In a few weeks all thought of considering themselves as prisoners was
forgotten, and Murray and Ned were as busy as it was possible to be in
that hot steamy climate.
There was, however, one point about which Murray made a complaint, and
spoke to Mr Braine upon the subject, and that was the presence of armed
men as guards; for wherever they went, even if it was from one end of
the village to the other, there were these quiet dark sentinels, and so
sure as either Murray or his nephew came to the conclusion that they
were alone, the next moment one of the men would be seen pretty close at
hand.
"Never mind, uncle," Ned said, laughingly; "the sun always shines here,
so one must expect to have shadows."
"But I don't like it, Ned; it worries me," said his uncle; and as stated
he complained to Mr Braine, who promised to speak to the rajah, and two
days later came to the house where its occupants were busy skinning and
drying their specimens.
"The rajah has sent me to ask if he can do anything more for you,
Murray," said their visitor. "He has been saying again that he is
delighted with your discovery of the tin, and that he shall some day set
men to work mining and smelting, but he hopes you will persevere, and
discover a good vein of gold. You are to speak as soon as you are ready
for a long expedition, and the elephants will be brought up."
"Let's go soon, uncle," said Ned. "I want to have an elephant ride."
"Patience, patience, boy. There, that's not such a bad imitation of
life, is it?" said Murray, holding out a beautiful amethystine-looking
kingfisher.
"Capital!" said Mr Braine, smiling at the enthusiasm his new friend
brought to bear in his pursuit.
"Do for us?" said Murray, thoughtfully; "do for us? No, I think not.
He is wonderfully civil; feeds us too well; the attention we get is
excellent, and you people treat us as if we were your brothers."
"You are satisfied, then?" said Mr Braine.
"Yes, I think so; eh, Ned?"
"I am enjoying it thoroughly," replied the latter.
"Oh yes, of course. So long as you can be always off on some prank or
another with Braine's unbroken colt. It suits you, you lazy young dog."
"Oh, uncle, what a shame! Frank and I have brought you in some splendid
specimens."
"Well, pretty tidy; but that rare trogon's tail feathers were wanting in
the three central pens."
"We'll get you another, then," cried Ned.
"You like the place, then?" said Mr Braine.
"Like it, sir! I never imagined being a prisoner was half so good."
"Ah yes--prisoners," said Murray, looking up from his work, which he was
still pursuing in spite of the arrival of his visitor. "Here! hi!
Hamet!"
"Yes, master."
"Go and turn those skins over carefully, and put them out of the sun.
They are drying too fast."
"Yes, master."
"Yes; prisoners," continued Murray. "You did not take my message to the
rajah about those spearmen always following us about."
"I did, and that was my principal reason for coming and interrupting you
this morning."
"Ah!" cried Murray, looking up with an unfortunate bird turned inside
out in one hand, and a brush laden with preserving paste in the other;
"what did he say?"
"That he esteemed the visit and presence of so great a scientific man
too highly to run any risk of his coming to harm. That many of his
people were not so enlightened as those about the court, and were likely
to resent the presence of an Englishman."
"And boy," said Ned in an undertone.
"And boy," said Mr Braine, smiling; "and that he would die of grief if
anything happened to you; whereas, if harm happened when you had your
guard, he could punish them?"
"Poor wretches!" said Murray, brushing away at his bird-skin. "Soft
soap. Gammon, Braine. He is afraid that we shall slip off, eh?"
"Yes; that is the plain English of the matter."
"And the men are to follow us still."
"Yes. You must put up with it."
"Ah, well, the place is so rich that I will not grumble. I must say
that the men are never too attentive, and it would be unpleasant if we
were to be speared and krissed; eh, Ned?"
"And skinned and preserved as specimens of the English for his
highness's museum," said Ned, quietly, as he carefully drew the skin of
a lovely blue and drab thrush over its skull.
"No one to do it," said Mr Braine, laughing.
"Well, I shall not grumble again," continued Murray. "Tell him we'll go
soon right up to the hills through the jungle, and that I'll try and
find him a gold-mine. You were quite right, Braine; we could not have
done better for natural history if we could have gone where we liked."
"I am sure you couldn't."
"Ladies quite well--Mrs Braine and the Barnes's and Greigs?"
"Yes; but complaining that you do not visit us all more often."
"Very good of them, but I must get on with my work."
"And I with mine."
"Oh, don't hurry away. Stop and smoke a cigar. How's that boy of
yours?"
"Quite well, thank you, Mr Murray."
They looked up sharply, and there was Frank standing in the veranda
looking in.
"Hullo! busy, Ned?"
"Yes. Two more birds to do."
"Oh, what a bother! I want you particularly. I say, Mr Murray, why
don't you let Amy Barnes skin these little tiny sun-birds? It wants
some one with pretty little fingers like hers."
"Because, sir, it is not fit work for a lady," replied Murray, shortly.
"Ha, ha! what a game! Why, she asked me to get her a few, and I set
that one-eyed chap to knock some down with a sumpitan--you know, Ned, a
blowpipe, and she has had six these last three days, and skinned them
all beautifully. She gave me one to show me how well she could do it.
Here, where did I stick the thing?"
He began searching his pockets, and ended by dragging out a rough tuft
of glistening metallic feathers, at which he looked down with a comical
expression of countenance.
"A delightful specimen," said Murray, grimly.
"Yes, now. But it was beautiful when she showed it to me. I oughtn't
to have put it in my pocket, I suppose. But, I say, Mr Murray, can't
you spare Ned?"
"What do you want him for, Frank?" said his father.
"To try for that big croc that hangs about the river half-way between
here and the stockade. He has just taken another poor girl, father."
"What!" cried Mr Braine, with a look of horror.
"I only just heard of it. She was reaching over to pick lotus-leaves
close by, where you were so nearly caught, Ned."
"Eh?" cried Murray, looking up sharply. "Oh yes, I remember, and you
are thinking of trying to shoot this monster?"
"No; going to catch him," said Frank.
"You two boys?"
"They will have some of the men to help them," said Mr Braine. "The
brute ought to be destroyed."
"Why don't your rajah do it?"
"Because he does nothing that does not tend toward his pleasure or
prosperity," replied Mr Braine, bitterly. "Have you made any
preparations, Frank?"
"Yes, father; we're all ready. Only waiting for Ned."
He gave the latter a merry look as he spoke.
"Like to go?" said Murray.
"I don't like to leave you so busy, uncle, and seem to neglect preparing
the specimens."
"But that would be getting another specimen," said Frank, merrily. "Mr
Murray may have it when it's caught, mayn't he, father?"
"You go along with you, sir," cried Murray, with mock sternness. "You
are spoiling my boy here. Be off with you, and mind and don't get into
any danger. Here, you Ned, go and wash your fingers well first. Don't
neglect that after using the paste."
Five minutes after, the two lads were off toward the bank of the river
near where the rajah's stockade was situated--a strongly-palisaded place
commanding the river, and within which four of the light brass guns
known as lelahs were mounted. Mere popguns in the eyes of a naval
officer, but big enough, to awe people who traded up and down the river
in boats, and whose one or two pound balls or handfuls of rough shot and
rugged scraps of iron and nails were awkward enemies for the slight
timbers of a good-sized prahu.
"There will not be any danger for the boys, eh?" said Murray, looking up
at where Mr Braine stood thoughtfully smoking his cigar.
"Oh no; they will have quite a little party of active men with them,
ready to despatch the brute with their spears if they are lucky enough
to catch him; but that is very doubtful."
He relapsed into silence, and Murray went on busily with his work, for
he had had a successful shooting trip on the previous afternoon, and was
trying to make up for it before his specimens decayed, as they did
rapidly in that hot climate. He was so intent upon his task as he sat
at the rough bamboo work-table he had rigged up, that for a time he
forgot the presence of his silent visitor, till, looking up suddenly he
saw that Mr Braine was gazing thoughtfully before him in a rapt and
dreamy way.
"Anything the matter?" he said.
Mr Braine started, looked at his cigar, which was out, and proceeded to
relight it.
"No--yes," he said slowly; "I was thinking."
"What about? No, no. I beg pardon. Like my impudence to ask you."
"No. It is quite right," said Mr Braine, slowly, and with his brow
knit. "You are one of us now, and in a little knot of English people
situated as we are, there ought to be full confidence and
good-fellowship so that we could help each other in distress."
"Yes, of course," said Murray, laying down his work. "But, my dear
fellow, don't be so mysterious. You are in trouble. What is wrong?"
Mr Braine walked to the door to see that Hamet was out of hearing, and
then returning, he said in a low voice: "Look here, Murray; it is of no
use to mince matters; we are all prisoners here, at the mercy of as
scoundrelly a tyrant as ever had power to make himself a scourge to the
district round."
"Well, it is as well to call a spade a spade," said Murray.
"Both Barnes and I were doing badly, and we were tempted by the offers
we received from the rajah, and certainly I must own that, from a
worldly point of view, we have both prospered far better here than we
could have done in an English settlement. But we are not free agents.
We never know what mine may be sprung upon us, nor how the chief people
among the rajah's followers may be affected toward us through petty
jealousies."
"I see--I see," said Murray.
"So far we have got on well. For years and years Barnes, who is very
clever in his profession, has made himself indispensable to the rajah,
and has also gained some very good friends by the way in which he has
treated different chiefs and their families in serious illnesses, and
for accidents and wounds. While on my part, though mine is a less
satisfactory position, I have by firmness and strict justice gained the
respect of the rajah's fighting men, whom I have drilled to a fair state
of perfection, and the friendship of the various chiefs by acting like
an honourable Englishman, and regardless of my own safety, interceding
for them when they have offended their master, so that now they always
come to me as their counsellor and friend, and I am the only man here
who dares to tell the tyrant he is unjust."
"I see your position exactly," said Murray; "but what is behind all
this. What is wrong?"
"Perhaps nothing--imagination, may be, and I don't know that I should
have spoken to you yet, if it had not been for an admission--I should
say a remark, made by my son just now."
"I do not understand you. What did he say?"
"That Miss Barnes--Amy--had been devoting herself to the preparation of
some of the tiny gems of our forests."
"Yes, yes, and very strange behaviour on the part of a young lady too."
"I do not see it," said the Resident, gravely. "She is a very sweet,
true-hearted, handsome womanly girl. Let me see: she is past one and
twenty now, and has always displayed a great liking for natural
history."
"Yes, of course," said Murray, hurriedly. "The collection of
butterflies and beetles she showed me is most creditable."
"And it is only natural that, situated as she is, a prisoner in these
wilds, she should be much attracted by the companionship of a gentleman
of similar tastes, and of wide experience and knowledge."
"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" said Murray, fidgeting. "She has been very
patient and kind of an evening in listening to me, though I am afraid I
have often bored her terribly with my long-winded twaddle about
ornithology and botany."
"I can vouch for it you have not, and also that you have caused great
disappointment when you have not come and joined us."
"Oh, fancy, my dear sir," said Murray, tugging at his great brown beard,
and colouring like a girl; "your imagination."
"It is her father's, her mother's, the Greigs' and my wife's imagination
too; and this experiment of hers--commenced directly after you had been
telling us all how difficult you found it with your big fingers to
manipulate the tiny sun-birds--confirms what we thought."
"My dear sir, what nonsense!" cried Murray, sweeping a bird-skin off the
table in his confusion, as he snatched up his pipe, lit it, and began to
smoke. "I talked like that because I wanted that idle young scamp, Ned,
to devote his fingers to the task. I had not the most remote idea that
it would make a young lady commence such an uncongenial pursuit."
"Straws show which way the wind blows."
"Look here, sir," cried Murray, jumping up, and making the bamboo floor
creak as he strode up and down. "I am not such a fool or so blind as
not to comprehend what you mean. Miss Amy Barnes is a very sweet,
amiable young lady."
"Far more so than you think," said Mr Braine, warmly. "She is a good
daughter--a dear girl, whom I love as well as if she were my own child.
I shall never forget the way in which she devoted herself to my boy when
he came out here, still weak, and a perfect skeleton, and it is my
tender affection for the girl that makes me speak as I do."
"Then, then--oh, I am very sorry--very sorry indeed," cried Murray. "I
wish to goodness I had never come. It is nonsense, madness, impossible.
I am nearly forty--that is over four and thirty. I am a confirmed
bachelor, and I would not be so idiotically conceited as to imagine,
sir, that the young lady could have even a passing fancy for such a
dry-as-dust student as myself. I tell you honestly, sir, I have never
once spoken to the lady but as a gentleman, a slight friend of her
father, would."
"My dear Murray, we have only known you a few weeks, but that has been
long enough to make us esteem and trust--"
"Exactly; and it is preposterous."
"That means, you could never care for the lady well enough to ask her to
be your wife?"
"Never--certainly--never--impossible--that is--at least--no, no, no,
quite impossible. I am a bookworm, a naturalist, and I shall never
marry."
"I am sorry," said Mr Braine, thoughtfully, "for, to be frank, I rather
thought there was a growing liking on your part for Amy."
"A mistake, sir--a mistake, quite," said Murray, warmly.
"And it would have been a happy circumstance for us now, at this rather
troublesome time."
"Eh? Troublesome? What do you mean? Is anything more the matter?"
"Yes," said Mr Braine, with his brow full of lines. "I may be wrong--
we may be wrong. We have dreaded something of the kind might happen,
but years have gone on, and we have had no occasion to think anything
serious till now."
"You startle me. What do you mean?" said Murray, excitedly.
"Well, you see the rajah is a Mussulman."
"Yes, of course. Allah, Mahomet, and so on."
"He has several wives."
"Yes, whom he keeps shut up like birds in a cage. Well, what of that?"
"Last night we were all very much disturbed. It was before you came
in."
"Ah! Yes, I noticed you were all very quiet. Why was it?"
"The rajah had sent Amy a present. It was a magnificent specimen of
goldsmith's work--a large bangle of great value."
"Well?"
"Gentlemen, especially eastern gentlemen, do not send such presents as
that to ladies without having some ulterior object in view."
"What!" roared Murray, in so fierce a tone of voice that Hamet came
running in.
"Master call?"
"No, no: go away. Nothing.--Here Braine, you horrify me. That old
tyrant dare to--to think--to send her presents--to--oh, it is horrible.
The old scoundrel! He to presume to--oh!"
"We may be mistaken. It may be only a compliment."
"Nothing of the sort, sir. He meant an offer of marriage, which is sure
to follow, and--oh, the insolent, tyrannical, old scoundrel!"
Mr Braine looked at Murray with a grave smile.
"This indignation's all real?" he said.
"Real? I could go and horsewhip him."
"Then you do care for Amy Barnes, in spite of your short acquaintance,
Murray; and I tell you frankly I am very glad, for it may put a stop to
a terrible complication, which might have risked all our lives."
Murray's face was scarlet, and he stood looking at his visitor without a
word, for in his heart of hearts he owned that he was right, and that
out there, in those wild jungles, he, Johnstone Murray, naturalist, who
had never thought of such a thing before, had found his fate.
"Yes," said Mr Braine again, thoughtfully, "a serious complication,
which might have risked all our lives."