"Ahoy, there! All on board?"
"Yes; all right."
"Got all your tackle?"
"I think so."
"Haven't forgotten your cartridges!"
"No; here they are."
"I'll be bound to say you've forgotten something. Yes: fishing-tackle?"
"That we haven't, Mr Wilson," said a fresh voice, that of a
bright-looking lad of sixteen, as he rose up in the long boat lying by
the bamboo-made wharf at Dindong, the little trading port at the mouth
of the Salan River, on the west coast of the Malay Peninsula.
"Trust you for the fish-hooks, squire," said the first speaker. "But, I
say, take a good look round, Murray. It's an awful fix to be in to find
yourself right up in the wilderness with the very thing you want most
left behind."
"It's very good of you, Wilson," said the gentleman addressed, a
broad-shouldered man of forty, tanned and freckled by the eastern sun,
and stooping low to avoid striking his head against the attap thatch
rigged up over the stern of the boat, and giving it the aspect of a
floating hut. "It's very good of you, but I think we have everything;
eh, Ned?"
"Yes, uncle; I can't think of anything else."
"Knives, medicine, sticking-plaster, brandy, boxes, spirit-can, lamp,
nets. Ah, I know, Ned: we've no needles and thread."
The lad laughed merrily, and took out a kind of pocket-book, which he
opened to display the above necessaries, with scissors and penknife as
well.
"Well done, Ned! I believe you have more brains than I have. I can't
think of anything else, Wilson. I only want your good wishes."
"Matches?" said the gentleman on the wharf.
"Plenty, and we have each a burning-glass."
"That's right, and now once more: take my advice."
Johnstone Murray, enthusiast over matters of natural history, shook his
head, and rather a stern look came into his eyes as his nephew watched
him eagerly.
"But, hang it, man! you can make excursions up and down the river from
Dindong, and up the little branches as well. Surely you can get all you
want from here, and not lose touch of civilisation."
"But we want to lose touch of civilisation, my dear fellow.--What do you
say, Ned? Shall we stop here?"
"No, no, uncle; let's go now."
"Why, you foolish boy!" cried the gentleman addressed as Wilson, "you do
not know what you are saying, or what risks you are going to run."
"Oh, uncle will be careful, sir."
"If he can," said the other, gruffly. "I believe you two think you are
going on quite a picnic, instead of what must be a dangerous
expedition."
"My dear Wilson," said the principal occupant of the boat, merrily, "you
shut yourself up so much in your bungalow, and lead such a serious
plodding life over your merchandise and cargoes, that you see danger in
a paddle across the river."
"Ah, well, perhaps I do," said the merchant, taking off his light pith
sun-hat to wipe his shining brow. "You really mean to go right up the
river, then?"
"Of course. What did you think I made these preparations for?"
"To make a few short expeditions, and come back to me to sleep and feed.
Well, if you will go, good-luck go with you. I don't think I can do
any more for you. I believe you may trust those fellows," he added in a
low voice, after a glance at the four bronzed-looking strong-armed Malay
boatmen, each with a scarlet handkerchief bound about his black hair as
he sat listlessly in the boat, his lids nearly drawn over his brown
lurid-looking eyes, and his thick lips more protruded than was natural,
as he seemed to have turned himself into an ox-like animal and to be
chewing his cud.
"You could not have done more for me, Wilson, if I had been your
brother."
"All Englishmen and Scotsmen are brothers out in a place like this,"
said the merchant, warmly. "Go rather hard with some of us if we did
not stick to that creed. Well, look here, if ever you get into any
scrape up yonder, send down a message to me at once."
"To say, for instance, that a tiger has walked off with Ned here."
"Oh I say, uncle!" cried the boy.
"No, no, I mean with the niggers. They're a rum lot, some of them.
Trust them as far as you can see them. Be firm. They're cunning; but
just like children in some things."
"They're right enough, man, if you don't tread on their corns. I always
find them civil enough to me. But if we do get into trouble, what shall
you do?"
"Send you help of course, somehow. But you will not be able to send a
letter," added the merchant thoughtfully. "Look here. If you are in
trouble from sickness, or hurt by any wild animal, get some Malay fellow
from one of the campongs to bring down a handkerchief--a white one. But
if you are in peril from the people up yonder, send a red one, either
your own or one of the boatmen's. You will find it easy to get a red
rag of some sort."
"I see," said Murray, smiling. "White, sickness; red, bloodshed.--I say
Ned, hear all this?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Well; don't you feel scared?"
"Horribly, uncle," said the boy, coolly.
"Will you give up, and stop here in Dindong?"
The boy looked full in the speaker's face, thrust his hands into the
pockets of his brown linen trousers, and began to whistle softly.
"There, good-bye, Wilson. The sun will soon be overpowering, and I want
to get on."
"Well, you've got the tide to help you for the next three hours. Sorry
you're going. I'll take great care of the specimens you send down. You
can trust any of the boat-people--they know me so well. Any fellow
coming down with rice or tin will bring a box or basket. God bless you
both! Good-bye!"
There was a warm hand-shaking.
"Take care of yourself, Ned, my boy, and don't let your uncle work you
too hard.--Good-bye, my lads. Take great care of the sahibs."
The Malay boatmen seemed to have suddenly wakened up, and they sprang to
their places, responded with a grave smile to the merchant's adjuration,
pushed off the boat, and in a few minutes were rowing easily out into
the full tide, whose muddy waters flowed like so much oil up past the
little settlement, upon whose wharf the white figure of the merchant
could be seen in the brilliant sunshine waving his hand. Then, as the
occupants of the boat sat in the shade of their palm-leaf awning, they
saw a faint blue smoke arise, as he lit a cigar and stood watching the
retiring party. The house, huts, and stores about the little wharf
began to grow distant and look toy-like, the shores to display the dull,
green fringe of mangrove, with its curiously-arched roots joining
together where the stem shot up, and beneath which the muddy water
glided, whispering and lapping. And then the oars creaked faintly, as
the boat was urged more and more out into mid-stream, till the shore was
a quarter of a mile away; and at last the silence was broken by the boy,
whose face was flushed with excitement, as he stood gazing up the smooth
river, while they glided on and on through what seemed to be one
interminable winding grove of dull-green trees; for he made the calm,
grave, dark-skinned boatmen start and look round for danger, as he cried
out excitedly:
"Hurrah! Off at last!"