There is a strange kind of stoicism about a Mohammedan that seems to
give him an abundance of calmness when he comes face to face with death.
He is a fatalist, and quietly says to himself what is to be will be,
and he resigns himself to his fate.
The young chief Ali was imbued with all the doctrines of his people; but
at the same time he had mixed so with the English that he had learned to
look upon life as of too much value to be given up without a desperate
struggle. One of his compatriots would have made a fight for his life,
and when he had seen all go against him he would have given up without a
murmur and looked his slayers indifferently in the face. Ali, however,
did not intend to give up without another effort, and though he seemed
indifferent, a terrible struggle was going on within his breast.
Thoughts of his father, of his new friends, of the bright sunshine of
youth, and the future that had been so full of hope, and in which he had
meant to do so much to improve his country--all rose before his
wandering eyes, and he had meant to seize the first opportunity to
escape.
The approach of the kris-armed Malay, though, had been so sudden that
all his calculations had been upset, and he had had no time to design a
means of escape. He was tightly bound, held by two others, and this man
was evidently under orders from the sultan to slay him.
It was useless to struggle, he knew--just as vain to waste his strength,
and rob himself of his calmness; so that he felt bound to call up all
his fortitude, and with it the fatalistic theories of his race, so that
he might die as behoved the son of a great chief.
He drew himself up then, and stood gazing at the man with the kris as
calm and motionless as if he had been made of bronze, and awaited the
deadly stroke.
This, however, did not come; for in place of delivering a deadly thrust,
the Malay roughly seized him by the shoulder, and began to saw away
through the prisoner's bonds.
He was so firmly secured that this process took some time, during which
Ali, by the strange revulsion that came upon him, felt as if he must
fall prone upon his face from sheer giddiness; but by an effort he stood
firm till his limbs were set free.
His wrists were painfully marked, and his arms felt numb and helpless,
but his first thought, as soon as the ligatures that had held him were
off, was how to escape.
His captors read this and smiled, each man drawing his kris and showing
it menacingly, while their leader told him that he was a prisoner until
the sultan's wishes were known.
"Are you not going to kill me?" said Ali passionately.
"Not yet," was the reply, "unless you try to escape, when we are to kill
you like a dog, and throw you into the river."
"But why?" asked Ali; "what have I done?"
"I know nothing," was the surly reply.
"Does my father know of this?" cried Ali.
"I know nothing," said the Malay.
"But you will tell me what your instructions are, and where you are
going to place me."
"I know nothing. I tell nothing," said the Malay. "Be silent. That is
your prison. If you try to escape, you die."
Ali burned to ask more questions, but he felt that it would be useless,
and that he, a chief's son, was only losing dignity by talking to the
man, whom he recognised now as being the sultan's most unscrupulous
follower, the scoundrel who did any piece of dirty work or atrocity.
This was the man who, at his master's wish, dragged away any poor girl
from her home to be the sultan's slave; who seized without scruple on
gold, tin, rice, or any other produce of the country, in his master's
name, and for his use. His hands had been often enough stained with
blood, and while wondering at his life being spared so far, Ali had no
hesitation in believing that any attempt at escape would be ruthlessly
punished by a stab with the kris.
Obeying his captors, then, Ali went into the inner room of the ruined
house, and seated himself wearily upon the floor, thinking the while of
the hunting expedition, and of the light in which his conduct would be
viewed by his friends.
Then he wondered whether his father would send in search of him; but his
heart sank as he felt that, in all probability, the Tumongong would be
carefully watched by the sultan's orders, and that any movement upon his
son's behalf would result in his own death.
Then he began to feel that, if he was to escape, it must be through his
own efforts; for he had so little faith in Hamet's nature, that he knew
that his existence trembled upon a hair.
He was in an inner room of the house, little better in fact than a
bamboo cage. The place was old, but he could see that here and there
his prison had been mended with new green bamboos, especially about the
flooring, through which he could see down to the earth, some twelve feet
below, the sunlight shining up between the short bamboos, just as a few
gleams of sunshine came through the attap roof.
There had been a window, but this had been filled in with stout bamboo
cross-pieces, through and between which were woven long lengths of
rattan; but the weak places had been made strong, and from old
experience he knew that, unless armed with a heavy knife, it would be
impossible to force a way through the tough wall of bamboo and woven
cane.
The place was very gloomy, from the closing of the window; and as he
glanced round he could see that his guards had been joined by
half-a-dozen more, and that they were making themselves comfortable in
the outer place, but in such a position that they could command a full
view of his room.
Judging from appearances, they were preparing for a lengthened stay, for
some of them were arranging cooking utensils; others placing pieces of
dammar, a sort of fossil gum, of a pale blue tint, and very inflammable,
ready for lighting up the part of the house where they were assembled.
After a time one of the number made ready the meal, for which his
companions seemed to be impatiently waiting; and first of all a portion,
consisting of broiled fish, some fruit, and sago, was brought to the
prisoner, who, before partaking thereof, was rigorously searched, to see
if he still bore any arms about his person. Satisfied upon this point,
the Malays left him with his food, and proceeded to feast themselves,
after which some began smoking, and some betel-chewing.
It was evident to Ali that he was to be kept a close prisoner; and as he
lay there upon the bamboo floor, with his untouched food before him, he
began to think out his position, and to calculate as to the possibility
of escape.
How was it to be done?
His guards were so watchful that his slightest movements drew two or
three pairs of eyes upon him, and he knew of old how quick they were of
hearing. He felt assured that they would take it in turns to sleep, and
hence he would have no opportunity of eluding their vigilance. Still he
was hopeful, for there is an elasticity in the mind of youth which some
things dash, when the spirit of middle or old age would be broken.
If he stayed where he was, sooner or later he felt sure that Hamet would
be weary of the trouble he caused, and give orders for his death. So
escape he must. But why should Hamet give orders for his death? Why
should he wish him to be kept a close prisoner?
It was a puzzle that he could not solve; but at last, as he lay there
thinking, the light broke more and more into the darkness of his mind.
It would be, he was sure, something to do with his intimacy with the
English; and if so, Hamet's friendship was false.
Ali had suspected him for some time; and as he lay thinking, it seemed
to him that he was correct in surmising that though Hamet was sincere
enough, perhaps, when he made his first arrangements for the reception
of a resident, the act had given such annoyance to several of the
neighbouring Malay princes, notably to Rajah Gantang, that in his fear
for his personal safety the sultan had repented of the arrangement, or
had been coerced by those who might, he knew, in spite of the English
being at hand, secretly have him assassinated.
This being the case, then, what should he do?
It was still a hard problem to solve, but as he went on thinking, Ali's
brow grew damp, for he started upon a strange current of reasoning.
Sultan Hamet knew little of the English power. Certainly, they had good
fighting men and guns; but they were small in number, and he might
easily overcome them, and the people at Singapore or Penang would not
dare to send more. If they did, the new contingent could be served the
same as the old.
Ali's blood turned cold. Certain little things, which had only slightly
roused his curiosity, now assumed an ominous significance; and as he
thought, he started hastily into a sitting position.
This movement caused his guards to turn upon him; and seeing that he had
excited their curiosity, he bent down over the supply of food placed for
him, and began to eat as calmly as if nothing whatever troubled his
spirit. But all the same, he was wet with perspiration, and his heart
beat painfully; for the light had come, and he saw plainly enough that
something was wrong.
This was why he was a prisoner. Hamet knew of his intimacy with the
young Englishmen, and feared that he would learn his plans and
communicate them at the residency, perhaps to their defeat.
There was danger, then, threatening those whom he had made his friends.
Hamet had yielded to the taunts of Rajah Gantang and others, and also
given up to his own desire for revenge.
The resident had offered him a deadly insult in refusing to listen to
the matrimonial proposal, and also in refusing to give up the slaves who
had taken refuge with him.
Here was plenty of cause for hatred--a hatred that had been concealed
under a mask of smiles; and now it was evident that Hamet meant to
strike a blow at the English, destroying them, gaining possession of
their arms and stores, and--the thought made him shudder as he pretended
to be eating--get the two tenderly-nurtured ladies into his power.
How and when would this be done? Ali asked himself, and again came a
flash of light, and he saw it all plainly enough. A trap had been laid
for the English, and they were walking into it--that hunting-party!
It was all plain enough; the English force would be divided. A part
would be marched to some suitable part of the jungle, miles away, and
beyond the reach of their friends, where even the sounds of firing could
not be heard, and then they would be set upon, and butchered in cold
blood, most likely during their sleep.
This was the tiger-hunt, then, with the unfortunate English party being
led directly into the tiger's lair!
It was terrible! The young man's face became convulsed with horror as
he thought of the massacre that must ensue, and then of the surprise of
those on the island and on the ship. Treachery, he knew, would be
brought to bear in both cases, and here was he, knowing all, and yet
unable to stir.
At all hazards, even that of death, he must make the venture, and warn
those in peril; but where must he go first?
A moment decided that.
To the steamer and the island, and afterwards to the hunting-party;
which would be easy enough to follow by their track, if they had gone.
In the eager impulse of the determination, he sprang to his feet to go,
but as he did so three Malays sprang to their feet, and each man drew
his kris.