"Ned," said Mr Murray, as they reached the doctor's, "run and tell the
boatmen we are going to stay," and Ned started off.
The boatmen did not seem in the least degree surprised upon Ned
announcing to them that they were to stay for the present. "It is
kismet--fate," said Hamet, calmly.
"I could have told ye that before," said a voice; and, looking up, Ned
saw the good-humoured sun-browned face of the Irishman just projecting
over the edge of the bamboo jetty, where he lay upon his chest smoking a
pipe.
"Hullo! I'd forgotten you," said Ned, who had come down very thoughtful
and dull.
"Faix, and I hadn't forgotten you. Didn't ye tell me to mind your duds
and things in the boat, sor?"
"They did; I didn't. I say, if you knew that we should stay, why didn't
you--But never mind."
The man gave him a droll look.
"There ye needn't mind spaking out," he said. "I know. The old 'un
won't let ye go away again."
"You know him?" said Ned excitedly.
"Av course I do. He niver lets any one go that he wants to stay."
"Then why didn't you, an Englishman--Irishman, I mean--"
"That's better, sor, though any one would hardly know me for an Irishman
by my spache. Sure there are times when I haven't a bit of brogue left.
It's the sun dhries it out of me, I think."
"But why didn't you warn us?"
"Because there'd a been a regular shaloo if I had. The other gintleman
would have told your men here to pull away, and the dhragon boat would
have been afther ye shying shpears, and you'd have been shuting, and the
end would have been that ye'd been hurt; and think o' that now."
"But we should have rowed right away."
"Divil a bit. They'd soon have caught ye or been firing their brass
lalys at yez."
"What's a brass laly?" said Ned.
"Get out wid ye, sor: poking fun at me. Who said a wurrud about lalys?
I said lalys."
"Well, so did I."
"Not a bit of it; ye said lalys."
"So did you."
"Not I. I said laly."
"Spell it then."
"Is it shpell it. Well then, l-e-l-a-h, laly. It's a big brass
blunderbush thing on a shwivel. There's two of 'em on each of their
prahus, and they send a ball about two pound-weight sometimes, and other
times a couple o' handfuls of old bits o' broken iron, and nubbles o'
tin, and shtones. Annythin whin they're spiteful."
"But do you mean to say they'd have dared to fire at a boat with two
Englishmen in it--I mean a man and a boy?" cried Ned, flushing.
"Oh, don't go aiting yer wurruds like that, lad. Shure ye've got the
sperret of a man in ye, if ye're not shix feet high. An' is it fire at
a boat with Englishmen in it? Why, I belave they'd shute at one with
Irishmen in, and I can't say more than that."
"Then we've rowed right into a nest of Malay pirates?"
"Oh no. You people at home might call 'em so, perhaps, but the old un's
jist a rale Malay gintleman--a rajah as lives here in his own country,
and takes toll of iverything that goes up and down. Sure, we do it at
home; only gintalely, and call it taxes and rates and customs. And
they've got customs of the country here."
"But, I say," said Ned, as he found that he was getting a deeper insight
into their position, "the rajah will soon let us go?"
"Will he?"
"Come, answer me. How long will he want us to stay?"
"Oh, for iver, I should say, or as much of it as ye can conthrive to
live."
"You're making fun of me," said Ned, frowning. "But look here; you are
not prisoners."
"Prishoners? No. Isn't the masther the rajah's owen chief docthor, and
Mr Braine his prime-minister, field-marshal, and commander-in-chief."
"Then you people could go when you liked?"
"Oh no. Divil a bit. The old un's so fond of us, he won't let us
shtir, and he always sends four dark gintlemen wid shpears if I think
I'd like to go for a walk."
"Then you are all prisoners?"
"Don't I tell ye no, sor. They don't call it by that name, but we can't
go away."
"Oh, but this is abominable!" cried Ned, looking in the dry, humorous
face before him.
"Ye'll soon get used to it, sor. But just a frindly wurrud. I'd be
civil, for they've an ugly way of handling things here, being
savage-like. There isn't a wan among 'em as knows the vartue of a bit
o' blackthorn, but they handle their shpears dangerously, and ivery
man's got his nasty ugly skewer in his belt--you know, his kris--and
it's out wid it, and ructions before ye know where ye are."
"Yes; I saw that every man had his kris," said Ned, thoughtfully. "But
can you stay and look after the boat?"
"Didn't the masther say I was to. But nobody would dare to touch a
thing here. Here he is."
Ned turned sharply, and saw a little party approaching, consisting of
Mr Braine, the doctor, and Murray, with the Tumongong at their side.
"Tim," said the doctor, "you can superintend here. The men are to carry
everything in the boat up to the house next but one to ours."
"The one close to the trees, sor?"
"Yes. You will not want any other help. But mind that the boat is
properly made fast."
"Shall I stay too, uncle?" asked Ned.
"No; come with me, and let's see our new quarters."
They were in the act of starting when the Malay chief by their side held
up his hand to arrest them, looking along the river with eager eyes,
where a boat, similar to the one which had first come alongside their
own, could be seen approaching fast, half filled with men, eight of whom
were working vigorously at the oars, while half a dozen more sat beneath
the awning, with the blades of their spears thrust out at the sides, and
glittering in the sun.
"Have they got him, I wonder?" said the doctor half aloud.
"Got whom?" asked Murray.
"A Malay who offended the rajah by a serious breach, and broke out of
his prison about five days ago." He added a few words in the Malayan
tongue to the Tumongong, who responded.
"Yes, they've got the poor wretch," said the doctor. "Well, he was a
bad scoundrel. Let's stop and see them land."
The second dragon boat was rowed quickly up to the jetty, the oars laid
in, and the armed men landed, and stood ready while the rowers lifted
out a savagely defiant-looking man, whose wrists and ankles were heavily
chained. Then a couple of more showily-dressed Malays stepped out, a
little procession was formed, and the prisoner was then led, with his
chains clanking and dragging in the dust, away toward the rajah's
residence, the Tumongong talking rapidly to the fresh comers for a few
minutes, and then rejoining the Englishmen to walk with them to the
neat-looking house set apart for the enforced visitors.
They went up the steps, to find the place light, cool, and rather dark,
coming as they did out of the glare of the sun; but as their eyes grew
accustomed to the gloom, it was to see that the place was neatly covered
with matting, and that there was a darker inner room with more mats,
evidently intended for sleeping.
"I should hardly have expected that you had houses to let," said Murray,
who, now that their position was unavoidable, seemed bent on removing
any bad impression made by his rather warm display of temper.
"We have none," said the doctor. "This is the house of one of the minor
chiefs, and he has been sent elsewhere."
"But really--I would rather--oh, we can make shift in a humbler place
than this."
"It is the rajah's orders that you should come here, and we are all
bound to obey him."
"Oh, very well. Then we will obey," said Murray. "Look, Ned, here are
our traps already. But one moment, Doctor Braine, are our men to stay
here too?"
The doctor turned to the chief, who said quietly: "The man who is their
servant is to stay. The others will have a house to themselves."
The next hour was spent in arranging their boxes and arms, Hamet
assisting and calmly taking to his new quarters, as if nothing in nature
could surprise him, and when all was done, Ned looked round eagerly.
"Come, uncle," he said; "it isn't such a bad place after all."
"No; far better than I expected, but it wants one thing."
"What's that, uncle?"
"Liberty to do what we like, boy. If we had that, we could congratulate
ourselves."
"Well, try and think that you really have it," said the doctor. "There
now, what do you say to coming up to my place to rest till dinner-time?
Braine has promised to come."
Murray hesitated, but the doctor would take no denial, and leaving Hamet
in charge of the place, they descended to find that the Tumongong, who
had left them for a time, was again back, in company with the other
officer.
These made a communication to the doctor, who nodded, and the two
officers then bowed gravely, and went away.
"Message for you," said the doctor. "You are requested--"
"Ordered," said Murray, drily.
"Well, ordered, not to leave the village without asking permission, so
that you may have an escort; but you are quite at liberty to go anywhere
you please about the place."
"Ah, well," said Murray, "I am not going to complain any more to-day. I
have made myself a nuisance enough. Hallo, Ned, here comes your saucy
young Malay friend."
Ned looked sharply round, the doctor having stepped forward hurriedly to
speak to one of the Malays seated on the steps of his house, and there,
sure enough, was the gaily-dressed lad they had seen that morning,
followed by his companion of the boat carrying a basket and the rod the
first had used.
They saw them pass on, to be hidden directly by the trees, and they were
still watching the place when the doctor returned.
"Sorry to have left you," he said. "One of my patients--he was mauled
badly in a tiger-hunt, but he is coming round nicely now."
Ned pricked up his ears at the words tiger-hunt, and feeling more
satisfied now with his new quarters, he followed the doctor into his
garden, and then up the broad steps to the shady verandah, where a
pleasant evening was spent, the dinner capitally served, Tim Driscol,
now very neatly attired in white, waiting at table, and giving the scene
quite a flavour of home. Then there were cigars and excellent coffee
for the gentlemen, and a delightful long chat with the ladies beneath
the shaded lamp which hung from one of the bamboo rafters, the doctor's
daughter readily answering Ned's questions about their life and the
natural history of the place. Of the former, he learned that the doctor
had been persuaded while at Malacca to accept the post through the
Tumongong, who was there on some kind of embassy. The terms had been
tempting, and it had been arranged that he was to take his wife and
daughter with him, all hesitation vanishing when the Malay chief
introduced him to Mr Braine, who accepted his post directly he found
that he would have the society of an Englishman, and in the end he too
had brought his family. Their reception had been most cordial, and they
had only to ask for any addition to their comfort to have it instantly
granted by the rajah. He would give them everything, in fact, but
liberty.
"Then you are quite prisoners too?" said Ned, who had listened to all
this with the greatest of interest.
"I suppose so. Both papa and Mr Braine were furious at first, and said
that they would never forgive the Tumongong for having tricked them, but
he said it was the rajah's orders, and that he dared not have come back
without a doctor, and an officer who could drill the men. And really he
was so kind, and has always been such a good friend when the rajah has
been in one of his mad fits, that we have all ended by liking him."
"But to be prisoners like this!" said Ned.
"Oh, we seldom think about it now. Papa says we shall never be so well
off again, and the rajah, who nearly kills himself with indulgence, has
such bad health that he can hardly bear to see the doctor out of his
sight, and consequently papa has immense influence over him."
"But I could never settle down to being a prisoner," cried Ned.
"Till you grow used to it. Oh, don't mind; it is a whim of the rajah's,
and you will soon have leave to go. We never shall. There, hark! what
did I say?"
She held up her hand, and Ned leaned forward, peering out into the
darkness as the low distant cry of a wild beast was heard.
"Is that a tiger?"
"Yes, and it is so common that we scarcely notice it now. They never
come into the village; but of course it would be terribly dangerous
anywhere beyond the houses."
Ned still leaned forward listening, as the cry was repeated, and then,
in a low voice, he said: "Look, just where the light of the lamp shines
faintly, I thought I saw the gleam of a spear. Can you see it?"
"Oh yes! two--three," replied the girl, quickly. "There are more."
"But what are armed men doing there?"
"Don't you know?"
"No."
"They are your guard. But you need not take any notice of them. Of
course they will follow you about, and keep watch over your house, but
they will never speak to you, or seem watching, unless you are straying
too far."
"This is pleasant," said Ned, wiping his forehead.
"Oh, you will not mind after a day or two, and it is best: for it really
is dangerous for an Englishman to be up here unless he is under the
protection of the rajah."
The pleasant evening came to a close, and after a friendly parting from
their hosts, the two fresh additions to the rajah's village walked back,
Ned declaring that he could easily make out their house, and they
smiled, passed out of the gate, and without catching a glimpse of either
of the Malays on guard, they reached their own abode, where a shaded
lamp was forming an attraction to the insects of the jungle, and Hamet
was patiently awaiting their return.
"What a strange experience, Ned," said Murray, as they stood at the top
of their steps, watching the bright stars and the fireflies which were
gliding about among the low growth at the edge of the jungle, of which
they caught a glimpse hard by.
"But it is very beautiful and soft," said Ned, thoughtfully. "What a
lovely night!"
"Yes; not much like being in prison, is it?"
"No," said Ned; but, as he gazed, he could see the shadowy form of one
of the guards, a fact which he did not mention, though the fact of the
proximity of armed men seemed strange in connection with his uncle's
next words.
"We will not tug at the tether for a few days or weeks, Ned," he said.
"I daresay we shall get some rare collecting, and when we are tired,
we'll slip down to the boat some night and get right away. Hamet, I
daresay, could manage that."
"He would do his best, sir," said the Malay, gravely.
"Then now for a good comfortable snooze on those clean mats, for I'm
tired out. Come along, Ned. Good-night, Hamet. Where do you sleep?"
"Across the door, sahib," said the man, who bore the lamp into the
sleeping chamber, and then stretched himself across the entrance.
"You can sleep too, Ned," said Murray, yawning as he threw himself on
his simple couch.
"No, uncle," said Ned. "I am going to lie and think a bit."
"Bah! Sleep, boy. It is only a bit of an adventure after all.
Heigho-ha-hum! Good-night."
"Good-night, uncle," said Ned, as he too lay down, hearing the distant
cry of a tiger through the mat-screened door; and then he began thinking
about the adventures of the past day, and how strange their position
was.
Only began: for in spite of tigers, mosquitoes, and the fact that
fierce-looking Malay spearmen were about the place, Ned's waking moments
were moments indeed, and only few. Certainly not a minute had elapsed
before he was fast asleep.