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Middy and Ensign, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14. How Bob Roberts Made A Firm Friend |
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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. HOW BOB ROBERTS MADE A FIRM FRIEND Bob Roberts seized his sword and dashed to the window, leaping boldly out, and shouting for help; and as he did so he heard the bushes rapidly parted, the crackling of twigs on ahead, and then, as he neared the river in pursuit of the assailant, there was a loud splash, followed by the challenge of a sentry and the report of his piece. A brisk time of excitement followed, during which a thorough search was made, but no one was found; and it was evident that the spear had been thrown by an enemy who had come alone; but the incident was sufficient to create a general feeling of uneasiness at the residency. The sentries were doubled, and orders were given that the place should be carefully patrolled; for though the English were upon an island, the Malays were such expert swimmers that they could start up stream and let themselves float down to the head of the island and land. It was some few days before Bob Roberts was able to pay another visit to the residency, for he had been out twice with the steamer's boats, in search of the two escaped Malay prahus, each time on insufficient information; and after a weary pull through a winding mangrove creek, had come back without seeing them. Meantime the relations with the Malays were daily growing in friendliness. A brisk trade with the shore was carried on, and sampans from far up the river came laden with fruit, fish, and rice; some brought poultry, and green sugar-cane for eating; others cocoa-nuts, and quaint articles for barter. But somehow there was an uneasy feeling on the island, that though the sultan and his people were friendly, some of the rajahs detested the English, as being likely to put a stop to their piratical practices, the destruction of Rajah Gantang's stockade, while it gave plenty of satisfaction in some parts, being looked upon with disfavour in others. "Pretty well all right again, old man?" said Bob, sauntering in one day, to find the ensign reading. "Yes, I'm stronger by a good deal than I was," said Tom Long, holding out his hand. "No more limbings pitched in at the window, eh?" "No," said Tom Long with a slight shudder; "I hope that sort of thing is not going to happen again." "To which I say ditto," said Bob. "But I say, I know who pitched that spear at you." "You do?" "Yes, it was that Malay chap you offended with the durian." "Then he must be taken and punished." "First catch your brown hare, master officer of infantry," said Bob, smiling. "He won't set foot here again, depend upon it, unless he slinks in at night. By George, what a malicious lot they must be, to act like that!" "Yes, it's not pleasant," said Tom Long, with an involuntary shudder, as, in imagination, he saw the dark face of his enemy always on the watch for an opportunity to assassinate him. "I never finished my account of the trip to the sultan's," said Bob, at last. "Was there anything more to tell?" "Yes, one thing," replied Bob; "the best of the whole lot." "What was it?" "Don't get riled if I tell you." "Pooh! how can it rile me?" "Oh, I don't know; only it may. It was a proposal made by the sultan to Mr Linton." "Proposal! What proposal?" "Well, I'll tell you; only don't go into fits. It was after we'd been sitting smoking for a bit, and just before we were coming away. Master Sultan had shown us all his best things--his gold and silver, and his slaves, and the dingy beauties with great earrings, and bangles on their arms and legs, who have the honour of being his wives; and at last he said something to Mr Linton, who understands his lingo as well as you and I do French." "Well, but what did he propose?" said Long, eagerly. "I got to know afterwards from Captain Smithers," continued Bob, "that he said he had been thinking very seriously about his position in connexion with the English, and that he saw how a strong alliance would be best for all; that it would settle him in his government, and make it a very excellent match for the English, who would be able to get tin and rice from the sultan's people, and gold." "You're as prosy as an old woman," said Tom Long, impatiently. "Yes, it's an accomplishment of mine," said Bob coolly. "Well, as I was telling you, he said the proper thing was a very strong alliance; and the resident said we had already made one. He said he wanted a stronger one; and he thought the best thing would be for him to marry Miss Linton and her cousin, and then it would be all right." "Why, confound his insolence!" said Tom Long, starting up. "No, no, you must say something else," cried Bob. "I said that as soon as I heard it." "Did not Mr Linton knock him down?" cried Tom Long. "No, he did not. He heard him out, and said it must be a matter of consideration; and then we came away." "But it's monstrous!" cried Tom Long. "Of course it is," said Bob, coolly; "but don't you see it was of no use to break with the fellow at once. It was a case of diplomacy. We don't want to quarrel with Master Sultan Hamet: we want to keep friends." "But it was such an insult to the ladies!" "He looked as if he thought he was doing them an honour, Master Long, so it wouldn't have done to fall out with him. There, don't look so fierce, we've got a difficult game to play here, and our great point is not to quarrel with the Malays, unless we want spears thrown in at every dark window while we stay." Tom Long sat biting his nails, for Bob had touched him in a very tender part, and he knew it. In fact, the middy rather enjoyed his companion's vexation, for he had begun, since his memorable conversation with Miss Linton, to look upon his feelings towards her with a more matter-of-fact eye. "I shall have to get about at once," said Tom Long, speaking as if his weight in the scale would completely make Sultan Hamet kick the beam; but upon seeing the mirthful look in Bob Roberts' eye, he changed the subject, and began talking about how he longed to be out and about again. "I thought we should get no end of fishing and shooting out here," he said, "and we've had none as yet." "Get well, then, and we'll have a try for some," Rob suggested. "There must be plenty;" and with the understanding that the ensign was to declare himself fit to be off the doctor's hands as soon as possible, Bob Roberts returned to the steamer, and then finding it terribly close, he did what he had acquired a habit of doing when the weather was very hot, found a snug shady place on deck, and went off to sleep. That was very easy in those latitudes. Whether the sun shone or whether it was gloomy, black, and precursive of a thunder-storm, an European had only to sit down in a rocking chair, or swing in a hammock, and he went off into a delicious slumber almost on the instant. So far so good; the difficulty was to keep asleep; and so Bob Roberts found. He had settled himself in a low basket-work chair, beneath a stout piece of awning which shed a mellow twilight upon the deck, and loosening his collar, he had dropped off at once; but hardly was he asleep before "burr-urr-urr boom-oom-oom, boozz-oozz-oozz" came a great fly, banging itself against the awning, sailing round and round, now up, now down, as if Bob's head were the centre of its attraction, and he could not get farther away. Now it seemed to have made up its mind to beat itself to pieces against the canvas, and now to try how near it could go to the midshipman's nose without touching, and keeping up all the time such an aggravating, irritating buzz that it woke Bob directly. There was plenty of room for the ridiculous insect to have flown right out from beneath the awning and over the flashing river to the jungle; but no, that did not seem to suit its ideas, and it kept on with its monotonous buzz, round and round, and round and round. Half awake, half asleep, Bob fidgeted a little, changed his position, and with his eyes shut hit out sharply at his tormentor, but of course without effect. He turned over, turned back; laid his head on one side; then on the other; and at last, as the miserable buzzing noise continued, he jumped up in a rage, picked up a book for a weapon, and followed the fly about, trying to get a fair blow--but all in vain. He hit at it flying, settled on the canvas roof; on the arms of chairs, and on the deck, and twice upon a rope--but all in vain: the wretched insect kept up its irritating buzz, till, hot, panting, his brows throbbing with the exertion, Bob made a furious dash at it, and with one tremendous blow crushed it flat. The middy drew a long breath, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and, panting and weary, threw himself back in the chair, and closed his eyes. He was a clever sleeper, Bob Roberts. Like the Irishman who went to sleep for two or three days, when Bob went to sleep, he "paid attintion to it." In a few seconds then he was fast, and--truth must be told-- with his mouth open, and a very unpleasant noise arising therefrom. Vain hope of rest. Even as he threw himself back, a little many-legged creature, about two inches long, was industriously making its way over the deck towards where one of the middy's limbs lay outstretched, and in a few seconds it had mounted his shoe, examined it with a pair of long thin antenna, and then given the leather a pinch with a pair of hooked claws at its tail. Apparently dissatisfied, the long thin yellow insect ran on to the sleeper's sock, carefully examined its texture, tasted it with its tail, and still not satisfied, proceeded to walk up one of the very wide open duck trouser legs, that must have been to it like the entrance to some grand tunnel, temptingly inviting investigation. The insect disappeared; Bob snored, and there was the loud buzzing murmur of men's voices, talking drowsily together, when, as if suddenly electrified, Bob leaped up with a sharp cry, slapped his leg vigorously, and stood shaking his trousers till the long thin insect tumbled on to the white deck, and was duly crushed. "Scissors! how it stings!" cried Bob, rubbing the place. "O Lor'! what a place this is to be sure. Who the dickens can get a nod?" Bob Roberts was determined upon having one evidently, for having given the obnoxious remains another stamp, he took a look round, to see if any other pest, winged or legged, had been brought from the shore, and seeing nothing, he again settled himself down, gave a turn or two and a twist to get himself comfortable, ending by sitting with his legs stretched straight out, his head thrown back, and his nose pointed straight up at the awning. This time Bob went off fast asleep; his cap fell on to the deck, but it did not disturb him; and he was evidently making up for lost time, when a very industrious spider, who had made his home in the awning, came boldly out of a fold by a seam of the canvas, and with busy legs proceeded to examine the state and tension of some threads, which it had previously stretched as the basis of a web upon a geometrical plan, expressly to catch mosquitoes. Apparently satisfied, the spider set to work busily, its dark, heavy body showing plainly against the yellowish canvas; and in a very short time a main rope was attached to the roof, and the architect of fly-nets began slowly to descend, in search of a point to which the other end of the said main-stay could be attacked. Now fate had so arranged it, that the point exactly beneath the spider as it slowly descended was the tip of Bob Roberts' nose, and to this point in the course of a minute the insect nearly arrived. It may be thought that its next act would be to alight and fix its rope; but this was not so easy, for the soft zephyr-like breaths the middy exhaled drove the swinging architect to and fro. Now it came near, now it was driven away; but at last it got near enough to grasp at the sleeper's most prominent feature, just brushing it with its legs, and setting up an irritating tickling that made Bob snort and scratch his face. The spider swung to and fro for some seconds, and then there was another terrible tickle, to which Bob responded by fiercely rubbing the offending organ. The spider was driven to a distance by this; but it was back again directly, with its legs stretched out, tickling as before. Bob was not asleep, and he was not awake, and he could neither sink into oblivion, nor thoroughly rouse himself. All he could do was to bestow an irritable scratch at his nose, and the spider came back again. At last, spider or no spider, he dropped into a strange dreamy state, in which he believed that Tom Long came and loomed over him on purpose to bend down and tickle him, out of spite and jealousy, with the long thin feather from a paroquet's tail. "Don't! Bother!" said Bob, in his sleep; but the tickling went on, and he felt ready to leap up and strike his tormentor; but he seemed to be held down by some strange power which kept him from moving, and the tickling still went on. Then he could hear voices talking, and people seemed to be about, laughing at and enjoying the trick that was being played upon him; and then he started into wakefulness, for a voice exclaimed,-- "Come, Mr Roberts, are you going to wake up?" It was Lieutenant Johnson who spoke; and on the middy jumping up, he found standing by him, with the lieutenant, the dark-faced youth who had met them and acted as guide on the occasion when they made their first visit to the sultan's home. He was dressed similarly to the way in which he made his first appearance before the English party; that is to say, he wore the silken jacket and sarong of the Malay chiefs, with a natty little embroidered cap, set jauntily upon his head like that of a cavalry soldier; but in addition he wore the trousers, white shirt-front, and patent leather boots of an Englishman, and the middy saw that he had a gold albert chain and straw-coloured kid gloves. "This gentleman is the son of the Tumongong of Parang, Mr Roberts," said the lieutenant, "and he has come on board to see the ship. Take him round and show him everything, especially the armoury, and let him understand the power of the guns. Captain Horton wishes it." The lieutenant looked meaningly at the middy, who saluted, and then nodded his head in a way that showed he comprehended his task. "The skipper wants these people to know that it is of no good to try and tackle us," thought Bob. "Yes, sir," he said aloud, "I'll take him round;" and then the lieutenant, who had been interrupted in a nap, saluted the young chief; who salaamed to him gravely, and the two young men were left alone, gazing straight at one another, each apparently trying to read the other's thoughts. "This is a jolly nice sort of a game," said Bob to himself! "How am I to make him understand? What a jolly fool old Johnson is. Now, my sun-brown-o cockywax, comment vous portez-vous? as we say in French. Me no understandy curse Malay's lingo not at all-oh. Bismillah! wallah! Come oh! and have a bottle oh! of Bass's ale oh!" "With much pleasure," said the young Malay, laughing. "I am thirsty." Bob Roberts turned as red as a turkey-cock with vexation. "What! Can you understand English?" he stammered. "Rather!" was the reply. "I couldn't make out all you said--not quite," he added, laughing meaningly. "Oh! I say, I am sorry," said Bob frankly. "I didn't know you could understand a word." "It's all right," said the young Malay, showing his white teeth, and speaking fair idiomatic English, though with a peculiar accent. "I've been a great deal at Penang and Singapore. I like English ways." "I say, you know," cried Bob, holding out his hand, "it was only my fun. I wouldn't have chaffed you like that for a moment if I had thought you could understand." "No, I suppose not," said the young Malay. "Never mind, I wanted to see you. That's why I came. Where's the young soldier?" "What Tom--I mean Ensign Long?" "Yes, En-sign Long." "Knocked up. Ill with his wound. He got hurt up the river." "I did not know it was he," said the young Malay. "Poor fellow!" "He was in an awful state," said Bob. "Got a kris through his shoulder, and thought it was poisoned." "What, the kris? Oh, no. That is nonsense. Our people don't poison their krises and limbings. The Sakais poison their arrows." "The whiches?" said Bob. "The Sakais--the wild people of the hills and jungle. Naked--wear no clothes." "Yes," said Bob drily. "I knew naked meant wearing no clothes. So you Malay folks are not savages, but have got savages somewhere near." "Savages? wild people," said the young man, with a little flush appearing through his tawny skin. "The Malay chiefs are gentlemen. We only are simple in our ways and living." "Oh! that's it, is it?" said Bob. "Well, come and have this drop of Bass. I can't stand fizz." "Fizz?" said the visitor; "what is fizz?" "Champagne." "Oh, yes! I know; frothing, bubbling wine, with a pop cork." "Yes, that's it," said Bob, grinning, "with a pop cork;" and leading the way below, he got a bottle of Bass and a couple of glasses, which they sat down and discussed. "Have a cigar?" said the young Malay, producing a handsome French-made case. "Thanky," said Bob. "What are these? Manillas?" "No; from Deli, in Sumatra," said his visitor. And then they lit-up by the open window of the gun-room, and sat and smoked for a few minutes in silence, each watching the other. "I say," said Bob at last, "this is jolly rum, you know. Why you are quite an Englishman, young fellow." "I like English ways," said the young chief, flushing; "some of them. If I were sultan, I'd take to all the best English customs, and make them take the place of all our bad ones. Then we should be great." "Yes," said Bob; "I suppose so." "Ah," said the young man, sadly, "you laugh. But I could improve our people." "Yes, of course," said Bob, hastily. "Now come and see round the ship." "No, no, let us sit and talk," said the young Malay. "I have seen plenty of ships. I know all about them." "Just as you like," said Bob. "Then let's go and sit on deck, under the awning. It's awfully hot here." "You think it hot?" "Yes; don't you?" said Bob. "No, not at all," said the young Malay, smiling; and rising he followed the middy on deck. "That's better," said Bob; "sit down in that cane chair. I say, what's your name?" "Ah; what is yours?" "Robert Roberts; commonly known to my intimates as Bob." "Intimates? what are intimates?" "Best friends," said Bob. "Yes, I understand. May I be an intimate?" "To be sure you may," said Bob, holding out his hand, which the other eagerly grasped. "But no larks, you know." "Larks! what is larks?" said Ali, eagerly. "I mean, no sticking that kris of yours into a fellow on the sly." "Nonsense! What bosh!" cried the young Malay. "Bosh, eh?" said Bob, laughing. "I say, Master Ali, you are civilised, and no mistake. It is only our very educated people who say _Bosh_!" "You took the word from us," said the young Malay. "Bosh is good eastern language, and means _nothing_." "I've heard it was Turkish," said Bob, drily. "Well, Turkish; the language of Roum. We look upon the Sultan of Roum and Stamboul as our greatest chief." "Oh, I say," cried Bob; "I can't stand this, you know. I thought you were a young Malay chief, and you are talking like a professor. Look here, Ali, is there any good fishing here?" "Yes, oh yes. I'll take you in my boat, and my men shall catch plenty." "No, no," said Bob. "You take me in the boat, and I'll catch the fish. But is there any shooting?" "Shooting!" said the young Malay, laughing; "everything; bird that flies, bird that swims, tigers, buffalo, deer." "Where?" cried Bob, excitedly. "In the great forest--the jungle. Will you come?" "Will I come?" cried Bob. "Won't I! I say," he went on, excitedly, "you can't shoot, can you?" "I practise sometimes," said the young Malay, quietly. "What with? A blow-pipe?" "Yes, I can use the sumpitan," said the young Malay, nodding; "but I use a revolver or a rifle." "I believe I'm half asleep," muttered Bob. "Haven't got a gun, have you?" "Yes; an English gentleman changed with me. I gave him ivory and gold, and he gave me his double gun." "Not a breechloader?" said Bob. "Yes, a breechloader--a Purdey he called it, and a bag of cartridges." "Oh, I say," cried Bob; "this is rich, you know. I am sorry I was such an idiot with you at first. But do you mean it? If I get a day ashore, will you take me where there's some good shooting?" "Oh, yes, plenty;" was the reply. Bob Roberts was thoughtful for a few moments. "I say," he said at last, "I wish Tom Long were here." "En-sign Long?" said Ali. "Yes. He's a very cocky fellow, you know; but he's a good one at bottom." "Should I like him?" "Yes, when you got to know him; but he only shows some fellows his clothes." "I don't want to see his clothes," said Ali, smiling. "I mean, some people never get to know what's inside him," said Bob. "What is 'inside him'?" said Ali, whom these mysteries of the English tongue somewhat puzzled. "Do you mean what he has had to eat?" "No, no;" said Bob, laughing. "I mean his heart." "Show people his heart?" said Ali, thoughtfully. "Oh yes, I see; I understand. You mean he is cold outside, and proud, and does not show people what he really thinks--like a Malay?" "Yes, that's what I mean," said Bob, smiling. "But that's like a Malay, is it? They say one thing, and mean another, do they?" "Yes," said Ali, gravely--"to their enemies--to the people who try to cheat, and deceive them. To their real friends they are very true, and full of faith. But it is time now that I should go." "I say, though, stop a minute," said Bob sharply. "Are your people really good friends to us?" "Yes," said the visitor, "I hope so. I believe so. They are strange at first, and do not like English ways, like I. Afterwards they will do the same as I do. Good-bye." "But about our shooting?" said Bob. "May I bring Tom Long?" "I should like to know En-sign Long. He is very brave, is he not?" "Pretty bobbish, I believe," said the middy. "Is he bobbish, too, like you. Are you not Bob Bobbish?" "No, no, I'm Bob Roberts," said the middy, laughing. "I mean, Tom Long is as brave as most fellows." There was a short consultation then as to time and place of meeting; after which the young Malay passed over the side into his boat, rowed by four followers, and was quickly pulled ashore. _ |
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