Читать книгу Trapped by Malays: A Tale of Bayonet and Kris - George Manville Fenn - Страница 20

Private Smithers had not long to wait, for as the glow of the burning cigar came nearer he challenged, the customary interchange took place, and then Archie Maine took up the conversation with—

“Who’s that? You, Smithers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I say, you have got a lonely watch here to-night. Heard any crocodiles?”

“Heerd any crocodiles, sir? Just you listen!”

“My!” exclaimed Archie.—“I say, Down, why, it can’t be those reptiles, is it? What a row!”

“There’s no mistake about it,” said the Captain. “Why, they must be having a party.” For the wallowing and splashing grew louder than ever.

“Here, I know what it is,” cried Archie merrily. “They can smell Private Smithers here. He’s such a big, well-fed chap that they have gathered together for a feast.”

“Yes, sir; that’s it,” said the man.

“But they haven’t been going on like this before, have they?”

“Just as bad, sir, all the time; and every now and then one of them barks at me just like a wolf.”

“Just like a wolf?” said the Captain. “What do you know about wolves? You never kept a wolf.”

“No, sir. They are not the sort of things I should like to make a pet dog on; but I’ve heerd them lots of times in Canady heigh-ho where they chase the buffalo.”

“Ah, to be sure. You have been in the regiment longer than I have. Well, these brutes are going it! Why, Maine, we ought to have brought our guns and had some shooting.”

“Too dark to see them.”

“Why, what a noise! And they have been going on like this all the time you have been on duty?”

“Yes, sir; it’s been precious cheerful.”

“But what have you done?”

“Oh, just kep’ on the move, sir, so as to baffle them a bit when they seemed disposed to come ashore and join one.”

“But surely you haven’t seen any of them come ashore?”

“Well, sir, to be downright honest, it’s been too dark to see ’em; but I’ve seemed to feel one of ’em crawling ashore now and then; and then I always went right to the end of the beat, so as to get as far off as I could.”

“I say, Down, this is horrible!” said Archie.

“Thank you, sir,” said the man. “It ain’t been nice.”

“Nice—no!” said the Captain. “It seems like planting a sentry to act as a bait to draw the brutes ashore.”

“I don’t think, however, that they would attack a man who was on the alert,” said Archie.

“I shouldn’t like to risk it,” said the Captain, “however much I were on the alert.”

“But the Doctor says from long experience he never knew them attack any one moving about. Of course he says he wouldn’t answer for the life of a man who was lying asleep close to the river’s edge, and we know that they will pull in a woman bathing, or who has waded in to draw water.”

“Yes,” said the Captain, “I can answer for that. Why, they will seize an ox that has walked in to drink. But this is not right. The Major would be angry if he knew of a single sentry being stationed so close to the water as this on a dark night.—Look here, Smithers; move in yonder a bit—up to that hut we just passed. You can well command the landing-place from there, I think?”

“Yes, sir; thank you, sir. No boat could land there without my hearing and seeing it.”

“Well, then, move up there; and when Sergeant Ripsy comes to relieve guard, tell him I changed your position, and that a sentry must not be posted here again on a dark night.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the private. “It has been awful, sir.”

“Awful—yes, my lad. Well, we are three of us now, but I don’t feel at all eager to stay. However, you will be quite safe there—eh, Maine?”

“Oh yes. The heavy, lumbering brutes are not likely to travel up there.—Seen or heard anything else, Smithers?”

“No, sir. I shouldn’t think anybody else would want to come.”

The officers stood talking to the man a few minutes, and then turned off to return to their quarters, while Private Smithers hugged himself with satisfaction as he picked up the still burning half-cigar the officer had thrown away, carefully put it out, and deposited it in his cartridge-box.

“You will do to cut up fine for finishing in a pipe to-morrow, my jockey,” he said.

He stood listening till the faint sounds of his visitors’ voices had completely died away, and then he settled himself by the hut.

“This is jolly,” he muttered. “One’s safe enough here. That’s a capital lookout, for one quite looks down on the water. Yes; no boat could come up here without my hearing it, and I should see any one paddling along. Well, I will say this: our officers are gentlemen, and never want you to do anything that they wouldn’t do theirselves. Glad the Captain was there too, for I don’t suppose Mr. Archie Maine would have ventured to change my place. But I do know what he would have done. I’d bet anybody sixpence, if there was anybody here to bet with and I’d got one, that he’d have stopped to keep me company and—I’m blessed! What’s that?”

The man was standing beneath the spreading eaves of the palm-tree and bamboo hut, quite sheltered by the darkness, and he turned his head on one side to listen, for quite plainly from somewhere up the river, and apparently right under the bank on the other side, he heard the sound of paddles, as if a big boat were approaching.

“Why, I shouldn’t wonder,” he thought to himself, “if that boat has been hanging about there waiting till there was no one on the shore. Blessed if I don’t think they heard us talking and fancy our officers have took the sentry away. Well, I shall jolly soon know. How rum! It must be a big boat; and it’s scared the crocs away, for I can’t hear them a bit now. All right; I’m ready for you, whoever you are. Not fire, eh? But I’ll tell ’em I will if they don’t give up. I wonder who it is. Only fishermen perhaps; but it will give one something to do.”

He drew himself a little closer beneath the projecting attap roof, which extended three or four feet over the sides of the hut, and then felt startled, for suddenly there fell upon his ears, evidently coming from somewhere inland, a rustling sound of footsteps, accompanied by the hard breathing of some one suffering from over-exertion.

“Boat coming ashore! Some one coming down to the landing-place! What does this ’ere mean?” muttered the sentry. “Well, it’s only one;” and he peered carefully from his shelter, trying to make out the approaching figure.

But it was too dark, and he waited a full minute before stepping out boldly; and his rifle gave a loud click, click, as he cried:

“Halt! Who goes there?”

His answer was a sharp half-cry, half-gasp of astonishment, and the loud breathing became quite a pant, like that of an excited dog.

“Here—yes—it—is—all right,” came in rather a high-pitched voice, the accents being those of one not fully accustomed to the English language.

“Well, what’s the word?” cried Smithers, who, with his piece presented, found himself close up now to a slight man of middle height, wearing a sun-hat, dressed in knickerbockers, and apparently having a fishing-creel slung from one shoulder, something like a tin case from the other.

“The—the—word?” he answered.

“Yes. What’s the word?”

“Oh yes; it is all right,” faltered the new-comer, with a half-laugh. “I was just going down to my boat. What a dark night!”

“Oh yes, it’s dark enough,” growled Smithers; “but what’s the word?”

“The word? Oh yes. Good-night—good-night.”

“Halt, I tell you!” cried the sentry in a deep tone. “That’s not the password.”

“Oh no; but that does not matter, my good friend. I tell you I am going down to the pier to my boat, which is waiting for me.”

“Rum time to be going to meet a boat,” growled Smithers; “and there’s no boat waiting there. Can’t you hear? They are paddling away down-stream as hard as eater they can.”

The stranger uttered a sharp ejaculation of impatience.

“Oh, this is foolish—absurd!” he exclaimed; and his hands began to busy themselves about his waist.

Private Smithers might have been the worst man in his company, but somehow drill had made him a keen soldier and a good sentry.

“Hands up,” he cried sharply, “or I fire!”

“Oh!” cried his visitor sharply, “don’t be so foolish. Did you think I was going to do something?”

“Yes, with a revolver, whoever you are. I nearly drew trigger, and you not two yards away.”

“Oh!” said the stranger, with a gasp. “It is foolish nonsense, and you have frightened away my rowing-men. Don’t you know me?”

“No.”

“I am a stranger. I come out in the forest to-night to collect the beautiful moths—butterflies, you call them. I have some in this case.”

“It’s all dark,” said Smithers sourly. “Gammon! No one can see to catch butterflies at night.”

“Ha-ha! You are a wise man. You English are so sharp. Look; I will show you.”

“You had better mind what you are doing, sir, or my rifle may go off.”

“What do you think of me, my friend? See here. There are many great, beautiful butterfly moths here in this grand forest.”

“Yes; and if you come when the sun shines, with a net, you can catch lots.”

“Yes; and I come at night. I put sugar on the trees. The foolish moths fly round to eat; and then I open this little lanterrne, which is not burning now, and then I see to catch the beautiful moths.” As Smithers’s visitor spoke, he tapped the dimly seen tin case slung under his right arm. “If I had time I should show you, sir. But my boat is waiting. I go down to the pier place and hold up my hand. My men see me, and come and take me off.”

“And all in the dark, mister,” said the sentry in his gruffest tones. “But you are not going down to the pier place to hold up your hand, and your boatmen are not coming to take you off.”

“I do not see what you mean, sir. I say they do come to take me off.”

“Oh, do you?” growled Smithers. “And I say they don’t come to take you off, because my orders are to let no boat come in; and what’s more, you are my prisoner.”

“Your prisonare, sir!” cried the visitor. “You make joke.”

“Oh no, that’s no joke, mister,” said Smithers. “That’s only obeying orders.”

“But, sir, I insist. I desire to go much.”

“Can’t help it, sir.”

“Then what go you to do? You dare to say you shoot at me?”

“No, sir; not unless you try to run away. My orders would be to stop you, and I should fire at your legs; and it might hurt you very much. But whether it did or whether it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t run any more to-night.”

“Sir,” said the visitor pompously, “you talk like madness. If you do not let me go down to my boat I shall report you to your officer.”

“Yes, sir; that’s what I mean you to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“He will be here by-and-by to relieve guard, and then you can say what you like, and he will take you to our Major.”

“What! Faith of a gentleman, this man is too much mad! But there, I forget myself. You like a glass of rack-ponch?”

“Yes, sir, I like it.”

“Then I have none here; but I have in my pocket a Chinese dollar. It is worth shillings. You get many glasses of rack-ponch. You take it?” and as he spoke he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out in the darkness a broad piece.

“It won’t do,” said Smithers. “You will be only getting me into more trouble, mister.”

“You will not take it?”

“Not me.”

“Then I shall keep it and spend it myself.” With a good deal of gesticulation the speaker thrust the coin back into his pocket, and gave it a heavy slap. “Now, you say to me that my boat is gone, and you say that my men could not see me if I hold up my hand?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Very well. You are very clever, but I know also two or three things. I shall go down to the pier, and call out to my men, ‘Ahoy!’ and then go into the water and swim till they pick me up and put me in a dry place in the boat. Now, what do you say to that?”

“Only this, mister. What do you think your men, if they come, will pick up?”

“Me—myself, sir, with my butterfly moths and my little lanterrne.”

“Ho!” said Smithers dryly. “And what about the crocs?”

“I do not understand.”

“I see you don’t,” said the sentry. “What about the great crocodiles that have been waiting about there all night?”

“The crocodile!” said the visitor; and it was not light enough to see, but the stranger’s jaw dropped, and he remained silent till Smithers spoke again.

“Understand that, mister?”

“Yes; you say that to frighten me. You talk one minute about using your fusil to shoot me, and I am not afraid. Then you say you throw me to the crocodile, and still I am not afraid.”

“Then look ye here,” said Smithers, “you just give me that little pistol thing you were going to pull out.”

“What! Sir, I re-fuse.”

Smithers stuck the mouth of his rifle against the stranger’s breast-bone, and pressed upon it heavily.

“Sit down,” he said.

“I will not sit down! I re-fuse.”

“Mind,” said Smithers. “I don’t want this rifle to go off.”

“You dare—you dare not shoot,” cried the visitor; but as he spoke he began to subside slowly, as if still mentally resisting, till the sentry raised his foot quickly, gave a sharp thrust, and his prisoner went down suddenly upon his back, with the sentry’s right foot upon his chest.

“Now then, no nonsense. Hand up that pistol.”

The prisoner’s hand went rapidly to his waist as if with the intent of snatching out and making use of his revolver, but quick as a flash the sentry’s rifle was pressed down harder now, close up to the man’s throat.

“That’s right,” said Smithers. “Now drop it.”

There was a few moments’ hesitation, and then the revolver fell softly upon the earth just beyond the shelter of the attap mat.

The next moment Smithers had raised his foot and kicked the pistol aside, but with an unexpected result, for one chamber exploded with a loud bang.

“I’ve done it now,” said Smithers to himself. “As for you, you lie still;” and he held his piece pointing still towards his prisoner while he cleverly retrieved the revolver. “Look here,” he said, “I had orders not to fire, only if it was wanted particular. Well, I haven’t fired, but they will hear that shot and be coming down before you know where you are.”

“What!” cried the prisoner, starting up in a sitting position.

“Look ye here,” cried Smithers; “do you want me to have an accident?”

“No, no; I want you to let me give you many dollars. You must let me go before your officers come.”

“Nothing of the kind, sir. You must talk to them when they come. You are my prisoner, so just lie still.”

As the sentry was speaking the notes of a bugle were ringing out upon the silent night. Hurrying feet could be heard, and it was evident that the night alarm had set the occupants of the cantonments buzzing out like the bees of a hive.

“They don’t know which sentry it was,” thought Smithers, and he was raising his piece to fire and bring the relief to his side, when it struck him that he should be leaving himself defenceless if his prisoner should make a dash to escape.

“Second thoughts is best, says the missus,” he muttered, and taking the revolver from his pocket, he fired it in the air, and after a short interval fired again.

“That’s done it,” he said to himself.—“Hullo! what’s the matter with you?” For his prisoner was rocking himself to and fro as if in pain, and grinding his teeth.

Directly after there was the light of a lantern showing through the trees, shouts were heard and answered by the sentry, and a strong party of the men, led by Captain Down and Archie, surrounded them.

“What’s wrong, Smithers?” cried the Captain eagerly.

“Took a prisoner, sir.”

“Corporal, a light here,” cried Archie; and the man doubled up to throw the rays of the lantern upon the prisoner’s face as he now rose to his feet.

“The Count!” cried Archie.

“Yes, sir. Your stupid sentry, he make a John Bull blunder—a mistake.”

“A mistake?” said the Captain. “Why, how come you here?”

“Only I have my lanterrne and collecting-box, and come down the river to catch specimens of the beautiful moth for the naturalists at home in France. I land from my boat, and the boat come to take me away; but your sentry man re-fuse to let me go.”

“Collecting—lantern!” said the Captain.

“Yes, sir. Look. I fear my beautiful specimens are spoiled in the pannier here. He use me very bad.”

“You mean that you were collecting moths?” said Archie dubiously, as he recalled the rustling sounds he had heard below the veranda that night.

“Yes, sir,” said Smithers gruffly. “I suppose it’s right, what he says, about collecting. Here’s one of his tools;” and he handed the beautifully finished little revolver to the young officer.

“Humph!” grunted the Captain.—“Well, sir, I’m sorry if our sentry behaved roughly to you, but he was only obeying orders, and you ought to know that you had no business here.”

“All a mistake, Captain. You will please make signals for my boat to come.”

“All in good time, sir,” said the Captain, in response to a nudge given by his subaltern; “but you must come up first and make your explanation to the Major.”

“What! It is not necessary, sir.”

“You think so, sir?” said Captain Down. “I and my brother officer think it is.”

Directly after the relief party and their prisoner were on their way to headquarters.