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The Rajah of Dah, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. Ned Is Obstinate |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. NED IS OBSTINATE Tim acted his part well. He strolled out from his "panthry," and sauntered along to where the chief of the guard stood gazing at him sternly; and trusting to the pretty good smattering of Malay he had picked up, he said quietly: "Going to be on guard all night?" The Malay nodded. "Sorry for you," said Tim, beginning to fill his pipe. "I did six months' soldiering myself when I was a mere lad, and it was hard work keeping awake on sentry-go." He struck a match and lit his pipe, lighting up the scowling face of the guard and his own good-humoured phiz. "I say," he continued, "next boat you gentlemen overhaul, look sharp after the matches, if they've brought any up from Malacca, for we're getting short, and I don't care to take to the flint and steel." Tim nodded and went on, smoking, to make the round of the place, stopping to say a word or two to the other armed men in his easy good-tempered way, seasoning his remarks with a joke or two, while the lightning flickered in a bank of black clouds across the river. By degrees he made his way back to the head-man, and began to talk confidentially. "I say," he said, "I suppose we shall all be big people now, when the rajah has married me young lady." The Malay laughed softly, contemptuously. "Oh yes," he said. "Perhaps he'll make you Muntrie or Tumongong." "Get out, making fun of a boy," said Tim, good-humouredly. "Well, good-luck to you, I've nearly finished my pipe. I'm tired, and going in to sleep. Take care of us. Good-night." The Malay wished him good-night, and Tim turned to go, but stopped and pulled out his pouch. "Have a bit o' tibakky!" he said. "It's the master's. Some the rajah gave him." The Malay nodded eagerly, and Tim gave him two or three pipefuls. "Here," he said, "I've got a lot. The master don't like it, and tells me to help myself. I'll fetch a bit for the other boys." Tim lounged off, and at the end of a few minutes, with a small basket made of thin strips of bamboo, and still smoking, sauntered up to the head-man. "Call 'em up," he said, in a low voice. "Don't talk loud; they've not gone to bed yet indoors." The Malay gave Tim a peculiar searching look, but the Irishman was tapping the ash out of his pipe and putting it in his pocket, after which he took a brass box from the basket just as the Malay uttered a low guttural sound, and his men stole up silently one by one. "Whisht!" said Tim. "Tibakky;" and he divided about half the contents of the box, the leaf being eagerly received and deposited in a fold of the sarong. "Whisht!" said Tim again, after a stealthy glance back at the house, and putting the tobacco back, he drew out a bottle. "Will you drink the new ranee's health?" His question was received in utter silence. "No!" said Tim. "I thought you wouldn't, and I'm sorry for your religion. Well, I will. Long life to my darling young misthress!" He took out the cork, passed his hand over the top of the bottle, and then applying it to his lips, took a long gurgling draught, swallowing pretty well a pint before he lowered the flask, the Malays gazing longingly at him as he drank. "I'm sorry for you, boys," said Tim; "for that's a drop of good stuff," and he replaced the bottle. "But, look here," he said, with a laugh, "left from up-stairs;" and holding up the basket, he took out a cake or sweet of the kind cleverly concocted by the Malay women, and began to eat. "Any one do a bit in this way!" he continued, with his mouth full. If he had offered the bottle now, they would have drunk from it to a man, and after a momentary pause the chief of the guard took a cake from the basket, broke off a scrap, removed his betel-nut, tasted the sweet, took a good bite, and uttered a low guttural order; which resulted in each man taking a cake, the last man growing excited from the belief that they would not go round; but there was just one each, and the head-man spoke again, with the result that his men went back to their posts eating greedily, while Tim stood in the darkness trembling with excitement. "Well," he said, fearing to betray himself; "now then for my snooze. Good-night!" The Malay laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Stop!" he said, "let me taste from the bottle." "Don't apologise," said Tim, wilfully misunderstanding him. "I was always the man to respect any one who stood by his religion, and so was my mother before me. Good-night." Tim turned into the house. "Oh, murther," he muttered, returning to his own tongue; "the wine might have shpoilt the docthor's rat poison. What an eshcape!" "Well?" whispered Mr Braine and the doctor in a breath, as Tim appeared looking white and scared. "Oh, they've tuk it, ivery mother's son of thim, gintlemen; an' if they all die, docthor, don't go and say it was me doing when I'm not here." "Die? Nonsense!" "Oh no, it isn't, sor, and I've made a dhreadful mistake." "Mistake? Failed?" cried Mr Braine, horrified. "Sure no, sor, I haven't failed; I've succayded too much." "But you said you had made a mistake, man." "Yes, sor. I tuk wan of the cakes meself." The announcement was received with a blank look of despair. "Sure sor, don't stand looking at me loike that, please. Thin aren't ye going to give me an anecdote?" "No antidote would be available, my poor fellow. But how could you make such a blunder? I showed you so carefully." "Sure ye did, sor, but I was a bit flurried." "You ate a cake?" "Oh yes, sor," said Tim, dismally. "I ate wan, and I didn't taste the shtuff till it was down." "But you couldn't taste it, man." "Sure, sor, but I did quite sthrong," groaned Tim, sinking on one of the divans. "But tell me, how do you feel?" "Horrid bad, sor; shlapy, and it's creeping up me legs. Ye'll have to carry me or lave me behind." "Whatever can we do?" said Mr Braine. "Perhaps exertion and the night air will revive him," said the doctor. "I'll give him something too." He hastily mixed a draught, which Tim drank gratefully, and then lay back with Frank supporting his head. "How long will it be before the potion acts on the men?" said Mr Braine. "Very few minutes before it begins, but of course not on all alike. Some one must steal down and watch." "I'll go," said Frank, and creeping down to the lower rooms--the sheds used by the women and Tim--he stood close to the door, and then by degrees from bush to bush, on and on, till in less than half an hour he was back with the expectant group. "They are all sleeping heavily," he said. "How is Tim?" His father pointed to the divan, where the man lay apparently insensible, with Mr Greig bathing his head. "It is all over," said Braine, sadly; "we cannot leave the poor fellow." "Oh!" cried Frank, dashing at the man and shaking him violently. "All right. Moind me head, Masther Frank! I'm ready, sor." "Can you walk?" "Can I walk? Hark at him," said Tim, drowsily. "I'll show ye all." "Here, we'll try," said Mr Braine. "Take these. Put the revolver in his breast. Can you carry a gun, man?" "For sartain," said Tim, stupidly. "Then ready. Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Mr Braine. "Lead the way, Frank, and if we by chance are separated, every one is to make for the tall clump of trees this side of the stockade." "And chirp like this," said Frank, imitating a bird. "That will bring the boat." "Then forward. Not a word." They stepped out on to the veranda, and gazed down into the black darkness, with the lightning still quivering and flickering in the distance. All was perfectly still in the garden for a few moments, and then there was a heavy stertorous breathing, which sounded louder as they descended and passed quickly on down to the gate; Tim staggering a little, but keeping step for step with the doctor, who supported him by the arm. Frank led as he had been instructed, and heard the heavy breathing to right and left; but it was not until he reached the entrance that he really came in contact with the guards, for there lay one right across the path, and another had his arms folded on the bamboo top rail of the gate, and hindered further progress. To step over the prostrate man was easy, but this other completely barred the way. Frank waited till his father came up, and he heard him draw his breath heavily, and stand thinking. "We cannot stand over trifles now," said Mr Braine. "Desperate remedies are our only hope;" and, after hesitating a moment or two, he gently passed his arm round the soft lithe body of the Malay, lifted him from the gate, and let him sink to the ground beside his companion. Those were critical moments, and all looked on trembling; but the man only muttered a little, and, with a heavy sigh, went off into a deeper sleep. The party stood listening for a few moments, and then started for the stockade, in and out among houses and gardens, where all was silent save the occasional cackle and movement of the game-fowls many of the people kept. Twice they heard voices, but the place seemed to be pretty well plunged in slumber, and, with his spirits rising moment by moment, Frank hurried on, with Amy close behind him, till the houses were left behind without a soul being encountered; but now, as they neared the river, there were other dangers to fear. Of the reptiles Frank thought little. The danger was from the naga that was always patrolling the stream night and day, especially the former, on the look-out for trading vessels trying to slip by in the darkness and in the silence of the night. Knowing how sound travelled, he was in agony lest there should be word or whisper to excite the Malays' suspicion. But fortune favoured them. He caught sight of the dark hulls of the prahus, but the boat was invisible, and as Frank crept on along the river-bank listening to the strange sighings and splashings of the river, he at last made out the great tree beneath which he had rescued Ned from a horrible death, and a quarter of a mile farther on, through the wet untrampled shore-growth, where twice over he heard the rushing and splash of some reptile, he paused by a thick bed of reeds and grass, with bushes overhanging the river's edge. Here he stopped till the others joined him--Tim still staggering on with the doctor's help--and then moved forward again by a tall palm. He listened, and everything but the splashing of fish and reptiles was still. There was no dipping of oar or creak of bamboo against wood. Suddenly a low chirping sound rose from the midst of the party, and was answered from a dozen yards distant. Then came the rustling of some one forcing his way through the bushes, and Ned stood among them, silently grasping hand after hand. "I was afraid they'd got you, Frank," he said. "No; it's all right." "But where's my uncle?" There was silence, and then Mr Braine explained their position. "I see," said Ned, firmly; "but we cannot stir from here without him." "No; we are going to get him out at any cost." "How?" said Ned. "Hist! speak lower," whispered Mr Braine. "Drop down in the boat to the point nearest his house, and there part of us land." "But you say he is guarded." "Yes. The case is desperate. But, first of all, let's get on board." "No," said Ned; "you are going to forsake him. I will not go." "I give you my word as a gentleman, sir," said Mr Braine, coldly. Ned said no more, but acting as guide, led the way down to the boat, where, with Hamet's help, the ladies, arms, and ammunition were placed on board, and they all followed after, literally rolling Tim in over the side, to lie perfectly helpless at the bottom. "Safe so far," said Mr Braine, as they crouched together in the fore-part, while the ladies were under the thatch awning shivering with dread. "Catch hold, Ned. You too, Hamet," whispered Frank, who, remembering his own sufferings, thrust some food into the fasting pair's hands. "Now," said Mr Braine, "there is no better plan. About three hundred yards below the big tree, by that cluster of palms." "The prahus are near there," said Frank. "A full hundred yards lower, boy," said his father. "You lads will keep the boat while we land." "I am coming too," said Ned. "No," whispered Mr Braine, angrily. "Take my orders, and keep the way of retreat open for us." "I am not going to leave my uncle in that danger without coming to help," said Ned, stubbornly. "Then come," said Mr Braine, angrily, but admiring the boy's determination all the same. "Now then, revolvers only, and they are only to be used if cunning fails. How many do we muster if it comes to a fight?" "Hamet will come, father," said Frank. "To save master? Yes," said the Malay, quietly. "Four, Ned five," said Mr Braine. "Oh, if that poor fellow had not made the mistake. He is brave as--as--" "An Irishman," said the doctor. "Yes, as an Irishman or a Scot." "But I don't think he's so very bad, father," whispered Frank.--"Here, I say, Tim. There's a fight." "Foight? Eh!" said Tim, struggling up, and rubbing his eyes. "Hush! whisper." "But who said there was going to be a foight?" "I did." "Where? Come on!" "Hush! Don't speak so loud. He's right enough, father." "Then push the boat carefully out of this wilderness, and in Heaven's name let's go." Hamet unfastened a rattan line, and the boat began to glide downward at once, with bush and leaf scratching and rustling against side and thatch, till they were clear of the dark vegetable tunnel into which it had been thrust the previous morning. Then taking a pole, the Malay punted it along close in-shore, thrusting the metal-shod staff quietly down till, when they had gone about a hundred yards in the profound darkness beneath the trees, the point struck on something hard, when instantly there was a tremendous eddying swirl, the boat rocked, and Hamet said quietly, "Crocodile." A couple of minutes later Mr Braine pointed to the spot where he wished to land, and the boat was cleverly brought in close to the bank, here so steep that it lay invisible from the shore, the overhanging boughs hiding it from any one upon the river. "Now, Frank," whispered his father, "there must be absolute silence. Not a word must be spoken. You and Mr Greig must keep the boat. You will be sure to hear us coming, so stand ready to cast off." "Yes, father." "Right," said Greig. "And if matters come to the worst, let the boat drop down the river. Save the ladies, and try to get help." "Yes, father," said Frank huskily. "Are you going to tell them what you are about to do?" "No. Now then, ashore! Quick!" One of the first to step quickly and silently out of the boat was Tim, and a minute later the boat-keepers saw the party disappear into the darkness; and then Frank sat there listening to a faint sigh or two, the rippling of the water beneath the boat, and trying to make out the shape of the nearest prahu. _ |
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