Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.Before the Rajah.At the same moment that the doctor was speaking, Ned had caught sight of something glittering in the sun above the green shrubs that bordered the bamboo fence, and directly after that there was quite a blaze of yellow and scarlet colour as a party of Malays reached the gate and entered the grounds, a little group of swarthy-looking spearmen halting in the path, while two stately-looking men, with handkerchiefs tied turban fashion about their heads, came slowly up to the steps. The doctor descended to meet them, and then ushered them into the verandah where they saluted the ladies courteously, and then bowed gravely to the strangers, to whom they were introduced as two of the chief officers of the rajah in the most formal way; after which, as a brief conversation took place in the Malay tongue, and gave Ned the opportunity to examine their silken jackets and gay kilt-like sarongs in which were stuck their krises with the handles covered by the twisted folds, the doctor turned to Murray.“These gentlemen,” he said, “have been sent by his highness the rajah to ask why you have come here, and to desire your presence before him.”“Tell them,” said Murray, “that I am sorry I cannot speak their tongue; and that as I am going on at once, I beg the rajah will excuse me from waiting upon him.”“My dear sir,” whispered Mr Braine; but Murray flushed a little, and went on:“Tell the rajah, please, that I am an English gentleman, a subject of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, travelling with my nephew to collect objects of natural history, and that I shall be obliged if he will give me a safe conduct to pass through his country unmolested by his people.”An answer to this was made at once by the elder and more grave-looking of the two Malays, showing that, though he spoke in his own language to the doctor, he had comprehended every word that had been said.The doctor listened, and then interpreted again to Murray.“The Tumongong desires me to say that he is sure his highness will be glad to further your wishes, but that he dare not go back and deliver such a message. You will excuse me for saying so, Mr Murray, but you must obey, and at once.”“And suppose I refuse, sir?” said Murray, warmly. “British gentlemen are not accustomed to be told that they must.”“No,” said the doctor, smiling, “and do not like it; but there are times when Englishmen and Scotchmen find that they must submit to circumstances—eh, Braine?—eh, Greig?”“Oh yes,” said the merchant, taking out his snuff-box, opening it, and offering it to each of the Malay gentlemen, who bowed gravely, and took a pinch.“It is not pleasant, I know, sir,” said Mr Braine quietly; “but may I, as a fellow-countryman, offer you a little advice?”“Of course.”“Then pray go, sir. And, excuse me for saying, it would be uncourteous not to obey the summons. Vous parlez Français?” he added quietly.“Yes, badly.”“Croyez moi: il faut.”Ned noticed a slight twitching of the Tumongong’s facial muscles, and an intent look in his eyes, as if he were trying to understand the last words, which puzzled him.“I am at his highness’s service,” said Murray, abruptly. “Come Ned, you may as well come too.”The chief officer smiled gravely, and placed himself beside Murray, his companion following his example, and walking up to Ned. Then they both bowed politely to the ladies, and signed to the visitors to go toward the steps.“You are coming, then?” said Murray, as he saw Mr Braine step forward.“I? Oh yes. You will want an interpreter,” said the gentleman addressed.“Excuse me a moment,” said Murray, addressing the Malay chief.—“Ladies, I’ll say good-bye once more, and thank you heartily for your kindness to us.”“You can do that later on,” said the doctor, quietly. “If you do go to-day, of course we shall come and see you off.”“To be sure. Thank you,” said Murray smiling.—“Now, gentlemen, I am at your service. I see that you speak English.”“Understand? yes,” said the chief officer; “speak? no.”By this time they were in the garden, the group of swarthy spearmen standing back in line with military precision, and holding their weapons at the salute as the party passed them, and then falling in behind to march after them in a way which showed that they had been carefully drilled.“Come, Ned,” said Murray, as they passed out of the gate, “don’t look so serious, lad; they are not leading us out to execution.”“Did I look serious, uncle?” said the boy merrily. “I was not thinking that, but of our clothes.”“Eh, what about them, lad?”“That they look very rough and shabby beside these grand dresses. We hardly seem lit to go to court.”“Not our fault, boy. It is a special invitation,” replied Murray merrily.—“We must study up the Malay language so as to be independent, Mr Braine.”“I should advise you to master it as soon as you can,” said that gentleman, who was now walking beside them as they threaded their way in and out among the houses, where every now and then they could catch a glimpse of a pair of eyes watching them, though the people they passed took not the slightest notice of them, or just glanced, turned their betel-nut in their mouths, and went on chewing it with their eyes half-closed, as if the coming of strangers was not of the slightest importance to them.“Is it far to the palace?” asked Murray, giving Ned a quaint look.“Just beyond those houses, and amongst the group of trees you can see over their roofs,” said Mr Braine; and he then turned and spoke to the officers, who replied to him in Malay.“His highness is waiting to give you audience,” he continued. “Mr Murray, I do not like to force advice upon a stranger, but I should like to say, for your own sake and that of your young friend, try to accept the position in which you find yourself, however hard it may be. And,” he added in a whisper, looking sharply at Ned, “whatever you see, do not laugh. Eastern gentlemen are extremely sensitive to ridicule.”“I shall not laugh,” said Ned quietly; and then he began thinking about the punctilious ways of his companions till they had passed the last houses, entered a patch of forest, and from that came suddenly upon a clearing where a spacious bamboo house stood half hidden by a clump of umbrageous trees, beneath one of which was drawn up a group which at the first glance made the boy wonder whether he was gazing at a scene in real life, or some imaginary picture from an eastern tale.The first figure upon which Ned’s eyes rested was seated in the centre of the group, on a quaintly made stool, and his gorgeous dress immediately suggested that this must be the great man himself whom they had come to see. For he was evidently got up expressly for the occasion, with his courtiers carefully arranged about him, some standing behind and on either side, but for the most part squatted down on the sandy ground in the position affected by eastern people, though here and there one could be seen right down cross-leggedà la turque.The rajah was the only one in European costume, and at the first glance at the man, with his heavy fat sensual-looking face and lurid eyes, Ned recalled his companion’s words: “Whatever you see, do not laugh.”He felt at once the value of the advice, as his eye ran over the chief’s costume, for he was gorgeously arrayed in a military tunic and trousers undoubtedly made in London to order, the tailor having had instructions to prepare for his highness a dress that would be striking and impressive, and from this point of view he had done his work well. The trousers were blue with gold stripes, of the most elaborate floral pattern, such as decorate levee uniforms; and, after the fashion of our most gaily-dressed hussars of fifty years ago, there were wonderful specimens of embroidery part of the way down the front of the thigh. But the tunic was the dazzling part of the show, for it was of the regular military scarlet, and was neither that of field-marshal, dragoon, nor hussar, but a combination of all three, frogged, roped, and embroidered in gold, and furnished with a magnificent pair of twisted epaulets. Across the breast was a gorgeous belt, one mass of gold ornamentation, while the sword-belt and slings were similarly encrusted, and the sabre and sheath—carefully placed between his legs, so that it could be seen to the best advantage—was a splendid specimen of the goldsmiths’ and sword-cutlers’ art, and would have been greatly admired in a museum. To complete the effect, the rajah wore an Astrakan busby, surmounted by a tall scarlet egret-plume, similar to that worn by a horse-artillery officer of the British army, the cap being corded, starred, and held in place by a golden chain cheek-strap.The effect ought to have been most striking, and so it was in one way; but it was spoiled by the presence of a jetty-black Malay attendant, dressed in an ordinary dark paletôt and military-looking cap, holding over the rajah’s head a white sun umbrella of common cotton, and the fact patent to any Englishman, that the uniform must have been ordered without the customary visit to the tailor, the result destroying everything with the horribly striking truth that it did not fit!Ned bit his tongue hard, and gazed to right and left at the swarthy courtiers of the monarch, six of whom were squatted down in the front row, some in little military caps, others in brilliant kerchiefs tied turban fashion about their heads, and all wearing brilliant silken sarongs. These were the rajah’s sword-bearers, and each held by the ornamental sheath a kris or parang of singular workmanship, with the hilt resting against the right shoulder. The rest of the rajah’s people were picturesquely arranged, and in their native dress looked to a man far better than their ruler, who was the incongruous spot in the group, which was impressive enough to an English lad, with its lurid fierce-looking faces and dark oily eyes peering from the mass of yellow and scarlet, while everywhere, though with the hilt covered by the folds of the sarong, could be made out the fact that each man carried at his waist a deadly-looking kris.All this was seen at a glance as they advanced, and Ned had thoroughly crushed down the desire to laugh at the dark potentate, when his uncle nearly made him explode by whispering: “Make your fortune, Ned. Buy the whole party for Madame Tussaud’s.”He was saved from a horrible breach of court etiquette by the two officials advancing, bowing low to the rajah, and making a short speech to his highness, who nodded and scowled while the guard of spearmen formed up in a row behind, and Mr Braine saluted in military fashion, and went and stood half behind at the rajah’s left elbow, listened to something the great man said, and then looked at the two visitors.“His highness bids me say that you are welcome to his court.”“We thank his highness,” said Murray, frankly. Then to Ned: “Do as I do;” and he advanced and held out his hand.There was a slight movement amongst the sword-bearers and officials, and a dozen fierce-looking men seemed ready to spring forward at this display of equality. But the rajah did not resent it; he smiled, rose, and took the extended hands in turn, making his plume vibrate and his busby topple forward, so that it dropped right off, and would have fallen in the dust but for the activity of Ned. He caught it and returned it to the wearer, who frowned with annoyance as he replaced it in its proper position.“Dank you,” he said, quite surlily, and he shook hands now. “How der doo?”This last word was prolonged with quite a growl.“Quite well, and glad to pay our compliments to your highness,” said Murray.The rajah’s brow puckered, and he stared heavily, first at his visitors and then at Mr Braine, for he had reached the end of his English.That individual came to his rescue, however, and after a few formal compliments had passed, with the people all listening in stolid silence, Murray requested through his interpreter permission to pass on through the rajah’s country.This brought forth a series of questions as to what the visitors would collect, and answers respecting birds, animals, and plants.The rajah listened to the answers, and then said something eagerly to Mr Braine.“His highness wishes to know if you understand anything about minerals and metals,” said the latter.“Yes, I have made mineralogy and geology something of a study,” replied Murray; and this being interpreted, the rajah spoke again for some little time with more animation than might have been expected from so heavy and dull a man.“I’m getting tired of this, Ned,” whispered Murray.“Oh, it’s worth seeing, uncle. It will be something to talk about when we get home.”“Yes, boy; but I want nature, not art of this kind.”“Mr Murray,” said their interpreter just then, after clearing his voice with a cough, as if to get rid of something which tickled his throat, and drawing him and Ned aside, “his highness desires me to say that he, is very glad to welcome to his court so eminent a naturalist.”“My dear Mr Braine,” said Murray, interrupting, “we are fellow-countrymen. Never mind the flowery part; let’s have the plain English of it all.”“My dear fellow, I am translating almost verbatim. His highness says that he has long wished to see a gentleman of your attainments, for he is anxious to have his country explored, so that the valuable metals, precious stones, and vegetable productions may be discovered. He says that you are very welcome, and that a house shall be placed at your disposal, with slaves and guards and elephants for expeditions through the jungle to the mountains. One of his dragon boats will also be placed at your service for expeditions up the river, and he wishes you every success in the discoveries you will make for him.”“For him!” said Murray, looking bewildered; “but I want to make them for myself, and for the institutions with which I am connected in London.”“Yes; it is very awkward,” said Mr Braine.“Tell him I am highly flattered, but I must go on to-day.—Well, go on: speak to him.”“I cannot. I dare not.”“Then I will.”“But you can’t; you do not know his language.”“Then I’ll show him in pantomime.”“My dear sir, pray do nothing rash. I understand this chief and his people. You are quite strange to their ways. I beg you for your own sakes to accept the position.”“But it is making prisoners of us, sir. English people are not accustomed to such treatment. I will not be forced to stay.”“My dear Mr Murray, you are losing your temper,” said Mr Braine. “Just let me, as a man of some experience out here, remind you of what, in cooler moments, you must know: I mean the necessity for being diplomatic with eastern people. Now pray look here. I know how annoying all this is; but on the other hand, you will have facilities for carrying on your researches such as you could not create for yourself.”“Yes; but I do not like to be forced.”“I know that. It is most objectionable.”“And I see through him as plainly as can be: he wants me to find out gold, or tin and precious stones, and other things for his benefit. It is degrading to a scientific man.”“You are perfectly right; but I must speak plainly. This man has perfect confidence in his own power, and he rules here like the Czar of Russia. My dear sir, be guided by me. You have no alternative. You cannot leave here, and he will have no hesitation whatever in imprisoning you if you refuse. Come, accept his proposal with a good grace, for your own and your nephew’s sake—I may add for the sake of the follow country-folk you have met here to-day.”“But my good sir,” said Murray angrily, “this idea of forcing me makes me the more indignant and obstinate.”“Yes; but forget all that in the cause of science.”Murray smiled.“You are a clever diplomat, Mr Braine,” he said. “Well I give way, for, as you say, there is no alternative.”“That’s right,” said Mr Braine eagerly, “and I hope you will not regret it. There, the rajah is growing impatient. He must not think you have spoken like this. I shall tell him that you have been stipulating for abundance of help.”“I do stipulate for that.”“And freedom to pursue your investigations in every direction.”“Yes; I stipulate for that too.”For some time past the rajah had been frowning, and loosening his sabre in its scabbard and clapping it down again, while Ned noticed that, as if anticipating an unpleasant reminder of their master’s anger, the people right and left squatted and stood like statues, gazing straight before them. But when Mr Braine left the two strangers, and went back to the fierce-looking chief and made a long communication, which he had dressed up so as to gloss over the long consultation and Murray’s defiant manner, the rajah’s face lit up, and showed his satisfaction, the courtiers and attendants relaxed, and began to chew their betel. Ned even thought he heard a faint sigh of relief rise from the group, as Mr Braine bowed and returned to where the newcomers were standing.“You have acted very wisely, Mr Murray,” he said. “Come now, his highness wishes to speak to you.”Murray could hardly crush down the feeling of resentment which troubled him, but he walked up with Ned quietly enough, and stood waiting and trying to attach a meaning to the words which the rajah said, feeling how valuable some knowledge of the language would be, and hardly hearing Mr Braine’s interpretation.“His highness bids me say that he will be most happy to meet your wishes with respect to accommodation, and freedom to explore.”The rajah spoke again.“And that boats, elephants, and men to clear a path through the jungle, are to be at your service.”There was another speech in Malay, which Mr Braine did not interpret, apparently for the reason that the rajah now rose from his stool, and took a step forward to tap both Murray and Ned on the shoulder, standing looking from one to the other, and rolling his great quid of betel-nut in his cheeks as he tried to recall something he wanted to say.At last a smile came upon his heavy features.“Goooood—boyahs,” he said thickly. Then, drawing himself up, he stood fast, holding the scabbard of his sword in his left hand, threw his right over and grasped the hilt, and then in strict military fashion evidently, as he had been drilled by an instructor, he drew his sword, saluted, replaced the blade, faced to the right, marched a dozen paces; faced to the right again, and marched toward his bamboo and palm palace, the loose fit of his tunic and the bagginess of his trousers showing off to the worst advantage, till he was covered by his followers, who also marched after him mechanically, sword-bearers, men carrying a golden betel-box and golden spittoon, courtiers, and spearmen. At last all were either in or close up to the house, only the two Malay chiefs, who had fetched the strangers from the doctor’s bungalow, remaining behind.These two came up to them smiling in the most friendly way, just as Murray said: “What about our boat and the men?”“Oh, they will be all right,” replied Mr Braine.“But the men? Am I to send them back?”“No; his highness desires that they stay.”Just then the chief who had been spoken of as the Tumongong—a kind of chief counsellor—made some remark to Mr Braine, who nodded.“These gentlemen,” he said, “wish me to say that they hope we shall all be very good friends, and that they will see the rajah’s wishes carried out as to your comfort.”“And our guns and things in the boat?”The Tumongong spoke at once.“You are not to make yourself uneasy. Everything will be right.”Then profound salaams were exchanged, and the Malays went toward the rajah’s house, while the Englishmen took the way that led to the doctor’s.“I am beaten, Mr Braine,” said Murray, rather bitterly. “I said I would go.”“You have acted very wisely, sir.”“Humph! Well, perhaps so,” said Murray, rather gruffly. “Here we are then, Ned: prisoners in the cause of science we’ll call it.—But it seems to me, Mr Braine, that if we do not mind our P’s and Q’s, we shall be prisoners indeed.”Mr Braine made no reply, but his looks seemed to endorse the other’s words.

At the same moment that the doctor was speaking, Ned had caught sight of something glittering in the sun above the green shrubs that bordered the bamboo fence, and directly after that there was quite a blaze of yellow and scarlet colour as a party of Malays reached the gate and entered the grounds, a little group of swarthy-looking spearmen halting in the path, while two stately-looking men, with handkerchiefs tied turban fashion about their heads, came slowly up to the steps. The doctor descended to meet them, and then ushered them into the verandah where they saluted the ladies courteously, and then bowed gravely to the strangers, to whom they were introduced as two of the chief officers of the rajah in the most formal way; after which, as a brief conversation took place in the Malay tongue, and gave Ned the opportunity to examine their silken jackets and gay kilt-like sarongs in which were stuck their krises with the handles covered by the twisted folds, the doctor turned to Murray.

“These gentlemen,” he said, “have been sent by his highness the rajah to ask why you have come here, and to desire your presence before him.”

“Tell them,” said Murray, “that I am sorry I cannot speak their tongue; and that as I am going on at once, I beg the rajah will excuse me from waiting upon him.”

“My dear sir,” whispered Mr Braine; but Murray flushed a little, and went on:

“Tell the rajah, please, that I am an English gentleman, a subject of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, travelling with my nephew to collect objects of natural history, and that I shall be obliged if he will give me a safe conduct to pass through his country unmolested by his people.”

An answer to this was made at once by the elder and more grave-looking of the two Malays, showing that, though he spoke in his own language to the doctor, he had comprehended every word that had been said.

The doctor listened, and then interpreted again to Murray.

“The Tumongong desires me to say that he is sure his highness will be glad to further your wishes, but that he dare not go back and deliver such a message. You will excuse me for saying so, Mr Murray, but you must obey, and at once.”

“And suppose I refuse, sir?” said Murray, warmly. “British gentlemen are not accustomed to be told that they must.”

“No,” said the doctor, smiling, “and do not like it; but there are times when Englishmen and Scotchmen find that they must submit to circumstances—eh, Braine?—eh, Greig?”

“Oh yes,” said the merchant, taking out his snuff-box, opening it, and offering it to each of the Malay gentlemen, who bowed gravely, and took a pinch.

“It is not pleasant, I know, sir,” said Mr Braine quietly; “but may I, as a fellow-countryman, offer you a little advice?”

“Of course.”

“Then pray go, sir. And, excuse me for saying, it would be uncourteous not to obey the summons. Vous parlez Français?” he added quietly.

“Yes, badly.”

“Croyez moi: il faut.”

Ned noticed a slight twitching of the Tumongong’s facial muscles, and an intent look in his eyes, as if he were trying to understand the last words, which puzzled him.

“I am at his highness’s service,” said Murray, abruptly. “Come Ned, you may as well come too.”

The chief officer smiled gravely, and placed himself beside Murray, his companion following his example, and walking up to Ned. Then they both bowed politely to the ladies, and signed to the visitors to go toward the steps.

“You are coming, then?” said Murray, as he saw Mr Braine step forward.

“I? Oh yes. You will want an interpreter,” said the gentleman addressed.

“Excuse me a moment,” said Murray, addressing the Malay chief.—“Ladies, I’ll say good-bye once more, and thank you heartily for your kindness to us.”

“You can do that later on,” said the doctor, quietly. “If you do go to-day, of course we shall come and see you off.”

“To be sure. Thank you,” said Murray smiling.—“Now, gentlemen, I am at your service. I see that you speak English.”

“Understand? yes,” said the chief officer; “speak? no.”

By this time they were in the garden, the group of swarthy spearmen standing back in line with military precision, and holding their weapons at the salute as the party passed them, and then falling in behind to march after them in a way which showed that they had been carefully drilled.

“Come, Ned,” said Murray, as they passed out of the gate, “don’t look so serious, lad; they are not leading us out to execution.”

“Did I look serious, uncle?” said the boy merrily. “I was not thinking that, but of our clothes.”

“Eh, what about them, lad?”

“That they look very rough and shabby beside these grand dresses. We hardly seem lit to go to court.”

“Not our fault, boy. It is a special invitation,” replied Murray merrily.—“We must study up the Malay language so as to be independent, Mr Braine.”

“I should advise you to master it as soon as you can,” said that gentleman, who was now walking beside them as they threaded their way in and out among the houses, where every now and then they could catch a glimpse of a pair of eyes watching them, though the people they passed took not the slightest notice of them, or just glanced, turned their betel-nut in their mouths, and went on chewing it with their eyes half-closed, as if the coming of strangers was not of the slightest importance to them.

“Is it far to the palace?” asked Murray, giving Ned a quaint look.

“Just beyond those houses, and amongst the group of trees you can see over their roofs,” said Mr Braine; and he then turned and spoke to the officers, who replied to him in Malay.

“His highness is waiting to give you audience,” he continued. “Mr Murray, I do not like to force advice upon a stranger, but I should like to say, for your own sake and that of your young friend, try to accept the position in which you find yourself, however hard it may be. And,” he added in a whisper, looking sharply at Ned, “whatever you see, do not laugh. Eastern gentlemen are extremely sensitive to ridicule.”

“I shall not laugh,” said Ned quietly; and then he began thinking about the punctilious ways of his companions till they had passed the last houses, entered a patch of forest, and from that came suddenly upon a clearing where a spacious bamboo house stood half hidden by a clump of umbrageous trees, beneath one of which was drawn up a group which at the first glance made the boy wonder whether he was gazing at a scene in real life, or some imaginary picture from an eastern tale.

The first figure upon which Ned’s eyes rested was seated in the centre of the group, on a quaintly made stool, and his gorgeous dress immediately suggested that this must be the great man himself whom they had come to see. For he was evidently got up expressly for the occasion, with his courtiers carefully arranged about him, some standing behind and on either side, but for the most part squatted down on the sandy ground in the position affected by eastern people, though here and there one could be seen right down cross-leggedà la turque.

The rajah was the only one in European costume, and at the first glance at the man, with his heavy fat sensual-looking face and lurid eyes, Ned recalled his companion’s words: “Whatever you see, do not laugh.”

He felt at once the value of the advice, as his eye ran over the chief’s costume, for he was gorgeously arrayed in a military tunic and trousers undoubtedly made in London to order, the tailor having had instructions to prepare for his highness a dress that would be striking and impressive, and from this point of view he had done his work well. The trousers were blue with gold stripes, of the most elaborate floral pattern, such as decorate levee uniforms; and, after the fashion of our most gaily-dressed hussars of fifty years ago, there were wonderful specimens of embroidery part of the way down the front of the thigh. But the tunic was the dazzling part of the show, for it was of the regular military scarlet, and was neither that of field-marshal, dragoon, nor hussar, but a combination of all three, frogged, roped, and embroidered in gold, and furnished with a magnificent pair of twisted epaulets. Across the breast was a gorgeous belt, one mass of gold ornamentation, while the sword-belt and slings were similarly encrusted, and the sabre and sheath—carefully placed between his legs, so that it could be seen to the best advantage—was a splendid specimen of the goldsmiths’ and sword-cutlers’ art, and would have been greatly admired in a museum. To complete the effect, the rajah wore an Astrakan busby, surmounted by a tall scarlet egret-plume, similar to that worn by a horse-artillery officer of the British army, the cap being corded, starred, and held in place by a golden chain cheek-strap.

The effect ought to have been most striking, and so it was in one way; but it was spoiled by the presence of a jetty-black Malay attendant, dressed in an ordinary dark paletôt and military-looking cap, holding over the rajah’s head a white sun umbrella of common cotton, and the fact patent to any Englishman, that the uniform must have been ordered without the customary visit to the tailor, the result destroying everything with the horribly striking truth that it did not fit!

Ned bit his tongue hard, and gazed to right and left at the swarthy courtiers of the monarch, six of whom were squatted down in the front row, some in little military caps, others in brilliant kerchiefs tied turban fashion about their heads, and all wearing brilliant silken sarongs. These were the rajah’s sword-bearers, and each held by the ornamental sheath a kris or parang of singular workmanship, with the hilt resting against the right shoulder. The rest of the rajah’s people were picturesquely arranged, and in their native dress looked to a man far better than their ruler, who was the incongruous spot in the group, which was impressive enough to an English lad, with its lurid fierce-looking faces and dark oily eyes peering from the mass of yellow and scarlet, while everywhere, though with the hilt covered by the folds of the sarong, could be made out the fact that each man carried at his waist a deadly-looking kris.

All this was seen at a glance as they advanced, and Ned had thoroughly crushed down the desire to laugh at the dark potentate, when his uncle nearly made him explode by whispering: “Make your fortune, Ned. Buy the whole party for Madame Tussaud’s.”

He was saved from a horrible breach of court etiquette by the two officials advancing, bowing low to the rajah, and making a short speech to his highness, who nodded and scowled while the guard of spearmen formed up in a row behind, and Mr Braine saluted in military fashion, and went and stood half behind at the rajah’s left elbow, listened to something the great man said, and then looked at the two visitors.

“His highness bids me say that you are welcome to his court.”

“We thank his highness,” said Murray, frankly. Then to Ned: “Do as I do;” and he advanced and held out his hand.

There was a slight movement amongst the sword-bearers and officials, and a dozen fierce-looking men seemed ready to spring forward at this display of equality. But the rajah did not resent it; he smiled, rose, and took the extended hands in turn, making his plume vibrate and his busby topple forward, so that it dropped right off, and would have fallen in the dust but for the activity of Ned. He caught it and returned it to the wearer, who frowned with annoyance as he replaced it in its proper position.

“Dank you,” he said, quite surlily, and he shook hands now. “How der doo?”

This last word was prolonged with quite a growl.

“Quite well, and glad to pay our compliments to your highness,” said Murray.

The rajah’s brow puckered, and he stared heavily, first at his visitors and then at Mr Braine, for he had reached the end of his English.

That individual came to his rescue, however, and after a few formal compliments had passed, with the people all listening in stolid silence, Murray requested through his interpreter permission to pass on through the rajah’s country.

This brought forth a series of questions as to what the visitors would collect, and answers respecting birds, animals, and plants.

The rajah listened to the answers, and then said something eagerly to Mr Braine.

“His highness wishes to know if you understand anything about minerals and metals,” said the latter.

“Yes, I have made mineralogy and geology something of a study,” replied Murray; and this being interpreted, the rajah spoke again for some little time with more animation than might have been expected from so heavy and dull a man.

“I’m getting tired of this, Ned,” whispered Murray.

“Oh, it’s worth seeing, uncle. It will be something to talk about when we get home.”

“Yes, boy; but I want nature, not art of this kind.”

“Mr Murray,” said their interpreter just then, after clearing his voice with a cough, as if to get rid of something which tickled his throat, and drawing him and Ned aside, “his highness desires me to say that he, is very glad to welcome to his court so eminent a naturalist.”

“My dear Mr Braine,” said Murray, interrupting, “we are fellow-countrymen. Never mind the flowery part; let’s have the plain English of it all.”

“My dear fellow, I am translating almost verbatim. His highness says that he has long wished to see a gentleman of your attainments, for he is anxious to have his country explored, so that the valuable metals, precious stones, and vegetable productions may be discovered. He says that you are very welcome, and that a house shall be placed at your disposal, with slaves and guards and elephants for expeditions through the jungle to the mountains. One of his dragon boats will also be placed at your service for expeditions up the river, and he wishes you every success in the discoveries you will make for him.”

“For him!” said Murray, looking bewildered; “but I want to make them for myself, and for the institutions with which I am connected in London.”

“Yes; it is very awkward,” said Mr Braine.

“Tell him I am highly flattered, but I must go on to-day.—Well, go on: speak to him.”

“I cannot. I dare not.”

“Then I will.”

“But you can’t; you do not know his language.”

“Then I’ll show him in pantomime.”

“My dear sir, pray do nothing rash. I understand this chief and his people. You are quite strange to their ways. I beg you for your own sakes to accept the position.”

“But it is making prisoners of us, sir. English people are not accustomed to such treatment. I will not be forced to stay.”

“My dear Mr Murray, you are losing your temper,” said Mr Braine. “Just let me, as a man of some experience out here, remind you of what, in cooler moments, you must know: I mean the necessity for being diplomatic with eastern people. Now pray look here. I know how annoying all this is; but on the other hand, you will have facilities for carrying on your researches such as you could not create for yourself.”

“Yes; but I do not like to be forced.”

“I know that. It is most objectionable.”

“And I see through him as plainly as can be: he wants me to find out gold, or tin and precious stones, and other things for his benefit. It is degrading to a scientific man.”

“You are perfectly right; but I must speak plainly. This man has perfect confidence in his own power, and he rules here like the Czar of Russia. My dear sir, be guided by me. You have no alternative. You cannot leave here, and he will have no hesitation whatever in imprisoning you if you refuse. Come, accept his proposal with a good grace, for your own and your nephew’s sake—I may add for the sake of the follow country-folk you have met here to-day.”

“But my good sir,” said Murray angrily, “this idea of forcing me makes me the more indignant and obstinate.”

“Yes; but forget all that in the cause of science.”

Murray smiled.

“You are a clever diplomat, Mr Braine,” he said. “Well I give way, for, as you say, there is no alternative.”

“That’s right,” said Mr Braine eagerly, “and I hope you will not regret it. There, the rajah is growing impatient. He must not think you have spoken like this. I shall tell him that you have been stipulating for abundance of help.”

“I do stipulate for that.”

“And freedom to pursue your investigations in every direction.”

“Yes; I stipulate for that too.”

For some time past the rajah had been frowning, and loosening his sabre in its scabbard and clapping it down again, while Ned noticed that, as if anticipating an unpleasant reminder of their master’s anger, the people right and left squatted and stood like statues, gazing straight before them. But when Mr Braine left the two strangers, and went back to the fierce-looking chief and made a long communication, which he had dressed up so as to gloss over the long consultation and Murray’s defiant manner, the rajah’s face lit up, and showed his satisfaction, the courtiers and attendants relaxed, and began to chew their betel. Ned even thought he heard a faint sigh of relief rise from the group, as Mr Braine bowed and returned to where the newcomers were standing.

“You have acted very wisely, Mr Murray,” he said. “Come now, his highness wishes to speak to you.”

Murray could hardly crush down the feeling of resentment which troubled him, but he walked up with Ned quietly enough, and stood waiting and trying to attach a meaning to the words which the rajah said, feeling how valuable some knowledge of the language would be, and hardly hearing Mr Braine’s interpretation.

“His highness bids me say that he will be most happy to meet your wishes with respect to accommodation, and freedom to explore.”

The rajah spoke again.

“And that boats, elephants, and men to clear a path through the jungle, are to be at your service.”

There was another speech in Malay, which Mr Braine did not interpret, apparently for the reason that the rajah now rose from his stool, and took a step forward to tap both Murray and Ned on the shoulder, standing looking from one to the other, and rolling his great quid of betel-nut in his cheeks as he tried to recall something he wanted to say.

At last a smile came upon his heavy features.

“Goooood—boyahs,” he said thickly. Then, drawing himself up, he stood fast, holding the scabbard of his sword in his left hand, threw his right over and grasped the hilt, and then in strict military fashion evidently, as he had been drilled by an instructor, he drew his sword, saluted, replaced the blade, faced to the right, marched a dozen paces; faced to the right again, and marched toward his bamboo and palm palace, the loose fit of his tunic and the bagginess of his trousers showing off to the worst advantage, till he was covered by his followers, who also marched after him mechanically, sword-bearers, men carrying a golden betel-box and golden spittoon, courtiers, and spearmen. At last all were either in or close up to the house, only the two Malay chiefs, who had fetched the strangers from the doctor’s bungalow, remaining behind.

These two came up to them smiling in the most friendly way, just as Murray said: “What about our boat and the men?”

“Oh, they will be all right,” replied Mr Braine.

“But the men? Am I to send them back?”

“No; his highness desires that they stay.”

Just then the chief who had been spoken of as the Tumongong—a kind of chief counsellor—made some remark to Mr Braine, who nodded.

“These gentlemen,” he said, “wish me to say that they hope we shall all be very good friends, and that they will see the rajah’s wishes carried out as to your comfort.”

“And our guns and things in the boat?”

The Tumongong spoke at once.

“You are not to make yourself uneasy. Everything will be right.”

Then profound salaams were exchanged, and the Malays went toward the rajah’s house, while the Englishmen took the way that led to the doctor’s.

“I am beaten, Mr Braine,” said Murray, rather bitterly. “I said I would go.”

“You have acted very wisely, sir.”

“Humph! Well, perhaps so,” said Murray, rather gruffly. “Here we are then, Ned: prisoners in the cause of science we’ll call it.—But it seems to me, Mr Braine, that if we do not mind our P’s and Q’s, we shall be prisoners indeed.”

Mr Braine made no reply, but his looks seemed to endorse the other’s words.

Chapter Six.Making the best of it.“Ned,” said Mr Murray, as they reached the doctor’s, “run and tell the boatmen we are going to stay,” and Ned started off.The boatmen did not seem in the least degree surprised upon Ned announcing to them that they were to stay for the present. “It is kismet—fate,” said Hamet, calmly.“I could have told ye that before,” said a voice; and, looking up, Ned saw the good-humoured sun-browned face of the Irishman just projecting over the edge of the bamboo jetty, where he lay upon his chest smoking a pipe.“Hullo! I’d forgotten you,” said Ned, who had come down very thoughtful and dull.“Faix, and I hadn’t forgotten you. Didn’t ye tell me to mind your duds and things in the boat, sor?”“They did; I didn’t. I say, if you knew that we should stay, why didn’t you— But never mind.”The man gave him a droll look.“There ye needn’t mind spaking out,” he said. “I know. The old ’un won’t let ye go away again.”“You know him?” said Ned excitedly.“Av course I do. He niver lets any one go that he wants to stay.”“Then why didn’t you, an Englishman—Irishman, I mean—”“That’s better, sor, though any one would hardly know me for an Irishman by my spache. Sure there are times when I haven’t a bit of brogue left. It’s the sun dhries it out of me, I think.”“But why didn’t you warn us?”“Because there’d a been a regular shaloo if I had. The other gintleman would have told your men here to pull away, and the dhragon boat would have been afther ye shying shpears, and you’d have been shuting, and the end would have been that ye’d been hurt; and think o’ that now.”“But we should have rowed right away.”“Divil a bit. They’d soon have caught ye or been firing their brass lalys at yez.”“What’s a brass laly?” said Ned.“Get out wid ye, sor: poking fun at me. Who said a wurrud about lalys? I said lalys.”“Well, so did I.”“Not a bit of it; ye said lalys.”“So did you.”“Not I. I said laly.”“Spell it then.”“Is it shpell it. Well then, l-e-l-a-h, laly. It’s a big brass blunderbush thing on a shwivel. There’s two of ’em on each of their prahus, and they send a ball about two pound-weight sometimes, and other times a couple o’ handfuls of old bits o’ broken iron, and nubbles o’ tin, and shtones. Annythin whin they’re spiteful.”“But do you mean to say they’d have dared to fire at a boat with two Englishmen in it—I mean a man and a boy?” cried Ned, flushing.“Oh, don’t go aiting yer wurruds like that, lad. Shure ye’ve got the sperret of a man in ye, if ye’re not shix feet high. An’ is it fire at a boat with Englishmen in it? Why, I belave they’d shute at one with Irishmen in, and I can’t say more than that.”“Then we’ve rowed right into a nest of Malay pirates?”“Oh no. You people at home might call ’em so, perhaps, but the old un’s jist a rale Malay gintleman—a rajah as lives here in his own country, and takes toll of iverything that goes up and down. Sure, we do it at home; only gintalely, and call it taxes and rates and customs. And they’ve got customs of the country here.”“But, I say,” said Ned, as he found that he was getting a deeper insight into their position, “the rajah will soon let us go?”“Will he?”“Come, answer me. How long will he want us to stay?”“Oh, for iver, I should say, or as much of it as ye can conthrive to live.”“You’re making fun of me,” said Ned, frowning. “But look here; you are not prisoners.”“Prishoners? No. Isn’t the masther the rajah’s owen chief docthor, and Mr Braine his prime-minister, field-marshal, and commander-in-chief.”“Then you people could go when you liked?”“Oh no. Divil a bit. The old un’s so fond of us, he won’t let us shtir, and he always sends four dark gintlemen wid shpears if I think I’d like to go for a walk.”“Then you are all prisoners?”“Don’t I tell ye no, sor. They don’t call it by that name, but we can’t go away.”“Oh, but this is abominable!” cried Ned, looking in the dry, humorous face before him.“Ye’ll soon get used to it, sor. But just a frindly wurrud. I’d be civil, for they’ve an ugly way of handling things here, being savage-like. There isn’t a wan among ’em as knows the vartue of a bit o’ blackthorn, but they handle their shpears dangerously, and ivery man’s got his nasty ugly skewer in his belt—you know, his kris—and it’s out wid it, and ructions before ye know where ye are.”“Yes; I saw that every man had his kris,” said Ned, thoughtfully. “But can you stay and look after the boat?”“Didn’t the masther say I was to. But nobody would dare to touch a thing here. Here he is.”Ned turned sharply, and saw a little party approaching, consisting of Mr Braine, the doctor, and Murray, with the Tumongong at their side.“Tim,” said the doctor, “you can superintend here. The men are to carry everything in the boat up to the house next but one to ours.”“The one close to the trees, sor?”“Yes. You will not want any other help. But mind that the boat is properly made fast.”“Shall I stay too, uncle?” asked Ned.“No; come with me, and let’s see our new quarters.”They were in the act of starting when the Malay chief by their side held up his hand to arrest them, looking along the river with eager eyes, where a boat, similar to the one which had first come alongside their own, could be seen approaching fast, half filled with men, eight of whom were working vigorously at the oars, while half a dozen more sat beneath the awning, with the blades of their spears thrust out at the sides, and glittering in the sun.“Have they got him, I wonder?” said the doctor half aloud.“Got whom?” asked Murray.“A Malay who offended the rajah by a serious breach, and broke out of his prison about five days ago.” He added a few words in the Malayan tongue to the Tumongong, who responded.“Yes, they’ve got the poor wretch,” said the doctor. “Well, he was a bad scoundrel. Let’s stop and see them land.”The second dragon boat was rowed quickly up to the jetty, the oars laid in, and the armed men landed, and stood ready while the rowers lifted out a savagely defiant-looking man, whose wrists and ankles were heavily chained. Then a couple of more showily-dressed Malays stepped out, a little procession was formed, and the prisoner was then led, with his chains clanking and dragging in the dust, away toward the rajah’s residence, the Tumongong talking rapidly to the fresh comers for a few minutes, and then rejoining the Englishmen to walk with them to the neat-looking house set apart for the enforced visitors.They went up the steps, to find the place light, cool, and rather dark, coming as they did out of the glare of the sun; but as their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, it was to see that the place was neatly covered with matting, and that there was a darker inner room with more mats, evidently intended for sleeping.“I should hardly have expected that you had houses to let,” said Murray, who, now that their position was unavoidable, seemed bent on removing any bad impression made by his rather warm display of temper.“We have none,” said the doctor. “This is the house of one of the minor chiefs, and he has been sent elsewhere.”“But really—I would rather—oh, we can make shift in a humbler place than this.”“It is the rajah’s orders that you should come here, and we are all bound to obey him.”“Oh, very well. Then we will obey,” said Murray. “Look, Ned, here are our traps already. But one moment, Doctor Braine, are our men to stay here too?”The doctor turned to the chief, who said quietly: “The man who is their servant is to stay. The others will have a house to themselves.”The next hour was spent in arranging their boxes and arms, Hamet assisting and calmly taking to his new quarters, as if nothing in nature could surprise him, and when all was done, Ned looked round eagerly.“Come, uncle,” he said; “it isn’t such a bad place after all.”“No; far better than I expected, but it wants one thing.”“What’s that, uncle?”“Liberty to do what we like, boy. If we had that, we could congratulate ourselves.”“Well, try and think that you really have it,” said the doctor. “There now, what do you say to coming up to my place to rest till dinner-time? Braine has promised to come.”Murray hesitated, but the doctor would take no denial, and leaving Hamet in charge of the place, they descended to find that the Tumongong, who had left them for a time, was again back, in company with the other officer.These made a communication to the doctor, who nodded, and the two officers then bowed gravely, and went away.“Message for you,” said the doctor. “You are requested—”“Ordered,” said Murray, drily.“Well, ordered, not to leave the village without asking permission, so that you may have an escort; but you are quite at liberty to go anywhere you please about the place.”“Ah, well,” said Murray, “I am not going to complain any more to-day. I have made myself a nuisance enough. Hallo, Ned, here comes your saucy young Malay friend.”Ned looked sharply round, the doctor having stepped forward hurriedly to speak to one of the Malays seated on the steps of his house, and there, sure enough, was the gaily-dressed lad they had seen that morning, followed by his companion of the boat carrying a basket and the rod the first had used.They saw them pass on, to be hidden directly by the trees, and they were still watching the place when the doctor returned.“Sorry to have left you,” he said. “One of my patients—he was mauled badly in a tiger-hunt, but he is coming round nicely now.”Ned pricked up his ears at the words tiger-hunt, and feeling more satisfied now with his new quarters, he followed the doctor into his garden, and then up the broad steps to the shady verandah, where a pleasant evening was spent, the dinner capitally served, Tim Driscol, now very neatly attired in white, waiting at table, and giving the scene quite a flavour of home. Then there were cigars and excellent coffee for the gentlemen, and a delightful long chat with the ladies beneath the shaded lamp which hung from one of the bamboo rafters, the doctor’s daughter readily answering Ned’s questions about their life and the natural history of the place. Of the former, he learned that the doctor had been persuaded while at Malacca to accept the post through the Tumongong, who was there on some kind of embassy. The terms had been tempting, and it had been arranged that he was to take his wife and daughter with him, all hesitation vanishing when the Malay chief introduced him to Mr Braine, who accepted his post directly he found that he would have the society of an Englishman, and in the end he too had brought his family. Their reception had been most cordial, and they had only to ask for any addition to their comfort to have it instantly granted by the rajah. He would give them everything, in fact, but liberty.“Then you are quite prisoners too?” said Ned, who had listened to all this with the greatest of interest.“I suppose so. Both papa and Mr Braine were furious at first, and said that they would never forgive the Tumongong for having tricked them, but he said it was the rajah’s orders, and that he dared not have come back without a doctor, and an officer who could drill the men. And really he was so kind, and has always been such a good friend when the rajah has been in one of his mad fits, that we have all ended by liking him.”“But to be prisoners like this!” said Ned.“Oh, we seldom think about it now. Papa says we shall never be so well off again, and the rajah, who nearly kills himself with indulgence, has such bad health that he can hardly bear to see the doctor out of his sight, and consequently papa has immense influence over him.”“But I could never settle down to being a prisoner,” cried Ned.“Till you grow used to it. Oh, don’t mind; it is a whim of the rajah’s, and you will soon have leave to go. We never shall. There, hark! what did I say?”She held up her hand, and Ned leaned forward, peering out into the darkness as the low distant cry of a wild beast was heard.“Is that a tiger?”“Yes, and it is so common that we scarcely notice it now. They never come into the village; but of course it would be terribly dangerous anywhere beyond the houses.”Ned still leaned forward listening, as the cry was repeated, and then, in a low voice, he said: “Look, just where the light of the lamp shines faintly, I thought I saw the gleam of a spear. Can you see it?”“Oh yes! two—three,” replied the girl, quickly. “There are more.”“But what are armed men doing there?”“Don’t you know?”“No.”“They are your guard. But you need not take any notice of them. Of course they will follow you about, and keep watch over your house, but they will never speak to you, or seem watching, unless you are straying too far.”“This is pleasant,” said Ned, wiping his forehead.“Oh, you will not mind after a day or two, and it is best: for it really is dangerous for an Englishman to be up here unless he is under the protection of the rajah.”The pleasant evening came to a close, and after a friendly parting from their hosts, the two fresh additions to the rajah’s village walked back, Ned declaring that he could easily make out their house, and they smiled, passed out of the gate, and without catching a glimpse of either of the Malays on guard, they reached their own abode, where a shaded lamp was forming an attraction to the insects of the jungle, and Hamet was patiently awaiting their return.“What a strange experience, Ned,” said Murray, as they stood at the top of their steps, watching the bright stars and the fireflies which were gliding about among the low growth at the edge of the jungle, of which they caught a glimpse hard by.“But it is very beautiful and soft,” said Ned, thoughtfully. “What a lovely night!”“Yes; not much like being in prison, is it?”“No,” said Ned; but, as he gazed, he could see the shadowy form of one of the guards, a fact which he did not mention, though the fact of the proximity of armed men seemed strange in connection with his uncle’s next words.“We will not tug at the tether for a few days or weeks, Ned,” he said. “I daresay we shall get some rare collecting, and when we are tired, we’ll slip down to the boat some night and get right away. Hamet, I daresay, could manage that.”“He would do his best, sir,” said the Malay, gravely.“Then now for a good comfortable snooze on those clean mats, for I’m tired out. Come along, Ned. Good-night, Hamet. Where do you sleep?”“Across the door, sahib,” said the man, who bore the lamp into the sleeping chamber, and then stretched himself across the entrance.“You can sleep too, Ned,” said Murray, yawning as he threw himself on his simple couch.“No, uncle,” said Ned. “I am going to lie and think a bit.”“Bah! Sleep, boy. It is only a bit of an adventure after all. Heigho-ha-hum! Good-night.”“Good-night, uncle,” said Ned, as he too lay down, hearing the distant cry of a tiger through the mat-screened door; and then he began thinking about the adventures of the past day, and how strange their position was.Only began: for in spite of tigers, mosquitoes, and the fact that fierce-looking Malay spearmen were about the place, Ned’s waking moments were moments indeed, and only few. Certainly not a minute had elapsed before he was fast asleep.

“Ned,” said Mr Murray, as they reached the doctor’s, “run and tell the boatmen we are going to stay,” and Ned started off.

The boatmen did not seem in the least degree surprised upon Ned announcing to them that they were to stay for the present. “It is kismet—fate,” said Hamet, calmly.

“I could have told ye that before,” said a voice; and, looking up, Ned saw the good-humoured sun-browned face of the Irishman just projecting over the edge of the bamboo jetty, where he lay upon his chest smoking a pipe.

“Hullo! I’d forgotten you,” said Ned, who had come down very thoughtful and dull.

“Faix, and I hadn’t forgotten you. Didn’t ye tell me to mind your duds and things in the boat, sor?”

“They did; I didn’t. I say, if you knew that we should stay, why didn’t you— But never mind.”

The man gave him a droll look.

“There ye needn’t mind spaking out,” he said. “I know. The old ’un won’t let ye go away again.”

“You know him?” said Ned excitedly.

“Av course I do. He niver lets any one go that he wants to stay.”

“Then why didn’t you, an Englishman—Irishman, I mean—”

“That’s better, sor, though any one would hardly know me for an Irishman by my spache. Sure there are times when I haven’t a bit of brogue left. It’s the sun dhries it out of me, I think.”

“But why didn’t you warn us?”

“Because there’d a been a regular shaloo if I had. The other gintleman would have told your men here to pull away, and the dhragon boat would have been afther ye shying shpears, and you’d have been shuting, and the end would have been that ye’d been hurt; and think o’ that now.”

“But we should have rowed right away.”

“Divil a bit. They’d soon have caught ye or been firing their brass lalys at yez.”

“What’s a brass laly?” said Ned.

“Get out wid ye, sor: poking fun at me. Who said a wurrud about lalys? I said lalys.”

“Well, so did I.”

“Not a bit of it; ye said lalys.”

“So did you.”

“Not I. I said laly.”

“Spell it then.”

“Is it shpell it. Well then, l-e-l-a-h, laly. It’s a big brass blunderbush thing on a shwivel. There’s two of ’em on each of their prahus, and they send a ball about two pound-weight sometimes, and other times a couple o’ handfuls of old bits o’ broken iron, and nubbles o’ tin, and shtones. Annythin whin they’re spiteful.”

“But do you mean to say they’d have dared to fire at a boat with two Englishmen in it—I mean a man and a boy?” cried Ned, flushing.

“Oh, don’t go aiting yer wurruds like that, lad. Shure ye’ve got the sperret of a man in ye, if ye’re not shix feet high. An’ is it fire at a boat with Englishmen in it? Why, I belave they’d shute at one with Irishmen in, and I can’t say more than that.”

“Then we’ve rowed right into a nest of Malay pirates?”

“Oh no. You people at home might call ’em so, perhaps, but the old un’s jist a rale Malay gintleman—a rajah as lives here in his own country, and takes toll of iverything that goes up and down. Sure, we do it at home; only gintalely, and call it taxes and rates and customs. And they’ve got customs of the country here.”

“But, I say,” said Ned, as he found that he was getting a deeper insight into their position, “the rajah will soon let us go?”

“Will he?”

“Come, answer me. How long will he want us to stay?”

“Oh, for iver, I should say, or as much of it as ye can conthrive to live.”

“You’re making fun of me,” said Ned, frowning. “But look here; you are not prisoners.”

“Prishoners? No. Isn’t the masther the rajah’s owen chief docthor, and Mr Braine his prime-minister, field-marshal, and commander-in-chief.”

“Then you people could go when you liked?”

“Oh no. Divil a bit. The old un’s so fond of us, he won’t let us shtir, and he always sends four dark gintlemen wid shpears if I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

“Then you are all prisoners?”

“Don’t I tell ye no, sor. They don’t call it by that name, but we can’t go away.”

“Oh, but this is abominable!” cried Ned, looking in the dry, humorous face before him.

“Ye’ll soon get used to it, sor. But just a frindly wurrud. I’d be civil, for they’ve an ugly way of handling things here, being savage-like. There isn’t a wan among ’em as knows the vartue of a bit o’ blackthorn, but they handle their shpears dangerously, and ivery man’s got his nasty ugly skewer in his belt—you know, his kris—and it’s out wid it, and ructions before ye know where ye are.”

“Yes; I saw that every man had his kris,” said Ned, thoughtfully. “But can you stay and look after the boat?”

“Didn’t the masther say I was to. But nobody would dare to touch a thing here. Here he is.”

Ned turned sharply, and saw a little party approaching, consisting of Mr Braine, the doctor, and Murray, with the Tumongong at their side.

“Tim,” said the doctor, “you can superintend here. The men are to carry everything in the boat up to the house next but one to ours.”

“The one close to the trees, sor?”

“Yes. You will not want any other help. But mind that the boat is properly made fast.”

“Shall I stay too, uncle?” asked Ned.

“No; come with me, and let’s see our new quarters.”

They were in the act of starting when the Malay chief by their side held up his hand to arrest them, looking along the river with eager eyes, where a boat, similar to the one which had first come alongside their own, could be seen approaching fast, half filled with men, eight of whom were working vigorously at the oars, while half a dozen more sat beneath the awning, with the blades of their spears thrust out at the sides, and glittering in the sun.

“Have they got him, I wonder?” said the doctor half aloud.

“Got whom?” asked Murray.

“A Malay who offended the rajah by a serious breach, and broke out of his prison about five days ago.” He added a few words in the Malayan tongue to the Tumongong, who responded.

“Yes, they’ve got the poor wretch,” said the doctor. “Well, he was a bad scoundrel. Let’s stop and see them land.”

The second dragon boat was rowed quickly up to the jetty, the oars laid in, and the armed men landed, and stood ready while the rowers lifted out a savagely defiant-looking man, whose wrists and ankles were heavily chained. Then a couple of more showily-dressed Malays stepped out, a little procession was formed, and the prisoner was then led, with his chains clanking and dragging in the dust, away toward the rajah’s residence, the Tumongong talking rapidly to the fresh comers for a few minutes, and then rejoining the Englishmen to walk with them to the neat-looking house set apart for the enforced visitors.

They went up the steps, to find the place light, cool, and rather dark, coming as they did out of the glare of the sun; but as their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, it was to see that the place was neatly covered with matting, and that there was a darker inner room with more mats, evidently intended for sleeping.

“I should hardly have expected that you had houses to let,” said Murray, who, now that their position was unavoidable, seemed bent on removing any bad impression made by his rather warm display of temper.

“We have none,” said the doctor. “This is the house of one of the minor chiefs, and he has been sent elsewhere.”

“But really—I would rather—oh, we can make shift in a humbler place than this.”

“It is the rajah’s orders that you should come here, and we are all bound to obey him.”

“Oh, very well. Then we will obey,” said Murray. “Look, Ned, here are our traps already. But one moment, Doctor Braine, are our men to stay here too?”

The doctor turned to the chief, who said quietly: “The man who is their servant is to stay. The others will have a house to themselves.”

The next hour was spent in arranging their boxes and arms, Hamet assisting and calmly taking to his new quarters, as if nothing in nature could surprise him, and when all was done, Ned looked round eagerly.

“Come, uncle,” he said; “it isn’t such a bad place after all.”

“No; far better than I expected, but it wants one thing.”

“What’s that, uncle?”

“Liberty to do what we like, boy. If we had that, we could congratulate ourselves.”

“Well, try and think that you really have it,” said the doctor. “There now, what do you say to coming up to my place to rest till dinner-time? Braine has promised to come.”

Murray hesitated, but the doctor would take no denial, and leaving Hamet in charge of the place, they descended to find that the Tumongong, who had left them for a time, was again back, in company with the other officer.

These made a communication to the doctor, who nodded, and the two officers then bowed gravely, and went away.

“Message for you,” said the doctor. “You are requested—”

“Ordered,” said Murray, drily.

“Well, ordered, not to leave the village without asking permission, so that you may have an escort; but you are quite at liberty to go anywhere you please about the place.”

“Ah, well,” said Murray, “I am not going to complain any more to-day. I have made myself a nuisance enough. Hallo, Ned, here comes your saucy young Malay friend.”

Ned looked sharply round, the doctor having stepped forward hurriedly to speak to one of the Malays seated on the steps of his house, and there, sure enough, was the gaily-dressed lad they had seen that morning, followed by his companion of the boat carrying a basket and the rod the first had used.

They saw them pass on, to be hidden directly by the trees, and they were still watching the place when the doctor returned.

“Sorry to have left you,” he said. “One of my patients—he was mauled badly in a tiger-hunt, but he is coming round nicely now.”

Ned pricked up his ears at the words tiger-hunt, and feeling more satisfied now with his new quarters, he followed the doctor into his garden, and then up the broad steps to the shady verandah, where a pleasant evening was spent, the dinner capitally served, Tim Driscol, now very neatly attired in white, waiting at table, and giving the scene quite a flavour of home. Then there were cigars and excellent coffee for the gentlemen, and a delightful long chat with the ladies beneath the shaded lamp which hung from one of the bamboo rafters, the doctor’s daughter readily answering Ned’s questions about their life and the natural history of the place. Of the former, he learned that the doctor had been persuaded while at Malacca to accept the post through the Tumongong, who was there on some kind of embassy. The terms had been tempting, and it had been arranged that he was to take his wife and daughter with him, all hesitation vanishing when the Malay chief introduced him to Mr Braine, who accepted his post directly he found that he would have the society of an Englishman, and in the end he too had brought his family. Their reception had been most cordial, and they had only to ask for any addition to their comfort to have it instantly granted by the rajah. He would give them everything, in fact, but liberty.

“Then you are quite prisoners too?” said Ned, who had listened to all this with the greatest of interest.

“I suppose so. Both papa and Mr Braine were furious at first, and said that they would never forgive the Tumongong for having tricked them, but he said it was the rajah’s orders, and that he dared not have come back without a doctor, and an officer who could drill the men. And really he was so kind, and has always been such a good friend when the rajah has been in one of his mad fits, that we have all ended by liking him.”

“But to be prisoners like this!” said Ned.

“Oh, we seldom think about it now. Papa says we shall never be so well off again, and the rajah, who nearly kills himself with indulgence, has such bad health that he can hardly bear to see the doctor out of his sight, and consequently papa has immense influence over him.”

“But I could never settle down to being a prisoner,” cried Ned.

“Till you grow used to it. Oh, don’t mind; it is a whim of the rajah’s, and you will soon have leave to go. We never shall. There, hark! what did I say?”

She held up her hand, and Ned leaned forward, peering out into the darkness as the low distant cry of a wild beast was heard.

“Is that a tiger?”

“Yes, and it is so common that we scarcely notice it now. They never come into the village; but of course it would be terribly dangerous anywhere beyond the houses.”

Ned still leaned forward listening, as the cry was repeated, and then, in a low voice, he said: “Look, just where the light of the lamp shines faintly, I thought I saw the gleam of a spear. Can you see it?”

“Oh yes! two—three,” replied the girl, quickly. “There are more.”

“But what are armed men doing there?”

“Don’t you know?”

“No.”

“They are your guard. But you need not take any notice of them. Of course they will follow you about, and keep watch over your house, but they will never speak to you, or seem watching, unless you are straying too far.”

“This is pleasant,” said Ned, wiping his forehead.

“Oh, you will not mind after a day or two, and it is best: for it really is dangerous for an Englishman to be up here unless he is under the protection of the rajah.”

The pleasant evening came to a close, and after a friendly parting from their hosts, the two fresh additions to the rajah’s village walked back, Ned declaring that he could easily make out their house, and they smiled, passed out of the gate, and without catching a glimpse of either of the Malays on guard, they reached their own abode, where a shaded lamp was forming an attraction to the insects of the jungle, and Hamet was patiently awaiting their return.

“What a strange experience, Ned,” said Murray, as they stood at the top of their steps, watching the bright stars and the fireflies which were gliding about among the low growth at the edge of the jungle, of which they caught a glimpse hard by.

“But it is very beautiful and soft,” said Ned, thoughtfully. “What a lovely night!”

“Yes; not much like being in prison, is it?”

“No,” said Ned; but, as he gazed, he could see the shadowy form of one of the guards, a fact which he did not mention, though the fact of the proximity of armed men seemed strange in connection with his uncle’s next words.

“We will not tug at the tether for a few days or weeks, Ned,” he said. “I daresay we shall get some rare collecting, and when we are tired, we’ll slip down to the boat some night and get right away. Hamet, I daresay, could manage that.”

“He would do his best, sir,” said the Malay, gravely.

“Then now for a good comfortable snooze on those clean mats, for I’m tired out. Come along, Ned. Good-night, Hamet. Where do you sleep?”

“Across the door, sahib,” said the man, who bore the lamp into the sleeping chamber, and then stretched himself across the entrance.

“You can sleep too, Ned,” said Murray, yawning as he threw himself on his simple couch.

“No, uncle,” said Ned. “I am going to lie and think a bit.”

“Bah! Sleep, boy. It is only a bit of an adventure after all. Heigho-ha-hum! Good-night.”

“Good-night, uncle,” said Ned, as he too lay down, hearing the distant cry of a tiger through the mat-screened door; and then he began thinking about the adventures of the past day, and how strange their position was.

Only began: for in spite of tigers, mosquitoes, and the fact that fierce-looking Malay spearmen were about the place, Ned’s waking moments were moments indeed, and only few. Certainly not a minute had elapsed before he was fast asleep.

Chapter Seven.A Morning Walk.When Ned Murray opened his eyes again, it was to gaze at the faint dawn which was making its way into the larger room; and he lay puzzled and wondering for a few minutes before he could quite make out where he was. Then it all came like a flash, and he looked across the room to dimly make out the figure of his uncle fast asleep.Ned lay thinking for a few moments and then rose softly, ready dressed as he was, and stole out, with the bamboo flooring creaking beneath his feet.At the top of the steps he found Hamet, and after a few words spoken in a whisper, Ned said: “I don’t suppose uncle will wake yet, but if he does, say I’m gone down to look at the river.”The Malay nodded, and showed his white teeth, and Ned stepped quietly down, looking sharply round to have hard work to restrain a start, as he caught sight of four swarthy sentries standing spear in hand. But he ignored their presence, and walked slowly along, but only to be aware of the fact directly, that two of them were following quietly in his steps, and looking, as he glanced back once, with his hands in his pockets and whistling softly, singularly ghostly and strange.For there was a heavy mist floating softly in the morning air, and as the boy slowly made his way among the houses, there was a feeling of chilliness that, in combination with the novelty of his position, made him shiver.His intention was to have a look round the place; and, after a glance at the doctor’s house with its charming garden, he walked first in one direction and then in another, conscious of the fact that his two guards were always a short distance behind, but apparently bound on quite a different mission, for they never seemed to look at him once.Suddenly he altered his mind, and turned back to have a look at the rajah’s own place, and in doing this he had to pass pretty close to the swarthy-looking spearmen, who merely drew back between two houses till he had passed, and followed as before.“Two for uncle and two for me,” said Ned at last. “Well, I never knew that I had two shadows before.”The light was getting a little clearer above the mist, which did not seem to rise above the tops of the cocoa-nut trees, and he had nearly reached the clump, in the midst of which was the clearing, when he suddenly noticed a dimly-seen figure glide out from among the trees, and another, and another—three who barred his farther advance.“He has his guards too,” thought Ned, and he turned back with the intention of going as far as the jetty, and then returning to see if his uncle was awake, when there was a sharpclank-clinkaway to his left.The sound was familiar, but he could not recall what it was, though it came nearer and nearer, apparently from down a lane of houses.Then, all at once, he knew. For from out of the mist came the dark figures of half a dozen men bearing spears, and directly after, between two more, the prisoner he had seen brought in the previous day; and as he caught a glimpse of the dark face, he could see that the man was slowly chewing away at his betel-nut.Six more spearmen followed, apparently led by an officer who marched erect behind the heavily-fettered prisoner, with one hand resting upon the handle of his kris.No one heeded the boy, and the party marched on toward the river-side, when, under the impression that the man was being taken down to embark once more, and be sent up or down the river, Ned followed, and his guard came now more closely behind.To Ned’s surprise, the leaders of the party turned off a little to the right, leaving the jetty on their left, and with it the smaller boats, but they were evidently making still for the river, and halted upon its bank, just in front of where, half hidden by the mist, the large prahu swung at her anchorage.“They are going to hail a boat from the prahu and keep him imprisoned there,” thought Ned; and as he fancied this, he began to consider how safe a place it would be for a man, so heavily chained that any attempt at escape by swimming must mean being borne down by the weight of his fetters.He walked close up, meaning to see the prisoner put on board the boat, but no one attempted to hail the prahu, and as Ned drew aside, he saw that the prisoner was led close to the edge of the swift river, which now began to look as if it were so much liquid opal, for bright hues of orange and purple began to gleam through the wreathing mist, and the plume-like dripping tops of the various kinds of palms stood out clearer in the coming light.“They are going to take off his chains first,” thought the boy, as he drew nearer still, no one paying the slightest heed to his presence; and he had a full view of the man as the spear-bearers drew up in two lines whose ends rested on the river, leaving their officers standing by the prisoner, and undoing his bonds.Ned was not half a dozen yards away, and a feeling of satisfaction pervaded him as he saw the wrists set free, and heard the chain clank as it was thrown on the ground.The fetters from the man’s ankles followed next, and fell to the ground, while Ned could not help wondering at the stolid aspect of the prisoner, who displayed not the slightest satisfaction at being freed from so painful and degrading a load.What followed was so quick that Ned had hardly time to realise what it meant, for the officer signed to the prisoner to kneel down, and he sullenly obeyed, while his lower jaw was working in a mechanical fashion as he kept on grinding his betel-nut. The sun was evidently now well above the horizon, for the gray mist was shot with wondrous hues, and the palm-leaves high overhead were turned to gold. There were sweet musical notes from the jungle mingled with the harsher cries and shrieks of parrots, and with a peculiar rushing noise a great hornbill flapped its heavy wings, as it flew rapidly across the river. In short, it was the beginning of a glorious tropic day for all there but one, who knelt sullen and hopeless, only a few yards from Ned, who stood spell-bound, now that he realised what was to happen, too much fascinated by the horrible scene to turn and flee.For, as the man knelt there with the guard of spearmen on either side, one Malay, who seemed to be an officer, but whom Ned realised to be the rajah’s executioner, took out a little handful of cotton wool from the folds of his sarong, tore open the loose baju or cotton jacket his victim wore, so as to lay bare the bronze skin upon his shoulder, and placed the wool over it like a loose pad just within the collar-bone.“Is he going to set fire to it and brand him?” thought Ned; but the next moment he drew in his breath with a hiss, as if he suffered pain, for the executioner whipped out, from its wooden sheath at his waist, a short kris with a curved handle and a dull thin steel blade. This he held with his left hand perpendicularly, with the point resting in the centre of the cotton wool, and in the momentary pause which followed, Ned saw that the culprit was gazing straight at him in a dull heavy way, and that his lips were moving as he still ground the betel-nut between his teeth.It was but a momentary pause, and then, quick as lightning, the executioner brought his right hand with a smart blow upon the curved hilt of the kris, driving it perpendicularly into the victim’s chest, transfixing his heart, and as rapidly drew it forth, while the prisoner fell back, without struggle or groan, splash into the river, where Ned saw him rolled over by the rapid current dimly-seen there, for the mist was heavy on the surface; but visible till there seemed to be a rush in the water, the dead man was snatched under, and the mist slowly rolled away, to leave the surface glittering in the morning sunshine, and taking a glorious tint of blue from the clear morning sky.Ned saw all this vividly, and then a mist gathered over everything again, as he tottered rather than walked a few yards to where he could throw one arm round a tall slim cocoa-nut tree, and hold on, for he felt sick, and he knew that the mist now was only in his eyes.But he saw the spearmen form up with military precision before and behind the executioner, as he calmly thrust his little kris back in the waist-folds of his sarong, and then the party marched off with their spears glittering in the morning sun, and from somewhere in the jungle a wild-fowl uttered his sharp short crow.“Am I going to faint?” thought Ned; and then he started and turned sharply round, for a voice said quickly: “Ah, my lad! You there?”Ned saw that it was Mr Braine standing before him, looking at him frowningly, and with an air of disgust.“Yes; I came for a walk,” stammered Ned, huskily.“And you saw that?”“Yes,” cried Ned, with a passionate cry, as his blood, which had seemed chilled and to flow sluggishly through his veins, now throbbed in his temples. “I could not stop them. I did not know. They have just murdered a man. He fell into the river, and—and—oh, it is too horrible!”“It was not a murder. It was an execution by the rajah’s command,” said Mr Braine, coldly. “You ought not to have come.”“I didn’t know, sir. I could not tell. I thought—I don’t know—I never imagined—”“I beg your pardon, my lad,” said Mr Braine, kindly. “I thought you were attracted by a morbid desire to witness the horrible.”“Oh no!” said Ned with a shudder. “I should have been too great a coward if I had known. But has this man the right to do such things?”“The rajah!” said Mr Braine, shrugging his shoulders; “he is king here in his own country. He has his tiny army and navy, and he has conquered the three petty chiefs nearest to his domain.”“But the English—the Queen,” said Ned. “It seems terrible that a man like this should have such power. Will not government interfere?”“No. How could it? But there, come with me, and try to forget what you have been seeing.”“But one moment, sir. Couldn’t you have interfered to save the man’s life? Did you know he was to be mur—”“Executed, my boy. Yes, and I appealed to the rajah for mercy; but he gave me so terrible an account of the man’s life that I was silenced at once. Come, you have plenty of time before breakfast. I want you to see my home.”Ned shivered a little as he gave a glance round at the scene, which looked so beautiful, that it seemed impossible that so great a horror could have taken place there. Then he followed the Resident, and awoke to the fact that they were alone.“Where are the men who were following me,” he said, and Mr Braine smiled.“Gone back to their quarters, I suppose,” he said. “They consider you are in my charge now.”Ned gave him a curious look, which his companion interpreted directly.“Very well,” he said, laughing; “think so if you like. I suppose I am your guard. Ah, here are your two friends,” for the Tumongong and the other officer came up hurriedly, and made a communication to the last speaker.“I must put you off, Murray,” he said, turning quickly to the boy. “The rajah is taken ill. You can wander about the place a bit; I daresay I shall be back soon.”He went off with the two Malay officers, and Ned hesitated for a few moments as to which direction he should take, and ending by making for the river higher up the stream, so as to get right away from the spot that he could not recall without a shudder. This part, too, looked particularly attractive with its groups of palms and large forest trees, some of which overhung the stream, one being covered with white flowers to its very summit.It was all very beautiful as he neared it, and he began thinking of how delighted his uncle would be with the orchids and other parasitical plants which cling to the boughs; but all at once, as he was looking round, he caught sight of one of his guards, and directly after of the other, for, as if by magic, they had reappeared, and the sensation of being watched again, coming upon the recollections of the morning adventure, seemed quite to rob the place of its beauty.“I may as well go back,” he thought to himself, after wandering for a short distance among the trees, and stopping at last to lay his hand upon a branch which overhung the river, so that he could lean out and gaze down into the dark clear water, with some vague idea of seeing whether there were any fish.He could see none, but it was very attractive to gaze down into that dark clear water with its patches of floating lotus-leaves, from among which rose the bright blue waterlily-like flowers. They seemed likely places for fish, and for a few minutes the grim horrors of the morning passed away, and he began to think of what a capital place that would be for carp-fishing, if it were an English river at home, and to wonder what kind of fish there would be there. For that there were fish he felt convinced, from a slight swirling movement he had seen, and the shaking of the stems and leaves once or twice, as if something were moving somewhere below.That smooth shadowy pool in the river was very beautiful, and the sun streamed down through the leaves like a silver shower, as Ned still thought of the fishing, and this brought up the recollection of the boy he had seen on the river and at his return at night.“Perhaps he’s the rajah’s son,” thought Ned. “No,” he continued inconsequently, “he couldn’t be, because the rajah has lots of wives, and of course he would have plenty of sons. I know,” he thought, after a pause; “he must be the Tumongong’s boy. He did look something like him. I shouldn’t wonder if its—”Ned’s thoughts seemed at that moment to have been cut off short, or, to use a railway phrase, shunted off on to another track—that is, from fancies about the Tumongong’s son to the fishy inhabitants of the river.For once more he noticed that about twenty feet from the overhanging bank, formed of twisted roots, on which he stood, one of the largest beds of floating lotus-leaves was being agitated by what must certainly be quite a large fish forcing its way toward him, till he could see its long brown back just beneath the surface, and gliding very slowly nearer.It was impossible to make out what it was for the leaves, two or three of which were pushed up, and sank down again while others were forced aside.It was quite fascinating to watch it, and Ned was longing for some fine tackle, when there was a sudden rustling in the boughs overhead, and a dark animal that he could not clearly distinguish began leaping and bounding about, chattering, shrieking, and making other strange noises, as it shook the boughs and ran out on one over the water, to hang down by one hand and a foot, chattering and showing its teeth menacingly at the big fish which was still slowly gliding nearer to the bank.There was no mistaking what the animal was now, and wondering at its comparative tameness, Ned’s attention was now diverted to what was the finest and most active monkey he had ever seen.“I didn’t know monkeys liked fishing,” he was saying to himself, when the movement in the water increased, the animal in the tree swung itself nearer, and there was a rush and splash just as the spectator felt a violent shock as if some one had seized him from behind, and losing his balance he fell backward, and then in alarm rolled over twice away from the river, and struggled up to his knees, just as a figure rushed at him again and dragged him farther away.

When Ned Murray opened his eyes again, it was to gaze at the faint dawn which was making its way into the larger room; and he lay puzzled and wondering for a few minutes before he could quite make out where he was. Then it all came like a flash, and he looked across the room to dimly make out the figure of his uncle fast asleep.

Ned lay thinking for a few moments and then rose softly, ready dressed as he was, and stole out, with the bamboo flooring creaking beneath his feet.

At the top of the steps he found Hamet, and after a few words spoken in a whisper, Ned said: “I don’t suppose uncle will wake yet, but if he does, say I’m gone down to look at the river.”

The Malay nodded, and showed his white teeth, and Ned stepped quietly down, looking sharply round to have hard work to restrain a start, as he caught sight of four swarthy sentries standing spear in hand. But he ignored their presence, and walked slowly along, but only to be aware of the fact directly, that two of them were following quietly in his steps, and looking, as he glanced back once, with his hands in his pockets and whistling softly, singularly ghostly and strange.

For there was a heavy mist floating softly in the morning air, and as the boy slowly made his way among the houses, there was a feeling of chilliness that, in combination with the novelty of his position, made him shiver.

His intention was to have a look round the place; and, after a glance at the doctor’s house with its charming garden, he walked first in one direction and then in another, conscious of the fact that his two guards were always a short distance behind, but apparently bound on quite a different mission, for they never seemed to look at him once.

Suddenly he altered his mind, and turned back to have a look at the rajah’s own place, and in doing this he had to pass pretty close to the swarthy-looking spearmen, who merely drew back between two houses till he had passed, and followed as before.

“Two for uncle and two for me,” said Ned at last. “Well, I never knew that I had two shadows before.”

The light was getting a little clearer above the mist, which did not seem to rise above the tops of the cocoa-nut trees, and he had nearly reached the clump, in the midst of which was the clearing, when he suddenly noticed a dimly-seen figure glide out from among the trees, and another, and another—three who barred his farther advance.

“He has his guards too,” thought Ned, and he turned back with the intention of going as far as the jetty, and then returning to see if his uncle was awake, when there was a sharpclank-clinkaway to his left.

The sound was familiar, but he could not recall what it was, though it came nearer and nearer, apparently from down a lane of houses.

Then, all at once, he knew. For from out of the mist came the dark figures of half a dozen men bearing spears, and directly after, between two more, the prisoner he had seen brought in the previous day; and as he caught a glimpse of the dark face, he could see that the man was slowly chewing away at his betel-nut.

Six more spearmen followed, apparently led by an officer who marched erect behind the heavily-fettered prisoner, with one hand resting upon the handle of his kris.

No one heeded the boy, and the party marched on toward the river-side, when, under the impression that the man was being taken down to embark once more, and be sent up or down the river, Ned followed, and his guard came now more closely behind.

To Ned’s surprise, the leaders of the party turned off a little to the right, leaving the jetty on their left, and with it the smaller boats, but they were evidently making still for the river, and halted upon its bank, just in front of where, half hidden by the mist, the large prahu swung at her anchorage.

“They are going to hail a boat from the prahu and keep him imprisoned there,” thought Ned; and as he fancied this, he began to consider how safe a place it would be for a man, so heavily chained that any attempt at escape by swimming must mean being borne down by the weight of his fetters.

He walked close up, meaning to see the prisoner put on board the boat, but no one attempted to hail the prahu, and as Ned drew aside, he saw that the prisoner was led close to the edge of the swift river, which now began to look as if it were so much liquid opal, for bright hues of orange and purple began to gleam through the wreathing mist, and the plume-like dripping tops of the various kinds of palms stood out clearer in the coming light.

“They are going to take off his chains first,” thought the boy, as he drew nearer still, no one paying the slightest heed to his presence; and he had a full view of the man as the spear-bearers drew up in two lines whose ends rested on the river, leaving their officers standing by the prisoner, and undoing his bonds.

Ned was not half a dozen yards away, and a feeling of satisfaction pervaded him as he saw the wrists set free, and heard the chain clank as it was thrown on the ground.

The fetters from the man’s ankles followed next, and fell to the ground, while Ned could not help wondering at the stolid aspect of the prisoner, who displayed not the slightest satisfaction at being freed from so painful and degrading a load.

What followed was so quick that Ned had hardly time to realise what it meant, for the officer signed to the prisoner to kneel down, and he sullenly obeyed, while his lower jaw was working in a mechanical fashion as he kept on grinding his betel-nut. The sun was evidently now well above the horizon, for the gray mist was shot with wondrous hues, and the palm-leaves high overhead were turned to gold. There were sweet musical notes from the jungle mingled with the harsher cries and shrieks of parrots, and with a peculiar rushing noise a great hornbill flapped its heavy wings, as it flew rapidly across the river. In short, it was the beginning of a glorious tropic day for all there but one, who knelt sullen and hopeless, only a few yards from Ned, who stood spell-bound, now that he realised what was to happen, too much fascinated by the horrible scene to turn and flee.

For, as the man knelt there with the guard of spearmen on either side, one Malay, who seemed to be an officer, but whom Ned realised to be the rajah’s executioner, took out a little handful of cotton wool from the folds of his sarong, tore open the loose baju or cotton jacket his victim wore, so as to lay bare the bronze skin upon his shoulder, and placed the wool over it like a loose pad just within the collar-bone.

“Is he going to set fire to it and brand him?” thought Ned; but the next moment he drew in his breath with a hiss, as if he suffered pain, for the executioner whipped out, from its wooden sheath at his waist, a short kris with a curved handle and a dull thin steel blade. This he held with his left hand perpendicularly, with the point resting in the centre of the cotton wool, and in the momentary pause which followed, Ned saw that the culprit was gazing straight at him in a dull heavy way, and that his lips were moving as he still ground the betel-nut between his teeth.

It was but a momentary pause, and then, quick as lightning, the executioner brought his right hand with a smart blow upon the curved hilt of the kris, driving it perpendicularly into the victim’s chest, transfixing his heart, and as rapidly drew it forth, while the prisoner fell back, without struggle or groan, splash into the river, where Ned saw him rolled over by the rapid current dimly-seen there, for the mist was heavy on the surface; but visible till there seemed to be a rush in the water, the dead man was snatched under, and the mist slowly rolled away, to leave the surface glittering in the morning sunshine, and taking a glorious tint of blue from the clear morning sky.

Ned saw all this vividly, and then a mist gathered over everything again, as he tottered rather than walked a few yards to where he could throw one arm round a tall slim cocoa-nut tree, and hold on, for he felt sick, and he knew that the mist now was only in his eyes.

But he saw the spearmen form up with military precision before and behind the executioner, as he calmly thrust his little kris back in the waist-folds of his sarong, and then the party marched off with their spears glittering in the morning sun, and from somewhere in the jungle a wild-fowl uttered his sharp short crow.

“Am I going to faint?” thought Ned; and then he started and turned sharply round, for a voice said quickly: “Ah, my lad! You there?”

Ned saw that it was Mr Braine standing before him, looking at him frowningly, and with an air of disgust.

“Yes; I came for a walk,” stammered Ned, huskily.

“And you saw that?”

“Yes,” cried Ned, with a passionate cry, as his blood, which had seemed chilled and to flow sluggishly through his veins, now throbbed in his temples. “I could not stop them. I did not know. They have just murdered a man. He fell into the river, and—and—oh, it is too horrible!”

“It was not a murder. It was an execution by the rajah’s command,” said Mr Braine, coldly. “You ought not to have come.”

“I didn’t know, sir. I could not tell. I thought—I don’t know—I never imagined—”

“I beg your pardon, my lad,” said Mr Braine, kindly. “I thought you were attracted by a morbid desire to witness the horrible.”

“Oh no!” said Ned with a shudder. “I should have been too great a coward if I had known. But has this man the right to do such things?”

“The rajah!” said Mr Braine, shrugging his shoulders; “he is king here in his own country. He has his tiny army and navy, and he has conquered the three petty chiefs nearest to his domain.”

“But the English—the Queen,” said Ned. “It seems terrible that a man like this should have such power. Will not government interfere?”

“No. How could it? But there, come with me, and try to forget what you have been seeing.”

“But one moment, sir. Couldn’t you have interfered to save the man’s life? Did you know he was to be mur—”

“Executed, my boy. Yes, and I appealed to the rajah for mercy; but he gave me so terrible an account of the man’s life that I was silenced at once. Come, you have plenty of time before breakfast. I want you to see my home.”

Ned shivered a little as he gave a glance round at the scene, which looked so beautiful, that it seemed impossible that so great a horror could have taken place there. Then he followed the Resident, and awoke to the fact that they were alone.

“Where are the men who were following me,” he said, and Mr Braine smiled.

“Gone back to their quarters, I suppose,” he said. “They consider you are in my charge now.”

Ned gave him a curious look, which his companion interpreted directly.

“Very well,” he said, laughing; “think so if you like. I suppose I am your guard. Ah, here are your two friends,” for the Tumongong and the other officer came up hurriedly, and made a communication to the last speaker.

“I must put you off, Murray,” he said, turning quickly to the boy. “The rajah is taken ill. You can wander about the place a bit; I daresay I shall be back soon.”

He went off with the two Malay officers, and Ned hesitated for a few moments as to which direction he should take, and ending by making for the river higher up the stream, so as to get right away from the spot that he could not recall without a shudder. This part, too, looked particularly attractive with its groups of palms and large forest trees, some of which overhung the stream, one being covered with white flowers to its very summit.

It was all very beautiful as he neared it, and he began thinking of how delighted his uncle would be with the orchids and other parasitical plants which cling to the boughs; but all at once, as he was looking round, he caught sight of one of his guards, and directly after of the other, for, as if by magic, they had reappeared, and the sensation of being watched again, coming upon the recollections of the morning adventure, seemed quite to rob the place of its beauty.

“I may as well go back,” he thought to himself, after wandering for a short distance among the trees, and stopping at last to lay his hand upon a branch which overhung the river, so that he could lean out and gaze down into the dark clear water, with some vague idea of seeing whether there were any fish.

He could see none, but it was very attractive to gaze down into that dark clear water with its patches of floating lotus-leaves, from among which rose the bright blue waterlily-like flowers. They seemed likely places for fish, and for a few minutes the grim horrors of the morning passed away, and he began to think of what a capital place that would be for carp-fishing, if it were an English river at home, and to wonder what kind of fish there would be there. For that there were fish he felt convinced, from a slight swirling movement he had seen, and the shaking of the stems and leaves once or twice, as if something were moving somewhere below.

That smooth shadowy pool in the river was very beautiful, and the sun streamed down through the leaves like a silver shower, as Ned still thought of the fishing, and this brought up the recollection of the boy he had seen on the river and at his return at night.

“Perhaps he’s the rajah’s son,” thought Ned. “No,” he continued inconsequently, “he couldn’t be, because the rajah has lots of wives, and of course he would have plenty of sons. I know,” he thought, after a pause; “he must be the Tumongong’s boy. He did look something like him. I shouldn’t wonder if its—”

Ned’s thoughts seemed at that moment to have been cut off short, or, to use a railway phrase, shunted off on to another track—that is, from fancies about the Tumongong’s son to the fishy inhabitants of the river.

For once more he noticed that about twenty feet from the overhanging bank, formed of twisted roots, on which he stood, one of the largest beds of floating lotus-leaves was being agitated by what must certainly be quite a large fish forcing its way toward him, till he could see its long brown back just beneath the surface, and gliding very slowly nearer.

It was impossible to make out what it was for the leaves, two or three of which were pushed up, and sank down again while others were forced aside.

It was quite fascinating to watch it, and Ned was longing for some fine tackle, when there was a sudden rustling in the boughs overhead, and a dark animal that he could not clearly distinguish began leaping and bounding about, chattering, shrieking, and making other strange noises, as it shook the boughs and ran out on one over the water, to hang down by one hand and a foot, chattering and showing its teeth menacingly at the big fish which was still slowly gliding nearer to the bank.

There was no mistaking what the animal was now, and wondering at its comparative tameness, Ned’s attention was now diverted to what was the finest and most active monkey he had ever seen.

“I didn’t know monkeys liked fishing,” he was saying to himself, when the movement in the water increased, the animal in the tree swung itself nearer, and there was a rush and splash just as the spectator felt a violent shock as if some one had seized him from behind, and losing his balance he fell backward, and then in alarm rolled over twice away from the river, and struggled up to his knees, just as a figure rushed at him again and dragged him farther away.

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