Murray woke with a start to find that the sun was well above the trees,
and a curious sensation of shame troubled him as he recalled the events
of the previous night.
As he started up, he saw that Mr Braine was seated at his little table
writing, and as the latter noticed his fellow-prisoner's awaking, he
laid down his pen, and held out his hand.
"I was writing a few lines to the doctor," he said. "I daresay they
will take a note for me. I have told him that we are prisoners, to
account to my wife for our absence."
"Tell him--tell them," said Murray, flushing a little, "to be of good
cheer, for we are behaving like prisoners, and watching some means by
which we may all escape from this wretched place."
"And if my letter goes to the rajah first, he may get it interpreted for
him, and know what we intend to do." Murray made an impatient gesture.
"You are right," he said. "My brain is all confused. We cannot escape
without those boys."
"I am as confused as you are," replied Mr Braine. "The rajah has had
those two taken to hold as hostages. I am sorry to give you pain, but
the truth must be told."
"But why--why?"
"Do you need to ask?"
"No," said Murray, despairingly. "I know well enough, and in my selfish
love for her, I am ready to say she must be saved from such a fate."
"And my son condemned to death in company with your brother's child."
Murray sprang up, and began to pace the room, making the floor wave and
the walls quiver with his impetuous tread.
"Tell me what to do," he said at last. "I feel helpless. I will follow
your instructions, and look to you for what is right."
Mr Braine shook his head sorrowfully, finished his letter, and handed
it to Murray to read.
"Yes," he said; "you cannot say more."
The letter was sealed, and the chief of their guards summoned.
"I want this letter taken to the doctor," said Mr Braine.
The man bowed, took the letter, and gave it to one of his men, who went
off directly, while Mr Braine stood back against the wall of the room.
"I thought so," he said. "I am fallen from my high position now."
"What do you mean?" said Murray, eagerly.
"The messenger has gone toward the rajah's place, and not to the
doctor's house."
Breakfast was brought in to them soon afterwards, but Murray turned from
it in disgust.
"Eat, man," said Mr Braine, quietly. "It is a necessity. You may want
all your wits and strength before long."
"I said I would look to you for advice," Murray exclaimed; and he sat
down and ate mechanically, while Mr Braine went on talking.
"If those boys were here," he said; "matters have now arrived at such a
pitch, that I should try and scheme in some way to procure a boat, get
all on board, and make an attempt to start away in the darkness."
"Of course!" cried Murray. "They might not see us, but if they did, we
are skilled in the use of our weapons, and I swear I could bring down
every man at whom I shot."
"Yes," said Mr Braine, thoughtfully; "if driven, we should have to
fight. I might win over three or four or half a dozen of the men to
whom I have been friendly. I think I could. But no. The rajah has
been too cunning for us. He sees that we are likely to try to escape,
and he has us on the hip. Murray, I cannot go and leave my boy to the
mercy of this demon. Mercy? He does not know the word. I should
horrify you, if I told you of all I have been compelled to witness
here."
Murray gazed at him with his brow puckered, and then he suddenly
started.
"I was to go on another expedition to-day; and, good heavens! here comes
the rajah's messenger to say that the elephants are ready. He shall
kill me before I'll stir a step. Stop," he cried excitedly--"the
elephants. I shall be able to take gun, rifle, and revolver. What if I
make the men stop a mile or two away in the jungle path. Could you
contrive to join me with the ladies after dark?"
"And if you could alone over-ride your guard, and I could contrive to
join you with the ladies after dark, where should we go? My dear
fellow, it is madness. Only out into the mountains to starve. We could
not take the ladies, even if we could forsake the boys. Hush! here he
is."
The Tumongong, who had been in close conference with the chief of the
guard below in the garden, now ascended the steps, and saluted the two
prisoners.
"I bring you a message," he said, gravely. "The rajah wishes him to
wait for a few days before going upon his expedition, and he is to
return to his own house. Tell him."
"The rajah sends word that we are to be separated, Murray," said Mr
Braine. "You are to go."
"And if I refuse?"
"There is no appeal, man; force would be used. Go patiently, and
console yourself with the thought that I am working and planning for
you. You must go."
Murray rose and held out his hand.
"Look here," he said; "if they have not taken them, I have plenty of
arms and ammunition there, and I am ready to stand by you to the
death.--Hah!" he ejaculated angrily, as he turned fiercely on the
Tumongong, "you know what I said?"
The Malay looked at him fixedly, but said nothing, and Murray shook
hands with Mr Braine.
"Is this a ruse!" he said, bitterly. "Is it good-bye for ever? Are
they going to make an end of me?"
The Tumongong looked admiringly at the firm manly fellow about to be led
off, for aught he knew, to execution, and he spoke quickly to Mr
Braine.
"The Tumongong bids me tell you that your life is quite safe."
"Hah!" ejaculated Murray; and he gave the Malay a grateful look, and
went down to where his escort was waiting, the chief and half the guard
marching him off back to his house, where at the first glance he saw
that his weapons were still in their places; and here he threw himself
down, to try to hit out some plan, while the Malays stationed themselves
about the place, and he saw that he was to be strictly watched.
Meanwhile the Tumongong and Mr Braine stood gazing hard into each
other's faces.
"Well, what next?" said Mr Braine at last, gazing searchingly into the
Malay's eyes.
"You are to join the doctor and his family, and if you value your life,
help his highness by reasoning with them, so that his wishes may be
obeyed at once."
"He is still set upon this atrocity?"
"Yes; he is determined that the poor lady shall be his wife."
"And if we all refuse and set him at defiance?"
"What good?" said the Tumongong, bitterly.
"I cannot do it, man," cried Mr Braine. "Tell me where are those
boys?"
"I cannot--I do not know."
"But--you have always been my friend--is there no way out of this
difficulty?"
The Tumongong was silent.
"Yes," continued Mr Braine; "there is that way. His death or
imprisonment. Is not the time ripe?"
The Malay made no answer.
"Murray is a strong man, brave as a lion; the doctor, Greig, and I are
good shots. We will fight for you to the death."
"It is time to go," said the Tumongong, coldly; and he walked out into
the veranda, and gave the guard below an order to be in readiness.
"It would be to the death," he said, quietly, as he returned. "No; we
are not strong enough. It is not for want of courage. I could kris
him, but it would be too cowardly. If we fought, it would mean death to
your friends and the boys--the ladies left alone to his mercy. There: I
am your friend. I have trusted you: my life is in your hands."
"It has been for months," said Mr Braine, quietly; "I have known your
secret for long."
"Are you ready?" said the Tumongong, loudly. Then in a low tone--"Bring
your weapons."
Five minutes after, the Resident was being marched to the doctor's,
where his coming was eagerly greeted; and the guard there being
strengthened by the newcomers, the Tumongong looking grave, and then
going slowly off, followed by his attendants.
"Frank? Tell me about Frank," cried Mrs Braine, clinging to her
husband's hand.
"Mr Murray--Ned?" cried Amy, seizing the other.
"All well as yet," said the Resident, sadly.
"This is true?" whispered Mrs Braine. "You are not deceiving me?"
"You know," he replied, gravely; and the ladies shrank away to weep
together, while the doctor offered his old friend his hand.
"Bad news?" whispered the doctor.
"The worst. He insists, and it is to be at once."
"I would sooner kill her," said the doctor, passionately.
"And I would sooner see her dead."
They stood thoughtful and silent for a few minutes before the doctor
spoke again.
"I never felt our helplessness so much before. Where is Murray?"
Mr Braine told him.
"A good man the less, but we might perhaps get a message to him to make
a dash for us here. Braine, will you fight?"
"To the death."
"We shall be four, with the women to load for us as we fire."
"I am ready, man," said Mr Braine, sadly; "and we shall have the
satisfaction of acting as Englishmen in a time of peril, but we can do
no more than keep them at bay for a time. Even if we did that, they
could starve us out."
The doctor let his hands drop helplessly to his side.
"Yes; that's it," he said. "It is madness. It would only mean so much
bloodshed and nothing done."
"He would send every man he had to his death to gain his ends."
"If I had only known--if I had only known!" groaned the doctor; "he
would never have recovered from that last illness, I swear."
"Then you swear falsely," said Mr Braine, holding out his hand. "My
old friend, John Barnes, never did a treacherous act, and never could."
"Hah!" ejaculated the doctor, wringing the Resident's hand. "Now you
disarm me: but a man would do desperate things to save his wife and
child."
"Even to giving his life, as I would mine."
They stood by the door in silence, then gazing out into the garden,
where a spearman stood at the gate, and the rest of the guard sat about
mechanically chewing their betel-nut and sirih-leaf, apparently heedless
of the prisoners' presence, but ready to start into action on the
instant.
Mr Greig joined them, and the day wore on in sorrow and despair, for
their position seemed to be absolutely hopeless, and it was nothing to
them that the sun shone down from the pure blue sky on the gorgeous
vegetation, whose leaves seemed to shed silver beams of light down
amongst the dark shade beneath. Plan after plan was suggested and
referred to the ladies, who also made proposals. But the result was
always the same. They acknowledged that the rajah, with his Eastern
cunning, had checkmated them, and that nothing could be done but wait.
As the day wore on, the doctor's servants went about their work as
usual, and Tim Driscol brought in the mid-day meal, and stood looking on
in despair to find it untouched.
"Oh, Miss Amy, dear," he whispered, "my heart's bruk intirely to see
your pretty eyes all swelled up and red like that. What'll I do,
darlin'? Say the word, and if it's to slay and kill him, I'll go."
"Don't--don't talk to me, Tim," she whispered, with the tears flowing
fast.
"Not talk to ye--me who carried ye when ye were only half the size ye
are! I'll go to the masther, thin."
With the freedom of an old servant, he went out to where the doctor was
seated in the veranda, so as to avoid seeing the sad faces within.
"Oh, masther, dear," he said, "what's to be done?"
"I wish I could tell you, Tim."
"It makes a man's heart sore, sir, to see the misthress and her frinds
looking like that.--Mr Braine, sir, begging your pardon for intrudin',
it's only bekase I want to help. Wouldn't a good fight set it straight,
bekase if so, I'm your man."
"Waste of blood, waste of life, and no good done, Tim," said the
Resident, sadly. "We are in God's hands. I cannot see that we can
stir."
"Four of us and Mister Murray, if we could get at him," mused Tim; "that
makes foive, and they're as many hundreds, and got their prahus and
boats beside; but I don't know. The old counthry looks a very shmall
place on the map, but she could beat the world. Well, the masther has
only got to spake, and I'll foight for me misthress and my young lady as
long as I can lift a fist."
As the evening drew near, Tim comforted himself by examining and loading
the guns and pistols that were in the house, and then replaced them,
ready for use at a moment's notice.
But when he had done, he shook his head sadly.
"It's such a whishp of a place to fight in," he said to himself. "Anny
one could knock it all over wid a scaffold pole. Why, if it kim to a
foight, the bastes could run underneath, and shtick their spears through
the flure. An' I'd like to get one crack at the head of the man I
caught doing it."
The dinner-time came, and Tim made another attempt to get the unhappy
party to eat.
"And not a bit of fruit," he muttered. "Wonder whether they'd let us
get some."
He went and spoke to one of the women who acted as servant, and she
readily agreed to go and fetch what was necessary, catching up the
second sarong worn by the Malay women as a veil, and used with the two
ends of the long scarf-like article of attire sewn together.
With this over her head, she started off, and the guard now looked up
sharply, but they had no orders to interfere and prevent one of the
women from going out, and in less than a quarter of an hour she returned
bearing a basket of mangosteens and bananas.
But it was all labour in vain; the dinner and dessert, so thoughtfully
prepared, remained untouched, and the wine, cool and fresh from the
evaporating it had received, remained on the table.
It was a lovely starlit night, and after Mr Greig had gone, the doctor
and Mr Braine rose from the table to go and walk up and down in the
veranda, and wait for the coming of the next messengers from the rajah,
for that there would soon be another both felt perfectly convinced.
They had not long to wait before the Tumongong appeared with a small
retinue of men, spear-armed as usual, who were halted by their officer
at the foot of the steps, while the Malay chief ascended to the veranda
to announce briefly that the rajah would honour the ladies with a visit
that evening; after which he turned and left the place as he came, the
dark figures of his escort filing out through the bamboo gate, looking
like shadows in the starlight.
"There is only one thing left," said Mr Braine, as the doctor sat too
much stunned by the intelligence, now it had come, to be able to go in
and communicate it to his wife and child.