The sun rose over the dense forest, turning the river mists into gauzy
veils, that floated rapidly away, leaving the rapid stream sparkling in
the soft morning breeze. The brightly-coloured parroquets flew
shrieking from bank to bank; and in the thick jungle, across from the
end of the island, the noisy chattering of a party of monkeys could be
heard.
But bright as was the scene in all the gorgeous tints of tropic scenery,
no one on the isle or in the steamer had a thought for anything but the
expedition. At the residency, Rachel Linton and her cousin had watched
the starting of the boats in the dim starlight, and they had sat ever
since at their window, listening for tidings. The noise of the distant
firing had reached them, making their breath come short as they started
at each volley. Even by the very faintly-heard pattering of the small
arms, broken occasionally by the loud report of boat-gun or lelah, they
knew that quite a sharp fight must be raging.
Twice over they were visited by the major's wife, for the major could
not rest, but kept going to the steamer to consult with Captain Horton,
as to whether they had done everything possible to ensure success.
Mrs Major Sandars found the two ladies pale and anxious to a degree;
and though she refrained from saying so, she shook her head, telling
herself that this excess of anxiety was due to something more than the
absence of a father and uncle, especially as the resident was not a
fighting man.
She sat with them for long at a time, trying to comfort them, as she saw
their agitation, and then grew as anxious herself, especially when the
tide of the little war swept their way, and she heard the volleys bred
from the boat, as the two prahus came down the stream.
At last, just as a couple of Malay fishermen had been engaged to help
pilot the steamer up the river, where Captain Horton had determined to
go in quest of the missing expedition, the sentry at the point of the
island challenged, and the ship's boats were seen coming round a point,
the sun gleaming brightly on the barrels of the rifles, while the white
jackets and frocks of the soldiers and sailors gave life to a scene that
was one series of gloriously tinted greens.
Glasses were brought to bear, and it was evident that it was no dejected
beaten party returning, for no sooner did they see that they were
observed than the men began cheering, their shouts bringing the Malays
flocking down to the river side, where several chiefs were seen
embarking in a naga, or dragon-boat, eager, though looking very stolid,
to hear the news.
It was on the whole good, for on the party landing it was to announce
that they had, after a sharp fight, captured the stockade, driving the
Malays, who were headed by the Rajah Gantang himself, to take refuge in
another stockade, in a ravine some three miles inland, and then the
river fort was set on fire.
The officer who had attacked the second prahu had met with similar
ill-success to Lieutenant Johnson, and upon relating the incidents of
the fight, found but little sympathy from the late occupants of the
other boat, who were rather rejoiced to find they had not been excelled.
The escape of the second prahu was followed by a short council; and
several Malays being found ready enough to act as guides to the
stockade, to which the rajah and his men had fled, it was decided to
follow him up, and read him a second severe lesson.
It was a risky proceeding, for the guides might prove treacherous and
lead them into an ambush; but after giving them notice that they would
receive no mercy if they proved false, a small portion of the little
force was left in charge of the boats, and, lightly equipped, the men
went off in search of the second stronghold.
It proved to be an arduous task, for the way was through one of the
jungle-paths, with walls of dense vegetation right and left, of the most
impenetrable nature. Every here and there, too, the enemy had cut down
a tree, so that it fell with the branches towards the pursuers, who were
compelled to force a way through the dense mass that choked the narrow
path.
But these impediments were laughed at by the Jacks, who hacked and
hewed, and soon made a passage, through which, in the darkness of the
forest, the little force crept on till they halted, panting, for the
Malay guides to go on first, and act the part of scouts.
"Perhaps to give warning of our coming," said Captain Smithers.
"No," said Tom Long, "I don't think that. I should say that they have
had spies out all along the path, and that they know our position to an
inch."
"You are right, Long," said Captain Smithers, as, one after the other,
several reports rang out. "They are firing on our friendly Malays."
So it proved, for the men came running back to say that they had been
fired upon as soon as they neared the stockade; and now, as there was no
chance of a surprise, the men were divided, and, each party under its
leader, started off to try and flank the place.
This was something new to the Malays, who looked upon it as unfair
fighting, and the result was, that after five minutes' sharp,
hand-to-hand engagement, the rajah and his men once more took to the
woods, and the second stockade was burned.
This was so satisfactory a termination, that it seemed to make up for
the loss of the two prahus. These, however, Captain Horton said the
ship's boats would soon hunt out; and the Malay chiefs went back to the
sultan, to announce to him the defeat of his old enemy; while at the
island every one was occupied about the hospital and the wounded men,
who, poor fellows, were carefully lifted ashore, the doctor saying that
the sailors would be far better on the island, in a tent beneath the
shady trees, than on shipboard.
"Ten wounded, major," he said sharply, "and not a man dangerously. I'll
soon set them right. Steady there, my boys; lift them carefully."
A goodly group had assembled by the landing-place when the men were
brought ashore, the ladies being ready with fruit and cool drink for the
poor fellows; and Bob Roberts, who had come to the landing-place with
Captain Horton in the gig, felt quite envious.
An hour or two's sleep had set him right, and he felt none the worse for
his adventure; but there was Tom Long being lifted carefully ashore by
two of the sailors, and Rachel Linton and Mary Sinclair eagerly waiting
on the youth, for he had received a real wound this time, and looked
most interestingly pale.
"Just like my luck," grumbled Bob. "He gets comfortably wounded, and
they will be taking him fruit and flowers every day. I shouldn't wonder
if they had him carried up to the residency, so that he would be handy,
and--hang me if it ain't too bad. Oh! 'pon my word, I can't stand this;
they are having him carried up to the house. Just my luck. I get a
contemptible ducking, and no one wants to wait upon me."
Bob ground his teeth and looked on, while Tom Long was sympathised with
and talked to on his way up to the residency, where, after swallowing
his wrath, as the middy expressed it, he got leave to go up and see his
friend.
"My friend!" he said, half aloud, as he walked on through the brilliant
sunshine. "Lor', how I do hate that fellow! I wish I had had the kris.
I'd have given the Malay such a oner as he wouldn't have forgotten in a
hurry. Poor old Tommy, though I I hope he isn't hurt much. How do you
do, Miss Linton?" he said stiffly, as he encountered Rachel Linton in
the verandah.
"Quite well, I thank you, Mr Roberts," said Rachel, imitating his
pompous stiffness, and curtseying profoundly; "how do you do?"
"Oh! I say; don't, Miss Linton. What a jolly shame it is," he cried,
throwing off all form. "You always laugh and poke fun at me."
"Not I, Mr Roberts," she replied. "When you are stiff and formal, I
shape my conduct to suit yours; when you come as the nice, frank, manly
boy that we are always so glad to see, I am sure I never laugh at you
then."
"Boy? Yes, of course, you always treat me like a boy," said Bob,
dolefully. "Is a fellow never going to be a man?"
"Far too soon, I should think," said Miss Linton, holding out her hand.
"Oh! I'm only a boy," said Bob, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and
looking so sadly injured, and in so comical a way, that Miss Linton
could hardly refrain from laughing.
"Such a boy as I'm sure we are all very proud of," said Miss Linton.
"We have heard from my father and Lieutenant Johnson how bravely you
behaved last night."
"Gammon!" said Bob, blushing scarlet. "I only behaved like a boy. How
is the wounded man you have had brought up here--Mr Ensign Long?"
"Poor boy!" said Rachel Linton quietly; "he has a nasty wound."
"Say that again, Miss Linton," cried Bob excitedly; "it does me good."
"He has a nasty wound. Are you so pleased, then, that your friend is
badly hurt?" said Miss Linton gravely.
"No, no; of course not. I mean the other," cried Bob.
"Why, what did I say?"
"You said `Poor boy!'" exclaimed the middy.
"Of course I did," said Miss Linton, raising her eyebrows.
"Say it again, please," said Bob.
"Poor boy! I am very sorry for him."
"That does me a deal of good," cried Bob excitedly. "You know I can't
stand it, Miss Linton, for you to think of him as a man and of me as
only a boy."
"Why, you silly, foolish boy!" she said, laying her hand upon his
shoulder, and gazing full in his face, "of course I think of you both as
what you are--a pair of very brave lads, who will some day grow to be
officers of whom England will be very proud."
"If--if I'm not a man now," said Bob, in a low, husky voice, "I shall
never grow to be one."
"Not grow to be a man? Why, what do you mean?" said Miss Linton.
"I don't know," faltered Bob, "only that it's precious miserable, and--
and I wish one of the jolly old Malays would stick his old kris right
through my heart, for there don't seem anything worth living for when
one can't have what one wants."
Rachel Linton gazed at him half sad and half amused.
"Do you wish me to think of you, Robert Roberts, with respect and
esteem?"
"I'd give all the world to be one of your dogs, Miss Linton, or your
bird."
"Do you mean to be a goose?" said Miss Linton, laughing. "There, I did
not mean to hurt your feelings," she added frankly; "but come, now, give
up all this silly nonsense, and try to remember that you are after all
but a boy, whom I want to look upon as a very dear friend."
"Do you really?" said Bob.
"I do, really," said Miss Linton, holding out her hand; "a friend whom I
can believe in and trust, out in this dangerous place, and one who will
not make my life wretched by being silly, romantic, and sentimental."
Bob gripped the hand extended to him, and held it for a few moments.
"There," he said firmly, as he seemed to shake himself together, "I see
it now. It's all right, Miss Linton; and it's better to be a brick of a
boy than a weak, puling noodle of a man, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is," cried Miss Linton, laughing merrily.
"There, I'm your man--I mean I'm your boy," cried Bob; "and I'll let you
see that I'm a very different fellow to what you think. Now I want to
go and see poor old Tom Long. I am sorry he's hurt."
"You are now more like the Bob Roberts, midshipman," said Miss Linton,
"whom I saw first some months ago, than I have seen for a long time."
"All right," said Bob; "now let's go and see the other poor boy."
"Come along, then," she said, smiling; "but I'm afraid that Tom Long
will not be so easy to convince that he has not yet arrived at years of
discretion."
As she spoke Miss Linton softly opened the door unseen, and let Bob
Roberts enter a cool and airy well-shaded room, closing the door upon
him, and herself gliding away.