”“Chick—chack—squitter—witter—chack,” cried the monkey, snapping at the sailor’s hand and giving it a sharp nip.“There, I told you so,” said Dick.“Hallo, what have you got there, Dick?” said Bob Roberts, coming up, attracted by the laughing.“Native gentleman, sir, I bought for four dollars,” said Dick, seriously. “He’s a rar-jah I think, only he hadn’t time to get his toggery and his kris afore he come aboard.”“Didn’t know the native gentlemen had tails,” said Bob, smiling. “Hallo, old chap, how are you? Have a bite?”He held out half a biscuit that he happened to have in his jacket pocket, and the monkey looked at him curiously, as it held out one long thin black hand, flinchingly, as if expecting to be teased.Twice it essayed to get the biscuit, but always flinched, till Bob took a step more in advance, when the animal snatched the coveted morsel and began to eat it ravenously.“Why, it’s half-starved, Dick,” said the middy.“Yes, sir, he tried to get a piece of Bill Black’s finger, but Bill cut up rough, and wouldn’t let him have it.”Here there was a fresh burst of laughter, in which Bill, whose finger was, after all, only pinched, heartily joined.“What are you going to do with him, Dick?” said Bob Roberts.“Well, sir,” said Dick, with a dry wrinkle or two extra on his mahogany physiognomy, “I was going to ask the skipper if he’d like to have the gent for a new middy, seeing as you, sir, have got to be quite a grown man now.”“Don’t you be cheeky, Dick,” said Bob, indignantly.“No, sir, I won’t,” said the old sailor humbly; “but on second thoughts, which is allers the best, Mr Roberts, sir, I thought as the skipper wouldn’t have a uniform as would fit him, so I said as I’d take him on to the island, where they’d soon make a sojer of him.”“Now look here, Dick,” said Bob, “I take no end of impudence from you, but let there be some end to it. Now then, have you done joking?”“Yes, sir, but he would look well in a red jacket, wouldn’t he?”“What are you going to do with the monkey?” said Bob, peremptorily.“Well, sir,” said Dick, seeing that he had gone far enough, “I was up in the campong there, and I bought him of one of the niggers as used him to pick cokey-nuts.”“Oh, yes, of course,” said Bob, derisively.“He will,” said Dick; “and I bought him because, I says to myself, I says: Here’s just the sorter thing our doctor would be glad to have, and he’d pin a long name to him directly, and say as he’s a Blackskinnius Monkinius, or something of the kind.”“And are you going to take it to the doctor?” said Bob.“Yes, sir, now, directly I’ve showed you how he can pick cokey-nuts. Bill Black, mate, just step down and bring that ball o’ stout fishing-line out o’ the locker, will you?”The sailor addressed went down, and returned directly after to Dick, who undid the chain, and tied one end of the stout fishing cord to the monkey’s strap.The little animal had been munching away at the biscuit in a quaint semi-human fashion; but as soon as Dick had fastened one end of the cord to the belt, it seemed to know what was wanted, for it squatted upon the deck, looking intelligently up in the sailor’s face.“There, ain’t he an old un?” said Dick. “Now then, Yusuf, be kraja.”As the monkey heard the last two words, it sprang up the rigging to one of the great blocks, which in his mind represented the cocoa-nuts it was to bring down, and seizing one it tried hard to twist it off, chattering angrily, till Dick gave the cord a jerk, when the animal bounded to another block, and tried hard to fetch it off, going so far as to gnaw at the rope that held it, till Dick gave the cord another jerk, when it came down.“Well done, old man,” said Dick, patting the animal, which kept close to his leg, as if feeling that it must find protection of him, when Dick took it under his arm.“Are you going now, Dick?” said Bob, eagerly.“Yes, sir.”“Wait a moment, and let me see if I can get leave. Why, look here; the doctor’s coming aboard.”True enough, Doctor Bolter was seen in a sampan rowed by one of the Malays, and a minute or two later he was on deck.“Monkey, eh?” he said sharply, as he saw the animal. “Semnopithecus Maurus, I should say. What are you going to do with it?”“Dick was going to give it to you, sir,” said Bob, smiling.“Give it—to me?” cried the doctor. “Thanks; no, my man, I must draw the line somewhere. Keep it on board. Climb the rigging, and that sort of thing. Here, you Roberts, tell the captain I’m here.”Bob went off, and then brought a message to the doctor, who went into the cabin. On returning to where Dick was standing, that worthy was scratching in a melancholy way at his head.“I’m ’bout done over this here monkey, sir,” he said. “I can’t go and get the chap to take him back.”“Keep him, and make a pet of him, Dick,” said the middy, holding out a lump of sugar to the subject of their conversation.“No, sir, that wouldn’t do. The skipper wouldn’t stand it; and besides, if the monkey was mine the chaps would lead him such a life, teaching him to smoke tobacco and drink grog. Will you have him, sir?”“No, Dick,” was the reply. “I’ve no money to spend on monkeys.”“I didn’t mean that, sir,” said Dick. “I meant it for a present for the doctor. Will you have him as a present, and take care of him?”“Of course I will, Dick, but I don’t like taking it.”“Why, bless your ’art, Mr Roberts, sir, you’d be doing me a kindness by taking of it. You take it, and you can larn him all sorts of tricks. Why, look at the pretty crittur, how he takes to you!”“Pretty crittur, indeed!” cried Bob. “You mean how he takes to the sugar. Here, come along, old man. Come, rouse up.”To Bob’s surprise the monkey got up, and came close to him, while upon Dick making a motion as if to refasten the chain, the animal snarled and snapped at him.“There now, look at that,” cried Dick. “You see you’ll have to take it, Master Roberts, sir.”“I’ll take him for a day or two,” said Bob; “but I expect the skipper won’t let me keep it.”“Lor’ bless you, sir, he’ll let you keep it, see if he don’t,” said the old sailor, and his words proved true.

The rapid rate at which the two prahus went away from the island after the attacking party had scrambled in was sufficient to show those on board the “Startler” how impossible it would be to overtake them by means of boats. The only way would be to surprise their crews, or to sink them with the guns of the steamer next time they tried to pass down the river.

Congratulations in plenty were exchanged as soon as the communications were effected, though a good deal of annoyance was felt at being again out-manoeuvred by the Malay cunning.

One thing was very evident, and that was that there would be no safety for the residency while so daring a chieftain as Rajah Gantang was at liberty, with his two cleverly managed prahus.

No further alarms took place during the night, and in the morning the amount of damage done was found to be nothing more than a little carpentering and painting would restore. The real damage done was to the British prestige, which, in spite of the brave defence, had received a blow in the eyes of the Malays.

Judging the matter fairly next morning, Mr Linton and the officers came to the conclusion, after a careful inspection, that though it would have been necessary for the occupants of the residency to have fled to the little fort, half-a-dozen such desultory attacks would have done the latter no real harm.

“No,” said Major Sandars, aloud; “for my part, if provisioned, I should see no difficulty in holding our place against half-a-dozen rajahs. There is only one way in which we could be hit.”

“And that is?” said Captain Horton.

“By a surprise such as they treated us to last night. There is no other way in which they could harm us.”

Adam Gray heard his words, and in silence made an addition to them.

“They could harm us by treachery, or by the neglect of our sentries.”

The dark scene of the previous night flashed across his mind as he thought this, and he recalled Private Sim’s recumbent form amidst the grass, wondering the while whether he ought not to relate what had taken place, and so obtain for the fellow the punishment he deserved.

Finally, he made up his mind to let matters take their course, after giving Sim to understand that he should report him if such a thing came under his notice again.

The sultan sent word that he was most grieved to hear of this new attack, and begged the resident to spare no pains to root the rajah and his followers off the face of the earth. He assured Mr Linton, by his messengers, that he felt the insult as bitterly as if it had been offered to himself; while even now, surrounded as he was by faithful followers, he never dared sleep twice in the same place in his house, for fear that an envoy of the rajah should pass a kris up between the bamboos that formed the flooring, and assassinate him.

The message sent back was that no effort should be spared to rid the river of so dangerous a neighbour; but opportunity failed to offer for carrying out the promise.

Anywhere within a mile or two of the sultan’s campong the people were ready enough to give information to the English, when a boat was sent to cruise about and endeavour to find where the rajah had hidden; but beyond that distance they were met with stern looks of distrust, and it was evident to the officers in charge that the rajah was perfectly safe, his influence being too great amongst the people for any one to act as informer.

This added a good deal to the feeling of insecurity felt at the residency; and to counteract this the ship’s carpenters were set to work to contrive stout shutters with loopholes for barricading, and also make the doors more secure.

The fort with its little barrack was already pretty safe, and of course so long as the steamer lay there, any attacking prahus could be literally blown out of the river; but there was always the risk of the steamer being called away, and in view of this Mr Linton increased the arms and ammunition at his house, and also asked for an extra sentry.

In a few days the night attack had lost the greater part of its terrors, for the steamer was not likely to be moved at present, and boats were almost constantly out patrolling the river in search of the enemy.

Every sampan or prahu that came down the stream was stopped, boarded, and searched, at first greatly to the annoyance of their occupants. Several times over efforts were made to slip by, but the report of a heavy gun fired across their bows brought the Malays to their senses, and they humbly submitted to the overhauling.

These boats were for the most part laden with rice, fruit, or slabs of tin, and of these every rajah up the river made a practice of taking toll for payment of his permission to pass down the stream.

The occupants of a prahu then might already have paid tax two or three times, and the appearance of this new power in the river was resented strongly; but when it was found that no tin was taken from them, and that when rice, or fruit, or poultry was taken, the full market value was paid in dollars, a strong friendly feeling sprang up mingled with respect.

The news soon spread, and from that time whenever a trading boat came down from the upper country, the sight of an English boat was sufficient to make the Malays lie on their oars or pole, and await the coming of the English officer to board.

There came quite a calm over the little settlement about this time. The rajah was not heard of, and information, true or false, was brought in that the prahus were high up the stream, where they had been rowed during a flood, and taken up a tributary of the main river, where, on the cessation of the flood, they remained grounded and out of reach.

The sultan seemed to have forgotten his disappointment about the ladies, and the soldiers and sailors were enjoying a time of indolent ease, their greatest excitement being a little drill. Provisions were plentiful, fruit abundant, with as much native tobacco as the men liked to buy, at a most moderate price, and in spite of the steamy heat the people were perfectly happy.

Ali, the young chief, had been again to see Bob Roberts on board; but as yet the visit had not been returned, the attack upon the residency having put a stop to all leave for the time being; but as the officers were getting less strict, the middy was looking forward to the day when he could go ashore. In the meanwhile he indulged himself with a little fishing from out the chains.

Doctor Bolter was about the happiest man at the island, for now that he had got his sanitary matters put right, and his wounded men well, he had ample time for following his favourite pursuit of natural history.

The sailors were in a high state of delight over what they called the “Bolter’s weakness,” and out of gratitude to him for many a little bit of doctoring, they took him everything they could get hold of that flew, crept, crawled, ran, or swam, bothering him almost to death. For Jack could not see the necessity for refraining from presenting the doctor with a fire-fly, because Tom had taken him a dozen the day before, and Bill two dozen the day before that.

“Wasn’t his flies as good as Bill’s, or Tom’s? Well, then, mind yer own business, and let him mind his.”

Dick came back from the shore beaming one day, with a large black monkey under his arm, held by a stout piece of chain, and a dog collar round its loins.

“Hallo, Dick,” said one of his messmates, Bill Black, as soon as he climbed on board. “Where did you find your little brother?”

“’Tain’t no brother o’ mine,” said Dick seriously; “he’s a Black, and his name’s Joseph, ain’t it Joey?”

The monkey wrinkled its forehead, and its restless eyes ran over one after the other of the group as the sailors gathered round, who now began laughing.

“Well, he’s a handsome chap at all events,” said Bill, putting out his hand to pat the monkey on the head.

“Don’t touch him, lad,” growled Dick, by way of caution; “he bites.”

“Get out,” said Bill. “Now then, old man, how are you?”

“Chick—chack—squitter—witter—chack,” cried the monkey, snapping at the sailor’s hand and giving it a sharp nip.

“There, I told you so,” said Dick.

“Hallo, what have you got there, Dick?” said Bob Roberts, coming up, attracted by the laughing.

“Native gentleman, sir, I bought for four dollars,” said Dick, seriously. “He’s a rar-jah I think, only he hadn’t time to get his toggery and his kris afore he come aboard.”

“Didn’t know the native gentlemen had tails,” said Bob, smiling. “Hallo, old chap, how are you? Have a bite?”

He held out half a biscuit that he happened to have in his jacket pocket, and the monkey looked at him curiously, as it held out one long thin black hand, flinchingly, as if expecting to be teased.

Twice it essayed to get the biscuit, but always flinched, till Bob took a step more in advance, when the animal snatched the coveted morsel and began to eat it ravenously.

“Why, it’s half-starved, Dick,” said the middy.

“Yes, sir, he tried to get a piece of Bill Black’s finger, but Bill cut up rough, and wouldn’t let him have it.”

Here there was a fresh burst of laughter, in which Bill, whose finger was, after all, only pinched, heartily joined.

“What are you going to do with him, Dick?” said Bob Roberts.

“Well, sir,” said Dick, with a dry wrinkle or two extra on his mahogany physiognomy, “I was going to ask the skipper if he’d like to have the gent for a new middy, seeing as you, sir, have got to be quite a grown man now.”

“Don’t you be cheeky, Dick,” said Bob, indignantly.

“No, sir, I won’t,” said the old sailor humbly; “but on second thoughts, which is allers the best, Mr Roberts, sir, I thought as the skipper wouldn’t have a uniform as would fit him, so I said as I’d take him on to the island, where they’d soon make a sojer of him.”

“Now look here, Dick,” said Bob, “I take no end of impudence from you, but let there be some end to it. Now then, have you done joking?”

“Yes, sir, but he would look well in a red jacket, wouldn’t he?”

“What are you going to do with the monkey?” said Bob, peremptorily.

“Well, sir,” said Dick, seeing that he had gone far enough, “I was up in the campong there, and I bought him of one of the niggers as used him to pick cokey-nuts.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Bob, derisively.

“He will,” said Dick; “and I bought him because, I says to myself, I says: Here’s just the sorter thing our doctor would be glad to have, and he’d pin a long name to him directly, and say as he’s a Blackskinnius Monkinius, or something of the kind.”

“And are you going to take it to the doctor?” said Bob.

“Yes, sir, now, directly I’ve showed you how he can pick cokey-nuts. Bill Black, mate, just step down and bring that ball o’ stout fishing-line out o’ the locker, will you?”

The sailor addressed went down, and returned directly after to Dick, who undid the chain, and tied one end of the stout fishing cord to the monkey’s strap.

The little animal had been munching away at the biscuit in a quaint semi-human fashion; but as soon as Dick had fastened one end of the cord to the belt, it seemed to know what was wanted, for it squatted upon the deck, looking intelligently up in the sailor’s face.

“There, ain’t he an old un?” said Dick. “Now then, Yusuf, be kraja.”

As the monkey heard the last two words, it sprang up the rigging to one of the great blocks, which in his mind represented the cocoa-nuts it was to bring down, and seizing one it tried hard to twist it off, chattering angrily, till Dick gave the cord a jerk, when the animal bounded to another block, and tried hard to fetch it off, going so far as to gnaw at the rope that held it, till Dick gave the cord another jerk, when it came down.

“Well done, old man,” said Dick, patting the animal, which kept close to his leg, as if feeling that it must find protection of him, when Dick took it under his arm.

“Are you going now, Dick?” said Bob, eagerly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait a moment, and let me see if I can get leave. Why, look here; the doctor’s coming aboard.”

True enough, Doctor Bolter was seen in a sampan rowed by one of the Malays, and a minute or two later he was on deck.

“Monkey, eh?” he said sharply, as he saw the animal. “Semnopithecus Maurus, I should say. What are you going to do with it?”

“Dick was going to give it to you, sir,” said Bob, smiling.

“Give it—to me?” cried the doctor. “Thanks; no, my man, I must draw the line somewhere. Keep it on board. Climb the rigging, and that sort of thing. Here, you Roberts, tell the captain I’m here.”

Bob went off, and then brought a message to the doctor, who went into the cabin. On returning to where Dick was standing, that worthy was scratching in a melancholy way at his head.

“I’m ’bout done over this here monkey, sir,” he said. “I can’t go and get the chap to take him back.”

“Keep him, and make a pet of him, Dick,” said the middy, holding out a lump of sugar to the subject of their conversation.

“No, sir, that wouldn’t do. The skipper wouldn’t stand it; and besides, if the monkey was mine the chaps would lead him such a life, teaching him to smoke tobacco and drink grog. Will you have him, sir?”

“No, Dick,” was the reply. “I’ve no money to spend on monkeys.”

“I didn’t mean that, sir,” said Dick. “I meant it for a present for the doctor. Will you have him as a present, and take care of him?”

“Of course I will, Dick, but I don’t like taking it.”

“Why, bless your ’art, Mr Roberts, sir, you’d be doing me a kindness by taking of it. You take it, and you can larn him all sorts of tricks. Why, look at the pretty crittur, how he takes to you!”

“Pretty crittur, indeed!” cried Bob. “You mean how he takes to the sugar. Here, come along, old man. Come, rouse up.”

To Bob’s surprise the monkey got up, and came close to him, while upon Dick making a motion as if to refasten the chain, the animal snarled and snapped at him.

“There now, look at that,” cried Dick. “You see you’ll have to take it, Master Roberts, sir.”

“I’ll take him for a day or two,” said Bob; “but I expect the skipper won’t let me keep it.”

“Lor’ bless you, sir, he’ll let you keep it, see if he don’t,” said the old sailor, and his words proved true.

Chapter Eighteen.How Bob Roberts went a-fishing.Bob Roberts liked having the monkey, but there was a sore side to the matter; it was unpleasant to hear that the first lieutenant had said that one monkey was enough in the ship, and they did not want two.“It’s as good as telling me to my face that I’m a monkey,” said Bob to himself. “Now look here, I shall just go and ask him to lend me the dinghy to sit in and fish, and old Dick to manage it; and if he says no, I shall just tell him that his remark about the monkey was precious ungentlemanly.”So Bob went up to the first lieutenant and preferred his request, fully anticipating a refusal, but to his surprise the officer in question was all that was urbane and pleasant.“Fishing from the dinghy, eh, Roberts?” he said, smiling.“Yes, sir, I thought I might catch a basket if I fished from the dinghy. I lose so many hauling them up the side into the chains.”“To be sure—yes—of course,” said the lieutenant. “On one condition, Roberts, you can have it.”“What’s that, sir?”“Two conditions, I should say,” replied the lieutenant. “The boat is to be properly cleaned afterwards, and we are to have a dish of fresh fish for the gun-room dinner.”“Certainly, sir,” said Bob, laughing, “if I catch them.”“You must catch them,” said the lieutenant. “Ah, I remember the days when I used to be fond of going up the Thames fishing, and—there, be off with you as soon as you like.”The first lieutenant smiled as he felt that he had been about to prose over his old days; and Bob having obtained leave for Dick to be his companion, and to manage the boat if he should elect to go up or down the river, instead of lying astern hitched on to a ring-bolt, was soon over the side, with plenty of hooks and lines and bait.“This here’s a rum sorter game, Mr Roberts, sir,” said old Dick, as soon as he had fastened the boat’s painter to a ring in the stem part of the great steamer. “I’m afraid I shan’t be strong enough for the job.”Dick glanced at the great muscles in his sun-browned arms with a smile of pride, and then stared at the middy, who turned upon him sharply.“Now look here, old Dicky,” he said, “you’ve come here to manage the dinghy for me, and not to preach and drive away all the fishes. So just light your pipe and sit still and hold your tongue, and if I find you are not strong enough to do that, I’ll hail the steamer, and ask them to send me down another hand.”Old Dick chuckled and grinned, and without more ado took out and filled a short black pipe, which he lit with a burning glass, and then sat contentedly sucking at it, while Bob, who had provided himself with a bamboo about ten feet long—a natural fishing-rod in one piece—fitted on a thin line, baited his hook, and began to fish in the deep stream.The sun poured down his rays like a shower of burning silver, and in spite of the puggaree with which he had provided himself, Bob found the heat almost too much for him, and looked enviously at old Dick, who lay back in the bows of the little cockle-shell of a boat, with his knees in, his chin pointing upwards, and his arms resting on the sides, literally basking in the hot glow.The line kept floating down with the stream, and Bob kept pulling it up and dropping it in again close to the boat, but there was no sharp tug at the bait; and after half an hour of this work a peculiar drowsy feeling began to come over the middy, the bright flashing river ran on, and the palms and attap-thatched houses on the shore began to run on too, and all looked misty and strange, till the rod was about to fall from his hand, his nodding head to rest itself upon his chest, and the first lieutenant’s basket of fish to vanish into the realm of imagination—when there was a tremendous tug, and Bob started into wakefulness, with his bamboo bending nearly double, and some large fish making the line hiss through the water as it darted here and there.The contest was short and furious. Any doubts in the middy’s mind as to the existence of fish in the river were gone, for he had hooked a monster. Now it was rushing up towards the surface, now diving down so deeply that the top of Bob’s bamboo dipped in the water, and then it was sailing up and down stream, anywhere in fact, but never giving the excited lad a chance of seeing what it was like.“Had I better go in arter him, sir?” said Dick, grinning.“I don’t know, Dick. I think—oh, I say, look at that!”Thatwas Bob’s line hanging limply from his straight bamboo, for there was a furious rush, a dull twang, and the fish had gone.“He was a big ’un, sir,” said Dick, refilling his pipe. “Never mind. Try another, sir; better luck next time.”Bob sighed as he fitted on a fresh lead and hook, and was soon fishing once more, thoroughly awake now; and to his great delight he felt a sharp tug at his line, and striking, found that he had hooked a fish of a manageable size, which he soon hauled into the boat, and recognised as theikan sambilang, a fish frequently sold to them by the Malays, and esteemed quite a delicacy.“It’s a rum-looking one,” said Dick, examining the captive as Bob put on a fresh bait. “It’s just like one of the eel pouts as we boys used to ketch down in the drains in Yorkshire.”“In the drains, Dick?”“Oh, I don’t mean your drains. I mean land drains as take the water off a country. We used to catch lots on ’em, thick, short, fat fellows, but they hadn’t got a lot of long beards like these here. What, another already!”“Yes, and a big one too,” said Bob, excitedly, as he lugged out, after a sharp tussle, a handsome fish, with glistening scales, and a sharp back fin, bearing some resemblance to a perch.“That’s the way, sir,” said Dick, smoking contentedly in the bows. “I like fishing arter all.”Bob smiled, and went on catching the little barbed fish, rapidly, and every now and then a good-sized fellow of a different kind. Two or three of the men came and leaned over the side to watch them for a few minutes, but the heat seemed too much for their interest to be kept up, and they soon disappeared.There was a little audience on the further bank, though, which watched Bob’s fishing without ceasing, though unseen by the young fisherman. This audience consisted of three half-nude Malays, lying in a sampan hidden amidst the reeds of the river’s side, and these men seemed greatly interested in all that was going on, till, as the evening drew near, Bob, who had captured at least sixty fish of various sizes, sat at last completely overcome by the heat, and following Dick’s example, for that worthy had gone off fast asleep, and Bob’s bamboo dipped in the water, the line unbaited, and offering no temptations to the hungry perch. That was the time for which the Malays in the sampan had been waiting, and one of them glided over the side like a short thick snake, reached the shore, and then making his way up stream for some little distance, he softly plunged in, with nothing but a kris in his lingouti, or string round the waist used by the natives to support their loin cloths, and after swimming boldly out for some distance, turned over, and floated with just his nose above the water.The stream did all he required, for the Malay had calculated his distance to a nicety, so that he was borne unseen right to the steamer’s bows, and then floated along her side, and round the stem, where a few strokes brought him into the eddy.Dick and the fisherman slept on soundly, so that they did not see a brown hand holding a keen kris raised from the water to divide the boat’s painter, neither did they see that the same hand held on by the cut rope, and that the dinghy was floating, with its strange companion, swiftly down the stream.At the end of five minutes it had been swept round a bend, and was out of sight of the steamer.So likewise was the sampan from which the Malay had come, while one of its occupants steered it into the dinghy’s course, and the other crouched in the forward part with a keen-headed limbing or spear.

Bob Roberts liked having the monkey, but there was a sore side to the matter; it was unpleasant to hear that the first lieutenant had said that one monkey was enough in the ship, and they did not want two.

“It’s as good as telling me to my face that I’m a monkey,” said Bob to himself. “Now look here, I shall just go and ask him to lend me the dinghy to sit in and fish, and old Dick to manage it; and if he says no, I shall just tell him that his remark about the monkey was precious ungentlemanly.”

So Bob went up to the first lieutenant and preferred his request, fully anticipating a refusal, but to his surprise the officer in question was all that was urbane and pleasant.

“Fishing from the dinghy, eh, Roberts?” he said, smiling.

“Yes, sir, I thought I might catch a basket if I fished from the dinghy. I lose so many hauling them up the side into the chains.”

“To be sure—yes—of course,” said the lieutenant. “On one condition, Roberts, you can have it.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Two conditions, I should say,” replied the lieutenant. “The boat is to be properly cleaned afterwards, and we are to have a dish of fresh fish for the gun-room dinner.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Bob, laughing, “if I catch them.”

“You must catch them,” said the lieutenant. “Ah, I remember the days when I used to be fond of going up the Thames fishing, and—there, be off with you as soon as you like.”

The first lieutenant smiled as he felt that he had been about to prose over his old days; and Bob having obtained leave for Dick to be his companion, and to manage the boat if he should elect to go up or down the river, instead of lying astern hitched on to a ring-bolt, was soon over the side, with plenty of hooks and lines and bait.

“This here’s a rum sorter game, Mr Roberts, sir,” said old Dick, as soon as he had fastened the boat’s painter to a ring in the stem part of the great steamer. “I’m afraid I shan’t be strong enough for the job.”

Dick glanced at the great muscles in his sun-browned arms with a smile of pride, and then stared at the middy, who turned upon him sharply.

“Now look here, old Dicky,” he said, “you’ve come here to manage the dinghy for me, and not to preach and drive away all the fishes. So just light your pipe and sit still and hold your tongue, and if I find you are not strong enough to do that, I’ll hail the steamer, and ask them to send me down another hand.”

Old Dick chuckled and grinned, and without more ado took out and filled a short black pipe, which he lit with a burning glass, and then sat contentedly sucking at it, while Bob, who had provided himself with a bamboo about ten feet long—a natural fishing-rod in one piece—fitted on a thin line, baited his hook, and began to fish in the deep stream.

The sun poured down his rays like a shower of burning silver, and in spite of the puggaree with which he had provided himself, Bob found the heat almost too much for him, and looked enviously at old Dick, who lay back in the bows of the little cockle-shell of a boat, with his knees in, his chin pointing upwards, and his arms resting on the sides, literally basking in the hot glow.

The line kept floating down with the stream, and Bob kept pulling it up and dropping it in again close to the boat, but there was no sharp tug at the bait; and after half an hour of this work a peculiar drowsy feeling began to come over the middy, the bright flashing river ran on, and the palms and attap-thatched houses on the shore began to run on too, and all looked misty and strange, till the rod was about to fall from his hand, his nodding head to rest itself upon his chest, and the first lieutenant’s basket of fish to vanish into the realm of imagination—when there was a tremendous tug, and Bob started into wakefulness, with his bamboo bending nearly double, and some large fish making the line hiss through the water as it darted here and there.

The contest was short and furious. Any doubts in the middy’s mind as to the existence of fish in the river were gone, for he had hooked a monster. Now it was rushing up towards the surface, now diving down so deeply that the top of Bob’s bamboo dipped in the water, and then it was sailing up and down stream, anywhere in fact, but never giving the excited lad a chance of seeing what it was like.

“Had I better go in arter him, sir?” said Dick, grinning.

“I don’t know, Dick. I think—oh, I say, look at that!”

Thatwas Bob’s line hanging limply from his straight bamboo, for there was a furious rush, a dull twang, and the fish had gone.

“He was a big ’un, sir,” said Dick, refilling his pipe. “Never mind. Try another, sir; better luck next time.”

Bob sighed as he fitted on a fresh lead and hook, and was soon fishing once more, thoroughly awake now; and to his great delight he felt a sharp tug at his line, and striking, found that he had hooked a fish of a manageable size, which he soon hauled into the boat, and recognised as theikan sambilang, a fish frequently sold to them by the Malays, and esteemed quite a delicacy.

“It’s a rum-looking one,” said Dick, examining the captive as Bob put on a fresh bait. “It’s just like one of the eel pouts as we boys used to ketch down in the drains in Yorkshire.”

“In the drains, Dick?”

“Oh, I don’t mean your drains. I mean land drains as take the water off a country. We used to catch lots on ’em, thick, short, fat fellows, but they hadn’t got a lot of long beards like these here. What, another already!”

“Yes, and a big one too,” said Bob, excitedly, as he lugged out, after a sharp tussle, a handsome fish, with glistening scales, and a sharp back fin, bearing some resemblance to a perch.

“That’s the way, sir,” said Dick, smoking contentedly in the bows. “I like fishing arter all.”

Bob smiled, and went on catching the little barbed fish, rapidly, and every now and then a good-sized fellow of a different kind. Two or three of the men came and leaned over the side to watch them for a few minutes, but the heat seemed too much for their interest to be kept up, and they soon disappeared.

There was a little audience on the further bank, though, which watched Bob’s fishing without ceasing, though unseen by the young fisherman. This audience consisted of three half-nude Malays, lying in a sampan hidden amidst the reeds of the river’s side, and these men seemed greatly interested in all that was going on, till, as the evening drew near, Bob, who had captured at least sixty fish of various sizes, sat at last completely overcome by the heat, and following Dick’s example, for that worthy had gone off fast asleep, and Bob’s bamboo dipped in the water, the line unbaited, and offering no temptations to the hungry perch. That was the time for which the Malays in the sampan had been waiting, and one of them glided over the side like a short thick snake, reached the shore, and then making his way up stream for some little distance, he softly plunged in, with nothing but a kris in his lingouti, or string round the waist used by the natives to support their loin cloths, and after swimming boldly out for some distance, turned over, and floated with just his nose above the water.

The stream did all he required, for the Malay had calculated his distance to a nicety, so that he was borne unseen right to the steamer’s bows, and then floated along her side, and round the stem, where a few strokes brought him into the eddy.

Dick and the fisherman slept on soundly, so that they did not see a brown hand holding a keen kris raised from the water to divide the boat’s painter, neither did they see that the same hand held on by the cut rope, and that the dinghy was floating, with its strange companion, swiftly down the stream.

At the end of five minutes it had been swept round a bend, and was out of sight of the steamer.

So likewise was the sampan from which the Malay had come, while one of its occupants steered it into the dinghy’s course, and the other crouched in the forward part with a keen-headed limbing or spear.

Chapter Nineteen.How Bob and Old Dick finished their Day.The very motion of the boat lulled its occupants into a deeper sleep as they glided on and on down the swift deep river, with the tall waving palms and the dark undergrowth ever slipping by the travellers, who had embarked now upon a journey whose end was death.The sampan floated quietly on in attendance, and the Malay, whose hand was twisted in the boat’s painter, kept beneath the bows of the little boat with merely his face above water, the dinghy now floating down stern foremost, and, having been guided into the swiftest part of the stream, always faster and faster towards its journey’s end.Utterly unconscious of danger, and dreaming comfortably of being in a land of unlimited do-nothingism, Dick’s head lay across the gunwale of the boat in terrible proximity to the Malay’s kris; while Bob, with his chin on his chest, was far away in his old home, in a punt of which he had lost the pole, and it was being whirled along faster and faster through the shallows towards the mill down at the bend of the river.He was very comfortable, and in spite of an uneasy position his sleep was very sweet, unconscious as he was of anything having the semblance of danger.And now the dinghy was a good half mile below where the steamer was moored. They had passed the last house standing on its stout bamboo props, some distance above, and the river had curved twice in its bed, so that they had long been concealed from any one upon the deck, and still the Malays hesitated, or rather waited the time to make their spring. They had no special enmity against the occupants of the dinghy in particular, but they were three of the most daring followers of Rajah Gantang, who had assumed the part of fishermen in a sampan, with a rough cast net, so as to hang about the neighbourhood of the “Startler,” and pick up information for their chief, who, so far from being, with his two prahus,hors de combat, was merely lying-up in a creek hidden by bamboos and palms, awaiting his time to take deadly vengeance upon the destroyers of his stockade and miners of his income from the passing boats.The opportunity of cutting off a couple of the hated infidels who had forced themselves into the peaceful country, where their rajah, like many another, had been free to carry on a happy lawless existence, cutting throats, selling slaves, committing acts of piracy, and indulging in every vile and sensuous custom, was one not to be lost. Rajah Gantang wanted no peace, or order, or prosperity in the land where he could seize on the wretched people, and make them pay him in gold, tin, rice, poultry, fruit, or any precious commodity, for the right to pass down the river, which he, and a few more of his stamp, looked upon as theirs by right; so that his three followers were certain to receive praise and reward for the proof they might be able to show of the death of a couple of the giaours.For the Malays are good Mohammedans, and look upon the slaying of a Christian as a most meritorious act, but at the same time they were too cautious to endanger their plot or their own lives by undue haste.Hence it came about that the dinghy was allowed to drift down a good three quarters of a mile before the Malays made any attempt, when, as the sampan closed up, and the man in her bows raised his limbing to throw, the savage in the water reached up one hand to Dick’s shoulder, and struck at him with the other.The blow from the kris and the hurling of the spear took place at one and the same moment, but the touch of the Malay’s hand upon his shoulder made Dick leap up with such a sudden start that the aim was baffled, and the boat rocked so violently that the spear whizzed by Bob Roberts’ head, and plunged into the water.In a moment more Dick had seized the little scull that lay in the dinghy, and struck the Malay in the river so severe a blow on the head that the man went under, to rise again a few yards away, and then paddle feebly towards the sampan, whose occupants, spear in hand, now made a desperate attack upon those they meant to make their prey.Bob Roberts never quite knew how it all took place, but he had a lively recollection of old Dick standing up in the boat, sweeping the little oar round his head, and striking fiercely at the men who thrust at him with their spears.It was a most unequal encounter, for while the Malays were upon comparatively substantial ground, the dinghy rocked to andfro, and it only needed the hand of the half-drowned Malay to catch at the side, in a frantic effort to save his life, to send it right over, and Bob and the English sailor into the stream.Bob felt that his minutes were numbered, for as he struck out for the shore the Malays in the sampan uttered a savage yell, and came in pursuit.Dick swam to his side on the instant, and the dinghy went floating away with the half-drowned Malay, while now the sampan was close after them, and as one of their enemies rowed, the other stood in the bows ready to thrust at them with his spear.“Swim away, my lad,” cried old Dick, hoarsely, “and get ashore, I’m only an old ’un, and I’ll get a grip of his spiker if I can.”“No, no, Dick, keep with me,” panted Bob, who saw in Dick’s words a determination on the brave old fellow’s part to sacrifice his life that he might live.“No, my lad, it’s no use. Swim on,” cried Dick, “they’re here. Tell the skipper I did my dooty like a man.”As he bravely shouted these words in his excitement, he turned to face his enemies, the Malay with the limbing thrusting savagely at him.But Dick was quick enough to strike the limbing aside, and grasp it with both hands, when a struggle for its possession took place.It was a futile effort, though, upon Dick’s part, for the other Malay dropped his oar, and picking up another spear, came to his comrade’s help.Bob was paralysed, and the desire was upon him to shut his eyes, and escape seeing the death of the brave old sailor, who was giving his life to save his young officer; but in place of closing his eyes, the middy felt that he was forced to hold them open, and fixed them upon the terrible scene; and his lips parted to utter a cry of warning, when, just as the third Malay was about to deliver his thrust, to avert which Dick was powerless, there was a sharp whizzing noise through the air, accompanied by a loud report, and then another whizzing, and a second report.Bob turned his head to see the smoke rising from above a good-sized naga, or dragon-boat, coming up the stream, and at the sight thereof the Malays seized their oars, gave the sampan a sharp impulse which brought them within reach of their comrade, and after helping him on board, they rowed off with all their might, with the dragon-boat coming up fast.But the naga had to stop and pick up the middy and Dick who had swum, as soon as they were free from enemies, towards the dinghy, which they reached as the dragon-boat came up.“Are you hurt?” said a voice in English, and a delicate hand was stretched down from the naga’s side to help Bob in, where, as he sank down panting, he recognised Ali, the young Malay chief.“No: only half-drowned. But Dick—save Dick.”“I’m all right, Mr Roberts, sir,” said the old sailor, hoarsely; “and the dinghy’s made fast astern.”“But are you speared, Dick?” said the middy.“Not as I knows on, sir. I ain’t felt nothing at present, but I don’t say as I ain’t got a hole in me somewheres.”“They’ll get away,” said Ali, just then, as he stood up with a double gun in his hand. “Only small shot,” he said, tapping the stock. “I have no bullets.”As he spoke he clapped the piece to his shoulder and fired twice rapidly, as the Malays in the sampan seemed to dive through a screen of reeds into some creek beyond.The pattering hail of straggling small shot hastened their movements, and then Bob proceeded to thank the young chief for saving their lives, explaining to him, as far as he knew, how it was that they had fallen into such a plight.“You must take more care,” said Ali, in a low voice. “Our people would not harm you; we are friends, but plenty hate you much. But you are safe.”“Yes,” said Bob, who, with all the elasticity of youth, was fast recovering himself, “we are quite safe; and the fish are there too. I say, though, old chap, I am so much obliged.”“Oh, no,” said the young Malay, laughing, as he coloured through his brown skin; “it is nothing. I saw a wretch trying to do harm, and I fired at him with small duck shot. You would do the same.”“Yes, and with bigger shot too if I had a chance,” said Bob excitedly, as he proceeded to wring all the water he could out of his clothes, for now the excitement was over he felt slightly chilly.Meanwhile the boatmen were rowing steadily up stream, it having been seen to be useless to attempt pursuit of the Malays in the sampan, and they were rapidly nearing the steamer.“’Scuse me, Mr Roberts, sir,” said Dick, who was very wet and spongy, “but your knife’s littler than mine, and if you’d pick a few o’ these here small shot outer my arms, I’d feel obliged.”Examination showed that Dick had received quite a dozen shots in his arms and chest. They had just buried themselves beneath the skin, and were easily extracted by means of an open knife, after which Dick declared himself to be much better.“They’ve give them Malay chaps a tickling, I know,” he cried, laughing. “I’m such a thick-skinned ’un, I am, that they only just got through. I’ll bet an even penny they’ve gone a good inch into them niggers.”The boat now reached the steamer, where, after a warm and hearty parting, Bob stepped into the dinghy with Dick, and the remains of the painter were made fast to the cut fragment hanging from the ring.“Now, if you’ll take my advice, Mr Roberts,” said the old sailor, “you’ll step up and get to your berth, and change your togs, while I get out the fish and wash the dinghy. Being wet won’t hurt me. What’s more is, as I shouldn’t say nought about the scrimmage; specially as we’re not hurt, or you won’t get leave again.”“But you are hurt, Dick.”“Bah! Don’t call that hurt, dear lad. I’m as right as nine-pence. You go on, and think about what I’ve said.”“I will, Dick,” said Bob; “but take care of the fish.”“Ay, ay, sir.”“But I say, Dick.”“Ay, ay, sir.”“How did the dinghy get loose? You must have gone to sleep.”Dick rubbed his ear. “Well, sir, suttunly I think I must have shut one eye; but how the dinghy got loose is more than I can say, unless them spiteful niggers cut us adrift. But you get aboard. We ain’t been missed.”But Dick was wrong: they had been missed, and the sentry had reported the coming of the naga-boat; so that as soon as Bob had changed his wet clothes for dry, he had to go to the captain’s cabin and relate the whole affair. Those on board merely supposing that they had gone down the river to fish, it was a remark made aloud by the young chief Ali that had started a train of ideas in the first lieutenant’s head that something was wrong.“Ah,” said Captain Horton, “that was well done of the young chief. But it seems to me that we’ve a lot of ugly scoundrels about to deal with, and we must take care, gentlemen, we must take care.”“Yes, Captain Horton,” said the first lieutenant, “and we will. But are there no fish there for us, Roberts, eh?” he continued.“Yes, sir, there are,” said Bob. “I’ve caught you a capital dish. And very nearly got turned into ground bait for my pains,” he said to himself, as he went out to find Dick. “I say, Dick,” he said, as he met him with the basket of fish, “did you think about crocodiles when you were in the water?”“No, sir, never once; there was too much to think about beside.”“So there was, Dick,” said Bob. “There’s sixpence: go and ask them to give you a glass of grog to keep out the cold, but first change your things. I’ll take the fish.”“Right, sir,” said Dick: but he finished the dinghy first, said that there’d be a row about the cut painter, and then had his glass of grog before he changed his things.

The very motion of the boat lulled its occupants into a deeper sleep as they glided on and on down the swift deep river, with the tall waving palms and the dark undergrowth ever slipping by the travellers, who had embarked now upon a journey whose end was death.

The sampan floated quietly on in attendance, and the Malay, whose hand was twisted in the boat’s painter, kept beneath the bows of the little boat with merely his face above water, the dinghy now floating down stern foremost, and, having been guided into the swiftest part of the stream, always faster and faster towards its journey’s end.

Utterly unconscious of danger, and dreaming comfortably of being in a land of unlimited do-nothingism, Dick’s head lay across the gunwale of the boat in terrible proximity to the Malay’s kris; while Bob, with his chin on his chest, was far away in his old home, in a punt of which he had lost the pole, and it was being whirled along faster and faster through the shallows towards the mill down at the bend of the river.

He was very comfortable, and in spite of an uneasy position his sleep was very sweet, unconscious as he was of anything having the semblance of danger.

And now the dinghy was a good half mile below where the steamer was moored. They had passed the last house standing on its stout bamboo props, some distance above, and the river had curved twice in its bed, so that they had long been concealed from any one upon the deck, and still the Malays hesitated, or rather waited the time to make their spring. They had no special enmity against the occupants of the dinghy in particular, but they were three of the most daring followers of Rajah Gantang, who had assumed the part of fishermen in a sampan, with a rough cast net, so as to hang about the neighbourhood of the “Startler,” and pick up information for their chief, who, so far from being, with his two prahus,hors de combat, was merely lying-up in a creek hidden by bamboos and palms, awaiting his time to take deadly vengeance upon the destroyers of his stockade and miners of his income from the passing boats.

The opportunity of cutting off a couple of the hated infidels who had forced themselves into the peaceful country, where their rajah, like many another, had been free to carry on a happy lawless existence, cutting throats, selling slaves, committing acts of piracy, and indulging in every vile and sensuous custom, was one not to be lost. Rajah Gantang wanted no peace, or order, or prosperity in the land where he could seize on the wretched people, and make them pay him in gold, tin, rice, poultry, fruit, or any precious commodity, for the right to pass down the river, which he, and a few more of his stamp, looked upon as theirs by right; so that his three followers were certain to receive praise and reward for the proof they might be able to show of the death of a couple of the giaours.

For the Malays are good Mohammedans, and look upon the slaying of a Christian as a most meritorious act, but at the same time they were too cautious to endanger their plot or their own lives by undue haste.

Hence it came about that the dinghy was allowed to drift down a good three quarters of a mile before the Malays made any attempt, when, as the sampan closed up, and the man in her bows raised his limbing to throw, the savage in the water reached up one hand to Dick’s shoulder, and struck at him with the other.

The blow from the kris and the hurling of the spear took place at one and the same moment, but the touch of the Malay’s hand upon his shoulder made Dick leap up with such a sudden start that the aim was baffled, and the boat rocked so violently that the spear whizzed by Bob Roberts’ head, and plunged into the water.

In a moment more Dick had seized the little scull that lay in the dinghy, and struck the Malay in the river so severe a blow on the head that the man went under, to rise again a few yards away, and then paddle feebly towards the sampan, whose occupants, spear in hand, now made a desperate attack upon those they meant to make their prey.

Bob Roberts never quite knew how it all took place, but he had a lively recollection of old Dick standing up in the boat, sweeping the little oar round his head, and striking fiercely at the men who thrust at him with their spears.

It was a most unequal encounter, for while the Malays were upon comparatively substantial ground, the dinghy rocked to andfro, and it only needed the hand of the half-drowned Malay to catch at the side, in a frantic effort to save his life, to send it right over, and Bob and the English sailor into the stream.

Bob felt that his minutes were numbered, for as he struck out for the shore the Malays in the sampan uttered a savage yell, and came in pursuit.

Dick swam to his side on the instant, and the dinghy went floating away with the half-drowned Malay, while now the sampan was close after them, and as one of their enemies rowed, the other stood in the bows ready to thrust at them with his spear.

“Swim away, my lad,” cried old Dick, hoarsely, “and get ashore, I’m only an old ’un, and I’ll get a grip of his spiker if I can.”

“No, no, Dick, keep with me,” panted Bob, who saw in Dick’s words a determination on the brave old fellow’s part to sacrifice his life that he might live.

“No, my lad, it’s no use. Swim on,” cried Dick, “they’re here. Tell the skipper I did my dooty like a man.”

As he bravely shouted these words in his excitement, he turned to face his enemies, the Malay with the limbing thrusting savagely at him.

But Dick was quick enough to strike the limbing aside, and grasp it with both hands, when a struggle for its possession took place.

It was a futile effort, though, upon Dick’s part, for the other Malay dropped his oar, and picking up another spear, came to his comrade’s help.

Bob was paralysed, and the desire was upon him to shut his eyes, and escape seeing the death of the brave old sailor, who was giving his life to save his young officer; but in place of closing his eyes, the middy felt that he was forced to hold them open, and fixed them upon the terrible scene; and his lips parted to utter a cry of warning, when, just as the third Malay was about to deliver his thrust, to avert which Dick was powerless, there was a sharp whizzing noise through the air, accompanied by a loud report, and then another whizzing, and a second report.

Bob turned his head to see the smoke rising from above a good-sized naga, or dragon-boat, coming up the stream, and at the sight thereof the Malays seized their oars, gave the sampan a sharp impulse which brought them within reach of their comrade, and after helping him on board, they rowed off with all their might, with the dragon-boat coming up fast.

But the naga had to stop and pick up the middy and Dick who had swum, as soon as they were free from enemies, towards the dinghy, which they reached as the dragon-boat came up.

“Are you hurt?” said a voice in English, and a delicate hand was stretched down from the naga’s side to help Bob in, where, as he sank down panting, he recognised Ali, the young Malay chief.

“No: only half-drowned. But Dick—save Dick.”

“I’m all right, Mr Roberts, sir,” said the old sailor, hoarsely; “and the dinghy’s made fast astern.”

“But are you speared, Dick?” said the middy.

“Not as I knows on, sir. I ain’t felt nothing at present, but I don’t say as I ain’t got a hole in me somewheres.”

“They’ll get away,” said Ali, just then, as he stood up with a double gun in his hand. “Only small shot,” he said, tapping the stock. “I have no bullets.”

As he spoke he clapped the piece to his shoulder and fired twice rapidly, as the Malays in the sampan seemed to dive through a screen of reeds into some creek beyond.

The pattering hail of straggling small shot hastened their movements, and then Bob proceeded to thank the young chief for saving their lives, explaining to him, as far as he knew, how it was that they had fallen into such a plight.

“You must take more care,” said Ali, in a low voice. “Our people would not harm you; we are friends, but plenty hate you much. But you are safe.”

“Yes,” said Bob, who, with all the elasticity of youth, was fast recovering himself, “we are quite safe; and the fish are there too. I say, though, old chap, I am so much obliged.”

“Oh, no,” said the young Malay, laughing, as he coloured through his brown skin; “it is nothing. I saw a wretch trying to do harm, and I fired at him with small duck shot. You would do the same.”

“Yes, and with bigger shot too if I had a chance,” said Bob excitedly, as he proceeded to wring all the water he could out of his clothes, for now the excitement was over he felt slightly chilly.

Meanwhile the boatmen were rowing steadily up stream, it having been seen to be useless to attempt pursuit of the Malays in the sampan, and they were rapidly nearing the steamer.

“’Scuse me, Mr Roberts, sir,” said Dick, who was very wet and spongy, “but your knife’s littler than mine, and if you’d pick a few o’ these here small shot outer my arms, I’d feel obliged.”

Examination showed that Dick had received quite a dozen shots in his arms and chest. They had just buried themselves beneath the skin, and were easily extracted by means of an open knife, after which Dick declared himself to be much better.

“They’ve give them Malay chaps a tickling, I know,” he cried, laughing. “I’m such a thick-skinned ’un, I am, that they only just got through. I’ll bet an even penny they’ve gone a good inch into them niggers.”

The boat now reached the steamer, where, after a warm and hearty parting, Bob stepped into the dinghy with Dick, and the remains of the painter were made fast to the cut fragment hanging from the ring.

“Now, if you’ll take my advice, Mr Roberts,” said the old sailor, “you’ll step up and get to your berth, and change your togs, while I get out the fish and wash the dinghy. Being wet won’t hurt me. What’s more is, as I shouldn’t say nought about the scrimmage; specially as we’re not hurt, or you won’t get leave again.”

“But you are hurt, Dick.”

“Bah! Don’t call that hurt, dear lad. I’m as right as nine-pence. You go on, and think about what I’ve said.”

“I will, Dick,” said Bob; “but take care of the fish.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“But I say, Dick.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“How did the dinghy get loose? You must have gone to sleep.”

Dick rubbed his ear. “Well, sir, suttunly I think I must have shut one eye; but how the dinghy got loose is more than I can say, unless them spiteful niggers cut us adrift. But you get aboard. We ain’t been missed.”

But Dick was wrong: they had been missed, and the sentry had reported the coming of the naga-boat; so that as soon as Bob had changed his wet clothes for dry, he had to go to the captain’s cabin and relate the whole affair. Those on board merely supposing that they had gone down the river to fish, it was a remark made aloud by the young chief Ali that had started a train of ideas in the first lieutenant’s head that something was wrong.

“Ah,” said Captain Horton, “that was well done of the young chief. But it seems to me that we’ve a lot of ugly scoundrels about to deal with, and we must take care, gentlemen, we must take care.”

“Yes, Captain Horton,” said the first lieutenant, “and we will. But are there no fish there for us, Roberts, eh?” he continued.

“Yes, sir, there are,” said Bob. “I’ve caught you a capital dish. And very nearly got turned into ground bait for my pains,” he said to himself, as he went out to find Dick. “I say, Dick,” he said, as he met him with the basket of fish, “did you think about crocodiles when you were in the water?”

“No, sir, never once; there was too much to think about beside.”

“So there was, Dick,” said Bob. “There’s sixpence: go and ask them to give you a glass of grog to keep out the cold, but first change your things. I’ll take the fish.”

“Right, sir,” said Dick: but he finished the dinghy first, said that there’d be a row about the cut painter, and then had his glass of grog before he changed his things.

Chapter Twenty.A Run after a Rajah.Fresh news reached the residency the next day from the sultan, who sent word that he had had a very threatening letter from Rajah Gantang, declaring that if he did not break at once with the English, ruin, destruction, and death would be his fate before many months had passed.This threatening language had completely upset the sultan, so the chief who bore the message said, and he begged that his friends and allies, the English, would not let him suffer for his fidelity to them; and when asked what he wished done, the chief replied that while Rajah Gantang lived there would be no peace, for the rajah’s emissaries were in every part of the country, ready to carry news, to rise on their lord’s behalf, even to assassinate, should their orders be to that extent.The result of all this was a promise that the rajah should be found, if possible, though how it was to be done the resident could not say.Just in the nick of time a good-sized prahu came down the river, and on anchoring by the steamer her captain went on board, with a pitiful tale of how he had been treated higher up the river.Believing the rajah’s power to be broken, he had been on his way down, laden with a good cargo of tin, when he was summoned by a prahu to stop. This he refused to do, not knowing who summoned him, when he was attacked by a party from the prahu, two of those on board were killed, and he himself severely wounded.In proof of his assertions he displayed a spear wound in his arm and the stab of a kris in his shoulder.Doctor Bolter was sent for, and the master of the prahu had his wounds dressed, after which he implored the help of Captain Horton to recover the slabs of tin that had been taken from his boat, almost ruining him, so severe was the loss.The news that one of the prahus was about, up the river, set the ship’s company on thequi viveonce more. The master of the prahu, having been robbed of his cargo, had no farther aim, and was glad enough to offer his services as guide. When asked as to the depth of the river, he declared that the steamer could ascend for another twenty miles, so it was decided to make a fresh expedition against this disturber of the country; but the whole of the plans were kept a profound secret, lest the time and arrangements of the party should again be conveyed to the rajah by some one or other of his spies.Preparations were quietly made, then, and fifty men from the island taken on board the steamer, a few at a time, so as not to attract notice; and when at last the expeditionary party started, the occupants of the residency were dining with Major and Mrs Sandars at the officers’ quarters, where they quietly stayed.Steam had been got up before dark, and every preparation made, for this time the “Startler” was to go up stream: and at last, when night rapidly succeeded day, as it does in the tropics, the steamer lay waiting for the rising of the moon, and then her screw slowly revolved, and she began to feel her way gently against the swift stream—the people of the campong only seeing her at nightfall moored as usual, and not awaking to the fact that she had gone until the morning, of course far too late to give any warning to the rajah if they were so disposed.Patiently and almost silently the great steamer forced its way on for quite a mile, when, there being no fear now of being heard, the propeller revolved more rapidly, and the waves made by the vessel ran washing the roots of the trees on either side.The moon was just at its full, and seemed as it rose to silver the tops of the trees, while it left the river in utter darkness, though it marked out its course through the dense jungle where it seemed to have to cut its way, the great trees growing to the water’s edge, and overhanging the stream.A rapid rate was impossible, on account of the way in which the river wound about; but it kept so wide and deep that there was but little difficulty in its navigation, especially as not a single craft of any kind was encountered.The master of the prahu pointed out a couple of campongs as they passed them, on the banks; but they might have been villages of the dead, so silent and unoccupied did they seem, as the steamer slowly glided by.The moon rose higher and higher, till the river was like a broad path of silver, and along this they continued their course with a man constantly sounding from the chains, but always to show an average depth of about four fathoms, with a thick, soft, muddy bottom, upon which the steamer could have met with no harm had she taken the ground.Silence had been ordered, but as the Jacks and soldiers sat beneath the shelter of the bulwarks, or leaned over and watched the smooth, silvery river, they conversed in low whispers about the expedition, and wondered what luck was to attend them now.The plan was evident to all, it was intended to spare the men all the risk they could, by getting the steamer within range of the prahus, and sinking them with her big guns. If this could not be done, through the shallowing of the river, of course the boats would have to continue the journey up stream; but even then it was Captain Horton’s intention to make use of the boat-guns as much as possible, and save the men from the disadvantages of boarding vessels that were so carefully protected.Higher up the river still, and past the stockade, whose remains showed plainly in the soft moonlight. Ever and again strange noises could be heard from the jungle on either side, as the various denizens of the thick tangle of vegetation were alarmed by the throb and rush of the steamer, with its strange wave that rushed up to the bank, and startled many a nocturnal creature from its lurking-place, where it lay watching in search of prey.To Bob Roberts’ great delight, he found that Tom Long was one of the party, for, being declared well enough by the doctor, he had put in a sort of claim, as having been of the last force, to a right to belong to this.This was conceded to him by Major Sandars, and he was burning to distinguish himself, if he could obtain a chance.Very formidable he seemed, with his sword ground to the keenest possible edge, and a revolver in his belt; though in appearance Bob Roberts was scarcely less offensive in the way of weapons, as he took pains to show his friend.It must have been close upon midnight, when the man in the chains, who had continued to take soundings, announced by degrees the shallowing of the river.For quite twenty miles it had kept to its muddy bottom and uniform depth, but during the past half-hour the mud had given place to clean-washed gravel, the depth grew less, and at last the anchor was let go, for it was not considered safe to proceed farther. But it was not until there was less than a foot of water beneath the vessel that the order was given; while even then there was so much way upon the steamer that she touched upon the gravel lightly before she gradually settled back and swung to her cable.Quickly and silently four boats were lowered, each containing twenty men, and at the word of command the party, under the joint command of Lieutenant Johnson and Captain Smithers, pushed off, with the good wishes of all left on board.The master of the prahu was in the foremost boat, and according to his account they were still about a couple of miles below where the attack took place, he having been mistaken about the steamer’s draught of water. His opinion was that both the prahus would be found lying in the Qualla, or mouth of a river higher up, and towards this point the boats steadily ascended without any undue bustle, for the object of the officers in charge was to get the men up to the point fresh and ready for the task in hand.Each boat carried a gun running on slides, and upon the proper service of these guns depended a good deal of the success of the expedition.They had been rowing steadily on for above half an hour, when suddenly from their left a bright line of light cut the black darkness of the forest, and was followed by a sharp report.For a moment the course of the boats was checked, and one was directed to pull in and see who the enemy might be, but directly after there was another report a couple of hundred yards higher up, and then another, and another.“Catch a weasel asleep,” said Lieutenant Johnson, grimly; “that signal will run right up to the prahus. We’ve got to deal with some one who has his wits about him.”So indeed it proved; for a quarter of an hour later, as they still pushed steadily on in line, there came a warning from the first boat in the shape of a dull heavy report, and the other boats sheered out of the right line, ready to deliver their own fire.For plainly enough, though wearing a grey shadowy appearance, a couple of prahus could be seen coming swiftly down the stream, the long rows of oars on either side beating the water with a wonderfully regular stroke, and sending them along at quite a startling rate.Shot after shot was fired, but with what effect the occupants of the boats could not tell, for no heed was paid to the firing, save that the prahus seemed to increase their speed, and were steered so as to run down the enemy that tried to check their way.It was a matter of little more than a minute from the first sighting of the vessels, each of which was five or six times the size of the largest boats, and their disappearance round the point below, with the water foaming behind them, and the English boats in full pursuit. Several shots had been fired, for each boat found its opportunity at last, and the firing was kept up till the enemy had gone.The attempt to overtake them was, however, felt to be hopeless, for the prahus went at least two yards to the boats’ one; all the officers could hope was, that one of the shots had done irreparable mischief, or that, warned by the firing, the steamer would sink them as they passed.More they could not have done; for to have remained still was to have been sunk, the prahus dashing down at a fearful rate, and evidently seeking a collision; so, angry and disappointed, the pursuit was kept up, every ear being attent for the first shot sent at the enemy’s boats by the steamer; but they waited in vain, for when at last they came within challenging distance, it was to find that no prahus had been seen.“Was a strict watch kept, sir?” asked Lieutenant Johnson, sharply.“Yes, of course,” said Captain Horton. “I have been on deck with my night-glass ever since you started, and as soon as we heard your guns the men stood ready, lanyard in hand, to fire at any vessel that tried to pass.”“Then they must have gone off through some side stream, and come out into the river lower down.”Captain Horton stamped his foot with rage, but nothing could be done until morning; for if the steamer had set off at once, it might have been only to pass the prahus in the darkness of some creek.Morning then was impatiently awaited, and at the first streak of daylight a couple of boats at once set off, to find a side branch of the river about a mile above the steamer, and that it came out in the main stream once more, half a mile lower down.They rowed through it to find the current swift and deep, though the place resembled a narrow canal. It was a short cut off through a bend of the river, and at last, vexed and discomfited, the steamer went rapidly back, to learn that the prahus had passed the island at daybreak, and had fired a few defiant shots from their lelahs as they rapidly went by.“Never mind, Tom Long,” said Bob, as the former shivered in his great-coat, for the early morning was damp and cold, “only take time, and we shall put salt on their tails yet.”“No, sir,” said old Dick, shaking his head seriously, “it strikes me as you never won’t catch them as manages them two swift boats. They’re too clever for us, they are. But only think of two big bits of Her Majesty’s army and navy like us being set at nought by this here savage prince.”“Wait a bit, Dick, and you’ll see,” said Bob. “It strikes me that I’m the man for settling Mr Rajah Gantang; and if it does come to me to do so, why let him look out.”“Ay, ay, sir; and his men too. I owe ’em one for that boat affair. The cowards! when a fellow was asleep!”“Ah,” said Tom Long, discontentedly, “it’s all very well to talk, but I want my breakfast;” and he made haste off to his quarters as soon as the steamer’s boats had set the military part of the expeditionary party ashore.

Fresh news reached the residency the next day from the sultan, who sent word that he had had a very threatening letter from Rajah Gantang, declaring that if he did not break at once with the English, ruin, destruction, and death would be his fate before many months had passed.

This threatening language had completely upset the sultan, so the chief who bore the message said, and he begged that his friends and allies, the English, would not let him suffer for his fidelity to them; and when asked what he wished done, the chief replied that while Rajah Gantang lived there would be no peace, for the rajah’s emissaries were in every part of the country, ready to carry news, to rise on their lord’s behalf, even to assassinate, should their orders be to that extent.

The result of all this was a promise that the rajah should be found, if possible, though how it was to be done the resident could not say.

Just in the nick of time a good-sized prahu came down the river, and on anchoring by the steamer her captain went on board, with a pitiful tale of how he had been treated higher up the river.

Believing the rajah’s power to be broken, he had been on his way down, laden with a good cargo of tin, when he was summoned by a prahu to stop. This he refused to do, not knowing who summoned him, when he was attacked by a party from the prahu, two of those on board were killed, and he himself severely wounded.

In proof of his assertions he displayed a spear wound in his arm and the stab of a kris in his shoulder.

Doctor Bolter was sent for, and the master of the prahu had his wounds dressed, after which he implored the help of Captain Horton to recover the slabs of tin that had been taken from his boat, almost ruining him, so severe was the loss.

The news that one of the prahus was about, up the river, set the ship’s company on thequi viveonce more. The master of the prahu, having been robbed of his cargo, had no farther aim, and was glad enough to offer his services as guide. When asked as to the depth of the river, he declared that the steamer could ascend for another twenty miles, so it was decided to make a fresh expedition against this disturber of the country; but the whole of the plans were kept a profound secret, lest the time and arrangements of the party should again be conveyed to the rajah by some one or other of his spies.

Preparations were quietly made, then, and fifty men from the island taken on board the steamer, a few at a time, so as not to attract notice; and when at last the expeditionary party started, the occupants of the residency were dining with Major and Mrs Sandars at the officers’ quarters, where they quietly stayed.

Steam had been got up before dark, and every preparation made, for this time the “Startler” was to go up stream: and at last, when night rapidly succeeded day, as it does in the tropics, the steamer lay waiting for the rising of the moon, and then her screw slowly revolved, and she began to feel her way gently against the swift stream—the people of the campong only seeing her at nightfall moored as usual, and not awaking to the fact that she had gone until the morning, of course far too late to give any warning to the rajah if they were so disposed.

Patiently and almost silently the great steamer forced its way on for quite a mile, when, there being no fear now of being heard, the propeller revolved more rapidly, and the waves made by the vessel ran washing the roots of the trees on either side.

The moon was just at its full, and seemed as it rose to silver the tops of the trees, while it left the river in utter darkness, though it marked out its course through the dense jungle where it seemed to have to cut its way, the great trees growing to the water’s edge, and overhanging the stream.

A rapid rate was impossible, on account of the way in which the river wound about; but it kept so wide and deep that there was but little difficulty in its navigation, especially as not a single craft of any kind was encountered.

The master of the prahu pointed out a couple of campongs as they passed them, on the banks; but they might have been villages of the dead, so silent and unoccupied did they seem, as the steamer slowly glided by.

The moon rose higher and higher, till the river was like a broad path of silver, and along this they continued their course with a man constantly sounding from the chains, but always to show an average depth of about four fathoms, with a thick, soft, muddy bottom, upon which the steamer could have met with no harm had she taken the ground.

Silence had been ordered, but as the Jacks and soldiers sat beneath the shelter of the bulwarks, or leaned over and watched the smooth, silvery river, they conversed in low whispers about the expedition, and wondered what luck was to attend them now.

The plan was evident to all, it was intended to spare the men all the risk they could, by getting the steamer within range of the prahus, and sinking them with her big guns. If this could not be done, through the shallowing of the river, of course the boats would have to continue the journey up stream; but even then it was Captain Horton’s intention to make use of the boat-guns as much as possible, and save the men from the disadvantages of boarding vessels that were so carefully protected.

Higher up the river still, and past the stockade, whose remains showed plainly in the soft moonlight. Ever and again strange noises could be heard from the jungle on either side, as the various denizens of the thick tangle of vegetation were alarmed by the throb and rush of the steamer, with its strange wave that rushed up to the bank, and startled many a nocturnal creature from its lurking-place, where it lay watching in search of prey.

To Bob Roberts’ great delight, he found that Tom Long was one of the party, for, being declared well enough by the doctor, he had put in a sort of claim, as having been of the last force, to a right to belong to this.

This was conceded to him by Major Sandars, and he was burning to distinguish himself, if he could obtain a chance.

Very formidable he seemed, with his sword ground to the keenest possible edge, and a revolver in his belt; though in appearance Bob Roberts was scarcely less offensive in the way of weapons, as he took pains to show his friend.

It must have been close upon midnight, when the man in the chains, who had continued to take soundings, announced by degrees the shallowing of the river.

For quite twenty miles it had kept to its muddy bottom and uniform depth, but during the past half-hour the mud had given place to clean-washed gravel, the depth grew less, and at last the anchor was let go, for it was not considered safe to proceed farther. But it was not until there was less than a foot of water beneath the vessel that the order was given; while even then there was so much way upon the steamer that she touched upon the gravel lightly before she gradually settled back and swung to her cable.

Quickly and silently four boats were lowered, each containing twenty men, and at the word of command the party, under the joint command of Lieutenant Johnson and Captain Smithers, pushed off, with the good wishes of all left on board.

The master of the prahu was in the foremost boat, and according to his account they were still about a couple of miles below where the attack took place, he having been mistaken about the steamer’s draught of water. His opinion was that both the prahus would be found lying in the Qualla, or mouth of a river higher up, and towards this point the boats steadily ascended without any undue bustle, for the object of the officers in charge was to get the men up to the point fresh and ready for the task in hand.

Each boat carried a gun running on slides, and upon the proper service of these guns depended a good deal of the success of the expedition.

They had been rowing steadily on for above half an hour, when suddenly from their left a bright line of light cut the black darkness of the forest, and was followed by a sharp report.

For a moment the course of the boats was checked, and one was directed to pull in and see who the enemy might be, but directly after there was another report a couple of hundred yards higher up, and then another, and another.

“Catch a weasel asleep,” said Lieutenant Johnson, grimly; “that signal will run right up to the prahus. We’ve got to deal with some one who has his wits about him.”

So indeed it proved; for a quarter of an hour later, as they still pushed steadily on in line, there came a warning from the first boat in the shape of a dull heavy report, and the other boats sheered out of the right line, ready to deliver their own fire.

For plainly enough, though wearing a grey shadowy appearance, a couple of prahus could be seen coming swiftly down the stream, the long rows of oars on either side beating the water with a wonderfully regular stroke, and sending them along at quite a startling rate.

Shot after shot was fired, but with what effect the occupants of the boats could not tell, for no heed was paid to the firing, save that the prahus seemed to increase their speed, and were steered so as to run down the enemy that tried to check their way.

It was a matter of little more than a minute from the first sighting of the vessels, each of which was five or six times the size of the largest boats, and their disappearance round the point below, with the water foaming behind them, and the English boats in full pursuit. Several shots had been fired, for each boat found its opportunity at last, and the firing was kept up till the enemy had gone.

The attempt to overtake them was, however, felt to be hopeless, for the prahus went at least two yards to the boats’ one; all the officers could hope was, that one of the shots had done irreparable mischief, or that, warned by the firing, the steamer would sink them as they passed.

More they could not have done; for to have remained still was to have been sunk, the prahus dashing down at a fearful rate, and evidently seeking a collision; so, angry and disappointed, the pursuit was kept up, every ear being attent for the first shot sent at the enemy’s boats by the steamer; but they waited in vain, for when at last they came within challenging distance, it was to find that no prahus had been seen.

“Was a strict watch kept, sir?” asked Lieutenant Johnson, sharply.

“Yes, of course,” said Captain Horton. “I have been on deck with my night-glass ever since you started, and as soon as we heard your guns the men stood ready, lanyard in hand, to fire at any vessel that tried to pass.”

“Then they must have gone off through some side stream, and come out into the river lower down.”

Captain Horton stamped his foot with rage, but nothing could be done until morning; for if the steamer had set off at once, it might have been only to pass the prahus in the darkness of some creek.

Morning then was impatiently awaited, and at the first streak of daylight a couple of boats at once set off, to find a side branch of the river about a mile above the steamer, and that it came out in the main stream once more, half a mile lower down.

They rowed through it to find the current swift and deep, though the place resembled a narrow canal. It was a short cut off through a bend of the river, and at last, vexed and discomfited, the steamer went rapidly back, to learn that the prahus had passed the island at daybreak, and had fired a few defiant shots from their lelahs as they rapidly went by.

“Never mind, Tom Long,” said Bob, as the former shivered in his great-coat, for the early morning was damp and cold, “only take time, and we shall put salt on their tails yet.”

“No, sir,” said old Dick, shaking his head seriously, “it strikes me as you never won’t catch them as manages them two swift boats. They’re too clever for us, they are. But only think of two big bits of Her Majesty’s army and navy like us being set at nought by this here savage prince.”

“Wait a bit, Dick, and you’ll see,” said Bob. “It strikes me that I’m the man for settling Mr Rajah Gantang; and if it does come to me to do so, why let him look out.”

“Ay, ay, sir; and his men too. I owe ’em one for that boat affair. The cowards! when a fellow was asleep!”

“Ah,” said Tom Long, discontentedly, “it’s all very well to talk, but I want my breakfast;” and he made haste off to his quarters as soon as the steamer’s boats had set the military part of the expeditionary party ashore.

Chapter Twenty One.How Abdullah showed the Smooth Side of his Ways.It was decided after this to wait patiently for an opportunity to capture Rajah Gantang, or to destroy his prahus; and meanwhile life at the residency went on very pleasantly. The men at the fort had settled down into an easy-going existence, and under the doctor’s guidance a careful examination was made of the little island, to clear it of everything in the shape of noxious reptile and insect, as far as was possible.The example of the Malays was followed by the construction of a large bathing-place for the men, which being carefully stockaded round with stout bamboos, allowed the free flow of the river-water, without the addition of any four-footed creatures, in the shape of crocodiles, which were far too common to be pleasant, especially where lower down the river the salt water mingled with the fresh. In fact, it was dangerous there for a hand to be dragged in the water beside a boat, the hideous creatures being ready to make a dash at it, darting through the stream as they did with great velocity, by a stroke of their powerful tails.The great desire on the part of the men was to go ashore, but, in the majority of cases, this was sternly refused. Here and there, though, an officer had a shooting-trip, but it was thought better to wait until the confidence of the natives had been more thoroughly won, and the disaffected party of Rajah Gantang dismissed.The sultan seemed to have quite forgotten his rejection by the ladies, and was most liberal in his presentations of fruit and fresh provisions. Every morning a boat came off with a load, the fore part being generally crammed with freshly-cut flowers; and later on in the day the resident’s boat would be sent ashore to return the compliment. Tom Long generally had the honour of being the escort, and marching a fatigue party up to the sultan’s residence with something likely to gratify his highness.There used to be hearty laughter amongst the officers at the quaintness of the presents, and sometimes Tom Long would have been glad to evade his duty had he dared; for, he confided to Bob Roberts—“It is so confoundedly ridiculous, you know. I don’t mind taking him up a little case of a dozen champagne pints, but what do you think I had to take yesterday?”“I don’t know,” said Bob, laughing; “a pound of candles, perhaps.”“No, not yesterday,” cried Tom Long; “but I did have to take him a packet of composite candles, one day. Only fancy, you know, an officer in Her Majesty’s service marching with a fatigue party, up to a palm-thatched barn, to take a coffee-coloured savage a packet of candles for a present!”“Mustn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” said Bob, philosophically. “Present’s a present, whether it’s a pound of candles or a gold chain.”“Bah! It’s disgusting,” said Tom Long. “It’s enough to make a man want to part with his commission.”“What’ll you take for it, Tom Long? I think I should like a change. Or come, I’ll swap with you. I’ll turn ensign, and you take a go at the sea?”“Don’t be absurd.”“Certainly not; but come, you didn’t tell me what you took up yesterday.”“No,” exclaimed Tom Long, flushing with annoyance; “but I will tell you, for it’s a scandal and a disgrace to the service, and Mr Linton ought to be informed against. I actually, sir, had to march those men all along through that jungle with a box.”“Box of what?” said Bob; “dominoes?”“No, sir,” cried Tom Long. “A box containing two bottles of pickles.”“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” roared Bob. “What were they? Walnuts, or onions?”“Neither,” said Tom, with great dignity; “one was piccalilli, and the other mixed.”“Well, I dare say he was very glad of them,” said Bob. “I consider a good bottle of pickles, out in this benighted place, one of the greatest luxuries one could have.”“Yes,” said Tom Long, who had on a supercilious fit that day, “I suppose it would satisfy you.”“All right, my noble friend,” thought Bob to himself; “I’ll take you down for that some day.”They strolled out and about the fort together for a time, and then out to the upper end of the island; for though longing to go to the lower portion where the residency stood, both of them carefully avoided that part. But it so happened that soon after, when they directed their steps towards the landing-place, they found that the ladies were there, in company with the major’s wife, talking to a couple of Malays in a sampan laden with fruit and flowers.The ladies were making liberal purchases of the delicious fruit and sweet-scented flowers, when, to the astonishment of Bob Roberts, he saw that one of the Malays was the man who had made so fierce an attack upon Tom Long over the durian affair.Seeing this they both stepped forward, when the Malay recognised him, said a few hasty words to his companion, and they both leaped ashore, the man of the kris salaaming profoundly, and remaining half prostrate before the young ensign.“Dullah asks pardon of his excellency,” said the other man in good English. “He thought him an enemy who had insulted him, and he drew his kris. He asks now that his excellency will forgive him.”“Yes, yes,” said the offending Malay, without raising his head or his pleading hands; and then he repeated what seemed to be the whole of his stock of English, “Yes, yes.”“Dullah asks your excellencies to forgive him, and to let him bring fruit and flowers, and to make offerings to the English princes he has offended.”“Oh, I say, Tom Long,” said Bob; “that’s a little too strong, isn’t it? English princes!”“What are we to do about the fellow?” said Tom Long; “tell the sentry to turn him off?”“No; what’s the good?” said Bob. “Here, leave it to me. I’ll settle him.”He glanced merrily at Rachel Linton as he spoke, seeming quite at ease in her society now; while Tom Long appeared to be buttoned up in his stiffest uniform, though he was in undress white.“Go on, then,” said Tom Long in a whisper, “but don’t say anything stupid; the ladies can hear every word.”“All right,” said Bob. “Look here, old cockolorum,” he continued to the Malay who interpreted, “what has become of that Kling who was here before?”“Gone Mirzapore, most excellent prince,” said the man.“Come, that’ll do,” said Bob impatiently; “drop all that eastern sugar wordings, my fine fellow, and look here!”The Malay salaamed again.“My friend here isn’t an English prince. We are English officers. And my friend here says you may tell Mr Abdullah there that he does not bear any malice against him for the attack. If he asks pardon, that is enough.”This being interpreted to Abdullah, who remained humbly bent, he started up, and catching Tom Long’s hands, kissed them both, and afterwards Bob’s, very much to that young gentleman’s disgust, though Tom received the salute with a good deal of dignity, posing himself to look to the best advantage in the presence of the ladies.“There, that’ll do now,” said Bob. “It’s all right, only tell Mr Abdullah not to be so handy with his kris again, and that I—Mr Roberts, of Her Majesty’s ship ‘Startler’—think he ought to present us with some durians.”This was duly interpreted to the Malay, who drew back, gazing keenly from the ensign to the middy, and back again, his dark eyes seeming to flash, as he said something in his native tongue to the interpreter.“Dullah say you throw durian again in his face, and it make him mad.”“No, no, old fellow, nothing of the kind,” said Bob, laying his hand on Abdullah’s shoulder. “That’s all past.”The Malay judged his meaning from his looks, and not from his words. Then smiling, he leaped back into the boat, and returned laden with the finest fruit he had, which he offered to the young officers with no little grace and dignity, smiling pleasantly the while, but manifesting nothing little or servile.The ladies looked on so wonderingly, that Bob had to leave the durians and explain, returning directly after, though, to the Malays, and obtaining a splendid bunch of the sweet flowers of the waringhan tree, which he carried back to the ladies, who smiled, thanked him, and took their departure.“I never saw such a fellow as you are, Roberts,” said the ensign, sulkily, as Bob returned; “you always seem to know what to say or do when ladies are present. I don’t!”“Native modesty, ability, and natural gifts, my dear fellow,” said Bob; “and I’m precious glad they are gone, for I want to have a go at those durians.”Abdullah had already opened one, which he presented to Bob, who took it and made a terrible onslaught; and then, with a doubting look in his dark eyes, the Malay opened a second durian, hesitated, and then, evidently mastering his pride, offered it to Tom Long.The latter drew back, shaking his head, and the Malay looked hurt and annoyed.“Tell him I don’t like durians, Bob Roberts,” said Tom, nervously, “or we shall have another row.”“Here, hi! old cockolorum!” cried Bob, with his mouth full as he turned to the Malay, “tell Mr Abdullah there, that his durians are ’licious—luscious—’licious, but Mr Long likes mangosteens better.”This was interpreted, and Abdullah’s doubting look changed as he hurried back to the boat, and returned with a basket full of delicious fruit, which he offered Tom Long with a bow; and then, finding they were accepted, he stood smiling with his head bent, while Bob went on devouring durian at a terrible rate.“I say, Tom Long,” said Bob, making a very unpleasant noise with his mouth.“What is it?” said the ensign, who was deep in the mysterious flavour of the delicious mangosteen.“I never believed in old Darwin, and his development, and evolution, and that sort of thing, till now.”“Why now?” said Tom Long.“Because I feel such a pig,” said Bob, attacking another durian. “Look here, old man, if you’ll put me up in a durian tree, I don’t want anything else thankey; you may have all the honour and glory. Oh! I say, this one’s lovely! it’s just like nectar made with custard, with an old shoe put in for flavour, and all stirred up with a paint brush. How are you getting on?”“Bravely,” said Tom Long.The two young officers went on eating till they caught sight of the doctor in the distance—a sight so suggestive of making themselves ill that they gave up with a sigh or two, and went away, Tom Long offering to pay liberally for the fruit, notwithstanding a hint from his companion that he should be content to accept it as a present.Both the Malays drew back very proudly, but Bob Roberts healed the breach in etiquette by quietly taking out his case, and offering a cigar to each of the Malays in turn.These were taken with a smile, and accompanied by a thoroughly friendly look at parting.“They’re rum fellows, those Malays,” said Bob, “and want a lot of managing. They are gentlemen at heart, and savages at body. That’s my opinion of them.”“And my opinion is,” said Tom Long, “that they are a precious unpleasant treacherous set of people, that it is downright cruelty to expect a gentleman to live amongst.”Up to this point no Malay, not even a servant, had been admitted to live upon the island, though the want of natives for assistance and to supply food had been keenly felt.During the last few days, however, the resident had begun to relax this stringent rule, and a fisherman had been permitted to set up his hut and keep his boats at the upper end of the island, with the consequence that in place of a very intermittent supply, there was plenty of fish at the mess table.Now as soon as the young officers had gone, Abdullah and his Malay companion sought audience, basket in hand, of the resident, who, after talking to them for a time, walked down to the landing-place, saw their ample supply of fruit and flowers, and ended by granting them a site by the water’s edge, where they might set up their hut, and secure their boat, the understanding upon which the grant was made being that an ample supply was to be kept up for the use of the officers and men.“Capital fellow, Linton,” said the doctor. “Nothing like fruit in moderation to keep men in health. But isn’t it risky to have these fellows on the isle?”“I have thought of that,” said Mr Linton; “but by being too exclusive we shall defeat our own ends. We must receive the principal part of the Malays in a friendly way, and it is only by a more open policy that this can be done. If we admit any wolves amongst the sheep they must meet with the wolves’ fate. So far I think I have done well.”“Well, yes, perhaps you are right,” said the doctor. But both gentlemen would have altered their opinions exceedingly if they had seen a long low boat, painted of a dark grey, and manned by six men, float gently down stream that night, and, unseen by the sentries, stop beside the sampan of Abdullah and his Malay companion.Here there was a short consultation, Abdullah crawling over the gunwale into the long low boat, where he lay down, side by side with the man who steered.Their conversation was long, and the others in the boat lay down while it was going on, so that had the boat been seen by an unusually watchful sentry it would have appeared to be empty, and moored to a bamboo stake thrust into the mud.But the dark silent boat was not seen by the nearest sentry, either when it floated down, or when it was cautiously turned and paddled up stream once more, till, out of hearing, the oars went down with a noisy splash, and the long narrow vessel literally dashed through the river.The reason it was not seen was simple enough.Private Sim was on duty that night, and he had been once more fast asleep.

It was decided after this to wait patiently for an opportunity to capture Rajah Gantang, or to destroy his prahus; and meanwhile life at the residency went on very pleasantly. The men at the fort had settled down into an easy-going existence, and under the doctor’s guidance a careful examination was made of the little island, to clear it of everything in the shape of noxious reptile and insect, as far as was possible.

The example of the Malays was followed by the construction of a large bathing-place for the men, which being carefully stockaded round with stout bamboos, allowed the free flow of the river-water, without the addition of any four-footed creatures, in the shape of crocodiles, which were far too common to be pleasant, especially where lower down the river the salt water mingled with the fresh. In fact, it was dangerous there for a hand to be dragged in the water beside a boat, the hideous creatures being ready to make a dash at it, darting through the stream as they did with great velocity, by a stroke of their powerful tails.

The great desire on the part of the men was to go ashore, but, in the majority of cases, this was sternly refused. Here and there, though, an officer had a shooting-trip, but it was thought better to wait until the confidence of the natives had been more thoroughly won, and the disaffected party of Rajah Gantang dismissed.

The sultan seemed to have quite forgotten his rejection by the ladies, and was most liberal in his presentations of fruit and fresh provisions. Every morning a boat came off with a load, the fore part being generally crammed with freshly-cut flowers; and later on in the day the resident’s boat would be sent ashore to return the compliment. Tom Long generally had the honour of being the escort, and marching a fatigue party up to the sultan’s residence with something likely to gratify his highness.

There used to be hearty laughter amongst the officers at the quaintness of the presents, and sometimes Tom Long would have been glad to evade his duty had he dared; for, he confided to Bob Roberts—

“It is so confoundedly ridiculous, you know. I don’t mind taking him up a little case of a dozen champagne pints, but what do you think I had to take yesterday?”

“I don’t know,” said Bob, laughing; “a pound of candles, perhaps.”

“No, not yesterday,” cried Tom Long; “but I did have to take him a packet of composite candles, one day. Only fancy, you know, an officer in Her Majesty’s service marching with a fatigue party, up to a palm-thatched barn, to take a coffee-coloured savage a packet of candles for a present!”

“Mustn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” said Bob, philosophically. “Present’s a present, whether it’s a pound of candles or a gold chain.”

“Bah! It’s disgusting,” said Tom Long. “It’s enough to make a man want to part with his commission.”

“What’ll you take for it, Tom Long? I think I should like a change. Or come, I’ll swap with you. I’ll turn ensign, and you take a go at the sea?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Certainly not; but come, you didn’t tell me what you took up yesterday.”

“No,” exclaimed Tom Long, flushing with annoyance; “but I will tell you, for it’s a scandal and a disgrace to the service, and Mr Linton ought to be informed against. I actually, sir, had to march those men all along through that jungle with a box.”

“Box of what?” said Bob; “dominoes?”

“No, sir,” cried Tom Long. “A box containing two bottles of pickles.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” roared Bob. “What were they? Walnuts, or onions?”

“Neither,” said Tom, with great dignity; “one was piccalilli, and the other mixed.”

“Well, I dare say he was very glad of them,” said Bob. “I consider a good bottle of pickles, out in this benighted place, one of the greatest luxuries one could have.”

“Yes,” said Tom Long, who had on a supercilious fit that day, “I suppose it would satisfy you.”

“All right, my noble friend,” thought Bob to himself; “I’ll take you down for that some day.”

They strolled out and about the fort together for a time, and then out to the upper end of the island; for though longing to go to the lower portion where the residency stood, both of them carefully avoided that part. But it so happened that soon after, when they directed their steps towards the landing-place, they found that the ladies were there, in company with the major’s wife, talking to a couple of Malays in a sampan laden with fruit and flowers.

The ladies were making liberal purchases of the delicious fruit and sweet-scented flowers, when, to the astonishment of Bob Roberts, he saw that one of the Malays was the man who had made so fierce an attack upon Tom Long over the durian affair.

Seeing this they both stepped forward, when the Malay recognised him, said a few hasty words to his companion, and they both leaped ashore, the man of the kris salaaming profoundly, and remaining half prostrate before the young ensign.

“Dullah asks pardon of his excellency,” said the other man in good English. “He thought him an enemy who had insulted him, and he drew his kris. He asks now that his excellency will forgive him.”

“Yes, yes,” said the offending Malay, without raising his head or his pleading hands; and then he repeated what seemed to be the whole of his stock of English, “Yes, yes.”

“Dullah asks your excellencies to forgive him, and to let him bring fruit and flowers, and to make offerings to the English princes he has offended.”

“Oh, I say, Tom Long,” said Bob; “that’s a little too strong, isn’t it? English princes!”

“What are we to do about the fellow?” said Tom Long; “tell the sentry to turn him off?”

“No; what’s the good?” said Bob. “Here, leave it to me. I’ll settle him.”

He glanced merrily at Rachel Linton as he spoke, seeming quite at ease in her society now; while Tom Long appeared to be buttoned up in his stiffest uniform, though he was in undress white.

“Go on, then,” said Tom Long in a whisper, “but don’t say anything stupid; the ladies can hear every word.”

“All right,” said Bob. “Look here, old cockolorum,” he continued to the Malay who interpreted, “what has become of that Kling who was here before?”

“Gone Mirzapore, most excellent prince,” said the man.

“Come, that’ll do,” said Bob impatiently; “drop all that eastern sugar wordings, my fine fellow, and look here!”

The Malay salaamed again.

“My friend here isn’t an English prince. We are English officers. And my friend here says you may tell Mr Abdullah there that he does not bear any malice against him for the attack. If he asks pardon, that is enough.”

This being interpreted to Abdullah, who remained humbly bent, he started up, and catching Tom Long’s hands, kissed them both, and afterwards Bob’s, very much to that young gentleman’s disgust, though Tom received the salute with a good deal of dignity, posing himself to look to the best advantage in the presence of the ladies.

“There, that’ll do now,” said Bob. “It’s all right, only tell Mr Abdullah not to be so handy with his kris again, and that I—Mr Roberts, of Her Majesty’s ship ‘Startler’—think he ought to present us with some durians.”

This was duly interpreted to the Malay, who drew back, gazing keenly from the ensign to the middy, and back again, his dark eyes seeming to flash, as he said something in his native tongue to the interpreter.

“Dullah say you throw durian again in his face, and it make him mad.”

“No, no, old fellow, nothing of the kind,” said Bob, laying his hand on Abdullah’s shoulder. “That’s all past.”

The Malay judged his meaning from his looks, and not from his words. Then smiling, he leaped back into the boat, and returned laden with the finest fruit he had, which he offered to the young officers with no little grace and dignity, smiling pleasantly the while, but manifesting nothing little or servile.

The ladies looked on so wonderingly, that Bob had to leave the durians and explain, returning directly after, though, to the Malays, and obtaining a splendid bunch of the sweet flowers of the waringhan tree, which he carried back to the ladies, who smiled, thanked him, and took their departure.

“I never saw such a fellow as you are, Roberts,” said the ensign, sulkily, as Bob returned; “you always seem to know what to say or do when ladies are present. I don’t!”

“Native modesty, ability, and natural gifts, my dear fellow,” said Bob; “and I’m precious glad they are gone, for I want to have a go at those durians.”

Abdullah had already opened one, which he presented to Bob, who took it and made a terrible onslaught; and then, with a doubting look in his dark eyes, the Malay opened a second durian, hesitated, and then, evidently mastering his pride, offered it to Tom Long.

The latter drew back, shaking his head, and the Malay looked hurt and annoyed.

“Tell him I don’t like durians, Bob Roberts,” said Tom, nervously, “or we shall have another row.”

“Here, hi! old cockolorum!” cried Bob, with his mouth full as he turned to the Malay, “tell Mr Abdullah there, that his durians are ’licious—luscious—’licious, but Mr Long likes mangosteens better.”

This was interpreted, and Abdullah’s doubting look changed as he hurried back to the boat, and returned with a basket full of delicious fruit, which he offered Tom Long with a bow; and then, finding they were accepted, he stood smiling with his head bent, while Bob went on devouring durian at a terrible rate.

“I say, Tom Long,” said Bob, making a very unpleasant noise with his mouth.

“What is it?” said the ensign, who was deep in the mysterious flavour of the delicious mangosteen.

“I never believed in old Darwin, and his development, and evolution, and that sort of thing, till now.”

“Why now?” said Tom Long.

“Because I feel such a pig,” said Bob, attacking another durian. “Look here, old man, if you’ll put me up in a durian tree, I don’t want anything else thankey; you may have all the honour and glory. Oh! I say, this one’s lovely! it’s just like nectar made with custard, with an old shoe put in for flavour, and all stirred up with a paint brush. How are you getting on?”

“Bravely,” said Tom Long.

The two young officers went on eating till they caught sight of the doctor in the distance—a sight so suggestive of making themselves ill that they gave up with a sigh or two, and went away, Tom Long offering to pay liberally for the fruit, notwithstanding a hint from his companion that he should be content to accept it as a present.

Both the Malays drew back very proudly, but Bob Roberts healed the breach in etiquette by quietly taking out his case, and offering a cigar to each of the Malays in turn.

These were taken with a smile, and accompanied by a thoroughly friendly look at parting.

“They’re rum fellows, those Malays,” said Bob, “and want a lot of managing. They are gentlemen at heart, and savages at body. That’s my opinion of them.”

“And my opinion is,” said Tom Long, “that they are a precious unpleasant treacherous set of people, that it is downright cruelty to expect a gentleman to live amongst.”

Up to this point no Malay, not even a servant, had been admitted to live upon the island, though the want of natives for assistance and to supply food had been keenly felt.

During the last few days, however, the resident had begun to relax this stringent rule, and a fisherman had been permitted to set up his hut and keep his boats at the upper end of the island, with the consequence that in place of a very intermittent supply, there was plenty of fish at the mess table.

Now as soon as the young officers had gone, Abdullah and his Malay companion sought audience, basket in hand, of the resident, who, after talking to them for a time, walked down to the landing-place, saw their ample supply of fruit and flowers, and ended by granting them a site by the water’s edge, where they might set up their hut, and secure their boat, the understanding upon which the grant was made being that an ample supply was to be kept up for the use of the officers and men.

“Capital fellow, Linton,” said the doctor. “Nothing like fruit in moderation to keep men in health. But isn’t it risky to have these fellows on the isle?”

“I have thought of that,” said Mr Linton; “but by being too exclusive we shall defeat our own ends. We must receive the principal part of the Malays in a friendly way, and it is only by a more open policy that this can be done. If we admit any wolves amongst the sheep they must meet with the wolves’ fate. So far I think I have done well.”

“Well, yes, perhaps you are right,” said the doctor. But both gentlemen would have altered their opinions exceedingly if they had seen a long low boat, painted of a dark grey, and manned by six men, float gently down stream that night, and, unseen by the sentries, stop beside the sampan of Abdullah and his Malay companion.

Here there was a short consultation, Abdullah crawling over the gunwale into the long low boat, where he lay down, side by side with the man who steered.

Their conversation was long, and the others in the boat lay down while it was going on, so that had the boat been seen by an unusually watchful sentry it would have appeared to be empty, and moored to a bamboo stake thrust into the mud.

But the dark silent boat was not seen by the nearest sentry, either when it floated down, or when it was cautiously turned and paddled up stream once more, till, out of hearing, the oars went down with a noisy splash, and the long narrow vessel literally dashed through the river.

The reason it was not seen was simple enough.

Private Sim was on duty that night, and he had been once more fast asleep.

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