The day of the tiger-hunt was at last close at hand. A vast deal of
communication and counter communication had taken place with the sultan,
whose people were making great preparations for the event.
The sultan was constantly sending messengers, and asking that stores
might be given him with plenty of ammunition. Not, though, in any mean
begging spirit, for whenever a couple of his chiefs came with some
request, they were accompanied by a train of followers bearing
presents--food, supplies of the finest rice, sugar-cane, and fruit;
buffaloes and poultry; slabs of tin, little bags of gold dust, specimens
of the native work; an abundance, in short, of useful and valuable
things, all of which were accepted; though there was a grim feeling in
the mind of Mr Linton that pretty well everything had been taken by
force, from some of the sultan's miserable subjects.
Still the policy was, to be on the best of terms with the sultan, and to
hope to introduce reforms in his rule by degrees. The resident took the
old school copy-book moral into consideration, that example was better
than precept, and knowing full well that any sweeping code of rules and
regulations would produce distaste, certain hatred, and perhaps a rising
against the English rule, he determined to introduce little improvements
by degrees, each to be, he hoped, tiny seeds from which would grow grand
and substantial trees.
The tiger-hunt was being prepared for evidently with childlike delight,
and instead of its being a few hours' expedition, it proved that it was
to be an affair of a week. Tents were to be taken, huts to be formed,
and quite a large district swept of the dangerous beasts. For as the
sultan informed the English officers, the tigers had been unmolested for
quite two years, and saving one or two taken in pitfalls, they had
escaped almost scot free. The consequence of this was, that several
poor Malays had been carried off from their rice-fields, and at least a
dozen unfortunate Chinamen from the neighbourhood of some tin mines a
few miles away.
"I never meant to enter into such an extensive affair, gentlemen," said
the resident to Major Sandars and Captain Horton after dinner one day,
when they had all been entertained at the mess-room. "I almost think we
ought to draw back before it is too late."
"Well, I don't know," said Major Sandars. "It will please the sultan if
we take a lot of men, and this is rather a stagnating life. I frankly
tell you I should be very glad of the outing, and I am sure it would do
good to the men."
"I quite agree with you, Sandars," said Captain Horton; and Bob Roberts
and Tom Long, who were opposite one another at the bottom of the table,
exchanged glances. "I want a change, and I should be glad to give my
lads a turn up the country. Drill's all very well, but it gets
wearisome. What do you say, Smithers?"
"I must confess to being eager to go," was the reply. "It seems to me
the only gentleman who does not care for the trip is Mr Linton."
"My dear fellow, you never made a greater mistake in your life," said
Mr Linton, laughing. "Nothing would please me better than to be off
for a couple of months, with a brace of good rifles, and an elephant,
with plenty of beaters. I could even manage to exist for three months
without reading a report, or writing a despatch."
Here there was a hearty laugh, and Mr Linton went on,--"There is one
voice silent--the most important one, it seems to me. Come, doctor,
what do you say? may we all go up the country and live in tents?"
"Hah!" said Doctor Bolter, "now you have me on the hip. I want to go
myself; horribly."
"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" laughed every one in chorus.
"I want to see those black monkeys like our friend Mr Bob Roberts has
for a pet. I say I want to see them in their native state. I want to
get a specimen of the pink rhinoceros, and some of the _Longicorns_.
_Nymphalis Calydonia_ is to be found here, and I must shoot a few
specimens of _Cymbirhynchus Macrorhynchus_, besides supplying my _hortus
siccus_ with a complete series of _Nepenthes_."
"For goodness' sake, doctor, don't go on like that," cried Captain
Horton. "If you want to be cheerful to that extent, give us a
recitation in pure Malay."
"Ah, you may all laugh," said the doctor; "but I'm not ashamed of being
a modest naturalist."
"Modest!" said Major Sandars. "Do you call that modest, to talk big
like that? But come, tell us, may we go safely?"
"That's what I can't quite settle," said the doctor. "I don't know what
to say to you. A week's hunting picnic would be very nice."
"Splendid," said everybody.
"And you'd have a good supply of tents? I can't have my men sleeping in
the open air."
"Abundance of everything," said Major Sandars. "Regular commissariat
stores--mess tent, and the rest of it."
"Stop a minute," said the doctor, "not so fast. You see, what I'm
afraid of is fever."
"We all are," said Captain Horton. "Never mind, take a barrel and keep
a strong solution of quinine always on tap for us. Now then, may we go?
You see if it was on duty we shouldn't study a moment, but as it's a
case of pleasuring--"
"And keeping up good relations with the sultan," said the resident.
"And freeing the country from a pest," said Captain Horton.
"Tigers are pests enough," said the doctor, "but intermittent or jungle
fever is to my mind the pest of the country."
"Yes, of course, doctor," said the resident; "but what do you think, may
we go?"
The doctor sat tapping the table with a dessert knife.
"Will you all promise me faithfully not to drink a drop of water that
has not been filtered?" he said.
"_Yes_, yes, yes," came from all down the table.
"I'll promise, doctor, not to drink any water at all," said Bob Roberts
in a low voice, that was heard, though, by the doctor.
"It strikes me, young gentleman, that you won't get anything stronger,"
he said. "Well, gentlemen, if you'll all promise to abide by my rules,
I'll say _yes; you may go_."
A long quiet conversation was afterwards held, and finally it was
decided that quite half the men should go, and on the eve of the
expedition the final preparations had been made, tents and stores had
been sent ashore ready for a start at daybreak.
The river had been scoured by the corvette's boats, and no trace of
Rajah Gantang's prahus found; in fact, nothing had been heard of him or
them for many days; and all being esteemed satisfactory and safe on that
score, what remained to do was to settle who should stay and protect the
residency and the corvette, and who should go.
As far as the men were concerned, this was soon settled; for the order
was given to fall in, and they were soon ranged in line, every man
anxious in the extreme as to his fate. The next order was for the even
numbered to take two paces back, and the next for the rear-rank men to
fall out; they were the lucky ones, and in a high state of delight.
With the officers it was more difficult. However, that was soon
settled. Captain Horton said that he should go; and gave the corvette
in charge of Lieutenant Johnson. Major Sandars followed his example by
appointing Captain Smithers to the task of taking command of the fort;
and to his great disgust Tom Long found that he was not to be of the
select.
The resident had not intended to go, but so pressing a request that he
would come had arrived from the sultan, that he felt bound to make one
of the party. On the eve of the start the principal talk was of the
qualities and powers of the various rifles and shot guns that had been
brought out to be cleaned and oiled.
Tom Long was solacing himself out in the open air with a strong rank
cigar that had been given him by a brother officer, and very poorly it
made him feel. But he put that all down to the major's account for
depriving him of his treat.
"I'll be even with him, though," he said, breaking out into the habit of
talking aloud. "I won't forget it."
The night was very dark and starless, and he stood leaning up against a
tree, when he heard the splash of oars from the landing-place, a short
sharp order, and then the rattling of a ring-bolt.
"Some one from the steamer, I suppose," he growled. "Gun borrowing,
I'll be bound. They don't have mine, whoever wants it."
"Here you, sir," said a familiar voice, as a figure came up through the
darkness. "Where's Major Sandars--at the officers' quarters or the
residency? Do you hear? Why don't you speak?"
"That path leads to the officers' quarters, Mr Robert Roberts, and the
other leads, as you well know, to the residency. Now go and find out
for yourself, and don't air your salt-junk bluster on shore."
"Salt-junk bluster be bothered," said Bob sharply. "How the dickens was
I to know it was you standing stuck-up against that tree like two tent
poles in a roll of canvass? Here, I've come from the skipper to see if
the major's got any spare leggings, for fear of the noble captain
getting any thorns in his legs."
"Hang the captain!" growled Tom.
"Hang the major, then!" said Bob sharply.
"You may hang them both, if you like," said Tom.
"I should like to kris them all over, till they looked like skewered
chickens ready for the spit," said Bob. "I say, ain't it an awful
shame?"
"Shame, yes," said Tom Long, slightly mollified by his companion's
sympathy. "I don't see why one of us two should be left out of the
party. It isn't much pleasure we get."
"No," said Bob sharply; "but I think if one of us was to go it ought to
have been this young person."
"Well, but you are going, aren't you?" said Tom Long.
"Not I," said Bob. "I'm second officer on board HMS `Startler' till
they come back, that's all."
"But, my dear Bob, I thought you were going. Old Dick, who was ashore
an hour ago, told me you were."
"Then old Dick told you a cram," said Bob. "He said you were going,
though."
"I'll kick old Dick first time I see him," cried Tom Long. "I'm not
going. Smithers and I are to be in charge of the fort."
"You are not going?" cried Bob incredulously.
"No!"
"Oh, I am glad."
"Thanky," said Tom.
"No, I don't mean that," said Bob. "I mean I'm glad I'm not going, now
you are not."
"I say, Bob, do you mean that?" said Tom Long excitedly, and dropping
all his stiffness.
"Of course I do," said Bob. "What's the fun of going without a friend?"
"Bob, you're a regular little brick," said Tom Long. "Shake hands.
'Pon my word I shall end by liking you."
Bob shook hands, and laughed.
"Oh, I say, though," he exclaimed. "Poor old Ali! Won't he be cut up,
just?"
"Yes, he won't like it," said Tom Long thoughtfully. "And he was to
have a big elephant all ready for us."
"Yes," said Bob. "But I say, I wonder we haven't heard from him since
that day he was here."
"Yes, he might have sent a message of some kind."
"He's been up the country with a butterfly net to catch an elephant for
us," said Bob, laughing.
"And now he'll have it all to himself," said Tom.
"I'll bet half a rupee that he don't," said Bob.
"Oh, yes, he will," said Tom. "I rather like him, though. He isn't a
bad sort of nigger."
"Don't call the fellows _niggers_," said Bob impatiently; "they don't
like it."
"Then they mustn't call us _giaours_ and _dogs_," said Tom impatiently.
"Look here," cried Bob, "I must go on after these leggings for the
skipper; but, I say, Tom, as I said before, I'll bet half a rupee that
Ali don't go to the hunt when he finds we are to stay."
"Stuff!"
"Well, it may be stuff; but you see if he don't stop behind, and, as
soon as they are all off, come across here."
"I wish he would," said Tom. "It'll be dull enough."
"If he does, we'll have a good turn at the fish," said Bob. "Good
night, if I don't see you again."
"I say," said Bob, turning round and speaking out of the darkness.
"Well?"
"I don't wish 'em any harm; but I hope they won't see a blessed tiger
all the time they're away."
"So do I," said Tom. "Good night!"
"Good night!" And Bob found the major; borrowed the pair of canvas
leggings, with which he returned to the boat, and was rowed back to the
corvette, where he had the pleasure of going over the captain's shooting
gear, and helping him to fill his cartridge cases, and the like.
"You'll have to go on a trip yourself Roberts, by-and-by," said the
captain.
"Thank-ye, sir," said Bob. "When, sir, please?"
"When the soreness about rescuing those slave girls has worn off, Master
Bob Roberts," said the captain, smiling. "I can't afford to have one of
my most promising young officers krissed."
"All soft soap and flam," said Bob to himself, as he went out on deck.
"Promising officer, indeed. Well, he's a promising officer, and I'll
keep him to his promise, too; and old Ali, and Tom, and I will have
another day to ourselves."