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Trapped by Malays: A Tale of Bayonet and Kris, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 24. "R-A-A-A-Ah!" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. "R-A-A-A-AH!" Three weeks had passed away. Morning had come at last, and Archie Maine was beginning to breathe more freely, after passing a very bad night. For, as if it had scented an easy prey close at hand, a deep-voiced tiger had startled him from his watch about an hour before midnight by a deep-toned roar which had made the young subaltern stand half-paralysed for a few minutes, feeling as he did that there was nothing but the partly woven, fence-like wall of the big stable between him and the most savage beast that ranges the Eastern jungles. The lad was stout-hearted enough, but he could not help feeling that though the building was strong of its kind, it would prove but a frail defence against the mighty arms and tremendous claws of a furiously hungry tiger; and after the first shock he crept cautiously to the hiding-place of one of the spears and drew it out, to plant the butt against one retired foot and hold it with the keen blade about breast-high in the direction of the bamboo uprights and palm lath slats that were woven in and out in duplicate. That deep-toned roar was followed by a silence that was awe-inspiring in its way, and as Archie listened it seemed to him that he could hear the snuffling breathing of the savage animal that must have scented him during its rounds. That silence lasted about a quarter of an hour before it afforded some amount of encouragement to the listener. The loneliness was awful, for he was sure that he and his fellow-prisoner were correct in coming to the conclusion that very soon after sunset the sentry had crept silently away, this terrible roar suggesting itself as an explanation of the reason for the elephant-stable with its prisoners being left without a watcher during the night. Several times over, since he had been sufficiently recovered to sit wakefully chatting with Peter Pegg as to the best way of making their escape, he had heard snarling cries, shrieks that were thrilling enough in themselves, and which the two lads had set down to be the utterances of some ape that had been scented out and pounced upon by one of the cat-like creatures during its nocturnal search for prey. They had heard too, and rightly judged what were the authors of, other night cries, some of which, coming from a large kind of stork or crane that lurked upon the banks of the neighbouring river, were horrible and weird in their intensity. But though the jungle was supposed to contain plenty of tigers, it was only once that the prisoners had heard what they knew for certain to be the huge cat's roar. Archie felt that he would not have cared upon the present occasion if Peter Pegg had been by his side, and in imagination, as he stood with the lowered spear, he saw himself taking turns with the young private in stabbing at the savage beast as it was snarling, tearing, and trying to force its way through the tangled side of the big stable. But to do this alone, it seemed to him, would only result in irritating the beast and make it more furious at his efforts to drive the sharp blade into a vital part. "We might have settled it between us," he thought; and then, in the midst of the weird darkness, he shivered, for a fresh horrible thought assailed him, which made the palms of his hands grow damp and the moisture gather upon his brow. What did it mean--this savage monster making its way close up to his prison that night of all those that had passed? Could it be that it had tracked stealthily, after the habit of its kind, and pounced upon poor Peter Pegg, dragged him down, and hidden his body somewhere in the dense thicket, and now, guided by its keen scent, followed the flair to where he stood with the cold perspiration now beginning to trickle from his temples and the sides of his face? There was not another sound, and after a sturdy battle with his feelings, Archie began to force himself into the belief that it was his weakness that made him imagine that such a catastrophe had occurred. But all thought of sleep had passed away for that night. He felt it would be impossible, and he stood with every sense strained, listening for some movement; but it was quite an hour later, and after he had begun to feel overcome by weariness from standing so long in one position, that he took a deep breath and began to walk lightly up and down the building, fully expecting that the rustle of the palm-leaves would excite the tiger into some fresh demonstration of its proximity. But the beast made no sign, and beginning to indulge in the hope that after its roar it had crept stealthily and silently away upon its cushioned, velvet paws, he made his way to the stone jar, felt for the cocoa-nut, took a draught, and began to think of what had passed during these many weary days and nights of his struggle back towards recovery. There was not much to dwell upon, for it had been terribly monotonous, that time, and sadly punctuated with either mental or physical pain. The mental was all embraced in the one painful thought of Minnie Heath and what had been her fate; the physical was mingled with the pain caused during the healing up of the horrible contused wound above his temples; while when he had not been suffering from this he was burdened by a series of wearing headaches, which would wake him from a refreshing sleep somewhere about the middle of the night, and not die out again till just before it was light. Then day after day there had been the trumpeting sounds of the elephants shuffling by the prison on their way to water, the regular visits of one of their number, Peter's friend, to thrust in his trunk for a fresh supply of bread and fruit. The dwarfish little Malay whose task it seemed to be to drive the great beasts to their morning bath, from which they returned muddied and dripping, had twice over, to the recovering lad's knowledge, shouted at and tried to drive Peter's friend from the stable door, but on the second occasion he had been so nearly caught by the huge beast that he was satisfied to leave him to his own devices, and Rajah, as Peter had christened him, came and went as he pleased. Then, after the heat of the day had passed, the head keeper, as Peter called him, came with his followers to bring a fresh supply of their monotonous food and water; and it was he who, at irregular times, would come to change the sentry, peering through one of the holes to make sure that his prisoners were safe, and then going away as silently as he had come. All this was discussed, as Archie grew stronger, again and again by the two prisoners, and they came to the conclusion that they must be deeply buried in an out-of-the-way part of the jungle from which it would be impossible for them to escape, and that that was the reason for so little attention being paid to their security. "That's it, Pete," Archie had declared. "They know we can't get away, or else there would be more regularity about our guard, and whoever is on sentry would not disappear as soon as it is dark." Peter's answer repeated itself with additional force on this particular night of Archie's watch, for the lad had said, "They know 'tain't safe, sir. It's my belief that if the sentry kept guard there one night, he would never do it again." "Poor Peter!" thought Archie as, refreshed by his draught of water, he began slowly to pace the rustling floor again. "In such a silent night as this," he mused, "one's thoughts ought to flow easily enough, and I was hopeful that when he came back I should have hit out some better plan for our escape; but ever since that horrible night all power of thinking seems to have gone. Sometimes I do get fancying that the power is coming back, but it is only for me to seem weaker again, and--Oh, I wish I had not let him go! I am too cowardly now to be left alone, and--" _R-a-a-a-ah_! Archie started into his old position, for once more, apparently from close at hand, came the deep-toned, savage, snarling roar of some huge tiger that had approached the big stable without a sound, and in imagination Archie could see its fiery, glaring eyes distended with a gaze that seemed to pierce the woven wall, as, with the soft white fur of its under parts brushing the earth, it gathered itself up ready to dash like some living catapult clean through the frail partition to his very feet. "To impale itself, if I am lucky," thought Archie. And then the silence continued for what seemed to be an hour, before, in the hope that the monster had once more stolen away as silently as it had come, the young man once again ventured to recommence the duties of his lonely, rustling beat. And now again he was attacked by his former horrible dread. The imaginary picture was in all its force. Poor Peter must have been followed by the tiger and dragged down helplessly to a horrible death; and, yes--for it was all too clear--this was indeed the reason why they were not guarded at night. There was the temptation for them, had they known, to attempt to make what would seem to be an easy escape; but for what? One sudden blow from a tremendous paw--and death. The thought was sufficient to prostrate a man in the full vigour of his health and strength, and hence it was more than enough to cause a weak lad, slowly recovering from the fever and suffering from the shock of concussion and wound, to lean heavily upon the staff of the spear he held and feel at times that he should sink down in a heavy swoon. It was a terrible night--one which seemed as if it would never end; but he fought bravely on, proving in himself that hope springs eternal in the human breast, and driving back what he called to himself his coward thoughts, till at last, after twice more being startled by the coming of the tiger, he did sink down heavily amongst the rustling leaves, and buried his face in his hands, that had quitted their hold of the spear, to receive the quivering face that now lay motionless upon them. But it was no new coming of the enemy that had banished sleep and set every nerve pulsating before it seemed to lie weak and slack. It was one strange, twanging cry that he recognised at once as the call of the argus pheasant, far away in the jungle, and it meant so much--the fading away of the black darkness, and the glowing golden red of the rising sun to tell him ere long that it was morning and that the disturber of his would-be restful watch must have slunk away; and Archie Maine crouched there with his face still buried in his hands, quite sensible, for his lips were quivering and his breath coming and going more strongly, and causing a slight rustling of the dry leaves beneath. And then there was a whisper of thankfulness, as the lad now slowly rose from his knees with a weary sigh. _ |
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