Bob Roberts seized his sword and dashed to the window, leaping boldly
out, and shouting for help; and as he did so he heard the bushes rapidly
parted, the crackling of twigs on ahead, and then, as he neared the
river in pursuit of the assailant, there was a loud splash, followed by
the challenge of a sentry and the report of his piece.
A brisk time of excitement followed, during which a thorough search was
made, but no one was found; and it was evident that the spear had been
thrown by an enemy who had come alone; but the incident was sufficient
to create a general feeling of uneasiness at the residency. The
sentries were doubled, and orders were given that the place should be
carefully patrolled; for though the English were upon an island, the
Malays were such expert swimmers that they could start up stream and let
themselves float down to the head of the island and land.
It was some few days before Bob Roberts was able to pay another visit to
the residency, for he had been out twice with the steamer's boats, in
search of the two escaped Malay prahus, each time on insufficient
information; and after a weary pull through a winding mangrove creek,
had come back without seeing them.
Meantime the relations with the Malays were daily growing in
friendliness. A brisk trade with the shore was carried on, and sampans
from far up the river came laden with fruit, fish, and rice; some
brought poultry, and green sugar-cane for eating; others cocoa-nuts, and
quaint articles for barter. But somehow there was an uneasy feeling on
the island, that though the sultan and his people were friendly, some of
the rajahs detested the English, as being likely to put a stop to their
piratical practices, the destruction of Rajah Gantang's stockade, while
it gave plenty of satisfaction in some parts, being looked upon with
disfavour in others.
"Pretty well all right again, old man?" said Bob, sauntering in one day,
to find the ensign reading.
"Yes, I'm stronger by a good deal than I was," said Tom Long, holding
out his hand.
"No more limbings pitched in at the window, eh?"
"No," said Tom Long with a slight shudder; "I hope that sort of thing is
not going to happen again."
"To which I say ditto," said Bob. "But I say, I know who pitched that
spear at you."
"You do?"
"Yes, it was that Malay chap you offended with the durian."
"Then he must be taken and punished."
"First catch your brown hare, master officer of infantry," said Bob,
smiling. "He won't set foot here again, depend upon it, unless he
slinks in at night. By George, what a malicious lot they must be, to
act like that!"
"Yes, it's not pleasant," said Tom Long, with an involuntary shudder,
as, in imagination, he saw the dark face of his enemy always on the
watch for an opportunity to assassinate him.
"I never finished my account of the trip to the sultan's," said Bob, at
last.
"Was there anything more to tell?"
"Yes, one thing," replied Bob; "the best of the whole lot."
"What was it?"
"Don't get riled if I tell you."
"Pooh! how can it rile me?"
"Oh, I don't know; only it may. It was a proposal made by the sultan to
Mr Linton."
"Proposal! What proposal?"
"Well, I'll tell you; only don't go into fits. It was after we'd been
sitting smoking for a bit, and just before we were coming away. Master
Sultan had shown us all his best things--his gold and silver, and his
slaves, and the dingy beauties with great earrings, and bangles on their
arms and legs, who have the honour of being his wives; and at last he
said something to Mr Linton, who understands his lingo as well as you
and I do French."
"Well, but what did he propose?" said Long, eagerly.
"I got to know afterwards from Captain Smithers," continued Bob, "that
he said he had been thinking very seriously about his position in
connexion with the English, and that he saw how a strong alliance would
be best for all; that it would settle him in his government, and make it
a very excellent match for the English, who would be able to get tin and
rice from the sultan's people, and gold."
"You're as prosy as an old woman," said Tom Long, impatiently.
"Yes, it's an accomplishment of mine," said Bob coolly. "Well, as I was
telling you, he said the proper thing was a very strong alliance; and
the resident said we had already made one. He said he wanted a stronger
one; and he thought the best thing would be for him to marry Miss Linton
and her cousin, and then it would be all right."
"Why, confound his insolence!" said Tom Long, starting up.
"No, no, you must say something else," cried Bob. "I said that as soon
as I heard it."
"Did not Mr Linton knock him down?" cried Tom Long.
"No, he did not. He heard him out, and said it must be a matter of
consideration; and then we came away."
"But it's monstrous!" cried Tom Long.
"Of course it is," said Bob, coolly; "but don't you see it was of no use
to break with the fellow at once. It was a case of diplomacy. We don't
want to quarrel with Master Sultan Hamet: we want to keep friends."
"But it was such an insult to the ladies!"
"He looked as if he thought he was doing them an honour, Master Long, so
it wouldn't have done to fall out with him. There, don't look so
fierce, we've got a difficult game to play here, and our great point is
not to quarrel with the Malays, unless we want spears thrown in at every
dark window while we stay."
Tom Long sat biting his nails, for Bob had touched him in a very tender
part, and he knew it. In fact, the middy rather enjoyed his companion's
vexation, for he had begun, since his memorable conversation with Miss
Linton, to look upon his feelings towards her with a more matter-of-fact
eye.
"I shall have to get about at once," said Tom Long, speaking as if his
weight in the scale would completely make Sultan Hamet kick the beam;
but upon seeing the mirthful look in Bob Roberts' eye, he changed the
subject, and began talking about how he longed to be out and about
again.
"I thought we should get no end of fishing and shooting out here," he
said, "and we've had none as yet."
"Get well, then, and we'll have a try for some," Rob suggested. "There
must be plenty;" and with the understanding that the ensign was to
declare himself fit to be off the doctor's hands as soon as possible,
Bob Roberts returned to the steamer, and then finding it terribly close,
he did what he had acquired a habit of doing when the weather was very
hot, found a snug shady place on deck, and went off to sleep.
That was very easy in those latitudes. Whether the sun shone or whether
it was gloomy, black, and precursive of a thunder-storm, an European had
only to sit down in a rocking chair, or swing in a hammock, and he went
off into a delicious slumber almost on the instant.
So far so good; the difficulty was to keep asleep; and so Bob Roberts
found.
He had settled himself in a low basket-work chair, beneath a stout piece
of awning which shed a mellow twilight upon the deck, and loosening his
collar, he had dropped off at once; but hardly was he asleep before
"burr-urr-urr boom-oom-oom, boozz-oozz-oozz" came a great fly, banging
itself against the awning, sailing round and round, now up, now down, as
if Bob's head were the centre of its attraction, and he could not get
farther away. Now it seemed to have made up its mind to beat itself to
pieces against the canvas, and now to try how near it could go to the
midshipman's nose without touching, and keeping up all the time such an
aggravating, irritating buzz that it woke Bob directly.
There was plenty of room for the ridiculous insect to have flown right
out from beneath the awning and over the flashing river to the jungle;
but no, that did not seem to suit its ideas, and it kept on with its
monotonous buzz, round and round, and round and round.
Half awake, half asleep, Bob fidgeted a little, changed his position,
and with his eyes shut hit out sharply at his tormentor, but of course
without effect.
He turned over, turned back; laid his head on one side; then on the
other; and at last, as the miserable buzzing noise continued, he jumped
up in a rage, picked up a book for a weapon, and followed the fly about,
trying to get a fair blow--but all in vain. He hit at it flying,
settled on the canvas roof; on the arms of chairs, and on the deck, and
twice upon a rope--but all in vain: the wretched insect kept up its
irritating buzz, till, hot, panting, his brows throbbing with the
exertion, Bob made a furious dash at it, and with one tremendous blow
crushed it flat.
The middy drew a long breath, wiped the perspiration from his forehead,
and, panting and weary, threw himself back in the chair, and closed his
eyes.
He was a clever sleeper, Bob Roberts. Like the Irishman who went to
sleep for two or three days, when Bob went to sleep, he "paid attintion
to it." In a few seconds then he was fast, and--truth must be told--
with his mouth open, and a very unpleasant noise arising therefrom.
Vain hope of rest. Even as he threw himself back, a little many-legged
creature, about two inches long, was industriously making its way over
the deck towards where one of the middy's limbs lay outstretched, and in
a few seconds it had mounted his shoe, examined it with a pair of long
thin antenna, and then given the leather a pinch with a pair of hooked
claws at its tail.
Apparently dissatisfied, the long thin yellow insect ran on to the
sleeper's sock, carefully examined its texture, tasted it with its tail,
and still not satisfied, proceeded to walk up one of the very wide open
duck trouser legs, that must have been to it like the entrance to some
grand tunnel, temptingly inviting investigation.
The insect disappeared; Bob snored, and there was the loud buzzing
murmur of men's voices, talking drowsily together, when, as if suddenly
electrified, Bob leaped up with a sharp cry, slapped his leg vigorously,
and stood shaking his trousers till the long thin insect tumbled on to
the white deck, and was duly crushed.
"Scissors! how it stings!" cried Bob, rubbing the place. "O Lor'! what
a place this is to be sure. Who the dickens can get a nod?"
Bob Roberts was determined upon having one evidently, for having given
the obnoxious remains another stamp, he took a look round, to see if any
other pest, winged or legged, had been brought from the shore, and
seeing nothing, he again settled himself down, gave a turn or two and a
twist to get himself comfortable, ending by sitting with his legs
stretched straight out, his head thrown back, and his nose pointed
straight up at the awning.
This time Bob went off fast asleep; his cap fell on to the deck, but it
did not disturb him; and he was evidently making up for lost time, when
a very industrious spider, who had made his home in the awning, came
boldly out of a fold by a seam of the canvas, and with busy legs
proceeded to examine the state and tension of some threads, which it had
previously stretched as the basis of a web upon a geometrical plan,
expressly to catch mosquitoes.
Apparently satisfied, the spider set to work busily, its dark, heavy
body showing plainly against the yellowish canvas; and in a very short
time a main rope was attached to the roof, and the architect of fly-nets
began slowly to descend, in search of a point to which the other end of
the said main-stay could be attacked.
Now fate had so arranged it, that the point exactly beneath the spider
as it slowly descended was the tip of Bob Roberts' nose, and to this
point in the course of a minute the insect nearly arrived.
It may be thought that its next act would be to alight and fix its rope;
but this was not so easy, for the soft zephyr-like breaths the middy
exhaled drove the swinging architect to and fro. Now it came near, now
it was driven away; but at last it got near enough to grasp at the
sleeper's most prominent feature, just brushing it with its legs, and
setting up an irritating tickling that made Bob snort and scratch his
face.
The spider swung to and fro for some seconds, and then there was another
terrible tickle, to which Bob responded by fiercely rubbing the
offending organ.
The spider was driven to a distance by this; but it was back again
directly, with its legs stretched out, tickling as before.
Bob was not asleep, and he was not awake, and he could neither sink into
oblivion, nor thoroughly rouse himself. All he could do was to bestow
an irritable scratch at his nose, and the spider came back again.
At last, spider or no spider, he dropped into a strange dreamy state, in
which he believed that Tom Long came and loomed over him on purpose to
bend down and tickle him, out of spite and jealousy, with the long thin
feather from a paroquet's tail.
"Don't! Bother!" said Bob, in his sleep; but the tickling went on, and
he felt ready to leap up and strike his tormentor; but he seemed to be
held down by some strange power which kept him from moving, and the
tickling still went on.
Then he could hear voices talking, and people seemed to be about,
laughing at and enjoying the trick that was being played upon him; and
then he started into wakefulness, for a voice exclaimed,--
"Come, Mr Roberts, are you going to wake up?"
It was Lieutenant Johnson who spoke; and on the middy jumping up, he
found standing by him, with the lieutenant, the dark-faced youth who had
met them and acted as guide on the occasion when they made their first
visit to the sultan's home.
He was dressed similarly to the way in which he made his first
appearance before the English party; that is to say, he wore the silken
jacket and sarong of the Malay chiefs, with a natty little embroidered
cap, set jauntily upon his head like that of a cavalry soldier; but in
addition he wore the trousers, white shirt-front, and patent leather
boots of an Englishman, and the middy saw that he had a gold albert
chain and straw-coloured kid gloves.
"This gentleman is the son of the Tumongong of Parang, Mr Roberts,"
said the lieutenant, "and he has come on board to see the ship. Take
him round and show him everything, especially the armoury, and let him
understand the power of the guns. Captain Horton wishes it."
The lieutenant looked meaningly at the middy, who saluted, and then
nodded his head in a way that showed he comprehended his task.
"The skipper wants these people to know that it is of no good to try and
tackle us," thought Bob. "Yes, sir," he said aloud, "I'll take him
round;" and then the lieutenant, who had been interrupted in a nap,
saluted the young chief; who salaamed to him gravely, and the two young
men were left alone, gazing straight at one another, each apparently
trying to read the other's thoughts.
"This is a jolly nice sort of a game," said Bob to himself! "How am I
to make him understand? What a jolly fool old Johnson is. Now, my
sun-brown-o cockywax, comment vous portez-vous? as we say in French. Me
no understandy curse Malay's lingo not at all-oh. Bismillah! wallah!
Come oh! and have a bottle oh! of Bass's ale oh!"
"With much pleasure," said the young Malay, laughing. "I am thirsty."
Bob Roberts turned as red as a turkey-cock with vexation.
"What! Can you understand English?" he stammered.
"Rather!" was the reply. "I couldn't make out all you said--not quite,"
he added, laughing meaningly.
"Oh! I say, I am sorry," said Bob frankly. "I didn't know you could
understand a word."
"It's all right," said the young Malay, showing his white teeth, and
speaking fair idiomatic English, though with a peculiar accent. "I've
been a great deal at Penang and Singapore. I like English ways."
"I say, you know," cried Bob, holding out his hand, "it was only my fun.
I wouldn't have chaffed you like that for a moment if I had thought you
could understand."
"No, I suppose not," said the young Malay. "Never mind, I wanted to see
you. That's why I came. Where's the young soldier?"
"What Tom--I mean Ensign Long?"
"Yes, En-sign Long."
"Knocked up. Ill with his wound. He got hurt up the river."
"I did not know it was he," said the young Malay. "Poor fellow!"
"He was in an awful state," said Bob. "Got a kris through his shoulder,
and thought it was poisoned."
"What, the kris? Oh, no. That is nonsense. Our people don't poison
their krises and limbings. The Sakais poison their arrows."
"The whiches?" said Bob.
"The Sakais--the wild people of the hills and jungle. Naked--wear no
clothes."
"Yes," said Bob drily. "I knew naked meant wearing no clothes. So you
Malay folks are not savages, but have got savages somewhere near."
"Savages? wild people," said the young man, with a little flush
appearing through his tawny skin. "The Malay chiefs are gentlemen. We
only are simple in our ways and living."
"Oh! that's it, is it?" said Bob. "Well, come and have this drop of
Bass. I can't stand fizz."
"Fizz?" said the visitor; "what is fizz?"
"Champagne."
"Oh, yes! I know; frothing, bubbling wine, with a pop cork."
"Yes, that's it," said Bob, grinning, "with a pop cork;" and leading the
way below, he got a bottle of Bass and a couple of glasses, which they
sat down and discussed.
"Have a cigar?" said the young Malay, producing a handsome French-made
case.
"Thanky," said Bob. "What are these? Manillas?"
"No; from Deli, in Sumatra," said his visitor. And then they lit-up by
the open window of the gun-room, and sat and smoked for a few minutes in
silence, each watching the other.
"I say," said Bob at last, "this is jolly rum, you know. Why you are
quite an Englishman, young fellow."
"I like English ways," said the young chief, flushing; "some of them.
If I were sultan, I'd take to all the best English customs, and make
them take the place of all our bad ones. Then we should be great."
"Yes," said Bob; "I suppose so."
"Ah," said the young man, sadly, "you laugh. But I could improve our
people."
"Yes, of course," said Bob, hastily. "Now come and see round the ship."
"No, no, let us sit and talk," said the young Malay. "I have seen
plenty of ships. I know all about them."
"Just as you like," said Bob. "Then let's go and sit on deck, under the
awning. It's awfully hot here."
"You think it hot?"
"Yes; don't you?" said Bob.
"No, not at all," said the young Malay, smiling; and rising he followed
the middy on deck.
"That's better," said Bob; "sit down in that cane chair. I say, what's
your name?"
"Ah; what is yours?"
"Robert Roberts; commonly known to my intimates as Bob."
"Intimates? what are intimates?"
"Best friends," said Bob.
"Yes, I understand. May I be an intimate?"
"To be sure you may," said Bob, holding out his hand, which the other
eagerly grasped. "But no larks, you know."
"Larks! what is larks?" said Ali, eagerly.
"I mean, no sticking that kris of yours into a fellow on the sly."
"Nonsense! What bosh!" cried the young Malay.
"Bosh, eh?" said Bob, laughing. "I say, Master Ali, you are civilised,
and no mistake. It is only our very educated people who say _Bosh_!"
"You took the word from us," said the young Malay. "Bosh is good
eastern language, and means _nothing_."
"I've heard it was Turkish," said Bob, drily.
"Well, Turkish; the language of Roum. We look upon the Sultan of Roum
and Stamboul as our greatest chief."
"Oh, I say," cried Bob; "I can't stand this, you know. I thought you
were a young Malay chief, and you are talking like a professor. Look
here, Ali, is there any good fishing here?"
"Yes, oh yes. I'll take you in my boat, and my men shall catch plenty."
"No, no," said Bob. "You take me in the boat, and I'll catch the fish.
But is there any shooting?"
"Shooting!" said the young Malay, laughing; "everything; bird that
flies, bird that swims, tigers, buffalo, deer."
"Where?" cried Bob, excitedly.
"In the great forest--the jungle. Will you come?"
"Will I come?" cried Bob. "Won't I! I say," he went on, excitedly,
"you can't shoot, can you?"
"I practise sometimes," said the young Malay, quietly.
"What with? A blow-pipe?"
"Yes, I can use the sumpitan," said the young Malay, nodding; "but I use
a revolver or a rifle."
"I believe I'm half asleep," muttered Bob. "Haven't got a gun, have
you?"
"Yes; an English gentleman changed with me. I gave him ivory and gold,
and he gave me his double gun."
"Not a breechloader?" said Bob.
"Yes, a breechloader--a Purdey he called it, and a bag of cartridges."
"Oh, I say," cried Bob; "this is rich, you know. I am sorry I was such
an idiot with you at first. But do you mean it? If I get a day ashore,
will you take me where there's some good shooting?"
"Oh, yes, plenty;" was the reply.
Bob Roberts was thoughtful for a few moments.
"I say," he said at last, "I wish Tom Long were here."
"En-sign Long?" said Ali.
"Yes. He's a very cocky fellow, you know; but he's a good one at
bottom."
"Should I like him?"
"Yes, when you got to know him; but he only shows some fellows his
clothes."
"I don't want to see his clothes," said Ali, smiling.
"I mean, some people never get to know what's inside him," said Bob.
"What is `inside him'?" said Ali, whom these mysteries of the English
tongue somewhat puzzled. "Do you mean what he has had to eat?"
"No, no;" said Bob, laughing. "I mean his heart."
"Show people his heart?" said Ali, thoughtfully. "Oh yes, I see; I
understand. You mean he is cold outside, and proud, and does not show
people what he really thinks--like a Malay?"
"Yes, that's what I mean," said Bob, smiling. "But that's like a Malay,
is it? They say one thing, and mean another, do they?"
"Yes," said Ali, gravely--"to their enemies--to the people who try to
cheat, and deceive them. To their real friends they are very true, and
full of faith. But it is time now that I should go."
"I say, though, stop a minute," said Bob sharply. "Are your people
really good friends to us?"
"Yes," said the visitor, "I hope so. I believe so. They are strange at
first, and do not like English ways, like I. Afterwards they will do
the same as I do. Good-bye."
"But about our shooting?" said Bob. "May I bring Tom Long?"
"I should like to know En-sign Long. He is very brave, is he not?"
"Pretty bobbish, I believe," said the middy.
"Is he bobbish, too, like you. Are you not Bob Bobbish?"
"No, no, I'm Bob Roberts," said the middy, laughing. "I mean, Tom Long
is as brave as most fellows."
There was a short consultation then as to time and place of meeting;
after which the young Malay passed over the side into his boat, rowed by
four followers, and was quickly pulled ashore.