Chapter Sixty One.

Chapter Sixty One.How Bob Roberts turned the Tables.Never was daylight looked for with greater anxiety than that night on board the steamer.With the first flush she was allowed to float lower down, till abreast of the spot where the two men were taken on board, and then every available hand was landed, under Bob Roberts’ command, to try, by firing signals and listening for the reply, to reach the place where the worn-out party were making their last stand.The two poor fellows who had come on board were in too pitiable a plight to move, and, even if they had gone, they could not have guided the relief party, who, only twenty strong, leaped ashore, eager to reach their friends, and inflict some punishment on the Malays, while the others retreated towards the ship.Every man was laden heavily with food and ammunition, Lieutenant Johnson’s difficulty being to keep the brave fellows from taking too much, and hindering their fighting powers, as, with a hearty cheer, they plunged in amidst the interlacing canes.The task was hard, but less so than they expected—resolving itself as it did into hacking the canes and forcing their way through; for before they had gone far they could hear firing before them, and it was kept up so vigorously that there was no occasion to fire a single signal.Hour after hour did they toil on, till the firing suddenly ceased, and they were for a moment at fault; but Bob Roberts and Old Dick, who were leading, suddenly heard voices close at hand, where the forest growth was thinner; and hacking and chopping away, they had nearly reached the spot when the firing suddenly began again furiously for a few moments, and then once more stopped.The next minute the way was clear, and Bob Roberts, with his twenty blue-jackets and marines, went in at the double to an opening in the jungle where the remains of the hunting-party were making a desperate stand against a strong body of Malay; who, spear against bayonet, were pressing them home.The middy took it all in at a glance, and saw that in another minute the weak helpless wielders of rifle and bayonet would be borne down, and they, and the sick and wounded lying in the long grass, massacred to a man.Major Sandars said afterwards that the oldest colonel in the service could not have done better; for, with his sun-browned face lighting up with excitement, and waving his sword, Bob Roberts shouted his orders to the men, sprang forward, giving point at a great bronze-skinned Malay who had borne the major down and was about to spear him, while with a hearty British cheer the marines and blue-jackets dashed up, poured in a staggering volley amongst the thronging enemy, and followed it up with a bayonet charge along the beaten-down jungle alley, till, dropping spear and kris, the Malays fled for their lives.Others were hurrying up to be present at the massacre; for the news had spread that the English had fired their last cartridge and were weak with starvation; but as they met their flying comrades the panic spread. The reinforcements were magnified a hundred times; and it wanted but Bob Roberts’ quick sharp halt, form in line two deep, and the firing in of a couple of volleys, to send all to the right-about, a few of the hindmost getting a prick of the bayonet before they got away.Pursuit would have been in vain, so Bob left a picket of five men under Old Dick to keep the narrow path, bidding them fell a tree or two so that their branches might lie towards and hinder an attack from the enemy, before hurrying back with fourteen men to the little jungle camp.He tried hard, but he could not keep back his tears as the gaunt bleeding remains of a fine body of men gathered round him to grasp his hands and bless him; while, when one strange-looking little naked object came up and seized him by the shoulders, he felt almost ready to laugh.It was hard to believe it was Dr Bolter standing there, in a pair of ragged trousers reduced in length to knee breeches, and nothing else.“Bob, my dear boy,” he said, “I can’t tell you how glad I am; but give me some rum, biscuits, anything you have, for my poor lads are perishing for want of food.”The men’s wallets were being emptied, and food and ammunition were rapidly distributed, for not a scrap of provision nor a single cartridge was left with the major’s party.“Why, you are laughing at me, you dog,” cried the doctor, as he came back for more provisions; “but just you have forty patients, Bob Roberts, many of them wounded, and not a bandage to use, Bob, my lad! My handkerchiefs, neck and pocket, went first; then my Norfolk jacket, and then my shirt. Poor lads! poor brave lads!” he said piteously; “I’d have taken off my skin if it would have done them good.”“Ah, doctor,” said Bob, in a voice full of remorse, “I’m only a boy yet, and a very thoughtless one. Pray forgive me. I meant no harm.”“God bless you, my lad; I know that,” cried the doctor, warmly. “You’ve saved us all. Boy, indeed? Well, so you are, Bob; but as long as England has plenty of such boys as you, we need not trouble ourselves about the men—they’ll all come in time.”It was a pitiful task, but every one worked with a will; and now that they were refreshed with food, reanimated by the presence of twenty fresh men, supplied with ammunition, and, above all, supported by the knowledge that not a mile away, through the newly-cut path, there lay a haven of rest in the shape of the steamer—men who had been fit to lie down and die, stood up, flushed, excited, and ready to help bear the sick and wounded towards the river; while, to make matters better, the Malays had had such a thrashing in this last engagement that they made no fresh attack. The consequence was that half-a-dozen weak men under Major Sandars made a show in the rear, and all the strong devoted themselves to helping to carry the invalids to the steamer.More help was afforded too from the steamer itself as soon as Lieutenant Johnson found that there was no fear of attack, and in the end all were got safely on board; and long before night Dr Bolter, clothed and comfortable, had all his sick men in berths and hammocks, well tended, already looking better, and he himself walking up and down the deck chuckling and rubbing his hands.The losses had been severe, but far less than might have been expected, owing to the devotion of the men, who had struggled on till they could get no farther, and would have perished one and all but for the timely succour brought by the middy, and indirectly by the emissary of Rajah Gantang, who little thought when he took the steamer, by his clever ruse, up the solitary river, that he was leading them where it would be the salvation of the hunting-party who were doomed to death.Not a moment had been lost, and as soon as all were on board, the steamer recommenced her downward course towards the residency, where all felt that help must be urgently needed by the little party who had its defence.

Never was daylight looked for with greater anxiety than that night on board the steamer.

With the first flush she was allowed to float lower down, till abreast of the spot where the two men were taken on board, and then every available hand was landed, under Bob Roberts’ command, to try, by firing signals and listening for the reply, to reach the place where the worn-out party were making their last stand.

The two poor fellows who had come on board were in too pitiable a plight to move, and, even if they had gone, they could not have guided the relief party, who, only twenty strong, leaped ashore, eager to reach their friends, and inflict some punishment on the Malays, while the others retreated towards the ship.

Every man was laden heavily with food and ammunition, Lieutenant Johnson’s difficulty being to keep the brave fellows from taking too much, and hindering their fighting powers, as, with a hearty cheer, they plunged in amidst the interlacing canes.

The task was hard, but less so than they expected—resolving itself as it did into hacking the canes and forcing their way through; for before they had gone far they could hear firing before them, and it was kept up so vigorously that there was no occasion to fire a single signal.

Hour after hour did they toil on, till the firing suddenly ceased, and they were for a moment at fault; but Bob Roberts and Old Dick, who were leading, suddenly heard voices close at hand, where the forest growth was thinner; and hacking and chopping away, they had nearly reached the spot when the firing suddenly began again furiously for a few moments, and then once more stopped.

The next minute the way was clear, and Bob Roberts, with his twenty blue-jackets and marines, went in at the double to an opening in the jungle where the remains of the hunting-party were making a desperate stand against a strong body of Malay; who, spear against bayonet, were pressing them home.

The middy took it all in at a glance, and saw that in another minute the weak helpless wielders of rifle and bayonet would be borne down, and they, and the sick and wounded lying in the long grass, massacred to a man.

Major Sandars said afterwards that the oldest colonel in the service could not have done better; for, with his sun-browned face lighting up with excitement, and waving his sword, Bob Roberts shouted his orders to the men, sprang forward, giving point at a great bronze-skinned Malay who had borne the major down and was about to spear him, while with a hearty British cheer the marines and blue-jackets dashed up, poured in a staggering volley amongst the thronging enemy, and followed it up with a bayonet charge along the beaten-down jungle alley, till, dropping spear and kris, the Malays fled for their lives.

Others were hurrying up to be present at the massacre; for the news had spread that the English had fired their last cartridge and were weak with starvation; but as they met their flying comrades the panic spread. The reinforcements were magnified a hundred times; and it wanted but Bob Roberts’ quick sharp halt, form in line two deep, and the firing in of a couple of volleys, to send all to the right-about, a few of the hindmost getting a prick of the bayonet before they got away.

Pursuit would have been in vain, so Bob left a picket of five men under Old Dick to keep the narrow path, bidding them fell a tree or two so that their branches might lie towards and hinder an attack from the enemy, before hurrying back with fourteen men to the little jungle camp.

He tried hard, but he could not keep back his tears as the gaunt bleeding remains of a fine body of men gathered round him to grasp his hands and bless him; while, when one strange-looking little naked object came up and seized him by the shoulders, he felt almost ready to laugh.

It was hard to believe it was Dr Bolter standing there, in a pair of ragged trousers reduced in length to knee breeches, and nothing else.

“Bob, my dear boy,” he said, “I can’t tell you how glad I am; but give me some rum, biscuits, anything you have, for my poor lads are perishing for want of food.”

The men’s wallets were being emptied, and food and ammunition were rapidly distributed, for not a scrap of provision nor a single cartridge was left with the major’s party.

“Why, you are laughing at me, you dog,” cried the doctor, as he came back for more provisions; “but just you have forty patients, Bob Roberts, many of them wounded, and not a bandage to use, Bob, my lad! My handkerchiefs, neck and pocket, went first; then my Norfolk jacket, and then my shirt. Poor lads! poor brave lads!” he said piteously; “I’d have taken off my skin if it would have done them good.”

“Ah, doctor,” said Bob, in a voice full of remorse, “I’m only a boy yet, and a very thoughtless one. Pray forgive me. I meant no harm.”

“God bless you, my lad; I know that,” cried the doctor, warmly. “You’ve saved us all. Boy, indeed? Well, so you are, Bob; but as long as England has plenty of such boys as you, we need not trouble ourselves about the men—they’ll all come in time.”

It was a pitiful task, but every one worked with a will; and now that they were refreshed with food, reanimated by the presence of twenty fresh men, supplied with ammunition, and, above all, supported by the knowledge that not a mile away, through the newly-cut path, there lay a haven of rest in the shape of the steamer—men who had been fit to lie down and die, stood up, flushed, excited, and ready to help bear the sick and wounded towards the river; while, to make matters better, the Malays had had such a thrashing in this last engagement that they made no fresh attack. The consequence was that half-a-dozen weak men under Major Sandars made a show in the rear, and all the strong devoted themselves to helping to carry the invalids to the steamer.

More help was afforded too from the steamer itself as soon as Lieutenant Johnson found that there was no fear of attack, and in the end all were got safely on board; and long before night Dr Bolter, clothed and comfortable, had all his sick men in berths and hammocks, well tended, already looking better, and he himself walking up and down the deck chuckling and rubbing his hands.

The losses had been severe, but far less than might have been expected, owing to the devotion of the men, who had struggled on till they could get no farther, and would have perished one and all but for the timely succour brought by the middy, and indirectly by the emissary of Rajah Gantang, who little thought when he took the steamer, by his clever ruse, up the solitary river, that he was leading them where it would be the salvation of the hunting-party who were doomed to death.

Not a moment had been lost, and as soon as all were on board, the steamer recommenced her downward course towards the residency, where all felt that help must be urgently needed by the little party who had its defence.

Chapter Sixty Two.Captain Smithers proves a True Officer, and Private Gray a Gentleman.In truth help was urgently needed at the little fort; but had its defenders been compelled to wait for that which the steamer would afford, every one would have been either butchered or taken off into a terrible captivity.Captain Smithers when he looked round had seen the enemy coming on in such strength; and with a demonstration so full of clever plan, backed up by determination, that he could not help feeling that the critical moment had come, and that they must either surrender or meet death like men.If he surrendered, the probabilities were that they would all be massacred, save the women; and as he thought of them he raised his eyes, and found those of Private Gray fixed upon him, as if reading his very soul.“You know what I was thinking, Gray,” he said, resentfully.“Yes, sir,” said Gray, sharply; “you were debating within yourself whether you should strike the Union Jack in token of surrender.”“I was,” said Captain Smithers, angry with himself at being as it were obliged to speak as he did to this simple private of his regiment. “And you advise it?”“Advise it, sir? For heaven’s sake—for the sake of the ladies whom we have to defend, let us fight till the last gasp, and then send a few shots into the magazine. Better death than the mercy of a set of cut-throat pirates.”Captain Smithers was silent for a few moments, and then he said quietly,—“I should not have surrendered, Gray. You are quite right.” He hesitated for a moment or two, and then said hoarsely,—“Gray, we hate each other.”“This is no time for hatred, sir,” said Gray, sternly.“No,” said Captain Smithers, “it is not. In half an hour we shall be, in all human probability, dead men. Rank will be no more. Gray, I never in my heart doubted your honesty. You are a brave man. Now for duty.”“Yes, sir,” said Gray, in a deeply moved voice—“for duty.”Crash!There was a sharp ragged volley from the enemy at that moment as a body of them advanced, and a shriek of agony from close by, followed by a fall.“Some poor fellow down,” said the Captain, hoarsely. “Who is it, Sergeant Lund?” he said, taking a dozen strides in the direction of the cry.“Private Sim, sir. Shot through the heart—dead!”The captain turned away, and the next minute the fight on all sides was general, the enemy winning their way nearer and nearer, and a couple of prahus sending a shower of ragged bullets from their brass lelahs over the attacking party’s heads.“Stand firm, my lads; stand firm. Your bayonets, boys!” cried Captain Smithers, as with a desperate rush the Malays dashed forward now to carry the place by assault, and in sufficient numbers to sweep all before them—whenboom! boom! boom! boom! came the reports of heavy guns, and the fire from the prahus ceased.“Hurrah! my lads; steady!” cried Tom Long, waving his sword. “The steamer! the steamer!”“No,” cried Captain Smithers, “it is from below. It is a heavily-armed prahu.”“No,” cried Tom Long; “a steamer! a steamer!”He was right, for a little gunboat was rapidly ascending the river, and one of the prahus began to settle down in front of the fort, while the other used her sweeps to get away.Another minute, and just when they had won an entrance, beating back the defenders of the barricaded gateways, a panic seized upon the Malays, for shell after shell was dropping and bursting in their midst; and before Captain Smithers and his brave little party could realise the fact, the enemy was in full retreat.A quarter of an hour later, and the gunboat was moored abreast of the fort, and congratulations were being exchanged.He had said nothing, not daring to hope for success; but Ali had, as soon as he could, sent a fisherman in his boat to try and convey word of the danger to the Dindings. The message had been faithfully borne, and the little gunboat sent to help to keep the enemy at bay, till the steamer could come from Penang with a detachment of infantry on board.The heavy guns were too much for the Malays; and just as it had been decided that the gunboat should ascend the river in quest of the “Startler,” the latter came slowly down the river with her rescued freight.In a couple more days the Penang steamer had arrived with a battalion of foot, under Colonel Hanson; and the next thing heard was that the Sultan Hamet, with Rajah Gantang, had fled up the country, the minor chiefs sending in their submission to the British and suing for peace.Doctor Bolter became almost the greatest man at the station after this, and he went about laughing as he kept—to use his own words—“setting men up,” speaking of them as if they were natural history specimens. First he had to be thanked by Rachel Linton for saving her father’s life; then he found Captain Horton blessing him for his recovery; and one way and another he had a very proud time of it, though, to his great regret, he had no chance of pursuing his favourite hobby.The Malay who acted as his guide was recovering fast from the tiger’s clawing, and had attached himself to the doctor as servant when matters settled down; and it was affecting to see the poor fellow’s delight upon encountering Ali alive and well.Matters were soon arranged, and a busy party were at work rebuilding the residency, a number of Chinese joiners being enlisted for the task.Meanwhile the fort and barracks had to be the general dwelling; and Bob Roberts and Tom Long were looked upon as heroes.It so happened, that one day Colonel Hanson entered the mess-room, where Captain Horton, Major Sandars, Captain Smithers, and the other officers, were grouped about. Mr Linton and the ladies were present; and on one side stood a group of soldiers, foremost among whom were Sergeant Lund and Private Gray.Major Sandars advanced to meet the governor’s messenger, and he was about to make some remark, when Colonel Hanson turned round, caught sight of Private Gray, and started with astonishment.The next moment he had gone forward to where Gray stood, looking very stern and troubled, and caught him by the hands, dragging him forward, and evidently forgetting all the stiff etiquette of the army.“Why, my dear old Frank,” he cried, shaking his hands, and seeming as if he could hug him, “this is a surprise! this is a meeting! Why, where have you been? Soldiering too, and wearing the scarlet! My dear old Frank,” he cried again, with his voice shaking with emotion, “I feel as weak as a child; upon my word I do.”“Colonel Hanson,” said Gray, quietly, but evidently very much moved, as he saw that they were the centre of every gaze, “this is indeed a strange meeting. I little thought it was you. But you forget; we belong to different circles now.”“Forget? Different circles? Do we indeed?” cried Colonel Hanson, whose face was flushed with excitement. “I forget nothing. Come here,” he cried, and dragging Gray’s arm through his, he faced round to where the astonished officers and the resident were standing.“Major Sandars, Mr Linton, gentlemen, this is my very dear old friend, Francis Murray. We were schoolfellows together at Eton, and—and—and—I can’t tell you now all the good brave things he has done for me. For years he has been missing; that wretched Overend and Gurney smash broke him, and he disappeared. And, Frank, you foolish fellow, I have been searching for you high and low to tell you that that cantankerous old lady, your aunt, was dead, and had changed her mind at the last moment, quarrelled with that lot who had got hold of her, sent for her solicitor, and left Greylands and every farthing she had to you. Thank goodness I have found you at last. Now sign your application to buy out at once. I will forward it home, and take upon myself to consider it accepted, pending the official discharge.”While this was going on, Captain Smithers, whose heart felt like lead, had gazed from one to the other. Now his eyes were fixed with bitter jealousy upon Private Gray, and now upon Rachel Linton, though she saw him not, but, pale and flushed by turns, she was gazing at Gray.He was a true gentleman at heart, and in spite of his misery and disappointment, that which he had just heard gave him some satisfaction. It had been one of his bitterest griefs—one with a poisoned sting—that feeling which always haunted him, that Rachel Linton should prefer a private soldier to him, an officer and a gentleman. For that she did love Gray he had long felt certain. Gray, or Murray, then, was a gentleman, who, like many other gentlemen, had enlisted, and served as a very brave soldier. Yes, he was, Captain Smithers owned to himself, a very brave soldier, though he had felt that he hated him; while now—now—“I’ll fight it down,” said Captain Smithers to himself.“Heaven helping me, I’ll be a gentleman as well as an officer. He has won, and I have lost. I ought to like him for her sake, and I will.”It was a brave effort, and it required all his strength—but he did it. He looked first at Rachel Linton, and then at the sweet sympathising face of her cousin, and went up close to them.“Rachel,” he said, holding out his hand and speaking in a low voice only heard by her and Miss Sinclair, “I give up. Let me be a dear friend, if I can be nothing more.”Miss Linton held out her hand frankly and cordially, and he held it a moment in his. Then dropping it, he walked straight across to where Colonel Hanson was standing with Murray in the midst of a group, and holding out his hand, he said,—“Mr Murray, I am your debtor for my life. Henceforth let us, too, be very dear friends.”The two young men clasped hands in a firm strong grip, each reading the other’s thoughts, and they instinctively knew that henceforth all enmity between them was at end. It was all Frank Murray could do to stand firm, for he knew how great an effort this must have cost his rival, and he mentally vowed to repay him all.“Well,” said Major Sandars, laughing, “this is a surprise indeed. Gentlemen all, Private Gray was so good and true a man in the private’s mess, that I for one am quite sure he will be a welcome addition to ours.”“Mr Murray will grant that I have always looked upon him with respect,” said Mr Linton, cordially. “I owe him too deep a debt,” he said, holding out his hand, “not to feel intensely gratified at this change in his position.”The other officers warmly shook hands, Tom Long amongst the number; while, when it came to Bob Roberts’ turn, he said with his eyes sparkling,—“I say, Mr Murray, I am glad, ’pon my word.” Bob Roberts and Tom Long strolled out together on to the parade ground, crossing it to get under the trees where a group of soldiers and Jacks were standing.“I say, Tom Long, this is a rum game, isn’t it?” said Bob.“I call it beastly,” said Tom. “Well, there’s one consolation, young fellow, your nose is out of joint in a certain quarter.”“No,” said Bob, “it’s yours. I’ve long enough given up my pretentions. Miss Linton and I are the best of friends; but I’m sorry for you.”“Bother!” said Tom Long. “I wish I hadn’t been such a fool. Why, whatever are they talking about?”“I always knew he was a gentleman,” said Sergeant Lund, authoritatively. “The way he could write out a despatch was something wonderful, that it was. Ha! I’m sorry he’s gone!”“Tell you what,” said old Dick, “its about my turn now. What would some of you say if I was to turn out to be a mysterious orphan, and be a skipper or an admiral?”“That’s quite right, my lads,” said Bob Roberts, sharply. “Old Dick is a mysterious orphan, and if you open his shirt you’ll find he’s marked with a blue mermaid.”“That’s a true word,” said old Dick, grinning. “But, Master Roberts, sir, don’t you think you might pass your word for us to say a half dollar down there at the canteen? What’s just took place has been hard on our emotions, sir, and the consequence is as we are all werry dry.”“I think you’re more likely to turn out a fish, Dick—a shark, than anything else,” said Bob. “But I don’t mind. Will you be half, Tom?”Tom Long nodded; and the men went off laughing to the canteen, to drink the health of Frank Murray, late Private Gray, and ended by saying, through their mouthpiece, Dick, that,—“This here is a werry strange world.”

In truth help was urgently needed at the little fort; but had its defenders been compelled to wait for that which the steamer would afford, every one would have been either butchered or taken off into a terrible captivity.

Captain Smithers when he looked round had seen the enemy coming on in such strength; and with a demonstration so full of clever plan, backed up by determination, that he could not help feeling that the critical moment had come, and that they must either surrender or meet death like men.

If he surrendered, the probabilities were that they would all be massacred, save the women; and as he thought of them he raised his eyes, and found those of Private Gray fixed upon him, as if reading his very soul.

“You know what I was thinking, Gray,” he said, resentfully.

“Yes, sir,” said Gray, sharply; “you were debating within yourself whether you should strike the Union Jack in token of surrender.”

“I was,” said Captain Smithers, angry with himself at being as it were obliged to speak as he did to this simple private of his regiment. “And you advise it?”

“Advise it, sir? For heaven’s sake—for the sake of the ladies whom we have to defend, let us fight till the last gasp, and then send a few shots into the magazine. Better death than the mercy of a set of cut-throat pirates.”

Captain Smithers was silent for a few moments, and then he said quietly,—

“I should not have surrendered, Gray. You are quite right.” He hesitated for a moment or two, and then said hoarsely,—

“Gray, we hate each other.”

“This is no time for hatred, sir,” said Gray, sternly.

“No,” said Captain Smithers, “it is not. In half an hour we shall be, in all human probability, dead men. Rank will be no more. Gray, I never in my heart doubted your honesty. You are a brave man. Now for duty.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gray, in a deeply moved voice—“for duty.”

Crash!

There was a sharp ragged volley from the enemy at that moment as a body of them advanced, and a shriek of agony from close by, followed by a fall.

“Some poor fellow down,” said the Captain, hoarsely. “Who is it, Sergeant Lund?” he said, taking a dozen strides in the direction of the cry.

“Private Sim, sir. Shot through the heart—dead!”

The captain turned away, and the next minute the fight on all sides was general, the enemy winning their way nearer and nearer, and a couple of prahus sending a shower of ragged bullets from their brass lelahs over the attacking party’s heads.

“Stand firm, my lads; stand firm. Your bayonets, boys!” cried Captain Smithers, as with a desperate rush the Malays dashed forward now to carry the place by assault, and in sufficient numbers to sweep all before them—whenboom! boom! boom! boom! came the reports of heavy guns, and the fire from the prahus ceased.

“Hurrah! my lads; steady!” cried Tom Long, waving his sword. “The steamer! the steamer!”

“No,” cried Captain Smithers, “it is from below. It is a heavily-armed prahu.”

“No,” cried Tom Long; “a steamer! a steamer!”

He was right, for a little gunboat was rapidly ascending the river, and one of the prahus began to settle down in front of the fort, while the other used her sweeps to get away.

Another minute, and just when they had won an entrance, beating back the defenders of the barricaded gateways, a panic seized upon the Malays, for shell after shell was dropping and bursting in their midst; and before Captain Smithers and his brave little party could realise the fact, the enemy was in full retreat.

A quarter of an hour later, and the gunboat was moored abreast of the fort, and congratulations were being exchanged.

He had said nothing, not daring to hope for success; but Ali had, as soon as he could, sent a fisherman in his boat to try and convey word of the danger to the Dindings. The message had been faithfully borne, and the little gunboat sent to help to keep the enemy at bay, till the steamer could come from Penang with a detachment of infantry on board.

The heavy guns were too much for the Malays; and just as it had been decided that the gunboat should ascend the river in quest of the “Startler,” the latter came slowly down the river with her rescued freight.

In a couple more days the Penang steamer had arrived with a battalion of foot, under Colonel Hanson; and the next thing heard was that the Sultan Hamet, with Rajah Gantang, had fled up the country, the minor chiefs sending in their submission to the British and suing for peace.

Doctor Bolter became almost the greatest man at the station after this, and he went about laughing as he kept—to use his own words—“setting men up,” speaking of them as if they were natural history specimens. First he had to be thanked by Rachel Linton for saving her father’s life; then he found Captain Horton blessing him for his recovery; and one way and another he had a very proud time of it, though, to his great regret, he had no chance of pursuing his favourite hobby.

The Malay who acted as his guide was recovering fast from the tiger’s clawing, and had attached himself to the doctor as servant when matters settled down; and it was affecting to see the poor fellow’s delight upon encountering Ali alive and well.

Matters were soon arranged, and a busy party were at work rebuilding the residency, a number of Chinese joiners being enlisted for the task.

Meanwhile the fort and barracks had to be the general dwelling; and Bob Roberts and Tom Long were looked upon as heroes.

It so happened, that one day Colonel Hanson entered the mess-room, where Captain Horton, Major Sandars, Captain Smithers, and the other officers, were grouped about. Mr Linton and the ladies were present; and on one side stood a group of soldiers, foremost among whom were Sergeant Lund and Private Gray.

Major Sandars advanced to meet the governor’s messenger, and he was about to make some remark, when Colonel Hanson turned round, caught sight of Private Gray, and started with astonishment.

The next moment he had gone forward to where Gray stood, looking very stern and troubled, and caught him by the hands, dragging him forward, and evidently forgetting all the stiff etiquette of the army.

“Why, my dear old Frank,” he cried, shaking his hands, and seeming as if he could hug him, “this is a surprise! this is a meeting! Why, where have you been? Soldiering too, and wearing the scarlet! My dear old Frank,” he cried again, with his voice shaking with emotion, “I feel as weak as a child; upon my word I do.”

“Colonel Hanson,” said Gray, quietly, but evidently very much moved, as he saw that they were the centre of every gaze, “this is indeed a strange meeting. I little thought it was you. But you forget; we belong to different circles now.”

“Forget? Different circles? Do we indeed?” cried Colonel Hanson, whose face was flushed with excitement. “I forget nothing. Come here,” he cried, and dragging Gray’s arm through his, he faced round to where the astonished officers and the resident were standing.

“Major Sandars, Mr Linton, gentlemen, this is my very dear old friend, Francis Murray. We were schoolfellows together at Eton, and—and—and—I can’t tell you now all the good brave things he has done for me. For years he has been missing; that wretched Overend and Gurney smash broke him, and he disappeared. And, Frank, you foolish fellow, I have been searching for you high and low to tell you that that cantankerous old lady, your aunt, was dead, and had changed her mind at the last moment, quarrelled with that lot who had got hold of her, sent for her solicitor, and left Greylands and every farthing she had to you. Thank goodness I have found you at last. Now sign your application to buy out at once. I will forward it home, and take upon myself to consider it accepted, pending the official discharge.”

While this was going on, Captain Smithers, whose heart felt like lead, had gazed from one to the other. Now his eyes were fixed with bitter jealousy upon Private Gray, and now upon Rachel Linton, though she saw him not, but, pale and flushed by turns, she was gazing at Gray.

He was a true gentleman at heart, and in spite of his misery and disappointment, that which he had just heard gave him some satisfaction. It had been one of his bitterest griefs—one with a poisoned sting—that feeling which always haunted him, that Rachel Linton should prefer a private soldier to him, an officer and a gentleman. For that she did love Gray he had long felt certain. Gray, or Murray, then, was a gentleman, who, like many other gentlemen, had enlisted, and served as a very brave soldier. Yes, he was, Captain Smithers owned to himself, a very brave soldier, though he had felt that he hated him; while now—now—

“I’ll fight it down,” said Captain Smithers to himself.

“Heaven helping me, I’ll be a gentleman as well as an officer. He has won, and I have lost. I ought to like him for her sake, and I will.”

It was a brave effort, and it required all his strength—but he did it. He looked first at Rachel Linton, and then at the sweet sympathising face of her cousin, and went up close to them.

“Rachel,” he said, holding out his hand and speaking in a low voice only heard by her and Miss Sinclair, “I give up. Let me be a dear friend, if I can be nothing more.”

Miss Linton held out her hand frankly and cordially, and he held it a moment in his. Then dropping it, he walked straight across to where Colonel Hanson was standing with Murray in the midst of a group, and holding out his hand, he said,—

“Mr Murray, I am your debtor for my life. Henceforth let us, too, be very dear friends.”

The two young men clasped hands in a firm strong grip, each reading the other’s thoughts, and they instinctively knew that henceforth all enmity between them was at end. It was all Frank Murray could do to stand firm, for he knew how great an effort this must have cost his rival, and he mentally vowed to repay him all.

“Well,” said Major Sandars, laughing, “this is a surprise indeed. Gentlemen all, Private Gray was so good and true a man in the private’s mess, that I for one am quite sure he will be a welcome addition to ours.”

“Mr Murray will grant that I have always looked upon him with respect,” said Mr Linton, cordially. “I owe him too deep a debt,” he said, holding out his hand, “not to feel intensely gratified at this change in his position.”

The other officers warmly shook hands, Tom Long amongst the number; while, when it came to Bob Roberts’ turn, he said with his eyes sparkling,—

“I say, Mr Murray, I am glad, ’pon my word.” Bob Roberts and Tom Long strolled out together on to the parade ground, crossing it to get under the trees where a group of soldiers and Jacks were standing.

“I say, Tom Long, this is a rum game, isn’t it?” said Bob.

“I call it beastly,” said Tom. “Well, there’s one consolation, young fellow, your nose is out of joint in a certain quarter.”

“No,” said Bob, “it’s yours. I’ve long enough given up my pretentions. Miss Linton and I are the best of friends; but I’m sorry for you.”

“Bother!” said Tom Long. “I wish I hadn’t been such a fool. Why, whatever are they talking about?”

“I always knew he was a gentleman,” said Sergeant Lund, authoritatively. “The way he could write out a despatch was something wonderful, that it was. Ha! I’m sorry he’s gone!”

“Tell you what,” said old Dick, “its about my turn now. What would some of you say if I was to turn out to be a mysterious orphan, and be a skipper or an admiral?”

“That’s quite right, my lads,” said Bob Roberts, sharply. “Old Dick is a mysterious orphan, and if you open his shirt you’ll find he’s marked with a blue mermaid.”

“That’s a true word,” said old Dick, grinning. “But, Master Roberts, sir, don’t you think you might pass your word for us to say a half dollar down there at the canteen? What’s just took place has been hard on our emotions, sir, and the consequence is as we are all werry dry.”

“I think you’re more likely to turn out a fish, Dick—a shark, than anything else,” said Bob. “But I don’t mind. Will you be half, Tom?”

Tom Long nodded; and the men went off laughing to the canteen, to drink the health of Frank Murray, late Private Gray, and ended by saying, through their mouthpiece, Dick, that,—

“This here is a werry strange world.”

Chapter Sixty Three.The Last of it.There is not much more to say about the various people who formed the little world at the jungle-station.Despatches were sent home, in which Major Sandars and Captain Horton dwelt most strongly upon the bravery of the young officers serving respectively beneath them. Captain Horton said so much respecting Bob Roberts, that poor Bob said he felt as red as a tomato; while Tom Long, instead of becoming what old Dick called more “stuck-upper” on reading of his bravery, seemed humbled and more frank and natural. Certainly he became better liked; and at a dinner that was given after the country had settled, and Colonel Hanson and his force were about to return, that officer in a speech said that from what he had heard, Mr Midshipman Roberts and Mr Ensign Long would become ornaments of the services to which they belonged.And so they did, and the truest of friends, when they did not quarrel, though really their squabbles only cemented their friendship the stronger.They both visited Mr and Mrs Frank Murray at their pretty bungalow at Parang, where Rachel was settled down so long as her father retained his post at the residency; but their most enjoyable visits were, as years went by, to their friend the sultan, who was fast improving the country, and encouraging his people to become more commercial, in place of the arrant pirates they had been. For in a very short time in the settlement of the country under British protection, the rank of sultan had been offered to the Tumongong, who refused it in favour of his son Ali, and this was ratified by the Governor of the Straits—Sultan Hamet dying a victim to excess, and the piratical Rajah Gantang of his wounds.Which was, so said old Dick in confidence to the two young officers, “a blessing to everybody consarned, for that there Rajah Gantang was about the wussest nigger as ever suffered from the want of soap.”The last the writer heard of Dick was, that he was the oldest boatswain in the service, and that he was on board that rapid gunboat the “Peregrine,” commanded by Lieutenant Robert Roberts, RN.It need only be added that Captain Smithers got over his disappointment, and two years later married Mary Sinclair, who makes him an excellent wife. So that none of those concerned had cause to regret the trip up the Malay river in HMS “Startler.”The End.

There is not much more to say about the various people who formed the little world at the jungle-station.

Despatches were sent home, in which Major Sandars and Captain Horton dwelt most strongly upon the bravery of the young officers serving respectively beneath them. Captain Horton said so much respecting Bob Roberts, that poor Bob said he felt as red as a tomato; while Tom Long, instead of becoming what old Dick called more “stuck-upper” on reading of his bravery, seemed humbled and more frank and natural. Certainly he became better liked; and at a dinner that was given after the country had settled, and Colonel Hanson and his force were about to return, that officer in a speech said that from what he had heard, Mr Midshipman Roberts and Mr Ensign Long would become ornaments of the services to which they belonged.

And so they did, and the truest of friends, when they did not quarrel, though really their squabbles only cemented their friendship the stronger.

They both visited Mr and Mrs Frank Murray at their pretty bungalow at Parang, where Rachel was settled down so long as her father retained his post at the residency; but their most enjoyable visits were, as years went by, to their friend the sultan, who was fast improving the country, and encouraging his people to become more commercial, in place of the arrant pirates they had been. For in a very short time in the settlement of the country under British protection, the rank of sultan had been offered to the Tumongong, who refused it in favour of his son Ali, and this was ratified by the Governor of the Straits—Sultan Hamet dying a victim to excess, and the piratical Rajah Gantang of his wounds.

Which was, so said old Dick in confidence to the two young officers, “a blessing to everybody consarned, for that there Rajah Gantang was about the wussest nigger as ever suffered from the want of soap.”

The last the writer heard of Dick was, that he was the oldest boatswain in the service, and that he was on board that rapid gunboat the “Peregrine,” commanded by Lieutenant Robert Roberts, RN.

It need only be added that Captain Smithers got over his disappointment, and two years later married Mary Sinclair, who makes him an excellent wife. So that none of those concerned had cause to regret the trip up the Malay river in HMS “Startler.”

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