Chapter Five.The Officers’ Washing.“Oh, here you are, Mrs Smithers. Aunt was saying just now that she wondered you had not been up. I told her perhaps it was on account of the hot weather, for it has been terribly trying.”“Oh, bless your heart, Miss Minnie!” said the tall, sturdy, buxom-looking woman who had just set down a big basket in the veranda, “the weather doesn’t make no difference to me. Whether it’s hot or whether it’s cold, I have got to get my bit of washing done; though I am a bit tried when it comes to that mounsoon, or mounseer, or whatever they call it, when it’s such strange, hard work to get the things dry. But even then it ain’t fair to complain, for the soft water’s lovely, and plenty of it. But I am late again this week, and it has been very hard work to get the officers washed. ’Tain’t half-an-hour since I took young Mr Maine’s home to his quarters. I hope your aunt ain’t cross with me.”“Oh no, she’s not angry. She knew there must be some good reason. We were half-afraid you were ill.”“Not me, Miss Minnie! I’ve never no time to be ill; and if I had been, no matter how bad I was I should have been up here to the Doctor for one of his exhibitions, as he calls them. I’ve brought his white suit, miss, and it looks lovely. Shall I show it you?”“I know how it will be, Mrs Smithers,” said Minnie, smiling. “I am glad there has been nothing wrong.”“Oh, don’t you be glad, miss. It’s sorry I am.”“Why, what’s the trouble?”“Trouble, miss? Oh, my master again. He will never be happy till he is having the Rogues’ March played over him, and the buttons that I keep sewed on tighter than those of any man in his company cut off his beautiful uniform, and him drummed out as a disgrace to the regiment.”“Dear, dear!” said Minnie. “I am very sorry, Mrs Smithers.”“Yes; I knowed you would be, my dear, if you will forgive me for calling you so. You see, I have known you so long as such a dear, sweet young lady, with no more pride in you than there is in one of our Jenny-wrens at home.”“But what is the matter, Mrs Smithers?” said Minnie hastily, in an effort to change the flow of the bronzed, burly woman’s words into another direction.“You needn’t ask, my dear. The old thing.”“What! surely not drinking again? I thought he had taken the pledge, and that Sergeant Ripsy had promised you that he would keep a sharp eye over your husband.”“Oh yes, miss, that’s all right; and he daren’t go to the canteen, for they wouldn’t admit him. But what’s the use of that when he can manage to get some of that nasty rack, as they call it, from the first Malay fellow he meets? I’d like to rack ’em!”“It’s such a pity,” said Minnie. “Such a good soldier as he is, too. I’ve heard Mr Maine say that there isn’t a smarter-looking man in his company; and my uncle praises him too.”“Praises him, my dear!” said the woman, looking at the speaker round-eyed. “Praises him! A-mussy me, what for?”“He says he’s such a fine-looking man.”“Fine-looking? Oh yes, he’s fine-looking enough,” said the woman scornfully.“And that he is so strong and manly and hearty, and that he never wants to come on the sick-list.”“Sick-list! No, my dear, he dursen’t. He knows only too well that your dear uncle would know at once what was the matter with him.”“But he’s such a smart-looking fellow—so clean, Mr Maine says, that he is quite a pattern to the others when he comes on parade.”“Oh yes, that’s all right, my dear; but who makes him smart? Who cleans his buttons and buckles, and pipeclays him, but his poor wife? Why, many’s the time I have had to flannel his face and hands before he went on parade.”“Well, well,” said Minnie compassionately, “let’s hope he will improve.”“Improve, my dear? I’ve give up hopes. He says that the climate don’t agree with him, but when we was at Colchester he used to say he was obliged to take a little to keep off the colic, for the wind off the east coast was so keen; and the same when we were in Canada. That was when we were first married, and I was allowed to come on the strength of the regiment, many long years ago, my dear; and I have done the officers’ washing ever since, or I don’t know what we should have done. Then when we came out to Injy and it was so hot, he used to say if he didn’t have a little something he should be a dead man, because it was so horrid dry; and now we are stationed here he sticks out that he only takes a little to keep off the jungle fever. Any one would think he was fighting against being invalided home, but he don’t deceive the Sergeant, and he tells me that Joe will go too far one of these days; and he will break my heart if he does, and I’m always in a skeer as I think and think and wonder how far he will have to go before being sent home. I don’t know what’s to become of me if I am sent there. Home, sweet home, they calls it, Miss Minnie. I suppose you would like to go?”“Well, for some things, yes, Mrs Smithers; but I am very happy here.”“Of course you are, my dear. You are so young and pretty and good.”“Oh, nonsense, Mrs Smithers! I am very happy here because I think aunt likes me being companion to her, and dear uncle wouldn’t like me to go away.”“Of course he wouldn’t, my dear, bless him! for he’s a good, true man, though he does talk a bit hard sometimes, and every one likes him. See how good he is to all these Malay folk, who have no call upon him at all. Oh dear! it will be a hard time for every one when you do go away. I know I shall about cry my eyes out.”“But I am not going away, Mrs Smithers,” said Minnie laughingly.“Not going away, my dear? No, not this week, nor next week, nor next year perhaps. But you needn’t tell me; it would be against Nature for you to stop here always. Such a young lady as you can’t be allowed to do as she likes. All the same, though, my dear, I should be glad to see you go home.”“You would, Mrs Smithers?”“Yes, my dear, for I don’t think it’s nice for English womenkind to be out here amongst these betel-chewing, half-black people, going about in their cotton and silk plaid sarongs, as they call them, and every man with one of those nasty ugly krises stuck in his waist. Krises I suppose they call them because they keep them rolled-up in the creases of their Scotch kilt things. I often lie in bed of a night feeling thankful that I have got a good, big, strong husband to take care of me, bad as he is. For my Joe can fight. Yes, I often feel that we womenkind aren’t safe here.”“Oh, for shame, Mrs Smithers! Who could feel afraid with about three hundred brave British soldiers to take care of them?”“I could, miss, and do often. It’s all very well to talk, and I know that if these heathens rose up against us our British Grenadiers would close up and close up till the last man dropped. But what’s the good of that when we should be left with no one to take care of us? Oh, my dear! my dear!” said the woman, with a look of horror crossing the big brown face.“Mrs Smithers, you must have been upset this week, to talk like that.”“I—I ’ave, my dear; and it’s a shame of me to stand here putting such miserable ideas into your head; but I had a very hard day yesterday, for my Joe had been extra trying, and I couldn’t get a wink of sleep, for after being so angry with him that I could have hit him, I lay crying and thinking what a wicked woman I was for half-wishing that he was dead; for he is my husband, my dear, after all, and— Morning, ma’am—I mean, good-afternoon,” cried the woman respectfully. “I am so sorry to be late this week, and I hope the Doctor’s quite well.”
“Oh, here you are, Mrs Smithers. Aunt was saying just now that she wondered you had not been up. I told her perhaps it was on account of the hot weather, for it has been terribly trying.”
“Oh, bless your heart, Miss Minnie!” said the tall, sturdy, buxom-looking woman who had just set down a big basket in the veranda, “the weather doesn’t make no difference to me. Whether it’s hot or whether it’s cold, I have got to get my bit of washing done; though I am a bit tried when it comes to that mounsoon, or mounseer, or whatever they call it, when it’s such strange, hard work to get the things dry. But even then it ain’t fair to complain, for the soft water’s lovely, and plenty of it. But I am late again this week, and it has been very hard work to get the officers washed. ’Tain’t half-an-hour since I took young Mr Maine’s home to his quarters. I hope your aunt ain’t cross with me.”
“Oh no, she’s not angry. She knew there must be some good reason. We were half-afraid you were ill.”
“Not me, Miss Minnie! I’ve never no time to be ill; and if I had been, no matter how bad I was I should have been up here to the Doctor for one of his exhibitions, as he calls them. I’ve brought his white suit, miss, and it looks lovely. Shall I show it you?”
“I know how it will be, Mrs Smithers,” said Minnie, smiling. “I am glad there has been nothing wrong.”
“Oh, don’t you be glad, miss. It’s sorry I am.”
“Why, what’s the trouble?”
“Trouble, miss? Oh, my master again. He will never be happy till he is having the Rogues’ March played over him, and the buttons that I keep sewed on tighter than those of any man in his company cut off his beautiful uniform, and him drummed out as a disgrace to the regiment.”
“Dear, dear!” said Minnie. “I am very sorry, Mrs Smithers.”
“Yes; I knowed you would be, my dear, if you will forgive me for calling you so. You see, I have known you so long as such a dear, sweet young lady, with no more pride in you than there is in one of our Jenny-wrens at home.”
“But what is the matter, Mrs Smithers?” said Minnie hastily, in an effort to change the flow of the bronzed, burly woman’s words into another direction.
“You needn’t ask, my dear. The old thing.”
“What! surely not drinking again? I thought he had taken the pledge, and that Sergeant Ripsy had promised you that he would keep a sharp eye over your husband.”
“Oh yes, miss, that’s all right; and he daren’t go to the canteen, for they wouldn’t admit him. But what’s the use of that when he can manage to get some of that nasty rack, as they call it, from the first Malay fellow he meets? I’d like to rack ’em!”
“It’s such a pity,” said Minnie. “Such a good soldier as he is, too. I’ve heard Mr Maine say that there isn’t a smarter-looking man in his company; and my uncle praises him too.”
“Praises him, my dear!” said the woman, looking at the speaker round-eyed. “Praises him! A-mussy me, what for?”
“He says he’s such a fine-looking man.”
“Fine-looking? Oh yes, he’s fine-looking enough,” said the woman scornfully.
“And that he is so strong and manly and hearty, and that he never wants to come on the sick-list.”
“Sick-list! No, my dear, he dursen’t. He knows only too well that your dear uncle would know at once what was the matter with him.”
“But he’s such a smart-looking fellow—so clean, Mr Maine says, that he is quite a pattern to the others when he comes on parade.”
“Oh yes, that’s all right, my dear; but who makes him smart? Who cleans his buttons and buckles, and pipeclays him, but his poor wife? Why, many’s the time I have had to flannel his face and hands before he went on parade.”
“Well, well,” said Minnie compassionately, “let’s hope he will improve.”
“Improve, my dear? I’ve give up hopes. He says that the climate don’t agree with him, but when we was at Colchester he used to say he was obliged to take a little to keep off the colic, for the wind off the east coast was so keen; and the same when we were in Canada. That was when we were first married, and I was allowed to come on the strength of the regiment, many long years ago, my dear; and I have done the officers’ washing ever since, or I don’t know what we should have done. Then when we came out to Injy and it was so hot, he used to say if he didn’t have a little something he should be a dead man, because it was so horrid dry; and now we are stationed here he sticks out that he only takes a little to keep off the jungle fever. Any one would think he was fighting against being invalided home, but he don’t deceive the Sergeant, and he tells me that Joe will go too far one of these days; and he will break my heart if he does, and I’m always in a skeer as I think and think and wonder how far he will have to go before being sent home. I don’t know what’s to become of me if I am sent there. Home, sweet home, they calls it, Miss Minnie. I suppose you would like to go?”
“Well, for some things, yes, Mrs Smithers; but I am very happy here.”
“Of course you are, my dear. You are so young and pretty and good.”
“Oh, nonsense, Mrs Smithers! I am very happy here because I think aunt likes me being companion to her, and dear uncle wouldn’t like me to go away.”
“Of course he wouldn’t, my dear, bless him! for he’s a good, true man, though he does talk a bit hard sometimes, and every one likes him. See how good he is to all these Malay folk, who have no call upon him at all. Oh dear! it will be a hard time for every one when you do go away. I know I shall about cry my eyes out.”
“But I am not going away, Mrs Smithers,” said Minnie laughingly.
“Not going away, my dear? No, not this week, nor next week, nor next year perhaps. But you needn’t tell me; it would be against Nature for you to stop here always. Such a young lady as you can’t be allowed to do as she likes. All the same, though, my dear, I should be glad to see you go home.”
“You would, Mrs Smithers?”
“Yes, my dear, for I don’t think it’s nice for English womenkind to be out here amongst these betel-chewing, half-black people, going about in their cotton and silk plaid sarongs, as they call them, and every man with one of those nasty ugly krises stuck in his waist. Krises I suppose they call them because they keep them rolled-up in the creases of their Scotch kilt things. I often lie in bed of a night feeling thankful that I have got a good, big, strong husband to take care of me, bad as he is. For my Joe can fight. Yes, I often feel that we womenkind aren’t safe here.”
“Oh, for shame, Mrs Smithers! Who could feel afraid with about three hundred brave British soldiers to take care of them?”
“I could, miss, and do often. It’s all very well to talk, and I know that if these heathens rose up against us our British Grenadiers would close up and close up till the last man dropped. But what’s the good of that when we should be left with no one to take care of us? Oh, my dear! my dear!” said the woman, with a look of horror crossing the big brown face.
“Mrs Smithers, you must have been upset this week, to talk like that.”
“I—I ’ave, my dear; and it’s a shame of me to stand here putting such miserable ideas into your head; but I had a very hard day yesterday, for my Joe had been extra trying, and I couldn’t get a wink of sleep, for after being so angry with him that I could have hit him, I lay crying and thinking what a wicked woman I was for half-wishing that he was dead; for he is my husband, my dear, after all, and— Morning, ma’am—I mean, good-afternoon,” cried the woman respectfully. “I am so sorry to be late this week, and I hope the Doctor’s quite well.”
Chapter Six.Archie opens his Ears.The mess dinner was over, and the officers were sitting back by one of the open windows, dreamily gazing out at the dark jungle and breathing in with a calm feeling of satisfaction the soft, comparatively cool air that floated up on the surface of the swift river.It was very still, not a word having been spoken for some time; not a sound came from the native campong, while it was hard to believe that within touch of the mess-room there were the quarters of nearly three hundred men. But once in a while something like a whisper came from the jungle, suggesting the passing through its dense tangle of some prey-seeking, cat-like creature. But no one spoke; though, in a half-drowsy way, those seated by the window and a couple of dark figures outside in the veranda were straining their ears and trying to make out what caused the distant sounds. Then some one spoke:“Asleep, Archie?”“No. I was trying to make out what was that faint cry. Do you know, Down?”“Didn’t hear any faint cry.”“Listen, then.”“Can’t. Deal too drowsy.—Lots of fire-flies out to-night.”“Yes; aren’t they lovely?—all along the river-bank. They put me in mind of the tiny sparks at the back of a wood fire.”“A wood fire? What do you mean—a forest on fire?”“No, no; at home, when you are burning logs of wood and the little sparks keep running here and there all over the back of the stove, just like fireworks at a distance.”“Ah, yes, they do look something like that, just as if the leaves of the overhanging bushes all burst out into light.”“Yes,” said Archie; “and when the soft breeze blows over them it seems to sweep them all out.”“Good job, too,” said Captain Down. “We get heat enough in the sunshine without having the bushes and the water made hot by fire-flies.”“It’s wonderful,” said Archie.“Wonderfully hot.”“No, no; I mean so strange that all those beetles, or whatever they are, should carry a light in their tails that they can show or put out just when they like, and that though it’s so brilliant it is quite cool.”“Rather awkward for them if it was hot, in a climate like this. They look very pretty, though.”“Lovely!” said the subaltern enthusiastically. “I don’t know when I have seen them so bright. You can trace out the whole course of the river as far as we can see; and there above, the sky looks like purple velvet sewn all over with stars, just as if they were the reflections of the fire-flies.”“Bosh!” said Captain Down, striking a match to light a cigar.“Why bosh?”“Fancy—poetry. I think I shall have a nap. It’s too hot to smoke.”“Don’t.”“What! not smoke?”“No; don’t go to sleep. You will get fever.”“Who says so?”“The Doctor.”“Oh, bother!”“Now then, what do you say to going as far as his bungalow and telling the ladies that the river has never looked more beautiful?”Plosh!“Beautiful river!” said the Captain mockingly. “Like to take them on it perhaps in a boat?”“Well, it would be very nice, with a couple of good men to pole it along.”“Of course; and every moment expecting to see the horrible snout of one of those brutal beasts shoved over the side to hook one out.”“Nonsense!” said Archie impatiently.“Nonsense? Why, they often upset a boat when they are hungry, and lay hold of a nice, juicy native, to take him down and stuff him in some hole in the bank to get tender for the next feed.”“Oh, they would never attack a boat when men are splashing about with poles.”“Well, you don’t catch me taking ladies out on a dark night, unless it’s in a big dragon-boat with plenty of men on board; and then I should like to have a gun.”“They are horrible beasts,” said Archie, “and I wonder that the Malay fellows don’t try to exterminate them.”“Ah! Go in pluckily and make a decent use of those crooked krises of theirs. There would be some sense in having them poisoned then.”“Old Morley says he has never seen a kris-wound turn bad, and he has doctored scores. Says it’s all fudge about their being poisoned.”“Well, he ought to know,” said the Captain; “but there’s no go in these Malay fellows. I don’t believe they would stir even if they saw one of their women snatched off the bank where she had gone to fetch water.”The officer had been giving his opinions in a low, subdued voice, and Archie Maine was about to break out in defence of the people amongst whom they were stationed; but he closed his half-parted lips, for the silence within the mess-room was broken by the voice of the Resident, who suddenly broke out with:“To go on with what I was saying at dinner—”“Eh?” said the Major drowsily; and the two young men in the veranda turned slightly, to see, by the light of a faintly burning lamp, the old officer alter his position and re-spread a large bandana silk handkerchief over his head as if to screen it from the night air. “What were you saying at dinner?”“About its seeming such an anomalous position.”“What’s an anomalous position?” said the Major more drowsily.“Why, for me to be supposed to be here, for diplomatic reasons, to advise Rajah Suleiman as to his governing his people, and to have you and your strong detachment stationed at the campong.”“Anomalous!” said the Major, with a chuckle. “I call it wise. See what emphasis a body of fighting-men can give to your advice.”“Oh, but that’s dealing with the natives by force.”“Very good force too, old fellow; for I don’t believe that thick-lipped, sensual—looking fellow would take much notice of what you say if we weren’t here.”“Yes; but I want to deal with them by moral suasion.”“Rifles are much better. There’s no occasion to use them; it’s their being at hand if they are wanted that will do the trick.”“I don’t think it’s necessary,” said Sir Charles firmly. “I am getting on very well with the Rajah, and he listens to everything I advise with the greatest attention.”“Glad to hear it,” said the Major, with a grunt; “but it seems to me that he pays a deal more attention to that French chap than he does to you.”“Think so?” said Sir Charles sharply.There was silence for a few minutes.“Let’s get up and stroll round the lines,” whispered Archie.“Sha’n’t. ’Tisn’t time for visiting posts.”“But they’ll wake to the fact that we are listeners.”“Let ’em. They ought to know we are here.”“But they are talking business,” whispered Archie.“Well, it’s our business as much as theirs. Are you afraid that listeners will hear no good of themselves, and the Major will bring in something about your last prank?”“No;” and the lad twitched himself a little round in his cane chair, which uttered a loud squeak; and the Resident went on:“Yes, that fellow is rather a nuisance. His bright, chatty way and deference please the Rajah; and I suppose you are right, for he’s always proposing something that amuses the stolid Malay, while my prosing about business matters must bore him.”“I believe he’s an adventurer,” said the Major. “Don’t like him.”“Well, he doesn’t like you, Major; so that balances the account.”“I don’t know. What’s he here for?”“Oh, he’s a bit of a naturalist and a bit of a sportsman. Glad of a ride through the jungle on an elephant. Glad of his board and lodging. Bit of a student he thinks himself in his dilettante, Parisian way. Oh, there’s no harm in him.”“So much the better,” said the Major. “But what about that other fellow—what’s his name?—Hamet?”“Ah–h!” ejaculated the Resident, expiring his breath rather sharply, almost in a hiss. “I am rather doubtful about that fellow. I’m afraid he’s an intriguer.”“Why, there’s nothing to intrigue about in this jungle.”“Don’t you make any mistake, Major. There’s as much intriguing going on in this half-savage country as there is in Europe. That fellow Hamet, on the strength of his European education, is very anxious to be friends with me, and his civility covers a good deal.”“Good deal of what?” said the Major.“Politics.”“Politics! Rubbish!”“Oh no, my dear sir; not rubbish. This long, narrow Malay Peninsula is cut up into countries each ruled over by a petty Rajah, and these half-savage potentates are all as jealous of one another as can be. Each Rajah is spoiling for a fight so as to get possession of his neighbour’s territory, and if we were not here one or the other of them would swallow up Suleiman’s patch, and he, knowing this, submits as pleasantly as he can to the rule and protection of England, which keeps them safe.”“Do you think, then, that this young fellow Hamet has any of these grasping ideas?”“Think? I am sure of it. He wants to be very friendly with me; and what for?”“Well, I suppose,” said the Major, “he thinks you would be a very good friend, and lend him a company or two of men to help him against one of his grasping neighbours. What do you say?”“Between ourselves,” said Sir Charles, lowering his voice, “I think he goes further than that. He has his eye on Suleiman’s rich territory, and would like me to help him to sit in Master Suleiman’s place.”“Ho, ho!” said the Major. “And what do you say to that?”“Nothing,” said the Resident shortly.“Here, let’s go,” whispered Archie; and he started up from his chair, whose bamboo legs scraped loudly over the veranda floor.“Who’s that out there?” said the Major sharply.“Down, sir, and Maine.”“Oh,” said the Major; and then, “Is it any cooler out there?”“No, sir,” said Archie sharply. “I thought it was getting rather warm.”“Is any one else out there?” said the Resident, leaving his chair and stepping through the Malay French window out into the sheltered spot.“No, sir,” said Archie.“None of the servants within hearing?”“No, sir.”“Are you sure?”“Quite, sir,” said Archie, as he laid his hand upon one of the creeper-covered supporters of the roof.“That’s better,” said Sir Charles; and, followed by the Major, he began to stroll along past the mess-room windows towards where a sentry was on duty, watchful and silent, while Archie and Captain Down turned in another direction.“You needn’t be so precious thin-skinned about hearing what Sir Charles said to the old man. I don’t see why it should not be confidence for us, and— Well, what’s the matter? Giddy?”Archie responded by gripping his companion tightly by the wrist, and the two young men stood listening to a faint rustling away to their left, till every sound they could hear came from behind them, where their commander and the Resident were still talking at the end of the veranda in a low tone.“Hear that?” said Archie.“Yes. Cat or some prowling thing smelling after the remains of the dinner.”“If it had been anything of that kind we shouldn’t have heard its velvet paws.”“Perhaps not. What do you think it was, then? Not a tiger?”“No; I thought it must be one of the Malay fellows—a listener.”“Not it. What would be the good of his listening to a language he couldn’t understand?”“I don’t know,” said Archie. “Some of these Malays are very deep. Hadn’t we better say something to the Major?”“Rubbish! No! Why, if it had been some one lurking about, the sentry would have seen him.”“Yes,” said Archie thoughtfully.
The mess dinner was over, and the officers were sitting back by one of the open windows, dreamily gazing out at the dark jungle and breathing in with a calm feeling of satisfaction the soft, comparatively cool air that floated up on the surface of the swift river.
It was very still, not a word having been spoken for some time; not a sound came from the native campong, while it was hard to believe that within touch of the mess-room there were the quarters of nearly three hundred men. But once in a while something like a whisper came from the jungle, suggesting the passing through its dense tangle of some prey-seeking, cat-like creature. But no one spoke; though, in a half-drowsy way, those seated by the window and a couple of dark figures outside in the veranda were straining their ears and trying to make out what caused the distant sounds. Then some one spoke:
“Asleep, Archie?”
“No. I was trying to make out what was that faint cry. Do you know, Down?”
“Didn’t hear any faint cry.”
“Listen, then.”
“Can’t. Deal too drowsy.—Lots of fire-flies out to-night.”
“Yes; aren’t they lovely?—all along the river-bank. They put me in mind of the tiny sparks at the back of a wood fire.”
“A wood fire? What do you mean—a forest on fire?”
“No, no; at home, when you are burning logs of wood and the little sparks keep running here and there all over the back of the stove, just like fireworks at a distance.”
“Ah, yes, they do look something like that, just as if the leaves of the overhanging bushes all burst out into light.”
“Yes,” said Archie; “and when the soft breeze blows over them it seems to sweep them all out.”
“Good job, too,” said Captain Down. “We get heat enough in the sunshine without having the bushes and the water made hot by fire-flies.”
“It’s wonderful,” said Archie.
“Wonderfully hot.”
“No, no; I mean so strange that all those beetles, or whatever they are, should carry a light in their tails that they can show or put out just when they like, and that though it’s so brilliant it is quite cool.”
“Rather awkward for them if it was hot, in a climate like this. They look very pretty, though.”
“Lovely!” said the subaltern enthusiastically. “I don’t know when I have seen them so bright. You can trace out the whole course of the river as far as we can see; and there above, the sky looks like purple velvet sewn all over with stars, just as if they were the reflections of the fire-flies.”
“Bosh!” said Captain Down, striking a match to light a cigar.
“Why bosh?”
“Fancy—poetry. I think I shall have a nap. It’s too hot to smoke.”
“Don’t.”
“What! not smoke?”
“No; don’t go to sleep. You will get fever.”
“Who says so?”
“The Doctor.”
“Oh, bother!”
“Now then, what do you say to going as far as his bungalow and telling the ladies that the river has never looked more beautiful?”
Plosh!
“Beautiful river!” said the Captain mockingly. “Like to take them on it perhaps in a boat?”
“Well, it would be very nice, with a couple of good men to pole it along.”
“Of course; and every moment expecting to see the horrible snout of one of those brutal beasts shoved over the side to hook one out.”
“Nonsense!” said Archie impatiently.
“Nonsense? Why, they often upset a boat when they are hungry, and lay hold of a nice, juicy native, to take him down and stuff him in some hole in the bank to get tender for the next feed.”
“Oh, they would never attack a boat when men are splashing about with poles.”
“Well, you don’t catch me taking ladies out on a dark night, unless it’s in a big dragon-boat with plenty of men on board; and then I should like to have a gun.”
“They are horrible beasts,” said Archie, “and I wonder that the Malay fellows don’t try to exterminate them.”
“Ah! Go in pluckily and make a decent use of those crooked krises of theirs. There would be some sense in having them poisoned then.”
“Old Morley says he has never seen a kris-wound turn bad, and he has doctored scores. Says it’s all fudge about their being poisoned.”
“Well, he ought to know,” said the Captain; “but there’s no go in these Malay fellows. I don’t believe they would stir even if they saw one of their women snatched off the bank where she had gone to fetch water.”
The officer had been giving his opinions in a low, subdued voice, and Archie Maine was about to break out in defence of the people amongst whom they were stationed; but he closed his half-parted lips, for the silence within the mess-room was broken by the voice of the Resident, who suddenly broke out with:
“To go on with what I was saying at dinner—”
“Eh?” said the Major drowsily; and the two young men in the veranda turned slightly, to see, by the light of a faintly burning lamp, the old officer alter his position and re-spread a large bandana silk handkerchief over his head as if to screen it from the night air. “What were you saying at dinner?”
“About its seeming such an anomalous position.”
“What’s an anomalous position?” said the Major more drowsily.
“Why, for me to be supposed to be here, for diplomatic reasons, to advise Rajah Suleiman as to his governing his people, and to have you and your strong detachment stationed at the campong.”
“Anomalous!” said the Major, with a chuckle. “I call it wise. See what emphasis a body of fighting-men can give to your advice.”
“Oh, but that’s dealing with the natives by force.”
“Very good force too, old fellow; for I don’t believe that thick-lipped, sensual—looking fellow would take much notice of what you say if we weren’t here.”
“Yes; but I want to deal with them by moral suasion.”
“Rifles are much better. There’s no occasion to use them; it’s their being at hand if they are wanted that will do the trick.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary,” said Sir Charles firmly. “I am getting on very well with the Rajah, and he listens to everything I advise with the greatest attention.”
“Glad to hear it,” said the Major, with a grunt; “but it seems to me that he pays a deal more attention to that French chap than he does to you.”
“Think so?” said Sir Charles sharply.
There was silence for a few minutes.
“Let’s get up and stroll round the lines,” whispered Archie.
“Sha’n’t. ’Tisn’t time for visiting posts.”
“But they’ll wake to the fact that we are listeners.”
“Let ’em. They ought to know we are here.”
“But they are talking business,” whispered Archie.
“Well, it’s our business as much as theirs. Are you afraid that listeners will hear no good of themselves, and the Major will bring in something about your last prank?”
“No;” and the lad twitched himself a little round in his cane chair, which uttered a loud squeak; and the Resident went on:
“Yes, that fellow is rather a nuisance. His bright, chatty way and deference please the Rajah; and I suppose you are right, for he’s always proposing something that amuses the stolid Malay, while my prosing about business matters must bore him.”
“I believe he’s an adventurer,” said the Major. “Don’t like him.”
“Well, he doesn’t like you, Major; so that balances the account.”
“I don’t know. What’s he here for?”
“Oh, he’s a bit of a naturalist and a bit of a sportsman. Glad of a ride through the jungle on an elephant. Glad of his board and lodging. Bit of a student he thinks himself in his dilettante, Parisian way. Oh, there’s no harm in him.”
“So much the better,” said the Major. “But what about that other fellow—what’s his name?—Hamet?”
“Ah–h!” ejaculated the Resident, expiring his breath rather sharply, almost in a hiss. “I am rather doubtful about that fellow. I’m afraid he’s an intriguer.”
“Why, there’s nothing to intrigue about in this jungle.”
“Don’t you make any mistake, Major. There’s as much intriguing going on in this half-savage country as there is in Europe. That fellow Hamet, on the strength of his European education, is very anxious to be friends with me, and his civility covers a good deal.”
“Good deal of what?” said the Major.
“Politics.”
“Politics! Rubbish!”
“Oh no, my dear sir; not rubbish. This long, narrow Malay Peninsula is cut up into countries each ruled over by a petty Rajah, and these half-savage potentates are all as jealous of one another as can be. Each Rajah is spoiling for a fight so as to get possession of his neighbour’s territory, and if we were not here one or the other of them would swallow up Suleiman’s patch, and he, knowing this, submits as pleasantly as he can to the rule and protection of England, which keeps them safe.”
“Do you think, then, that this young fellow Hamet has any of these grasping ideas?”
“Think? I am sure of it. He wants to be very friendly with me; and what for?”
“Well, I suppose,” said the Major, “he thinks you would be a very good friend, and lend him a company or two of men to help him against one of his grasping neighbours. What do you say?”
“Between ourselves,” said Sir Charles, lowering his voice, “I think he goes further than that. He has his eye on Suleiman’s rich territory, and would like me to help him to sit in Master Suleiman’s place.”
“Ho, ho!” said the Major. “And what do you say to that?”
“Nothing,” said the Resident shortly.
“Here, let’s go,” whispered Archie; and he started up from his chair, whose bamboo legs scraped loudly over the veranda floor.
“Who’s that out there?” said the Major sharply.
“Down, sir, and Maine.”
“Oh,” said the Major; and then, “Is it any cooler out there?”
“No, sir,” said Archie sharply. “I thought it was getting rather warm.”
“Is any one else out there?” said the Resident, leaving his chair and stepping through the Malay French window out into the sheltered spot.
“No, sir,” said Archie.
“None of the servants within hearing?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite, sir,” said Archie, as he laid his hand upon one of the creeper-covered supporters of the roof.
“That’s better,” said Sir Charles; and, followed by the Major, he began to stroll along past the mess-room windows towards where a sentry was on duty, watchful and silent, while Archie and Captain Down turned in another direction.
“You needn’t be so precious thin-skinned about hearing what Sir Charles said to the old man. I don’t see why it should not be confidence for us, and— Well, what’s the matter? Giddy?”
Archie responded by gripping his companion tightly by the wrist, and the two young men stood listening to a faint rustling away to their left, till every sound they could hear came from behind them, where their commander and the Resident were still talking at the end of the veranda in a low tone.
“Hear that?” said Archie.
“Yes. Cat or some prowling thing smelling after the remains of the dinner.”
“If it had been anything of that kind we shouldn’t have heard its velvet paws.”
“Perhaps not. What do you think it was, then? Not a tiger?”
“No; I thought it must be one of the Malay fellows—a listener.”
“Not it. What would be the good of his listening to a language he couldn’t understand?”
“I don’t know,” said Archie. “Some of these Malays are very deep. Hadn’t we better say something to the Major?”
“Rubbish! No! Why, if it had been some one lurking about, the sentry would have seen him.”
“Yes,” said Archie thoughtfully.
Chapter Seven.Joe and the Crocs.About an hour after the last conversation Sergeant Ripsy was giving a few final words of command to the little squad of men whom, to use his own words, he was about to plant, as if they were so many vegetables, at different points about the cantonments, in accordance with the strict military rule kept up, just as though they were in an enemy’s country and it was a time of war.Arms were shouldered, and there was a halt made here, and a halt made there; and this was repeated until a sentry had been stationed at six different points, where the guard could have full command of so many muddy elephant-paths leading away into the black jungle, as well as of two well-beaten tracks which commanded the river.It was at the latter of these that the Sergeant, whose task was ended until the hour came for rounds, paused to say a few words to the sentry, a well-built fellow who looked as upright as the rifle he carried; and before speaking Sergeant Ripsy glanced through the clear, transparent darkness of the night to right and left, up and down what seemed to be a brilliant river of black ink, which rippled as it ran swiftly, and sparkled as if sprinkled with diamonds, from the reflections of the stars; for, strangely enough, the fire-flies, which had been so frequent amongst the overhanging vegetation, had now ceased to scintillate.“Here, you, Corporal Dart, hold up that lantern. A little higher. Now left; now right. That will do.”The non-com, who knew his Sergeant’s motive, had opened the door of the swinging lantern, and flashed it to and fro so that its light fell athwart the stolid countenance of the sentry, who stood up—as rigid as if he had been an effigy cast in bronze.“You have been drinking again, sir.”“Not a drop, Sergeant,” said the man gruffly.“What’s that?” came fiercely.“Not a drop, Sergeant; nor yesterday nayther.”“Smell him, Corporal.”Sniff, sniff, from the Corporal, accompanied by a mild chuckle from the remains of the strong squad.“Silence in the ranks!” roared the Sergeant.—“Well, Corporal Dart? Report.”“Onions, Sergeant; not drink.”“Faugh! Lucky for you, Private Smithers, for there’s going to be no mercy next time you are caught.”“Well, but, Sergeant, this is now, and it aren’t next time.”“Silence! A man who is going on duty must keep his tongue still. Now then, you know the word and what’s your duty. Sentry-go until you are relieved. Strict watch up and down the river, for no boat is to land. If the enemy come, take him prisoner; but you are not to fire without cause.”“Without what, Sergeant?”“Cause, idiot. Don’t you know your own language?”Plosh!“Oh, there’s one of them big scrawlers. Keep your eyes open, and don’t go to sleep.”“All right, Sergeant.”“Don’t be so handy with that tongue of yours, sir. Listen, and don’t talk. Do you know what will happen if you do go to sleep?”Private Smithers thought of the many scoldings—tongue-thrashings he would have called them—which he had had from his wife, and in answer to the Sergeant’s question he drew himself up more stiffly and sighed.“I said, sir, do you know what would happen if you went to sleep?”Private Smithers sighed again, deeply, and thought more.“Do you hear what I said, sir?” roared the Sergeant.“Yes, Sergeant; but you said I wasn’t to speak.”“On duty, sir.”“Am on duty,” growled the private.“Well, I said speak, but I meant chatter,” cried the Sergeant. “You may speak now, and answer my question. I said do you know what would happen if you went to sleep?”“Yes, Sergeant.”“Well, what?”“Snore,” growled the man.“Yah! You are turning into a fool. Don’t you think you would fall down if you went to sleep?”“No, Sergeant. When I go off on duty I always stand stiff as a ramrod.”“Oh! Then you confess, sir, you do go to sleep on sentry?”“Think I did once, Sergeant, but I warn’t sure.”“Well, now then, look here. You are the most troublesome man in your company, and you are not worth your salt, but your commanding officer doesn’t want to put the War Office to the expense of sending you home; and I don’t want to have to put a fatigue party to the trouble of digging a hole for you in this nasty, swampy jungle earth, with more expense caused by the waste of ammunition in firing three volleys over your grave.”“No, Sergeant; that would be ’ard.”“Bah! Of course not,” growled the Sergeant. “I made a mistake. You wouldn’t be there to bury, because as sure as you stand there, and go to sleep, one of them twelve-foot long lizardly crocs as you have seen hundreds of times lying on the top will be watching you, with his eyes just out of the water, and as soon as ever you are fast he will crawl out and have you by the leg and into the river before you know where you are. So if that happens, be careful and leave your rifle ashore.”“Yes, Sergeant, I’ll mind,” said the man coolly.“Silence in the ranks!” cried the Sergeant again, for there was the beginning of a chuckle.—“Now then,” he continued, “that’s all. Don’t forget the word—Aldershot; and—oh, keep a very sharp lookout for boats, for that’s the only way an enemy can approach the campong— Eh, what?” said the Sergeant, in response to a growl.“What shall I do, Sergeant, if one of them big evats comes at me? Am I to fire?”“Fire? No! What for? Want to alarm the camp?”“No, Sergeant. I don’t mind tackling a real enemy, but if it was one of them scaly varmints he would alarm me.”“Never mind; you are not to fire.”“Well, what am I to do, then, sir?”“Fix bayonets and let him have it. Tenderest place is underneath.”“Well, but, Sergeant, how am I to get at him underneath?”“Silence, sir! You, a British soldier who has had the bayonet exercise drilled into him solid for years, ask your officer how you are to use your weapon if it comes to an engagement! You will be wanting to know how to pull your trigger next.—Right about face! March! Left incline. Forward!”Tramp, tramp, tramp, growing fainter and fainter till it died out; and then Private Smithers said, “Hah!” making a great deal of it, and then sighed and smacked his lips as if thirsty, for the water was rippling pleasantly in his ears. Then, grounding arms, he began to feel in his pocket, and dragged out a soda-water-bottle, which felt soft, for it had been carefully stitched up in very thick flannel to guard it from the consequences of casual blows. On his twisting the cork, the neck emitted a peculiar squeak, followed by a gurgling sound, which lasted till the bottle was half-empty, by which time the thirsty private had become fully conscious of its contents.“Yah!” he ejaculated as he snatched the bottle from his lips. “Cold tea! Weak—no milk, of course; but you might have put in a bit of sugar.” Then replacing the cork, he gave the yielding stopper so vicious a twist that the neck emitted a screech which sounded strangely loud in the black silence of the night, and was followed by a heavy splash and the sound of wallowing about a dozen yards away. Then, apparently from just below the bank of the river a little higher up, there was a horrible barking sound such as might have been uttered by a boar-hound with a bad sore throat, and thenwhop, as of a tremendous blow being struck on the surface of the water, followed by the hissingplash, as of a small shower of rain.“Murder!” muttered Private Smithers in a hoarse whisper, as he finished corking the bottle by giving the neck a slap, stuffed it quickly into the pocket of his tunic, and then brought his piece up to the ready and began to back slowly from where he had been stationed.“This is nice!” he growled, as he released his right hand to draw the back across his reeking brow. “Glad the missus ain’t here. He warn’t gammoning me, then. My, how thirsty I do feel! It’s the perspiration, I suppose. Here, how plaguy dark it is! Course I’ve seen these ’ere things before, but it never seemed so bad as this.—Not fire? Won’t I? Why, if I made out one of them things coming on up the bank, it ’ud be enough to make a decent piece go off of itself. Anyhow, it’s fixed bay’nets, my lad; but I wonder whether the tool would go in. Phew! What does that mean? This is a blessed unked place, and it’s getting darker and darker. It aren’t fair to a British soldier to put him on a job like this.”As the man spoke he looked sharply to right and left and out into the river, fixing his bayonet the while.“Do you hear that, you beggars? You come on, and you will get the bullet, and a dig as well. A-mussy me, I do wish it was relieve guard! And I have got to stop here facing this till daybreak almost. It’s enough to make a fellow feel ill. I wonder what the missus would say if she knew. Hates—bless her!—hates me to touch the least taste of rum, but if she’d have knowed what I’d got to go through to-night she wouldn’t have left out the sugar, and she would have put in a double lashing of something strong to keep the heart in her old man, as she calls me—when she’s in a good temper,” he added after a pause, during which he stood breathing hard and trying to make out whence came each splash or lash of a reptile’s tail.“Talk about facing the enemy,” he muttered; “I don’t wish old Tipsy any harm, but I should like him to have this job. It ’ud take some of the starch out of him, I know. Well, what’s to be done? There ain’t so much as a tree to get behind. The Red Book says you ain’t to expose yourself unnecessarily to the enemy; but what’s a fellow to do? if I go padding up and down there, it’s like saying to them, ‘Here I am; come on.’ And they can see one so—them right down in the water and me high up on the bank. Let’s see; what did the missus say? Out of two evils choose the least. Well, I know what it is for desarting your post, and that must be leaster than having one of them beggars getting hold of a fellow by the leg and pulling him under water. So hook it, I say; and I might manage to sneak back before rounds.”Private Smithers stood thinking and watching, hearing many a startling sound of the reptiles with which the river swarmed, evidently fishing after their fashion; and over and over again he took aim and nearly fired at some imaginary monster that appeared to be crawling out of the water to mount the bank. But after straining his eyes till they seemed to ache, he always ended by lowering his piece again and forcing himself to walk up and down his measured beat.“I never knowed a hotter night than this,” he muttered, as he took off his cap and wiped his dripping forehead; “and I do call it hard. I can’t sneak off, because as soon as I was out of the way, as sure as I am alive somebody would be making extra rounds, so as to drop upon a fellow and ketch him when he ain’t there. I can feel it in me to-night as old Tipsy would know it and drop upon me as soon as I had gone; and ’tain’t being a soldier neither,” the poor fellow half-whimpered. “I suppose it’s cowardly; but who can help it, hearing them ugly, slimy things chopping the water and gnashing their teeth at you? I want to know what such things as them was made for. Talk about Malays and pisoned krises! Why, I would rather meet hundreds of them. You could bay’net a few of them, for they are soft, plump sort of chaps; but these ’ere things is as hard as lobsters or crabs, and would turn the point of a regulation bay’net as if it was made of a bit of iron hoop. I sha’n’t never forget that, Mr Sergeant Tipsy,” he continued, addressing the jungle behind him as he looked in the direction of the cantonments. “The underneath’s the tenderest part, is it? Just you come and try it, old ’un. Savage old tyrant—that’s what you are. Only just wish I was Sergeant Smithers and you was Private Ripsy. I’d make you Private Tipsy with sheer fright, that I would, and so I tell you. No, I wouldn’t,” he grumbled, as he cooled down a little. “I wouldn’t be such a brute, for the sake of your poor missus. Ugh!” he growled, as he seemed to turn savage; and he went through the business of shouldering arms, with a good deal of unnecessary energy, slapping his piece loudly, and then stamping his feet as he marched up and down the marked-out portion of the bank, a little inward from the landing-place.“I don’t care,” he muttered recklessly. “I can’t see you, but I can hear you, you beauties! Come on if you like. My monkey’s up now. Fire! I just will! It will only be once, though, and then s’elp me, I’ll let whichever of you it is have it with a straight-down dig right between the shoulders—one as will pin you into the soft earth. I’ll do for one of you at any rate, and then let them come and relieve guard. Relieve guard, indeed, when there won’t be no guard to relieve! And old Tipsy won’t have any more trouble with poor old Joe Smithers. Nay, my lad, put it down decent, as perhaps it’s for the last time. Private Joseph Smithers, 3874, and good-bye, mates and comrades, and bless the lot of you! Poor old missus! She’ll miss me, though, when she wants the water fetched, but it will only be larky Peter Pegg doing it twice as often; and she will be independent-like, for she always washes his shirt for him every week—a cheeky beggar! But somehow I always liked Peter, in spite of his larks as Mr Maine put him up to—chaffing and teasing a fellow. But he never meant no harm. You see, it seemed to make us good mates running in company like, for when the Sergeant wasn’t dropping on to him he was letting me have it, to keep his tongue sharp. Yes, Peter Pegg will miss me, for they won’t find Joe Smithers when they come; and if I desart my post, how can I help it if I am pulled under? But I won’t desart it till I am. There,” he cried, stopping suddenly in his angry soliloquy; and pulling up short, he stood ready, looking inward, forgetting the splashings of the reptiles, which were repeated from time to time. “What did I say? ’Tarn’t rounds yet, and I should have been ketched, for here’s some one coming. Out of regular time, too. One of the officers, for that spot of light’s a cigar. Well, glad to see him. Company’s good, even if you’re going to be pulled under by a croc. Wonder who it is.”
About an hour after the last conversation Sergeant Ripsy was giving a few final words of command to the little squad of men whom, to use his own words, he was about to plant, as if they were so many vegetables, at different points about the cantonments, in accordance with the strict military rule kept up, just as though they were in an enemy’s country and it was a time of war.
Arms were shouldered, and there was a halt made here, and a halt made there; and this was repeated until a sentry had been stationed at six different points, where the guard could have full command of so many muddy elephant-paths leading away into the black jungle, as well as of two well-beaten tracks which commanded the river.
It was at the latter of these that the Sergeant, whose task was ended until the hour came for rounds, paused to say a few words to the sentry, a well-built fellow who looked as upright as the rifle he carried; and before speaking Sergeant Ripsy glanced through the clear, transparent darkness of the night to right and left, up and down what seemed to be a brilliant river of black ink, which rippled as it ran swiftly, and sparkled as if sprinkled with diamonds, from the reflections of the stars; for, strangely enough, the fire-flies, which had been so frequent amongst the overhanging vegetation, had now ceased to scintillate.
“Here, you, Corporal Dart, hold up that lantern. A little higher. Now left; now right. That will do.”
The non-com, who knew his Sergeant’s motive, had opened the door of the swinging lantern, and flashed it to and fro so that its light fell athwart the stolid countenance of the sentry, who stood up—as rigid as if he had been an effigy cast in bronze.
“You have been drinking again, sir.”
“Not a drop, Sergeant,” said the man gruffly.
“What’s that?” came fiercely.
“Not a drop, Sergeant; nor yesterday nayther.”
“Smell him, Corporal.”
Sniff, sniff, from the Corporal, accompanied by a mild chuckle from the remains of the strong squad.
“Silence in the ranks!” roared the Sergeant.—“Well, Corporal Dart? Report.”
“Onions, Sergeant; not drink.”
“Faugh! Lucky for you, Private Smithers, for there’s going to be no mercy next time you are caught.”
“Well, but, Sergeant, this is now, and it aren’t next time.”
“Silence! A man who is going on duty must keep his tongue still. Now then, you know the word and what’s your duty. Sentry-go until you are relieved. Strict watch up and down the river, for no boat is to land. If the enemy come, take him prisoner; but you are not to fire without cause.”
“Without what, Sergeant?”
“Cause, idiot. Don’t you know your own language?”
Plosh!
“Oh, there’s one of them big scrawlers. Keep your eyes open, and don’t go to sleep.”
“All right, Sergeant.”
“Don’t be so handy with that tongue of yours, sir. Listen, and don’t talk. Do you know what will happen if you do go to sleep?”
Private Smithers thought of the many scoldings—tongue-thrashings he would have called them—which he had had from his wife, and in answer to the Sergeant’s question he drew himself up more stiffly and sighed.
“I said, sir, do you know what would happen if you went to sleep?”
Private Smithers sighed again, deeply, and thought more.
“Do you hear what I said, sir?” roared the Sergeant.
“Yes, Sergeant; but you said I wasn’t to speak.”
“On duty, sir.”
“Am on duty,” growled the private.
“Well, I said speak, but I meant chatter,” cried the Sergeant. “You may speak now, and answer my question. I said do you know what would happen if you went to sleep?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“Well, what?”
“Snore,” growled the man.
“Yah! You are turning into a fool. Don’t you think you would fall down if you went to sleep?”
“No, Sergeant. When I go off on duty I always stand stiff as a ramrod.”
“Oh! Then you confess, sir, you do go to sleep on sentry?”
“Think I did once, Sergeant, but I warn’t sure.”
“Well, now then, look here. You are the most troublesome man in your company, and you are not worth your salt, but your commanding officer doesn’t want to put the War Office to the expense of sending you home; and I don’t want to have to put a fatigue party to the trouble of digging a hole for you in this nasty, swampy jungle earth, with more expense caused by the waste of ammunition in firing three volleys over your grave.”
“No, Sergeant; that would be ’ard.”
“Bah! Of course not,” growled the Sergeant. “I made a mistake. You wouldn’t be there to bury, because as sure as you stand there, and go to sleep, one of them twelve-foot long lizardly crocs as you have seen hundreds of times lying on the top will be watching you, with his eyes just out of the water, and as soon as ever you are fast he will crawl out and have you by the leg and into the river before you know where you are. So if that happens, be careful and leave your rifle ashore.”
“Yes, Sergeant, I’ll mind,” said the man coolly.
“Silence in the ranks!” cried the Sergeant again, for there was the beginning of a chuckle.—“Now then,” he continued, “that’s all. Don’t forget the word—Aldershot; and—oh, keep a very sharp lookout for boats, for that’s the only way an enemy can approach the campong— Eh, what?” said the Sergeant, in response to a growl.
“What shall I do, Sergeant, if one of them big evats comes at me? Am I to fire?”
“Fire? No! What for? Want to alarm the camp?”
“No, Sergeant. I don’t mind tackling a real enemy, but if it was one of them scaly varmints he would alarm me.”
“Never mind; you are not to fire.”
“Well, what am I to do, then, sir?”
“Fix bayonets and let him have it. Tenderest place is underneath.”
“Well, but, Sergeant, how am I to get at him underneath?”
“Silence, sir! You, a British soldier who has had the bayonet exercise drilled into him solid for years, ask your officer how you are to use your weapon if it comes to an engagement! You will be wanting to know how to pull your trigger next.—Right about face! March! Left incline. Forward!”
Tramp, tramp, tramp, growing fainter and fainter till it died out; and then Private Smithers said, “Hah!” making a great deal of it, and then sighed and smacked his lips as if thirsty, for the water was rippling pleasantly in his ears. Then, grounding arms, he began to feel in his pocket, and dragged out a soda-water-bottle, which felt soft, for it had been carefully stitched up in very thick flannel to guard it from the consequences of casual blows. On his twisting the cork, the neck emitted a peculiar squeak, followed by a gurgling sound, which lasted till the bottle was half-empty, by which time the thirsty private had become fully conscious of its contents.
“Yah!” he ejaculated as he snatched the bottle from his lips. “Cold tea! Weak—no milk, of course; but you might have put in a bit of sugar.” Then replacing the cork, he gave the yielding stopper so vicious a twist that the neck emitted a screech which sounded strangely loud in the black silence of the night, and was followed by a heavy splash and the sound of wallowing about a dozen yards away. Then, apparently from just below the bank of the river a little higher up, there was a horrible barking sound such as might have been uttered by a boar-hound with a bad sore throat, and thenwhop, as of a tremendous blow being struck on the surface of the water, followed by the hissingplash, as of a small shower of rain.
“Murder!” muttered Private Smithers in a hoarse whisper, as he finished corking the bottle by giving the neck a slap, stuffed it quickly into the pocket of his tunic, and then brought his piece up to the ready and began to back slowly from where he had been stationed.
“This is nice!” he growled, as he released his right hand to draw the back across his reeking brow. “Glad the missus ain’t here. He warn’t gammoning me, then. My, how thirsty I do feel! It’s the perspiration, I suppose. Here, how plaguy dark it is! Course I’ve seen these ’ere things before, but it never seemed so bad as this.—Not fire? Won’t I? Why, if I made out one of them things coming on up the bank, it ’ud be enough to make a decent piece go off of itself. Anyhow, it’s fixed bay’nets, my lad; but I wonder whether the tool would go in. Phew! What does that mean? This is a blessed unked place, and it’s getting darker and darker. It aren’t fair to a British soldier to put him on a job like this.”
As the man spoke he looked sharply to right and left and out into the river, fixing his bayonet the while.
“Do you hear that, you beggars? You come on, and you will get the bullet, and a dig as well. A-mussy me, I do wish it was relieve guard! And I have got to stop here facing this till daybreak almost. It’s enough to make a fellow feel ill. I wonder what the missus would say if she knew. Hates—bless her!—hates me to touch the least taste of rum, but if she’d have knowed what I’d got to go through to-night she wouldn’t have left out the sugar, and she would have put in a double lashing of something strong to keep the heart in her old man, as she calls me—when she’s in a good temper,” he added after a pause, during which he stood breathing hard and trying to make out whence came each splash or lash of a reptile’s tail.
“Talk about facing the enemy,” he muttered; “I don’t wish old Tipsy any harm, but I should like him to have this job. It ’ud take some of the starch out of him, I know. Well, what’s to be done? There ain’t so much as a tree to get behind. The Red Book says you ain’t to expose yourself unnecessarily to the enemy; but what’s a fellow to do? if I go padding up and down there, it’s like saying to them, ‘Here I am; come on.’ And they can see one so—them right down in the water and me high up on the bank. Let’s see; what did the missus say? Out of two evils choose the least. Well, I know what it is for desarting your post, and that must be leaster than having one of them beggars getting hold of a fellow by the leg and pulling him under water. So hook it, I say; and I might manage to sneak back before rounds.”
Private Smithers stood thinking and watching, hearing many a startling sound of the reptiles with which the river swarmed, evidently fishing after their fashion; and over and over again he took aim and nearly fired at some imaginary monster that appeared to be crawling out of the water to mount the bank. But after straining his eyes till they seemed to ache, he always ended by lowering his piece again and forcing himself to walk up and down his measured beat.
“I never knowed a hotter night than this,” he muttered, as he took off his cap and wiped his dripping forehead; “and I do call it hard. I can’t sneak off, because as soon as I was out of the way, as sure as I am alive somebody would be making extra rounds, so as to drop upon a fellow and ketch him when he ain’t there. I can feel it in me to-night as old Tipsy would know it and drop upon me as soon as I had gone; and ’tain’t being a soldier neither,” the poor fellow half-whimpered. “I suppose it’s cowardly; but who can help it, hearing them ugly, slimy things chopping the water and gnashing their teeth at you? I want to know what such things as them was made for. Talk about Malays and pisoned krises! Why, I would rather meet hundreds of them. You could bay’net a few of them, for they are soft, plump sort of chaps; but these ’ere things is as hard as lobsters or crabs, and would turn the point of a regulation bay’net as if it was made of a bit of iron hoop. I sha’n’t never forget that, Mr Sergeant Tipsy,” he continued, addressing the jungle behind him as he looked in the direction of the cantonments. “The underneath’s the tenderest part, is it? Just you come and try it, old ’un. Savage old tyrant—that’s what you are. Only just wish I was Sergeant Smithers and you was Private Ripsy. I’d make you Private Tipsy with sheer fright, that I would, and so I tell you. No, I wouldn’t,” he grumbled, as he cooled down a little. “I wouldn’t be such a brute, for the sake of your poor missus. Ugh!” he growled, as he seemed to turn savage; and he went through the business of shouldering arms, with a good deal of unnecessary energy, slapping his piece loudly, and then stamping his feet as he marched up and down the marked-out portion of the bank, a little inward from the landing-place.
“I don’t care,” he muttered recklessly. “I can’t see you, but I can hear you, you beauties! Come on if you like. My monkey’s up now. Fire! I just will! It will only be once, though, and then s’elp me, I’ll let whichever of you it is have it with a straight-down dig right between the shoulders—one as will pin you into the soft earth. I’ll do for one of you at any rate, and then let them come and relieve guard. Relieve guard, indeed, when there won’t be no guard to relieve! And old Tipsy won’t have any more trouble with poor old Joe Smithers. Nay, my lad, put it down decent, as perhaps it’s for the last time. Private Joseph Smithers, 3874, and good-bye, mates and comrades, and bless the lot of you! Poor old missus! She’ll miss me, though, when she wants the water fetched, but it will only be larky Peter Pegg doing it twice as often; and she will be independent-like, for she always washes his shirt for him every week—a cheeky beggar! But somehow I always liked Peter, in spite of his larks as Mr Maine put him up to—chaffing and teasing a fellow. But he never meant no harm. You see, it seemed to make us good mates running in company like, for when the Sergeant wasn’t dropping on to him he was letting me have it, to keep his tongue sharp. Yes, Peter Pegg will miss me, for they won’t find Joe Smithers when they come; and if I desart my post, how can I help it if I am pulled under? But I won’t desart it till I am. There,” he cried, stopping suddenly in his angry soliloquy; and pulling up short, he stood ready, looking inward, forgetting the splashings of the reptiles, which were repeated from time to time. “What did I say? ’Tarn’t rounds yet, and I should have been ketched, for here’s some one coming. Out of regular time, too. One of the officers, for that spot of light’s a cigar. Well, glad to see him. Company’s good, even if you’re going to be pulled under by a croc. Wonder who it is.”
Chapter Eight.A Strange Prisoner.Private Smithers had not long to wait, for as the glow of the burning cigar came nearer he challenged, the customary interchange took place, and then Archie Maine took up the conversation with—“Who’s that? You, Smithers?”“Yes, sir.”“I say, you have got a lonely watch here to-night. Heard any crocodiles?”“Heerd any crocodiles, sir? Just you listen!”“My!” exclaimed Archie.—“I say, Down, why, it can’t be those reptiles, is it? What a row!”“There’s no mistake about it,” said the Captain. “Why, they must be having a party.” For the wallowing and splashing grew louder than ever.“Here, I know what it is,” cried Archie merrily. “They can smell Private Smithers here. He’s such a big, well-fed chap that they have gathered together for a feast.”“Yes, sir; that’s it,” said the man.“But they haven’t been going on like this before, have they?”“Just as bad, sir, all the time; and every now and then one of them barks at me just like a wolf.”“Just like a wolf?” said the Captain. “What do you know about wolves? You never kept a wolf.”“No, sir. They are not the sort of things I should like to make a pet dog on; but I’ve heerd them lots of times in Canady heigh-ho where they chase the buffalo.”“Ah, to be sure. You have been in the regiment longer than I have. Well, these brutes are going it! Why, Maine, we ought to have brought our guns and had some shooting.”“Too dark to see them.”“Why, what a noise! And they have been going on like this all the time you have been on duty?”“Yes, sir; it’s been precious cheerful.”“But what have you done?”“Oh, just kep’ on the move, sir, so as to baffle them a bit when they seemed disposed to come ashore and join one.”“But surely you haven’t seen any of them come ashore?”“Well, sir, to be downright honest, it’s been too dark to see ’em; but I’ve seemed to feel one of ’em crawling ashore now and then; and then I always went right to the end of the beat, so as to get as far off as I could.”“I say, Down, this is horrible!” said Archie.“Thank you, sir,” said the man. “It ain’t been nice.”“Nice—no!” said the Captain. “It seems like planting a sentry to act as a bait to draw the brutes ashore.”“I don’t think, however, that they would attack a man who was on the alert,” said Archie.“I shouldn’t like to risk it,” said the Captain, “however much I were on the alert.”“But the Doctor says from long experience he never knew them attack any one moving about. Of course he says he wouldn’t answer for the life of a man who was lying asleep close to the river’s edge, and we know that they will pull in a woman bathing, or who has waded in to draw water.”“Yes,” said the Captain, “I can answer for that. Why, they will seize an ox that has walked in to drink. But this is not right. The Major would be angry if he knew of a single sentry being stationed so close to the water as this on a dark night.—Look here, Smithers; move in yonder a bit—up to that hut we just passed. You can well command the landing-place from there, I think?”“Yes, sir; thank you, sir. No boat could land there without my hearing and seeing it.”“Well, then, move up there; and when Sergeant Ripsy comes to relieve guard, tell him I changed your position, and that a sentry must not be posted here again on a dark night.”“Thank you, sir,” said the private. “It has been awful, sir.”“Awful—yes, my lad. Well, we are three of us now, but I don’t feel at all eager to stay. However, you will be quite safe there—eh, Maine?”“Oh yes. The heavy, lumbering brutes are not likely to travel up there.—Seen or heard anything else, Smithers?”“No, sir. I shouldn’t think anybody else would want to come.”The officers stood talking to the man a few minutes, and then turned off to return to their quarters, while Private Smithers hugged himself with satisfaction as he picked up the still burning half-cigar the officer had thrown away, carefully put it out, and deposited it in his cartridge-box.“You will do to cut up fine for finishing in a pipe to-morrow, my jockey,” he said.He stood listening till the faint sounds of his visitors’ voices had completely died away, and then he settled himself by the hut.“This is jolly,” he muttered. “One’s safe enough here. That’s a capital lookout, for one quite looks down on the water. Yes; no boat could come up here without my hearing it, and I should see any one paddling along. Well, I will say this: our officers are gentlemen, and never want you to do anything that they wouldn’t do theirselves. Glad the Captain was there too, for I don’t suppose Mr Archie Maine would have ventured to change my place. But I do know what he would have done. I’d bet anybody sixpence, if there was anybody here to bet with and I’d got one, that he’d have stopped to keep me company and— I’m blessed! What’s that?”The man was standing beneath the spreading eaves of the palm-tree and bamboo hut, quite sheltered by the darkness, and he turned his head on one side to listen, for quite plainly from somewhere up the river, and apparently right under the bank on the other side, he heard the sound of paddles, as if a big boat were approaching.“Why, I shouldn’t wonder,” he thought to himself, “if that boat has been hanging about there waiting till there was no one on the shore. Blessed if I don’t think they heard us talking and fancy our officers have took the sentry away. Well, I shall jolly soon know. How rum! It must be a big boat; and it’s scared the crocs away, for I can’t hear them a bit now. All right; I’m ready for you, whoever you are. Not fire, eh? But I’ll tell ’em I will if they don’t give up. I wonder who it is. Only fishermen perhaps; but it will give one something to do.”He drew himself a little closer beneath the projecting attap roof, which extended three or four feet over the sides of the hut, and then felt startled, for suddenly there fell upon his ears, evidently coming from somewhere inland, a rustling sound of footsteps, accompanied by the hard breathing of some one suffering from over-exertion.“Boat coming ashore! Some one coming down to the landing-place! What does this ’ere mean?” muttered the sentry. “Well, it’s only one;” and he peered carefully from his shelter, trying to make out the approaching figure.But it was too dark, and he waited a full minute before stepping out boldly; and his rifle gave a loudclick, click, as he cried:“Halt! Who goes there?”His answer was a sharp half-cry, half-gasp of astonishment, and the loud breathing became quite a pant, like that of an excited dog.“Here—yes—it—is—all right,” came in rather a high-pitched voice, the accents being those of one not fully accustomed to the English language.“Well, what’s the word?” cried Smithers, who, with his piece presented, found himself close up now to a slight man of middle height, wearing a sun-hat, dressed in knickerbockers, and apparently having a fishing-creel slung from one shoulder, something like a tin case from the other.“The—the—word?” he answered.“Yes. What’s the word?”“Oh yes; it is all right,” faltered the new-comer, with a half-laugh. “I was just going down to my boat. What a dark night!”“Oh yes, it’s dark enough,” growled Smithers; “but what’s the word?”“The word? Oh yes. Good-night—good-night.”“Halt, I tell you!” cried the sentry in a deep tone. “That’s not the password.”“Oh no; but that does not matter, my good friend. I tell you I am going down to the pier to my boat, which is waiting for me.”“Rum time to be going to meet a boat,” growled Smithers; “and there’s no boat waiting there. Can’t you hear? They are paddling away down-stream as hard as eater they can.”The stranger uttered a sharp ejaculation of impatience.“Oh, this is foolish—absurd!” he exclaimed; and his hands began to busy themselves about his waist.Private Smithers might have been the worst man in his company, but somehow drill had made him a keen soldier and a good sentry.“Hands up,” he cried sharply, “or I fire!”“Oh!” cried his visitor sharply, “don’t be so foolish. Did you think I was going to do something?”“Yes, with a revolver, whoever you are. I nearly drew trigger, and you not two yards away.”“Oh!” said the stranger, with a gasp. “It is foolish nonsense, and you have frightened away my rowing-men. Don’t you know me?”“No.”“I am a stranger. I come out in the forest to-night to collect the beautiful moths—butterflies, you call them. I have some in this case.”“It’s all dark,” said Smithers sourly. “Gammon! No one can see to catch butterflies at night.”“Ha-ha! You are a wise man. You English are so sharp. Look; I will show you.”“You had better mind what you are doing, sir, or my rifle may go off.”“What do you think of me, my friend? See here. There are many great, beautiful butterfly moths here in this grand forest.”“Yes; and if you come when the sun shines, with a net, you can catch lots.”“Yes; and I come at night. I put sugar on the trees. The foolish moths fly round to eat; and then I open this little lanterrne, which is not burning now, and then I see to catch the beautiful moths.” As Smithers’s visitor spoke, he tapped the dimly seen tin case slung under his right arm. “If I had time I should show you, sir. But my boat is waiting. I go down to the pier place and hold up my hand. My men see me, and come and take me off.”“And all in the dark, mister,” said the sentry in his gruffest tones. “But you are not going down to the pier place to hold up your hand, and your boatmen are not coming to take you off.”“I do not see what you mean, sir. I say they do come to take me off.”“Oh, do you?” growled Smithers. “And I say they don’t come to take you off, because my orders are to let no boat come in; and what’s more, you are my prisoner.”“Your prisonare, sir!” cried the visitor. “You make joke.”“Oh no, that’s no joke, mister,” said Smithers. “That’s only obeying orders.”“But, sir, I insist. I desire to go much.”“Can’t help it, sir.”“Then what go you to do? You dare to say you shoot at me?”“No, sir; not unless you try to run away. My orders would be to stop you, and I should fire at your legs; and it might hurt you very much. But whether it did or whether it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t run any more to-night.”“Sir,” said the visitor pompously, “you talk like madness. If you do not let me go down to my boat I shall report you to your officer.”“Yes, sir; that’s what I mean you to do.”“What do you mean?”“He will be here by-and-by to relieve guard, and then you can say what you like, and he will take you to our Major.”“What! Faith of a gentleman, this man is too much mad! But there, I forget myself. You like a glass of rack-ponch?”“Yes, sir, I like it.”“Then I have none here; but I have in my pocket a Chinese dollar. It is worth shillings. You get many glasses of rack-ponch. You take it?” and as he spoke he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out in the darkness a broad piece.“It won’t do,” said Smithers. “You will be only getting me into more trouble, mister.”“You will not take it?”“Not me.”“Then I shall keep it and spend it myself.” With a good deal of gesticulation the speaker thrust the coin back into his pocket, and gave it a heavy slap. “Now, you say to me that my boat is gone, and you say that my men could not see me if I hold up my hand?”“That’s right, sir.”“Very well. You are very clever, but I know also two or three things. I shall go down to the pier, and call out to my men, ‘Ahoy!’ and then go into the water and swim till they pick me up and put me in a dry place in the boat. Now, what do you say to that?”“Only this, mister. What do you think your men, if they come, will pick up?”“Me—myself, sir, with my butterfly moths and my little lanterrne.”“Ho!” said Smithers dryly. “And what about the crocs?”“I do not understand.”“I see you don’t,” said the sentry. “What about the great crocodiles that have been waiting about there all night?”“The crocodile!” said the visitor; and it was not light enough to see, but the stranger’s jaw dropped, and he remained silent till Smithers spoke again.“Understand that, mister?”“Yes; you say that to frighten me. You talk one minute about using yourfusilto shoot me, and I am not afraid. Then you say you throw me to the crocodile, and still I am not afraid.”“Then look ye here,” said Smithers, “you just give me that little pistol thing you were going to pull out.”“What! Sir, I re-fuse.”Smithers stuck the mouth of his rifle against the stranger’s breast-bone, and pressed upon it heavily.“Sit down,” he said.“I will not sit down! I re-fuse.”“Mind,” said Smithers. “I don’t want this rifle to go off.”“You dare—you dare not shoot,” cried the visitor; but as he spoke he began to subside slowly, as if still mentally resisting, till the sentry raised his foot quickly, gave a sharp thrust, and his prisoner went down suddenly upon his back, with the sentry’s right foot upon his chest.“Now then, no nonsense. Hand up that pistol.”The prisoner’s hand went rapidly to his waist as if with the intent of snatching out and making use of his revolver, but quick as a flash the sentry’s rifle was pressed down harder now, close up to the man’s throat.“That’s right,” said Smithers. “Now drop it.”There was a few moments’ hesitation, and then the revolver fell softly upon the earth just beyond the shelter of the attap mat.The next moment Smithers had raised his foot and kicked the pistol aside, but with an unexpected result, for one chamber exploded with a loud bang.“I’ve done it now,” said Smithers to himself. “As for you, you lie still;” and he held his piece pointing still towards his prisoner while he cleverly retrieved the revolver. “Look here,” he said, “I had orders not to fire, only if it was wanted particular. Well, I haven’t fired, but they will hear that shot and be coming down before you know where you are.”“What!” cried the prisoner, starting up in a sitting position.“Look ye here,” cried Smithers; “do you want me to have an accident?”“No, no; I want you to let me give you many dollars. You must let me go before your officers come.”“Nothing of the kind, sir. You must talk to them when they come. You are my prisoner, so just lie still.”As the sentry was speaking the notes of a bugle were ringing out upon the silent night. Hurrying feet could be heard, and it was evident that the night alarm had set the occupants of the cantonments buzzing out like the bees of a hive.“They don’t know which sentry it was,” thought Smithers, and he was raising his piece to fire and bring the relief to his side, when it struck him that he should be leaving himself defenceless if his prisoner should make a dash to escape.“Second thoughts is best, says the missus,” he muttered, and taking the revolver from his pocket, he fired it in the air, and after a short interval fired again.“That’s done it,” he said to himself.—“Hullo! what’s the matter with you?” For his prisoner was rocking himself to and fro as if in pain, and grinding his teeth.Directly after there was the light of a lantern showing through the trees, shouts were heard and answered by the sentry, and a strong party of the men, led by Captain Down and Archie, surrounded them.“What’s wrong, Smithers?” cried the Captain eagerly.“Took a prisoner, sir.”“Corporal, a light here,” cried Archie; and the man doubled up to throw the rays of the lantern upon the prisoner’s face as he now rose to his feet.“The Count!” cried Archie.“Yes, sir. Your stupid sentry, he make a John Bull blunder—a mistake.”“A mistake?” said the Captain. “Why, how come you here?”“Only I have my lanterrne and collecting-box, and come down the river to catch specimens of the beautiful moth for the naturalists at home in France. I land from my boat, and the boat come to take me away; but your sentry man re-fuse to let me go.”“Collecting—lantern!” said the Captain.“Yes, sir. Look. I fear my beautiful specimens are spoiled in the pannier here. He use me very bad.”“You mean that you were collecting moths?” said Archie dubiously, as he recalled the rustling sounds he had heard below the veranda that night.“Yes, sir,” said Smithers gruffly. “I suppose it’s right, what he says, about collecting. Here’s one of his tools;” and he handed the beautifully finished little revolver to the young officer.“Humph!” grunted the Captain.—“Well, sir, I’m sorry if our sentry behaved roughly to you, but he was only obeying orders, and you ought to know that you had no business here.”“All a mistake, Captain. You will please make signals for my boat to come.”“All in good time, sir,” said the Captain, in response to a nudge given by his subaltern; “but you must come up first and make your explanation to the Major.”“What! It is not necessary, sir.”“You think so, sir?” said Captain Down. “I and my brother officer think it is.”Directly after the relief party and their prisoner were on their way to headquarters.
Private Smithers had not long to wait, for as the glow of the burning cigar came nearer he challenged, the customary interchange took place, and then Archie Maine took up the conversation with—
“Who’s that? You, Smithers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I say, you have got a lonely watch here to-night. Heard any crocodiles?”
“Heerd any crocodiles, sir? Just you listen!”
“My!” exclaimed Archie.—“I say, Down, why, it can’t be those reptiles, is it? What a row!”
“There’s no mistake about it,” said the Captain. “Why, they must be having a party.” For the wallowing and splashing grew louder than ever.
“Here, I know what it is,” cried Archie merrily. “They can smell Private Smithers here. He’s such a big, well-fed chap that they have gathered together for a feast.”
“Yes, sir; that’s it,” said the man.
“But they haven’t been going on like this before, have they?”
“Just as bad, sir, all the time; and every now and then one of them barks at me just like a wolf.”
“Just like a wolf?” said the Captain. “What do you know about wolves? You never kept a wolf.”
“No, sir. They are not the sort of things I should like to make a pet dog on; but I’ve heerd them lots of times in Canady heigh-ho where they chase the buffalo.”
“Ah, to be sure. You have been in the regiment longer than I have. Well, these brutes are going it! Why, Maine, we ought to have brought our guns and had some shooting.”
“Too dark to see them.”
“Why, what a noise! And they have been going on like this all the time you have been on duty?”
“Yes, sir; it’s been precious cheerful.”
“But what have you done?”
“Oh, just kep’ on the move, sir, so as to baffle them a bit when they seemed disposed to come ashore and join one.”
“But surely you haven’t seen any of them come ashore?”
“Well, sir, to be downright honest, it’s been too dark to see ’em; but I’ve seemed to feel one of ’em crawling ashore now and then; and then I always went right to the end of the beat, so as to get as far off as I could.”
“I say, Down, this is horrible!” said Archie.
“Thank you, sir,” said the man. “It ain’t been nice.”
“Nice—no!” said the Captain. “It seems like planting a sentry to act as a bait to draw the brutes ashore.”
“I don’t think, however, that they would attack a man who was on the alert,” said Archie.
“I shouldn’t like to risk it,” said the Captain, “however much I were on the alert.”
“But the Doctor says from long experience he never knew them attack any one moving about. Of course he says he wouldn’t answer for the life of a man who was lying asleep close to the river’s edge, and we know that they will pull in a woman bathing, or who has waded in to draw water.”
“Yes,” said the Captain, “I can answer for that. Why, they will seize an ox that has walked in to drink. But this is not right. The Major would be angry if he knew of a single sentry being stationed so close to the water as this on a dark night.—Look here, Smithers; move in yonder a bit—up to that hut we just passed. You can well command the landing-place from there, I think?”
“Yes, sir; thank you, sir. No boat could land there without my hearing and seeing it.”
“Well, then, move up there; and when Sergeant Ripsy comes to relieve guard, tell him I changed your position, and that a sentry must not be posted here again on a dark night.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the private. “It has been awful, sir.”
“Awful—yes, my lad. Well, we are three of us now, but I don’t feel at all eager to stay. However, you will be quite safe there—eh, Maine?”
“Oh yes. The heavy, lumbering brutes are not likely to travel up there.—Seen or heard anything else, Smithers?”
“No, sir. I shouldn’t think anybody else would want to come.”
The officers stood talking to the man a few minutes, and then turned off to return to their quarters, while Private Smithers hugged himself with satisfaction as he picked up the still burning half-cigar the officer had thrown away, carefully put it out, and deposited it in his cartridge-box.
“You will do to cut up fine for finishing in a pipe to-morrow, my jockey,” he said.
He stood listening till the faint sounds of his visitors’ voices had completely died away, and then he settled himself by the hut.
“This is jolly,” he muttered. “One’s safe enough here. That’s a capital lookout, for one quite looks down on the water. Yes; no boat could come up here without my hearing it, and I should see any one paddling along. Well, I will say this: our officers are gentlemen, and never want you to do anything that they wouldn’t do theirselves. Glad the Captain was there too, for I don’t suppose Mr Archie Maine would have ventured to change my place. But I do know what he would have done. I’d bet anybody sixpence, if there was anybody here to bet with and I’d got one, that he’d have stopped to keep me company and— I’m blessed! What’s that?”
The man was standing beneath the spreading eaves of the palm-tree and bamboo hut, quite sheltered by the darkness, and he turned his head on one side to listen, for quite plainly from somewhere up the river, and apparently right under the bank on the other side, he heard the sound of paddles, as if a big boat were approaching.
“Why, I shouldn’t wonder,” he thought to himself, “if that boat has been hanging about there waiting till there was no one on the shore. Blessed if I don’t think they heard us talking and fancy our officers have took the sentry away. Well, I shall jolly soon know. How rum! It must be a big boat; and it’s scared the crocs away, for I can’t hear them a bit now. All right; I’m ready for you, whoever you are. Not fire, eh? But I’ll tell ’em I will if they don’t give up. I wonder who it is. Only fishermen perhaps; but it will give one something to do.”
He drew himself a little closer beneath the projecting attap roof, which extended three or four feet over the sides of the hut, and then felt startled, for suddenly there fell upon his ears, evidently coming from somewhere inland, a rustling sound of footsteps, accompanied by the hard breathing of some one suffering from over-exertion.
“Boat coming ashore! Some one coming down to the landing-place! What does this ’ere mean?” muttered the sentry. “Well, it’s only one;” and he peered carefully from his shelter, trying to make out the approaching figure.
But it was too dark, and he waited a full minute before stepping out boldly; and his rifle gave a loudclick, click, as he cried:
“Halt! Who goes there?”
His answer was a sharp half-cry, half-gasp of astonishment, and the loud breathing became quite a pant, like that of an excited dog.
“Here—yes—it—is—all right,” came in rather a high-pitched voice, the accents being those of one not fully accustomed to the English language.
“Well, what’s the word?” cried Smithers, who, with his piece presented, found himself close up now to a slight man of middle height, wearing a sun-hat, dressed in knickerbockers, and apparently having a fishing-creel slung from one shoulder, something like a tin case from the other.
“The—the—word?” he answered.
“Yes. What’s the word?”
“Oh yes; it is all right,” faltered the new-comer, with a half-laugh. “I was just going down to my boat. What a dark night!”
“Oh yes, it’s dark enough,” growled Smithers; “but what’s the word?”
“The word? Oh yes. Good-night—good-night.”
“Halt, I tell you!” cried the sentry in a deep tone. “That’s not the password.”
“Oh no; but that does not matter, my good friend. I tell you I am going down to the pier to my boat, which is waiting for me.”
“Rum time to be going to meet a boat,” growled Smithers; “and there’s no boat waiting there. Can’t you hear? They are paddling away down-stream as hard as eater they can.”
The stranger uttered a sharp ejaculation of impatience.
“Oh, this is foolish—absurd!” he exclaimed; and his hands began to busy themselves about his waist.
Private Smithers might have been the worst man in his company, but somehow drill had made him a keen soldier and a good sentry.
“Hands up,” he cried sharply, “or I fire!”
“Oh!” cried his visitor sharply, “don’t be so foolish. Did you think I was going to do something?”
“Yes, with a revolver, whoever you are. I nearly drew trigger, and you not two yards away.”
“Oh!” said the stranger, with a gasp. “It is foolish nonsense, and you have frightened away my rowing-men. Don’t you know me?”
“No.”
“I am a stranger. I come out in the forest to-night to collect the beautiful moths—butterflies, you call them. I have some in this case.”
“It’s all dark,” said Smithers sourly. “Gammon! No one can see to catch butterflies at night.”
“Ha-ha! You are a wise man. You English are so sharp. Look; I will show you.”
“You had better mind what you are doing, sir, or my rifle may go off.”
“What do you think of me, my friend? See here. There are many great, beautiful butterfly moths here in this grand forest.”
“Yes; and if you come when the sun shines, with a net, you can catch lots.”
“Yes; and I come at night. I put sugar on the trees. The foolish moths fly round to eat; and then I open this little lanterrne, which is not burning now, and then I see to catch the beautiful moths.” As Smithers’s visitor spoke, he tapped the dimly seen tin case slung under his right arm. “If I had time I should show you, sir. But my boat is waiting. I go down to the pier place and hold up my hand. My men see me, and come and take me off.”
“And all in the dark, mister,” said the sentry in his gruffest tones. “But you are not going down to the pier place to hold up your hand, and your boatmen are not coming to take you off.”
“I do not see what you mean, sir. I say they do come to take me off.”
“Oh, do you?” growled Smithers. “And I say they don’t come to take you off, because my orders are to let no boat come in; and what’s more, you are my prisoner.”
“Your prisonare, sir!” cried the visitor. “You make joke.”
“Oh no, that’s no joke, mister,” said Smithers. “That’s only obeying orders.”
“But, sir, I insist. I desire to go much.”
“Can’t help it, sir.”
“Then what go you to do? You dare to say you shoot at me?”
“No, sir; not unless you try to run away. My orders would be to stop you, and I should fire at your legs; and it might hurt you very much. But whether it did or whether it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t run any more to-night.”
“Sir,” said the visitor pompously, “you talk like madness. If you do not let me go down to my boat I shall report you to your officer.”
“Yes, sir; that’s what I mean you to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“He will be here by-and-by to relieve guard, and then you can say what you like, and he will take you to our Major.”
“What! Faith of a gentleman, this man is too much mad! But there, I forget myself. You like a glass of rack-ponch?”
“Yes, sir, I like it.”
“Then I have none here; but I have in my pocket a Chinese dollar. It is worth shillings. You get many glasses of rack-ponch. You take it?” and as he spoke he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out in the darkness a broad piece.
“It won’t do,” said Smithers. “You will be only getting me into more trouble, mister.”
“You will not take it?”
“Not me.”
“Then I shall keep it and spend it myself.” With a good deal of gesticulation the speaker thrust the coin back into his pocket, and gave it a heavy slap. “Now, you say to me that my boat is gone, and you say that my men could not see me if I hold up my hand?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Very well. You are very clever, but I know also two or three things. I shall go down to the pier, and call out to my men, ‘Ahoy!’ and then go into the water and swim till they pick me up and put me in a dry place in the boat. Now, what do you say to that?”
“Only this, mister. What do you think your men, if they come, will pick up?”
“Me—myself, sir, with my butterfly moths and my little lanterrne.”
“Ho!” said Smithers dryly. “And what about the crocs?”
“I do not understand.”
“I see you don’t,” said the sentry. “What about the great crocodiles that have been waiting about there all night?”
“The crocodile!” said the visitor; and it was not light enough to see, but the stranger’s jaw dropped, and he remained silent till Smithers spoke again.
“Understand that, mister?”
“Yes; you say that to frighten me. You talk one minute about using yourfusilto shoot me, and I am not afraid. Then you say you throw me to the crocodile, and still I am not afraid.”
“Then look ye here,” said Smithers, “you just give me that little pistol thing you were going to pull out.”
“What! Sir, I re-fuse.”
Smithers stuck the mouth of his rifle against the stranger’s breast-bone, and pressed upon it heavily.
“Sit down,” he said.
“I will not sit down! I re-fuse.”
“Mind,” said Smithers. “I don’t want this rifle to go off.”
“You dare—you dare not shoot,” cried the visitor; but as he spoke he began to subside slowly, as if still mentally resisting, till the sentry raised his foot quickly, gave a sharp thrust, and his prisoner went down suddenly upon his back, with the sentry’s right foot upon his chest.
“Now then, no nonsense. Hand up that pistol.”
The prisoner’s hand went rapidly to his waist as if with the intent of snatching out and making use of his revolver, but quick as a flash the sentry’s rifle was pressed down harder now, close up to the man’s throat.
“That’s right,” said Smithers. “Now drop it.”
There was a few moments’ hesitation, and then the revolver fell softly upon the earth just beyond the shelter of the attap mat.
The next moment Smithers had raised his foot and kicked the pistol aside, but with an unexpected result, for one chamber exploded with a loud bang.
“I’ve done it now,” said Smithers to himself. “As for you, you lie still;” and he held his piece pointing still towards his prisoner while he cleverly retrieved the revolver. “Look here,” he said, “I had orders not to fire, only if it was wanted particular. Well, I haven’t fired, but they will hear that shot and be coming down before you know where you are.”
“What!” cried the prisoner, starting up in a sitting position.
“Look ye here,” cried Smithers; “do you want me to have an accident?”
“No, no; I want you to let me give you many dollars. You must let me go before your officers come.”
“Nothing of the kind, sir. You must talk to them when they come. You are my prisoner, so just lie still.”
As the sentry was speaking the notes of a bugle were ringing out upon the silent night. Hurrying feet could be heard, and it was evident that the night alarm had set the occupants of the cantonments buzzing out like the bees of a hive.
“They don’t know which sentry it was,” thought Smithers, and he was raising his piece to fire and bring the relief to his side, when it struck him that he should be leaving himself defenceless if his prisoner should make a dash to escape.
“Second thoughts is best, says the missus,” he muttered, and taking the revolver from his pocket, he fired it in the air, and after a short interval fired again.
“That’s done it,” he said to himself.—“Hullo! what’s the matter with you?” For his prisoner was rocking himself to and fro as if in pain, and grinding his teeth.
Directly after there was the light of a lantern showing through the trees, shouts were heard and answered by the sentry, and a strong party of the men, led by Captain Down and Archie, surrounded them.
“What’s wrong, Smithers?” cried the Captain eagerly.
“Took a prisoner, sir.”
“Corporal, a light here,” cried Archie; and the man doubled up to throw the rays of the lantern upon the prisoner’s face as he now rose to his feet.
“The Count!” cried Archie.
“Yes, sir. Your stupid sentry, he make a John Bull blunder—a mistake.”
“A mistake?” said the Captain. “Why, how come you here?”
“Only I have my lanterrne and collecting-box, and come down the river to catch specimens of the beautiful moth for the naturalists at home in France. I land from my boat, and the boat come to take me away; but your sentry man re-fuse to let me go.”
“Collecting—lantern!” said the Captain.
“Yes, sir. Look. I fear my beautiful specimens are spoiled in the pannier here. He use me very bad.”
“You mean that you were collecting moths?” said Archie dubiously, as he recalled the rustling sounds he had heard below the veranda that night.
“Yes, sir,” said Smithers gruffly. “I suppose it’s right, what he says, about collecting. Here’s one of his tools;” and he handed the beautifully finished little revolver to the young officer.
“Humph!” grunted the Captain.—“Well, sir, I’m sorry if our sentry behaved roughly to you, but he was only obeying orders, and you ought to know that you had no business here.”
“All a mistake, Captain. You will please make signals for my boat to come.”
“All in good time, sir,” said the Captain, in response to a nudge given by his subaltern; “but you must come up first and make your explanation to the Major.”
“What! It is not necessary, sir.”
“You think so, sir?” said Captain Down. “I and my brother officer think it is.”
Directly after the relief party and their prisoner were on their way to headquarters.