KOYALA'S ULTIMATUM
The house of Lkath, chief of the Sadong Dyaks, stood on a rocky eminence
at the head of Sabu bay. The bay is a narrow arm of the Celebes Sea,
whose entrance is cunningly concealed by a series of projecting
headlands and jealously guarded by a triple row of saw-tooth rocks whose
serrated edges, pointed seaward, threaten mischief to any ship that
dares attempt the channel.
Huge breakers, urged on by the southeast monsoon, boil over these rocks
from one year's end to the next. The headlands drip with the unceasing
spray, and at their feet are twin whirlpools that go down to the very
bowels of the earth, according to tradition, and wash the feet of
Sangjang, ruler of Hades, himself. Certain it is that nothing ever cast
into the whirlpools has returned; certain it is, too, say the people of
Bulungan, that the Sang-sangs, good spirits, have never brought back any
word of the souls of men lost in the foaming waters.
In their rocky citadel and rock-guarded harbor the Sadong people have
for years laughed at their enemies, and combed the seas, taking by force
when they could, and taking in trade when those they dealt with were too
strong for them. None have such swift proas as they, and none can
follow them into their lair, for only the Sadong pilots know the
intricacies of that channel. Vengeful captains who had permitted their
eagerness to outrun discretion found their ships in the maelstrom and
rent by the rocks before they realized it, while the Sadongers in the
still, landlocked waters beyond, mocked them as they sank to their
death.
Two days after Koyala had reported the murder of the Sadonger to Peter
Gross a swift proa approached the harbor. Even an uncritical observer
would have noticed something peculiar in its movements, for it cut the
water with the speed of a launch, although its bamboo sails were furled
on the maze of yards that cluttered the triangle mast. As it neared the
channel its speed was reduced, and the chug-chug of a powerful gasoline
motor became distinctly audible. The sentinel on the promontory
gesticulated wildly to the sentinels farther inland, for he had
distinguished his chief, Lkath, at the wheel.
Under Lkath's trained hand the proa skipped through the intricate
channel without scraping a rock and shot the length of the harbor. With
shouts of "_salaamat_" (welcome) the happy Sadongers trooped to the
water-front to greet their chief. Lkath's own body-guard, fifty men
dressed in purple, red, and green chawats and head-dresses and carrying
beribboned spears, trotted down from the citadel and cleared a space for
the voyagers to disembark from the sampans that had put out for them.
As the royal sampan grounded, Lkath, with a great show of ceremony,
assisted out of the craft a short, heavy-jowled Chinaman with a face
like a Hindoo Buddha's. A low whisper of awe ran through, the
crowd--this was the great Datu himself. The multitude sank to its knees,
and each man vigorously pounded his head on the ground.
The next passenger to leave the sampan was the Rajah Wobanguli, tall, a
trifle stoop-shouldered, and leering craftily at the motley throng, the
cluster of houses, and the fortifications. A step behind him Captain Van
Slyck, dapper and politely disdainful as always, sauntered along the
beach and took his place in one of the dos-a-dos that had hastened
forward at a signal from Lkath. The vehicles rumbled up the hill.
When they neared the temple that stood close to Lkath's house at the
very summit of the hill an old man, dressed in long robes, stepped into
the center of the band and lifted his hand. The procession halted.
"What is it, voice of Djath?" Lkath asked respectfully.
"The _bilian_ is here and awaits your presence," the priest announced.
Lkath stifled an exclamation of surprise.
"Koyala is here," he said to his guests. Ah Sing's face was
expressionless. Wobanguli, the crafty, smiled non-committally. Van Slyck
alone echoed Lkath's astonishment.
"A hundred miles over jungle trails in less than two days," he
remarked, with a low whistle. "How the devil did she do it?"
There was no doubting the priest's words, however, for as they entered
the temple Koyala herself came to meet them.
"Come this way," she said authoritatively, and led them into a
side-chamber reserved for the priests. The room was imperfectly lit by a
single window in the thick rock walls. A heavy, oiled Chinese paper
served as a substitute for glass.
"He will be here to-morrow," she announced. "What are you going to do
with him?"
There was no need for her to mention a name, all knew whom she referred
to. A silence came upon them. Van Slyck, Wobanguli, and Lkath, with the
instinct of lesser men who know their master, looked at Ah Sing. The
Chinaman's eyes slumbered between his heavy lids.
"What are you going to do with him, Datu?" Koyala demanded, addressing
Ah Sing directly.
"The Princess Koyala is our ally and friend," he replied gutturally.
"Your ally waits to hear the decision of the council," Koyala retorted
coldly.
Wobanguli interposed. "There are things, _bilian_, that are not fitting
for the ear of a woman," he murmured suavely, with a sidelong glance at
Ah Sing.
"I am a warrior, Rajah, as well as a woman, with the same rights in the
council that you have," Koyala reminded.
Wobanguli smiled his pleasantest. "True, my daughter," he agreed
diplomatically. "But he is not yet ours. When we have snared the bird it
is time enough to talk of how it shall be cooked."
"You told me at Bulungan that this would be decided on shipboard,"
Koyala replied sharply. A tempest began to kindle in her face. "Am I to
be used as a decoy and denied a voice on what shall be done with my
prisoner?"
"We haven't decided--" Van Slyck began.
"That is false!"
Van Slyck reddened with anger and raised his hand as though to strike
her. Koyala's face was a dusky gray in its pallor and her eyes blazed
with contempt.
"Peace!" Ah Sing rumbled sternly. "He is my prisoner. I marked him for
mine before he was named resident."
"You are mistaken, Datu," Koyala said significantly. "He is my prisoner.
He comes here upon my invitation. He comes here under my protection. He
is my guest and no hostile hand shall touch him while he is here."
Ah Sing's brow ridged with anger. He was not accustomed to being
crossed. "He is mine, I tell you, woman," he snarled. "His name is
written in my book, and his nails shall rest in my cabinet."
The Dyak blood mounted to Koyala's face.
"He is not yours; he is mine!" she cried. "He was mine long before you
marked him yours, Datu."
Wobanguli hastened to avoid a rupture. "If it is a question of who
claimed him first, we can lay it before the council," he suggested.
"The council has nothing to do with it," Koyala retorted. There was a
dangerous gleam in her eyes. "I marked him as mine more than a year ago,
when he was still a humble sailor with no thought of becoming resident.
His ship came to the mouth of the Abbas River, to Wolang's village, and
traded for rattan with Wolang. I saw him then, and swore that one day he
would be mine."
"You desire him?" Ah Sing bellowed. The great purple veins stood out on
his forehead, and his features were distorted with malignancy.
Koyala threw back her head haughtily.
"If I do, who is going to deny me?"
Ah Sing choked in inarticulate fury. His face was black with rage.
"I will, woman!" he bawled. "You are mine--Ah Sing's--"
He leaped toward her and buried his long fingers, with their sharp
nails, in the soft flesh of her arm. Koyala winced with pain; then
outraged virginity flooded to her face in a crimson tide. Tearing
herself away, she struck him a stinging blow in the face. He staggered
back. Van Slyck leaped toward her, but she was quicker than he and
backed against the wall. Her hand darted inside her kabaya and she drew
a small, silver-handled dagger. Van Slyck stopped in his tracks.
Ah Sing recovered himself and slowly smoothed his rumpled garments. He
did not even look at Koyala.
"Let us go," he said thickly.
Koyala sprang to the door. She was panting heavily.
"You shall not go until you pledge me that he is mine!" she cried.
Ah Sing looked at her unblinkingly. The deadly malignancy of his face
caused even Van Slyck to shiver.
"You may have your lover, woman," he said in a low voice.
Koyala stared at him as though turned to stone. Suddenly her cheeks, her
forehead, her throat even, blazed scarlet. She flung her weapon aside;
it clattered harmlessly on the bamboo matting. Tears started in her
eyes. Burying her face in her arms, she sobbed unrestrainedly.
They stared at her in astonishment. After a sidelong glance at Ah Sing,
Wobanguli placed a caressing hand on her arm.
"_Bilian_, my daughter--" he began.
Koyala flung his arm aside and lifted her tear-stained face with a
passionate gesture.
"Is this my reward?" she cried. "Is this the return I get for all I have
done to drive the _orang blanda_ out of Bulungan? My lover? When no lips
of man have ever touched mine, shall ever touch mine--" She stamped her
foot in fury. "Fools! Fools! Can't you see why I want him? He laughed at
me--there by the Abbas River--laughed at my disgrace--yea, I know he
was laughing, though he hid his smile with the cunning of the _orang
blanda_. I swore then that he would be mine--that some day he should
kneel before me, and beg for these arms around his, and my kiss on his
lips. Then I would sink a dagger into his heart as I bent to kiss
him--let him drink the deep sleep that has no ending outside of
Sangjang."
Her fingers clenched spasmodically, as though she already felt the hilt
of the fatal blade between them.
Van Slyck drew a deep breath. The depth of her savage, elemental passion
dazed him. She looked from man to man, and as he felt her eyes upon him
he involuntarily stepped back a pace, shuddering. The doubt he had of
her a few moments before vanished; he did not question but what he had
glimpsed into her naked soul. Lkath and Wobanguli were convinced, too,
for fear and awe of this wonderful woman were expressed on their faces.
Ah Sing alone scanned her face distrustfully.
"Why should I trust you?" he snarled.
Koyala started, then shrugged her shoulders indifferently and flung the
door open for them to pass out. As Ah Sing passed her he halted a moment
and said significantly:
"I give you his life to-day. But remember, Bintang Burung, there is one
more powerful than all the princes of Bulungan."
"The god Djath is greater than all princes and Datus," Koyala replied
quietly. "I am his priestess. Answer, Lkath, whose voice is heard
before yours in Sadong?"
Lkath bowed low, almost to the ground.
"Djath rules us all," he acknowledged.
"You see," Koyala said to Ah Sing, "even your life is mine."
Something like fear came into the eyes of the Chinaman for the first
time.
"I go back to Bulungan," he announced thickly.