"I say, Hilton, old fellow, I liked that," drawled Chumbley.
"Liked what?"
"Why the way in which you smothered up all your old resentment against
that poor woman. You know you were breathing out fire and slaughter
against her when we got away."
"Well, I was angry then, and mortified, and troubled."
"And now it's all balm, and oil-olive, and honey, eh, old fellow? The
beating, bounding heart at rest."
"Don't be an idiot!"
"Why not? The ways of wisdom are hard, and cold, and thorny. Folly is
pleasant sometimes."
"You don't think so."
"Indeed I do. You heard what an idiot I was in throwing up that
Barlowesque chance?"
"Was that meant for a pun on burlesque?"
"I didn't mean it," said Chumbley. "Take it so if you like. But I say,
old fellow, I am glad that you have smoothed down about the Inche
Maida."
"Weak, silly woman!" cried Hilton. "Oh, I don't know. It was her
foreign way of looking at her chances. These people are regular
gamblers. Look at those two fellows there fighting those gamecocks.
I'll be bound to say they are staking their all upon the event!"
"Likely enough. That scoundrel Murad staked his all and lost!"
"Heavily," said the lieutenant. "The Princess staked heavily too, and
lost; but thanks to you, she comes off pretty easily except in the
disappointment. You bury that affair, of course?"
"Yes, of course! It is impossible to avoid it!"
"Agreed," said Chumbley. "Well, I'm glad you kept it down; it would
have made us so very ridiculous. I'm off now to have a nap, and then to
get ready my gun and things for the journey to-morrow."
"I don't know that I should care to go with you," said Hilton.
"Won't be bad. I shall sit back in the boat, and rest a good deal I
daresay. Old Bolter will talk me to sleep, safe. Ta-ta."
"Good-bye, old fellow;" and the young men separated, Chumbley for his
quarters, Hilton to go and seek out Grey.
The next morning at daybreak, after infinite cautions from Mrs Bolter,
the doctor prepared to start.
"Is there anyone who ought to be seen--anyone you remember?" said the
little lady.
"No one but the Barlow woman. You might drop in there," replied the
doctor.
"Oh, no, Henry; really I could not," said Mrs Bolter, wringing her
hands.
"Never mind, then. She won't hurt. She said, as soon as she knew I was
going, that she should die if I did not bring Arthur back. I say, my
dear, it's almost enough to make one say one wishes he may never come."
"Oh, Henry!" cried Mrs Bolter. "I'd sooner suffer a dozen Mrs Barlows
than Arthur should not be found!"
"Very well, then, I don't come back without him," said the doctor.
"Henry!"
"If I can help it," he replied; and for the next few moments any one
might have taken them for a gushing young couple of eighteen and
twenty-three before they tore themselves apart, and the doctor hurried
away.
Love is an evergreen. Only give it fair treatment, and the leaves will
never fall.
"Come, doctor," roared Chumbley, as the little man approached the boat.
"Do you call this daybreak?"
"Yes, broad daybreak!" said the doctor, chuckling; and the next minute
the boat was under weigh, with Yusuf and a crew to use the poles for
punting over the shallows.
The desire was strong in the doctor to devote himself a good deal to the
pursuit of his hobby, but he sternly put it down.
"No, Chumbley," he said, "not this time. I'm a weak man, and I talked
to you about Sol--ahem!--about my hobby, eh? Didn't say it that time--
and if we come across anything relating to Oph--I mean my hobby--why,
well and good, we'll investigate it; but I mean business; and Yusuf here
has given me good hopes of being successful, for of course it is absurd
to imagine that they have killed poor old Arthur!"
"What do you propose doing first, then?" said Chumbley, rousing himself
from a drowsy contemplation of the banks, and thinking how pleasantly
life would glide on in a place like this.
"I think I shall leave Yusuf to follow his own bent," replied the
doctor. "He is a close, dry fellow, but he seems to know a great deal,
and he will not speak till he is sure. That is it, is it not, Yusuf?"
"Yes, master," said the Malay, who was toiling hard with the doctor's
old boatman Ismael. "If I said to the chiefs I know where the Christian
priest is, and took them to the place and he was not there, they would
be angry. So I will take them to the place I think of. If the
Christian priest is there, it is good. If he is not, the misfortune is
not so bad, and the chiefs will not be so hard upon their guide."
"Well, Ismael, what have you to say?" said the doctor, as he caught his
old boatman looking at him very intently.
"I was thinking of the lives of all here, master," said Ismael. "We do
not wish to die, we people of the country; but when the time comes we
say `Yes, it is our fate, and we close our eyes;' but you English
chiefs, it is not right that you should die. We love the doctor, for he
is good to us, our wives and children."
"Oh, all right," said the doctor, heartily. "What do you mean? You are
afraid there is risk?"
"Great danger, master!" said Yusuf. "Murad will surely have us hunted
out and slain for showing you his secret house in the jungle!"
"Another secret house, eh?" said Chumbley, rousing himself a little
more. "Well, look here, old Cockolorum."
Yusuf seemed to consider this a title conferring a dignity, for he
smiled gravely and bowed.
"And you too, old Beeswax," continued Chumbley, addressing Ismael, who
seemed disappointed at Yusuf getting all the honours, but who now smiled
and bowed as well. "You think that Murad will come down on you both for
betraying his secrets?"
"It is not betraying, master," said Yusuf. "We have found the place,
and we show it to you. Murad did not trust us."
"All right," continued Chumbley. "Well, let me tell you this, that by
this time Rajah Murad, or the Sultan as you call him, is safe under lock
and key."
"Thy servant does not understand," said Yusuf.
"The chief means he is shut up in a little box with the key in his
pocket," interpreted Ismael, gravely.
"That will do," said Chumbley, smothering a laugh. "He is safe in
prison, and you will never see him here again."
"It is enough," said Yusuf. "The English are my masters, and I trust to
them that their servant shall not have the kris."
"Now then, how long have you known of this place?"
"Two days, master: a friend told me that his brother was there as guard,
but he knew no more."
"And you will take us there?" said Chumbley.
"Straight if the chief commands," said Yusuf; and the boat was urged
forward.
It was on the second day that the little boat was turned into the stream
that had become familiar to the doctor, and he exclaimed at once:
"This won't do. I know of that place. The chaplain is not there."
"No, not there," said Yusuf. "We shall see."
The doctor gave a grunt of satisfaction, half an hour later, when,
instead of following the windings of this minor stream, the sampan's
head was suddenly turned towards a dense mass of tall reeds, and the men
paddled with all their might, driving the boat through the water-growth,
and after a hundred yards of rough progression, they passed into a large
lagoon, dotted with patches of a kind of lotus, and with other
water-plants sufficiently beautiful to drive the doctor into raptures.
"But no," he exclaimed; "I will not be tempted to botanise any more than
I will be to look upon the spots where Sol--I mean--that is--"
"I say, doctor, we've been out over twelve hours," drawled Chumbley,
"and you haven't yet said it once. Let it go."
"Solomon's ships came in search of gold!" cried the doctor, as if
relieved.
"Well, they didn't come here, doctor, or they would soon have been
aground."
"No: of course not," said the doctor; "but what I mean is, that I will
not yield to my hobby this time until poor Arthur Rosebury is found. I
promised his sister, and I'll keep my word."
That lagoon, or rather chain of marshy lakelets, extended for quite
fifty miles, sometimes spreading wide, more often dwindling into little
openings and ponds united by narrow passages with hardly a perceptible
stream. Along this chain the boatmen dexterously sent the little
vessel, sometimes forcing it aground, and often having hard work to get
it through the dense vegetation that rose from the swampy soil.
Two days were spent in getting to the end of the lagoon; and landing
upon an elevated place, they encamped for the night, the doctor chatting
for long enough about the beautiful specimens that they had passed, and
which he had refrained from touching.
"There is a remarkable flora in this region, Chumbley," he said,
enthusiastically.
"I daresay there is," said Chumbley, sleepily; "but your wife doesn't
want us to be taking back a remarkable flora, but a matter-of-fact
Arthur. Go to sleep, man, and let's rest."
The doctor told him he had no soul for science.
"Not a bit, doctor. Good-night;" and the great fellow was asleep in an
instant.
"We are very near the place now," said the guide, as they partook of a
hearty breakfast, Yusuf having speared some of the fish that abounded in
the waters near.
"But we've got to the end of the lake," said the doctor.
"Yes, master; and now we must walk."
The way proved to be a long and toilsome journey, through the stifling
heat of the jungle, which was here tolerably open, and so full of
specimens attractive to the doctor that he fidgeted with disappointment
at having to pass them by. He, however, resolutely refrained from
attempting to collect, and only forfeited one cigar by the time that,
after their weary tramp, gun in hand, the guide pointed to a low
palm-thatched house, within a strong bamboo palisade, which protected a
garden.
"Who'd have thought of finding a house here?" said Chumbley, who began
to think of the Inche Maida's hiding-place, to which this was very
similar. "But where is the pathway?"
"On the other side, master. I brought you all round this way so as not
to alarm the guards. They might have taken their prisoner farther into
the jungle where he could not be found."
A short consultation was held, and then Chumbley's proposal was carried
in opposition to the more timid one of the guide's.
Chumbley's was the very soldier-like one of draw and advance.
This they did, the men with their spears, and Chumbley and the doctor
double gun in hand; and after a little struggle with nothing more
dangerous than canes, they forced their way round to the front of the
place and entered, to find everything just as if it had been inhabited
an hour before, but neither prisoner nor guards were there.
"The birds are flown," said Chumbley, after they had searched the
half-dozen airy rooms that formed the place.
"Yes," said the doctor, "but he has been here. Look!"
He pointed to a couple of long shelves made by placing bamboos together,
and upon them, carefully dried, were hundreds of botanical specimens,
laid as only a botanist would have placed them.
There was the chance of the prisoner returning, but it hardly seemed
probable; and after some hours waiting, it was decided to return to the
boat, to pass the night there, and return the next day.
The tramp back seemed harder than the advance; but they persevered, and
at last, soaked with perspiration and utterly wearied out, they came in
sight of the lagoon head, where Chumbley uttered a sigh of satisfaction.
"I wonder what's for dinner," he said. "Eh?"
He turned sharply, for Yusuf uttered an ejaculation, and stood pointing
to where, seated in an opening and leaning against a tree, was the
figure of a man, ragged, unshorn, and looking the picture of misery.
"Hurrah?" shouted Chumbley, dashing forward, the doctor panting after
him; but the figure did not move, seeming to be asleep with its head
drooped forward upon its breast.
"Rosebury!" cried Chumbley--"Rosebury!" but there was no reply.
"Arthur!" cried the doctor, sinking on one knee beside the haggard,
hollow-cheeked figure, and changing the position so that its head rested
upon his arm.
"Dead?" whispered Chumbley, in awe-stricken tones.
"He would have been in an hour!" cried the doctor. "Quick! your flask.
There, that will do--a few drops with water. That's right. Now soak a
biscuit well. Crumble it up, man--quick, in the cup."
A few drops at a time were poured between the parched lips, and as
Arthur Rosebury showed signs of revival, a little of the soaked biscuit
was administered; while Yusuf and Ismael rapidly cut down grass and
contrived a rough bed, upon which the suffering man was laid.
"Is it fever?" said Chumbley, gazing down at the hollow cheeks and wild,
staring eyes that had not a spark of recognition therein.
"The fever that men have who are starving," cried the doctor. "Poor
fellow! he has not had food for a week."
It was after three days' camping out beside the boat in a rough shanty
which the Malays built up, that the Reverend Arthur Rosebury came round
sufficiently to be able to recognise and talk to his friends.
"It's fortunate for you, old fellow, that you had a doctor to find you,"
said Bolter. "For--I say it without boasting--if I had not been with
Chumbley, you would never have seen Sindang again."
"And shall I now?" was said in a feeble voice.
"To be sure you will, and the sooner the better," said the doctor. "I
want more nourishing food for you, so we'll make up a couch in the stern
of the boat, and then get on towards home."
"I'll try and bear being moved," he said feebly, "but--but--but--"
"But what?" said the doctor, quietly. "There, don't worry. I see. You
have forgotten what you wanted to say. It will come again. Shut your
eyes and go to sleep."
Arthur Rosebury was so pitifully weak that he was ready to obey anybody;
and he sank back and seemed to go to sleep at once with the doctor and
Chumbley seated by his side.
"I want some explanation of all this," said Chumbley, in his drawling
way.
"So do I," said the doctor; "but we must wait, my dear boy. He's as
weak as water, and I can't trouble him with questions. You see, his
brain is affected by his bodily want of tone; but it will soon come
right if we are patient."
It seemed to the chaplain as if he had not been asleep when he awoke
five hours later, and looking at the doctor he went on where he ceased
before dozing off; but this time he did not forget.
"Where is Helen Perowne?" he asked.
"Safe at home," replied the doctor.
"That is well," said the chaplain. "I have been troubled by a dreamy
idea that she was carried off when I was by the Malays, and that I was
kept to marry Helen to someone else."
"What someone else?" said the doctor.
"I fancied it was Murad," said the chaplain, feebly; "but my head _is_
confused and strange. What of Mary?"
"Quite well, and anxious to see you again. There, lie back, and we will
lift you in this waterproof sheet so gently that you will hardly know
you have been moved."
The chaplain lay back, and seemed to drop asleep again as he was lifted
into the boat, which put off at once; and in high spirits with the
successful termination of their quest, the Malays worked well, and sent
the sampan skimming over the still waters of the lagoon.
They did not cease poling and paddling all night, and halted at last to
land, after catching some fish, which, when broiled, made a good
addition to the biscuits and coffee.
The chaplain ate heartily, and seemed to enjoy the warm sunshine as they
went on again over the sparkling waters of the lake. He talked, too,
and asked Chumbley to sit by him, but seemed to have very little memory,
till all at once he cried, in a piteous tone:
"My specimens!--my specimens! We must not leave them behind!"
The doctor took off his hat and rubbed his head, for his feelings were
quite with the chaplain; but to go back and land, and search the house
in the jungle, meant over a day's work, and he said, decidedly:
"No: it is impossible to go now!"
"But they are the work of weeks and months of labour!" protested the
chaplain. "If you had only seen them!"
"My dear Arthur, I have seen them," said the doctor. "They will not
hurt, and as soon as you are well again we will fetch them."
The chaplain sank back in his place with a sigh; and as the journey was
continued he told his friends of his long imprisonment, and of how, as a
resource, he had settled down to botanising.
This had gone on steadily, till about a fortnight back, when he noticed
that his guards were whispering together a good deal, and that evening
he missed them, and no meal was prepared.
The next day no one was visible, and he found what provision there was,
and did the best he could, and so on the next day, when, finding that he
was regularly deserted, he made up his mind to escape, and started off,
following the track that led from the house, to find that it ended by a
little river.
There was no possibility of getting to right or left, to follow the
stream, on account of the jungle, and after a weary day he was glad to
go back to his prison and sleep.
The following days were taken up in efforts to find a path that would
lead to some inhabited place, but the efforts were in vain; and though
he sought constantly, he could not retrace his steps to the house where
he had seen the Malay lady trying to get away. Everywhere it was
jungle--a wilderness of jungle--and the only possibility of escape was
by one of the streams, or by way of the lagoon, which he had discovered
in his botanical wanderings.
He had no boat, nor the ingenuity to contrive one. To have attempted to
wade down a stream meant courting death by the reptiles; so the
chaplain's many wanderings in the wilderness took him over the same
ground day after day, and always back to his prison.
Then the scant supply of provision was exhausted; there was no fruit to
be found; he had no gun, and could contrive no means of capturing fish;
and the result was that, growing weaker day by day, and more helpless,
he realised how safe was the prison in the jungle in which he had been
shut up; and at last sat down, to gradually sink into a stupor, from
which, but for the coming of his friends, he would never have recovered.
Even when he was taken in safety to the landing-stage, he was too feeble
to walk, and fainted as he was carried to his brother-in-law's house.