"What's going to be the end of this?" said Beecher at last, as they sat
sipping excellent coffee and smoking huge cigarettes, the tobacco being
inclosed in a sheath of palm sprout.
"Don't know yet," replied Hollins coolly. "The sultan will give us some
tiger-shooting off his elephants, perhaps.--No, no, not now, old chap,"
he added quickly. "It's too hot, and too soon after lunch.--What does
he say, boy?"
"That he wishes us to come out and see something that we stopped, by
arriving as we did."
"Oh, very well. If he really is going to treat us civilly we are at his
service," cried Hollins, rearing his bulky form above the sultan, as he
rose to his feet. "Here, give me your hand, my royal personage."
The sultan shrank as if staggered by his visitor's freedom, but the
great hand was extended before him, and as if there were magnetic
influence at work he slowly raised his own, allowed it to be grasped,
and by its help rose erect.
"Come," he said, in his own tongue.
"Yes, I understand that," said Hollins.
"Be careful," whispered Beecher. "Don't overdo it, man."
"Not lay it on too thick? Must, or we shall never make them understand
the colour of the paint. Here, you two lads keep close behind us," he
cried, "and if they try to stop you, call to me."
The sultan led the way out to the crowd, which remained evidently
waiting for their chief's return, for a low murmur arose as they
approached, while the two men kneeling bound in the midst, surrounded
by guards, raised their heads to gaze with a half-stupefied,
half-wistful stare in their direction.
"What does it mean?" said Hollins, in a low voice, as they followed
the sultan's example and sat upon the seats placed ready. "We didn't
interrupt an execution, did we?"
"Execution? Oh no. Punishment of some kind, though. Look at them. It
can't be anything very bad, for they're chewing their betel calmly
enough."
"So bad, I'm afraid, that I shouldn't like to change places with
them.--Well," he said aloud to a couple of the Malays who like most of
their fellows were glaring at them fiercely, "what do you think of an
Englishman?"
"Think they don't like the look of you, old fellow," said Beecher
smiling. "You're too big for their taste."
For every face they encountered was shadowed by an unpleasant scowl,
and it seemed as if at a word every man's hand would have been raised
against them.
"I don't know that we want to see these poor wretches punished,"
whispered Beecher.
"No," said Hollins in a low growl; "but we're in for it now."
"But it is evidently serious. There's a man behind them who looks like
the executioner."
"Ah, that one," said Hollins. "I believe you're right: but they all
look like executioners to me, and as if they'd make us take our turn
next. Look here, lad, if they do begin any of their tricks, I'm going
to turn ugly and make a rush for our boat. There she is, tied on to the
stern of the prahu."
"Pst! Look," whispered Beecher, for the sultan glanced towards them,
smiled, and then made a sign to his men.
Quick as thought a couple of Malays seized one of the fettered men,
jerked him forward, and then forced him back into a kneeling position.
The poor wretch was bare save for the check sarong bound about his
loins, and he made no resistance, going on calmly chewing his scrap of
betel-nut, and remaining erect in his kneeling position, as the men on
either side hung away, holding each by his upper arm.
What followed was as rapid as it was horrible, the executioner going
through a series of movements with a skill which seemed to prove him to
be well accustomed to his dreadful task.
Beecher longed to retreat, but sat there as if fascinated, while the
operator stepped swiftly and silently behind the victim--culprit,
enemy, or murderer, who could say? In one hand the man had a tuft of
white cotton-wool, in the other a small pistol-handled kris, with a
thin perfectly straight blade.
He placed the cotton-wool like a pad upon the prisoner's shoulder
with his left hand, just in the hollow by the collar-bone. Then with
his right he passed the sharp point of his straight kris between the
fingers which held the cotton pad in its place, closing them so that
the little kris stood perfectly upright like a great nail waiting to be
driven home.
The next instant the right hand delivered a sharp blow upon the hilt
of the kris, and it was driven right down the victim's chest, and as
sharply drawn out again through the cotton-wool, which wiped away every
trace of blood, as the wretched creature fell forward upon his face
without a struggle--pierced through the heart.
Beecher sat firm as a rock; but as the kris was withdrawn a spasm
seemed to shoot through his own breast, and a thick mist gathered
before his eyes like a veil.
It was apparently minutes before the cloud lifted, and Beecher once
more saw clearly, shuddering as if with cold, as the executioner was
withdrawing his kris through the cotton pad, and he uttered a faint
gasp as he realised the fact that this was the second victim falling
forward upon his face.
There was a peculiar hissing noise behind where Beecher sat, as if
some one had drawn his breath sharply through his teeth, and he turned
quickly, to see the two regimental servants looking very white; but
their faces were as hard as if cut in wood.
"Horrible!" said Hollins, in a low, hoarse voice; "and the people all
looking on as if it were a fête! Ugh! I can stand leading our lads in a
charge, and get warm at it, but this gives me the chilly blues."
"Yes, horrible!" said Beecher; "and that Rajah sits smiling as if he
enjoyed it."
"Well, you haven't much room to talk; you sat through it all as coolly."
"I?" exclaimed Beecher.
"Yes; I watched you. Well, I suppose it's all over, and we may as well
come to an understanding with my lord here. I want to go. But I say, I
hope he didn't see me showing the white feather. Did he?"
"The white feather! Nonsense! You didn't move a muscle."
"Couldn't if I'd wanted to. Here: the sultan's speaking to you."
Beecher turned and faced the smiling chief.
"There are more to die," said the latter coolly.
It was on the tip of the young man's tongue to say, "After we have
gone!" but he checked himself, feeling that they would lose all the
prestige they had earned by shrinking now, and he simply bowed his
head, rising as the sultan did, and walking in company with his string
of attendants, some of whom bore the stools upon which they had been
seated.
"Where are they going now?" growled Hollins; "to one of the prahus?"
It seemed like it, for the sultan stopped short opposite one of the
vessels lying off the inlet shore.
Beecher caught his lower lip between his teeth, and gave a quick glance
about him, taking in all he could without moving his head. There were
the two prahus in front, crowded on the shore side with men, and a
short distance to the left was the boat in which they had ascended the
river, quite empty, for the crew were now in the first prahu. There
were plenty of other boats near, lying tied up to posts, or the trees
which overshadowed much of the inlet; but nothing seemed to offer an
easy way of escape unless they could reach their boat after dark, cast
off, and trust to the stream to bear them down to their camp.
"Seems to me," growled Hollins softly, breaking in upon his companion's
musings, "that we fellows have only to put on a good face and bounce
about a bit, to make these swarthy scoundrels respect us. I want to
know, though, whether his High and Mightiness here will let us go
peaceably after he has finished his show. Why, Dick, lad, we seem to
have dropped in upon jail delivery day."
"What do you mean?" said Beecher sharply, as he heard Jerry once more
draw a sharp hissing breath.
"More prisoners. They're bringing them out from that hut yonder."
"Ah!" exclaimed Beecher, in a low excited whisper; "the wretches, the
fiends! They're surely not going to kill those two girls. Oh, I can't
stand this!"
"Quiet, man!" growled Hollins. "It's as much as our lives are worth to
interfere."
"My life will be nothing to me if I sit here and see this horror. Here,
Rajah. Those women; they are not going to be killed?"
"Yes," said the sultan, showing his teeth in a pleasant smile. "They
escaped, and were brought back. My wives."
"But to be killed?"
"Yes. They will go to the river; and there----"
He laughed pleasantly, and placed his hands together, the wrists
touching, the palm and fingers widely apart, and then brought them
together sharply, in imitation of the closing of a crocodile's jaws.
"But it is horrible!" cried Beecher excitedly. "The English Government
will never allow this."
"Quiet, man," whispered Hollins excitedly. "What can the English
Government do now?"
"It's duty," whispered back Beecher excitedly. "We represent it: two
officers of her Majesty's forces."
"Four of us altogether," said Hollins sternly, "standing on the edge of
danger ourselves. Why, man, there must be five hundred of the sultan's
people here."
"I don't care if there are five thousand," said Beecher hoarsely. "I
say it shall not go on."
"I thought I was to do the brag and bullying, lad?"
"Will you stand by me?" panted Beecher.
"Of course."
"Your gun is loaded?"
"Yes."
"Jerry--Joe."
"Yes, sir," said the former sharply, and his companion's lips moved.
"You have the revolvers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Loaded?"
"Every chamber, sir."
"Stand by us, then, if we have to fight."
"Right, sir," said the man coolly, and Hollins's man nodded his head
and tightened his lips till they looked like a thin red line drawn
tightly over the lower part of his face.
"It's horribly rash, my lad, and we've no right to interfere with a
Rajah's domestic institutions," said Hollins in a dry, harsh voice that
did not sound like his own.
"You can't sit still and see those two women murdered."
"Don't suppose I can," was the reply. "What shall I do? Shoot the
Rajah?"
"I don't know yet. Wait and see. Yes, I know.--Here, Jerry."
"Sir."
"There are crocodiles in this part of the river?"
"Yes, sir, waiting to take them two poor things under. Both pretty,
sir, and don't look sixteen."
"Listen, then. If I give the word, dare you swim to our boat and cut it
loose?"
"No, sir."
"What?"
"Don't dare, sir, because of them great ugly efts; but you're my
officer, sir; just you order me to, and I'm blessed if I don't try."
"Good words, matey," said Joe huskily. "If you don't, I will."
"Then if it comes to the worst, and I say, 'In the Queen's name,' dash
in, cut the rope, and bring the boat ashore. Open your knife in your
pocket now."
"'Tis open, sir--'case I wanted to stick it into one of these brutes o'
niggers."
"Good. Wait till the people are watching those women, and slip the
revolver into my hand."
"Right, sir."
Almost at that moment, while the two wretched girls were being brought,
shrinking and trembling, towards where the sultan was seated, one of
them seemed to have suddenly realised the horrible fate which awaited
her: possibly she caught her first glimpse of the flashing water, and
she uttered a wild shriek that as Jerry afterwards said went through
him like a knife.
"That's done it, Dick," growled Hollins in a whisper. "That's done it.
I'm wound up now. Say when you're ready."
In the midst of the excitement, and every one's attention centred upon
the girls, the second following her companion's example--shrieking and
struggling wildly, as each was dragged towards the sultan by a couple
of his followers, Beecher felt the handle of a revolver thrust into
his hand, which closed upon it, and placed it in the waistband of his
trousers.
The shrieks of the two unfortunate victims were now horrible, and as
they were dragged close up to where the four Englishmen sat, thrilling
with horror, panting with suppressed energy, they saw the girls stretch
out their arms to the master whose wretched slaves they were, and
mingled with their shrieks, which pierced the utter silence around,
were inarticulate appeals for mercy.
The next moment the cries ceased as if a hand had been laid upon each
pair of quivering lips, for Beecher suddenly sprang to his feet,
shouting "Stop!" and turned to the sultan.
"Sir," he cried hoarsely, "we your guests appeal to you as Englishmen
to pardon and spare these poor women, however much they have offended
against you."
Every eye was fixed now upon the speaker, as he stood there bareheaded
and quivering with excitement, and looking for the first time in his
life, big, almost grand, his face flushed, his breast heaving, every
inch an Englishman and soldier of his Queen.
"Sit down," said the sultan, smiling up at the speaker in the most
imperturbable manner; and though Beecher did not see it, Hollins did:
his hand stole softly to the folds of his silken sarong, where it
rested upon his kris. "Sit down."
"And see this cruel murder? I cannot, sir. I appeal to you to spare
their lives."
"Sit down," said the sultan in the same low tone; but the smile was as
ferocious as that of some beast of prey. "Sit down, or----"
His eyes flashed luridly now, and there was an ominous rustle from
behind, which made Hollins give a sharp look back at the guards.
"Then _In the Queens Name!_" shouted Beecher, raising his double gun,
and before the words had left his lips Jerry leaped past him, and in
a series of bounds reached the edge of the water to disappear with a
tremendous splash.
As Jerry made his first bound his master was in the act of rushing
towards where the two girls were being now held down upon their knees
by the men who had dragged them to the sultan's feet, when quick as
lightning the savage chief made a blow at him with his kris, which fell
short, for, driven with the full force of Hollins's tremendous arms,
the butt of his double gun crashed against the side of the tyrant's
head, and he rolled over and over among his attendants.
[Illustration: "The butt of his double gun crashed against the side of
the tyrant's head."]
This daring attack on majesty seemed to have a paralysing effect upon
the group of spearmen and swordbearers, who hung together for a few
moments in utter wonder and dismay.
They were moments well utilised, for in that brief space of time the
men who held the girls went over, two from blows dealt by Hollins with
the butt of his gun, the others from strokes delivered by Beecher and
Joe with the revolver he had drawn.
All this without a shot being fired, and for the moment the prisoners
were free.
Fortunately for their would-be defenders, the girls were not timid
creatures ready to faint, or cripple the arms of those who fought. For
they sprang to their feet and looked wildly round for an opening by
which to escape.
"To the naga--to the naga!" shouted Beecher, who saw his man in the
act of reaching the bows of the light boat, and as an arm rose above
the water there was the flash of a knife-blade in the sunshine, and the
boat was free and being urged with the stream towards the shore.
The girls dashed along the bank, fully grasping the fact that escape
lay in that direction, and it was time, for a yell of suppressed rage
now arose, as the Malays recovered from their panic, spears were
levelled, krises flashed in the light, and they commenced their attack.
[Illustration: "The girls dashed along the bank."]
But their movements were slow and stealthy like those of the tiger
preparing to spring, for three Englishmen faced them, each with deadly
weapons ready to flash out destruction, as they backed in the direction
of their boat.
"Don't fire, boys; don't fire," growled Hollins. "Give the girls time
to get on board. Look back, Joe, has Jerry got it ashore?"
"Pretty close, sir," said the man shortly. "Hooroar! One of the girls
has jumped in. Yes, there goes the other. Won't leave us in the lurch,
will they?--No. Hooroar again! they've took to the oars and are holding
her in. Jerry's getting ashore again, legs and all, sir--not touched."
"Here you are, gents," came in that individual's familiar accents. "Let
'm have it hot, and make a run for it."
"No!" roared Hollins. "Keep your formation till we're abreast; then
retire singly. You first, Joe."
There was a bristling hedge of spear-points approaching, and a snarling
roar of voices rose, while suddenly a spear was thrown from the first
prahu, but only to fall short of the retreating party, yards away upon
the bank. Still that was the signal for a shower.
"They won't hurt," growled Hollins. "But if these brutes begin--Ah, I
expected it.--Steady!--From the left.--Fire!"
A shot flashed from Beecher's gun as the spears began to fall about
them, and a man dropped. Another fell from Hollins's fire, and another
as Joe's revolver cracked. Then Beecher fired his second barrel, and
drew his revolver.
At the same moment a dripping hand snatched the empty gun from his
grasp, and a couple of cartridges from his sporting bandoleer.
"Good man and true," growled Hollins, as he fired. "Aboard now, Jerry;
take more cartridges, and cover our retreat. Steady, and keep up a good
covering fire. Steady, Joe, steady."
The firing was kept up, and the next minute they were abreast of the
boat, which was held to the shore by the two brave girls.
"Right, man. Aboard now," cried Hollins calmly, as a shot from the
boat's stern told that Jerry had begun work; and directly after a sharp
crack came from the bows, telling that Joe had reached his place, men
dropping at every carefully aimed shot.
[Illustration: "Crack!"]
"Hah!" ejaculated Beecher, as a spear passed through his sleeve.
"Hurt, lad?" growled Hollins. "Aboard if you can."
"Nothing much. Follow quickly," said Beecher, between his teeth, and
the next moment Hollins stood alone upon the shore, to fire both
barrels of his reloaded gun in succession, before turning and leaping
aboard, the impetus given by his heavy body sending the boat yards from
the bank, while the two girls began to row.
As soon as the last man left the bank the Malays rushed forward and
began to hurl their spears, nearly every one striking the boat, till
at a word from Hollins a little volley was fired, and, four less in
number, the enemy shrank back.
"Now lads," said Hollins coolly, "let us have your pieces; we'll keep
up the fire. You take two of the oars, and help the girls. Send her
along with a rush, for they're beginning to unmoor that first prahu.
Dick, lad, we must begin practice now on the men at the sweeps, or the
game will soon be up. Oh, for half a company of our brave lads! But
good heavens, man! are you much hurt?"
"No; only a cut, which bleeds a deal. Tie your handkerchief round, and
I can fire steadily enough. They're unmooring the prahu. Can you hit
that man casting off the rope there ashore?"
_Crack!_
"Yes, that's downed him," said Hollins coolly reloading. "Hah! we're
out of the reach of spears for the present."
"Till the prahu comes after us to run us down," muttered
Beecher.--"Well, if ever they hear of it at home they'll say it was
bravely done."