"What'll I do? What'll I do?" muttered Tim Driscol to himself as he
walked up and down one of the garden paths hidden from his master and
his friends, and unheeded by the Malay guard, who contented themselves
with seeing that he did not pass out of the gate.
"That pretty colleen! Ow, the covetous owld rip, and him wid a dozen
wives at laste, to want our darlin'. What'll I do?--what'll I do?
Faix, I'll have me poipe."
He filled the rough bamboo affair with the coarse native tobacco he
used, and went on smoking, the bowl glowing as if a ruddy firefly were
gliding up and down the garden walk. "Ow, sorrow to uz all!" he
muttered. "An' what are all his wives about? Why, they can't have a
taste o' sperrit in 'em, or they wouldn't shtand it. Why, if they were
ladies from the ould country, and he even thought of taking another,
there wouldn't be a bit of hair left on his wicked head. Oh dear!
sorrow to me, what'll I do at all, at all?--Who's this. To see wan of
the women, I suppose."
He was near the gate where two spearmen stood, and in the full starlight
he saw a Malay woman coming up, and as she drew near, she raised her
hands beneath the veil-like sarong she wore over her head to a level
with her brows, spreading out the plaided silk after the custom of the
women, so that the top and bottom hems were drawn parallel, covering her
face and forming a narrow horizontal slit through which her eyes alone
were seen.
"Yah! Get out. How modest we are. Sure, and ye're an ugly flat-nosed
coffee-coloured one, or ye wouldn't be so moighty particular. Want to
see one of the women folk, do ye? Well, the gyards'll shtop ye, and
send ye about yer bishness, and good-luck to ye."
But the guards did not stop her as she walked quietly up. A woman
coming to the doctor's house, that was all; and she passed between them
with her face covered, and turned off into the narrow path among the
trees leading to the servants' quarters, the men just glancing after
her, and then chewing away at their betel.
The consequence was that the next minute the woman was face to face with
Tim, who blocked the way in a surly fashion; and as they stood there in
the shadowy path, Tim's pipe bowl glowed, and the eyes seen through the
narrow slit gleamed.
"And what do you want?" said Tim, in the Malay tongue.
"Muhdra," was the reply, in a faint voice.
"She's yonder," said Tim. "I daresay you know the way."
"Show me," said the woman softly.
"Oh, bad luck to ye to want to come chattering haythen nonsense to the
cook, wid all this trouble on the way," he said angrily, in his own
tongue. Then more civilly in Malay, "Come along, then."
He led the way, and the woman followed till they had passed another
sentry, when he felt his arm gripped.
"Don't flinch--don't speak. Tim, don't you know me?"
"Masther Frank! Oh murther!"
The man staggered in his surprise as he uttered these words, but the
quick Irish wit grasped the situation directly, and he said aloud in the
Malay tongue something about its being a fine warm night, and then led
the way into the dark room he called his pantry, though it was little
more than a bamboo shed, and excitedly clasped the boy to his breast.
"Masther Frank, darlin'! Oh, Heaven be thanked for this!--Ah, ye wicked
young rip, to frighten us all as ye did."
"Hush, man, silence! Don't, Tim. Why--my face is all wet."
"Whisht! nonsense, boy. That's nawthing. Only a dhrop o' water. It's
so hot. But quick! An' good-luck to ye for a cliver one. To desave us
all like that!"
"Where is my father? He was not at home."
"Faix no; he's up-stairs. But where have ye been?"
"Don't ask questions. Are they all right?"
"Oh yes, all right; and all wrong too. There's me news, boy. The
rajah's going to marry Miss Amy, and we're all prishners."
"I thought so," whispered Frank. "But prisoners?"
"Oh yes; ye saw the gyards."
"Where is Mr Murray?"
"Shut up at home wid sax or eight min to take care of him."
"Go and tell my father I'm here. No; take me up to them at once."
"Oh, murther! no, Masther Frank! Don't think of it, boy. Iv ye go up,
the ladies'll all shquale out, and yer mother go wild wid sterricks.
Sure an' Masther Bang-gong's just been to say the owld chap's coming to
see the ladies to-night."
"Oh!" ejaculated Frank.
"But where have ye been, lad?"
"Go quite quietly, and tell my father or the doctor I'm here."
"Yis."
"And Tim, have you got anything to eat? I'm starving."
"Lashins, me dare boy. Help yerself, for the sorrow a taste would they
take in the parlour."
Tim hurried up, passed through the main room, listened for a moment or
two to the murmur of the ladies' voices in one of the inner places, and
then crept out into the veranda, carrying a tray with a metal bottle and
two cups, which he made to jingle loudly for the guard to hear.
"No, no, my man," said the doctor. "It's very thoughtful of you, but
no.--Braine, will you?"
"No, no," said the Resident; and then he uttered a gasp, for Tim's lips
were at his ear, as he stood behind his seat, and said softly:
"Whisht, Mr Braine, darlin': don't make a hurroo. Masther Frank's
come, and he's below."
There was a dead silence for a few moments, and then Mr Braine said in
a forced voice:
"No, no drink, Tim.--Doctor, come in and give me a cigar."
He rose, and walked quietly in with the slow careful acting of one who
knows that his every action is watched, and, wondering at his friend's
change, the doctor rose and followed.
"Get the cigars and matches," said Mr Braine, quietly; and then in a
quick whisper: "Be firm, man, and act. Light a cigar. Frank has come
back."
"Thank God!" muttered the doctor, and he pressed his friend's hand
before getting cigars and matches, and they stood where those in the
garden could see, striking a match, and holding it between them as they
lit their cigars--great coarsely-made ones of the native tobacco.
"Now, Tim, where?" said Mr Braine.
"In my room, shure, sor."
"Sit down there and smoke," said Mr Braine, in a low tone. "Take both
cigars, man, and keep them alight, changing your position as you change
the cigars."
"And desave the haythens. Yes, sor, I undherstand," said Tim, taking
the cigars as the gentlemen prepared to descend, "and a moighty plisant
way of desaving 'em," he muttered to himself, as he began smoking away;
while the next minute Frank was in his father's arms, hurriedly telling
him of his adventures.
"And when we heard the naga coming up the river before daybreak, we
pulled in under the trees and bushes, just below the stockade," he said
in conclusion, "and there we've been all day, not daring to stir, and
even when it was dark we were afraid to move, till I thought of putting
a sarong over my head, and coming like this. I passed lots, and no one
spoke to me."
"And the boat?"
"Safe under the trees with Ned and Hamet."
"Is it big enough to hold us all?" said Mr Braine.
"Plenty."
"Heaven has sent us help!" said Mr Braine fervently. "Barnes, we must
by some means get all on board to-night, and trust to the darkness to
run down the river."
"But the rajah's visit?" said the doctor.
"Ah! I had forgotten that," said Mr Braine, with a groan; "the rajah
and our guards; but with help and ease of mind coming like this, we must
not despair. Now, doctor, go back up-stairs. One moment--your
women-servants?"
"They are to be trusted."
"Then go and set my wife's mind at rest. Tell her our lives depend upon
her being calm. There must be no excitement, or we shall excite
suspicion. Implore your wife and child to be careful."
"And Murray and Mr Greig's?"
"Another obstacle?" exclaimed Mr Braine. "Never mind; one thing at a
time. We may get the women to the boat, then we might drop down
opposite to Murray's place and cut him out. But we shall see. Go on,
and in a minute or two I'll bring up Frank."
The doctor went up, passed Tim, who was carefully keeping his two points
of light glowing at a distance from each other, and communicated his
tidings to the ladies, with the effect that Mrs Braine fainted dead
away, but to recover directly, and eagerly whisper that she would be
firm and not make a sound.
She kept her word, weeping silently over her son, while Mrs Barnes and
Amy both clung to the lad's hands, in the faintly-lit room.
"Quick!" said Mr Braine, whose ears were preternaturally sharp.
"Frank, keep here in hiding. You three come out when the doctor summons
you. Come, Barnes, back to our cigars. The rajah."
They glided back into the dark warm room, after adjuring those they left
to be silent, and as they took their places they could see the gleam of
lights through the trees, the sight of which had roused their guard into
making the sound which had warned the Resident.
"Light both the lamps, Tim," said Mr Braine; "and be guarded. The
rajah is coming."
The man obeyed, and as the lights shed a softened glow through the
place, the guards could see the doctor and Resident seated back smoking
calmly.
"What are we to say?" said the doctor, huskily.
"Surprised at his treatment--ask for a little time--the lady startled by
the unexpected demand--diplomacy--diplomacy. Let him go back thinking
that you will yield."
And as these last words were uttered, the lights drew near and lit up
the swarthy faces of the rajah's guards and sword-bearers filing into
the grounds.
"Whatever you do, be careful. Don't seem to yield easily. We are hurt
by his treatment, mind."
There was no time to say more, for the escort was already at the foot of
the steps, on each side of which they formed up in a picturesque group,
the lanterns they bore lighting up the showy costumes and displaying the
rajah in his European uniform.
The two Englishmen advanced into the veranda to receive him, and as he
mounted alone, he smiled, and waited to be asked into the room,
evidently quite confident of his safety with his guard so near.
As soon as he was seated, he placed his glittering sword against his
knee, and his plumed cap beside it, drawing himself up and glancing
toward the doorway to make sure that he was in full sight of his guard.
Then, turning to the doctor, he said in English: "Theeee--laidees."
The doctor bowed, and crossed to the inner door, which he threw open,
and the prisoners came out looking pale and calm, to be received with
smiles and motioned to take their seats, while the gentlemen remained
standing.
"Tell them this is only a short visit," said the rajah. "To-morrow
shall come, not to return alone. The lady will be with me, and we shall
go to the mosque. Then my English wife will return here no more."
The Resident translated the rajah's words, though the task was needless,
for all present followed him pretty well.
Then the doctor spoke, as their visitor keenly watched the effect of his
words and fixed his eyes upon the shrinking girl before him. Her
father's words were much as had been arranged, and the rajah listened to
the interpretation patiently enough.
"Yes, yes," he said; "you are her lather. I understand. But you will
be rich, and like a prince here. It is a great honour to your child.
Tell him what I say."
Mr Braine repeated the rajah's words formally, and then the visitor
rose, bowed and smiled with good-humoured contempt, and ended by drawing
a ring from one of his fingers as he rose, walked toward Amy, and placed
it upon her hand, after which he made a profound obeisance and moved
toward the door.
"One moment, your highness," said the doctor. "We are your old servants
and friends. You treat us as prisoners."
"No, no," he said, on Mr Braine repeating the words. "I honour you.
It is a guard for my wife. Not prisoners. After to-morrow, no."
"But our English friend, Murray. Your highness will let him join us?"
The rajah, caught the name Murray, and his face grew black as night, and
without waiting for the interpretation, he made an angry gesture in the
negative.
"But my son and his young friend," said Mr Braine, watching him
narrowly, to ascertain whether the flight was known.
The rajah gave him a meaning look, and laughed.
"After to-morrow," he said, "they will come back."
His face was all smiles once again, and he bowed to Amy, passed into the
veranda, descended, and the little cortege moved out of the shady
grounds. The lights slowly disappeared among the trees, while the
doctor dropped the matting hangings over the door to hide the interior
of the house from their guard, after which he turned to encounter the
pleading face of his wife as Amy threw herself sobbing upon his breast.
Mr Braine stood looking on for a few moments in silence. Then, in a
cold, stern voice, he said:
"Go back to the inner room and pray for our success. Then you have
sarongs, make yourselves as much like the Malay women as you can."
"Then we shall escape?" cried Amy, joyously.
"Heaven knows!" said the Resident. "We shall try. Ah, thank goodness,
here are the Greigs;" and unchallenged by the guards, Mr Greig and his
wife came up to the house.