With a cry of horror Bob Roberts leaped forward, and caught the Malay's
wrist in time to avert the blow, the Kling starting forward the next
instant, and helping to hold the infuriate Asiatic; while Tom Long
struggled up and leaped ashore, where a knot of soldiers and sailors
were gathering.
"Don't say anything, Tom," cried Bob. "Here you--tell him he did not
mean to offend him," he continued to the Kling, who repeated the words;
and the Malay, who had been ready to turn on the midshipman, seemed to
calm down and sheathed his kris; while the Kling spoke to him again with
the result that the offended man sat himself down in the boat, gazing
vindictively at the young ensign ashore.
"Here, no more durian to-day, thank you," said Bob, handing the Kling a
dollar. "And look here, you sir; don't let that fellow get whipping out
his kris on any of our men, or he'll be hung to the yard-arm as sure as
he's alive."
"He much angry, sahib," said the Kling, whose swarthy visage had turned
of a dirty clay colour. "Soldier sahib hurt him much."
"Yes, but if we hadn't stopped him he'd have hurt my friend much more."
As he spoke Bob nodded shortly to the Kling, and leaped ashore. "Sahib
not take his flowers," said the latter, and dipping them in the river,
and giving them a shake, he left the boat and handed the beautiful
blossoms to the young sailor, who directly after joined Tom Long, who
looked, in spite of his sunburnt visage, rather "white about the gills,"
to use Bob's expression.
"That fellow ought to be shot. I shall report this case," cried the
ensign angrily.
"I don't think I should," said Bob quietly. "You see you did upset the
poor fellow, and they are an awfully touchy lot."
"It was all your fault for playing me that confounded trick," cried Tom
Long, passionately.
"Trick? I played no trick," said Bob, indignant to a degree at the
accusation.
"You did," cried Tom Long, "humbugging me into eating that filthy
fruit."
"Why, it was delicious," cried Bob. "I should have gone on and finished
mine if you hadn't made that upset."
"I don't care; it was a nasty practical joke," cried Tom Long, "and--I
beg your pardon, Roberts," he said, suddenly changing his tone, and
holding out his hand. "I believe you saved my life."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Bob. "He only meant to prick you with his kris."
"Heaven defend me from all such pricks!" said Tom Long, devoutly, as he
held the middy's hand in his. "I say, Bob Roberts, I wish you and I
could agree better."
"So do I," said Bob, giving the hand he held a hearty shake; "But we
never shall. I always feel as if I wanted to quarrel with you, as soon
as we meet."
"So do I," said Tom Long. "You are such an aggravating little beggar."
"It is my nature to," said Bob, laughing. "But you won't say anything
about this affair, shall you? It will be a lesson how to deal with the
natives."
"If you think I had better not, I won't," said Tom Long, thoughtfully.
Then, with a shudder, "I say, I felt just as if I was going to have that
horrid kris in me. I shall never forget this, Bob Roberts."
"Oh, stuff and nonsense! Here, I say, have one of these bunches of
flowers, old fellow."
"No, no; I don't want them," said the ensign, colouring up.
"Yes, yes; take one. Quick, here are the ladies. I'm going to give my
lotuses to Miss Sinclair," he said quietly. And as Tom Long's fingers
closed upon the arums, the ladies, who were walking with the resident
came close up.
"Ah, Mr Long," said the latter, "what a lovely bunch of arums!"
"Yes sir," said Tom, looking very red in the face; "they're for the mess
table."
"Your lotuses are lovely, Mr Midshipman Roberts," said Miss Linton,
smilingly greeting the frank-faced lad.
"Aren't they, Miss Linton?" said Bob. "I'm just going to send them
aboard to the first luff; he's rather poorly."
They parted; and it was quite true, for after looking rather
shame-facedly the one at the other, the ensign bore off his arums to the
mess-room, and the lotuses were sent on board the "Startler" by the very
next boat.
There was nothing more said respecting the adventure with the Malay
boatman; but the two youths, who were a good deal puzzled in their own
minds, as to whether they were friends or enemies, exchanged glances a
day or two later, when stringent orders were issued respecting the
behaviour of the Englishmen to the natives. The men of both services
were warned to be very careful, especially as it was the custom for the
Malays to carry the deadly kris. The character of the people too was
enlarged upon, their pride and self-esteem; and strict orders were
given, to be followed by severe punishment if disobeyed, that the people
and their belongings were to be treated with the greatest respect.
Every one was as busy as could be, for there was an immense amount of
labour necessary to get the place into a state satisfactory to the
various officers. Great preparations were being made too for the first
meeting with Sultan Hamet, though it was a matter of doubt whether he
would come to the residency in state, or expect the English to call upon
him in his palm-thatched palace.
"He's a rum sort of a chap," Dick the sailor said, freely giving his
opinion. "Sultan, indeed! What call have they to say he's a sultan?
Why, Sergeant Lund, Billy Mustard, and that sick chap Sim, who went
ashore with despatches, come back last night, and they say it's no more
a palace as he lives in than a pig-sty. It's for all the world like a
big bamboo barn, thatched with leaves."
"What's that?" said Bob Roberts, coming up, with the young ensign, to
where two or three of the sailors were, under the trees, talking to a
group of soldiers.
"I was a telling of 'em about what Sergeant Lund told me, sir," said
Dick, pulling his forelock, "that this here sultan as we've come here to
protect lives in a place as is just like a big bamboo barn standing on
stilts. And Lor' ha' mercy, they say it was a sight: with leaves, and
cabbage stumps, and potato parings chucked about under the place!"
"Now come, Dick," cried the middy; "no yarns, please."
"Well sir, of course I don't mean real English cabbage stumps and potato
parings, same as we has at home, but what answers for 'em here, and
coky-nut huxes and shells, and banana rinds, and a nasty bad smelling
kind o' fruit as they calls doorings."
Bob gave the ensign a comical look.
"Why Billy Mustard says--and this here's a fack--as the smell o' them
doorings."
"Durians, Dick."
"All right, sir," said the old sailor; "that don't make 'em smell a bit
better--the smell o' them things knocked him slap off his feet."