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Trapped by Malays: A Tale of Bayonet and Kris, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 44. The Fisherman's Plan |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. THE FISHERMAN'S PLAN Peter's conclusion was only a guess, but it soon became evident that a fire was raging somewhere in the direction of the station. But this did not seem to trouble the two Malays, who shifted the position of the boat by pushing it clear of the trees, to one of which they secured the sampan so that it swung in the stream, while they rearranged the greenery that had been collected, and worked hard in the bright moonlight so as to give it some semblance of a market-boat carrying down supplies from higher up the river. This done to the satisfaction of the owner, whom Peter had been working hard to help, the lad uttered an apologetic cough. "Look here, Pete," said Archie impatiently; "if you are going to say that we had better remain in hiding on account of the moonlight and the glare of that fire, you had better be silent, for we must trust to these people to do what they think best." "I warn't a-going to say nothing of the sort, Mister Archie, sir," protested the lad. "Then what were you going to say? I know that that cough or grunt of yours means that you are going to object to something." "No, sir; it's not a object to anything unless you say I can't have it. I was only going to ask if Miss Minnie didn't say something about having fruit aboard this 'ere craft." "Yes, yes!" cried Minnie excitedly. "Well, miss," said Peter, with a sigh of relief, "if you won't think it rude of me, I should just like to say that Mister Archie here ain't had a mossel of nothing to eat since the day before yesterday, and PP ain't much better." "Oh Dula!" exclaimed Minnie; and she uttered a few words in the Malay tongue that sent the woman rustling past the cut boughs beneath the attap awning, to return directly and gladden the eyes of Peter with a basket containing a heap of bananas and a couple of native-made cakes. "Ah!" sighed Peter. "Don't they look lovely in the moonlight! Tlat!" he added, with a hearty smack of his lips.--"No, thank you, sir. No water, please," he continued, after a busy interval. "I never feel sure what you might be swallowing when you have a dip out of the river. It's all very well when the sun shines hot, but when it's the moon it don't make you thirsty--least it don't me." It must have been a couple of hours later, during which the occupants of the boat had been watching the rising and falling of the fire as they swung slowly to and fro at the end of the rope, when Minnie, who had been speaking in a whisper to the boatman and his wife, turned to her companions and said: "Pahan thinks that we may risk floating down the river now. The excitement of the fire will be pretty well over when we get abreast of the bungalow, and we have a long journey yet; and then if he makes the boat fast, as he says he can, at the foot of the garden, he thinks no one will notice it. But we shall have to lie hidden, and, if necessary, covered up with the boughs." The covering over with boughs fell to the share of the two lads, the shelter of the attap mats and her Malay dress seeming likely to be sufficient for Minnie's protection if they neared any Malay boat, that most dreaded being the naga whose occupants had been put to flight-- though even if that were encountered, the sampan was now so transformed that it was not likely to be recognised; and once more the little party were in motion, floating down towards the station, the Malay poling the boat and keeping as near as possible to the farther shore. _ |
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