A FIGHT: A GREAT PERIL AND A TIMELY RESCUE.
As day broke we examined our position. The island--which had, in
all probability, at some distant period, formed a promontory of the
mainland, until cut off by the channel which now divided it from the
shore--appeared to be about three miles in length by two in breadth.
To the right, to the left, to the back of us, the shores were belted
with groves of the cocoa-nut and gomuti palms; but the shore opposite
the mainland was sandy and bare, excepting that nearly to the water’s
edge were scattered the trunks of huge palms--which, by the way, our
commander in the night had ingeniously converted into buttresses for
the sandbanks--or, in military parlance, “earthworks”--they had thrown
up, and which were about breast-high.
As the sun rose in the horizon, we saw the Balinese, at least a hundred
of them, bustling to and fro, shaking their spears and creeses in
defiance, and could hear their yells of anticipatory triumph.
“They are preparing to attack us, Martin; see, they have a couple of
boats. Let us arouse Prabu,” said I.
“Aye, Claud, but look--they have observed us; down with your head,”
and scarcely had he uttered the words when a shower of arrows came
flying through the air--the greater number of which, however, found
their billets in the earthworks.
“Come, Martin, let us call Prabu.”
“No, not yet; every minute of rest is an object, with such work as we
have before us for the rest of the day. Let us tackle them between us.
But look--the two boats have put off. Bring your rifle to your shoulder
and take a steady aim at one, while I take the other; for it would be
uncivil not to acknowledge the receipt of the feathered messengers they
have just sent.”
Well, a steady and deliberate aim, and from across the water we could
hear the dull thud--thud of our bullets, as they struck the sides of
the boats.
“Anyhow,” cried Martin, “there is a couple of loopholes in their sides,
but that is not enough. Again, Claud, but this time an inch or two
higher;” and once more we fired. The reports of our pieces aroused
Prabu and the men, who came towards us, shouting, “Malik, Malik!--they
are coming, they are coming!”
“Are they, though!” exclaimed Martin--“not a bit of it; at least not
until they have put into dock again to stop the shot-holes in their
sails and boats.” And Prabu, at first angry that we had commenced
action without orders, no sooner saw the telling effect of our
well-directed fire, than he cried out--
“The sahibs are heroes--let them keep their rifles pointed at the
boats,” and then he employed himself in posting his little force, with
their muskets, at angles of the works; so that while we, with our
long-range rifles, harassed the enemy, Prabu and his party could, by a
cross-fire, deal out destruction to any who, after the habit of their
race, might take to the water--which, as it was then low tide, was not
more than breast-high.
For a couple of hours, however, we had but little employment, save
discharging a bullet now and then among stragglers, who from time to
time ventured to the edge of the water, for the purpose of sending
an arrow or two at any head that might chance to appear above our
sandbank. As for the two boats, they had long since been lugged ashore,
their crews not a little scared that a bullet could be sent among them
from so great a distance; for it was, in all probability, the first
time the deadly rifle had been heard by them.
But the brave Balinese will get accustomed to any weapon, however
terrible at first, and so speedily the boats were again manned, but
this time their crews, all but two rowers in each, laid themselves at
the bottom; and at the same time that they put off, some eighty of
their comrades, armed with bows, arrows, spears, and creeses, took to
the water--in order, I suppose, to create a diversion, for the latter
were equally divided into parties and placed at each side of the boats:
thus, shrieking and yelling, they advanced toward us.
As before, Martin and I kept our eyes upon the boats; but so well and
gallantly did their crews manœuvre them--keeping them for ever moving,
twisting, and whirling them about in the water--that they became as
difficult to hit as seagulls on the wing in a tempest: we fired and
fired, but all in vain. In the meantime, Prabu and his men had stood at
their posts without firing a shot, and a well-planned manœuvre it was;
for as the yelling, screaming enemy--having exhausted a considerable
portion of their strength by their toil in the water, and the
frequent discharge of their arrows (you must remember that they stood
breast-high in the sea)--came near the shore, one half kept firing and
the other loading, and that with such good aim and rapidity, that in
about an hour, all who were not killed beat a retreat to the mainland.
But while this had been going on, Martin and I had been engaged keeping
the boats, which, daringly enough, had run right beneath the works,
from landing their crews: one of these we managed to scuttle by pouring
bullets into her, and her few remaining men swam back to the opposite
shore; but the other, in spite of rifles and muskets, set her crew
ashore.
Had they effected this an hour before, when their comrades were
finding full occupation for Prabu and the men, we should have been
hopelessly lost. But now the latter, throwing aside their muskets and
drawing their creeses, sprang to our aid, and drove them back to their
boat--all but one, and he, Martin and I carried a prisoner into the
interior.
The enemy being thus beaten back, we began to take stock of our
ammunition: the result was pitiful.
“Not half a dozen rounds each man,” cried I.
“We must reserve them for our utmost need, and take to our creeses and
the butts of our pieces,” said Prabu.
“Aye, aye,” said Martin; “it will come to a hand-to-hand fight soon,
and then we shall be beaten by mere numbers.”
“Would to heaven Kati and the prahu were near!” I exclaimed; and I must
admit that, at the prospect before us, we became gloomy and thoughtful.
My brother, however, who was seldom at a loss for expedients, suddenly
exclaimed, as a bright thought occurred to him:
“I have it! We will re-rig that scuttled boat, and one or two of us can
put out to sea in search of the prahu.”
“Good,” said Prabu, “and we may yet be saved; for she must be somewhere
at hand upon the coast.”
“I have another notion,” cried Martin; “we will examine our prisoner.”
“To what purpose?” I asked.
“Oh! you will see,” he replied, and we had the man brought before us.
“Now,” said Martin to him, “we are going to hang you up to one of those
palm-trees.”
“God is great! What is written _is_ written: the sahib has his
servant’s life in his hands,” replied the man--who, like the greater
portion of Mahomed’s subjects, was a Mussulman.
“Well, that’s cool,” replied Martin; “but,” he added, “will you
honestly answer any questions I may put to you, if we promise to save
your life?”
“Sahib,” he replied, “a dead man is of no use to his family.”
“No,” interrupted my brother, laughing; “that is a fact, no doubt.”
“Then, by the head of the Prophet and my hopes of Paradise, I will
answer the sahib truly.”
“Is your rascally chief, Mahomed, dead?”
“Sahib, no, but severely wounded, yet not so badly that he cannot
direct the attacks upon you here.”
“Why did this young chief, the son of a man so friendly to us, seek to
encompass our deaths so treacherously?”
“Because, while the sahibs and the Captain Prabu were in the capital, a
Dutch ship came whose captain offered him a great reward in silver, as
also the prahu, its guns and cargo, if he would deliver into his hand a
certain Captain Prabu.”
“But why did the Dutch want the Captain Prabu? what harm has he done
them?” asked our leader himself.
“Because the great Dutch chief who rules at Batavia knows that Prabu is
a descendant of the Prince Surapati, and also that he has been sailing
about the island, and on the coast of Java, to incite the different
chiefs and princes to rebellion against the Dutch.”
“The dog!” exclaimed Prabu, “but how can this be? is it possible a son
can disgrace a father’s memory, for did not the late chief hate the
Dutch, and with his son swear eternal war against them?”
“He did, sahib, but Mahomed loves honor and his country less than
gold and power; besides, the Dutch governor has promised to make him
Rajah of Blilling in place of the present Prince, who he fears--nay
_knows_--is his enemy.”
“How _know_ they this?” asked Prabu, in alarm.
“Mahomed has sent a messenger to the governor of Batavia, telling him.”
“But where is the Dutch grab?” asked Martin.
“At the mouth of the straits of Bali, awaiting the return of the prahu
either to receive prisoners, when Mahomed has taken them, or to waylay
the prahu in case she should escape from Mahomed.”
“But the prahu, know you where she is?”
“Almost within gun-shot, riding at single anchor, about two leagues
from the town.”
“Now,” said Martin, sternly, “we are going to send the boat in search
of the prahu; we will keep you here till its return, when, if we find
you have spoken falsely, you shall be hanged like a dog.”
“If, oh, Sahib! thy servant hath spoken falsely, let him die the death
of a dog; but, if truly, let him live.”
“A bargain!” cried Martin; and so the conference ended, to the
satisfaction of all parties.
When, however, the boat had been made seaworthy, there arose a dispute
between my brother, Prabu, and me, as to who should undertake the
somewhat dangerous service of seeking the prahu. Indeed, we could
only settle it by casting lots, when the duty fell to my brother, who
thereupon left the island by the wooded side, taking with him his
rifle, all the ammunition we could spare, and some fruits.
The remainder of that day we patiently awaited another attack, but it
came not. The Balinese contented themselves with keeping watch along
the opposite shores--a matter, by the way, of small consolation to
us, for it was evident they were only awaiting reinforcements from
the interior, and, in all probability, fresh boats, and should these
auxiliaries arrive before the coming of the prahu, we were hopelessly
lost. Then, again, now that the excitement of the fighting was past,
our men lay about in all directions in a state of exhaustion, with no
other refreshment than the fruits of the cocoanut-tree and the _gomuti_
palm; indeed, but for these two edibles, we should have died from mere
exhaustion, as between them they afforded us both meat and drink.
Apropos of the latter, it is not only one of the most singular members
of the vegetable world in the Indian islands, but adapted to such a
variety of uses, that my readers may fairly excuse me for giving them a
description of it.
The gomuti (_Borassus gomutus_) is the thickest of all the palms,
but shorter than the cocoa-nut. The fruits, which are about the
size of a medlar, and of a triangular form, grow from the shoots of
fructification on long strings of three or four feet, and that, too, in
such abundance, that the quantity depending from a single shoot is more
than a load for a man. The fleshy outer covering affords a juice of so
highly stimulating and corrosive a nature, that, when applied to the
skin, it occasions great pain and inflammation. Then, from the interior
of the fruit, the Chinese prepare a sweetmeat, and the Indian islanders
distil a spirit or toddy, which they use upon going into action, and
which excites them in such a degree, that the Dutch not inappropriately
denominate it _hell-fire_. This is the principal production of the
gomuti palm, and it is extracted in the following ingenious manner:--
One of the shoots of fructification is, on the first appearance of
fruit, beaten for three successive days with a small stick; the shoot
is then cut off a little way from the root, and the liquor which pours
forth is received in pots. One palm will, at the age of nine years,
yield for two years at the average of three quarts a day. From this
liquor, again, a sugar is made by boiling it to a syrup, and is sold
in all the markets. The Chinese also use it in the composition of the
celebrated Batavian arrack.
Another production of great value, and which resembles black horsehair,
is found between the trunk and branches, in a matted form, interspersed
with long, hard, woody twigs of the same color. When freed from the
latter, it is used for any purpose of cordage. The small twigs found in
the hair-like material are used by all the tribes who write on paper as
pens, and for the manufacture of the poisoned arrows, which are blown
from tubes. Beneath this hair-like material is found a third species,
of a soft, gossamer-like texture, which is used by the Chinese in large
quantities as oakum in calking the beams of ships, and as tinder for
kindling fires. Lastly, like the true sago-palm, the gomuti affords
a medullary matter, from which a farina is formed, and which is used
throughout Java in considerable quantities. But to resume my story.
Hour after hour having passed without bringing an attack from the
Balinese, I began to entertain some hope that the severe loss they had
already sustained from our fire-arms, but more especially the rifles,
had so sickened them that they would make no other attempt--at least
until we had been reinforced by the prahu. These hopes, however, were
dissipated when, at the dead of night, as I lay stretched across our
earthworks with rifle in hand, I heard a confused noise, a splashing in
the water, and saw torchlights dancing among the trees on the banks.
Having awakened Prabu, he watched and listened for a few minutes, and
then said:
“They have been reinforced from the town, Sahib. They have horsemen
among them; I can hear the trampling of their hoofs--nay, listen, that
was the neighing of a horse!”
“True,” I said; for I had distinctly made out the same sound.
“They have _boats_, too,” he continued. “They intend attacking us under
cover of the darkness of the night, believing thereby they will avoid
our rifles and musketry.”
“Just my opinion, Prabu. I will send a bullet among them to let them
know we are prepared. If it knocks over one or two, it may deter them
from coming, as they will have proof sufficient that the darkness is no
great protection.”
“No, no, Sahib, not one charge must be wasted. They shall approach,
aye, to within a dozen yards of the shore, for you will see that each
boat will hold two or three men with torches, which will be lighted
only as they are about to land and fall among us like so many demons.”
Prabu then posted the eight of us, including himself, along the
earthworks, at intervals of about a dozen yards.
“Speak not a word, move not a limb, till you hear the report of my
piece; then, taking a cool, steady aim, fire!”
With what breathless suspense I stood, with my rifle just resting upon
the breastwork, endeavoring to peer through the darkness, for now there
was no torch-light to be seen ashore. For an hour this lasted--no sound
save the rustling of the wind or the gentle lashing of the waves--when
there came upon my ears a slight, dull noise as of the dipping of
muffled oars. Prabu must also have recognized it, for, stepping softly
along the little line of men, he whispered his orders.
“Steady! they are coming! Fire not till you hear the report of my
piece.”
Then all was silent--motionless as death. The invaders had rested
upon their oars, the better to prepare themselves, perhaps. But a few
minutes, and again the sound of measured strokes. They appeared near,
nearer, still nearer; then a whispered word of command, followed by
the click, click of flint and steel, and six or seven torches were
blazing and exposing to view the swarthy bodies of our opponents. It
was enough--the loud, sharp crack of the rifles of Prabu and six others
was followed by a howling as from a thousand demons--a noise one could
scarcely have imagined out of pandemonium. Each shot must have told,
too; for the but recently advancing boats immediately fell back into
the middle of the channel, and their crews extinguished the lights.
“Marvelously well done! After that they won’t return to-night,” said I.
“Sahib,” replied Prabu, “reload--be prepared; they will be here again
directly.”
Prabu was right. Again and again they came, and each time with greater
desperation, for we could only drive them back by firing volley after
volley; but at length our exertions were rewarded, for they were driven
back to return no more that night--at least, so we hoped.
“Thank Heaven!” I exclaimed, “morning is not far off.”
“Too far off, I fear, Sahib,” replied Prabu, “to be of use to us when
it does come, for we have _but one charge each_ left!”
“A fearful position, truly!” I replied. “Would to Heaven the prahu
were at hand! What _can_ we do?”
“They may not come again to-night--but they _may_; therefore let us
remain at our posts, and reserve fire this time until they have left
their boats--then a volley, and then--”
“What!” I asked, as the perspiration ran down my forehead.
“That will be the end,” he replied, quite coolly; “for all we can do
then will be to die, with musket and creese in hand.”
“A pretty prospect!” I thought. Nevertheless, I had one consolation--my
brother Martin would escape; yet how bitter would be his sorrow at
our defeat and my death. There was little time, however, for such
reflections, for suddenly there fell upon our ears a sound as if from
mid-channel--click, click, click--and the darkness became illumined
by a hundred torches, which as many savages held above their heads,
so rendering them hideous beyond comparison. The click, clicking was
explained; it had been caused by their flints and steels.
“What means this manœuvre?” I cried.
“We shall soon be dead men. It only remains for us to give them a
well-aimed volley when they touch the shore. But down, down, all of
you, between the breastworks!”
The order was indeed seasonable, for between every two of the
torchbearers stood a man with a strung bow, and scarcely had we ducked
our heads, than a shower of arrows fell among us; to which our men,
now that there was no necessity for silence, sent back a yell of
defiance. Then came another and another flight, and with such rapidity
that, had we possessed fifty rounds of ammunition, we could not have
used them to advantage. All that we could do now was to remain kneeling
behind the sandbank, reserving our fire for one good, if but last,
opportunity of making each shot tell. The Balinese seemed to understand
our position, for we could hear them advancing through the water,
yelling and shouting. They were terrible sounds, the more so as they
were to us symbols of approaching death; but I had “screwed my courage
to the sticking point,” not with any hope of preserving my life, but
resolutely determined to die bravely. Onward they came--still onward;
the boats, which were now in front of the line with torches and arrows,
were grazing the shingles when Heaven itself seemed to have sent its
thunder to our aid, in the booming of guns. This was followed by
shrieks, yells, and a heavy splashing in the water. Then came another,
and another boom! and by three red lights at the mouth of the channel
we could see that help was at hand, for they hung from the prow and
masts of the prahu.
“Allah be praised!”
“Thank God! it is Kati.”
And as gun after gun was fired--clearing the water of our foes--the
gallant little vessel ran up the channel. Then, lighting our torches,
we clambered up the sides of the prahu, and were speedily embracing
Kati and my brother.
“By Jingo! Claud, old fellow, how lucky! we were but just in the nick
of time,” said Martin.
“Indeed, you have saved our lives by a minute,” replied I.
“It was the great guns, Claud. Did I not tell you they were meant for
fighting, and at last we have proved it.”
“But where did you find the prahu, Martin?”
“Oh, riding smartly away in a cove, out of sight of that Dutch grab,
which, by-the-by, Prabu, is upon the lookout for us. I wanted to fight
her, but old Kati wouldn’t have it.”
“We will give her plenty of sea-room as soon as possible,” answered
Prabu; and then, giving orders to run around the coast toward the
province of Japan, at the eastern extremity of the island, we--that
is, all that had been fighting upon the island--proceeded to regale
ourselves with the best of Kati’s stores.