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diff --git a/37215-h/37215-h.htm b/37215-h/37215-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07e6711 --- /dev/null +++ b/37215-h/37215-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12464 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} + +.blockquot{ + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Argus Pheasant + +Author: John Charles Beecham + +Illustrator: George W. Gage + +Release Date: August 26, 2011 [EBook #37215] +Last updated: May 2, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT *** + + + + +Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/cover.png" width="450" height="691" alt="Cover" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Cover</span> +</div> + + + + +<h1>THE ARGUS PHEASANT</h1> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.png" width="450" height="768" alt="The Chinaman's laborious progress through the cane had amused +Pg ii" title="" /><span class="caption">The Chinaman's laborious progress through the cane had +amused her. She knew why he stepped so carefully</span></div> + + +<h1>THE ARGUS PHEASANT</h1> +<br /> +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>JOHN CHARLES BEECHAM</h2> +<br /> +<p class="center">Frontispiece by<br /> +GEORGE W. GAGE<br /></p> +<br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/tp.png" width="175" height="183" alt="" title="" /> +</div><br /> +<br /> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">New York</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">W. J. Watt & Company</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">PUBLISHERS</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by</span><br /> +W. J. WATT & COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +PRESS OF<br /> +BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br /> +BOOK MANUFACTURERS<br /> +BROOKLYN, N. Y.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS"> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align="center">CHAPTER</td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">I. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Omniscient Sachsen</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ah Sing Counts His Nails</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Peter Gross is Named Resident</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyola's Prayer</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sachsen's Warning</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Pirate League</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller Worries</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyala's Warning</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Long Arm of Ah Sing</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Captain Carver Signs</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller's Dream</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Reception</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Fever Antidote</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyala's Defiance</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Council</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Pledge</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Poisoned Arrow</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">192</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Summons to Sadong</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIX. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Koyala's Ultimatum</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XX. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Lkath's Conversion</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXI. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Captured by Pirates</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">In the Temple</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">238</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ah Sing's Vengeance</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIV. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Rescue</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">252</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXV. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fight on the Beach</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">259</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVI. </td><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">To Half of My Kingdom</span>—"</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">268</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Woman Scorned</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">274</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVIII. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Attack on the Fort</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">285</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIX. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Woman's Heart</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">296</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXX. </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Governor's Promise</span></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">310</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2>THE ARGUS PHEASANT</h2> + +<p class="center"> +Ah, God, for a man with a heart, head, hand,<br /> +Like some of the simple great ones gone<br /> +Forever and ever by;<br /> +One still, strong man in a blatant land,<br /> +Whatever they call him—what care I?—<br /> +Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat—one<br /> +Who can rule and dare not lie! <i>Tennyson.</i><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Omniscient Sachsen</span></h3> + + +<p>It was very apparent that his Excellency Jonkheer +Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten, governor-general +of the Netherlands East Indies, +was in a temper. His eyes sparked like an emery-wheel +biting cold steel. His thin, sharp-ridged nose +rose high and the nostrils quivered. His pale, +almost bloodless lips were set in rigid lines over +his finely chiseled, birdlike beak with its aggressive +Vandyke beard. His hair bristled straight and +stiff, like the neck-feathers of a ruffled cock, over +the edge of his linen collar. It was this latter +evidence of the governor's unpleasant humor that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +his military associate, General Gysbert Karel Vanden +Bosch, observed with growing anxiety.</p> + +<p>The governor took a pinch of snuff with great +deliberation and glared across the big table of his +cabinet-room at the general. Vanden Bosch shrank +visibly.</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear <i>generaal</i>," he demanded, "you say +we must let these sons of Jazebel burn down my +residences, behead my residents, and feed my <i>controlleurs</i> +to the crocodiles without interference from +the military?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ach</i>, no, your excellency!" General Vanden +Bosch expostulated hastily. "Not that!"</p> + +<p>"I fear I have not understood you, my dear general. +What do you advise?"</p> + +<p>The icy sweetness of the choleric Van Schouten +sent a cold shiver along the commander's spine. +He wriggled nervously in the capacious armchair +that he filled so snugly. Quite unconsciously he +mumbled to himself the clause which the pious +Javanese had added to their prayers since Van +Schouten's coming to Batavia: "And from the +madness of the <i>orang blanda</i> devil at the <i>paleis</i>, +Allah deliver us."</p> + +<p>"Ha! <i>generaal</i>, what do you say?" the governor +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Vanden Bosch coughed noisily and rallied his wits.</p> + +<p>"Ahem, your excellency; ah-hum! It is a problem, +as your excellency knows. I could send Colonel +Heyns and his regiment to Bulungan, if your excellency +so desires. But—ahem—as your excel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>lency +knows, all he will find is empty huts. Not a +proa on the sea; not a Dyak in his field."</p> + +<p>"You might as well send that many wooden men!" +Van Schouten snapped.</p> + +<p>The general winced. His portentously solemn +features that for forty years had impressed the authorities +at The Hague with his sagacity in military +affairs became severely grave. Oracularly he suggested:</p> + +<p>"Would it not be wise, your excellency, to give +Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>, more time? His +last report was very satisfactory. Very satisfactory, +indeed!" He smacked his lips at the satisfactoriness +thereof.</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" the governor swore, crashing +his lean fist on the table. "More time for what? +The taxes have not been paid for two years. Not a +kilo of rice has been grown on our plantations. Not +a liter of dammargum has been shipped here. The +cane is left to rot uncut. Fire has ravaged the +cinchona-groves my predecessors set with such care. +Every ship brings fresh reports of piracies, of tribal +wars, and head-hunting. How much longer must +we possess our souls in patience while these things +go on?"</p> + +<p>The general shook his head with a brave show of +regret.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ach!</i> your excellency," he replied sadly; "he +promised so well."</p> + +<p>"Promises," the governor retorted, "do not pay +taxes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> + +<p>Vanden Bosch rubbed his purple nose in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is the witch-woman again," he remarked, +discouragedly.</p> + +<p>"Who else?" Van Schouten growled. "Always +the witch-woman. That spawn of Satan, Koyala, +is at the bottom of every uprising we have in +Borneo."</p> + +<p>"That is what we get for letting half-breeds +mingle with whites in our mission schools," Vanden +Bosch observed bitterly.</p> + +<p>The governor scowled. "That folly will cost the +state five hundred <i>gulden</i>," he remarked. "That is +the price I have put on her head."</p> + +<p>The general pricked up his ears. "H-m, that +should interest Mynheer Muller," he remarked. +"There is nothing he likes so well as the feel of a +guilder between his fingers."</p> + +<p>The governor snorted. "<i>Neen, generaal</i>," he negatived. +"For once he has found a sweeter love than +silver. The fool fairly grovels at Koyala's feet, +Sachsen tells me."</p> + +<p>"So?" Vanden Bosch exclaimed with quickened +interest. "They say she is very fair."</p> + +<p>"If I could get my hands on her once, the Argus +Pheasant's pretty feathers would molt quickly," +Van Schouten snarled. His fingers closed like an +eagle's talons.</p> + +<p>"Argus Pheasant, Bintang Burung, the Star Bird—'tis +a sweet-sounding name the Malays have for +her," the general remarked musingly. There was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +a sparkle in his eye—the old warrior had not lost +his fondness for a pretty face. "If I was younger," +he sighed, "I might go to Bulungan myself."</p> + +<p>The governor grunted.</p> + +<p>"You are an old cock that has lost his tail-feathers, +<i>generaal</i>," he growled. "This is a task for a young +man."</p> + +<p>The general's chest swelled and his chin perked up +jauntily.</p> + +<p>"I am not so old as you think, your excellency," +he retorted with a trace of asperity.</p> + +<p>"<i>Neen, neen, generaal</i>," the governor negatived, +"I cannot let you go—not for your own good name's +sake. The gossips of Amsterdam and The Hague +would have a rare scandal to prate about if it became +whispered around that Gysbert Vanden Bosch was +scouring the jungles of Bulungan for a witch-woman +with a face and form like Helen of Troy's."</p> + +<p>The general flushed. His peccadillos had followed +him to Java, and he did not like to be reminded of them.</p> + +<p>"The argus pheasant is too shy a bird to come +within gunshot, your excellency," he replied somberly. +"It must be trapped."</p> + +<p>"Ay, and so must she," the governor assented. +"That is how she got her name. But you are too +seasoned for bait, my dear <i>generaal</i>." He chuckled.</p> + +<p>Vanden Bosch was too much impressed with his +own importance to enjoy being chaffed. Ignoring +the thrust, he observed dryly:</p> + +<p>"Your excellency might try King Saul's plan."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ha!" the governor exclaimed with interest. +"What is that?"</p> + +<p>Van Schouten prided himself on his knowledge of +the Scriptures, and the general could not repress a +little smirk of triumph at catching him napping.</p> + +<p>"King Saul tied David's hands by giving him his +daughter to wife," he explained. "In the same way, +your excellency might clip the Argus Pheasant's +wings by marrying her to one of our loyal servants. +It might be managed most satisfactorily. A proper +marriage would cause her to forget the brown blood +that she hates so bitterly."</p> + +<p>"It is not her brown blood that she hates, it is +her white blood," Van Schouten contradicted. "But +who would be the man?"</p> + +<p>"Why not Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>!" +Vanden Bosch asked. "From what your excellency +says, he would not be unwilling. Then our troubles +in Bulungan would be over."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten scowled thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"It would be a good match," the general urged. +"He is only common blood—a Marken herring-fisher's +son by a Celebes woman. And she"—he shrugged +his shoulders—"for all her pretty face and plump +body she is Leveque, the French trader's daughter, +by a Dyak woman."</p> + +<p>He licked his lips in relish of the plan.</p> + +<p>Van Schouten shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot do it," he said. "I could send her +to the coffee-plantations—that would be just punishment +for her transgressions. But God keep me +from sentencing any woman to marry."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, your excellency," Vanden Bosch entreated.</p> + +<p>"It is ridiculous, <i>generaal</i>," the governor cut in +autocratically. "The argus pheasant does not mate +with the vulture."</p> + +<p>Vanden Bosch's face fell. "Then your excellency +must appoint another resident," he said, in evident +disappointment. "It will take a strong man to +bring those Dyaks to time."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten looked at him fixedly for several +moments. A miserable sensation of having said too +much crept over the general.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed. "You say we +must have a new resident. That has been my idea, +too. What bush-fighter have you that can lead +two hundred cut-throats like himself and harry these +tigers out of their lairs till they crawl on their bellies +to beg for peace?"</p> + +<p>Inwardly cursing himself for his folly in ceasing +to advocate Muller, the general twiddled his thumbs +and said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>generaal</i>?" Van Schouten rasped irascibly.</p> + +<p>"Ahem—you know what troops I have, your excellency. +Mostly raw recruits, here scarce three +months. There is not a man among them I would +trust alone in the bush. After all, it might be wisest +to give Mynheer Muller another chance." His +cheeks puffed till they were purple.</p> + +<p>Van Schouten's face flamed.</p> + +<p>"Enough! Enough!" he roared. "If the military +cannot keep our house in order, Sachsen and +I will find a man. That is all, <i>generaal</i>. <i>Goedendag!</i>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>Vanden Bosch made a hasty and none too dignified +exit, damning under his breath the administration +that had transferred him from a highly +ornamental post in Amsterdam to live with this +pepper-pot. He was hardly out of the door before +the governor shouted:</p> + +<p>"Sachsen! <i>Hola</i>, Sachsen!"</p> + +<p>The sound of the governor's voice had scarcely +died in the marbled corridors when Sachsen, the +omniscient, the indispensable secretary, bustled into +the sanctum. His stooped shoulders were crooked +in a perpetual obeisance, and his damp, gray hair +was plastered thinly over his ruddy scalp; but the +shrewd twinkle in his eyes and the hawklike cast of +his nose and chin belied the air of humility he +affected.</p> + +<p>"Sachsen," the governor demanded, the eagle +gleaming in his lean, Cęsarian face, "where can I +find a man that will bring peace to Bulungan?"</p> + +<p>The wrinkled features of the all-knowing Sachsen +crinkled with a smile of inspiration.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency," he murmured, bowing low, +"there is Peter Gross, freeholder of Batavia."</p> + +<p>"Peter Gross, <i>Pieter</i> Gross," Van Schouten +mused, his brow puckered with a thoughtful frown. +"The name seems to have slipped my memory. +What has Peter Gross, freeholder of Batavia, done +to merit such an appointment at our hands, Sachsen?"</p> + +<p>The secretary bowed again, punctiliously.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency perhaps remembers," he reminded, +"that it was Peter Gross who rescued Lieu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>tenant +Hendrik de Koren and twelve men from the +pirates of Lombock."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" the governor exclaimed, his stern features +relaxing a trifle. "Now, Sachsen, answer me truthfully, +has this Peter Gross an eye for women?"</p> + +<p>The secretary bent low.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, the fairest flowers of Batavia +are his to pick and choose. The good God has +given him a brave heart, a comely face, and plenty +of flesh to cover his bones. But his only mistress +is the sea."</p> + +<p>"If I should send him to Bulungan, would that +she-devil, Koyala, make the same fool of him that +she has of Muller?" the governor demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, the angels above would fail +sooner than he."</p> + +<p>The governor's fist crashed on the table with a +resounding thwack.</p> + +<p>"Then he is the man we need!" he exclaimed. +"Where shall I find this Peter Gross, Sachsen?"</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, he is now serving as first mate +of the Yankee barkentine, <i>Coryander</i>, anchored in +this port. He was here at the <i>paleis</i> only a moment +ago, inquiring for news of three of his crew who had +exceeded their shore leave. I think he has gone +to Ah Sing's <i>rumah makan</i>, in the Chinese campong."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten sprang from his great chair of state +like a cockerel fluttering from a roost. He licked his +thin lips and curved them into a smile.</p> + +<p>"Sachsen," he said, "except myself, you are the +only man in Java that knows anything. My hat +and coat, Sachsen, and my cane!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Ah Sing Counts his Nails</span></h3> + + +<p>Captain Threthaway, of the barkentine, +<i>Coryander</i>, of Boston, should have heeded +the warning he received from his first mate, +Peter Gross, to keep away from the roadstead of +Batavia. He had no particular business in that port. +But an equatorial sun, hot enough to melt the marrow +in a man's bones, made the <i>Coryander's</i> deck +a blistering griddle; there was no ice on board, and +the water in the casks tasted foul as bilge. So the +captain let his longing for iced tea and the cool +depths of a palm-grove get the better of his judgment.</p> + +<p>Passing Timor, Floris, and the other links in the +Malayan chain, Captain Threthaway looked longingly +at the deeply shaded depths of the mangrove +jungles. The lofty tops of the cane swayed gently +to a breeze scarcely perceptible on the <i>Coryander's</i> +sizzling deck. When the barkentine rounded Cape +Karawang, he saw a bediamonded rivulet leap sheer +off a lofty cliff and lose itself in the liana below. It +was the last straw; the captain felt he had to land +and taste ice on his tongue again or die. Calling +his first mate, he asked abruptly:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Can we victual at Batavia as cheaply as at Singapore, +Mr. Gross?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at the shore-line thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"One place is as cheap as the other, Mr. Threthaway; +but if it's my opinion you want, I advise +against stopping at Batavia."</p> + +<p>The captain frowned.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Gross?" he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Because we'd lose our crew, and Batavia's a bad +place to pick up another one. That gang for'ard +isn't to be trusted where there's liquor to be got. +'Twouldn't be so bad to lose a few of them at Singapore—there's +always English-speaking sailors there +waiting for a ship to get home on; but Batavia's +Dutch. We might have to lay around a week."</p> + +<p>"I don't think there's the slightest danger of +desertions," Captain Threthaway replied testily. +"What possible reason could any of our crew have +to leave?"</p> + +<p>"The pay is all right, and the grub is all right; +there's no kicking on those lines," Peter Gross said, +speaking guardedly. "But most of this crew are +drinking men. They're used to their rations of +grog regular. They've been without liquor since we +left Frisco, except what they got at Melbourne, and +that was precious little. Since the water fouled on +us, they're ready for anything up to murder and +mutiny. There'll be no holding them once we make +port."</p> + +<p>Captain Threthaway flushed angrily. His thin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +ascetic jaw set with Puritan stubbornness as he +retorted:</p> + +<p>"When I can't sail a ship without supplying liquor +to the crew, I'll retire, Mr. Gross."</p> + +<p>"Don't misunderstand me, captain," Peter Gross +replied, with quiet patience.</p> + +<p>"I'm not disagreeing with your teetotaler principles. +They improve a crew if you've got the right +stock to work with. But when you take grog away +from such dock-sweepings as Smith and Jacobson +and that little Frenchman, Le Beouf, you take away +the one thing on earth they're willing to work for. +We had all we could do to hold them in hand at +Melbourne, and after the contrary trades we've +bucked the past week, and the heat, their tongues +are hanging out for a drop of liquor."</p> + +<p>"Let them dare come back drunk," the captain +snapped angrily. "I know what will cure them."</p> + +<p>"They won't come back," Peter Gross asserted +calmly.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll go out and get them," Captain +Threthaway said grimly.</p> + +<p>"They'll be where they can't be found," Peter +Gross replied.</p> + +<p>Captain Threthaway snorted impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Look here, captain!" Peter Gross exclaimed, +facing his skipper squarely. "Batavia is my home +when I'm not at sea. I know its ins and outs. +Knowing the town, and knowing the crew we've got, +I'm sure a stop there will be a mighty unpleasant +experience all around. There's a Chinaman there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +Ah Sing, a public-house proprietor and a crimp, +that has runners to meet every boat. Once a man +goes into his <i>rumah makan</i>, he's as good as lost until +the next skipper comes along short-handed and puts +up the price."</p> + +<p>Captain Threthaway smiled confidently.</p> + +<p>"Poor as the crew is, Mr. Gross, there's no member +of it will prefer lodging in a Chinese crimp's +public house ten thousand miles from home to his +berth here."</p> + +<p>"They'll forget his color when they taste his hot +rum," Peter Gross returned bruskly. "And once +they drink it, they'll forget everything else. Ah +Sing is the smoothest article that ever plaited a +queue, and they don't make them any slicker than +they do in China."</p> + +<p>Captain Threthaway's lips pinched together in +irritation.</p> + +<p>"There are always the authorities," he remarked +pettishly, to end the controversy.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross restrained a look of disgust with +difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there are always the authorities," he conceded. +"But in the Chinese campong they're about +as much use as a landlubber aloft in a blow. The +campong is a little republic in itself, and Ah Sing is +the man that runs it. If the truth was known, I +guess he's the boss Chinaman of the East Indies—pirate, +trader, politician—anything he can make a +guilder at. From his rum-shop warrens run into +every section of Chinatown, and they're so well hid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +that the governor, though he's sharp as a weasel +and by all odds the best man the Dutch ever had +here, can't find them. It's the real port of missing +men."</p> + +<p>Captain Threthaway looked shoreward, where +dusky, breech-clouted natives were resting in the +cool shade of the heavy-leafed mangroves. A bit +of breeze stirred just then, bringing with it the rich +spice-grove and jungle scents of the thickly wooded +island. A fierce longing for the shore seized the +captain. He squared his shoulders with decision.</p> + +<p>"I'll take the chance, Mr. Gross," he said. "This +heat is killing me. You may figure on twenty-four +hours in port."</p> + +<p>Twelve hours after the <i>Coryander</i> cast anchor in +Batavia harbor, Smith, Jacobson, and Le Beouf +were reported missing. When Captain Threthaway, +for all his Boston upbringing, had exhausted a prolific +vocabulary, he called his first mate.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gross," he said, "the damned renegades +are gone. Do you think you can find them?"</p> + +<p>Long experience in the vicissitudes of life, acquired +in that best school of all, the forecastle, had +taught Peter Gross the folly of saying, "I told you +so." Therefore he merely replied:</p> + +<p>"I'll try, sir."</p> + +<p>So it befell that he sought news of the missing +ones at the great white <i>stadhuis</i>, where the Heer +Sachsen, always his friend, met him and conceived +the inspiration for his prompt recommendation to +the governor-general.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross ambled on toward Ah Sing's <i>rumah +makan</i> without the slightest suspicion he was being +followed. On his part, Governor-General Van +Schouten was content to let his quarry walk on +unconscious of observation while he measured the +man.</p> + +<p>"God in Israel, what a man!" his excellency exclaimed +admiringly, noting Peter Gross's broad +shoulders and stalwart thighs. "If he packs as +much brains inside his skull as he does meat on his +bones, there are some busy days ahead for my +Dyaks." He smacked his lips in happy anticipation.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing's grog-shop, with its colonnades and porticoes +and fussy gables and fantastic cornices terminating +in pigtail curlicues, was a squalid place +for all the ornamentation cluttered on it. Peter Gross +observed its rubbishy surroundings with ill-concealed +disgust.</p> + +<p>"'Twould be a better Batavia if some one set fire +to the place," he muttered to himself. "Yet the +law would call it arson."</p> + +<p>Looking up, he saw Ah Sing seated in one of the +porticoes, and quickly masked his face to a smile of +cordial greeting, but not before the Chinaman had +detected his ill humor.</p> + +<p>There was a touch of three continents in Ah Sing's +appearance. He sat beside a table, in the American +fashion; he smoked a long-stemmed hookah, after +the Turkish fashion, and he wore his clothes after +the Chinese fashion. The bland innocence of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +pudgy face and the seraphic mildness of his unblinking +almond eyes that peeped through slits no wider +than the streak of a charcoal-pencil were as the +guilelessness of Mother Eve in the garden. Motionless +as a Buddha idol he sat, except for occasional +pulls at the hookah.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Ah Sing," Peter Gross remarked +happily, as he mounted the colonnade.</p> + +<p>The tiny slits through which Ah Sing beheld the +pageantry of a sun-baked world opened a trifle +wider.</p> + +<p>"May Allah bless thee, Mr. Gross," he greeted +impassively.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross pulled a chair away from one of the +other tables and placed it across the board from Ah +Sing. Then he succumbed to it with a sigh of gentle +ease.</p> + +<p>"A hot day," he panted, and fanned himself as +though he found the humidity unbearable.</p> + +<p>"Belly hot," Ah Sing gravely agreed in a guttural +voice that sounded from unfathomable abysses.</p> + +<p>"A hot day for a man that's tasted no liquor for +nigh three months," Peter Gross amended.</p> + +<p>"You makee long trip?" Ah Sing inquired politely.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's features molded themselves into an +expression eloquently appreciative of his past miseries.</p> + +<p>"That's altogether how you take it, Ah Sing," he +replied. "From Frisco to Melbourne to Batavia +isn't such a thunderin' long ways, not to a man that's +done the full circle three times. But when you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +make the voyage with a Methodist captain who +doesn't believe in grog, it's the longest since Captain +Cook's. Ah Sing, my throat's dryer than a sou'east +monsoon. Hot toddy for two."</p> + +<p>Ah Sing clapped his hands and uttered a magic +word or two in Chinese. A Cantonese waiter paddled +swiftly outside, bearing a lacquered tray and +two steaming glasses. One he placed before Ah +Sing and the other before Peter Gross, who tossed a +coin on the table.</p> + +<p>"Pledge your health, sir," Peter Gross remarked +and reached across the board to clink glasses with +his Chinese friend. Ah Sing lifted his glass to meet +the sailor's and suddenly found it snaked out of his +hands by a deft motion of Peter Gross's middle finger. +Gross slid his own glass across the table toward +Ah Sing.</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind," he remarked pleasantly. +"Your waiter might have mistaken me for a plain +A. B., and I've got to get back to my ship to-night."</p> + +<p>Ah Sing's bland and placid face remained expressionless +as a carved god's. But he left the glass +stand, untasted, beside him.</p> + +<p>The <i>Coryander's</i> mate sipped his liquor and sank +deeper into his chair. He studied with an air of +affectionate interest the long lane of quaintly colonnaded +buildings that edged the city within a city, +the Chinese campong. Pigtailed Orientals, unmindful +of the steaming heat, squirmed across the +scenery. Ten thousand stenches were compounded +into one, in which the flavor of garlic predominated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +Peter Gross breathed the heavy air with a smile of +reminiscent pleasure and dropped another notch into +the chair.</p> + +<p>"It feels good to be back ashore again for a spell, +Ah Sing," he remarked. "A nice, cool spot like +this, with nothing to do and some of your grog under +the belt, skins a blistery deck any day. I don't +wonder so many salts put up here."</p> + +<p>Back of the curtain of fat through which they +peered, Ah Sing's oblique eyes quivered a trifle as +they watched the sailor keenly.</p> + +<p>"By the way," Peter Gross observed, stretching +his long legs out to the limit of their reach, "you +haven't seen any of my men, have you? Smith, +he's pock-marked and has a cut over his right eye; +Jacobson, a tall Swede, and Le Beouf, a little Frenchman +with a close-clipped black mustache and beard?"</p> + +<p>Ah Sing gravely cudgeled his memory.</p> + +<p>"None of your men," he assured, "was here."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's face fell.</p> + +<p>"That's too bad!" he exclaimed in evident disappointment. +"I thought sure I'd find 'em here. +You're sure you haven't overlooked them? That +Frenchie might call for a hop; we picked him out +of a hop-joint at Frisco."</p> + +<p>"None your men here," Ah Sing repeated gutturally.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross rumpled his tousled hair in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"We-el," he drawled unhappily, "if those chaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +don't get back on shipboard by nightfall I'll have +to buy some men from you, Ah Sing. Have y' got +three good hands that know one rope from another?"</p> + +<p>"Two men off schooner <i>Marianna</i>," Ah Sing +replied in his same thick monotone. "One man, +steamer <i>Callee-opie</i>. Good strong man. Work hard."</p> + +<p>"You stole 'em, I s'pose?" Peter Gross asked +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing's heavy jowls waggled in gentle negation.</p> + +<p>"No stealum man," he denied quietly. "Him +belly sick. Come here, get well. Allie big, strong +man."</p> + +<p>"How much a head?"</p> + +<p>"Twlenty dlolla."</p> + +<p>"F. O. B. the <i>Coryander</i> and no extra charges?"</p> + +<p>Ah Sing's inscrutable face screwed itself into a +maze of unreadable wrinkles and lines.</p> + +<p>"Him eat heap," he announced. "Five dlolla +more for board."</p> + +<p>"You go to blazes," Peter Gross replied cheerfully. +"I'll look up a couple of men somewhere else or go +short-handed if I have to."</p> + +<p>Ah Sing made no reply and his impassive face +did not alter its expressionless fixity. Peter Gross +lazily pulled himself up in his chair and extended his +right hand across the table. A ring with a big +bloodstone in the center, a bloodstone cunningly +chiseled and marked, rested on the middle finger.</p> + +<p>"See that ring, Ah Sing?" he asked. "I got that +down to Mauritius. What d'ye think it's worth?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ah Sing's long, claw-like fingers groped avariciously +toward the ring. His tiny, fat-encased +eyes gleamed with cupidity.</p> + +<p>With a quick, cat-like movement, Peter Gross +gripped one of the Chinaman's hands.</p> + +<p>"Don't pull," he cautioned quickly as Ah Sing +tried to draw his hand away. "I was going to tell +you that there's a drop of adder's poison inside the +bloodstone that runs down a little hollow pin if +you press the stone just so—" He moved to illustrate.</p> + +<p>"No! No!" Ah Sing shrieked pig-like squeals of +terror.</p> + +<p>"Just send one of your boys for my salts, will +you?" Peter Gross requested pleasantly. "I understand +they got here yesterday morning and haven't +been seen to leave. Talk English—no China talk, +savvy?"</p> + +<p>A flash of malevolent fury broke Ah Sing's mask +of impassivity. The rage his face expressed caused +Peter Gross to grip his hand the harder and look +quickly around for a possible danger from behind. +They were alone. Peter Gross moved a finger +toward the stone, and Ah Sing capitulated. At his +shrill cry there was a hurried rustle from within. +Peter Gross kept close grip on the Chinaman's +hand until he heard the shuffling tramp of sailor +feet. Smith, Jacobson and Le Beouf, blinking +sleepily, were herded on the portico by two giant +Thibetans.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross shoved the table and Ah Sing violently +back and leaped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"You'll—desert—will you?" he exclaimed. Each +word was punctuated by a swift punch on the chin +of one of the unlucky sailors and an echoing thud +on the floor. Smith, Jacobson, and Le Beouf lay +neatly cross-piled on one of Ah Sing's broken chairs.</p> + +<p>"I'll pay for the chair," Peter Gross declared, +jerking his men to their feet and shoving them down +the steps.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing shrilled an order in Chinese. The +Thibetan giants leaped for Peter Gross, who sprang +out of their reach and put his back to the wall. In +his right hand a gun flashed.</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing, I'll take you first," he shouted.</p> + +<p>The screen separating them from the adjoining +portico was violently pushed aside.</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing!" exclaimed a sharp, authoritative voice.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing looked about, startled. The purpled +fury his face expressed sickened to a mottled gray. +Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten, governor-general +of Java, leaning lightly on his cane, frowned +sternly at the scene of disorder. At a cry from their +master the two Thibetans backed away from Peter +Gross, who lowered his weapon.</p> + +<p>"Is it thus you observe our laws, Ah Sing?" Van +Schouten demanded coldly.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing licked his lips. "Light of the sun—" he +began, but the governor interrupted shortly:</p> + +<p>"The magistrate will hear your explanations."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +His eagle eyes looked penetratingly upon Peter +Gross, who looked steadfastly back.</p> + +<p>"Sailor, you threatened to poison this man," +the governor accused harshly, indicating Ah Sing.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, that was bluff," Peter Gross +replied. "The ring is as harmless as your excellency's +own."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten's eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"What is your name, sailor, and your ship?" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Peter Gross, your excellency, first mate of the +barkentine <i>Coryander</i> of Boston, now lying in your +excellency's harbor of Batavia."</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing," Van Schouten rasped sternly, "if +these drunken louts are not aboard their ship by +nightfall, you go to the coffee-fields."</p> + +<p>Ah Sing's gimlet eyes shrank to pin-points. His +face was expressionless, but his whole body seemed +to shake with suppressed emotion as he choked in +guttural Dutch:</p> + +<p>"Your excellency shall be obeyed." He salaamed +to the ground.</p> + +<p>Van Schouten glared at Peter Gross.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross, the good name of our fair city +is very dear to us," he said sternly. "Scenes of +violence like this do it much damage. I would have +further discourse with you. Be at the <i>paleis</i> +within the hour."</p> + +<p>"I shall be there, your excellency," Peter Gross +promised.</p> + +<p>The governor shifted his frown to Ah Sing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As for you, Ah Sing, I have heard many evil +reports of this place," he said. "Let me hear no +more."</p> + +<p>While Ah Sing salaamed again, the governor +strode pompously away, followed at a respectful +distance by Peter Gross. It was not until they had +disappeared beyond a curve in the road that Ah +Sing let his face show his feelings. Then an expression +of malignant fury before which even the +two Thibetans quailed, crossed it.</p> + +<p>He uttered a harsh command to have the débris +removed. The Thibetans jumped forward in trembling +alacrity. Without giving them another glance +he waddled into the building, into a little den screened +off for his own use. From a patent steel safe of +American make he took an ebony box, quaintly +carved and colored in glorious pinks and yellows +with a flower design. Opening this, he exposed a +row of glass vials resting on beds of cotton. Each +vial contained some nail parings.</p> + +<p>He took out the vials one by one, looked at their +labels inscribed in Chinese characters, and placed +them on an ivory tray. As he read each label a +curious smile of satisfaction spread over his features.</p> + +<p>When he had removed the last vial he sat at his +desk, dipped a pen into India ink, and wrote two +more labels in similar Chinese characters. When +the ink had dried he placed these on two empty +vials taken from a receptacle on his desk. The +vials were placed with the others in the ebony box +and locked in the safe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>The inscriptions he read on the labels were the +names of men who had died sudden and violent +deaths in the East Indies while he had lived at +Batavia. The labels he filled out carried the names +of Adriaan Adriaanszoon Van Schouten and Peter +Gross.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Peter Gross is Named Resident</span></h3> + + +<p>"Sailor, the penalty for threatening the life +of any citizen is penal servitude on the +state's coffee-plantations."</p> + +<p>The governor's voice rang harshly, and he scowled +across the big table in his cabinet-room at the +<i>Coryander's</i> mate sitting opposite him. His hooked +nose and sharp-pointed chin with its finely trimmed +Van Dyke beard jutted forward rakishly.</p> + +<p>"I ask no other justice than your excellency's +own sense of equity suggests," Peter Gross replied +quietly.</p> + +<p>"H'mm!" the governor hummed. He looked at +the <i>Coryander's</i> mate keenly for a few moments +through half-closed lids. Suddenly he said:</p> + +<p>"And what if I should appoint you a resident, +sailor?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly, but +otherwise he gave no sign of his profound astonishment +at the governor's astounding proposal. Sinking +deeper into his chair until his head sagged on his +breast, he deliberated before replying.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency is in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"I do not jest on affairs of state, Mynheer Gross. +What is your answer?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross paused. "Your excellency overwhelms +me—" he began, but Van Schouten cut him +short.</p> + +<p>"Enough! When I have work to do I choose the +man who I think can do it. Then you accept?"</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, to my deep regret I must most +respectfully decline."</p> + +<p>A look of blank amazement spread over the governor's +face. Then his eyes blazed ominously.</p> + +<p>"Decline! Why?" he roared.</p> + +<p>"For several reasons," Peter Gross replied with +disarming mildness. "In the first place I am under +contract with Captain Threthaway of the <i>Coryander</i>—"</p> + +<p>"I will arrange that with your captain," the governor +broke in.</p> + +<p>"In the second place I am neither a soldier nor a +politician—"</p> + +<p>"That is for me to consider," the governor retorted.</p> + +<p>"In the third place, I am a citizen of the United +States and therefore not eligible to any civil appointment +from the government of the Netherlands."</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" the governor exclaimed. "I +thought you were a freeholder here."</p> + +<p>"I am," Peter Gross admitted. "The land I +won is at Riswyk. I expect to make it my home +when I retire from the sea."</p> + +<p>"How long have you owned that land?"</p> + +<p>"For nearly seven years."</p> + +<p>The governor stroked his beard. "You talk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +Holland like a Hollander, Mynheer Gross," he observed.</p> + +<p>"My mother was of Dutch descent," Peter Gross +explained. "I learned the language from her."</p> + +<p>"Good!" Van Schouten inclined his head with a +curt nod of satisfaction. "Half Holland is all Holland. +We can take steps to make you a citizen at +once."</p> + +<p>"I don't care to surrender my birthright." Peter +Gross negatived quietly.</p> + +<p>"What!" Van Schouten shouted. "Not for a +resident's post? And eight thousand guilders a +year? And a land grant in Java that will make you +rich for life if you make those hill tribes stick to their +plantations? What say you to this, Mynheer Gross?" +His lips curved with a smile of anticipation.</p> + +<p>"The offer is tempting and the honor great," +Peter Gross acknowledged quietly. "But I can +not forget I was born an American."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten leaned back in his chair with a look +of astonishment.</p> + +<p>"You refuse?" he asked incredulously.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, your excellency!" Peter Gross's +tone was unmistakably firm.</p> + +<p>"You refuse?" the governor repeated, still unbelieving. +"Eight—thousand—guilders! And a +land grant that will make you rich for life!"</p> + +<p>"I am an American, and American I shall stay."</p> + +<p>The governor's eyes sparkled with admiration.</p> + +<p>"By the beard of Orange!" he exclaimed, "it is +no wonder you Yankees have sucked the best blood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +of the world into your country." He leaned forward +confidentially.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross, I cannot appoint you resident +if you refuse to take the oath of allegiance to the +queen. But I can make you special agent of the +<i>gouverneur-generaal</i>. I can make you a resident in +fact, if not in name, of a country larger than half the +Netherlands, larger than many of your own American +States. I can give you the rewards I have +pledged you, a fixed salary and the choice of a thousand +hectares of our fairest state lands in Java. +What do you say?"</p> + +<p>He leaned forward belligerently. In that posture +his long, coarse hair rose bristly above his neck, +giving him something of the appearance of a gamecock +with feathers ruffled. It was this peculiarity +that first suggested the name he was universally +known by throughout the Sundas, "De Kemphaan" +(The Gamecock).</p> + +<p>"To what province would you appoint me?" +Peter Gross asked slowly.</p> + +<p>The governor hesitated. With the air of a poker +player forced to show his hand he confessed:</p> + +<p>"It is a difficult post, mynheer, and needs a +strong man as resident. It is the residency of +Bulungan, Borneo."</p> + +<p>There was the faintest flicker in Peter Gross's +eyes. Van Schouten watched him narrowly. In +the utter stillness that followed the governor could +hear his watch tick.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross rose abruptly, leaped for the door,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +and threw it open. He looked straight into the +serene, imperturbable face of Chi Wung Lo, autocrat +of the governor's domestic establishment. Chi +Wung bore a delicately lacquered tray of Oriental +design on which were standing two long, thin, daintily +cut glasses containing cooling limes that bubbled +fragrantly. Without a word he swept grandly in +and placed the glasses on the table, one before the +governor, and the other before Peter Gross's vacant +chair.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed, smacking his +lips. "Chi Wung, you peerless, priceless servant, +how did you guess our needs?"</p> + +<p>With a bland bow and never a glance at Peter +Gross, Chi Wung strutted out in Oriental dignity, +carrying his empty tray. Peter Gross closed the +door carefully, and walked slowly back.</p> + +<p>"I was about to say, your excellency," he murmured, +"that Bulungan has not a happy reputation."</p> + +<p>"It needs a strong man to rule it," the governor +acknowledged, running his glance across Peter +Gross's broad shoulders in subtle compliment.</p> + +<p>"Those who have held the post of resident there +found early graves."</p> + +<p>"You are young, vigorous. You have lived here +long enough to know how to escape the fevers."</p> + +<p>"There are worse enemies in Bulungan than the +fevers," Peter Gross replied. "It is not for nothing +that Bulungan is known as the graveyard of Borneo."</p> + +<p>The governor glanced at Peter Gross's strong face +and stalwart form regretfully.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Your refusal is final?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, if your excellency will meet +one condition, I accept," Peter Gross replied.</p> + +<p>The governor put his glass down sharply and +stared at the sailor.</p> + +<p>"You accept this post?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Upon one condition, yes!"</p> + +<p>"What is that condition?"</p> + +<p>"That I be allowed a free hand."</p> + +<p>"H'mm!" Van Schouten drew a deep breath +and leaned back in his chair. The sharp, Julian +cast of countenance was never more pronounced, +and the eagle eyes gleamed inquiringly, calculatingly. +Peter Gross looked steadily back. The minutes +passed and neither spoke.</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to go there?" the governor +exclaimed suddenly. He leaned forward in his chair +till his eyes burned across a narrow two feet into +Peter Gross's own.</p> + +<p>The strong, firm line of Peter Gross's lips tightened. +He rested one elbow on the table and drew nearer +the governor. His voice was little more than a +murmur as he said:</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, let me tell you the story of +Bulungan."</p> + +<p>The governor's face showed surprise. "Proceed," +he directed.</p> + +<p>"Six years ago, when your excellency was appointed +governor-general of the Netherlands East +Indies," Peter Gross began, "Bulungan was a No +Man's land, although nominally under the Dutch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +flag. The pirates that infested the Celebes sea and +the straits of Macassar found ports of refuge in its +jungle-banked rivers and marsh mazes where no +gun-boat could find them. The English told your +government that if it did not stamp out piracy and +subjugate the Dyaks, it would. That meant loss +of the province to the Dutch crown. Accordingly +you sent General Van Heemkerken there with eight +hundred men who marched from the lowlands to the +highlands and back again, burning every village +they found, but meeting no Dyaks except old men +and women too helpless to move. General Van +Heemkerken reported to you that he had pacified +the country. On his report you sent Mynheer Van +Scheltema there as resident, and Cupido as <i>controlleur</i>. +Within six months Van Scheltema was +bitten by an adder placed in his bedroom and Cupido +was assassinated by a hill Dyak, who threw him out +of a dugout into a river swarming with crocodiles.</p> + +<p>"<i>Lieve hemel</i>, no!" Van Schouten cried. "Van +Scheltema and Cupido died of the fevers."</p> + +<p>"So it was reported to your excellency," Peter +Gross replied gravely. "I tell you the facts."</p> + +<p>The governor's thin, spiked jaw shot out like a +vicious thorn and his teeth clicked.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he directed sharply.</p> + +<p>"For a year there was neither resident nor <i>controlleur</i> +at Bulungan. Then the pirates became so +bold that you again took steps to repress them. The +stockade at the village of Bulungan was enlarged +and the garrison was increased to fifty men. Lieu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>tenant +Van Slyck, the commandant, was promoted +to captain. A new resident was appointed, Mynheer +de Jonge, a very dear friend of your excellency. +He was an old man, estimable and honest, but ill-fitted +for such a post, a failure in business, and a +failure as a resident. Time after time your excellency +wrote him concerning piracies, hillmen raids, +and head-hunting committed in his residency or the +adjoining seas. Each time he replied that your +excellency must be mistaken, that the pirates and +head-hunters came from other districts."</p> + +<p>The governor's eyes popped in amazement. +"How do you know this?" he exclaimed, but Peter +Gross ignored the question.</p> + +<p>"Finally about two years ago Mynheer de Jonge, +through an accident, learned that he had been deceived +by those he had trusted, had a right to trust. +A remark made by a drunken native opened his +eyes. One night he called out Captain Van Slyck +and the latter's commando and made a flying raid. +He all but surprised a band of pirates looting a captured +schooner and might have taken them had they +not received a warning of his coming. That raid +made him a marked man. Within two weeks he +was poisoned by being pricked as he slept with a +thorn dipped in the juice of the deadly upas tree."</p> + +<p>"He was a suicide!" the governor exclaimed, his +face ashen. "They brought me a note in his own +handwriting."</p> + +<p>"In which it was stated that he killed himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +because he felt he had lost your excellency's confidence?"</p> + +<p>"You know that, too?" Van Schouten whispered +huskily.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency has suffered remorse without +cause," Peter Gross declared quietly. "The note is +a forgery."</p> + +<p>The governor's hands gripped the edge of the table.</p> + +<p>"You can prove that?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"For the present your excellency must be satisfied +with my word. As resident of Bulungan I hope +to secure proofs that will satisfy a court of justice."</p> + +<p>The governor gazed at Peter Gross intently. A +conflict of emotions, amazement, unbelief, and hope +were expressed on his face.</p> + +<p>"Why should I believe you?" he demanded +fiercely.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's face hardened. The sternness of +the magistrate was on his brow as he replied:</p> + +<p>"Your excellency remembers the schooner <i>Tetrina</i>, +attacked by Chinese and Dyak pirates off the coast +of Celebes three years ago? All her crew were +butchered except two left on the deck that night for +dead. I was one of the two, your excellency. My +dead comrades have left me a big debt to pay. That +is why I will go to Bulungan."</p> + +<p>The governor rose. Decision was written on his +brow.</p> + +<p>"Meet us here to-night, Mynheer Gross," he said. +"There is much to discuss with Mynheer Sachsen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +before you leave. God grant you may be the instrument +of His eternal justice." Peter Gross raised a +hand of warning.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes the very walls have ears, your excellency," +he cautioned. "If I am to be resident of +Bulungan no word of the appointment must leak +out until I arrive there."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Prayer</span></h3> + + +<p>It was a blistering hot day in Bulungan. The +heavens were molten incandescence. The +muddy river that bisected the town wallowed +through its estuary, a steaming tea-kettle. The +black muck-fields baked and flaked under the torrid +heat. The glassy surface of the bay, lying within +the protecting crook of a curling tail of coral reef, +quivered under the impact of the sun's rays like some +sentient thing.</p> + +<p>In the village that nestled where fresh and salt +water met, the streets were deserted, almost lifeless. +Gaunt pariah dogs, driven by the acid-sharp pangs +of a never-satiated hunger, sniffed among the shadows +of the bamboo and palmleaf huts, their backs +arched and their tails slinking between their legs. +Too weak to grab their share of the spoil in the +hurly-burly, they scavenged in these hours of universal +inanity. The doors of the huts were tightly +closed—barricaded against the heat. The merchant +in his dingy shop, the fisherman in his house +on stilts, and the fashioner of metals in his thatched +cottage in the outskirts slept under their mats. +Apoplexy was the swift and sure fate of those who +dared the awful torridity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dawn had foretold the heat. The sun shot above +the purple and orange waters of the bay like a conflagration. +The miasmal vapors that clustered +thickly about the flats by night gathered their linen +and fled like the hunted. They were scurrying upstream +when Bogoru, the fisherman, walked out on +his sampan landing. He looked at the unruffled surface +of the bay, and then looked upward quickly at +the lane of tall kenari trees between the stockade +and government buildings on an elevation a short +distance back of the town. The spindly tops of the +trees pointed heavenward with the rigidity of church +spires.</p> + +<p>"There will be no chaetodon sold at the <i>visschersmarkt</i> +(fishmart) to-day," he observed. "Kismet!"</p> + +<p>With a patient shrug of his shoulders he went +back to his hut and made sure there was a plentiful +supply of sirih and cooling limes on hand.</p> + +<p>In the fruit-market Tagotu, the fruiterer, set out +a tempting display of mangosteen, durian, dookoo, +and rambootan, pineapples, and pomegranates, jars +of agar-agar, bowls of rice, freshly cooked, and +pitchers of milk.</p> + +<p>The square was damp from the heavy night dew +when he set out the first basket, it was dry as a +fresh-baked brick when he put out the last. The +heavy dust began to flood inward. Tagotu noticed +with dismay how thin the crowd was that straggled +about the market-place. Chepang, his neighbor, +came out of his stall and observed:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The monsoon has failed again. Bunungan will +stay in his huts to-day."</p> + +<p>"It is the will of Allah," Tagotu replied patiently. +Putting aside his offerings, he lowered the shades of +his shop and composed himself for a siesta.</p> + +<p>On the hill above the town, where the rude fort +and the government buildings gravely faced the sea, +the heat also made itself felt. The green blinds of +the milk-white residency building, that was patterned +as closely as tropical conditions would permit +after the quaint architecture of rural Overysel, were +tightly closed. The little cluster of residences +around it, the <i>controlleur's</i> house and the homes of +Marinus Blauwpot and Wang Fu, the leading merchants +of the place, were similarly barricaded. For +"Amsterdam," the fashionable residential suburb +of Bulungan village, was fighting the same enemy +as "Rotterdam," the town below, an enemy more +terrible than Dyak blow-pipes and Dyak poisoned +arrows, the Bornean sun.</p> + +<p>Like Bogoru, the fisherman, and Tagotu, the fruit-vender, +Cho Seng, Mynheer Muller's valet and cook, +had seen the threat the sunrise brought. The sun's +copper disc was dyeing the purple and blue waters +of the bay with vermilion and magentas when he +pad-padded out on the veranda of the <i>controlleur's</i> +house. He was clad in the meticulously neat +brown jeans that he wore at all times and occasions +except funeral festivals, and in wicker sandals. +With a single sweep of his eyes he took in the kenari<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>-tree-lined +land that ran to the gate of the stockade +where a sleepy sentinel, hunched against a pert +brass cannon, nodded his head drowsily. The road +was tenantless. He shot another glance down the +winding pathway that led by the houses of Marinus +Blauwpot and Wang Fu to the town below. That +also was unoccupied. Stepping off the veranda, he +crossed over to an unshaded spot directly in front +of the house and looked intently seaward to where a +junk lay at anchor. The brown jeans against the +milk-white paint of the house threw his figure in +sharp relief.</p> + +<p>Cho Seng waited until a figure showed itself on +the deck of the junk. Then he shaded his eye with +his arm. The Chinaman on the deck of the junk +must have observed the figure of his fellow countryman +on the hill, for he also shaded his eyes with +his arm.</p> + +<p>Cho Seng looked quickly to the right—to the left. +There was no one stirring. The sentinel at the +gate drowsed against the carriage of the saucy brass +cannon. Shading his eyes once more with a quick +gesture, Cho Seng walked ten paces ahead. Then +he walked back five paces. Making a sharp angle +he walked five paces to one side. Then he turned +abruptly and faced the jungle.</p> + +<p>The watcher on the junk gave no sign that he had +seen this curious performance. But as Cho Seng +scuttled back into the house, he disappeared into +the bowels of the ugly hulk.</p> + +<p>An hour passed before Cho Seng reappeared on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +the veranda. He cast only a casual glance at the +junk and saw that it was being provisioned. After +listening for a moment to the rhythmic snoring that +came from the chamber above—Mynheer Muller's +apartment—he turned the corner of the house and +set off at a leisurely pace toward the tangle of mangroves, +banyan, bamboo cane, and ferns that lay a +quarter of a mile inland on the same elevation on +which the settlement and stockade stood.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in his walk to indicate that +he had a definite objective. He strolled along in +apparent aimlessness, as though taking a morning's +constitutional. Overhead hundreds of birds created +a terrific din; green and blue-billed gapers +shrilled noisily; lories piped their matin lays, and +the hoarse cawing of the trogons mingled discordantly +with the mellow notes of the mild cuckoos. +A myriad insect life buzzed and hummed around him, +and scurried across his pathway. Pale white flowers +of the night that lined the wall shrank modestly +into their green cloisters before the bold eye of day. +But Cho Seng passed them by unseeing, and unhearing. +Nature had no existence for him except +as it ministered unto his physical needs. Only once +did he turn aside—a quick, panicky jump—and +that was when a little spotted snake glided in front +of him and disappeared into the underbrush.</p> + +<p>When he was well within the shadows of the +mangroves, Cho Seng suddenly brightened and +began to look about him keenly. Following a +faintly defined path, he walked along in a circuitous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +route until he came to a clearing under the shade +of a huge banyan tree whose aėrial roots rose over +his head. After peering furtively about and seeing +no one he uttered a hoarse, guttural call, the call the +great bird of paradise utters to welcome the sunrise—"Wowk, +wowk, wowk."</p> + +<p>There was an immediate answer—the shrill note +of the argus pheasant. It sounded from the right, +near by, on the other side of a thick tangle of cane +and creeper growth. Cho Seng paused in apparent +disquietude at the border of the thicket, but as +he hesitated, the call was repeated more urgently. +Wrenching the cane apart, he stepped carefully into +the underbrush.</p> + +<p>His progress through it was slow. At each step +he bent low to make certain where his foot fell. He +had a mortal fear of snakes—his nightmares were +ghastly dreams of a loathsome death from a serpent's +bite.</p> + +<p>There was a low ripple of laughter—girlish laughter. +Cho Seng straightened quickly. To his right +was another clearing, and in that clearing there was a +woman, a young woman just coming into the bloom +of a glorious beauty. She was seated on a gnarled +aėrial root. One leg was negligently thrown over +the other, a slender, shapely arm reached gracefully +upward to grasp a spur from another root, a coil of +silky black hair, black as tropic night, lay over her +gleaming shoulder. Her sarong, spotlessly white, +hung loosely about her wondrous form and was +caught with a cluster of rubies above her breasts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +A sandal-covered foot, dainty, delicately tapering, +its whiteness tanned with a faint tint of harvest +brown, was thrust from the folds of the gown. At +her side, in a silken scabbard, hung a light, skilfully +wrought kris. The handle was studded with gems.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Cho Seng," the woman greeted +demurely.</p> + +<p>Cho Seng, making no reply, snapped the cane +aside and leaped through. Koyala laughed again, +her voice tinkling like silver bells. The Chinaman's +laborious progress through the cane had amused her. +She knew why he stepped so carefully.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Cho Seng," Koyala repeated. +Her mocking dark brown eyes tried to meet his, but +Cho Seng looked studiedly at the ground, in the +affected humility of Oriental races.</p> + +<p>"Cho Seng here," he announced. "What for +um you wantee me?" He spoke huskily; a physician +would instantly have suspected he was tubercular.</p> + +<p>Koyala's eyes twinkled. A woman, she knew she +was beautiful. Wherever she went, among whites or +Malays, Chinese, or Papuans, she was admired. +But from this stolid, unfathomable, menial Chinaman +she had never been able to evoke the one +tribute that every pretty woman, no manner how +good, demands from man—a glance of admiration.</p> + +<p>"Cho Seng," she pouted, "you have not even +looked at me. Am I so ugly that you cannot bear +to see me?"</p> + +<p>"What for um you wantee me?" Cho Seng reit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>erated. +His neck was crooked humbly so that his +eyes did not rise above the hem of her sarong, and +his hands were tucked inside the wide sleeves of his +jacket. His voice was as meek and mild and +inoffensive as his manner.</p> + +<p>Koyala laughed mischievously.</p> + +<p>"I asked you a question, Cho Seng," she pointed +out.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman salaamed again, even lower than +before. His face was imperturbable as he repeated +in the same mild, disarming accents:</p> + +<p>"What for um you wantee me?"</p> + +<p>Koyala made a moue.</p> + +<p>"That isn't what I asked you, Cho Seng," she +exclaimed petulantly.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman did not move a muscle. Silent, +calm as a deep-sea bottom, his glance fixed unwaveringly +on a little spot of black earth near Koyala's +foot, he awaited her reply.</p> + +<p>Leveque's daughter shrugged her shoulders in +hopeless resignation. Ever since she had known +him she had tried to surprise him into expressing +some emotion. Admiration, fear, grief, vanity, +cupidity—on all these chords she had played +without producing response. His imperturbability +roused her curiosity, his indifference to her beauty +piqued her, and, womanlike, she exerted herself to +rouse his interest that she might punish him. So +far she had been unsuccessful, but that only gave +keener zest to the game. Koyala was half Dyak, +she had in her veins the blood of the little brown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +brother who follows his enemy for months, sometimes +years, until he brings home another dripping +head to set on his lodge-pole. Patience was therefore +her birthright.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Cho Seng, if you think I am ugly—" +She paused and arched an eyebrow to see the effect +of her words. Cho Seng's face was as rigid as +though carved out of rock. When she saw he did +not intend to dispute her, Koyala flushed and concluded +sharply:</p> + +<p>"—then we will talk of other things. What has +happened at the residency during the past week?"</p> + +<p>Cho Seng shot a furtive glance upward. "What +for um?" he asked cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, everything." Koyala spoke with pretended +indifference. "Tell me, does your <i>baas</i>, the <i>mynheer</i>, +ever mention me?"</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Muller belly much mad, belly much +drink <i>jenever</i> (gin), belly much say 'damn-damn, +Cho Seng,'" the Chinaman grunted.</p> + +<p>Koyala's laughter rang out merrily in delicious +peals that started the rain-birds and the gapers to +vain emulation. Cho Seng hissed a warning and +cast apprehensive glances about the jungle, but +Koyala, mocking the birds, provoked a hubbub of +furious scolding overhead and laughed again.</p> + +<p>"There's nobody near to hear us," she asserted +lightly.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe him in bush," Cho Seng warned.</p> + +<p>"Not when the southeast monsoon ceases to blow," +Koyala negatived. "Mynheer Muller loves his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +bed too well when our Bornean sun scorches us like +to-day. But tell me what your master has been +doing?"</p> + +<p>She snuggled into a more comfortable position +on the root. Cho Seng folded his hands over his +stomach.</p> + +<p>"Morning him sleep," he related laconically. +"Him eat. Him speakee <i>orang kaya</i>, Wobanguli, +drink <i>jenever</i>. Him speakee Kapitein Van Slyck, +drink <i>jenever</i>. Him sleep some more. Bimeby +when sun so-so—" Cho Seng indicated the position +of the sun in late afternoon—" him go speakee Mynheer +Blauwpot, eat some more. Bimeby come home, +sleep. Plenty say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'"</p> + +<p>"Does he ever mention me?" Koyala asked. Her +eyes twinkled coquettishly.</p> + +<p>"Plenty say nothing," Cho Seng replied.</p> + +<p>Koyala's face fell. "He doesn't speak of me at +all?"</p> + +<p>Cho Seng shot a sidelong glance at her.</p> + +<p>"Him no speakee Koyala, him plenty drink +<i>jenever</i>, plenty say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'" He +looked up stealthily to see the effect of his words.</p> + +<p>Koyala crushed a fern underfoot with a vicious +dab of her sandaled toes. Something like the ghost +of a grin crossed the Chinaman's face, but it was too +well hidden for Koyala to see it.</p> + +<p>"How about Kapitein Van Slyck? Has he missed +me?" Koyala asked. "It is a week since I have +been at the residency. He must have noticed it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Kapitein Van Slyck him no speakee Koyala," the +Chinaman declared.</p> + +<p>Koyala looked at him sternly. "I cannot believe +that, Cho Seng," she said. "The captain must surely +have noticed that I have not been in Amsterdam. +You are not telling me an untruth, are you, Cho +Seng?"</p> + +<p>The Chinaman was meekness incarnate as he reiterated:</p> + +<p>"Him no speakee Koyala."</p> + +<p>Displeasure gathered on Koyala's face like a +storm-cloud. She leaped suddenly from the aėrial +root and drew herself upright. At the same moment +she seemed to undergo a curious transformation. The +light, coquettish mood passed away like dabs of +sunlight under a fitful April sky, an imperious light +gleamed in her eyes and her voice rang with authority +as she said:</p> + +<p>"Cho Seng, you are the eyes and the ears of Ah +Sing in Bulungan—"</p> + +<p>The Chinaman interrupted her with a sibilant +hiss. His mask of humility fell from him and he +darted keen and angry glances about the cane.</p> + +<p>"When Koyala Bintang Burung speaks it is your +place to listen, Cho Seng," Koyala asserted sternly. +Her voice rang with authority. Under her steady +glance the Chinaman's furtive eyes bushed themselves +in his customary pose of irreproachable meekness.</p> + +<p>"You are the eyes and ears of Ah Sing in Bulun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>gan," +Koyala reaffirmed, speaking deliberately and +with emphasis. "You know that there is a covenant +between your master, your master in Batavia, +and the council of the <i>orang kayas</i> of the sea Dyaks +of Bulungan, whereby the children of the sea sail +in the proas of Ah Sing when the <i>Hanu Token</i> come +to Koyala on the night winds and tell her to bid +them go."</p> + +<p>The Chinaman glanced anxiously about the jungle, +fearful that a swaying cluster of cane might reveal +the presence of an eavesdropper.</p> + +<p>"S-ss-st," he hissed.</p> + +<p>Koyala's voice hardened. "Tell your master +this," she said. "The spirits of the highlands +speak no more through the mouth of the Bintang +Burung till the eyes and ears of Ah Sing become her +eyes and ears, too."</p> + +<p>There was a significant pause. Cho Seng's face +shifted and he looked at her slantwise to see how +seriously he should take the declaration. What he +saw undoubtedly impressed him with the need of +promptly placating her, for he announced:</p> + +<p>"Cho Seng tellee Mynheer Muller Koyala go hide +in bush—big <i>baas</i> in Batavia say muchee damn-damn, +give muchee gold for Koyala."</p> + +<p>The displeasure in Koyala's flushed face mounted +to anger.</p> + +<p>"No, you cannot take credit for that, Cho Seng," +she exclaimed sharply. "Word came to Mynheer +Muller from the governor direct that a price of many +guilders was put on my head."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her chin tilted scornfully. "Did you think +Koyala was so blind that she did not see the gun-boat +in Bulungan harbor a week ago to-day?"</p> + +<p>Cho Seng met her heat with Oriental calm.</p> + +<p>"Bang-bang boat, him come six-seven day ago," +he declared. "Cho Seng, him speakee Mynheer +Muller Koyala go hide in bush eight-nine day."</p> + +<p>"The gun-boat was in the harbor the morning +Mynheer Muller told me," Koyala retorted, and +stopped in sudden recollection. A tiny flash of +triumph lit the Chinaman's otherwise impassive +face as he put her unspoken thought into words:</p> + +<p>"<i>Kapitein</i> him bang-bang boat come see Mynheer +Muller <i>namiddag</i>," (afternoon) he said, indicating +the sun's position an hour before sunset. +"Mynheer Muller tellee Koyala <i>voormiddag</i>" (forenoon). +He pointed to the sun's morning position in +the eastern sky.</p> + +<p>"That is true," Koyala assented thoughtfully, and +paused. "How did you hear of it?"</p> + +<p>Cho Seng tucked his hands inside his sleeves and +folded them over his paunch. His neck was bent +forward and his eyes lowered humbly. Koyala +knew what the pose portended; it was the Chinaman's +refuge in a silence that neither plea nor threat +could break. She rapidly recalled the events of +that week.</p> + +<p>"There was a junk from Macassar in Bulungan +harbor two weeks—no, eleven days ago," she exclaimed. +"Did that bring a message from Ah Sing?"</p> + +<p>A startled lift of the Chinaman's chin assured her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +that her guess was correct. Another thought followed +swift on the heels of the first.</p> + +<p>"The same junk is in the harbor to-day—came +here just before sundown last night," she exclaimed. +"What message did it bring, Cho Seng?"</p> + +<p>The Chinaman's face was like a mask. His lips +were compressed tightly—it was as though he defied +her to wedge them open and to force him to reveal +his secret. An angry sparkle lit Koyala's eyes for a +moment, she stepped a pace toward him and her +hand dropped to the hilt of the jeweled kris, then +she stopped short. A fleeting look of cunning replaced +the angry gleam; a half-smile came and vanished +on her lips almost in the same instant.</p> + +<p>Her face lifted suddenly toward the leafy canopy. +Her arms were flung upward in a supplicating gesture. +The Chinaman, watching her from beneath his lowered +brow, looked up in startled surprise. Koyala's +form became rigid, a Galatea turned back to marble. +Her breath seemed to cease, as though she was in a +trance. The color left her face, left even her lips. +Strangely enough, her very paleness made the Dyak +umber in her cheeks more pronounced.</p> + +<p>Her lips parted. A low crooning came forth. +The Chinaman's knees quaked and gave way as he +heard the sound. His body bent from the waist +till his head almost touched the ground.</p> + +<p>The crooning gradually took the form of words. +It was the Malay tongue she spoke—a language Cho +Seng knew. The rhythmic beating of his head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +against his knees ceased and he listened eagerly, +with face half-lifted.</p> + +<p>"<i>Hanu Token, Hanu Token</i>, spirits of the highlands, +whither are you taking me?" Koyala cried. +She paused, and a deathlike silence followed. Suddenly +she began speaking again, her figure swaying +like a tall lily stalk in a spring breeze, her voice low-pitched +and musically mystic like the voice of one +speaking from a far distance.</p> + +<p>"I see the jungle, the jungle where the mother of +rivers gushes out of the great smoking mountain. +I see the pit of serpents in the jungle—"</p> + +<p>A trembling seized Cho Seng.</p> + +<p>"The serpents are hungry, they have not been fed, +they clamor for the blood of a man. I see him whose +foot is over the edge of the pit, he slips, he falls, he +tries to catch himself, but the bamboo slips out of +his clutching fingers—I see his face—it is the face +of him whose tongue speaks double, it is the face +of—"</p> + +<p>A horrible groan burst from the Chinaman. He +staggered to his feet.</p> + +<p>"<i>Neen, neen, neen, neen</i>," he cried hoarsely in an +agonized negative. "Cho Seng tellee Bintang Burung—"</p> + +<p>A tremulous sigh escaped from Koyala's lips. Her +body shook as though swayed by the wind. Her +eyes opened slowly, vacantly, as though she was +awakening from a deep sleep. She looked at Cho +Seng with an absent stare, seeming to wonder why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +he was there, why she was where she was. The +Chinaman, made voluble through fear, chattered:</p> + +<p>"Him junk say big <i>baas gouverneur</i> speakee muchee +damn-damn; no gambir, no rice, no copra, no +coffee from Bulungan one-two year; sendee new +resident bimeby belly quick."</p> + +<p>Koyala's face paled.</p> + +<p>"Send a new resident?" she asked incredulously. +"What of Mynheer Muller?"</p> + +<p>The look of fear left Cho Seng's face. Involuntarily +his neck bent and his fingers sought each other +inside the sleeves. There was cunning mingled +with malice in his eyes as he looked up furtively and +feasted on her manifest distress.</p> + +<p>"Him chop-chop," he announced laconically.</p> + +<p>"They will kill him?" Koyala cried.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman had said his word. None knew +better than he the value of silence. He stood before +her in all humbleness and calmly awaited her next +word. All the while his eyes played on her in quick, +cleverly concealed glances.</p> + +<p>Koyala fingered the handle of the kris as she considered +what the news portended. Her face slowly +hardened—there was a look in it of the tigress +brought to bay.</p> + +<p>"Koyala bimeby mally him—Mynheer Muller, go +hide in bush?" Cho Seng ventured. The question +was asked with such an air of simple innocence and +friendly interest that none could take offense.</p> + +<p>Koyala flushed hotly. Then her nose and chin +rose high with pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Bintang Burung will wed no man, Cho +Seng," she declared haughtily. "The blood of Chawatangi +dies in me, but not till Bulungan is purged +of the <i>orang blanda</i>" (white race). She whipped the +jeweled kris out of its silken scabbard. "When the +last white man spills his heart on the coral shore and +the wrongs done Chawatangi's daughter, my mother, +have been avenged, then Koyala will go to join the +<i>Hanu Token</i> that call her, call her—"</p> + +<p>She thrust the point of the kris against her breast +and looked upward toward the far-distant hills and +the smoking mountain. A look of longing came into +her eyes, the light of great desire, almost it seemed +as if she would drive the blade home and join the +spirits she invoked.</p> + +<p>With a sigh she lowered the point of the kris and +slipped it back into its sheath.</p> + +<p>"No, Cho Seng," she said, "Mynheer Muller is +nothing to me. No man will ever be anything to +me. But your master has been a kind elder brother +to Koyala. And like me, he has had to endure the +shame of an unhappy birth." Her voice sank to a +whisper. "For his mother, Cho Seng, as you know, +was a woman of Celebes."</p> + +<p>She turned swiftly away that he might not see her +face. After a moment she said in a voice warm with +womanly kindness and sympathy:</p> + +<p>"Therefore you and I must take care of him, Cho +Seng. He is weak, he is untruthful, he has made a +wicked bargain with your master, Ah Sing, which the +spirits of the hills tell me he shall suffer for, but he is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +only what his white father made him, and the <i>orang +blanda</i> must pay!" Her lips contracted grimly. +"Ay, pay to the last drop of blood! You will be +true to him, Cho Seng?"</p> + +<p>The Chinaman cast a furtive glance upward and +found her mellow dark-brown eyes looking at him +earnestly. The eyes seemed to search his very soul.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ja, ja</i>," he pledged.</p> + +<p>"Then go, tell the captain of the junk to sail +quickly to Macassar and send word by a swift messenger +to Ah Sing that he must let me know the +moment a new resident is appointed. There is no +wind and the sun is high; therefore the junk will still +be in the harbor. Hurry, Cho Seng!"</p> + +<p>Without a word the Chinaman wheeled and +shuffled down the woodland path that led from the +clearing toward the main highway. Koyala looked +after him fixedly.</p> + +<p>"If his skin were white he could not be more +false," she observed bitterly. "But he is Ah Sing's +slave, and Ah Sing needs me, so I need not fear him—yet."</p> + +<p>She followed lightly after Cho Seng until she +could see the prim top of the residency building +gleaming white through the trees. Then she stopped +short. Her face darkened as the Dyak blood gathered +thickly. A look of implacable hate and passion +distorted it. Her eyes sought the distant hills:</p> + +<p>"<i>Hanu Token, Hanu Token</i>, send a young man +here to rule Bulungan," she prayed. "Send a strong +man, send a vain man, with a passion for fair women.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +Let me dazzle him with my beauty, let me fill his +heart with longing, let me make his brain reel with +madness, let me make his body sick with desire. +Let me make him suffer a thousand deaths before +he gasps his last breath and his dripping head is +brought to thy temple in the hills. For the wrongs +done Chawatangi's daughter, <i>Hanu Token</i>, for the +wrongs done me!"</p> + +<p>With a low sob she fled inland through the cane.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Sachsen's Warning</span></h3> + + +<p>Electric tapers were burning dimly in +Governor-General Van Schouten's sanctum +at the <i>paleis</i> that evening as Peter Gross was +ushered in. The governor was seated in a high-backed, +elaborately carved mahogany chair before +a highly polished mahogany table. Beside him +was the omniscient, the indispensable Sachsen. +The two were talking earnestly in the Dutch language. +Van Schouten acknowledged Peter Gross's +entrance with a curt nod and directed him to take a +chair on the opposite side of the table.</p> + +<p>At a word from his superior, Sachsen tucked the +papers he had been studying into a portfolio. The +governor stared intently at his visitor for a moment +before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross," he announced sharply, "your +captain tells me your contract with him runs to the +end of the voyage. He will not release you."</p> + +<p>"Then I must fill my contract, your excellency," +Peter Gross replied.</p> + +<p>Van Schouten frowned with annoyance. He was +not accustomed to being crossed.</p> + +<p>"When will you be able to take over the administration +of Bulungan, <i>mynheer</i>?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross's brow puckered thoughtfully. "In +three weeks—let us say thirty days, your excellency."</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" the governor exclaimed. +"We need you there at once."</p> + +<p>"That is quite impossible, your excellency. I +will need help, men that I can trust and who know +the islands. Such men cannot be picked up in a +day."</p> + +<p>"You can have the pick of my troops."</p> + +<p>"I should prefer to choose my own men, your +excellency," Peter Gross replied.</p> + +<p>"Eh? How so, <i>mynheer</i>?" The governor's eyes +glinted with suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency has been so good as to promise +me a free hand," Peter Gross replied quietly. "I +have a plan in mind—if your excellency desires to +hear it?"</p> + +<p>Van Schouten's face cleared.</p> + +<p>"We shall discuss that later, <i>mynheer</i>. You will +be ready to go the first of June, then?"</p> + +<p>"On the first of June I shall await your excellency's +pleasure here at Batavia," Peter Gross agreed.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nu!</i> that is settled!" The governor gave a grunt +of satisfaction and squared himself before the table. +His expression became sternly autocratic.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross," he said, "you told us this +afternoon some of the history of our unhappy residency +of Bulungan. You demonstrated to our satisfaction +a most excellent knowledge of conditions +there. Some of the things you spoke of were—I +may say—surprising. Some touched upon matters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +which we thought were known only to ourselves +and to our privy council. But, <i>mynheer</i>, you did +not mention one subject that to our mind is the +gravest problem that confronts our representatives +in Bulungan. Perhaps you do not know there is +such a problem. Or perhaps you underestimate its +seriousness. At any rate, we deem it desirable to +discuss this matter with you in detail, that you may +thoroughly understand the difficulties before you, +and our wishes in the matter. We have requested +Mynheer Sachsen to speak for us."</p> + +<p>He nodded curtly at his secretary.</p> + +<p>"You may proceed, Sachsen."</p> + +<p>Sachsen's white head, that had bent low over the +table during the governor's rather pompous little +speech, slowly lifted. His shrewd gray eyes twinkled +kindly. His lips parted in a quaintly humorous and +affectionate smile.</p> + +<p>"First of all, Vrind Pieter, let me congratulate +you," he said, extending a hand across the table. +Peter Gross's big paw closed over it with a warm +pressure.</p> + +<p>"And let me thank you, Vrind Sachsen," he replied. +"It was not hard to guess who brought my name to +his excellency's attention."</p> + +<p>"It is Holland's good fortune that you are here," +Sachsen declared. "Had you not been worthy, +Vrind Pieter, I should not have recommended you." +He looked at the firm, strong face and the deep, +broad chest and massive shoulders of his protégé +with almost paternal fondness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To have earned your good opinion is reward +enough in itself," Peter Gross asserted.</p> + +<p>Sachsen's odd smile, that seemed to find a philosophic +humor in everything, deepened.</p> + +<p>"Your reward, Vrind Pieter," he observed, "is the +customary recompense of the man who proves his +wisdom and his strength—a more onerous duty. +Bulungan will test you severely, <i>vrind</i> (friend). Do +you believe that?"</p> + +<p>"Ay," Peter Gross assented soberly.</p> + +<p>"Pray God to give you wisdom and strength," +Sachsen advised gravely. He bowed his head for a +moment, then stirred in his chair and sat up alertly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nu!</i> as to the work that lies before you, I need +not tell you the history of this residency. For +Sachsen to presume to instruct Peter Gross in what +has happened in Bulungan would be folly. As +great folly as to lecture a dominie on theology."</p> + +<p>Again the quaintly humorous quirk of the lips.</p> + +<p>"If Peter Gross knew the archipelago half so well +as his good friend Sachsen he would be a lucky man," +Peter Gross retorted spiritedly.</p> + +<p>Sachsen's face became suddenly grave.</p> + +<p>"We do not doubt your knowledge of conditions +in our unhappy province, Vrind Pieter. Nor do +we doubt your ability, your courage, or your sound +judgment. But, Pieter—"</p> + +<p>He paused. The clear gray eyes of Peter Gross +met his questioningly.</p> + +<p>"—You are young, Vrind Pieter."</p> + +<p>The governor rose abruptly and plucked down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +from the wall a long-stemmed Dutch pipe that was +suspended by a gaily colored cord from a stout peg. +He filled the big china bowl of the pipe with nearly +a half-pound of tobacco, touched a light to the weed, +and returned to his chair. There was a pregnant +silence in the room meanwhile.</p> + +<p>"How old are you, Vrind Pieter?" Sachsen asked +gently.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter Gross replied. +There was a pronounced emphasis on the "<i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five," Sachsen murmured fondly. +"Twenty-five! Just my age when I was a student +at Leyden and the gayest young scamp of them all." +He shook his head. "Twenty-five is very young, +Vrind Pieter."</p> + +<p>"That is a misfortune which only time can remedy," +Peter Gross replied drily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, only time." Sachsen's eyes misted. "Time +that brings the days 'when strong men shall bow +themselves, and the grinders shall cease because +they are few, and the grasshopper shall become a +burden, and desire shall fail.' I wish you were +older, Vrind Pieter."</p> + +<p>The old man sighed. There was a far-away look in +his eyes as though he were striving to pierce the +future and the leagues between Batavia and Bulungan.</p> + +<p>"Vrind Gross," he resumed softly, "we have +known each other a long time. Eight years is a +long time, and it is eight years since you first came +to Batavia. You were a cabin-boy then, and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +ran away from your master because he beat you. +The wharfmaster at Tanjong Priok found you, and +was taking you back to your master when old Sachsen +saw you. Old Sachsen got you free and put +you on another ship, under a good master, who made +a good man and a good <i>zeeman</i> (seaman) out of +you. Do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget!" Peter Gross's voice was +vibrant with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Old Sachsen was your friend then. He has been +your friend through the years since then. He is +your friend to-day. Do you believe that?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross impulsively reached his hand across +the table. Sachsen grasped it and held it.</p> + +<p>"Then to-night you will forgive old Sachsen if +he speaks plainly to you, more plainly than you +would let other men talk? You will listen, and take +his words to heart, and consider them well, Pieter?"</p> + +<p>"Speak, Sachsen!"</p> + +<p>"I knew you would listen, Pieter." Sachsen +drew a deep breath. His eyes rested fondly on his +protégé, and he let go Gross's hand reluctantly as +he leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Vrind Pieter, you said a little while ago that old +Sachsen knows the people who live in these <i>kolonien</i> +(colonies). His knowledge is small—"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross made a gesture of dissent, but Sachsen +did not let him interrupt.</p> + +<p>"Yet he has learned some things. It is something +to have served the state for over two-score years in +the Netherlands East Indies, first as <i>controlleur</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +then as resident in Celebes, in Sumatra, in Java, +and finally as secretary to the <i>gouverneur</i>, as old +Sachsen has. In those years he has seen much that +goes on in the hearts of the black, and the brown, +and the yellow, and the white folk that live in these +sun-seared islands. Much that is wicked, but also +much that is good. And he has seen much of the +fevers that seize men when the sun waves hot and +the blood races madly through their veins. There +is the fever of hate, and the fever of revenge, the +fever of greed, and the fever to grasp God. But +more universal than all these is the fever of love +and the fever of lust!"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's brow knit with a puzzled frown. +"What do you mean, Sachsen?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Sachsen smoothed back his thinning white hair.</p> + +<p>"I am an old, old man, Vrind Pieter," he replied +"Desire has long ago failed me. The passions that +our fiery Java suns breed in men have drained away. +The light that is in a comely woman's eyes, the +thrill that comes at a touch of her warm hand, the +quickened pulse-beat at the feel of her silken hair +brushing over one's face—all these things are ashes +and dust to old Sachsen. Slim ankles, plump calves, +and full rounded breasts mean nothing to him. But +you, Vrind Pieter, are young. You are strong as a +buffalo, bold as a tiger, vigorous as a banyan tree. +You have a young man's warm blood in your veins. +You have the poison of youth in your blood. You +are a man's man, Peter Gross, but you are also a +woman's man."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross's puzzled frown became a look of +blank amazement. "What in the devil are you +driving at, Sachsen?" he demanded, forgetting in his +astonishment that he was in the governor's presence.</p> + +<p>Sachsen leaned forward, his eyes searching his +protégé's.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever loved a woman, Pieter?" he +countered softly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross appeared to be choking. The veins +in his forehead distended.</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with Bulungan?" he demanded. +"You've known me since I was a lad, +Sachsen; you've known all my comings and goings; +why do you ask me such—rot?"</p> + +<p>A grimly humorous smile lit the governor's stern +visage.</p> + +<p>"'Let the strong take heed lest they fall,'" Sachsen +quoted quietly. "Since you say that you love +no woman, let me ask you this—have you ever seen +Koyala?"</p> + +<p>The little flash of passion left Peter Gross's face, +but the puzzled frown remained.</p> + +<p>"Koyala," he repeated thoughtfully. "It seems +to me I have heard the name, but I cannot recall +how or when."</p> + +<p>"Think, think!" Sachsen urged, leaning eagerly +over the table. "The half-white woman of Borneo, +the French trader's daughter by a native woman, +brought up and educated at a mission school in +Sarawak. The Dyaks call her the <i>Bintang Burung</i>. +Ha! I see you know her now."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Leveque's daughter, Chawatangi's grandchild?" +Peter Gross exclaimed. "Of course I know her. +Who doesn't?" His face sobered. "The unhappiest +woman in the archipelago. I wonder she +lives."</p> + +<p>"You have seen her?" Sachsen asked.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's eyes twinkled reminiscently. "Ay, +that I have."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it," Sachsen urged, with an imperceptible +gesture to the governor to say nothing. +He leaned forward expectantly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross cocked an eye at the ceiling. "Let +me see, it was about a year ago," he said. "I was +with McCloud, on the brig <i>Mary Dietrich</i>. McCloud +heard at Macassar that there was a settlement of +Dyaks at the mouth of the Abbas that wanted to +trade in dammar gum and gambir and didn't ask +too much <i>balas</i> (tribute money). We crossed the +straits and found the village. Wolang, the chief, +gave us a big welcome. We spent one day palavering; +these natives won't do anything without having +a <i>bitchara</i> first. The next morning I began loading +operations, while McCloud entertained the <i>orang +kaya</i>, Wolang, with a bottle of gin.</p> + +<p>"The natives crowded around pretty close, particularly +the women, anxious to see what we were +bringing ashore. One girl, quite a pretty girl, went +so far as to step into the boat, and one of my men +swung an arm around her and kissed her. She +screamed."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>The governor took his pipe out of his mouth and +looked up with interest.</p> + +<p>"The next minute the mob of Dyaks parted as +though cut with a scythe. Down the lane came a +woman, a white woman."</p> + +<p>He turned to the secretary. "You have seen +her, Sachsen?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ja</i>, Pieter."</p> + +<p>"Then you can guess how she keeled me over," +Peter Gross said. "I took her for white woman, a +pure blood. She is white; the brown in her skin is +no deeper than in a Spaniard's. She walked up to +me—I could see a hurricane was threatening—and +she said:</p> + +<p>"'You are English? Go back to your ship, now; +don't wait a minute, or you will leave your heads +here.'</p> + +<p>"'Madam,' I said, 'the lad was hasty, but meant +no harm. It will not happen again. I will make the +lady a present.'</p> + +<p>"She turned a look on me that fairly withered +me. '<i>You</i> think you can buy our women, too?' +she said, fairly spitting the words. 'Go! go! Don't +you see my Dyaks fitting arrows in their blow-pipes?'</p> + +<p>"McCloud came running up with Chief Wolang. +'What's this?' he blustered, but Koyala only pointed +to the sea and said the one word:</p> + +<p>"'Go!'</p> + +<p>"McCloud spoke to Wolang, but at a nod from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +Koyala the chief gave an order to his followers. +Fifty Dyaks fitted poisoned arrows into their +<i>sumpitans</i>. McCloud had good judgment; he knew +when it was no use to <i>bitchara</i> and show gin. We +rowed back to the ship without the cargo we expected +to load and set sail at once. Not an arrow +followed us, but the last thing I saw of the village +was Koyala on the beach, watching us dip into the +big rollers of the Celebes Sea."</p> + +<p>"She is beautiful?" Sachsen suggested softly.</p> + +<p>"Ay, quite an attractive young female," Peter +Gross agreed in utmost seriousness. The governor's +grim smile threatened to break out into an open +grin.</p> + +<p>Sachsen looked at the table-top thoughtfully and +rubbed his hands. "She lost you a cargo," he stated. +"You have a score to settle with her." He flashed a +keen glance at his protégé.</p> + +<p>"By God, no!" Peter Gross exclaimed. He +brought his fist down on the table. "She was right, +eternally right. If a scoundrelly scum from over +the sea tried to kiss a woman of my kin in that way +I'd treat him a lot worse than we were treated."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten blew an angry snort that cut like a +knife the huge cloud of tobacco-smoke in which he +had enveloped himself. Peter Gross faced him +truculently.</p> + +<p>"We deserved what we got," he asserted. "When +we whites get over the notion that the world is a +playground for us to spill our lusts and vices on and +the lower races the playthings we can abuse as we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +please, we'll have peace in these islands. Our missionaries +preach morals and Christianity; our +traders, like that damned whelp, Leveque, break +every law of God and man. Between the two the +poor benighted heathen loses all the faith he has and +sinks one grade lower in brutishness than his ancestors +were before him. If all men were like +Brooke of Sarawak we'd have had the East Indies +Christianized by now. The natives were ready to +make gods out of us—they did it with Brooke—but +now they're looking for a chance to put a knife in +our backs—a good many of them are."</p> + +<p>He checked himself. "Here I'm preaching. I +beg your pardon, your excellency."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten blew another great cloud of tobacco-smoke +and said nothing. Through the haze his +eagle-keen eyes searched Peter Gross's face and +noted the firm chin and tightly drawn lips with stern +disapproval. Sachsen flashed him a warning glance +to keep silent.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross," the secretary entreated, "let +me again beg the privileges of an old friend. Is it +admiration for Koyala's beauty or your keen sense +of justice that leads you to so warm a defense?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's reply was prompt and decisive.</p> + +<p>"Vrind Sachsen, if she had been a hag I'd have +thought no different."</p> + +<p>"Search your heart, Vrind Pieter. Is it not because +she was young and comely, a woman unafraid, +that you remember her?"</p> + +<p>"Women are nothing to me," Peter Gross re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>torted +irritably. "But right is right, and wrong is +wrong, whether in Batavia or Bulungan."</p> + +<p>Sachsen shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Vrind Pieter," he declared sadly, "you make +me very much afraid for you. If you had acknowledged, +'The woman was fair, a fair woman stirs +me quickly,' I would have said: 'He is young and +has eyes to see with, but he is too shrewd to be +trapped.' But when you say: 'The fault was ours, +we deserved to lose the cargo,' then I know that you +are blind, blind to your own weakness, Pieter. +Clever, wicked women make fools of such as you, +Pieter."</p> + +<p>One eyebrow arched the merest trifle in the direction +of the governor. Then Sachsen continued:</p> + +<p>"Vrind Pieter, I am here to-night to warn you +against this woman. I have much to tell you about +her, much that is unpleasant. Will you listen?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I am at your service, Sachsen."</p> + +<p>"Will you listen with an open mind? Will you +banish from your thoughts all recollection of the +woman you saw at the mouth of the Abbas River, +all that you know or think you know of her fancied +wrongs, and hear what old Sachsen has to say of the +evil she has done, of the crimes, the piracies, ay, +even rebellions and treasons for which she has been +responsible? What do you say, Vrind Pieter?"</p> + +<p>Pieter Gross swallowed hard. Words seemed to +be struggling to his lips, but he kept them back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +His teeth were pressed together tightly, the silence +became tense.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Sachsen," he finally said. His voice +was studiedly calm. "You come from an old, conservative +race, a race that clings faithfully to the +precepts and ideals of its fathers and is certain of its +footing before it makes a step in advance. You +have the old concept of woman, that her lot is to +bear, to suffer, and to weep. I come from a fresher, +newer race, a race that gives its women the same +liberty of thought and action that it gives its men. +Therefore there are many things concerning the +conduct of this woman that we look at in different +ways. Things that seem improper, ay, sometimes +treasonable, to you, seem a perfectly natural protest +to me. You ignore the wrongs she has suffered, +wrongs that must make life a living hell to her. +You say she must be content with the place to which +God has called her, submerge the white blood in her, +and live a savage among savages."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross pulled his chair nearer the table and +leaned forward. His face glowed with an intense +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Great Scot, Sachsen, think of her condition! +Half white, ay, half French, and that is as proud a +race as breathes. Beautiful—beautiful as the sunrise. +Taught in a missionary school, brought up +as a white child among white children. And then, +when the glory of her womanhood comes upon her, +to learn she is an illegitimate, a half-breed, sister<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +to the savage Dyaks, her only future in their filthy +huts, to kennel with them, breed with them—God, +what a horror that revelation must have been!"</p> + +<p>He raked his fingers through his hair and stared +savagely at the wall.</p> + +<p>"You don't feel these things, Sachsen," he concluded. +"You're Dutch to begin with, and so a +conservative thinker. Then you've been ground +through the routine of colonial service so many +years that you've lost every viewpoint except the +state's expediency. Thank God, I haven't! That +is why I think I can do something for you in Bulungan—"</p> + +<p>He checked himself. "Common sense and a little +elemental justice go a long, long way in dealing +with savages," he observed.</p> + +<p>Sachsen's eyes looked steadily into Peter Gross's. +Sachsen's kindly smile did not falter. But the +governor's patience had reached its limit.</p> + +<p>"Look you here, Mynheer Gross," he exclaimed, +"I want no sympathy for that she-devil from my +resident."</p> + +<p>An angry retort leaped to Peter Gross's lips, but +before it could be uttered Sachsen's hand had leaped +across the table and had gripped his warningly.</p> + +<p>"She may be as beautiful as a houri, but she is a +witch, a very Jezebel," the governor stormed. "I +have nipped a dozen uprisings in the bud, and this +Koyala has been at the bottom of all of them. She +hates us <i>orang blandas</i> with a hate that the fires of +hell could not burn out, but she is subtler than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +serpent that taught Mother Eve. She has bewitched +my <i>controlleur</i>; see that she does not bewitch +you. I have put a price on her head; your +first duty will be to see that she is delivered for safe-keeping +here in Batavia."</p> + +<p>The governor's eyes were sparkling fire. There +was a like anger in Peter Gross's face; he was on the +point of speaking when Sachsen's nails dug so deeply +into his hand that he winced.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross is an American, therefore he is +chivalrous," Sachsen observed. "He aims to be +just, but there is much that he does not understand. +If your excellency will permit me—"</p> + +<p>Van Schouten gave assent by picking up his pipe +and closing his teeth viciously on the mouthpiece.</p> + +<p>Sachsen promptly addressed Peter Gross.</p> + +<p>"Vrind Pieter," he said, "I am glad you have +spoken. Now we understand each other. You are +just what I knew you were, fearless, honest, frank. +You have convinced me the more that you are the +man we must have as resident of Bulungan."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked up distrustfully. Van Schouten, +too, evinced his surprise by taking the pipe +from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"But," Sachsen continued, "you have the common +failing of youth. Youth dreams dreams, it +would rebuild this sorry world and make it Paradise +before the snake. It is sure it can. With age +comes disillusionment. We learn we cannot do +the things we have set our hands to do in the way +we planned. We learn we must compromise. Once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +old Sachsen had thoughts like yours. To-day"—he +smiled tenderly—"he has the beginnings of +wisdom. That is, he has learned that God ordains. +Do you believe that, Vrind Pieter?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, of course," Peter Gross acknowledged, a +trifle bewildered. "But—"</p> + +<p>"Now, concerning this woman," Sachsen cut in +briskly. "We will concede that she was wronged +before she was born. We will concede the sin of her +father. We will concede his second sin, leaving her +mother to die in the jungle. We will concede the +error, if error it was, to educate Koyala in a mission +school among white children. We will concede +the fatal error of permitting her to return to her +own people, knowing the truth of her birth."</p> + +<p>His voice took a sharper turn.</p> + +<p>"But there are millions of children born in your +own land, in my land, in every land, with deformed +bodies, blind perhaps, crippled, with faces uglier +than baboons. Why? Because one or both of their +parents sinned. Now I ask you," he demanded +harshly, "whether these children, because of the +sin of their parents, have the right to commit crimes, +plot murders, treasons, rebellions, and stir savage +people to wars of extermination against their white +rulers? What is your answer?"</p> + +<p>"That is not the question," Peter Gross began, +but Sachsen interrupted.</p> + +<p>"It is the question. It was the sin of the parent +in both cases. Leveque sinned; his daughter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +Koyala, suffers. Parents sin everywhere, their children +must suffer."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross stared at the wall thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Look you here, Vrind Pieter," Sachsen said, +"learn this great truth. The state is first, then the +individual. Always the good of the whole people, +that is the state, first, then the good of the individual. +Thousands may suffer, thousands may die, but if +the race benefits, the cost is nothing. This law is +as old as man. Each generation says it a new way, +but the law is the same. And so with this Koyala. +She was wronged, we will admit it. But she cannot +be permitted to make the whole white race pay for +those wrongs and halt progress in Borneo for a +generation. She will have justice; his excellency is a +just man. But first there must be peace in Bulungan. +There must be no more plottings, no more +piracies, no more head-hunting. The spear-heads +must be separated from their shafts, the krisses must +be buried, the <i>sumpitans</i> must be broken in two. If +Koyala will yield, this can be done. If you can +persuade her to trust us, Pieter, half your work is +done. Bulungan will become one of our fairest +residencies, its trade will grow, the piracies will be +swept from the seas, and the days of head-hunting +will become a tradition."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross bowed his head.</p> + +<p>"God help me, I will," he vowed.</p> + +<p>"But see that she does not seduce you, Vrind +Pieter," the old man entreated earnestly. "You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +are both young, she is fair, and she is a siren, a +vampire. Hold fast to your God, to your faith, to +the oath you take as a servant of the state, and do +not let her beauty blind you—no, nor your own +warm heart either, Pieter."</p> + +<p>Sachsen rose. There were tears in his eyes as he +looked fondly down at the young man that owed +so much to him.</p> + +<p>"Pieter," he said, "old Sachsen will pray for you. +I must leave you now, Pieter; the governor desires +to talk to you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Pirate League</span></h3> + + +<p>As Sachsen left the room the governor snapped +shut the silver cap on the porcelain bowl +of his pipe and regretfully laid the pipe aside.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nu</i>, Mynheer Gross, what troops will you need?" +he asked in a business-like manner. "I have one +thousand men here in Java that you may have if +you need them. For the sea there is the gun-boat, +<i>Prins Lodewyk</i>, and the cutter, <i>Katrina</i>, both of +which I place at your disposal."</p> + +<p>"I do not need a thousand men, your excellency," +Peter Gross replied quietly.</p> + +<p>"Ha! I thought not!" the governor exclaimed +with satisfaction. "An army is useless in the jungle. +Let them keep their crack troops in the Netherlands +and give me a few hundred irregulars who +know the cane and can bivouac in the trees if they +have to. Your Amsterdammer looks well enough on +parade, but his skin is too thin for our mosquitoes. +But that is beside the question. Would five hundred +men be enough, Mynheer Gross? We have a +garrison of fifty at Bulungan."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross frowned reflectively at the table-top.</p> + +<p>"I would not need five hundred men, your excellency," +he announced.</p> + +<p>The governor's smile broadened. "You know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +more about jungle warfare than I gave you credit +for, Mynheer Gross," he complimented. "But I +should have known that the rescuer of Lieutenant +de Koren was no novice. Only this morning I remarked +to General Vanden Bosch that a capable +commander and three hundred experienced bush-fighters +are enough to drive the last pirate out of +Bulungan and teach our Dyaks to cultivate their +long-neglected plantations. What say you to three +hundred of our best colonials, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I will not need three hundred men, your excellency," +Peter Gross declared.</p> + +<p>Van Schouten leaned back in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mynheer Gross, how large a force will +you need?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's long, ungainly form settled lower in +his chair. His legs crossed and his chin sagged into +the palm of his right hand. The fingers pulled +gently at his cheeks. After a moment's contemplation +he looked up to meet the governor's inquiring +glance and remarked:</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, I shall need about twenty-five +men."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten stared at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five men, Mynheer Gross!" he exclaimed. +"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five men, men like I have in mind, will +be all I will need, your excellency," Peter Gross +assured gravely.</p> + +<p>Van Schouten edged his chair nearer. "Mynheer +Gross, do you understand me correctly?" he asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +doubtfully. "I would make you resident of Bulungan. +I would give you supreme authority in the +province. The commandant, Captain Van Slyck, +would be subject to your orders. You will be +answerable only to me."</p> + +<p>"Under no other conditions would I accept your +excellency's appointment," Peter Gross declared.</p> + +<p>"But, Mynheer Gross, what can twenty-five do? +Bulungan has more than one hundred thousand +inhabitants, few of whom have ever paid a picul of +rice or kilo of coffee as tax to the crown. On the +coast there are the Chinese pirates, the Bugi outlaws +from Macassar and their traitorous allies, the +coast Dyaks of Bulungan, of Tidoeng, and Pasir, +ay, as far north as Sarawak, for those British keep +their house in no better order than we do ours. In +the interior we have the hill Dyaks, the worst thieves +and cut-throats of them all. But these things you +know. I ask you again, what can twenty-five do +against so many?"</p> + +<p>"With good fortune, bring peace to Bulungan," +Peter Gross replied confidently.</p> + +<p>The governor leaned aggressively across the table +and asked the one-word pointed question:</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross uncrossed his legs and tugged gravely +at his chin.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency," he said, "I have a plan, not +fully developed as yet, but a plan. As your excellency +well knows, there are two nations of Dyaks +in the province. There are the hillmen—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Damned thieving, murdering, head-hunting +scoundrels!" the governor growled savagely.</p> + +<p>"So your excellency has been informed. But I +believe that much of the evil that is said of them is +untrue. They are savages, wilder savages than the +coast Dyaks, and less acquainted with <i>blanken</i> +(white men). Many of them are head-hunters. +But they have suffered cruelly from the coast Dyaks, +with whom, as your excellency has said, they have +an eternal feud."</p> + +<p>"They are pests," the governor snarled. "They +keep the lowlands in a continual turmoil with their +raids. We cannot grow a blade of rice on account of +them."</p> + +<p>"That is where your excellency and I must disagree," +Peter Gross asserted quietly.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" the governor exclaimed incredulously. +"What do you say, Mynheer Gross?"</p> + +<p>"Your excellency, living in Batavia, you have +seen only one side of this question, the side your +underlings have shown you. With your excellency's +permission I shall show you another side, the side a +stranger, unprejudiced, with no axes to grind either +way, saw in his eight years of sailoring about these +islands. Have I your excellency's permission?"</p> + +<p>A frown gathered on the governor's face. His thin +lips curled, and his bristly mane rose belligerently.</p> + +<p>"Proceed," he snapped.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross rested his elbows on the table and +leaned toward the governor.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency," he began, "let it be under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>stood +that I bring no accusations to-night; that we +are speaking as man to man. I go to Bulungan to +inquire into the truth of the things I have heard. +Whatever I learn shall be faithfully reported to your +excellency."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten nodded curtly.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency has spoken of the unrest in Bulungan," +Peter Gross continued. "Your excellency +also spoke of piracies committed in these seas. It +is my belief, your excellency, that the government +has been mistaken in assuming that there is no connection +between the two. I am satisfied that there +is a far closer union and a better understanding between +the Dyaks and the pirates than has ever been +dreamed of here in Batavia."</p> + +<p>The governor smiled derisively.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Mynheer Gross," he contradicted. +"I almost believed so, too, at one time, +and I had Captain Van Slyck, our commandant at +Bulungan, investigate for me. I have his report +here. I shall be glad to let you read it."</p> + +<p>He tapped a gong. In a moment Sachsen bustled +in.</p> + +<p>"Sachsen," the governor said, "Kapitein Van +Slyck's report on the pirates of the straits, if you +please."</p> + +<p>Sachsen bowed and withdrew.</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to read the captain's report," +Peter Gross assured gravely. A grimly humorous +twinkle lurked in his eyes. The governor was quick +to note it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But it will not convince you, eh, <i>mynheer</i>?" he +challenged. He smiled. "You Yankees are an +obstinate breed—almost as stubborn as we Dutch."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that the captain's report will not +cover things I know," Peter Gross replied. "Yet +I have no doubt it will be helpful."</p> + +<p>The subtle irony his voice expressed caused the +governor to look at him quizzically, but Van Schouten +was restrained from further inquiry by the +return of Sachsen with the report. The governor +glanced at the superscription and handed the document +to Peter Gross with the remark: "Read that +at your leisure. I will have Sachsen make you a +copy."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross pocketed the report with a murmured +word of thanks. The governor frowned, trying to +recollect where the thread of conversation had been +broken, and then remarked:</p> + +<p>"As I say, Mynheer Gross, I am sure you will +find yourself mistaken. The Dyaks are thieves and +head-hunters, a treacherous breed. They do not +know the meaning of loyalty—God help us if they +did! No two villages have ever yet worked together +for a common aim. As for the pirates, they are +wolves that prey on everything that comes in their +path. Some of the <i>orang kayas</i> may be friendly +with them, but as for there being any organization—bah! +it is too ridiculous to even discuss it."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's lips pressed a little tighter.</p> + +<p>"Your excellency," he replied with perfect equanimity, +"you have your opinion and I have mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +My work in Bulungan, I hope, will show which of us +is right. Yet I venture to say this. Before I have +left Bulungan I shall be able to prove to your excellency +that one man, not so very far from your excellency's +<i>paleis</i> at this moment, has united the majority +of the sea Dyaks and the pirates into a formidable +league of which he is the head. More than +this, he has established a system of espionage which +reaches into this very house."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten stared at Peter Gross in amazement +and incredulity.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross," he finally exclaimed, "this is +nonsense!"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's eyes flashed. "Your excellency," +he retorted, "it is the truth."</p> + +<p>"What proofs have you?" the governor demanded.</p> + +<p>"None at present that could convince your excellency," +Peter Gross admitted frankly. "All I have +is a cumulative series of instances, unrelated in +themselves, scraps of conversations picked up here +and there, little things that have come under my +observation in my sojourns in many ports of the +archipelago. But in Bulungan I expect to get the +proofs. When I have them, I shall give them to your +excellency, that justice may be done. Until then I +make no charges. All I say is—guard carefully what +you would not have your enemies know."</p> + +<p>"This is extraordinary," the governor remarked, +impressed by Peter Gross's intense earnestness. +"Surely you do not expect me to believe all this on +your unsupported word, <i>mynheer</i>?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The best corroboration which I can offer is that +certain matters which your excellency thought were +known only to himself are now common gossip from +Batavia to New Guinea," Peter Gross replied.</p> + +<p>The governor's head drooped. His face became +drawn. Lines formed where none had been before. +The jauntiness, the pompous self-assurance, and the +truculence that so distinguished him among his +fellows disappeared from his mien; it was as though +years of anxiety and care had suddenly passed over +him.</p> + +<p>"This discussion brings us nowhere, Mynheer +Gross," he wearily remarked. "Let us decide how +large a force you should have. What you have +told me convinces me the more that you will need +at least two hundred men. I hesitate to send you +with less than a regiment."</p> + +<p>"Let me deal with this situation in my own way, +your excellency," Peter Gross pleaded. "I believe +that just dealing will win the confidence of the upland +Dyaks. Once that is done, the rest is easy. +Twenty-five men, backed by the garrison at Bulungan +and the hill Dyaks, will be able to break up the +pirate bands, if the navy does its share. After that +the problem is one of administration, to convince +the coast Dyaks that the state is fair, that the state +is just, and that the state's first thought is the welfare +of her people, be they brown, black, or white."</p> + +<p>"You think twenty-five men can do all that?" +the governor asked doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"The men I shall choose can, your excellency.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +They will be men whom I can trust absolutely, +who have no interests except the service of Peter +Gross."</p> + +<p>"Where will you find them, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Here in Java, your excellency. Americans. +Sailors who have left the sea. Men who came here +to make their fortunes and failed and are too proud +to go back home. Soldiers from the Philippines, adventurers, +lads disappointed in love. I could name +you a dozen such here in Batavia now."</p> + +<p>The governor looked at his new lieutenant long +and thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Do as you deem best, <i>mynheer</i>. It may be God +has sent you here to teach us why we have failed. +Is there anything else you need, besides the usual +stores?"</p> + +<p>"There is one more request I wish to make of +your excellency," Peter Gross replied.</p> + +<p>"And that is—"</p> + +<p>"That your excellency cancel the reward offered +for the arrest of Leveque's daughter."</p> + +<p>Van Schouten stroked his brow with a gesture of +infinite weariness.</p> + +<p>"You make strange requests, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed. +"Yet I am moved to trust you. What you +ask shall be done."</p> + +<p>He rose to signify that the interview was at an +end. "You may make your requisitions through +Sachsen, <i>mynheer</i>. God speed you and give you +wisdom beyond your years."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller Worries</span></h3> + + +<p>Seated in a low-framed rattan chair on the +broad veranda of his cottage, Mynheer Hendrik +Muller, <i>controlleur</i>, and acting resident of +Bulungan, awaited in perspiring impatience the appearance +of his military associate, Captain Gerrit +Van Slyck.</p> + +<p>State regulations required daily conferences, that +the civil arm of the government might lay its commands +upon the military and the military make its +requisitions upon the civil. An additional incentive +to prompt attendance upon these was that <i>mynheer</i> +the resident rarely failed to produce a bottle of +Hollands, which, compounded with certain odorous +and acidulated products of the tropics, made a drink +that cooled the fevered brow and mellowed the +human heart, made a hundred and twenty in the +shade seem like seventy, and chased away the home-sickness +of folk pining for the damp and fog of their +native Amsterdam.</p> + +<p>It was no urgent affair of state, however, that +made Muller fume and fuss like a washerwoman on a +rainy Monday at Van Slyck's dilatoriness. A bit +of gossip, casually dropped by the master of a trading +schooner who had called for clearance papers an +hour before, was responsible for his agitation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When does your new resident arrive?" the visiting +skipper had asked.</p> + +<p>"The new resident?" Muller returned blankly. +"What new resident?"</p> + +<p>The skipper perceived that he was the bearer of +unpleasant tidings and diplomatically minimized +the importance of his news.</p> + +<p>"Somebody down to Batavia told me you were +going to have a new resident here," he replied lightly. +"It's only talk, I s'pose. You hear so many yarns in +port."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing official—yet," Muller declared. +He had the air of one who could tell much if he chose. +But when the sailor had gone back to his ship he +hurriedly sent Cho Seng to the stockade with an +urgent request to Van Slyck to come to his house at +once.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck was putting the finishing touches to an +exquisite toilet when he received the message.</p> + +<p>"What ails the doddering old fool now?" he +growled irritably as he read Muller's appeal. "Another +Malay run amuck, I suppose. Every time a +few of these <i>bruinevels</i> (brown-skins) get krissed he +thinks the whole province is going to flame into +revolt."</p> + +<p>Tossing the note into an urn, he leisurely resumed +his dressing. It was not until he was carefully +barbered, his hair shampooed and perfumed, his +nails manicured, and his mustache waxed and twisted +to the exact angle that a two-months old French +magazine of fashion dictated as the mode, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +dapper captain left the stockade. He was quite +certain that the last living representative of the +ancient house of Van Slyck of Amsterdam would +never be seen in public in dirty linen and unwashed, +regardless how far <i>mynheer the controlleur</i> might +forget his self-respect and the dignity of his office.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck was leisurely strolling along the tree-lined +lane that led from the iron-wood stockade to +the cluster of houses colloquially designated "Amsterdam" +when the impatient Muller perceived his +approach.</p> + +<p>"Devil take the man, why doesn't he hurry?" +the <i>controlleur</i> swore. With a peremptory gesture he +signaled Van Slyck to make haste.</p> + +<p>"By the beard of Nassau," the captain exclaimed. +"Does that swine think he can make a Van Slyck +skip like a butcher's boy? Things have come to a +pretty pass in the colonies when a Celebes half-breed +imagines he can make the best blood of +Amsterdam fetch and carry for him."</p> + +<p>Deliberately turning his back on the <i>controlleur</i>, +he affected to admire the surpassingly beautiful +bay of Bulungan, heaven's own blue melting into +green on the shingly shore, with a thousand sabres +of iridescent foam stabbing the morning horizon. +Muller was fuming when the commandant finally +sauntered on the veranda, selected a fat, black +cigar from the humidor, and gracefully lounged in an +easy chair.</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem! kapitein</i>, but you lie abed +later every morning," he growled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<p>Van Slyck's thin lips curled with aristocratic +scorn.</p> + +<p>"We cannot all be such conscientious public +servants as you, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed ironically.</p> + +<p>Muller was in that state of nervous agitation that a +single jarring word would have roused an unrestricted +torrent of abuse. Fortunately for Van Slyck, however, +he was obtuse to irony. He took the remark +literally and for the moment, like oil on troubled +waters, it calmed the rising tide of his wrath at what +he deemed the governor-general's black ingratitude.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>kapitein, gij kebt gelijk</i> (you are right, captain)" +he assented heavily. The blubbery folds +under his chin crimsoned with his cheeks in complacent +self-esteem. "There are not many men who +would have done so well as I have under the conditions +I had to face—under the conditions I had to +face—<i>kapitein</i>. <i>Ja!</i> Not many men. I have +worked and slaved to build up this residency. For +two years now I have done a double duty—I have +been both resident and <i>controlleur</i>. <i>Jawel!</i>"</p> + +<p>Recollection of the skipper's unpleasant news +recurred to him. His face darkened like a tropic +sky before a cloudburst.</p> + +<p>"And what is my reward, <i>kapitein</i>? What is my +reward? To have some <i>Amsterdamsche papegaai</i> +(parrot) put over me." His fist came down wrathily +on the arm of his chair. "Ten thousand devils! It +is enough to make a man turn pirate."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's cynical face lit with a sudden interest.</p> + +<p>"You have heard from Ah Sing?" he inquired.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah Sing? No. <i>Drommel noch toe!</i>" Muller +swore. "Who mentioned Ah Sing? That thieving +Deutscher who runs the schooner we had in port +over-night told me this not an hour ago. The whole +of Batavia knows it. They are talking it in every +<i>rumah makan</i>. And we sit here and know nothing. +That is the kind of friends we have in Batavia."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck, apprehensive that the impending +change might affect him, speculated swiftly how +much the <i>controlleur</i> knew.</p> + +<p>"It is strange that Ah Sing hasn't let us know," +he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing?" Muller growled. "Ah Sing? That +bloodsucker is all for himself. He would sell us out +to Van Schouten in a minute if he thought he saw +any profit in it. <i>Ja!</i> I have even put money into +his ventures, and this is how he treats me."</p> + +<p>"Damnably, I must say," Van Slyck agreed sympathetically. +"That is, if he knows."</p> + +<p>"If he knows, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>? Of course he +knows. Has he not <i>agenten</i> in every corner of this +archipelago? Has he not a spy in the <i>paleis</i> itself?"</p> + +<p>"He should have sent us word," Van Slyck agreed. +"Unless <i>mynheer</i>, the new resident, is one of us. +Who did you say it is, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>"How the devil should I know?" Muller growled +irritably. "All I know is what I told you—that the +whole of Batavia says Bulungan is to have a new +resident."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's face fell. He had hoped that the +<i>controlleur</i> knew at least the identity of the new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +executive of the province. Having extracted all +the information Muller had, he dropped the cloak of +sympathy and remarked with cool insolence:</p> + +<p>"Since you don't know, I think you had better +make it your business to find out, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>Muller looked at him doubtfully. "You might +make an effort also, <i>kapitein</i>," he suggested. "You +have friends in Batavia. It is your concern as well +as mine, a new resident would ruin our business."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will," Van Slyck replied coolly. +"If he isn't one of us he won't bother us long. Ah +Sing won't let any prying reformer interfere with +business while the profits are coming in as well as +they are."</p> + +<p>A shadow of anxiety crossed Muller's face. He +cast a troubled look at Van Slyck, who affected to +admire the multi-tinted color display of jungle, sun, +and sea.</p> + +<p>"What—what do you mean, <i>kapitein</i>?" he asked +hesitantly.</p> + +<p>"People sometimes begin voyages they do not +finish," Van Slyck observed. "A man might eat a +pomegranate that didn't agree with him—pouf—the +colic, and it is all over. There is nothing so +uncertain as life, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>The captain replaced his cigar between his teeth +with a flourish. Muller's pudgy hands caught each +other convulsively. The folds under his chin flutterred. +He licked his lips before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kapitein</i>—you mean he might come to an unhappy +end on the way?" he faltered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not?" Van Slyck concentrated his attention +on his cigar.</p> + +<p>"<i>Neen, neen</i>, let us have no bloodshed," Muller +vetoed anxiously. "We have had enough—" He +looked around nervously as though he feared someone +might be overhearing him. "Let him alone. +We shall find some way to get rid of him. But let +there be no killing."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck turned his attention from the landscape +to the <i>controlleur</i>. There was a look in the +captain's face that made Muller wince and shift his +eyes, a look of cyincal contempt, calm, frank, and +unconcealed. It was the mask lifting, for Van Slyck +despised his associate. Bold and unscrupulous, +sticking at nothing that might achieve his end, he +had no patience with the timid, faltering, often +conscience-stricken <i>controlleur</i>.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>mynheer</i>," Van Slyck observed at length, +"you are getting remarkably thin-skinned all of a +sudden."</p> + +<p>He laughed sardonically. Muller winced and +replied hastily:</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking, <i>kapitein</i>, that the proa +crews have been doing too much killing lately. I +am going to tell Ah Sing that it must be stopped. +There are other ways—we can unload the ships and +land their crews on some island—"</p> + +<p>"To starve, or to be left to the tender mercies of +the Bajaus and the Bugis," Van Slyck sneered. +"That would be more tender-hearted. You would +at least transfer the responsibility."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>Muller's agitation became more pronounced.</p> + +<p>"But we must not let it go on, <i>kapitein</i>," he urged. +"It hurts the business. Pretty soon we will have +an investigation, one of these gun-boats will pick up +one of our proas, somebody will tell, and what will +happen to us then?"</p> + +<p>"We'll be hung," Van Slyck declared succinctly.</p> + +<p>Muller's fingers leaped in an involuntary frantic +gesture to his throat, as though he felt cords tightening +around his windpipe. His face paled.</p> + +<p>"<i>Lieve hemel, kapitein</i>, don't speak of such things," +he gasped.</p> + +<p>"Then don't talk drivel," Van Slyck snarled. +"You can't make big profits without taking big +chances. And you can't have piracy without a little +blood-letting. We're in this now, and there's no +going back. So stop your squealing."</p> + +<p>Settling back into his chair, he looked calmly +seaward and exhaled huge clouds of tobacco smoke. +The frown deepened on Muller's troubled brow as +he stared vacantly across the crushed coral-shell +highway.</p> + +<p>"You can think of no reason why his excellency +should be offended with us, <i>kapitein</i>?" he ventured +anxiously.</p> + +<p>The <i>controlleur's</i> eagerness to include him in +his misfortune, evidenced by the use of the plural +pronoun, evoked a sardonic flicker in Van Slyck's +cold, gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"No, <i>mynheer</i>, I cannot conceive why the governor +should want to get rid of so valuable a public<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +servant as you are," he assured ironically. "You +have certainly done your best. There have been +a few disturbances, of course, some head-hunting, +and the taxes have not been paid, but outside of +such minor matters everything has done well, very +well indeed."</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem</i>," Muller exclaimed, "how +can I raise taxes when those Midianites, the hill +Dyaks, will not let my coast Dyaks grow a spear of +rice? Has there been a month without a raid? +Answer me, <i>kapitein</i>. Have you spent a whole month +in the stockade without being called to beat back +some of these thieving plunderers and drive them +into their hills?"</p> + +<p>The sardonic smile flashed across Van Slyck's +face again.</p> + +<p>"Quite true, <i>mynheer</i>. But sometimes I don't +know if I blame the poor devils. They tell me +they're only trying to get even because your coast +Dyaks and Ah Sing's crowd rob them so. Ah Sing +must be making quite a profit out of the slave business. +I'll bet he shipped two hundred to China last +year."</p> + +<p>He glanced quizzically at his associate.</p> + +<p>"By the way, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed, "you ought +to know something about that. I understand you +get a per cent on it."</p> + +<p>"I?" Muller exclaimed, and looked affrightedly +about him. "I, <i>kapitein</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you do," Van Slyck asserted airily. +"You've got money invested with Ah Sing in two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +proas that are handling that end of the business. +And it's the big end just now. The merchandise +pickings are small, and that is all I share in."</p> + +<p>He looked at Muller meaningly. There was +menace in his eyes and menace in his voice as he +announced:</p> + +<p>"I'm only mentioning this, <i>mynheer</i>, so that if the +new resident should happen to be one of us, with a +claim to the booty, his share comes out of your pot, +not mine. Remember that!"</p> + +<p>For once cupidity overcame Muller's fear of the +sharp-witted cynical soldier.</p> + +<p>"<i>Wat de drommel</i>," he roared, "do you expect me +to pay all, <i>kapitein</i>, all? Not in a thousand years! +If there must be a division you shall give up your +per cent as well as I, <i>stuiver</i> for <i>stuiver</i>, <i>gulden</i> for +<i>gulden</i>!"</p> + +<p>A hectic spot glowed in each of Van Slyck's cheeks, +and his eyes glittered. Muller's anger rose.</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing shall decide between us," he cried heatedly. +"You cannot rob me in that way, <i>kapitein</i>."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck turned on his associate with an oath. +"Ah Sing be damned. We'll divide as I say, or—"</p> + +<p>The pause was more significant than words. +Muller's ruddy face paled. Van Slyck tapped a +forefinger significantly on the arm of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Just remember, if the worst comes to the worst, +there's this one difference between you and me, +<i>mynheer</i>. I'm not afraid to die, and you—are!" +He smiled.</p> + +<p>Muller's breath came thickly, and he stared fas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>cinatedly +into the evilly handsome face of the captain, +whose eyes were fixed on his with a basilisk +glare. Several seconds passed; then Van Slyck said:</p> + +<p>"See that you remember these things, <i>mynheer</i>, +when our next accounting comes."</p> + +<p>The silence that followed was broken by the +rhythmic pad-pad of wicker sandals on a bamboo +floor. Cho Seng came on the veranda, bearing a +tray laden with two glasses of finest crystal and a +decanter of colorless liquid, both of which he placed +on a small porch table. Drops of dew formed thickly +on the chilled surface of the decanter and rolled off +while the Chinaman mixed the juices of fruits and +crushed leaves with the potent liquor. The unknown +discoverer of the priceless recipe he used +receives more blessings in the Indies daily than all +the saints on the calendar. When Cho Seng had +finished, he withdrew. Muller swallowed the contents +of his glass in a single gulp. Van Slyck sipped +leisurely. Gradually the tension lessened. After +a while, between sips, the captain remarked:</p> + +<p>"I hear you have a chance to pick up some prize +money."</p> + +<p>Muller looked up with interest. "So, <i>kapitein</i>!" +he exclaimed with forced jocularity. "Have you +found a place where guilders grow on trees?"</p> + +<p>"Almost as good as that," Van Slyck replied, +playing his fish.</p> + +<p>Finesse and indirection were not Muller's forte. +"Well, tell us about it, <i>kapitein</i>," he demanded +bluntly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>Van Slyck's eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"Catch Koyala," he replied.</p> + +<p>The captain's meaning sank into Muller's mind +slowly. But as comprehension began to dawn upon +him, his face darkened. The veins showed purple +under the ruddy skin.</p> + +<p>"You are too clever this morning, <i>kapitein</i>," he +snarled. "Let me remind you that this is your +duty. The <i>controlleur</i> sits as judge, he does not +hunt the accused."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck laughed.</p> + +<p>"And let me remind you, <i>mynheer</i>, that I haven't +received the governor's orders as yet, although they +reached you more than a week ago." Ironically he +added: "You must not let your friendship with +Koyala blind you to your public duties, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>Muller's face became darker still. He had not +told any one, and the fact that the orders seemed to +be public property both alarmed and angered him.</p> + +<p>"How did you hear of it?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Not from you, <i>mynheer</i>," Van Slyck mocked. +"I really do not remember who told me." (As a +matter of fact it was Wang Fu, the Chinese merchant.)</p> + +<p>Muller reflected that officers from the gun-boat +which carried Van Schouten's mandate might have +told more than they should have at the stockade. +But Koyala had received his warning a full week +before, so she must be safely hidden in the jungle by +now, he reasoned. Pulling himself together, he +replied urbanely:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, <i>kapitein</i>, it is true that I have rather neglected +that matter. I intended to speak to you +to-day. His excellency orders Koyala Bintang +Burung's arrest."</p> + +<p>"The argus pheasant," Van Slyck observed, "is +rarely shot. It must be trapped."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nu, kapitein</i>, that is a chance for you to distinguish +yourself," Muller replied heartily, confident +that Van Slyck could never land Koyala.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck flecked the ash from his cigar and +looked at the glowing coal thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that you might be of material +assistance, <i>mynheer</i>," he observed.</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"I have noticed that the witch-woman is not—er—" +He glanced at Muller quizzically, wondering +how far he might venture to go—"not altogether +indifferent to you."</p> + +<p>Muller drew a deep breath. His ruddy face +became a grayish purple. His clenched hands +gripped each other until the bones crunched and the +veins stood in ridges. Drops of perspiration gathered +on his forehead, he wiped them away mechanically.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kapitein!</i>" he gasped.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck looked at him increduously, for he had +not dreamed Muller's feelings ran so deeply.</p> + +<p>"You think—she—sometimes thinks of me?"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's nimble wits were calculating the value +to him of this new weakness of the <i>controlleur</i>. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +foresaw infinite possibilities, Muller in love would be +clay in his hands.</p> + +<p>"I am positive, <i>mynheer</i>," he assured with the +utmost gravity.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kapitein</i>, do not make a mistake," Muller entreated. +His voice trembled and broke. "Are you +absolutely sure?"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck restrained a guffaw with difficulty. +It was so ridiculous—this mountain of flesh, this +sweaty, panting porpoise in his unwashed linen in +love with the slender, graceful Koyala. He choked +and coughed discreetly.</p> + +<p>"I am certain, <i>mynheer</i>," he assured.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, <i>kapitein</i>, what makes you think so?" +Muller begged.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck forced himself to calmness and a judicial +attitude.</p> + +<p>"You know I have seen something of women, +<i>mynheer</i>," he replied gravely. "Both women here +and in the best houses in Amsterdam, Paris, and +London. Believe me, they are all the same—a fine +figure of a man attracts them."</p> + +<p>He ran his eye over Muller's form in assumed +admiration.</p> + +<p>"You have a figure any woman might admire, +<i>mynheer</i>. I have seen Koyala's eyes rest on you, +and I know what she was thinking. You have but +to speak and she is yours."</p> + +<p>"Say you so, <i>kapitein</i>!" Muller cried ecstatically.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely," Van Slyck assured. His eyes nar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>rowed. +The devilish humor incarnate in him could +not resist the temptation to harrow this tortured +soul. Watching Muller closely, he inquired:</p> + +<p>"Then I can expect you to spread the net, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>The light died in Muller's eyes. A slow, volcanic +fury succeeded it. He breathed deeply and exhaled +the breath in an explosive gasp. His hands clenched +and the veins in his forehead became almost black. +Van Slyck and he leaped to their feet simultaneously.</p> + +<p>"Kapitein Van Slyck," he cried hoarsely, "you +are a scoundrel! You would sell your own mother. +Get out of my sight, or God help you, I will break +you in two."</p> + +<p>The door of the <i>controlleur's</i> dwelling opened. +Muller leaped back, and Van Slyck's hand leaped +to his holster.</p> + +<p>"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," a clear, silvery +voice announced coolly.</p> + +<p>Koyala stood in the doorway.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Warning</span></h3> + + +<p>For a moment no one spoke. Koyala, poised +lightly on her feet, her slender, shapely +young figure held rigidly and her chin uptilted, +gazed steadily at Van Slyck. Her black eyes +blazed a scornful defiance. Before her contempt +even the proud Amsterdammer's arrogance succumbed. +He reddened shamefacedly under his +tan.</p> + +<p>"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," Koyala repeated +clearly. She stepped toward him and +reached out a slender, shapely arm, bare to the +shoulder. "Here is my arm, where are your manacles, +<i>kapitein</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Koyala!" Muller gasped huskily. His big body +was trembling with such violence that the veranda +shook.</p> + +<p>"This is my affair, <i>mynheer</i>," Koyala declared +coldly, without removing her eyes from Van Slyck. +She placed herself directly in front of the captain and +crossed her wrists.</p> + +<p>"If you have no irons, use a cord, <i>kapitein</i>," she +taunted. "But bind fast. The Argus Pheasant is +not easily held captive."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>Van Slyck thrust her roughly aside.</p> + +<p>"Let's have done with this foolishness," he exclaimed +bruskly.</p> + +<p>"What folly, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>?" Koyala demanded +frigidly.</p> + +<p>"You had no business eavesdropping. If you +heard something unpleasant you have only yourself to +blame."</p> + +<p>Koyala's eyes sparkled with anger.</p> + +<p>"Eavesdropping, <i>kapitein</i>? I came here with a +message of great importance to <i>mynheer</i> the <i>controlleur</i>. +Even the birds cock their ears to listen +when they hear the hunter approach, <i>kapitein</i>."</p> + +<p>Turning her back with scornful indifference on Van +Slyck, she crossed over to Muller and placed both +her hands on his shoulder. Another fit of trembling +seized the acting resident and his eyes swam.</p> + +<p>"You will forgive me, will you not, <i>mynheer</i>, for +taking such liberties in your house?"</p> + +<p>"Of—of course," Muller stammered.</p> + +<p>"I heard a little of what was said," Koyala +said; "enough to show me that I have a good friend +here, a friend on whom I can always rely."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck caught the emphasis on the word +"friend" and smiled sardonically.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>Sister</i> Koyala," he remarked mockingly, +"if you and <i>Brother</i> Muller will be seated we will hear +your important message."</p> + +<p>Muller plumped heavily into a chair. Things had +been going too rapidly for him, his heavy wits were +badly addled, and he needed time to compose himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +and get a fresh grip on the situation. There was +only one other chair on the veranda. Perceiving +this, Van Slyck sprang forward and placed it for +Koyala, smiling satirically as he did so. Koyala +frowned with annoyance, hesitated a moment, then +accepted it. Van Slyck swung a leg over the +veranda rail.</p> + +<p>"Your message, my dear Koyala," he prompted. +He used the term of endearment lingeringly, with a +quick side glance at Muller, but the <i>controlleur</i> was +oblivious to both.</p> + +<p>"The message is for Mynheer Muller," Koyala +announced icily.</p> + +<p>"Ah? So?" Van Slyck swung the leg free and +rose. "Then I am not needed. I bid the dear +bother and sister adieux."</p> + +<p>He made an elaborate French bow and started +to leave. The embarrassed Muller made a hasty +protest.</p> + +<p>"Ho, <i>kapitein</i>!" he cried, "do not leave us. +<i>Donder en bliksem!</i> the message may be for us both. +Who is it from, Koyala?"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck was divided between two desires. He +saw that Muller was in a panic at the thought of +being left alone with Koyala, and for that reason +was keenly tempted to get out of sight as quickly as +possible. On the other hand he was curious to +hear her communication, aware that only a matter +of unusual import could have called her from the +bush. Undecided, he lingered on the steps.</p> + +<p>"It was from Ah Sing," Koyala announced.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>Van Slyck's indecision vanished. He stepped +briskly back on the porch.</p> + +<p>"From Ah Sing?" he exclaimed. "Mynheer +Muller and I were just discussing his affairs. Does +it concern the new resident we are to have?"</p> + +<p>"It does," Koyala acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" Muller and the captain cried in the +same breath.</p> + +<p>Koyala glanced vindictively at Van Slyck.</p> + +<p>"You are sure that you will not sell me to him, +<i>mynheer kapitein</i>?"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck scowled. "Tell us about the resident," +he directed curtly.</p> + +<p>Koyala's eyes sparkled maliciously.</p> + +<p>"The new resident, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>, seems to +have a higher opinion of me than you have. You +see, he has already persuaded the governor to withdraw +the offer he made for my person."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck bit his lip, but ignored the thrust.</p> + +<p>"Then he's one of us?" he demanded bruskly.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, he is a most dangerous enemy," +Koyala contradicted.</p> + +<p>"<i>Lieve hemel</i>, don't keep us waiting," Muller +cried impatiently. "Who is it, Koyala?"</p> + +<p>"A sailor, <i>mynheer</i>," Koyala announced.</p> + +<p>"A sailor?" Van Slyck exclaimed incredulously. +"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Peter Gross, of Batavia."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck and Muller stared at each other blankly, +each vainly trying to recall ever having heard the +name before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross, he must be a newcomer," +Van Slyck remarked. "I have not heard +of him before, have you, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>"There is no one by that name in the colonial +service," Muller declared, shaking his head. "You +say he is of Batavia, Koyala?"</p> + +<p>"Of Batavia, <i>mynheer</i>, but by birth and upbringing, +and everything else, a Yankee."</p> + +<p>"A Yankee?" her hearers chorused incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a Yankee. Mate on a trading vessel, or +so he was a year ago. He has been in the Indies +the past seven years."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck broke into a roar of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Now, by the beard of Nassau, what joke is Chanticleer +playing us now?" he cried. "He must be +anxious to get that Yankee out of the way."</p> + +<p>Neither Koyala nor Muller joined in his mirth. +Muller frowned thoughtfully. There was the look +in his eyes of one who is striving to recollect some +almost forgotten name or incident.</p> + +<p>"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross," he repeated thoughtfully. +"Where have I heard that name before?"</p> + +<p>"Do you remember what happened to Gogolu +of Lombock the time he captured Lieutenant de +Koren and his commando?" Koyala asked. "How +an American sailor and ten of his crew surprised +Gogolu's band, killed a great many of them, and +took their prisoners away from them? That was +Pieter Gross."</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem.</i> I knew I had reason to +remember that name," Muller cried in alarm. "We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +have no Mynheer de Jonge to deal with this time, +<i>kapitein</i>. This Yankee is a fighter."</p> + +<p>"Good!" Van Slyck exclaimed with satisfaction. +"We will give him his bellyful. There will +be plenty for him to do in the bush, eh, <i>mynheer</i>? +And if he gets too troublesome there are always +ways of getting rid of him." He raised his eyebrows +significantly.</p> + +<p>"This Yankee is no fool," Muller rejoined anxiously. +"I heard about that Lombock affair—it +was a master coup. We have a bad man to deal +with, <i>kapitein</i>."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck smiled cynically.</p> + +<p>"Humph, <i>mynheer</i>, you make me tired. From +the way you talk one would think these Yankees +can fight as well as they can cheat the brown-skins. +We will fill him up with Hollands, we will swell his +foolish head with praise till it is ready to burst, +and then we will engineer an uprising in the hill +district. Koyala can manage that for us. When +Mynheer, the Yankee, hears of it he will be that +thirsty for glory there will be no holding him. We +will start him off with our blessings, and then we +will continue our business in peace. What do you +think of the plan, my dear Koyala?"</p> + +<p>"Evidently you don't know Mynheer Gross," +Koyala retorted coldly.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" Van Slyck asked, quick as a flash.</p> + +<p>"I have seen him," Koyala acknowledged. "Once. +It was at the mouth of the Abbas River." She +described the incident.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He is no fool," she concluded. "He is a strong +man, and an able man, one you will have to look +out for."</p> + +<p>"And a devilish handsome young man, too, I'll +wager," Van Slyck observed maliciously with a +sidelong glance at Muller. The <i>controlleur's</i> ruddy +face darkened with a quick spasm of jealousy, at +which the captain chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a remarkably handsome man," Koyala +replied coolly. "We need handsome men in Bulungan, +don't we, captain? Handsome white men?"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck looked at her quickly. He felt a certain +significance in her question that eluded him. +It was not the first time she had indulged in such +remarks, quite trivial on their face, but invested +with a mysterious something the way she said them. +He knew her tragic history and was sharp enough to +guess that her unholy alliance with Ah Sing grew out +of a savage desire to revenge herself on a government +which had permitted her to be brought up a +white woman and a victim of appetites and desires +she could never satisfy. What he did not know, did +not even dream, was the depth of her hate against +the whole white race and her fixed purpose to sweep +the last white man out of Bulungan.</p> + +<p>"We do have a dearth of society here in Bulungan," +he conceded. "Do you find it so, too?"</p> + +<p>The question was a direct stab, for not a white +woman in the residency would open her doors to +Koyala. The Dyak blood leaped to her face; for +a moment it seemed that she would spring at him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +then she controlled herself with a powerful effort +and replied in a voice studiedly reserved:</p> + +<p>"I do, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>, but one must expect to +have a limited circle when there are so few that can +be trusted."</p> + +<p>At this juncture Muller's jealous fury overcame +all bounds. Jealousy accomplished what all Van +Slyck's scorn and threats could not do, it made him +eager to put the newcomer out of the way.</p> + +<p>"What are we going to do?" he thundered. "Sit +here like turtles on a mud-bank while this Yankee +lords it over us and ruins our business? <i>Donder en +bliksem</i>, I won't, whatever the rest of you may do. +<i>Kapitein</i>, get your wits to work; what is the best +way to get rid of this Yankee?"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck looked at him in surprise. Then his +quick wit instantly guessed the reason for the outburst.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>mynheer</i>," he replied, shrugging his shoulders +indifferently, "it seems to me that this is a +matter you are more interested in than I. Mynheer +Gross does not come to displace me."</p> + +<p>"You are ready enough to scheme murders if +there is a <i>gulden</i> in it for you, but you have no counsel +for a friend, eh?" Muller snarled. "Let me +remind you, <i>kapitein</i>, that you are involved just as +heavily as I."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck laughed in cynical good humor.</p> + +<p>"Let it never be said that a Van Slyck is so base +as that, <i>mynheer</i>. Supposing we put our heads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +together. In the first place, let us give Koyala a +chance to tell what she knows. Where did you get +the news, Koyala?"</p> + +<p>"That makes no difference, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>," +Koyala rejoined coolly. "I have my own avenues +of information."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck frowned with annoyance.</p> + +<p>"When does he come here?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"We may expect him any time," Koyala stated. +"He is to come when the rainy season closes, and +that will be in a few days."</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem</i>, does Ah Sing know this?" +Muller asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's lips curled in cynical amusement at +the inanity of the question.</p> + +<p>"He knows," Koyala declared.</p> + +<p>"Of course he knows," Van Slyck added sarcastically. +"The question is, what is he going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," Koyala replied. "He can tell +you that himself when he comes here."</p> + +<p>"He's coming here?" Van Slyck asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"I am not in Ah Sing's councils," Koyala declared +coldly.</p> + +<p>"The deuce you're not," Van Slyck retorted irritably. +"You seem to know a lot of things we hadn't +heard of. What does Ah Sing expect us to do? +Pander to this Yankee deck-scrubber until he +comes?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We will do what we think best," Muller observed +grimly.</p> + +<p>Koyala looked at him steadily until his glance fell.</p> + +<p>"You will both leave him alone and attend to your +own affairs," she announced. "The new resident +will be taken care of by Ah Sing—and by me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Long Arm of Ah Sing</span></h3> + + +<p>Two weeks after receiving his appointment as +resident of Bulungan, Peter Gross stood on a +wharf along the Batavia water-front and +looked wistfully out to sea. It was early evening +and quite dark, for the moon had not risen and the +eastern sky from the zenith down was obscured by +fitful patches of cloud, gray-winged messengers of +rain. In the west, Venus glowed with a warm, +seductive light, like a lamp in a Spanish garden. A +brisk and vigorous breeze roughed the waters of +the bay that raced shoreward in long rollers to +escape its impetuous wooing.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross breathed the salt air deeply and +stared steadfastly into the west, for he was sick at +heart. Not until now did he realize what giving up +the sea meant to him. The sea!—it had been a +second mother to him, receiving him into its open +arms when he ran away from the drudgery of the +farm to satisfy the wanderlust that ached and ached +in his boyish heart. Ay, it had mothered him, +cradling him at night on its fond bosom while it +sang a wild and eerie refrain among sail and cordage, +buffeting him in its ill-humor, feeding him, and +even clothing him. His first yellow oilskin, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +remembered poignantly, had been salvaged from a +wreck.</p> + +<p>Now he was leaving that mother. He was leaving +the life he had lived for ten years. He was denying +the dreams and ambitions of his youth. He was +casting aside the dream of some day standing on the +deck of his own ship with a score of smart sailors +to jump at his command. A feeling akin to the +home-sickness he had suffered when, a lad of fifteen, +he lived through his first storm at sea, in the hold of +a cattle-ship, came over him now. Almost he regretted +his decision.</p> + +<p>Since bidding good-bye to Captain Threthaway +two weeks before, he had picked twenty-four of the +twenty-five men he intended to take with him for +the pacification of Bulungan. The twenty-fifth he +expected to sign that night at the home of his quondam +skipper, Captain Roderick Rouse, better known +as Roaring Rory. Rouse had been a trader in the +south seas for many years and was now skipper of a +smart little cottage in Ryswyk, the European residence +section of Batavia. Peter Gross's presence +at the water-front was explained by the fact that he +had an hour to spare and naturally drifted to Tanjong +Priok, the shipping center.</p> + +<p>The selection of the company had not been an +easy task. Peter Gross had not expected that it +would be. He found the type of men he wanted +even scarcer than he anticipated. For the past +two weeks beachcombers and loafers along the +wharves, and tourists, traders, and gentlemen ad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>venturers +at the hotels had looked curiously at the +big, well-dressed sailor who always seemed to have +plenty of time and money to spend, and was always +ready to gossip. Some of them tried to draw him +out. To these he talked vaguely about seeing a +little of Java before he went sailoring again. Opinion +became general that for a sailor Peter Gross was +remarkably close-mouthed.</p> + +<p>While he was to all appearances idly dawdling +about, Peter Gross was in reality getting information +concerning hardy young men of adventuresome +spirit who might be persuaded to undertake an expedition +that meant risk of life and who could be relied +upon. Each man was carefully sounded before he +was signed, and when signed, was told to keep his +mouth shut.</p> + +<p>But the major problem, to find a capable leader of +such a body of men, was still unsolved. Peter Gross +realized that his duties as resident precluded him +from taking personal charge. He also recognized +his limitations. He was a sailor; a soldier was +needed to whip the company in shape, a bush-fighter +who knew how to dispose those under him when +Dyak arrows and Chinese bullets began to fly overhead +in the jungle.</p> + +<p>Two weeks of diligent search had failed to unearth +any one with the necessary qualifications. Peter +Gross was beginning to despair when he thought of +his former skipper, Captain Rouse. Looking him +up, he explained his predicament.</p> + +<p>"By the great Polar B'ar," Roaring Rory bel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>lowed +when Peter Gross had finished his recital. +"How the dickens do you expect to clean out that +hell-hole with twenty-five men? Man, there's a +hundred thousand Dyaks alone, let alone those +rat-faced Chinks that come snoopin' down like +buzzards smellin' carrion, and the cut-throat Bugis, +and the bad men the English chased out of Sarawak, +and the Sulu pirates, and Lord knows what all. +It's suicide."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to Bulungan to make war," Peter +Gross explained mildly.</p> + +<p>Roaring Rory spat a huge cud of tobacco into a +cuspidor six feet away, the better to express his +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Then what in blazes are you goin' there for?" +he roared.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross permitted himself one of his rare +smiles. There was a positive twinkle in his eyes as +he replied:</p> + +<p>"To convince them I am their best friend."</p> + +<p>Roaring Rory's eyes opened wide.</p> + +<p>"Convince 'em—what?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"That I am their friend."</p> + +<p>The old sea captain stared at his ex-mate.</p> + +<p>"You're jokin'," he declared.</p> + +<p>"I was never more serious in my life," Peter Gross +assured gravely.</p> + +<p>"Then you're a damn' fool," Roaring Rory asserted. +"Yes, sir, a damn' fool. I didn't think it +of ye, Peter."</p> + +<p>"It will take time, but I believe I see my way,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +Peter Gross replied quietly. He explained his plan +briefly, and as he described how he expected to win +the confidence and support of the hillmen, Roaring +Rory became calmer.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe you can do it, Peter, mebbe you can do +it," he conceded dubiously. "But that devil of an +Ah Sing has a long arm, and by the bye, I'd keep +indoors after sundown if I were you."</p> + +<p>"But this isn't getting me the man I need," Peter +Gross pointed out. "Can you recommend any one, +captain?"</p> + +<p>Roaring Rory squared back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"I hain't got the latitude and longitude of this-here +proposition of yours figured just yet," he +replied, producing a plug of tobacco and biting off a +generous portion before passing it hospitably to his +visitor. "Just what kind of a man do you want?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross drew his chair a few inches nearer the +captain's.</p> + +<p>"What I want," he said, "is a man that I can +trust—no matter what happens. He doesn't need +to know seamanship, but he's got to be absolutely +square, a man the sight of gold or women won't +turn. He has to be a soldier, an ex-army officer, +and a bush-fighter, a man who has seen service in +the jungle. A man from the Philippines would +just fill the bill. He has to be the sort of a man his +men will swear by. And he has to have a clean +record."</p> + +<p>Roaring Rory grunted. "Ye don't want nothin', +do ye? I'd recommend the Angel Gabriel."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is such a man," Peter Gross insisted. +"There always is. You've got to help me find him, +captain."</p> + +<p>Rouse scratched his head profoundly and squinted +hard. By and bye a big grin overspread his +features.</p> + +<p>"I've got a nevvy," he announced, "who'd be +crazy to be with ye. He's only seventeen, but big +for his age. He's out on my plantation now. Hold +on," he roared as Peter Gross attempted to interrupt. +"I'm comin' to number twenty-five. This +nevvy has a particular friend that's with him now +out to the plantation. 'Cordin' to his log, this +chap's the very man ye're lookin' for. Was a captain +o' volunteer infantry and saw service in the +Philippines. When his time run out he went to +Shanghai for a rubber-goods house, and learned all +there is to know about Chinks. He's the best rifle +shot in Java. An' he can handle men. He ain't +much on the brag order, but he sure is all there."</p> + +<p>"That is the sort of a man I have been looking +for," Peter Gross observed with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"He's worth lookin' up at any rate," Captain +Rouse declared. "If you care to see him and my +nevvy, you're in luck. They're comin' back to-night. +They had a little business here, so they run +down together and will bunk with me. I expect +them here at nine o'clock, and if ye're on deck I'll +interduce you. What d'ye say?"</p> + +<p>"I knew you wouldn't fail me, captain," Peter +Gross replied warmly. "I'll be here."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>The shrill whistle of a coaster interrupted Peter +Gross's melancholy reflections. He recollected with +a start that it must be near the time he had promised +to be at Captain Rouse's cottage. Leaving the +wharves, he ambled along the main traveled highway +toward the business district until overtaken by a +belated victoria whose driver he hailed.</p> + +<p>The cool of evening was descending from the hills +as the vehicle turned into the street on which Captain +Rouse lived. It was a wide, tree-lined lane, with +oil lamps every six or seven hundred feet whose +yellow rays struggled ineffectually to banish the +somber gloom shed by the huge masses of foliage +that shut out the heavens. Feeling cramped from +his long ride and a trifle chill, Peter Gross suddenly +decided to walk the remainder of the distance, halted +his driver, paid the fare, and dismissed him. Whistling +cheerily, a rollicking chanty of the sea to which +his feet kept time, he walked briskly along.</p> + +<p>Cutting a bar of song in the middle, he stopped +suddenly to listen. Somewhere in the darkness behind +him someone had stumbled into an acacia +hedge and had uttered a stifled exclamation of pain. +There was no other sound, except the soughing of +the breeze through the tree-tops.</p> + +<p>"A drunken coolie," he observed to himself. He +stepped briskly along and resumed his whistling. +The song came to an abrupt close as his keen ears +caught a faint shuffling not far behind, a shuffling +like the scraping of a soft-soled shoe against the +plank walk. He turned swiftly, ears pricked, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +looked steadily in the direction that the sound came +from, but the somber shadows defied his searching +glance.</p> + +<p>"Only coolies," he murmured, but an uneasy +feeling came upon him and he quickened his pace. +His right hand involuntarily slipped to his coat-pocket +for the pistol he customarily carried. It was +not there. A moment's thought and he recollected +he had left it in his room.</p> + +<p>As he reached the next street-lamp he hesitated. +Ahead of him was a long area of unlighted thoroughfare. +Evidently the lamp-lighter had neglected his +duties. Or, Peter Gross reflected, some malicious +hand might have extinguished the lights. It was +on this very portion of the lane that Captain Rouse's +cottage stood, only a few hundred yards farther.</p> + +<p>He listened sharply a moment. Back in the +shadows off from the lane a piano tinkled, the langorous +Dream Waltz from the Tales of Hoffman. A +lighted victoria clattered toward him, then turned +into a brick-paved driveway. Else not a sound. +The very silence was ominous.</p> + +<p>Walking slowly, to accustom his eyes to the gloom, +Peter Gross left the friendly circle of light. As the +shadows began to envelop him he heard the sound of +running feet on turf. Some one inside the hedge +was trying to overhaul him. He broke into a dog-trot.</p> + +<p>A low whistle cut the silence. Leaping forward, +he broke into a sprint. Rouse's cottage was only a +hundred yards ahead—a dash and he would be there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>A whistle from in front. A like sound from the +other side of the lane. The stealthy tap-tapping of +feet, sandaled feet, from every direction.</p> + +<p>For a moment Peter Gross experienced the sensation +of a hunted creature driven to bay. It was +only for a moment, however, and then he acquainted +himself with his surroundings in a quick, comprehensive +glance. On one side of him was the hedge, +on the other a line of tall kenari-trees.</p> + +<p>Vaulting the hedge, he ran silently and swiftly in +its shadow, hugging the ground like a fox in the +brush. Suddenly and without warning he crashed +full-tilt into a man coming from the opposite direction, +caught him low, just beneath the ribs. The +man crashed back into the hedge with an explosive +gasp.</p> + +<p>Ahead were white pickets, the friendly white +pickets that enclosed Captain Rouse's grounds. +He dashed toward them, but he was too late. Out +of a mass of shrubbery a short, squat figure leaped +at him. There was the flash of a knife. Peter +Gross had no chance to grapple with his assailant. +He dropped like a log, an old sailor's trick, and the +short, squat figure fell over him. He had an instant +glimpse of a yellow face, fiendish in its malignancy, +of a flying queue, of fingers that groped futilely, +then he rose.</p> + +<p>At the same instant a cat-like something sprang +on him from behind, twisted its legs around his +body, and fastened its talons into his throat. The +impact staggered him, but as he found his footing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +he tore the claw-like fingers loose and shook the +creature off. Simultanelusly two shadows in front +of him materialized into Chinamen with gleaming +knives. As they leaped at him a red-hot iron seared +his right forearm and a bolt of lightning numbed his +left shoulder.</p> + +<p>A sound like a hoarse, dry cackle came from Peter +Gross's throat. His long arms shot out and each +of his huge hands caught one of his assailants by +the throat. Bringing their heads together with a +sound like breaking egg-shells, he tossed them aside.</p> + +<p>Before he could turn to flee a dozen shadowy +forms semi-circled about him. The starlight dimly +revealed gaunt, yellow faces and glaring eyes, the +eyes of a wolf-pack. The circle began to narrow. +Knives glittered. But none of the crouching forms +dared venture within reach of the gorilla arms.</p> + +<p>Then the lion arose in Peter Gross. Beside him +was an ornamental iron flower-pot. Stooping quickly, +he seized it and lifted it high above his head. They +shrank from him, those crouching forms, with shrill +pipings of alarm, but it was too late. He hurled it +at the foremost. It caught two of them and bowled +them over like ninepins. Then he leaped at the +others. His mighty right caught one under the +chin and laid him flat. His left dove into the pit of +another's stomach. The unfortunate Chinaman collapsed +like a sack of grain.</p> + +<p>They ringed him round. A sharp, burning sensation +swept across his back—it was the slash of a +knife. A blade sank into the fleshy part of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +throat, and he tore it impatiently away. He struck +out savagely into the densely packed mass of humanity +and a primitive cave-man surge of joy +thrilled him at the impact of his fists against human +flesh and bone.</p> + +<p>But the fight was too unequal. Blood started +from a dozen cuts; it seemed to him he was afire +within and without. His blows began to lack +power and a film came over his eyes, but he struck +out the more savagely, furious at his own weakness. +The darkness thickened. The figures before him, +beside him, behind him, became more confused. +Two and three heads bobbed where he thought +there was only one. His blows went wild. The +jackals were pulling the lion down.</p> + +<p>As he pulled himself together for a last desperate +effort to plough through to the security of Rouse's +home, the sharp crack of a revolver sounded in +his ear. At the same instant the lawn leaped +into a blinding light, a light in which the gory +figures of his assailants stood out in dazed and uncertain +relief. The acrid fumes of gunpowder filled +his nostrils.</p> + +<p>Darting toward the hedges like rats scurrying to +their holes, the Chinamen sought cover. Peter +Gross hazily saw two men, white men, each of them +carrying a flash-light and a pistol, vault the pickets. +A third followed, swinging a lantern and bellowing +for the "<i>wacht</i>" (police). It was Roaring Rory.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt?" the foremost asked as he approached.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not bad, I guess," Peter Gross replied thickly. +He lifted his hand to his forehead in a dazed, uncertain +way and looked stupidly at the blood that +gushed over it. A cleft seemed to open at his feet. +He felt himself sinking—down, down, down to the +very foundations of the world. Dimly he heard +the cry:</p> + +<p>"Quick, Paddy, lend a hand."</p> + +<p>Then came oblivion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Captain Carver Signs</span></h3> + + +<p>When Peter Gross recovered consciousness +fifteen minutes later he found himself in +familiar quarters. He was lying on a cot +in Captain Rouse's den, commonly designated by +that gentleman as "the cabin." Captain Rouse's +face, solemn as an owl's, was leaning over him. As +he blinked the captain's lips expanded into a grin.</p> + +<p>"Wot did I tell ye, 'e's all right!" the captain +roared delightedly. "Demmit, ye can't kill a +Sunda schooner bucko mate with a little bloodlettin'. +Ah Sing pretty near got ye, eh, Peter?"</p> + +<p>The last was to Peter Gross, who was sitting up +and taking inventory of his various bandages, also +of his hosts. There were two strangers in the room. +One was a short, stocky young man with a pugnacious +Irish nose, freckly face, and hair red as a +burnished copper boiler. His eyes were remarkably +like the jovial navigator's, Peter Gross observed. +The other was a dark, well-dressed man of about +forty, with a military bearing and reserved air. He +bore the stamp of gentility.</p> + +<p>"Captain Carver," Roaring Rory announced. +"My old mate, Peter Gross, the best man as ever +served under me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>The elder man stepped forward and clasped Peter +Gross's hand. The latter tried to rise, but Carver +restrained him.</p> + +<p>"You had better rest a few moments, Mr. Gross," +he said. There was a quiet air of authority in his +voice that instantly attracted the resident, who +gave him a keen glance.</p> + +<p>"My nevvy, Paddy, Peter, the doggonest young +scamp an old sea-horse ever tried to raise," Rouse +bellowed. "I wish I could have him for'ard with a +crew like we used to have on the old <i>Gloucester +Maid</i>." He guffawed boisterously while the younger +of the two strangers, his face aglow with a magnetic +smile, sprang forward and caught Peter Gross's +hand in a quick, dynamic grip.</p> + +<p>"Them's the lads ye've got to thank for bein' +here," Roaring Rory announced, with evident pride. +"If they hadn't heard the fracas and butted in, the +Chinks would have got ye sure."</p> + +<p>"I rather fancied it was you whom I have to +thank for being here," Peter Gross acknowledged +warmly. "You were certainly just in time."</p> + +<p>"Captain Rouse is too modest," Captain Carver +said. "It was he who heard the disturbance and +jumped to the conclusion you might be—in difficulty."</p> + +<p>The old navigator shook his head sadly. "I +warned ye, Peter," he said; "I warned ye against +that old devil, Ah Sing. Didn't I tell you to be +careful at night? Ye ain't fit to be trusted alone, +Peter."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think you did," Peter Gross acknowledged +with a twinkle. "But didn't you fix our appointment +for to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Ye should have carried a gun," Roaring Rory +reproved. "Leastwise a belayin'-pin. Ye like to +use your fists too well, Peter. Fists are no good +against knives. I'm a peace-lovin' man, Peter, +'twould be better for ye if ye patterned after me."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross smiled, for Roaring Rory's record for +getting into scrapes was known the length and +breadth of the South Pacific. Looking up, he surprised +a merry gleam in Captain Carver's eyes and +Paddy striving hard to remain sober.</p> + +<p>"I'll remember your advice, captain," Peter Gross +assured.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" Roaring Rory grunted. "Well, Peter, +is your head clear enough to talk business?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," Peter Gross replied slowly. "Have +you explained the matter I came here to discuss?"</p> + +<p>"Summat, summat," Rouse grunted. "I leave +the talking to you, Peter."</p> + +<p>"Captain Rouse told me you wanted some one +to take charge of a company of men for a dangerous +enterprise somewhere in the South Pacific," Carver +replied. "He said it meant risking life. That +might mean anything to piracy. I understand, +however, that your enterprise has official sanction."</p> + +<p>"My appointment is from the governor-general +of the Netherlands East Indies," Peter Gross stated.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes."</p> + +<p>"I need a man to drill and lead twenty-five men,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +all of whom have had some military training. I +want a man who knows the Malays and their ways +and knows the bush."</p> + +<p>"I was in the Philippines for two years as a captain +of volunteer infantry," Carver said. "I was in +Shanghai for four years and had considerable dealings +at that time with the Chinese. I know a little of +their language."</p> + +<p>"Have you any one dependent on you?"</p> + +<p>"I am a bachelor," Captain Carver replied.</p> + +<p>"Does twenty-five hundred a year appeal to you?"</p> + +<p>"That depends entirely on what services I should +be expected to render."</p> + +<p>Confident that he had landed his man, and convinced +from Captain Rouse's recommendation and +his own observations that Carver was the very person +he had been seeking, Peter Gross threw reserve +aside and frankly stated the object of his expedition +and the difficulties before him.</p> + +<p>"You see," he concluded, "the game is dangerous, +but the stakes are big. I have no doubt but what +Governor Van Schouten will deal handsomely with +every one who helps restore order in the residency."</p> + +<p>Captain Carver was frowning.</p> + +<p>"I don't like the idea of playing one native element +against another," he declared. "It always +breeds trouble. The only people who have ever +been successful in pulling it off is the British in +India, and they had to pay for it in blood during +the Mutiny. The one way to pound the fear of +God into the hearts of these benighted browns and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +blacks is to show them you're master. Once they +get the idea the white man can't keep his grip without +them, look out for treachery."</p> + +<p>"I've thought of that," Peter Gross replied sadly. +"But to do as you suggest will take at least two regiments +and will cost the lives of several thousand +Dyaks. You will have to lay the country bare, +and you will sow a seed of hate that is bound to bear +fruit. But if I can persuade them to trust me, +Bulungan will be pacified. Brooke did it in Sarawak, +and I believe I can do it here."</p> + +<p>Carver stroked his chin in silence.</p> + +<p>"You know the country," he said. "If you have +faith and feel you want me, I'll go with you."</p> + +<p>"I'll have a lawyer make the contracts at once," +Peter Gross replied. "We can sign them to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Can't you take me with you, too, Mr. Gross?" +Paddy Rouse asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at the lad. The boy's face +was eloquent with entreaty.</p> + +<p>"How old are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Seventeen," came the halting acknowledgment. +"But I've done a man's work for a year. Haven't I, +avunculus?"</p> + +<p>Captain Rouse nodded a reluctant assent. "I +hate to miss ye, my boy," he said, "but maybe +a year out there would get the deviltry out of ye +and make a man of ye. If Peter wants ye, he may +have ye."</p> + +<p>A flash of inspiration came to Peter Gross as he +glanced at the boy's tousled shock of fiery-red hair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll take you on a private's pay," he said. "A +thousand a year. Is that satisfactory?"</p> + +<p>"I'm signed," Paddy whooped. "Hooray!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When Peter Gross and his company left Tanjong +Priok a fortnight later Captain Rouse bade them a +wistful good-bye at the wharf.</p> + +<p>"Take care of the lad; he's all I got," he said +huskily to the resident. "If it wasn't for the +damned plantation I'd go with ye, too."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Mynheer Muller's Dream</span></h3> + + +<p>The Dutch gun-boat <i>Prins Lodewyk</i>, a terror +to evil-doers in the Java and Celebes seas, +steamed smartly up Bulungan Bay and +swung into anchorage a quarter of a mile below the +assemblage of junks and Malay proas clustered at +the mouth of Bulungan River. She carried a new +flag below her ensign, the resident's flag. As she +swung around, her guns barked a double salute, first +to the flag and then to the resident. Peter Gross and +his company were come to Bulungan.</p> + +<p>The pert brass cannon of the stockade answered +gun for gun. It was the yapping of terrier against +mastiff, for the artillery of the fortress was of small +caliber and an ancient pattern. Its chief service +was to intimidate the natives of the town who had +once been bombarded during an unfortunate rebellion +and had never quite forgotten the sensation of +being under shell-fire.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross leaned over the rail of the vessel and +looked fixedly shoreward. His strong, firm chin +was grimly set. There were lines in his face that +had not been there a few weeks before when he was +tendered and accepted his appointment as resident.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +Responsibility was sitting heavily upon his shoulders, +for he now realized the magnitude of the task he had +so lightly assumed.</p> + +<p>Captain Carver joined him. "All's well, so far, +Mr. Gross," he observed.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross let the remark stand without comment +for a moment. "Ay, all's well so far," he +assented heavily.</p> + +<p>There was another pause.</p> + +<p>"Are we going ashore this afternoon?" Carver +inquired.</p> + +<p>"That is my intention."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll want the boys to get their traps on +deck. At what hour will you want them?"</p> + +<p>"I think I shall go alone," Peter Gross replied +quietly.</p> + +<p>Carver looked up quickly. "Not alone, Mr. +Gross," he expostulated.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked sternly shoreward at the open +water-front of Bulungan town, where dugouts, +sampans, and crude bark canoes were frantically +shooting about to every point of the compass in +helter-skelter confusion.</p> + +<p>"I think it would be best," he said.</p> + +<p>Carver shook his head. "I don't think I'd do it, +Mr. Gross," he advised gravely. "I don't think +you ought to take the chance."</p> + +<p>"To convince an enemy you are not afraid is +often half the fight," Peter Gross observed.</p> + +<p>"A good rule, but it doesn't apply to a pack of +assassins," Carver replied. "And that's what we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +seem to be up against. You can't take too big precautions +against whelps that stab in the dark."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross attempted no contradiction. The +ever increasing concourse of scantily clad natives +along the shore held his attention. Carver scanned +his face anxiously.</p> + +<p>"They pretty nearly got you at Batavia, Mr. +Gross," he reminded, anxiety overcoming his natural +disinclination to give a superior unsolicited advice.</p> + +<p>"You may be right," Peter Gross conceded mildly.</p> + +<p>Carver pushed his advantage. "If Ah Sing's +tong men will take a chance at murdering you in +Batavia under the nose of the governor, they won't +balk at putting you out of the way in Bulungan, a +thousand miles from nowhere. There's a hundred +ways they can get rid of a man and make it look like +an accident."</p> + +<p>"We must expect to take some risks."</p> + +<p>Perceiving the uselessness of argument, Carver +made a final plea. "At least let me go with you," +he begged.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross sighed and straightened to his full +six feet two. "Thank you, captain," he said, "but +I must go alone. I want to teach Bulungan one +thing to-day—that Peter Gross is not afraid."</p> + +<p>While Captain Carver was vainly trying to dissuade +Peter Gross from going ashore, Kapitein Van +Slyck hastened from his quarters at the fort to the +<i>controlleur's</i> house. Muller was an uncertain quantity +in a crisis, the captain was aware; it was vital +that they act in perfect accord. He found his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +associate pacing agitatedly in the shade of a screen +of nipa palms between whose broad leaves he could +watch the trim white hull and spotless decks of +the gun-boat.</p> + +<p>Muller was smoking furiously. At the crunch of +Van Slyck's foot on the coraled walk he turned +quickly, with a nervous start, and his face blanched.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>kapitein</i>," he exclaimed with relief, "is it +you?"</p> + +<p>"Who else would it be?" Van Slyck growled, perceiving +at once that Muller had worked himself +into a frenzy of apprehension.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I thought, perhaps, Cho Seng—"</p> + +<p>"You look as though you'd seen a ghost. What's +there about Cho Seng to be afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"—that Cho Seng had come to tell me Mynheer +Gross was here," Muller faltered.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck looked at him keenly, through narrowed +lids.</p> + +<p>"Hum!" he grunted with emphasis. "So it is +Mynheer Gross already with you, eh, Muller?"</p> + +<p>There was a significant emphasis on the "<i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>Muller flushed. "Don't get the notion I'm going +to sweet-mouth to him simply because he is resident, +<i>kapitein</i>," he retorted, recovering his dignity. "You +know me well enough—my foot is in this as deeply +as yours."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and deeper," Van Slyck replied significantly.</p> + +<p>The remark escaped Muller. He was thrusting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +aside the screen of nipa leaves to peer toward the +vessel.</p> + +<p>"No," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief, "he has +not left the ship yet. There are two civilians at the +forward rail—come, <i>kapitein</i>, do you think one of +them is he?"</p> + +<p>He opened the screen wider for Van Slyck. The +captain stepped forward with an expression of bored +indifference and peered through the aperture.</p> + +<p>"H-m!" he muttered. "I wouldn't be surprised +if the big fellow is Gross. They say he has +the inches."</p> + +<p>"I hope to heaven he stays aboard to-day," +Muller prayed fervently.</p> + +<p>"He can come ashore whenever he wants to, for +all I care," Van Slyck remarked.</p> + +<p>Muller straightened and let the leaves fall back.</p> + +<p>"<i>Lieve hemel, neen, kapitein</i>," he expostulated. +"What would I do if he should question me. My +reports are undone, there are a dozen cases to be +tried, I have neglected to settle matters with some +of the chiefs, and my accounts are in a muddle. +I don't see how I am ever going to straighten things +out—then there are those other things—what will he +say?"</p> + +<p>He ran his hands through his hair in nervous +anxiety. Van Slyck contemplated his agitation +with a darkening frown. "Is the fool going to +pieces?" was the captain's harrowing thought. He +clapped a hand on Muller's shoulder with an assumption +of bluff heartiness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Sufficient unto the day—' You know the +proverb, <i>mynheer</i>," he said cheerfully. "There's +nothing to worry about—we won't give him a +chance at you for two weeks. Kapitein Enckel of +the <i>Prins</i> will probably bring him ashore to-day. +We'll receive him here; I'll bring my lieutenants +over, and Cho Seng can make us a big dinner.</p> + +<p>"To-night there will be schnapps and reminiscences, +to-morrow morning a visit of inspection to +the fort, to-morrow afternoon a <i>bitchara</i> with the +Rajah Wobanguli, and the day after a visit to +Bulungan town. At night visits to Wang Fu's +house and Marinus Blauwpot's, with cards and +Hollands. I'll take care of him for you, and you +can get your books in shape. Go to Barang, if you +want to, the day we visit Rotterdam—leave word +with Cho Seng you were called away to settle an +important case. Leave everything to me, and when +you get back we'll have <i>mynheer</i> so drunk he +won't know a tax statement from an Edammer +cheese."</p> + +<p>Muller's face failed to brighten at the hopeful +program mapped out by his associate. If anything, +his agitation increased.</p> + +<p>"But he might ask questions to-day, <i>kapitein</i>—questions +I cannot answer."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's lips curled. His thought was: "Good +God, what am I going to do with this lump of jelly-fish?" +But he replied encouragingly:</p> + +<p>"No danger of that at all, <i>mynheer</i>. There are +certain formalities that must be gone through first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +before a new resident takes hold. It would not be +good form to kick his predecessor out of office without +giving the latter a chance to close his books—even +a pig of a Yankee knows that. Accept his +credentials if he offers them, but tell him business +must wait till the morning. Above all, keep your +head, say nothing, and be as damnably civil as +though he were old Van Schouten himself. If we +can swell his head none of us will have to worry."</p> + +<p>"But my accounts, <i>kapitein</i>," Muller faltered.</p> + +<p>"To the devil with your accounts," Van Slyck +exclaimed, losing patience. "Go to Barang, fix +them up as best you can."</p> + +<p>"I can never get them to balance," Muller cried. +"Our dealings—the rattan we shipped—you know." +He looked fearfully around.</p> + +<p>"There never was a <i>controlleur</i> yet that didn't +line his own pockets," Van Slyck sneered. "But +his books never showed it. You are a book-keeper, +<i>mynheer</i>, and you know how to juggle figures. Forget +these transactions; if you can't, charge the +moneys you got to some account. There are no +vouchers or receipts in Bulungan. A handy man +with figures, like yourself, ought to be able to make +a set of accounts that that ferret Sachsen himself +could not find a flaw in."</p> + +<p>"But that is not the worst," Muller cried despairingly. +"There are the taxes, the taxes I +should have sent to Batavia, the rice that we sold +instead to Ah Sing."</p> + +<p>"Good God! Have you grown a conscience?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +Van Slyck snarled. "If you have, drown yourself +in the bay. Lie, you fool, lie! Tell him the weevils +ruined the crop, tell him the floods drowned it, tell +him a tornado swept the fields bare, lay it to the hill +Dyaks—anything, anything! But keep your nerve, +or you'll hang sure."</p> + +<p>Muller retreated before the captain's vehemence.</p> + +<p>"But the <i>bruinevels</i>, <i>kapitein</i>?" he faltered. +"They may tell him something different."</p> + +<p>"Wobanguli won't; he's too wise to say anything," +Van Slyck asserted firmly. "None of the +others will dare to, either—all we've got to do is to +whisper Ah Sing's name to them. But there's little +danger of any of them except the Rajah seeing him +until after the <i>Prins</i> is gone. Once she's out of the +harbor I don't care what they say—no word of it +will ever get back to Batavia."</p> + +<p>His devilishly handsome smile gleamed sardonically, +and he twisted his nicely waxed mustache. +Muller's hands shook.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kapitein</i>," he replied in an odd, strained voice, +"I am afraid of this Peter Gross. I had a dream +last night, a horrible dream—I am sure it was him I +saw. I was in old de Jonge's room in the residency +building—you know the room—and the stranger +of my dream sat in old de Jonge's chair.</p> + +<p>"He asked me questions, questions of how I came +here, and what I have done here, and I talked and +talked till my mouth was dry as the marsh grass +before the rains begin to fall. All the while he listened, +and his eyes seemed to bore through me, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +though they said: 'Judas, I know what is going on +in your heart.'</p> + +<p>"At last, when I could say no more, he asked me: +'<i>Mynheer</i>, how did Mynheer de Jonge die?' Then +I fell on the ground before him and told him all—all. +At the last, soldiers came to take me away to hang +me, but under the very shadow of the gallows a +bird swooped down out of the air and carried me +away, away into the jungle. Then I awoke."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck broke into scornful laughter.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mynheer</i>, you had enough to worry about before +you started dreaming," he said bluntly. "If you're +going to fill your head with such foolishness I'll leave +you to your own devices."</p> + +<p>"But, <i>kapitein</i>, it might be a warning," Muller +cried desperately.</p> + +<p>"Heaven doesn't send ravens to cheat such rogues +as you and I from the gallows, <i>mynheer</i>," Van Slyck +mocked. "We might as well get ready to meet our +new resident. I see a boat putting off from the +ship."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Reception</span></h3> + + +<p>When Peter Gross stepped ashore at the +foot of the slope on which the fort and +government buildings stood, three thousand +pairs of eyes, whose owners were securely hidden +in the copses and undergrowth for a quarter of +a mile in both directions along the shore-line, watched +his every movement. With the lightning celerity +with which big news travels word had been spread +through Bulungan town that the new resident was +coming ashore, and every inhabitant possessed of +sound legs to bear him had run, crawled, or scrambled +to a favorable patch of undergrowth where he +could get a first glimpse of the <i>orang blanda</i> chief +without being observed.</p> + +<p>Perfectly aware of this scrutiny, but calmly +oblivious to it, Peter Gross stepped out of the boat +and directed the sailors who rowed it to return to +their ship. As their oars bit the water he faced the +path that wound up the hillside and walked along it +at a dignified and easy pace. His sharp ears caught +the incessant rustle of leaves, a rustle not made by +the breeze, and the soft grinding of bits of coral +under the pressure of naked feet.</p> + +<p>Once he surprised a dusky face in the bush, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +his glance roved to the next object in his line of +vision in placid unconcern. As he mounted the +rise he made for the <i>controlleur's</i> home, strolling +along as calmly as though he were on a Batavia lane.</p> + +<p>"<i>Duivel noch toe!</i>" Muller exclaimed as the boat +returned to the ship. "He is coming here alone." +His voice had an incredulous ring as though he half +doubted the evidence of his own senses.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's eyes danced with satisfaction, and +his saturnine smile was almost Mephistophelian.</p> + +<p>"By Nassau, I was right, after all, <i>mynheer</i>," he +exclaimed. "He's an ass of a Yankee that Van +Schouten is having some sport with in sending him +here."</p> + +<p>"There may be something behind this, <i>kapitein</i>," +Muller cautioned apprehensively, but Van Slyck +cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Behind this, <i>mynheer</i>? The fool does not even +know how to maintain the dignity due his office. +Would he land this way, like a pedler with his pack, +if he did? Oh, we are going to have some rare +sport—"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's merriment broke loose in a guffaw.</p> + +<p>"You-you will not do anything violent, <i>kapitein</i>?" +Muller asked apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Violent?" Van Slyck exclaimed. "I wouldn't +hurt him for a thousand guilders, <i>mynheer</i>. He's +going to be more fun than even you."</p> + +<p>The frank sneer that accompanied the remark +made the captain's meaning sufficiently clear to +penetrate even so sluggish a mind as the <i>controlleur's</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +He reddened, and an angry retort struggled to his +lips, but he checked it before it framed itself into +coherent language. He was too dependent on +Van Slyck, he realized, to risk offending the latter +now, but for the first time in their acquaintanceship +his negative dislike of his more brilliant associate +deepened to a positive aversion.</p> + +<p>"What are we going to do, <i>kapitein</i>?" he asked +quietly.</p> + +<p>"Welcome him, <i>mynheer</i>!" Again the sardonic +smile. "Treat him to some of your fine cigars and +a bottle of your best Hollands. Draw him out, +make him empty his belly to us. When we have +sucked him dry and drenched him with liquor we +will pack him back to the <i>Prins</i> to tell Kapitein +Enckel what fine fellows we are. To-morrow we'll +receive him with all ceremony—I'll instruct him this +afternoon how a resident is installed in his new post +and how he must conduct himself.</p> + +<p>"Enckel will leave here without a suspicion, +Mynheer Gross will be ready to trust even his purse +to us if we say the word, and we will have everything +our own way as before. But s-s-st! Here he +comes!" He lifted a restraining hand. "Lord, +what a shoulder of beef! Silence, now, and best +your manners, <i>mynheer</i>. Leave the talking to me."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross walked along the kenari-tree shaded +lane between the evergreen hedges clipped with +characteristic Dutch primness to a perfect plane. +Behind him formed a growing column of natives +whose curiosity had gotten the better of their diffidence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>The resident's keen eyes instantly ferreted out +Van Slyck and Muller in the shadows of the veranda, +but he gave no sign of recognition. Mounting the +steps of the porch, he stood for a moment in dignified +expectancy, his calm, gray eyes taking the +measure of each of its occupants.</p> + +<p>An apprehensive shiver ran down Muller's spine +as he met Peter Gross's glance—those gray eyes +were so like the silent, inscrutable eyes of the stranger +in de Jonge's chair whom he saw in his dream. It +was Van Slyck who spoke first.</p> + +<p>"You were looking for some one, <i>mynheer</i>?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"For Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i> and acting +resident. I think I have found him."</p> + +<p>The mildness with which these words were spoken +restored the captain's aplomb, momentarily shaken +by Peter Gross's calm, disconcerting stare.</p> + +<p>"You have a message for us?"</p> + +<p>"I have," Peter Gross replied.</p> + +<p>"Ah, from Kapitein Enckel, I suppose," Van +Slyck remarked urbanely. "Your name is—" He +paused significantly.</p> + +<p>"It is from his excellency, the Jonkheer Van +Schouten," Peter Gross corrected quietly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's tolerance of this interrogation convinced +Van Slyck that he had to do with an inferior +intelligence suddenly elevated to an important position +and very much at sea in it.</p> + +<p>"And your message, I understand, is for Mynheer +Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>?" the captain inquired +loftily with a pert uptilt of his chin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"For Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>," Peter +Gross acknowledged gravely.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes. This is Mynheer Muller." He indicated +the <i>controlleur</i> with a flourish. "But you +have not yet told us your name."</p> + +<p>"I am Peter Gross."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, Pieter Gross. Pieter Gross." The +captain repeated the name with evident relish. +"Pieter Gross. Mynheer Pieter Gross."</p> + +<p>There was a subtle emphasis on the <i>mynheer</i>—a +half-doubtful use of the word, as though he questioned +Peter Gross's right to a gentleman's designation. +It was designed to test the sailor.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle. +Turning to the <i>controlleur</i>, he asked in a voice of +unruffled calm: "May I speak to you privately, +<i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>Muller glanced apprehensively at Van Slyck. +The fears inspired by his dreams made him more +susceptible to ulterior impressions than the captain, +whose naturally more acute sensibilities were blunted +by the preconceived conviction that he had an ignorant +Yankee to deal with. Van Slyck smiled +cynically and observed:</p> + +<p>"Am I in the way, Mynheer Gross?" Again the +ironic accent to the <i>mynheer</i>. He rose to go, but +Muller stayed him with the cry:</p> + +<p>"<i>Neen, neen, kapitein.</i> Whatever comes from the +governor concerns you, too. Stay with us, and we +will see what his excellency has to say."</p> + +<p>None knew the importance of first impressions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +better than the captain. If the new resident could +be thwarted in his purpose of seeing Muller alone +that achievement would exercise its influence on +all their future relations, Van Slyck perceived.</p> + +<p>Assuming an expression of indifference, he sank +indolently into an easy chair. When he looked up +he found the gray eyes of Peter Gross fixed full +upon him.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I should introduce myself further, +captain," Peter Gross said. "I am Mynheer Gross, +of Batavia, your new resident by virtue of his excellency +the Jonkheer Van Schouten's appointment."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's faint, cynical smile deepened a trifle.</p> + +<p>"Ah, <i>mynheer</i> has been appointed resident," he +remarked non-committally.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's face hardened sternly.</p> + +<p>"It is not the custom in Batavia, captain, for +officers of the garrison to be seated while their +superiors stand."</p> + +<p>For a moment the astonished captain lost his +usual assurance. In that moment he unwittingly +scrambled to his feet in response to the commanding +look of the gray eyes that stared at him so steadily. +The instant his brain cleared he regretted the action, +but another lightning thought saved him from the +folly of defying the resident by reseating himself +in the chair he had vacated. Furious at Peter +Gross, furious at himself, he struggled futilely for +an effective reply and failed to find it. In the end +he took refuge in a sullen silence.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross turned again to Muller.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here are my credentials, <i>mynheer</i>, and a letter +from his excellency, the governor-general," he announced +simply.</p> + +<p>With the words he placed in Muller's hands two +envelopes plentifully decorated with sealing-wax +stamped with the great seal of the Netherlands. +The <i>controlleur</i> took them with trembling fingers. +Peter Gross calmly appropriated a chair. As he +seated himself he remarked:</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, you may sit."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck ignored the permission and strolled +to one end of the veranda. He was thinking deeply, +and all the while stole covert looks at Peter Gross. +Had he been mistaken, after all, in his estimate of +the man? Was this apparent guilelessness and simplicity +a mask? Were Koyala and Muller right? +Or was the resident's sudden assumption of dignity +a petty vanity finding vent in the display of newly +acquired powers?</p> + +<p>He stole another look. That face, it was so frank +and ingenuous, so free from cunning and deceit, +and so youthful. Its very boyishness persuaded +Van Slyck. Vanity was the inspiration for the resident's +sudden assertion of the prerogatives of his +office, he decided, the petty vanity of a boor eager +to demonstrate authority. Confidence restored, he +became keenly alert for a chance to humble this +froward Yankee.</p> + +<p>It was some time before Muller finished reading +the documents. He was breathing heavily the while,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +for he felt that he was reading his own death-warrant. +There was no doubting their authenticity, for they +were stamped with the twin lions of the house of +Orange and the motto, "<i>Je Maintiendrai</i>." The +signature at the bottom of each was the familiar +scrawl of Java's gamecock governor.</p> + +<p>Muller stared at them blankly for a long time, as +though he half hoped to find some mitigation of the +blow that swept his vast administrative powers as +acting resident from him to the magistracy of a +district. Dropping them on his lap at last with a +weary sigh, he remarked:</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Mynheer Gross, to Bulungan. I +wish I could say more, but I cannot. The most I +can say is that I am happy his excellency has at +last yielded to my petition and has relieved me of a +portion of my duties. It is a hard, hard residency +to govern, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>"A splendid start," Van Slyck muttered to himself +under his breath.</p> + +<p>"So I have been informed, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter Gross +replied gravely. "Pardon me a moment."</p> + +<p>He turned toward Van Slyck: "Captain, I have +a letter for you also from his excellency. It will +inform you of my appointment."</p> + +<p>"It would be better form, perhaps, <i>mynheer</i>, for +me to receive his excellency's commands at Fort +Wilhelmina," Van Slyck replied suavely, delighted +at being able to turn the tables.</p> + +<p>"Very true, very true, <i>kapitein</i>, if you insist,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +Peter Gross agreed quietly. "I hope to visit you at +the fort within the hour. In the mean time you will +excuse Mynheer Muller and me."</p> + +<p>For the second time a cold chill of doubt seized +Van Slyck. Was it possible that he had misjudged +his man? If he had, it was doubly dangerous to +leave Muller alone with him. He resolved to force +the issue.</p> + +<p>"A thousand pardons, <i>mynheer</i>," he apologized +smilingly. "Mynheer Muller just now requested +me to remain."</p> + +<p>A swift change came into the face of Peter Gross. +His chin shot forward; in place of the frank simplicity +on which Van Slyck had based his estimate +was a look of authority.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Muller cancels that invitation at my +request," he announced sternly.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck glanced in quick appeal at his associate, +but Muller's eyes were already lowering under +Peter Gross's commanding glance. Unable to find +a straw of excuse for holding the captain, the <i>controlleur</i> +stammered:</p> + +<p>"Certainly, <i>mynheer</i>. I will see you later, <i>kapitein</i>."</p> + +<p>Even then Van Slyck lingered, afraid now to leave +Muller alone. But the cold, gray eyes of Peter +Gross followed him; they expressed a decision from +which there was no appeal. Furious at Muller, +furious at his own impotence, the captain walked +slowly across the veranda. Half-way down the +steps he turned with a glare of defiance, but thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +better of it. Raging inwardly, and a prey to the +blackest passions, he strode toward the stockade. +The unhappy sentinel at the gate, a Javanese +colonial, was dozing against the brass cannon.</p> + +<p>"Devil take you, is this the way you keep guard?" +Van Slyck roared and leaped at the man. His +sword flashed from its scabbard and he brought the +flat of the blade on the unhappy wretch's head. +The Javanese dropped like a log.</p> + +<p>"Bring that carrion to the guard-house and put +some one on the gate that can keep his eyes open," +Van Slyck shouted to young Lieutenant Banning, +officer of the day. White to the lips, Banning saluted, +and executed the orders.</p> + +<p>In barracks that night the soldiers whispered +fearfully to each other that a <i>budjang brani</i> (evil +spirit) had seized their captain again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Fever Antidote</span></h3> + + +<p>"You have found Bulungan a difficult province +to govern, <i>mynheer</i>?" Peter Gross asked.</p> + +<p>The words were spoken in a mild, ingratiating +manner. Peter Gross's voice had the +friendly quality that so endeared him to all who +made his acquaintance, and the harshness that +had distinguished his curt dismissal of the supercilious +Van Slyck was wholly absent.</p> + +<p>Muller wiped away the drops of perspiration that +had gathered on his forehead. A prey to conscience, +Van Slyck's dismissal had seemed to him the beginning +of the end.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ach, mynheer</i>," he faltered, "it has been a heavy +task. Too much for one man, altogether too much. +Since Mynheer de Jonge left here two years ago I +have been both resident and <i>controlleur</i>. I have +worked night and day, and the heavy work, and the +worry, have made me almost bald."</p> + +<p>That a connection existed between baldness and +overwork was a new theory to Peter Gross and rather +amusing, since he knew the circumstances. But +not the faintest flicker of a smile showed on his face.</p> + +<p>"You have found it difficult, then, I presume, to +keep up with all your work?" he suggested.</p> + +<p>Muller instantly grasped at the straw. "Not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +only difficult, <i>mynheer</i>, but wholly impossible," he +vehemently affirmed. "My reports are far behind. +I suppose his excellency told you that?"</p> + +<p>He scanned Peter Gross's face anxiously. The +latter's serenity remained undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"His excellency told me very little," he replied. +"He suggested that I consult with you and Captain +Van Slyck to get your ideas on what is needed for +bettering conditions here. I trust I will have your +coöperation, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>Muller breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That +you will, <i>mynheer</i>," he assured fervently. "I shall +be glad to help you all I can. And so will Kapitein +Van Slyck, I am sure of that. You will find him a +good man—a little proud, perhaps, and headstrong, +like all these soldiers, but an experienced +officer." Muller nodded sagely.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear that," Peter Gross replied. +"The work is a little new to me—I presume you +know that?"</p> + +<p>"So I heard, <i>mynheer</i>. This is your first post as +resident?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's eyelids quivered a trifle. Muller's +admission revealed that he had had correspondence +with Ah Sing, for from no other source could the +news have leaked out.</p> + +<p>"This is my first post," he acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"Possibly you have served as <i>controlleur</i>?" Muller +suggested.</p> + +<p>"I am a sailor," Peter Gross replied. "This is +my first state appointment."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then my experience may be of value to you, +<i>mynheer</i>," Muller declared happily. "You understand +accounts, of course?"</p> + +<p>"In a measure. But I am more a sailor than a +supercargo, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, to be sure," Muller acquiesced +heartily. "A sailor to the sea and to fighting in the +bush, and a penman to his books. Leave the +accounts to me; I will take care of them for you, +<i>mynheer</i>. You will have plenty to do, keeping the +tribes in order. It was more than I could do. +These Dyaks and Malays are good fighters."</p> + +<p>"So I have been told," Peter Gross assented +dryly.</p> + +<p>"They told you correctly, <i>mynheer</i>. But they +will get a stern master now—we have heard of your +work at Lombock, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>The broad compliment was accompanied by an +even broader smile. Muller was very much pleased +with himself, and thought he was handling a delicate +situation in a manner that Van Slyck himself +could not have improved upon.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's gravity did not relax. "How are +the natives? Do you have much difficulty?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>Muller assumed a wobegone expression. "<i>Ach, +mynheer</i>," he exclaimed dolorously, "those hill Dyaks +are devils. It is one raid after another; they will +not let us alone. The rice-fields are swept bare. +What the Dyaks do not get, the floods and typhoons +get, and the weevils eat the stubble. We have not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +had a crop in two years. The rice we gathered for +taxes from those villages where there was a little +blessing on the harvest we had to distribute among +the villages where the crop failed to keep our people +from starving. That is why we could not ship to +Batavia. I wish his excellency would come here +himself and see how things are; he would not be so +critical about the taxes that are not paid."</p> + +<p>"Do the coast Dyaks ever make trouble?" Peter +Gross asked.</p> + +<p>Muller glanced at him shrewdly.</p> + +<p>"It is the hill Dyaks who begin it, <i>mynheer</i>. +Sometimes my coast Dyaks lose their heads when +their crops are burned and their wives and children +are stolen, but that is not often. We can control +them better than we can the hill people, for they are +nearer us. Of course a man runs amuck occasionally, +but that you find everywhere."</p> + +<p>"I hear there is a half-white woman who wields +a great influence over them," Peter Gross remarked. +"Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"You mean Koyala, <i>mynheer</i>. A wonderful +woman with a great influence over her people; they +would follow her to death. That was a wise act, +<i>mynheer</i>, to persuade his excellency to cancel the +offer he made for her person. Bulungan will not +forget it. You could not have done anything that +pleases the people more."</p> + +<p>"She is very beautiful, I have heard," Peter Gross +remarked pensively.</p> + +<p>Muller glanced at him sharply, and a quick spasm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +of jealousy contracted his features. The resident +might like a pretty face, too, was his instant thought; +it was an angle he had not bargained for. This +Mynheer Gross was strong and handsome, young—altogether +a dangerous rival. His mellow good +nature vanished.</p> + +<p>"That depends on what you call beauty," he +said surlily. "She is a witch-woman, and half +Dyak."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked up in pretended surprise.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>mynheer</i>, I am astonished. They told me +in Batavia—" He checked himself abruptly.</p> + +<p>"What did they tell you in Batavia?" Muller +demanded eagerly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross shook his head. "I should not have +spoken, <i>mynheer</i>. It was only idle gossip."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, <i>mynheer</i>," Muller pleaded. "<i>Lieve +hemel</i>, this is the first time in months that some one +has told me that Batavia still remembers Muller of +Bulungan."</p> + +<p>"It was only idle rumor," Peter Gross deprecated. +"I was told you were going to marry—naturally I +believed—but of course as you say it's impossible—"</p> + +<p>"I to marry?" Muller exclaimed. "Who? Koyala?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's silence was all the confirmation the +<i>controlleur</i> needed. A gratified smile spread over +his face; he was satisfied now that the resident had +no intention of being his rival.</p> + +<p>"They say that in Batavia?" he asked. "Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +between you and me, <i>mynheer</i>, I would have to look +far for a fairer bride."</p> + +<p>"Let me congratulate you," Peter Gross began, +but Muller stayed him.</p> + +<p>"No, not yet, <i>mynheer</i>. What I have said is for +your ears alone. Remember, you know nothing."</p> + +<p>"Your confidence is safe with me," Peter Gross +assured him.</p> + +<p>Muller suddenly recollected his duties as host.</p> + +<p>"Ho, <i>mynheer</i>, you must have some Hollands +with me," he cried hospitably. "A toast to our good +fellowship." He clapped his hands and Cho Seng +appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"A glass of lemonade or iced tea, if you please," +Peter Gross stated.</p> + +<p>"You are a teetotaler?" Muller cried in dismay.</p> + +<p>"As resident of Bulungan, yes, <i>mynheer</i>. A servant +of the state cannot be too careful."</p> + +<p>Muller laughed. "Lemonade and <i>jenever</i>, Cho +Seng," he directed. "Well, <i>mynheer</i>, I'll wager you +are the only resident in all the colonies that will not +take his glass of Hollands. If it were not for <i>jenever</i> +many of us could not live in this inferno. Sometimes +it is well to be able to forget for a short time."</p> + +<p>"If one has a burdened conscience," Peter Gross +conditioned quietly.</p> + +<p>Muller started. He intuitively felt the words +were not idle observation, and he glanced at Peter +Gross doubtfully. The resident was looking over +the broad expanse of sea, and presently remarked:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have a splendid view here, <i>mynheer</i>. I hope +the outlook from my house is half so good."</p> + +<p>Muller roused himself. "That is so, <i>mynheer</i>," +he said. "I had almost forgotten; we will have to +put your house in order at once. It has not been +occupied for two years, and will need a thorough +cleaning. Meanwhile you must be my guest."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter Gross replied +quietly.</p> + +<p>"You will have an establishment, <i>mynheer</i>?" +Muller asked curiously. "Have you brought servants? +If not, I shall be glad to loan you Cho +Seng."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I am well provided," Peter Gross +assured.</p> + +<p>Cho Seng padded out on the porch and served +them. Being a well-trained servant, he scarcely +glanced at his employer's guest, but Peter Gross +favored him with a thoughtful stare.</p> + +<p>"Your servant has been with you a long time, +<i>mynheer</i>?" he inquired carelessly.</p> + +<p>"A year, <i>mynheer</i>. I got him from Batavia. He +was recommended by—a friend." The pause was +perceptible.</p> + +<p>"His face seems familiar," Peter Gross remarked +in an offhand manner. "But that's probably imagination. +It is hard to tell these Chinese apart."</p> + +<p>Conscious of having said too much again, Muller +made no reply. They sipped their drinks in silence, +Peter Gross thinking deeply the while why Ah Sing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +should make a former waiter in his <i>rumah makan</i> +Muller's servant. Presently he said:</p> + +<p>"If it is not too much trouble, <i>mynheer</i>, could you +show me my house?"</p> + +<p>"Gladly, <i>mynheer</i>," Muller exclaimed, rising with +alacrity. "It is only a few steps. We will go at +once."</p> + +<p>For the next half hour Peter Gross and he rambled +through the dwelling. It was modeled closely +after the <i>controlleur's</i> own, with a similar green and +white faēade facing the sea. The atmosphere within +was damp and musty, vermin scurried at their +approach, but Peter Gross saw that the building +could be made tenable in a few days. At last they +came to a sequestered room on the north side, facing +the hills. An almost level expanse of garden lay +back of it.</p> + +<p>"This was Mynheer de Jonge's own apartment," +Muller explained. "Here he did most of his work." +He sighed heavily. "He was a fine old man. It +is too bad the good God had to take him away from +us."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer de Jonge was careless of his health, I +hear," he remarked. "One cannot be too careful +in Bulungan. Therefore, <i>mynheer</i>, I must ask you +to get me a crew of men busy at once erecting two +long houses, after these plans." He took a drawing +from his pocket and showed it to Muller. The +<i>controlleur</i> blinked at it with a puzzled frown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"These buildings will ruin the view, <i>mynheer</i>," +he expostulated. "Such long huts—they are big +enough for thirty men. What are they for?"</p> + +<p>"Protection against the fevers, <i>mynheer</i>," Peter +Gross said dryly. "The fevers that killed Mynheer +de Jonge."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>That evening, when Peter Gross had returned to +the ship, Muller and Van Slyck met to compare +notes. The captain was still boiling with anger; +the resident's visit to Fort Wilhelmina had not +soothed his ruffled temper.</p> + +<p>"He told me he brought twenty-five irregulars +with him for work in the bush," Van Slyck related. +"They are a separate command, and won't be quartered +in the fort. If this Yankee thinks he can +meddle in the military affairs of the residency he +will find he is greatly mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Where will they be quartered?" Muller asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he will place them in the huts he has +ordered me to build back of the residency," Muller +remarked, rubbing his bald pate thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"He told you to build some huts?" Van Slyck +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, some long huts. Big enough for thirty +men. He said they were to be a protection against +the fevers."</p> + +<p>"The fevers?" Van Slyck exclaimed in amazement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, the fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge, +he said."</p> + +<p>Van Slyck's face became livid with passion. +"Against the fevers that killed de Jonge, eh?" he +snarled. "The damned Yankee will find there are +more than fevers in Bulungan."</p> + +<p>He flashed a sharp look at Muller.</p> + +<p>"When you see Koyala," he said, "send her to +me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Defiance</span></h3> + + +<p>From his quarters in the residency building, +the same room where his predecessor, the +obstinate and perverse de Jonge, had lived +his brief and inglorious career, Peter Gross looked +across the rolling expanse to the jungle-crested hills +of Bulungan.</p> + +<p>It was now two weeks since his coming. Many +changes had been wrought during the fortnight. +The residency had been cleared of vermin and made +habitable. Paddy Rouse had been installed as +secretary and general factotum. The tangle of cane, +creeper growth, and nipa palm that had grown +in the park of shapely tamarinds since de Jonge's +death had been cut away. Two long, low buildings +had been erected as barracks, and Captain Carver +had converted the newly created plain into a drill-ground.</p> + +<p>They were drilling now, the khaki-clad twenty-five +that had crossed the Java Sea with Peter Gross. +Two weeks on shore, supplementing the shipboard +quizzes on the drill manual, had welded them into +an efficient command. The smartness and precision +with which they executed maneuvers compelled +a grudging admiration from the stolid Dutch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +soldiers of Fort Wilhelmina who strolled over daily +to watch the drills.</p> + +<p>"They'll do, they'll do," Peter Gross assured himself +with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>He stepped back to his desk and took a document +from it. It was Muller's first report as <i>controlleur</i>. +Peter Gross ran his eyes down the column of figures +and frowned. The accounts balanced and were +properly drawn up. The report seemed to be in +great detail. Yet he felt that something was wrong. +The expenses of administration had been heavy, +enormously heavy, he noted. Instead of exporting +rice Bulungan had been forced to import to make +good crop losses, the report showed.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Muller is a good accountant," he observed +to himself. "But there are a few items we +will have to inquire into." He laid the report aside.</p> + +<p>The door opened and Paddy Rouse entered. His +bright red hair, scrubby nose, and freckled face were +in odd contrast to his surroundings, so typically +Dutch. Mynheer de Jonge had made this retreat a +sanctuary, a bit of old Holland transplanted bodily +without regard to differences of latitude and longitude. +In the east wall was a blue-tile fireplace. +On the mantel stood a big tobacco jar of Delftware +with the familiar windmill pattern. Over it hung +a long-stemmed Dutch pipe with its highly colored +porcelain bowl. The pictures on the wall were +Rembrandtesque, gentlemen in doublet and hose, +with thin, refined, scholarly faces and the inevitable +Vandyke beard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A lady to see you, sir," Paddy Rouse announced +with military curtness, saluting. The irrepressible +Irish broke through in a sly twinkle. "She's a +beauty, sir."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross controlled the start of surprise he felt. +He intuitively guessed who his visitor was.</p> + +<p>"You may show her in," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And, Paddy—call Captain Carver, please."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The shock of red hair darted away.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked out of the window again. The +crucial moment, the moment he had looked forward +to since accepting his appointment, was upon him. +What should he say to her, this woman of two alien, +utterly irreconcilable races, this woman so bitterly +wronged, this woman with a hot shame in her heart +that would not die? How should he approach her, +how should he overcome her blind, unreasoning +hatred against the dominant white race, how persuade +her to trust him, to give her aid for the reclamation +of Bulungan?</p> + +<p>At the same time he wondered why she had come. +He had not anticipated this meeting so soon. Was +there something back of it? As he asked himself the +question his fingers drummed idly on the desk.</p> + +<p>While he was meditating he became suddenly +aware of another presence in the room. Turning, +he found himself looking into the eyes of a woman—the +woman of his thoughts. She stood beside him, +silent, possessed. There was a dagger in the snake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>skin +girdle she wore about her waist—a single thrust +and she could have killed him. He looked at her +steadily. Her glance was equally steady. He rose +slowly.</p> + +<p>"You are the Juffrouw Koyala," he announced +simply. "Good morning, <i>juffrouw</i>." He bowed.</p> + +<p>There was an instant's hesitation—or was it only +his imagination, Peter Gross asked himself—then +her form relaxed a trifle. So slight was the movement +that he would not have been sure had not +every muscle of her perfect body yielded to it with a +supple, rhythmic grace.</p> + +<p>"Won't you be seated?" he remarked conventionally, +and placed a chair for her. Not until then +did she speak.</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary, <i>mynheer</i>. I have only a few +words to say."</p> + +<p>The cold austerity of her voice chilled Peter Gross. +Yet her tones were marvelously sweet—like silver +bells, he thought. He bowed and waited expectantly. +In a moment's interlude he took stock of +her.</p> + +<p>She was dressed in the native fashion, sarong and +kabaya, both of purest white. The kabaya reached +to midway between the knees and ankles. Her limbs +were bare, except for doe-skin sandals. The girdle +about her waist was made from the skins of spotted +pit vipers. The handle of the dagger it held was +studded with gems, rubies, turquoises, and emeralds. +A huge ruby, mounted on a pin, caught the +kabaya above her breasts; outside of this she wore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +no jewelry. Her lustrous black hair hung loosely +over her shoulders. Altogether a creature of the +jungle, she looked at him with a glance in which +defiance was but thinly concealed.</p> + +<p>"What did you wish to see me about?" Peter +Gross asked when he saw that she was awaiting his +permission to speak.</p> + +<p>Something like a spark shot from the glowing +coals of her eyes. The tragic intensity of those +eyes stirred anew the feeling of pity in the resident's +heart.</p> + +<p>"I am told, <i>mynheer</i>, that the governor withdrew +his offer for my person at your request," she +said coldly.</p> + +<p>The statement was a question, Peter Gross felt, +though put in the form of a declaration. He +scrutinized her face sharply, striving to divine her +object.</p> + +<p>"That is true, <i>juffrouw</i>," he acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do this, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross did not answer at once. The direct +question astonished him.</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask, <i>juffrouw</i>?" he parried.</p> + +<p>Her finely chiseled head tilted back. Very royal +she looked, very queenly, a Diana of the tropic +jungle.</p> + +<p>"Because Koyala Bintang Burung asks no favors +from you, Mynheer Gross. Nor from any white +man."</p> + +<p>It was a declaration of war. Peter Gross realized +it, and his face saddened. He had expected oppo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>sition +but not open defiance. He wondered what +lay back of it. The Dyak blood in her, always +treacherous, never acting without a purpose, was +not frank without reason, he assured himself.</p> + +<p>"I had no intention of doing you a favor, <i>juffrouw</i>," +he announced quietly.</p> + +<p>"What was your object, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>The words were hardly out of her mouth before +she regretted them. The quick flash of her teeth +as she bit her lips revealed the slip. Peter Gross +instantly divined the reason—her hostility was so +implacable that she would not even parley with him.</p> + +<p>"To do you justice, <i>juffrouw</i>," he replied.</p> + +<p>The words were like oil on flame. Her whole +figure stiffened rigidly. The smoldering light in +her eyes flashed into fire. The dusk in her face +deepened to night. In a stifled voice, bitter with +scorn, she cried:</p> + +<p>"I want none of your justice, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not," Peter Gross assented heavily. +His head sagged and he stared moodily into the +fireplace. Koyala looked at him questioningly for +a moment, then turned swiftly and glided toward +the door. A word from Peter Gross interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"<i>Juffrouw!</i>"</p> + +<p>She turned slowly. The cold disdain her face +expressed was magnificent.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do?" he entreated. His mild, +gray eyes were fixed on her flaming orbs pleadingly. +Her lips curled in scornful contempt.</p> + +<p>"That is for you to decide, <i>mynheer</i>," she replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I cross from the slate all that has been +charged against you, <i>juffrouw</i>. You are free to +come and go as you wish."</p> + +<p>A flash of anger crossed Koyala's face.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon is neither asked nor desired, <i>mynheer</i>," +she retorted.</p> + +<p>"I must do my duty as I see it," Peter Gross replied. +"All that I ask of you, <i>juffrouw</i>, is that you +do not use your influence with the natives to hinder +or oppose the plans I have for their betterment. +May I have your pledge for that?"</p> + +<p>"I make no promises and give no pledges, <i>mynheer</i>," +Koyala announced coldly.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon—I should not have asked it of +you. All I ask is a chance to work out my plans +without hindrance from those whose welfare I am +seeking."</p> + +<p>Koyala's lips curled derisively. "You can promote +our welfare best by going back to Java, <i>mynheer</i>," +she retorted.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at her sadly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Juffrouw</i>," he said, "you are speaking words that +you do not know the meaning of. Leave Bulungan? +What would happen then? The Chinese would +come down on you from the north, the Bugis from +the east, and the Bajaus from every corner of the +sea. Your coasts would be harried, your people +would be driven out of their towns to the jungles, +trade would cease, the rice harvests would fail, +starvation would come upon you. Your children +would be torn from you to be sold in the slave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>-market. +Your women would be stolen. You are a +woman, <i>juffrouw</i>, a woman of education and understanding; +you know what the white man saves you +from."</p> + +<p>"And what have you whites given us in return +for your protection?" she cried fiercely. "Your +law, which is the right of a white man to cheat and +rob the ignorant Dyak under the name of trade. +Your garrisons in our city, which mean taking away +our weapons so that our young men become soft in +muscle and short in breath and can no longer make +war like their fathers did. Your religion, which +you force on us with a sword and do not believe +yourself. Your morals, which have corrupted the +former sanctity of our homes and have wrought an +infamy unspeakable. Gin, to make our men stagger +like fools; opium, to debauch us all! These are the +white man's gifts to the Dyaks of Borneo. I would +rather see my people free, with only their bows and +arrows and sumpitans, fighting a losing fight in their +jungles against the Malays and the Chinese slave-hunters, +than be ruined by arrach and gin and opium +like they are now."</p> + +<p>She was writhing in her passion. Her bosom rose +and fell tumultuously, and her fingers opened and +closed like the claws of an animal. In this mood she +was a veritable tigress, Peter Gross thought.</p> + +<p>"All that you have said is the truth," he admitted. +He looked very weary, his shoulders were +bent, and he stared gloomily into the hearth. Koyala +stared at him with a fierce intensity, half doubtful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +whether he was mocking her. But his dejection +was too patent to be pretense.</p> + +<p>"If you believe that, why are you here?" she +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Because I believe that Bulungan needs me to +correct these evils, <i>juffrouw</i>," he replied gently.</p> + +<p>Koyala laughed shrilly, contemptuously. Peter +Gross's form straightened and the thin, firm lines +of his lips tightened. He lifted a restraining hand.</p> + +<p>"May I speak for a few moments, <i>juffrouw</i>?" he +asked. "I want to tell you what I am planning to do +for Bulungan. I shall put an end to the gin and +opium trade. I shall drive the slave-hunters and +the pirates from these seas, and the head-hunters +from their <i>babas</i> (jungles). I shall make Bulungan +so peaceful that the rice-grower can plough, and +sow, and harvest with never a backward look to see +if an enemy is near him. I shall take the young men +of Bulungan and train them in the art of war, that +they may learn how to keep peace within their borders +and the enemy without. I shall readjust the +taxes so that the rich will pay their just share as well +as the poor. I shall bring in honest tax-collectors +who will account for the last grain of rice they +receive. Before I shall finish my work the <i>Gustis</i> +(Princes) will break their krisses and the bushmen +their sumpitans; hill Dyak and coast Dyak will sit +under the same tapang tree and take sirih and betel +from the same box, and the Kapala Kampong shall +say to the people of his village—go to the groves and +harvest the cocoanut, a tenth for me and a tenth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +for the state, and the balance for you and your +children."</p> + +<p>Koyala looked at him searchingly. His tremendous +earnestness seemed to impress her.</p> + +<p>"You have taken a big task upon yourself, <i>mynheer</i>," +she observed.</p> + +<p>"I will do all this, <i>juffrouw</i>, if you will help me," +Peter Gross affirmed solemnly.</p> + +<p>Scornful defiance leaped again into Koyala's eyes +and she drew back proudly.</p> + +<p>"I, <i>mynheer</i>? I am a Dyak of Bulungan," she +said.</p> + +<p>"You are half a daughter of my people," Peter +Gross corrected. "You have had the training of a +white woman. Whether you are friend or foe, you +shall always be a white woman to me, <i>juffrouw</i>."</p> + +<p>A film came across Koyala's eyes. She started to +reply, checked herself, and then spoke, lashing the +words out between set teeth.</p> + +<p>"Promise upon promise, lie upon lie, that has +been the way with you whites. I hate you all, I +stand by my people."</p> + +<p>Swift as the bird whose name she bore, she flashed +through the door. Peter Gross took a half-step +forward to restrain her, stopped, and walked slowly +back to his chair.</p> + +<p>"She will come back," he murmured to himself; +"she will come back. I have sown the seed, and it +has sunk in fertile ground."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the banyan grove Koyala, breathing rapidly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +because of her swift flight, came upon Kapitein +Van Slyck. The captain rose eagerly as she darted +through the cane.</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" he asked. "Did he try to +make love to you?"</p> + +<p>Koyala turned on him furiously. "You are a +fool, we are all fools!" she exclaimed. "He is more +than a match for all of us. I will see you later, when +I can think; not now." She left the clearing.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck stalked moodily back to the fort. At +the edge of the grove he slashed viciously at a pale +anemone.</p> + +<p>"Damn these women, you never can trust them," +he snarled.</p> + +<p>When the only sounds audible in the clearing were +the chirping of the crickets and the fluting of the +birds, a thin, yellow face with watery eyes peered +cautiously through the cane. Seeing the coast +clear, Cho Seng padded decorously homeward to +the <i>controlleur's</i> house, stepping carefully in the +center of the path where no snakes could lie concealed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Council</span></h3> + + +<p>The council of the chiefs was assembling. +From every part of Bulungan residency +they came, the Rajahs and the Gustis, the +Datu Bandars or governors of the Malay villages, +and the Orang Kayas and Kapala Kampongs, the +Dyak village heads. Their coming was in answer +to the call of Peter Gross, resident, for messengers +had been sent to every part of the province to announce +that a great <i>bitchara</i> (talk) was to be held in +Bulungan town.</p> + +<p>They came in various ways. The Malay Datu +Bandars of the coast towns, where the Malays were +largely in the ascendent, voyaged in royal sailing +proas, some of which were covered with canopies +of silk. Each had twenty men or more, armed to +the teeth, in his cortčge. The inland Rajahs traveled +in even greater state. Relays of slaves carried +them in sedan chairs, and fifty gleaming krisses +marched before and fifty after. The humbler Orang +Kayas and Kapala Kampongs came on foot, with not +more than ten attendants in their trains, for a village +head, regardless of the number of buffaloes in +his herd, must not aspire to the same state as a +Rajah, or even a Gusti. The Rajah Wobanguli<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +received each arrival with a stately dignity befitting +the ruler of the largest town in the residency, and +assigned him and his people the necessary number of +houses to shelter them.</p> + +<p>But these were not the only strangers in Bulungan. +From all the country round, and from every village +along the coast, Dyaks, Malays, Chinese, and +Bugis, and the Bajau sea-wanderers, streamed into +the town. The usually commodious market-place +seemed to shrink and dwindle as the crowd of +traders expanded, and the raucous cries of the venders +rang about the street to a late hour at night.</p> + +<p>In every second house a cock-fight was in progress. +Sweating, steaming bodies crushed each other in +the narrow streets and threatened ruin to the +thatched houses. Malays scowled at Dyaks, and +Dyaks glared vindictively at Malays. Shrewd, +bland Chinese intermingled with the crowd and +raked in the silver and copper coins that seemed to +flow toward them by a magnetic attraction. Fierce, +piratical Bugis cast amorous glances at the Dyak +belles who, although they shrank timidly into their +fathers' huts, were not altogether displeased at +having their charms noticed.</p> + +<p>There was hardly a moment without its bickering +and fierce words, and there were frequent brawls +when women fled shrieking, for hill Dyak and coast +Dyak and Malay and Bugi could not meet at such +close quarters without the feuds of untold generations +breaking out.</p> + +<p>Foremost in the minds and on the lips of every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +individual in that reeking press of humanity was +the question: "What will the <i>orang blanda</i> (white +man) want?" Speculation ran riot, rumor winged +upon rumor, and no tale was too fantastical to lack +ready repetition and credulous listeners. <i>Mynheer</i> +would exact heavy penalties for every act of piracy +and killing traced back to Bulungan, so the stories +ran; <i>mynheer</i> would confiscate all the next rice +crop; <i>mynheer</i> would establish great plantations and +every village would be required to furnish its quota +of forced labor; <i>mynheer</i> would demand the three +handsomest youths from each village as hostages +for future good behavior. Thus long before the +council assembled, the tide was setting against Peter +Gross.</p> + +<p>Bulungan was ripe and ready for revolt. It +chafed under the fetters of a white man's administration, +lightly as those fetters sat. Wildest of +Borneo's residencies, it was the last refuge of the +adventurous spirits of the Malay archipelago who +found life in the established provinces of Java, +Sumatra, and Celebes all too tame.</p> + +<p>They had tasted freedom for two years under +Muller's innocuous administration and did not intend +to permit the old order to be changed. Diverse as +their opinions on other matters might be, bitter +as their feuds might be, hill Dyak and coast Dyak, +Malay, Chinese, Bugi, and Bajau were united on this +point. So for the first time in Bulungan's history +a feeling of unanimity pervaded a conclave of such +mongrel elements as were now gathered in old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +"Rotterdam" town. This feeling was magnified +by a report—originating, no one knew where, and +spreading like wildfire—that the great Datu, the +chief of all the pirates of the island seas, the mysterious +and silent head of the great confederation, +was in Bulungan and would advise the chiefs how to +answer their new white governor.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross was not wholly ignorant of public +sentiment in the town. One of Captain Carver's +first acts on coming to Bulungan was to establish +the nucleus of a secret service to keep him informed +on public sentiment among the natives. A Dyak +lad named Inchi, whom Carver had first hired to +help with the coarsest camp work, and who had +formed an immediate attachment for his soldierly +white <i>baas</i>, was the first recruit in this service and +brought in daily reports.</p> + +<p>"Inchi tells me that the chiefs have decided they +will pay no more tax to the government," Carver +announced to Peter Gross on the morning of the +council. The resident and he were on the drill-ground +where they could talk undisturbed. Peter +Gross's lips tightened.</p> + +<p>"I expected opposition," he replied non-committally.</p> + +<p>"Too bad we haven't the <i>Prins Lodewyk</i> here," +Carver remarked. "A few shells around their ears +might bring them to their senses."</p> + +<p>"We don't need such an extreme measure yet," +Peter Gross deprecated gently.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know whether it's safe for us to venture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +into the town," Carver observed. "Couldn't you +arrange to have the meeting here, away from all that +mob? There must be thirty thousand people down +below."</p> + +<p>"I would rather meet them on their own ground."</p> + +<p>"It's a big risk. If there should be an attack, we +couldn't hold them."</p> + +<p>"Thirty thousand against twenty-five would be +rather long odds," Peter Gross assented, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You're going to use the fort garrison, too, aren't +you?" Carver asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"I shall take just two people with me," Peter +Gross announced.</p> + +<p>"My God, Mr. Gross! You'll never get back!" +Carver's face was tense with anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Three people will be just as effective as twenty-six, +captain," Peter Gross declared mildly. "The +victory we must gain to-day is a moral victory—we +must show the natives that we are not afraid."</p> + +<p>"But they're bound to break loose. A show of +military force would restrain them—"</p> + +<p>"I think it would be more a provocation than a +restraint, captain. They would see our helplessness. +If I go alone they will reason that we are +stronger than they think we are. Our confidence +will beget uncertainty among them."</p> + +<p>Carver had long since learned the futility of trying +to dissuade his chief from a course once adopted. +He merely remarked:</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll go?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, captain—" Peter Gross's face ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>pressed +sincere regret. "Nothing would please me +more than to have you with me, but I can't spare +you here."</p> + +<p>Carver realized that himself. He swallowed his +disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Whom were you planning on taking?" he asked +abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Inchi—"</p> + +<p>Carver nodded approval.</p> + +<p>—"And Paddy Rouse."</p> + +<p>"Paddy?" the captain exclaimed. "Of what +use—I beg your pardon, Mr. Gross."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross smiled. "It does seem a peculiar +mission to take that youngster on," he said. "But +Paddy's going to be rarely useful to me to-day, +useful in a way every man couldn't be. These +natives have a superstitious reverence for red +hair."</p> + +<p>An understanding smile broke upon Carver's +face.</p> + +<p>"Of course. A mighty good idea. Bluff and +superstition are two almighty-powerful weapons +against savages."</p> + +<p>"I also hope that we shall have another ally +there," Peter Gross said.</p> + +<p>"Who is that?"</p> + +<p>"The Juffrouw Koyala."</p> + +<p>Carver frowned. "Mr. Gross," he said, "I don't +trust that woman. She's Dyak, and that's the most +treacherous breed that was ever spawned. We've +got to look out for her. She's an actress, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +mighty clever in playing her little part, but she +can't hide the hate in her heart. She'll keep us on +the string and pretend she's won over, but the first +chance she gets to strike, she'll do it. I've met that +kind of woman in the Philippines."</p> + +<p>"I think you are wholly mistaken," Peter Gross +replied decisively.</p> + +<p>Carver glanced at him quickly, searchingly. +"She's a damn pretty woman," he remarked +musingly, and shot another quick glance at the +resident.</p> + +<p>"That has nothing to do with the matter," Peter +Gross replied sternly.</p> + +<p>Abruptly dropping the topic, Carver asked:</p> + +<p>"At what hour does the council meet?"</p> + +<p>"Four o'clock."</p> + +<p>"You'll be back by sundown?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not. I shall probably spend the +night with Wobanguli."</p> + +<p>Carver groaned. "Send Inchi if things look as +though they were going wrong," he said. "Might +I suggest that you let him go to the village right +away, and keep away from you altogether?"</p> + +<p>"If you'll instruct him so, please. In case there +is trouble, throw your men into the fort." He took +a package of papers from his pocket and gave them +to Carver. "Here are some documents which I +want you to take care of for me. They are all +addressed. One of them is for you; it appoints +you military commandant of Bulungan in case something +should happen to me down below. Don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +use it otherwise. If Van Slyck should make a fuss +you will know how to handle him."</p> + +<p>"I understand," Carver replied shortly, and +pocketed the envelope. He strode back to his +shelter with a heavy heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Peter Gross's Pledge</span></h3> + + +<p>The afternoon sun was pouring its full strength +on the coral highway to Bulungan when +Peter Gross rode to the council. He was +mounted on a thoroughbred that he had brought with +him from Java, and was in full-dress uniform. On his +breast gleamed several decorations awarded him by +Governor-General Van Schouten. It was the first +time he had used them, and it was not vanity that +inspired him to pin them on his coat. He realized +the importance of employing every artifice to impress +the native mind favorably toward its new ruler. +Paddy Rouse was in field-service uniform, and rode a +chestnut borrowed from the military stables.</p> + +<p>The terrific din created by several thousand gongs +of brass, copper, and wood, beaten in every part of +Bulungan to testify to the holiday, was plainly +audible as they cantered along the road.</p> + +<p>"Sounds like the Fourth of July," Paddy remarked +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>When they neared the village two Gustis, youthful +Dyak chiefs with reputations yet to make, charged +toward them with bared krisses. As the hoofs of +their jet-black steeds thundered toward Peter +Gross, Paddy gave his horse the spur and shot it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +half a length ahead of the resident. His hand was +on the butt of his pistol when a low-voiced warning +from his chief restrained him. Just as it seemed +that they would be ridden down the horsemen +parted and flashed by with krisses lifted to salute. +They wheeled instantly and fell in behind the resident.</p> + +<p>"Whew," Paddy whistled softly. "I thought +they meant business."</p> + +<p>"It was meant to do us honor," Peter Gross explained.</p> + +<p>More native princes spurred from the town to +join the procession. In each instance the demonstration +the same. Paddy noted that every +one was mounted on a black horse and carried a +kris whose handle was of either gold or ivory, and +was studded with gems. None used saddles, but +each horse was caparisoned with a gayly colored +saddle-cloth embroidered with gold thread. The +bridles were of many-colored cords and the bits of +silver. He pointed out these things to Peter Gross +in an undertone.</p> + +<p>"That shows that they are all of princely rank," +Peter Gross informed him.</p> + +<p>The din from the gongs became almost deafening +as they entered the outskirts of the town. The +crowd thickened also, and it became increasingly +difficult to break through the press. Paddy Rouse's +eyes swam as he looked into the sea of black and +brown faces grimacing and contorting. The scene +was a riot of color; every native was dressed in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +holiday best, which meant garments of the gaudiest +and brightest dyes that his means enabled him to +procure. Paddy noticed a patriarch in a pea-green +velvet jacket, blue and orange chawat, or waist-cloth, +and red, yellow, and blue kerchief head-dress. +Most of the kerchief head-dresses, worn +turban-fashion, were in three colors, blue predominating, +he observed.</p> + +<p>"Big reception they're giving us," Paddy remarked.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's reply was noncommittal. He felt +a little of the forces that were at work beneath the +surface, and realized how quickly this childishly +curious, childishly happy mob could be converted +into a bedlam of savagery.</p> + +<p>As they neared the huge twin Hindu deities, +carved in stone, that formed the gate-posts of +Wobanguli's palace grounds and the council-hall +enclosure, the crowd massed so thickly that it was +impossible for them to proceed. Paddy drove his +horse into the press and split an aisle by a vicious +display of hoofs and the liberal use of his quirt-stock. +The crowd gave way sullenly, those behind +refusing to give way for those in front. Paddy +leaned sidewise in his saddle as they passed between +the scowling gods.</p> + +<p>"Into the lion's den," he whispered to Peter Gross. +His eye was sparkling; roughing the natives had +whetted his appetite for action.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross sprang from his horse lightly—he +had learned to ride before he went to sea—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +entered the dimly lit hall. Rouse remained at the +entrance and began looking about for Inchi. The +little Malay was rubbing down a horse, but gave +no sign of recognition when Rouse's glance met his. +As Paddy looked away, his face, too, sobered. +Only his eyes were more keenly alert.</p> + +<p>As Peter Gross became accustomed to the semi-darkness, +he distinguished about forty chiefs and +princes seated along the side walls of the building. +There were two Europeans in the room in one corner. +Peter Gross guessed their identity before he +could distinguish their faces; they were Muller +and Van Slyck.</p> + +<p>At the farther end of the hall was a platform. +Two chairs of European make had been placed upon +it. Wobanguli occupied one, the other was vacant. +The hall was thick with smoke, for those who were +not chewing betel were laboring on big Dutch pipes, +introduced by their white rulers.</p> + +<p>Silence greeted Peter Gross as he slowly walked +the length of the hall, and none rose to do him the +customary honor. Instead of mounting the platform +he remained standing at its base and looked +sternly into the face of the Rajah. In a voice suspiciously +sweet he asked:</p> + +<p>"Is it so long since a son of the white father has +come to Bulungan that you have forgotten how he +must be received, O Rajah?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pregnant pause, a moment +when the royal mind did some quick thinking. +Then Wobanguli rose and said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We have heard the call and we are here, resident."</p> + +<p>The moment Wobanguli rose a quick rustle and +the clicking of steel apprised Peter Gross that +the others also had risen. Although he knew it +was not in his honor—custom forbade lesser chiefs +from sitting while the Rajah stood—he accepted +it as such. He did not look around until he had +mounted the platform. Then he gazed at each +man individually. Something in his silent scrutiny +sent a cold chill into the hearts of more than one of +the chiefs who had endured it, but most of them +returned it boldly and defiantly.</p> + +<p>Not until each of the forty had felt the power of +his mesmeric glance did Peter Gross speak.</p> + +<p>"You may tell the council the purpose of this +meting, Rajah," he announced, turning to Wobanguli, +and then seated himself in the vacant chair.</p> + +<p>As Wobanguli came forward, Peter Gross had an +opportunity to measure his man. The Rajah was +tall, quite tall for a Bornean, powerfully built, but a +trifle stoop-shouldered. His features were pronouncedly +Malay rather than Dyak; there was a +furtive look in his half-shut eyes that suggested +craft and cunning, and his ever-ready smile was too +suavely pleasant to deceive the resident.</p> + +<p>"A panther; he will be hard to tame," was Peter +Gross's unspoken thought.</p> + +<p>Wobanguli began speaking in sonorous tones, +using Malay-Dyak dialect, the <i>lingua franca</i> of the +residency.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rajahs, Custis, Datus, and Kapalas, to-day hath +Allah and the Hanu Token and the great god +Djath given a new ruler to Bulungan."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's brow contracted thoughtfully. It +was apparent from Wobanguli's exordium that he +was striving to please the adherents of every faith +represented among the natives present. The Rajah +continued:</p> + +<p>"In the days when the great fire mountains +poured their rivers of flame into the boiling ocean +our forefathers, led by the great god Djath, came to +Borneo. They built villages and begat children. +The fire mountains belched flame and molten rock, +the great floods came to drown the mountains, the +earth shook, and whole jungles were swallowed up; +but ever our fathers clung to the island they had +come to possess. Then Djath said: 'This is a +strong people. I shall make it my own, my chosen +people, and give to them and to their children's +children forever the land of Borneo.'</p> + +<p>"From the seed of our fathers sprang many +tribes. New nations came from over the sea and +found habitation with us, and we called them +'brother.' Last of all came the white man. He sold +us guns, and knives, and metals, and fine horses, +and the drink that Allah says we must not touch, +and opium. By and bye, when he was strong and +we were weak, he said: 'I will give you a resident +who shall be a father unto you. There will be no +more killings, but every man shall have plenty of +gongs and brass rings for his wives, and many bolts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +of brilliantly colored cloth, and much tobacco.' +So we let the white man give us a ruler."</p> + +<p>There was an ominous stirring among the assembled +chiefs. Peter Gross's face maintained an +inscrutable calm, but he was thinking rapidly. +Wobanguli's speech had all the elements of nitroglycerine, +he realized.</p> + +<p>"It is now many moons since the first white +father came to dwell with us," Wobanguli continued. +"Three times has the great fire mountain belched +flame and smoke to show she was angry with us, and +three times have we given of our gifts to appease +the spirits. We are poor. Our women hide their +nakedness with the leaves of palm-trees. Our +tribesmen carve their kris-handles from the branches +of the ironwood-tree."</p> + +<p>He paused. The air was electric. Another word, +a single passionate plea, would unsheath forty +krisses, Peter Gross perceived. Wobanguli was +looking at him, savage exultation leering in his +eyes, but Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle, +and he waited with an air of polite attention. Wobanguli +faced the assembly again:</p> + +<p>"Our elder brother from over the sea, who was +sent to us by the little father at Batavia, will tell us +to-day how he will redeem the promises made to us," +he announced. "I have spoken."</p> + +<p>So abrupt was the climax that Peter Gross +scarcely realized the Rajah had concluded until he +was back in his chair. There was a moment's +dramatic hush. Conscious that Wobanguli had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +brought him to the very edge of a precipice as a +test, conscious, too, that the Rajah was disappointed +because his intended victim had failed to reveal the +weakness he had expected to find, Peter Gross rose +slowly and impressively to meet the glances of the +forty chiefs now centered so hostilely upon him.</p> + +<p>"Princes of our residency of Bulungan"—he +began; there was a stir in the crowd; he was using +the native tongue, the same dialect Wobanguli had +used—"the Rajah Wobanguli has told you the purpose +of this meeting. He has told you of the promises +made by those who were resident here before +me. He has reminded you that these promises +have not been fulfilled. But he has not told you +why they were not fulfilled. I am here to-day to +tell you the reason."</p> + +<p>A low, whistling sound, the simultaneous sharp +intake of breath through the nostrils of forty men, +filled the room. Pipes and betel and sirih were laid +aside. Rajahs, governors, and princes craned their +heads and looked ominously over the shafts of their +spears at their resident.</p> + +<p>"There are in this land three peoples, or perhaps +four," Peter Gross said. "Only two of these are +the real owners of Borneo, the people whose fathers +settled this island in the early days, as your Rajah +has told you. They are the hill Dyaks and the +sea Dyaks, who are one people though two nations. +The Malays are outlanders. The Chinese are outlanders. +They have the same right to live here +that the white man has—no more, no less. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +right comes from the increase in riches they bring +and the trade they bring."</p> + +<p>A hoarse murmur arose. The Malay Datus' +scowls were blacker. The Dyaks looked sullenly +at their arch-enemies, the brown immigrants from +Malacca.</p> + +<p>"Long before the first white man came here, the +two nations of Dyaks—the Dyaks of the sea and +the Dyaks of the hills—were at war with each other. +The skulls of the people of each nation decorated +the lodge-poles of their enemies. The Dyaks of +the sea made treaties with the Bajaus, the Malays, +the Bugis, and the Chinese sea-rovers. Together +these people have driven the Dyaks of the hills far +inland, almost to the crest of the great fire mountains. +But the price they pay is the surrender of their +strong men to row the proas of their masters, the +pirates. The spring rains come, but the rice is left +unsowed, for a fair crop attracts the spoilers, and +only the poor are left in peace. Poverty has come +upon your Dyaks. Your kris-handles are of wood, +while those of your masters are of gold and jewels."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross paused. The Dyaks were glaring +at the Malays, the Malays looked as fiercely back. +Several chiefs were fingering their kris-handles. +Muller was watching the tribesmen in anxious +bewilderment; Van Slyck hid in the shadows.</p> + +<p>"Forget your feuds and listen to me," Peter Gross +thundered in a voice of authority that focused +instant attention upon him. "Let me tell you what +I have come to do for Bulungan."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>He turned a group of short, lithely built men +armed with spears.</p> + +<p>"To you, hill Dyaks, I bring peace and an end of +all raiding. No more shall the coast-rovers cross +your borders. Your women will be safe while you +hunt dammar gum and resin in the forests; the +man who steals a woman against her will shall hang. +I, your resident, have spoken."</p> + +<p>He turned toward the delegation of coast natives.</p> + +<p>"To you, Dyaks of the sea, I bring liberation +from your masters who make slaves of your young +men. There will be no more raids; you may grow +your crops in peace."</p> + +<p>To the scowling Malays he said:</p> + +<p>"Merchants of Malacca, think not that my heart +is bitter against you, for I bring rich gifts to you +also. I bring you the gift of a happy and contented +people, rich in the produce of this fertile +island, eager to buy the things you bring to them in +trade. The <i>balas</i> money which you now pay the +pirates will be counted with your profits, for I will +drive the pirates from these seas.</p> + +<p>"These are my commands to all of you. Keep +your houses in order. If a Dyak of the hills slay +a Dyak of the sea, keep your krisses sheathed and +come and tell me. If a man take a woman that is +not his own, keep your krisses sheathed and come +and tell me. If your neighbor arm his people and +drive your people to the jungle and burn their +village, come and tell me. I will do justice. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +swift and terrible will be my vengeance on him who +breaks the law."</p> + +<p>An ominous rumble of angry dissent filled the +hall. It was instantly quelled. Towering over +them, his powerful frame lifted to its full height, +Peter Gross glared at them so fiercely that the +stoutest hearts among them momentarily quailed +and shrank back. Taking instant advantage of +the silence, he announced sternly:</p> + +<p>"I am now ready to hear your grievances, princes +of the residency. You may speak one by one in the +order of your rank."</p> + +<p>Calmly turning his back on them, he walked back +to his chair.</p> + +<p>There was a tense silence of several minutes while +Datu looked at Rajah and Rajah at Datu. Peter +Gross saw the fierce sway of passions and conflicting +opinions. Muller looked from face to face with an +anxious frown, striving to ascertain the drift of the +tide, and Van Slyck grinned saturninely.</p> + +<p>A powerful Malay suddenly leaped to his feet, +and glared defiantly at Peter Gross.</p> + +<p>"Hear me, princes of Bulungan," he shouted. +"Year after year the servants of him who rules in +Batavia have come to us and said: 'Give us a tenth +of your rice, of your dammar gum, give us bamboo, +and rattan, and cocoanuts as tribute money and +we will protect you from your enemies.' Year after +year have our fields been laid waste by the Dyaks +of the hills, by the Beggars of the sea, till our people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +are poor and starve in the jungles, but no help has +come from the white man. Twice has my village +been burned by men from the white man's ships +that throw fire and iron; not once have those ships +come to save me from the sea Beggars. Then one +day a light came. Grogu, I said, make a peace +with the great Datu of the rovers of the sea, give +him a part of each harvest. Three great rains have +now passed since I made that peace. He has kept +my coasts free from harm, he has punished the +people of the hills who stole my cattle. With whom +I ask you, princes of Bulungan, shall I chew the +betel of friendship?"</p> + +<p>"Ai-yai-yai-yai," was the angry murmur that +filled the hall in a rising assent.</p> + +<p>A wizened old Malay, with a crooked back and +bereft of one eye, rose and shook a spear venomously. +His three remaining teeth were ebon from excessive +betel-chewing.</p> + +<p>"I had forty buffaloes," he cried in a shrill, +crackly voice. "The white man in the house on the +hill came and said: 'I must have ten for the balas +(tribute money).' The white kris-bearer from the +war-house on the hill came and said: 'I must have +ten for my firestick-bearers.' The white judge +came and said: 'I must have ten for a fine because +your people killed a robber from the hills.' Then +came the sea-rovers and said: 'Give us the last ten, +but take in exchange brass gongs, and copper-money, +and silks from China.' Whom must I serve, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +brothers, the thief who takes and gives or the thief +who takes all and gives nothing?"</p> + +<p>The tumult increased. A tall and dignified chief +in the farther corner of the hall, who had kept aloof +from the others to this time, now rose and lifted a +hand for silence. The poverty of his dress and the +lack of gay trappings showed that he was a hill +Dyak, for no Dyak of the sea was so poor that he +had only one brass ring on his arm. Yet he was a +man of influence, Peter Gross observed, for every +face at once turned in his direction.</p> + +<p>"My brothers, there has been a feud between +my people of the hill and your people of the coasts +for many generations," he said. "Yet we are all +of one father, and children in the same house. It is +not for me to say to-day who is right and who is +wrong. The white chief bids us give each other +the sirih and betel. He tells us he will make us +both rich and happy. The white chief's words are +good. Let us listen and wait to see if his deeds are +good."</p> + +<p>There was a hoarse growl of disapproval. Peter +Gross perceived with a sinking heart that most of +those present joined in it. He looked toward +Wobanguli, but that chieftain sedulously avoided +his glance and seemed satisfied to let matters drift.</p> + +<p>A young Dyak chief suddenly sprang to the middle +of the floor. His trappings showed that he was +of Gusti rank.</p> + +<p>"I have heard the words of the white chief and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +they are the words of a master speaking to his slaves," +he shouted. "When the buck deserts his doe to run +from the hunter, when the pheasant leaves the nest +of eggs she has hatched to the mercy of the serpent, +when the bear will no longer fight for her cubs, then +will the Sadong Dyaks sit idly by while the robber +despoils their villages and wait for the justice of the +white man, but not before. This is my answer, +white chief!"</p> + +<p>Whipping his kris from his girdle, he hurled it at +the floor in front of Peter Gross. The steel sank +deeply into the wood, the handle quivering and scintillating +in a shaft of sunlight that entered through +a crack in the roof.</p> + +<p>An instant hush fell on the assembly. Through +the haze and murk Peter Gross saw black eyes that +flamed with hate, foaming lips, and passion-distorted +faces. The lust for blood was on them, a moment +more and nothing could hold them back, he saw. +He sprang to the center of the platform.</p> + +<p>"Men of Bulungan, hear me," he shouted in a +voice of thunder. "Your measure of wickedness is +full. You have poisoned the men sent here to rule +you, you have strangled your judges and thrown +their bodies to the crocodiles, you have killed our +soldiers with poisoned arrows. To-day I am here, +the last messenger of peace the white man will send +you. Accept peace now, and you will be forgiven. +Refuse it, and your villages will be burned, your +people will be hunted from jungle to swamp and +swamp to highland, there will be no brake too thick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +and no cave too deep to hide them from our vengeance. +The White Father will make the Dyaks of +Bulungan like the people of the lands under the sea—a +name only. Choose ye, what shall it be?"</p> + +<p>For a moment his undaunted bearing and the +terrible threat he had uttered daunted them. They +shrank back like jackals before the lion, their voices +stilled. Then a deep guttural voice, that seemed +to come through the wall behind the resident's +chair, cried:</p> + +<p>"Kill him, Dyaks of Bulungan. He speaks with +two tongues to make you slaves on the plantations."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross sprang toward the wall and crashed +his fist through the bamboo. A section gave way, +revealing an enclosed corridor leading to another +building. The corridor was empty.</p> + +<p>The mischief had been done, however, and the +courage of the natives revived. "Kill the white +man, kill him," the hoarse cry arose. A dozen +krisses flashed. A spear was hurled, it missed +Peter Gross by a hair's breadth. Dyaks and +Malays surged forward, Wobanguli alone was between +him and them. Paddy Rouse sprang inside +with drawn pistol, but a hand struck up his pistol +arm and his harmless shot went through the roof. +A half-dozen sinewy forms pinned him to the ground.</p> + +<p>At the same instant Peter Gross drew his automatic +and leaped toward Wobanguli. Before the +Rajah could spring aside the resident's hand closed +over his throat and the resident's pistol pressed +against his head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"One move and I shoot," Peter Gross cried.</p> + +<p>The brown wave stopped for a moment, but it +was only a moment, Peter Gross realized, for life +was cheap in Borneo, even a Rajah's life. He +looked wildly about—then the tumult stilled as +suddenly as though every man in the hall had been +simultaneously stricken with paralysis.</p> + +<p>Gross's impressions of the next few moments were +rather vague. He dimly realized that some one +had come between him and the raging mob. That +some one was waving the natives back. It was a +woman. He intuitively sensed her identity before +he perceived her face—it was Koyala.</p> + +<p>The brown wave receded sullenly, like the North +sea backing from the dikes of Holland. Peter +Gross replaced his pistol in its holster and released +Wobanguli—Koyala was speaking. In the morgue-like +silence her silvery voice rang with startling +clearness.</p> + +<p>"Are you mad, my children of Bulungan?" she +asked sorrowfully. "Have you lost your senses? +Would the taking of this one white life compensate +for the misery you would bring on our people?"</p> + +<p>She paused an instant. Every eye was riveted +upon her. Her own glorious orbs turned heavenward, +a mystic light shone in them, and she raised +her arms as if in invocation.</p> + +<p>"Hear me, my children," she chanted in weird, +Druidical tones. "Into the north flew the Argus +Pheasant, into the north, through jungle and swamp +and canebrake, by night and by day, for the Hanu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +Token were her guides and the great god Djath and +his servants, the spirits of the Gunong Agong called +her. She passed through the country of the sea +Dyaks, and she saw no peace; she passed through +the country of the hill Dyaks, and she saw no peace. +Up, up she went, up the mountain of the flaming +fires, up to the very edge of the pit where the great +god Djath lives in the flames that never die. There +she saw Djath, there she heard his voice, there she +received the message that he bade her bring to his +children, his children of Bulungan. Here is the +message, chiefs of my people, listen and obey."</p> + +<p>Every Dyak groveled on the ground and even the +Malay Mahometans crooked their knees and bowed +their heads almost to the earth. Swaying from side +to side, Koyala began to croon:</p> + +<p>"Hear my words, O princes of Bulungan, hear +my words I send you by the Bintang Burung. Lo, +a white man has come among you, and his face is +fair and his words are good and his heart feels what +his lips speak. Lo, I have placed him among you +to see if in truth there is goodness and honesty in +the heart of a white man. If his deeds be as good as +his words, then will you keep him, and guard him, +and honor him, but if his heart turns false and his +lips speak deceitfully, then bring him to me that he +may burn in the eternal fires that dwell with me. +Lo, that ye may know him, I have given him a servant +whose head I have touched with fire from the +smoking mountain."</p> + +<p>At that moment Paddy, hatless and disheveled,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +plunged through the crowd toward Peter Gross. +A ray of sunlight coming through the roof fell on +his head. His auburn hair gleamed like a burst of +flame. Koyala pointed at him and cried dramatically:</p> + +<p>"See, the servant with the sacred flame."</p> + +<p>"The sacred flame," Dyaks and Malays both +muttered awesomely, as they crowded back from +the platform.</p> + +<p>"Who shall be the first to make blood-brother of +this white man?" Koyala cried. The hill Dyak +chieftain who had counseled peace came forward.</p> + +<p>"Jahi of the Jahi Dyaks will," he said. Peter +Gross looked at him keenly, for Jahi was reputed +to be the boldest raider and head-hunter in the hills. +The Dyak chief opened a vein in his arm with a +dagger and gave the weapon to Peter Gross. Without +hesitating, the resident did the same with his +arm. The blood intermingled a moment, then they +rubbed noses and each repeated the word: "Blood-brother," +three times.</p> + +<p>One by one Dyaks and Malays came forward and +went through the same ceremony. A few slipped +out the door without making the brotherhood covenant, +Peter Gross noticed. He was too elated to +pay serious attention to these; the battle was +already won, he believed.</p> + +<p>In the shadows in the rear of the hall Van Slyck +whispered in the ear of a Malay chieftain. The +Malay strode forward after the ceremonies were +over, and said gravely:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Blood-brother, we have made you one of us and +our ruler, as the great god Djath hath commanded. +But there was one condition in the god's commands. +If you fail, you are to be delivered to Djath for +judgment, and no evil shall come upon our people +from your people for that sentence. Will you pledge +us this?"</p> + +<p>They were all looking at him, Malay, hill Dyak, +and sea Dyak, and every eye said: "Pledge!" +Peter Gross realized that if he would keep their +confidence he must give his promise. But a glance +toward Van Slyck had revealed to him the Malay's +source of inspiration, and he sensed the trick that +lay beneath the demand.</p> + +<p>"Will you pledge, brother?" the Malay demanded +again.</p> + +<p>"I pledge," Peter Gross replied firmly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Poisoned Arrow</span></h3> + + +<p>"And so," Peter Gross concluded, "I pledged +my life that we'd put things to rights in +Bulungan."</p> + +<p>Captain Carver did not answer. It was dim +twilight of the evening following the council meeting—they +were met in Peter Gross's den, and the +captain had listened with an air of critical attention +to the nocturnal chirping of the crickets outside. +Had it not been for occasional curt, illuminative +questions, Peter Gross might have thought him +asleep. He was a man of silences, this Captain +Carver, a man after Peter Gross's own heart.</p> + +<p>"On the other hand they pledged that they would +help me," Peter Gross resumed. "There are to be +no more raids, the head-hunters will be delivered to +justice, and there will be no more trading with the +pirates or payment of tribute to them. Man for +man, chief for chief, they pledged. I don't trust +all of them. I know Wobanguli will violate his +oath, for he is a treacherous scoundrel, treacherous +and cunning but lacking in courage, or his nerve +wouldn't have failed him yesterday. The Datu of +Bandar is a bad man. I hardly expected him to +take the oath, and it won't take much to persuade +him to violate it. The Datu of Padang, the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +man who lost the forty buffaloes, is a venomous old +rascal that we'll have to watch. Lkath of the +Sadong Dyaks left while we were administering the +oath; there is no blood of fealty on his forehead. +But I trust the hill Dyaks, they are with me. And +we have Koyala."</p> + +<p>Another silence fell between the resident and his +lieutenant. It was quite dark now and the ends of +their cigars glowed ruddily. There was a tap on +the door and Paddy Rouse announced himself.</p> + +<p>"Shall I get a light, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it is necessary, Paddy," Peter +Gross replied kindly. He had conceived a great +affection for the lad. He turned toward Carver.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of the situation?" he asked +pointedly.</p> + +<p>Carver laid his cigar aside. It was not casually +done, but with the deliberateness of the man who +feels he has an unpleasant duty before him.</p> + +<p>"I was trying to decide whether Koyala is an +asset or a liability," he replied.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross, too, listened for a moment to the +chirping of the crickets before he answered.</p> + +<p>"She saved my life," he said simply.</p> + +<p>"She did," Captain Carver acknowledged. "I'm +wondering why."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross stared into the evening silence.</p> + +<p>"I believe you misjudge her, captain," he remonstrated +gently. "She hasn't had much chance in +life. She's had every reason for hating us—all +whites—but she has the welfare of her people at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +heart. She's a patriot. It's the one passion of her +life, the one outlet for her starved and stunted +affections. Her Dyak blood leads her to extremes. +We've got to curb her savage nature as far as we +can, and if she does break the bounds occasionally, +overlook it. But I don't question her absolute sincerity. +That is why I trust her."</p> + +<p>"If she were all Dyak I might think as you do," +Captain Carver said slowly. "But I never knew +mixed blood to produce anything noble. It's the +mixture of bloods in her I'm afraid of. I've seen +it in the Philippines and among the Indians. It's +never any good."</p> + +<p>"There have been some notable half-breed patriots," +Peter Gross remarked with a half-smile that +the darkness curtained.</p> + +<p>"Dig into their lives and you'll find that what an +infatuated people dubbed patriotism was just damned +meanness. Never a one of them, but was after loot, +not country."</p> + +<p>"You have old Sachsen's prejudices," Peter Gross +said. "Did I tell you about the letter I got from +him? I'll let you read it later, it's a shame to spoil +this evening. Sachsen warns me not to trust the +girl, says she's a fiend. He coupled her name with +Ah Sing's." The vicious snap of the resident's teeth +was distinctly audible. God, how an old man's +tongue clacks to scandal. "I thought Sachsen was +above it, but 'Rumor sits on the housetop,' as +Virgil says...."</p> + +<p>His voice trailed into silence and he stared across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +the fields toward the jungle-crowned hills silhouetted +against the brilliantly starlit sky.</p> + +<p>"Sachsen is too old a man to be caught napping," +Carver observed.</p> + +<p>"There probably is some sort of an understanding +between Koyala and Ah Sing," Peter Gross admitted +seriously. "But it's nothing personal. She +thought he could help her free Bulungan. I think +I've made her see the better way—at least induced +her to give us a chance to show what we can do."</p> + +<p>"You're sure it was Ah Sing's voice you heard?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross perceived from the sharp acerbity of +the captain's tone, as well as from the new direction +he gave their conversation, Carver's lack of sympathy +with his views on Koyala's conduct. He +sighed and replied mildly:</p> + +<p>"I am positive. There is no other bass in the +world like his. Hoarse and deep, a sea-lion growl. +If I could have forced the bamboo aside sooner, I +might have seen him before he dodged out of the +runway."</p> + +<p>"If he's here we've got the whole damn' wasp's +nest around our ears," Carver growled. "I wish +we had the <i>Prins</i> here."</p> + +<p>"That would make things easier. But we can't +tie her up in harbor, that would give the pirates free +play. She's our whole navy, with nearly eight +hundred miles of coastline to patrol."</p> + +<p>"And we're here with twenty-five men," Carver +said bitterly. "It would be damned farcical if it +wasn't so serious."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We are not here to use a mailed fist," Peter +Gross remonstrated mildly.</p> + +<p>"I understand. All the same—" Carver stopped +abruptly and stared into the silence. Peter Gross +made no comment. Their views were irreconcilable, +he saw. It was inevitable that Carver should +undervalue moral suasion; a military man, he recognized +only the arbitrament of brute force. The +captain was speaking again.</p> + +<p>"When do you begin the census?"</p> + +<p>"Next Monday. I shall see Muller to-morrow. +It will take at least two months, possibly three; +they're very easy-going here. I'd like to finish it +before harvest, so as to be able to check up the tax."</p> + +<p>"You're going to trust it to Muller?"</p> + +<p>The question implied doubt of his judgment. +Peter Gross perceived Carver was averse to letting +either Muller or Van Slyck participate in the new +administration outside their regular duties.</p> + +<p>"I think it is best," the resident replied quietly. +"I don't want him condemned on his past record, +regardless of the evidence we may get against him. +He shall have his chance—if he proves disloyal he +will convict himself."</p> + +<p>"How about Van Slyck?"</p> + +<p>"He shall have his chance, too."</p> + +<p>"You can't give the other man all the cards and +win."</p> + +<p>"We'll deal fairly. The odds aren't quite so big +as you think—we'll have Koyala and the hill Dyaks +with us."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"H'mm. Jahi comes to-morrow afternoon, you +say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I shall appoint him Rajah over all the hill +people."</p> + +<p>Carver picked up his cigar and puffed in silence +for several moments.</p> + +<p>"If you could only trust the brutes," he exploded +suddenly. "Damn it, Mr. Gross, I wish I had your +confidence, but I haven't. I can't help remember +some of the things that happened back in Luzon a +few years ago—and the Tagalogs aren't far distant +relatives of these cusses. 'Civilize 'em with a +Krag,' the infantry used to sing. It's damn' near +the truth."</p> + +<p>"In the heart of every man there's something +that responds to simple justice and fair dealing—What's +that?"</p> + +<p>A soft thud on the wall behind them provoked +the exclamation. Carver sprang to his feet, tore +the cigar from Peter Gross's mouth, and hurled it +at the fireplace with his own. Almost simultaneously +he snapped the heavy blinds together. +The next moment a soft tap sounded on the shutters.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross lit a match and stepped to the wall. +A tiny arrow, tipped with a jade point, and tufted +with feathers, quivered in the plaster. Carver pulled +it out and looked at the discolored point critically.</p> + +<p>"Poisoned!" he exclaimed. He gave it to the +resident, remarking ironically:</p> + +<p>"With the compliments of the Argus Pheasant, +Mr. Gross."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Summons to Sadong</span></h3> + + +<p>With pen poised, Peter Gross sat at his desk +in the residency building and stared +thoughtfully at the blank sheets of stationery +before him. He was preparing a letter +to Captain Rouse, to assure that worthy that all +was going well, that Paddy was in the best of health +and proving his value in no uncertain way, and to +give a pen picture of the situation. He began:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Captain</span>:</p> + +<p>Doubtless you have heard from Paddy before this, but I want +to add my assurance to his that he is in the best of health and +is heartily enjoying himself. He has already proven his value +to me, and I am thanking my lucky stars that you let me have +him.</p> + +<p>We have been in Bulungan for nearly a month, and so far all +is well. The work is going on, slowly, to be sure, but successfully, +I hope. I can already see what I think are the first fruits +of my policies.</p> + +<p>The natives are not very cordial as yet, but I have made some +valuable friends among them. The decisions I have been called +upon to make seem to have given general satisfaction, in most instances. +I have twice been obliged to set aside the judgments +of <i>controlleurs</i>, whose rulings appeared unjust to me, and in +both cases my decision was in favor of the poorer litigant. This +has displeased some of the <i>orang kayas</i>, or rich men, of the villages, +but it has strengthened me with the tribesmen, I believe.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>He described the council and the result, and continued:</p> + +<blockquote><p>I am now having a census taken of each district in the residency. +I have made the <i>controlleur</i> in each district responsible +for the accuracy of the census in his territory, and have made +Mynheer Muller, the acting-resident prior to my coming, chief +of the census bureau. He opposed the count at first, but has +come round to my way of thinking, and is prosecuting the work +diligently. The chief difficulty is the natives—some one has +been stirring them up—but I have high hopes of knowing, +before the next harvest, how many people there are in each +village and what proportion of the tax each chief should be +required to bring. The taxation system has been one of the +worst evils in Bulungan in the past; the poor have been oppressed, +and all the tax-gatherers have enriched themselves, +but I expect to end this....</p> + +<p>I had a peculiar request made of me the other day. Captain +Van Slyck asked that Captain Carver and his company be quartered +away from Bulungan. The presence of Carver's irregulars +was provoking jealousies among his troops, he said, and +was making it difficult to maintain discipline. There is reason +in his request, yet I hesitate to grant it. Captain Van Slyck +has not been very friendly toward me, and a mutiny in the garrison +would greatly discredit my administration. I have not +yet given him my answer....</p> + +<p>Inchi tells me there is a persistent rumor in the town that the +great Datu, the chief of all the pirates, is in Bulungan. I would +have believed his story the day after the council, for I thought I +recognized his voice there; but I must have been mistaken. +Captain Enckel, of the <i>Prins Lodewyk</i>, who was here a week +ago, brings me positive assurance that the man is at Batavia. +He saw him there himself, he says. It cannot be that my enemy +has a double; nature never cast two men in that mold in one +generation. Since Inchi cannot produce any one who will +swear positively that he has seen the Datu, I am satisfied that +the report is unfounded. Maybe you can find out something.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>As Peter Gross was affixing the required stamp, the +door opened and Paddy Rouse entered.</p> + +<p>"The baby doll is here and wants to see you," +Paddy announced.</p> + +<p>"Who?" Peter Gross asked, mystified.</p> + +<p>"The yellow kid; old man Muller's chocolate +darling," Paddy elucidated.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at him in stern reproof.</p> + +<p>"Let the Juffrouw Koyala be the Juffrouw Koyala +to you hereafter," he commanded harshly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Paddy erased the grin from his lips +but not from his eyes. "Shall I ask the lady to +come in?"</p> + +<p>"You may request her to enter," Peter Gross said. +"And, Paddy—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"—leave the door open."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The red head bobbed to hide another grin.</p> + +<p>Koyala glided in softly as a kitten. She was +dressed as usual in the Malay-Javanese costume of +kabaya and sarong. Peter Gross could not help +noticing the almost mannish length of her stride and +the haughty, arrogant tilt of her head.</p> + +<p>"Unconquerable as the sea," he mused. "And +apt to be as tempestuous. She's well named—the +Argus Pheasant."</p> + +<p>He placed a chair for her. This time she did +not hesitate to accept it. As she seated herself she +crossed her ankles in girlish unconsciousness. Peter +Gross could not help noticing how slim and perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +shaped those ankles were, and how delicately her +exquisitely formed feet tapered in the soft, doe-skin +sandals.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>juffrouw</i>, which of my <i>controlleurs</i> is in +mischief now?" he asked in mock resignation.</p> + +<p>Koyala flashed him a quick smile, a swift, dangerous, +alluring smile.</p> + +<p>"Am I always complaining, <i>mynheer</i>?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross leaned back comfortably. He was +smiling, too, a smile of masculine contentment. +"No, not always, <i>juffrouw</i>," he conceded. "But +you kept me pretty busy at first."</p> + +<p>"It was necessary, <i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross nodded assent. "To be sure, <i>juffrouw</i>, +you did have reason to complain," he agreed +gravely. "Things were pretty bad, even worse +than I had expected to find them. But we are +gradually improving conditions. I believe that my +officers now know what is expected of them."</p> + +<p>He glanced at her reprovingly. "You haven't +been here much this week; this is only the second +time."</p> + +<p>A mysterious light flashed in Koyala's eyes, but +Peter Gross was too intent on admiring her splendid +physical sufficiency to notice it.</p> + +<p>"You are very busy, Mynheer Resident," Koyala +purred. "I take too much of your time as it is with +my trifling complaints."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, not at all," Peter Gross negatived +vigorously. "The more you come, the better I +am pleased." Koyala flashed a swift glance at him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +"Come every day if you can. You are my interpreter, +the only voice by which I can speak to the +people of Bulungan and be heard. I want you to +know what we are doing and why we are doing it; +there is nothing secret here that you should not +know."</p> + +<p>He leaned forward earnestly.</p> + +<p>"We must work out the salvation of Bulungan +together, <i>juffrouw</i>. I am relying very much upon +you. I cannot do it alone; your people will not +believe in me. Unless you speak for me there will +be misunderstandings, maybe bloodshed."</p> + +<p>Koyala's eyes lowered before his beseeching gaze +and the earnestness of his plea.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, <i>mynheer</i>," she said softly. +"But you overestimate my powers. I am only a +woman—it is the Rajahs who rule."</p> + +<p>"One word from Koyala has more force in Bulungan +than the mandate of the great council itself," +Peter Gross contradicted. "If you are with me, if +you speak for me, the people are mine, and all the +Rajahs, Gustis, and Datus in the residency could not +do me harm."</p> + +<p>He smiled frankly.</p> + +<p>"I want to be honest with you, <i>juffrouw</i>. I am +thoroughly selfish in asking these things. I want +to be known as the man who redeemed Bulungan, +even though the real work is yours."</p> + +<p>Koyala's face was hidden. Peter Gross saw that +her lips pressed together tightly and that she was +undergoing some powerful emotion. He looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +at her anxiously, fearful that he had spoken too +early, that she was not yet ready to commit herself +utterly to his cause.</p> + +<p>"I came to see you, <i>mynheer</i>, about an affair +that happened in the country of the Sadong Dyaks," +Koyala announced quietly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross drew back. Koyala's reply showed +that she was not yet ready to join him, he perceived. +Swallowing his disappointment, he asked +in mock dismay:</p> + +<p>"Another complaint, <i>juffrouw</i>?"</p> + +<p>"One of Lkath's own people, a Sadong Dyak, was +killed by a poisoned arrow," Koyala stated. "The +arrow is tufted with heron's feathers; Jahi's people +use those on their arrows. Lkath has heard +that the head of his tribesman now hangs in front +of Jahi's hut."</p> + +<p>The smile that had been on Peter Gross's lips +died instantly. His face became drawn and hard.</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe it!" he exclaimed at length in a +low voice. "Jahi has sworn brotherhood with me +and sworn to keep the peace. We rubbed noses +and anointed each others' foreheads with the blood +of a fresh-killed buffalo."</p> + +<p>"If you choose the hill people for your brothers, +the sea people will not accept you," Koyala said +coldly.</p> + +<p>"I choose no nation and have no favorites," +Peter Gross replied sternly. "I have only one +desire—to deal absolute and impartial justice to all. +Let me think."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>He bowed his head in his hands and closed his +eyes in thought. Koyala watched him like a tigress +in the bush.</p> + +<p>"Who found the body of the slain man?" he +asked suddenly, looking up again.</p> + +<p>"Lkath himself, and some of his people," Koyala +replied.</p> + +<p>"Do the Sadong Dyaks use the sumpitan?"</p> + +<p>"The Dyaks of the sea do not fight their enemies +with poison," Koyala said scornfully. "Only the +hill Dyaks do that."</p> + +<p>"H-m! Where was the body? How far from +the stream?"</p> + +<p>"It was by a water-hole."</p> + +<p>"How far from Lkath's village?"</p> + +<p>"About five hours' journey. The man was +hunting."</p> + +<p>"Was he alone? Were there any of Lkath's +people with him?"</p> + +<p>"One. His next younger brother. They became +separated in the baba, and he returned home alone. +It was he who found the body, he and Lkath."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Peter Gross exclaimed involuntarily. +"Then, according to Dyak custom, he will have to +marry his brother's wife. Are there any children?"</p> + +<p>"One," Koyala answered. "They were married +a few moons over a year ago." Pensively she added, +in a woman's afterthought: "The woman grieves +for her husband and cannot be consoled. She is very +beautiful, the most beautiful woman of her village."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I believe that I will go to Sadong myself," +Peter Gross said suddenly. "This case needs investigating."</p> + +<p>"It is all I ask," Koyala said. Her voice had the +soft, purring quality in it again, and she lowered +her head in the mute Malay obeisance. The action +hid the tiny flicker of triumph in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I will go to-morrow," Peter Gross said. "I can +get a proa at Bulungan."</p> + +<p>"You will take your people with you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I will go alone."</p> + +<p>It seemed to Peter Gross that Koyala's face +showed a trace of disappointment.</p> + +<p>"You should not do that," she reproved. "Lkath +is not friendly to you. He will not welcome a blood-warrior +of Jahi since this has happened."</p> + +<p>"In a matter like this, one or two is always better +than a company," Peter Gross dissented. "Yet +I wish you could be there. I cannot offer you a +place in my proa—there will be no room for a +woman—but if you can find any other means of +conveyance, the state will pay." He looked at +her wistfully.</p> + +<p>Koyala laughed. "The Argus Pheasant will fly +to Sadong faster than your proa," she said. She +rose. As her glance roved over the desk she caught +sight of the letter Peter Gross had just finished +writing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you have been writing to your sweetheart," +she exclaimed. Chaffingly as the words were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +spoken, Peter Gross felt a little of the burning curiosity +that lay back of them.</p> + +<p>"It is a letter to a sea-captain at Batavia whom +I once served under," he replied quietly. "I told +him about my work in Bulungan. Would you care +to read it?"</p> + +<p>He offered her the envelope. Quivering with an +eagerness she could not restrain, Koyala half +reached for it, then jerked back her hand. Her +face flamed scarlet and she leaped back as though +the paper was death to touch. With a choking cry +she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I do not want to read your letters. I will see +you in Sadong—" She bolted through the door.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross stared in undisguised bewilderment +after her. It was several minutes before he recovered +and placed the letter back in the mailing +receptacle.</p> + +<p>"I never will be able to understand women," +he said sadly, shaking his head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Koyala's Ultimatum</span></h3> + + +<p>The house of Lkath, chief of the Sadong Dyaks, +stood on a rocky eminence at the head of +Sabu bay. The bay is a narrow arm of the +Celebes Sea, whose entrance is cunningly concealed +by a series of projecting headlands and jealously +guarded by a triple row of saw-tooth rocks whose +serrated edges, pointed seaward, threaten mischief +to any ship that dares attempt the channel.</p> + +<p>Huge breakers, urged on by the southeast monsoon, +boil over these rocks from one year's end to the +next. The headlands drip with the unceasing spray, +and at their feet are twin whirlpools that go down +to the very bowels of the earth, according to tradition, +and wash the feet of Sangjang, ruler of +Hades, himself. Certain it is that nothing ever +cast into the whirlpools has returned; certain it is, +too, say the people of Bulungan, that the Sang-sangs, +good spirits, have never brought back any +word of the souls of men lost in the foaming waters.</p> + +<p>In their rocky citadel and rock-guarded harbor +the Sadong people have for years laughed at their +enemies, and combed the seas, taking by force +when they could, and taking in trade when those +they dealt with were too strong for them. None +have such swift proas as they, and none can follow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +them into their lair, for only the Sadong pilots know +the intricacies of that channel. Vengeful captains +who had permitted their eagerness to outrun discretion +found their ships in the maelstrom and rent +by the rocks before they realized it, while the +Sadongers in the still, landlocked waters beyond, +mocked them as they sank to their death.</p> + +<p>Two days after Koyala had reported the murder +of the Sadonger to Peter Gross a swift proa approached +the harbor. Even an uncritical observer +would have noticed something peculiar in +its movements, for it cut the water with the speed of +a launch, although its bamboo sails were furled on +the maze of yards that cluttered the triangle mast. +As it neared the channel its speed was reduced, and +the chug-chug of a powerful gasoline motor became +distinctly audible. The sentinel on the promontory +gesticulated wildly to the sentinels farther inland, +for he had distinguished his chief, Lkath, at the +wheel.</p> + +<p>Under Lkath's trained hand the proa skipped +through the intricate channel without scraping a +rock and shot the length of the harbor. With +shouts of "<i>salaamat</i>" (welcome) the happy Sadongers +trooped to the water-front to greet their +chief. Lkath's own body-guard, fifty men dressed +in purple, red, and green chawats and head-dresses +and carrying beribboned spears, trotted down from +the citadel and cleared a space for the voyagers to +disembark from the sampans that had put out for +them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the royal sampan grounded, Lkath, with a +great show of ceremony, assisted out of the craft a +short, heavy-jowled Chinaman with a face like a +Hindoo Buddha's. A low whisper of awe ran +through, the crowd—this was the great Datu himself. +The multitude sank to its knees, and each man +vigorously pounded his head on the ground.</p> + +<p>The next passenger to leave the sampan was the +Rajah Wobanguli, tall, a trifle stoop-shouldered, and +leering craftily at the motley throng, the cluster of +houses, and the fortifications. A step behind him +Captain Van Slyck, dapper and politely disdainful +as always, sauntered along the beach and took his +place in one of the dos-ą-dos that had hastened forward +at a signal from Lkath. The vehicles rumbled +up the hill.</p> + +<p>When they neared the temple that stood close to +Lkath's house at the very summit of the hill an old +man, dressed in long robes, stepped into the center +of the band and lifted his hand. The procession +halted.</p> + +<p>"What is it, voice of Djath?" Lkath asked respectfully.</p> + +<p>"The <i>bilian</i> is here and awaits your presence," +the priest announced.</p> + +<p>Lkath stifled an exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Koyala is here," he said to his guests. Ah +Sing's face was expressionless. Wobanguli, the +crafty, smiled non-committally. Van Slyck alone +echoed Lkath's astonishment.</p> + +<p>"A hundred miles over jungle trails in less than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +two days," he remarked, with a low whistle. "How +the devil did she do it?"</p> + +<p>There was no doubting the priest's words, however, +for as they entered the temple Koyala herself +came to meet them.</p> + +<p>"Come this way," she said authoritatively, and +led them into a side-chamber reserved for the +priests. The room was imperfectly lit by a single +window in the thick rock walls. A heavy, oiled +Chinese paper served as a substitute for glass.</p> + +<p>"He will be here to-morrow," she announced. +"What are you going to do with him?"</p> + +<p>There was no need for her to mention a name, all +knew whom she referred to. A silence came upon +them. Van Slyck, Wobanguli, and Lkath, with the +instinct of lesser men who know their master, looked +at Ah Sing. The Chinaman's eyes slumbered between +his heavy lids.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with him, Datu?" +Koyala demanded, addressing Ah Sing directly.</p> + +<p>"The Princess Koyala is our ally and friend," he +replied gutturally.</p> + +<p>"Your ally waits to hear the decision of the council," +Koyala retorted coldly.</p> + +<p>Wobanguli interposed. "There are things, <i>bilian</i>, +that are not fitting for the ear of a woman," he murmured +suavely, with a sidelong glance at Ah Sing.</p> + +<p>"I am a warrior, Rajah, as well as a woman, with +the same rights in the council that you have," +Koyala reminded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>Wobanguli smiled his pleasantest. "True, my +daughter," he agreed diplomatically. "But he is +not yet ours. When we have snared the bird it is +time enough to talk of how it shall be cooked."</p> + +<p>"You told me at Bulungan that this would be +decided on shipboard," Koyala replied sharply. A +tempest began to kindle in her face. "Am I to be +used as a decoy and denied a voice on what shall be +done with my prisoner?"</p> + +<p>"We haven't decided—" Van Slyck began.</p> + +<p>"That is false!"</p> + +<p>Van Slyck reddened with anger and raised his +hand as though to strike her. Koyala's face was a +dusky gray in its pallor and her eyes blazed with +contempt.</p> + +<p>"Peace!" Ah Sing rumbled sternly. "He is my +prisoner. I marked him for mine before he was +named resident."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Datu," Koyala said significantly. +"He is my prisoner. He comes here +upon my invitation. He comes here under my +protection. He is my guest and no hostile hand shall +touch him while he is here."</p> + +<p>Ah Sing's brow ridged with anger. He was not +accustomed to being crossed. "He is mine, I tell +you, woman," he snarled. "His name is written in +my book, and his nails shall rest in my cabinet."</p> + +<p>The Dyak blood mounted to Koyala's face.</p> + +<p>"He is not yours; he is mine!" she cried. "He +was mine long before you marked him yours, Datu."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>Wobanguli hastened to avoid a rupture. "If +it is a question of who claimed him first, we can lay +it before the council," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"The council has nothing to do with it," Koyala +retorted. There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. +"I marked him as mine more than a year ago, when +he was still a humble sailor with no thought of +becoming resident. His ship came to the mouth of +the Abbas River, to Wolang's village, and traded +for rattan with Wolang. I saw him then, and swore +that one day he would be mine."</p> + +<p>"You desire him?" Ah Sing bellowed. The +great purple veins stood out on his forehead, and +his features were distorted with malignancy.</p> + +<p>Koyala threw back her head haughtily.</p> + +<p>"If I do, who is going to deny me?"</p> + +<p>Ah Sing choked in inarticulate fury. His face +was black with rage.</p> + +<p>"I will, woman!" he bawled. "You are mine—Ah +Sing's—"</p> + +<p>He leaped toward her and buried his long fingers, +with their sharp nails, in the soft flesh of her arm. +Koyala winced with pain; then outraged virginity +flooded to her face in a crimson tide. Tearing +herself away, she struck him a stinging blow in the +face. He staggered back. Van Slyck leaped toward +her, but she was quicker than he and backed +against the wall. Her hand darted inside her +kabaya and she drew a small, silver-handled dagger. +Van Slyck stopped in his tracks.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing recovered himself and slowly smoothed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +his rumpled garments. He did not even look at +Koyala.</p> + +<p>"Let us go," he said thickly.</p> + +<p>Koyala sprang to the door. She was panting +heavily.</p> + +<p>"You shall not go until you pledge me that he is +mine!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing looked at her unblinkingly. The deadly +malignancy of his face caused even Van Slyck to +shiver.</p> + +<p>"You may have your lover, woman," he said in a +low voice.</p> + +<p>Koyala stared at him as though turned to stone. +Suddenly her cheeks, her forehead, her throat even, +blazed scarlet. She flung her weapon aside; it +clattered harmlessly on the bamboo matting. Tears +started in her eyes. Burying her face in her arms, +she sobbed unrestrainedly.</p> + +<p>They stared at her in astonishment. After a +sidelong glance at Ah Sing, Wobanguli placed a +caressing hand on her arm.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bilian</i>, my daughter—" he began.</p> + +<p>Koyala flung his arm aside and lifted her tear-stained +face with a passionate gesture.</p> + +<p>"Is this my reward?" she cried. "Is this the +return I get for all I have done to drive the <i>orang +blanda</i> out of Bulungan? My lover? When no +lips of man have ever touched mine, shall ever touch +mine—" She stamped her foot in fury. "Fools! +Fools! Can't you see why I want him? He +laughed at me—there by the Abbas River—laughed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +at my disgrace—yea, I know he was laughing, +though he hid his smile with the cunning of the +<i>orang blanda</i>. I swore then that he would be mine—that +some day he should kneel before me, and beg +for these arms around his, and my kiss on his lips. +Then I would sink a dagger into his heart as I bent +to kiss him—let him drink the deep sleep that has +no ending outside of Sangjang."</p> + +<p>Her fingers clenched spasmodically, as though she +already felt the hilt of the fatal blade between them.</p> + +<p>Van Slyck drew a deep breath. The depth of her +savage, elemental passion dazed him. She looked +from man to man, and as he felt her eyes upon him +he involuntarily stepped back a pace, shuddering. +The doubt he had of her a few moments before vanished; +he did not question but what he had glimpsed +into her naked soul. Lkath and Wobanguli were +convinced, too, for fear and awe of this wonderful +woman were expressed on their faces. Ah Sing +alone scanned her face distrustfully.</p> + +<p>"Why should I trust you?" he snarled.</p> + +<p>Koyala started, then shrugged her shoulders indifferently +and flung the door open for them to pass +out. As Ah Sing passed her he halted a moment +and said significantly:</p> + +<p>"I give you his life to-day. But remember, +Bintang Burung, there is one more powerful than +all the princes of Bulungan."</p> + +<p>"The god Djath is greater than all princes and +Datus," Koyala replied quietly. "I am his priestess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +Answer, Lkath, whose voice is heard before yours in +Sadong?"</p> + +<p>Lkath bowed low, almost to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Djath rules us all," he acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"You see," Koyala said to Ah Sing, "even your +life is mine."</p> + +<p>Something like fear came into the eyes of the +Chinaman for the first time.</p> + +<p>"I go back to Bulungan," he announced thickly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Lkath's Conversion</span></h3> + + +<p>The afternoon sun was waning when Peter +Gross's sailing proa arrived at Sadong. +The resident had been fortunate in finding +a Sadonger at Bulungan, and a liberal promise of +brass bracelets and a bolt of cloth persuaded the +rover to pilot them into Sadong harbor. Paddy +Rouse accompanied his chief.</p> + +<p>A vociferous crowd of Dyaks hastened to the +beach under the misapprehension that the proa +was a trader. When shouts from the crew apprised +them that the <i>orang blanda</i> chief was aboard, +their cries of welcome died away. Glances of +curious and friendly interest changed to glances of +hostility, and men on the edges of the crowd slunk +away to carry the news through the village. The +inhospitable reception depressed Peter Gross, but +he resolutely stepped into one of the sampans that +had put off from shore at the proa's arrival and was +paddled to the beach.</p> + +<p>"We must be awfully popular here," Paddy remarked +cheerfully, and he looked unabashed into +the scowling faces of the natives. He lifted his hat. +Rays from the low-hanging sun shone through his +ruddy, tousled hair, making it gleam like living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +flame. A murmur of surprise ran through the +crowd. Several Dyaks dropped to their knees.</p> + +<p>"They're beginning to find their prayer-bones, +Mr. Gross," Paddy pointed out, blissfully unconscious +that it was he who had inspired their reverence.</p> + +<p>At that moment Peter Gross saw a familiar girlish +figure stride lightly down the lane. His face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Good-afternoon, <i>juffrouw</i>!" he exclaimed delightedly +as she approached. "How did you get +here so soon?"</p> + +<p>He offered his hand, and after a moment's hesitation +Koyala permitted his friendly clasp to encircle +the tips of her fingers.</p> + +<p>"Lkath has a house ready for you," she said. +"The dos-ą-dos will be here in a moment." They +chatted while the natives gaped until the jiggly, +two-wheeled carts clattered toward them.</p> + +<p>Lkath received them at the door of his house. +Peter Gross needed only a glance into his face to +see that Koyala had not been mistaken in her warning. +Lkath entertained no friendly feeling toward +him.</p> + +<p>"Welcome to the falcon's nest," Lkath said.</p> + +<p>The words were spoken with a stately courtesy +in which no cordiality mingled. Dyak tradition +forbade closing a door to a guest, however unwelcome +the guest might be.</p> + +<p>Seized with a sudden admiration of his host, who +could swallow his prejudices to maintain the tra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>ditional +hospitality of his race, Peter Gross resolved +to win his friendship at all costs. It was his newborn +admiration that inspired him to reply:</p> + +<p>"Your house is well named, Gusti. None but +eagles would dare roost above the gate to Sangjang."</p> + +<p>Lkath's stern features relaxed with a gratified +smile, showing that the compliment had pleased +him. There was more warmth in his voice as he +said:</p> + +<p>"My poor house and all that is in it is yours, +Mynheer Resident."</p> + +<p>"There is no door in Borneo more open than +Lkath's," Peter responded. "I am happy to be +here with you, brother."</p> + +<p>The words were the signal, according to Dyak +custom, for Lkath to step forward and rub noses. +But the chief drew back.</p> + +<p>"The blood of one of my people is between us, +Mynheer Resident," he said bluntly. "There can +be no talk of brother until the Sadong Dyaks are +avenged."</p> + +<p>"Am I not here to do justice?" Peter Gross +asked. "To-morrow, when the sun is an hour high, +we will have a council. Bring your people who +know of this thing before me at that time."</p> + +<p>Lkath bowed and said: "Very good, Mynheer +Resident."</p> + +<p>Having performed his duty as head of his nation, +Lkath the chief became Lkath the host, and ushered +Peter Gross, Rouse, and Koyala into the house. +Peter Gross was surprised to find the dwelling fitted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +out with such European conveniences as chandelier +oil-lamps, chairs, and tables, and even a reed organ. +Boys dressed in white appeared with basins of water +and napkins on silver salvers for ablutions. The +dinner was all that an epicure could desire. Madeira +and bitters were first offered, together with a well-spiced +vegetable soup. Several dishes of fowls and +other edible birds, cooked in various ways, followed. +Then a roast pig, emitting a most savory odor, was +brought in, a fricassée of bats, rice, potatoes, and +other vegetables, stewed durian, and, lastly, various +native fruits and nuts. Gin, punch, and a native +beer were served between courses.</p> + +<p>Lkath's formal dignity mellowed under the influence +of food and wine, and he became more loquacious. +By indirect reference Peter Gross obtained, +piece by piece, a coherent account of the hunting +trip on which the Sadonger had lost his life. It +confirmed his suspicion that the brother knew far +more about the murder than he had admitted, but +he kept his own counsel.</p> + +<p>The next morning the elders assembled in the +<i>balais</i>, or assembly-hall. Peter Gross listened to +the testimony offered. He said little, and the only +man he questioned was the Sadonger's brother, +Lkath's chief witness.</p> + +<p>"How did they know it was Jahi who was responsible?" +he asked the Sadongers who had accompanied +Lkath on the search. "They broke into voluble +protestations. Did they use the sumpitan? +Was it not exclusively a weapon of the hill Dyaks?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +Did not the feathers on the arrow show that it +came from Jahi's tribe? And did they not find a +strip of red calico from a hillman's chawat in the +bush?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross did not answer their questions. +"Show me where the body was found," he directed.</p> + +<p>Paddy Rouse, usually bold to temerariousness, +protested in dismay, pointing out the danger in +venturing into the jungle with savages so avowedly +unfriendly.</p> + +<p>"There is no middle course for those who venture +into the lion's den," Peter Gross replied. "We will +be in no greater danger in the jungle than here, and +I may be able to solve the mystery and do our cause +some good."</p> + +<p>"I'm with you wherever you go," Paddy said +loyally.</p> + +<p>Lkath led the expedition in person. To Peter +Gross's great relief, Koyala went also. The journey +took nearly five hours, for the road was very +rugged and there were many détours on account of +swamps, fallen trees, and impenetrable thickets. +Koyala rode next to Peter Gross all the way. He +instinctively felt that she did so purposely to protect +him from possible treachery. It increased his +sense of obligation toward her. At the same time +he realized keenly his own inability to make an adequate +recompense. Old Sachsen's words, "If you +can induce her to trust us, half your work is done," +came to him with redoubled force.</p> + +<p>They talked of Bulungan, its sorry history, its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +possibilities for development. Koyala's eyes glowed +with a strange light, and she spoke with an ardency +that surprised the resident.</p> + +<p>"How she loves her country!" he thought.</p> + +<p>They were riding single file along a narrow jungle-path +when Koyala's horse stumbled over a hidden +creeper. She was not watching the path at the +moment, and would have fallen had not Peter Gross +spurred his animal alongside and caught her. Her +upturned face looked into his as his arm circled +about her and held her tightly. There was a furious +rush of blood to her cheeks; then she swung back +into the saddle lightly as a feather and spurred her +horse ahead. A silence came between them, and +when the path widened and he was able to ride +beside her again, he saw that her eyes were red.</p> + +<p>"These roads are very dusty," he remarked, +wiping a splinter of fine shale from his own eyes.</p> + +<p>When they reached the scene of the murder Peter +Gross carefully studied the lay of the land. Lkath +and the dead man's brother, upon request, showed +him where the red calico was found, and how the +body lay by the water-hole. Standing in the bush +where the red calico strip had been discovered, +Peter Gross looked across the seven or eight rods to +the water-hole and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"There is some mistake," he said. "No man can +blow an arrow that far."</p> + +<p>Lkath's face flashed with anger. "When I was +a boy, Mynheer Resident, I learned to shoot the +sumpitan," he said. "Let me show you how a Dyak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +can shoot." He took the sumpitan which they had +taken with them at Peter Gross's request, placed an +arrow in the orifice, distended his cheeks, and blew. +The shaft went across the water-hole.</p> + +<p>"A wonderful shot!" Peter Gross exclaimed in +pretended amazement. "There is none other can +shoot like Lkath."</p> + +<p>Several Sadongers offered to show what they +could do. None of the shafts went quite so far as +their chief's. Taking the weapon from them, Peter +Gross offered it to the dead Sadonger's brother.</p> + +<p>"Let us see how far you can shoot," he said +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>The man shrank back. Peter Gross noticed his +quick start of fear. "I cannot shoot," he protested.</p> + +<p>"Try," Peter Gross insisted firmly, forcing the +sumpitan into his hand. The Sadonger lifted it to +his lips with trembling hands, the weapon shaking +so that careful aim was impossible. He closed his +eyes, took a quick half-breath, and blew. The +arrow went little more than half the distance to the +water-hole.</p> + +<p>"You did not blow hard enough," Peter Gross said. +"Try once more." But the Sadonger, shaking his +head, retreated among his companions, and the +resident did not press the point. He turned to +Lkath.</p> + +<p>"It is time to start, if we are to be back in Sadong +before <i>malam</i>" (night) "casts its mantle over the +earth," he said. Well content with the showing he +had made, Lkath agreed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were passing the temple; it was an hour +before sundown when Peter Gross said suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Let us speak with Djath on this matter." He +singled out Koyala, Lkath, and the Sadonger's +brother, inviting them to enter the temple with him. +A dusky pallor came over the Sadonger's face, but +he followed the others into the enclosure.</p> + +<p>"The great god Djath is not my god," Peter +Gross said, when they had entered the silent hall +and stood between the rows of grinning idols. +"Yet I have heard that he is a god who loves the +truth and hates falsehood. It seems good to me, +therefore, that the Bintang Burung call down +Djath's curse on this slayer of one of your people. +Then, when the curse falls, we may know without +doubt who the guilty one is. Is it good, Lkath?"</p> + +<p>The chief, although plainly amazed at hearing +such a suggestion from a white man, was impressed +with the idea.</p> + +<p>"It is good," he assented heartily.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at Koyala. She was staring +at him with a puzzled frown, as if striving to fathom +his purpose.</p> + +<p>"Invoke us a curse, O Bintang Burung, on the +slayer," he asked. "Speak your bitterest curse. +Give him to the Budjang Brani, to the eternal fires +at the base of the Gunong Agong."</p> + +<p>Koyala's frown deepened, and she seemed on the +point of refusal, when Lkath urged: "Call us down a +curse, daughter of Djath, I beg you."</p> + +<p>Seeing there was no escape, Koyala sank to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +knees and lifted her hands to the vault above. A +vacant stare came into her eyes. Her lips began to +move, first almost inaudibly; then Peter Gross +distinguished the refrain of an uninterpretable +formula of the Bulungan priesthood, a formula +handed down to her by her grandfather, Chawatangi. +Presently she began her curse in a mystic drone:</p> + +<p>"May his eyes be burned out with fire; may the +serpents devour his limbs; may the vultures eat his +flesh; may the wild pigs defile his bones; may his +soul burn in the eternal fires of the Gunong Agong—"</p> + +<p>"Mercy, <i>bilian</i>, mercy!" Shrieking his plea, the +dead Sadonger's brother staggered forward and +groveled at Koyala's feet. "I will tell all!" he +gasped. "I shot the arrow; I killed my brother; +for the love of his woman I killed him—"</p> + +<p>He fell in a fit, foaming at the mouth.</p> + +<p>There was utter silence for a moment. Then +Peter Gross said to the aged priest who kept the +temple:</p> + +<p>"Call the guard, father, and have this carrion +removed to the jail." At a nod from Lkath, the +priest went.</p> + +<p>Neither Lkath nor Koyala broke the silence until +they had returned to the former's house. Peter +Gross, elated at the success of his mission, was puzzled +and disappointed at the look he surprised on +Koyala's face, a look of dissatisfaction at the turn +of events. The moment she raised her eyes to meet +his, however, her face brightened.</p> + +<p>When they were alone Lkath asked:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How did you know, O wise one?" His voice +expressed an almost superstitious reverence.</p> + +<p>"The gods reveal many things to those they love," +was Peter Gross's enigmatical reply.</p> + +<p>To Paddy Rouse, who asked the same question, +he made quite a different reply.</p> + +<p>"It was really quite simple," he said. "The only +man with a motive for the crime was the brother. +He wanted the wife. His actions at the water-hole +convinced me he was guilty; all that was necessary +was a little claptrap and an appeal to native superstition +to force him to confess. This looked bad +for us at the start, but it has proven the most fortunate +thing that could have happened. Lkath will +be with us now."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Captured by Pirates</span></h3> + + +<p>When they rose the next morning Peter +Gross inquired for his host, but was met +with evasive replies. A premonition that +something had gone wrong came upon him. He +asked for Koyala.</p> + +<p>"The Bintang Burung has flown to the jungle," +one of the servant lads informed him after several +of the older natives had shrugged their shoulders, +professing ignorance.</p> + +<p>"When did she go?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The stars were still shining, Datu, when she +spread her wings," the lad replied. The feeling +that something was wrong grew upon the resident.</p> + +<p>An hour passed, with no sign of Lkath. Attempting +to leave the house, Peter Gross and Paddy were +politely but firmly informed that they must await +the summons to the <i>balais</i>, or assembly-hall, from the +chieftain.</p> + +<p>"This is a rum go," Paddy grumbled.</p> + +<p>"I am very much afraid that something has +happened to turn Lkath against us," Peter Gross +remarked. "I wish Koyala had stayed."</p> + +<p>The summons to attend the <i>balais</i> came a little +later. When they entered the hall they saw a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +crowd of natives assembled. Lkath was seated +in the judge's seat. Peter Gross approached him to +make the customary salutation, but Lkath rose and +folded his hands over his chest.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Resident," the chief said with dignity, +"your mission in Sadong is accomplished. You have +saved us from a needless war with the hill people. +But I and the elders of my tribe have talked over +this thing, and we have decided that it is best you +should go. The Sadong Dyaks owe nothing to the +<i>orang blanda</i>. They ask nothing of the <i>orang +blanda</i>. You came in peace. Go in peace."</p> + +<p>A tumult of emotions rose in Peter Gross's breast. +To see the fruits of his victory snatched from him in +this way was unbearable. A wild desire to plead +with Lkath, to force him to reason, came upon him, +but he fought it down. It would only hurt his +standing among the natives, he knew; he must command, +not beg.</p> + +<p>"It shall be as you say, Lkath," he said. "Give +me a pilot and let me go."</p> + +<p>"He awaits you on the beach," Lkath replied. +With this curt dismissal, Peter Gross was forced +to go.</p> + +<p>The failure of his mission weighed heavily upon +Peter Gross, and he said little all that day. Paddy +could see that his chief was wholly unable to account +for Lkath's change of sentiment. Several times he +heard the resident murmur: "If only Koyala had +stayed."</p> + +<p>Shortly before sundown, while their proa was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +making slow headway against an unfavorable +breeze Paddy noticed his chief standing on the +raised afterdeck, watching another proa that had +sailed out of a jungle-hid creek-mouth shortly before +and was now following in their wake. He cocked +an eye at the vessel himself and remarked:</p> + +<p>"Is that soap-dish faster than ours, or are we +gaining?"</p> + +<p>"That is precisely what I am trying to decide," +Peter Gross answered gravely.</p> + +<p>Paddy observed the note of concern in the resident's +voice.</p> + +<p>"She isn't a pirate, is she?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"I am very much afraid she is." Peter Gross +spoke calmly, but Paddy noticed a tremor in his +voice.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll have to fight for it?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross avoided a direct reply. "I'm wondering +why she can stay so close inshore and outsail +us," he said. "The wind is offshore, those high hills +should cut her off from what little breeze we're +getting, yet she neither gains nor loses an inch on us."</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't she come out where she can get +the breeze?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, why doesn't she?" Peter Gross echoed. +"If she were an honest trader she would. But +keeping that course enables her to intercept us in +case we should try to make shore."</p> + +<p>Paddy did not appear greatly disturbed at the +prospect of a brush with pirates. In fact, there was +something like a sparkle of anticipation in his eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +But seeing his chief so concerned, he suggested +soberly:</p> + +<p>"Can't we beat out to sea and lose them during +the night?"</p> + +<p>"Not if this is the ship I fear it is," the resident +answered gravely.</p> + +<p>"What ship?" The question was frankly curious.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear something like a muffled motor +exhaust a little while ago?"</p> + +<p>Paddy looked up in surprise. "That's just +what I thought it was, only I thought I must be +crazy, imagining such a thing here."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross sighed. "I thought so," he said with +gentle resignation. "It must be her."</p> + +<p>"Who? What?" There was no escaping the +lad's eager curiosity.</p> + +<p>"The ghost proa. She's a pirate—Ah Sing's own +ship, if reports be true. I've never seen her; few +white men have; but there are stories enough about +her, God knows. She's equipped with a big marine +engine imported from New York, I've heard; and +built like a launch, though she's got the trimmings of +a proa. She can outrun any ship, steam or sail, +this side of Hong Kong, and she's manned by a crew +of fiends that never left a man, woman or child alive +yet on any ship they've taken."</p> + +<p>Paddy's face whitened a little, and he looked +earnestly at the ship. Presently he started and +caught Peter Gross's arm.</p> + +<p>"There," he exclaimed. "The motor again! +Did you hear it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ay," Peter Gross replied. "We had gained a +few hundred yards on them, and they've made it +up."</p> + +<p>Paddy noted the furtive glances cast at them by +the crew of their own proa, mostly Bugis and Bajaus, +the sea-rovers and the sea-wash, with a slight sprinkling +of Dyaks. He called Peter Gross's attention +to it.</p> + +<p>"They know the proa," the resident said. +"They'll neither fight nor run. The fight is ours, +Paddy. You'd better get some rifles on deck."</p> + +<p>"We're going to fight?" Rouse asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Ay," Peter Gross answered soberly. "We'll +fight to the end." He placed a hand on his protégé's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have brought you here, my lad," +he said. There was anguish in his voice. "I +should have thought of this—"</p> + +<p>"I'll take my chances," Paddy interrupted gruffly, +turning away. He dove into their tiny cubicle, a +boxlike contrivance between decks, to secure rifles +and cartridges. They carried revolvers. When he +came up the sun was almost touching the rim of the +horizon. The pursuing proa, he noticed had approached +much nearer, almost within hailing distance.</p> + +<p>"They don't intend to lose us in the dark," he +remarked cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"The moon rises early to-night," Peter Gross +replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>A few minutes later, as the sun was beginning to +make its thunderclap tropic descent, the <i>juragan</i>, or +captain of the proa issued a sharp order. The +crew leaped to the ropes and began hauling in +sail. Peter Gross swung his rifle to his shoulder and +covered the navigator.</p> + +<p>"Tell your crew to keep away from those sails," +he said with deadly intentness.</p> + +<p>The <i>juragan</i> hesitated a moment, glanced over his +shoulder at the pursuing proa, and then reversed his +orders. As the crew scrambled down they found +themselves under Paddy's rifle.</p> + +<p>"Get below, every man of you," Peter Gross +barked in the <i>lingua franca</i> of the islands. "Repeat +that order, <i>juragan</i>!"</p> + +<p>The latter did so sullenly, and the crew dropped +hastily below, apparently well content at keeping +out of the impending hostilities.</p> + +<p>These happenings were plainly visible from the +deck of the pursuing proa. The sharp chug-chug +of a motor suddenly sounded, and the disguised +launch darted forward like a hawk swooping down +on a chicken. Casting aside all pretense, her +crew showed themselves above the rail. There +were at least fifty of them, mostly Chinese and +Malays, fierce, wicked-looking men, big and powerful, +some of them nearly as large, physically, as the +resident himself. They were armed with magazine +rifles and revolvers and long-bladed krisses. A +rapid-firer was mounted on the forward deck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>Paddy turned to his chief with a whimsical smile. +"Pretty big contract," he remarked with unimpaired +cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's face was white. He knew what +Paddy did not know, the fiendish tortures the pirates +inflicted on their hapless victims. He was debating +whether it were more merciful to shoot the lad and +then himself or to make a vain stand and take the +chance of being rendered helpless by a wound.</p> + +<p>The launch was only a hundred yards away now—twenty +yards. A cabin door on her aft deck opened +and Peter Gross saw the face of Ah Sing, aglow in +the dying rays of the sun with a fiendish malignancy +and satisfaction. Lifting his rifle, he took quick aim.</p> + +<p>Four things happened almost simultaneously as +his rifle cracked. One was Ah Sing staggering forward, +another was a light footfall on the deck behind +him and a terrific crash on his head that filled the +western heavens from horizon to zenith with a blaze +of glory, the third was the roaring of a revolver in +his ear and Paddy's voice trailing into the dim distance:</p> + +<p>"I got you, damn you."</p> + +<p>When he awoke he found himself in a vile, evil-smelling +hole, in utter darkness. He had a peculiar +sensation in the pit of his stomach, and his lips and +tongue were dry and brittle as cork. His head felt +the size of a barrel. He groaned unconsciously.</p> + +<p>"Waking up, governor?" a cheerful voice asked. +It was Paddy.</p> + +<p>By this time Peter Gross was aware, from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +rolling motion, that they were at sea. After a +confused moment he picked up the thread of memory +where it had been broken off.</p> + +<p>"They got us, did they?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"They sure did," Paddy chirruped, as though it +was quite a lark.</p> + +<p>"We haven't landed yet?"</p> + +<p>"We made one stop. Just a few hours, I guess, +to get some grub aboard. I can't make out much +of their lingo, but from what I've heard I believe +we're headed for one of the coast towns where we +can get a doctor. That shot of yours hit the old +bird in the shoulder; he's scared half to death he's +going to croak."</p> + +<p>"If he only does," Peter Gross prayed fervently +under his breath. He asked Paddy: "How long +have we been here?"</p> + +<p>"About fourteen hours, I'd say on a guess. We +turned back a ways, made a stop, and then headed +this way. I'm not much of a sailor, but I believe +we've kept a straight course since. At least the roll +of the launch hasn't changed any."</p> + +<p>"Fourteen hours," Peter Gross mused. "It +might be toward Coti, or it might be the other way. +Have they fed you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a blankety-blanked thing. Not even sea-water. +I'm so dry I could swallow the Mississippi."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross made no comment. "Tell me what +happened," he directed.</p> + +<p>Paddy, who was sitting cross-legged, tried to +shuffle into a more comfortable position. In doing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +so he bumped his head against the top of their +prison. "Ouch!" he exclaimed feelingly.</p> + +<p>"You're not hurt?" Peter Gross asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"A plug in the arm and a tunk on the head," +Paddy acknowledged. "The one in my arm made +me drop my rifle, but I got two of the snakes before +they got me. Then I got three more with the gat +before somebody landed me a lallapaloosa on the +beano and I took the count. One of the steersmen—<i>jurumuddis</i> +you call 'em, don't you?—got you. +We forgot about those chaps in the steersmen's box +when we ordered the crew below. But I finished +him. He's decorating a nice flat in a shark's belly by +now."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross was silent.</p> + +<p>"Wonder why they didn't chuck us overboard," +Paddy remarked after a time. "I thought that was +the polite piratical stunt. Seeing they were so +darned considerate, giving us this private apartment, +they might rustle us some grub."</p> + +<p>"How shall I tell this light-hearted lad what is +before us?" Peter Gross groaned in silent agony.</p> + +<p>A voluble chatter broke out overhead. Through +the thin flooring they heard the sound of naked feet +pattering toward the rail. A moment later the ship's +course was altered and it began pitching heavily +in the big rollers. Peter Gross sat bolt upright, +listening intently.</p> + +<p>"What's stirring now?" Paddy asked.</p> + +<p>"Hist! I don't know," Peter Gross warned +sharply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a harsh command to draw in sail, intelligible +only to Peter Gross, for it was in the island +patois. Paddy waited in breathless anticipation +while Peter Gross, every muscle strained and tense, +listened to the dissonancy above, creaking cordage, +the flapping of bamboo sails, and the jargon of +two-score excited men jabbering in their various +tongues.</p> + +<p>There was a series of light explosions, and then a +steady vibration shook the ship. It leaped ahead +instantly in response to its powerful motor. It +was hardly under way when they heard a whistling +sound overhead. There was a moment's pause, then +the dull boom of an explosion reached their ear.</p> + +<p>"We're under shell-fire!" Paddy gasped.</p> + +<p>"That must be the <i>Prins</i>," Peter Gross exclaimed. +"I hope to Heaven Enckel doesn't know we're +aboard."</p> + +<p>Another whistle of a passing shell and the thunder +of an explosion. The two were almost simultaneous, +the shell could not have fallen far from the +launch's bow, both knew.</p> + +<p>"They may sink us!" Paddy cried in a half-breath.</p> + +<p>"Better drowning than torture." The curt reply +was cut short by another shell. The explosion was +more distant.</p> + +<p>"They're losing the range." Paddy exclaimed +in a low voice. In a flash it came to him why Peter +Gross had said: "I hope Enckel doesn't know +we're here."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross stared, white, and silent into the +blackness, waiting for the next shell. It was long +in coming, and fell astern. A derisive shout rose +from the pirates.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Prins</i> is falling behind," Paddy cried despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Ay, the proa is too fast for her," the resident +assented in a scarcely audible voice. Tears were +coursing down his cheeks, tears for the lad that he +had brought here to suffer unnameable tortures, for +Peter Gross did not underestimate the fiendish +ingenuity of Ah Sing and his crew. He felt grateful +for the wall of darkness between them.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's more than one way to crawl out +of a rain-barrel," Paddy observed with unimpaired +cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross felt that he should speak and tell +Rouse what they had to expect, but the words +choked in his throat. Blissful ignorance and a +natural buoyant optimism sustained the lad, it +would be cruel to take them away, the resident +thought. He groaned again.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up," Paddy cried, "we'll get another +chance."</p> + +<p>The grotesqueness of the situation—his youthful +protégé striving to raise his flagging spirits—came +home to Peter Gross even in that moment of suffering +and brought a rueful smile to his lips.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, my lad, that the <i>Prins</i> was our last +hope," he said. There was an almost fatherly +sympathy in his voice, responsibility seemed to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +added a decade to the slight disparity of years between +them.</p> + +<p>"Rats!" Paddy grunted. "We're not going to +turn in our checks just yet, governor. This bird's +got to go ashore somewhere, and it'll be deuced +funny if Cap Carver and the little lady don't figure +out some way between 'em to get us out of this."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">In The Temple</span></h3> + + +<p>The hatch above them opened. A bestial +Chinese face, grinning cruelly, appeared in +it.</p> + +<p>"You b'g-um fellow gettee outtee here plenty +damn' quick!" the Chinaman barked. He thrust a +piece of bamboo into the hole and prodded the helpless +captives below with a savage energy. The +third thrust of the cane found Peter Gross's ribs. +With a hoarse cry of anger Paddy sprang to his feet +and shot his fist into the Chinaman's face before +the resident could cry a warning.</p> + +<p>The blow caught the pirate between the eyes and +hurled him back on the deck. He gazed at Paddy a +dazed moment and then sprang to his feet. Lifting +the cane in both his hands above his head, he uttered +a shriek of fury and would have driven the weapon +through Rouse's body had not a giant Bugi, standing +near by, jumped forward and caught his arm.</p> + +<p>Wrestling with the maddened Chinaman, the +Bugi shouted some words wholly unintelligible to +Paddy in the pirate's ear. Peter Gross scrambled +to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Jump on deck, my lad," he shouted. "Quick, +let them see you. It may save us."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>Paddy obeyed. The morning sun, about four +hours high, played through his rumpled hair, the +auburn gleaming like flame. Malays, Dyaks, and +Bugis, attracted by the noise of the struggle, crowded +round and pointed at him, muttering superstitiously.</p> + +<p>"Act like a madman," Peter Gross whispered +hoarsely to his aide.</p> + +<p>Paddy broke into a shriek of foolish laughter. He +shook as though overcome with mirth, and folded +his arms over his stomach as he rocked back and +forth. Suddenly straightening, he yelled a shrill +"Whoopee!" The next moment he executed a +handspring into the midst of the natives, almost +upsetting one of them. The circle widened. A +Chinese mate tried to interfere, but the indignant +islanders thrust him violently aside. He shouted +to the <i>juragan</i>, who ran forward, waving a pistol.</p> + +<p>Every one of the crew was similarly armed, and +every one wore a kris. They formed in a crescent +between their officer and the captives. In a twinkling +Peter Gross and Rouse found themselves encircled +by a wall of steel.</p> + +<p>The <i>juragan's</i> automatic dropped to a dead level +with the eyes of the Bugi who had saved Paddy. +He bellowed an angry command, but the Bugi +closed his eyes and lowered his head resignedly, +nodding in negation. The other islanders stood +firm. The Chinese of the crew ranged themselves +behind their captain and a bloody fight seemed +imminent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>A Dyak left the ranks and began talking volubly +to the <i>juragan</i>, gesticulating wildly and pointing +at Paddy Rouse and then at the sun. A crooning +murmur of assent arose from the native portion of +the crew. The <i>juragan</i> retorted sharply. The Dyak +broke into another volley of protestations. Paddy +looked on with a glaringly stupid smile. The <i>juragan</i> +watched him suspiciously while the Dyak +talked, but gradually his scowl faded. At last he +gave a peremptory command and stalked away. +The crew returned to their duties.</p> + +<p>"We're to be allowed to stay on deck as long as +we behave ourselves until we near shore, or unless +some trader passes us," Peter Gross said in a low +voice to Rouse. Paddy blinked to show that he +understood, and burst into shouts of foolish laughter, +hopping around on all fours. The natives respectfully +made room for him. He kept up these antics +at intervals during the day, while Peter Gross, +remaining in the shade of the cabin, watched the +pirates. After prying into every part of the vessel +with a childish curiosity that none of the crew +sought to restrain, Paddy returned to his chief and +reported in a low whisper:</p> + +<p>"The old bird isn't aboard, governor."</p> + +<p>"I rather suspected he wasn't," Peter Gross answered. +"He must have been put ashore at the +stop you spoke of."</p> + +<p>It was late that day when the proa, after running +coastwise all day, turned a quarter circle into one +of the numerous bays indenting the coast. Peter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +Gross recognized the familiar headlands crowning +Bulungan Bay. Paddy also recognized them, for he +cried:</p> + +<p>"They're bringing us back home."</p> + +<p>At that moment the tall Bugi who had been their +sponsor approached them and made signs to indicate +that they must return to the box between decks +from which he had rescued them. He tried to show +by signs and gestures his profound regret at the +necessity of locking them up again, his anxiety to +convince the "son of the Gunong Agong" was almost +ludicrous. Realizing the futility of objecting, Peter +Gross and Paddy permitted themselves to be locked +in the place once more.</p> + +<p>It was quite dark and the stars were shining +brightly when the hatch was lifted again. As they +rose from their cramped positions and tried to make +out the circle of faces about them, unceremonious +hands yanked them to the deck, thrust foul-smelling +cloths into their mouths, blindfolded them, and +trussed their hands and feet with stout cords. They +were lowered into a boat, and after a brief row were +tossed on the beach like so many sacks of wool, +placed in boxlike receptacles, and hurried inland. +Two hours' steady jogging followed, in which they +were thrown about until every inch of skin on their +bodies was raw with bruises. They were then +taken out of the boxes and the cloths and cords were +removed.</p> + +<p>Looking about, Peter Gross and Paddy found +themselves in the enclosed court of what was evi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>dently +the ruins of an ancient Hindoo temple. The +massive columns, silvery in the bright moonlight, +were covered with inscriptions and outline drawings, +crudely made in hieroglyphic art. In the center of +one wall was the chipped and weather-scarred pedestal +of a Buddha. The idol itself, headless, lay +broken in two on the floor beside it. Peter Gross's +brow puckered—the very existence of such a temple +two hours' journey distant from Bulungan Bay had +been unknown to him.</p> + +<p>The <i>juragan</i> and his Chinese left after giving +sharp instructions to their jailers, two Chinese, to +guard them well. Peter Gross and Paddy looked +about in vain for a single friendly face or even the +face of a brown-skinned man—every member of +the party was Chinese. The jailers demonstrated +their capacity by promptly thrusting their prisoners +into a dark room off the main court. It was +built of stone, like the rest of the temple.</p> + +<p>"Not much chance for digging out of here," +Rouse observed, after examining the huge stones, +literally mortised together, and the narrow window +aperture with its iron gratings. Peter Gross also +made as careful an examination of their prison as +the darkness permitted.</p> + +<p>"We may as well make ourselves comfortable," +was his only observation at the close of his investigation.</p> + +<p>They chatted a short time, and at last Paddy, +worn out by his exertions, fell asleep. Peter Gross +listened for a while to the lad's rhythmic breathing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +then tip-toed to the gratings and pulled himself +up to them. A cackle of derisive laughter arose +outside. Realizing that the place was carefully +watched, he dropped back to the floor and began +pacing the chamber, his head lowered in thought. +Presently he stopped beside Rouse and gazed into +the lad's upturned face, blissfully serene in the +innocent confidence of youth. Tears gathered in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have brought him here; I shouldn't +have brought him here," he muttered brokenly.</p> + +<p>The scraping of the ponderous bar that bolted the +door interrupted his meditations shortly after daybreak. +The door creaked rustily on its hinges, and +an ugly, leering Chinese face peered inside. Satisfying +himself that his prisoners were not planning +mischief, the Chinaman thrust two bowls of soggy +rice and a pannikin of water inside and gestured to +Peter Gross that he must eat. The indignant protest +of the door as it closed awoke Paddy, who sat +bolt upright and blinked sleepily until he saw the +food.</p> + +<p>"What? Time for breakfast?" he exclaimed with +an amiable grin. "I must have overslept."</p> + +<p>He picked up a bowl of rice, stirred it critically +with one of the chopsticks their jailers had provided, +and snuffed at the mixture. He put it down +with a wry face.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" he whistled. "It's stale."</p> + +<p>"You had better try to eat something," Peter +Gross advised.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm that hungry I could eat toasted sole leather," +Paddy confessed. "But this stuff smells to heaven."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross took the other bowl and began eating, +wielding the chopsticks expertly.</p> + +<p>"It isn't half bad—I've had worse rations on +board your uncle's ship," he encouraged.</p> + +<p>"Then my dear old avunculus ought to be hung," +Paddy declared with conviction. Hunger and his +superior's example finally overcame his scruples, +however, and presently he was eating with gusto.</p> + +<p>"Faith," he exclaimed, "I've got more appetite +than I imagined."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross did not answer. He was wondering +whether the rice was poisoned, and half hoped it +was. It would be an easier death than by torture, +he thought. But he forebore mentioning this to +Paddy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Ah Sing's Vengeance</span></h3> + + +<p>Two days, whose monotony was varied only +by occasional visits from one or another of +their jailers, passed in this way. Peter +Gross's faint hope that they might be able to +escape by overpowering the Chinamen, while the +latter brought them their meals, faded; the jailers +had evidently been particularly cautioned against +such an attempt and were on their guard.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the second day a commotion +in the fore-court of the temple, distinctly audible +through the gratings, raised their curiosity to fever +heat. They listened intently and tried to distinguish +voices and words in the hubbub, but were +unsuccessful. It was apparent, however, that a +large party had arrived. There were fully a hundred +men in it, Peter Gross guessed, possibly twice +that number.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" Paddy asked.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's face was set in hard, firm lines, and +there was an imperious note in his voice as he said:</p> + +<p>"Come here, Paddy. I have a few words to say +to you."</p> + +<p>Paddy's face lost its familiar smile as he followed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +his chief to the corner of their prison farthest from +the door.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what this means, but I rather +suspect that Ah Sing has arrived," Peter Gross +said. He strove to speak calmly, but his voice +broke. "If that is the case, we will probably part. +You will not see me again. You may escape, but +it is doubtful. If you see the slightest chance to get +away, take it. Being shot or krissed is a quicker +death than by torture."</p> + +<p>In spite of his effort at self-control, Paddy's face +blanched.</p> + +<p>"By torture?" he asked in a low voice of amazement.</p> + +<p>"That is what we may expect," Peter Gross +declared curtly.</p> + +<p>Paddy breathed hard a moment. Then he laid +an impulsive hand on his leader's arm.</p> + +<p>"Let's rush 'em the minute the door opens, Mr. +Gross."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross shook his head in negation. "While +there is life there is hope," he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>Paddy did not perceive that his chief was offering +himself in the hope that his death might appease the +pirate's craving for vengeance.</p> + +<p>They strolled about, their hearts too full for +speech. Presently Paddy lifted his head alertly +and signaled for silence. He was standing near the +window and raised himself on tiptoe to catch the +sounds coming through. Peter Gross walked softly +toward him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard a white man speaking just +now," Paddy whispered. "It sounded like Van +Slyck's voice—Hist!"</p> + +<p>A low murmur of ironic laughter came through +the gratings. Peter Gross's face became black with +anger. There was no doubting who it was that had +laughed.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later they heard the scraping of +the heavy bar as it was lifted out of its socket, then +the door opened. Several armed Chinamen, giants +of their race, sprang inside. Ah Sing entered behind +them, pointed at Peter Gross, and issued a +harsh, guttural command.</p> + +<p>The resident walked forward and passively submitted +to the rough hands placed upon him. Paddy +tried to follow, but two of the guards thrust him +back so roughly that he fell. Furious with anger, +he leaped to his feet and sprang at one of them, but +the Chinaman caught him, doubled his arm with a +jiu-jitsu trick, and then threw him down again. +The other prodded him with a spear. Inwardly +raging, Paddy lay motionless until the guards tired +of their sport and left him.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Peter Gross was half led, half +dragged through the fore-court of the temple into +another chamber. Those behind him prodded +him with spear-points, those in front spit in his +face. He stumbled, and as he regained his balance +four barbs entered his back and legs, but his teeth +were grimly set and he made no sound. Although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +he gazed about for Van Slyck, he saw no signs of +him; the captain had unquestionably deemed it best +to keep out of sight.</p> + +<p>In the chamber, at Ah Sing's command, they +bound him securely hand and foot, with thongs of +crocodile hide. Then the guards filed out and left +the pirate chief alone with his prisoner.</p> + +<p>As the doors closed on them Ah Sing walked +slowly toward the resident, who was lying on his +back on the tessellated pavement. Peter Gross +looked back calmly into the eyes that were fixed so +gloatingly upon him. In them he read no sign of +mercy. They shone with a savage exultation and +fiendish cruelty. Ah Sing sighed a sigh of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Why you don't speak, Mynheer Gross?" he +asked, mimicking Van Schouten's raspy voice.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross made no reply, but continued staring +tranquilly into the face of his arch-enemy.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe you comee Ah Sing's house for two-three +men?" the pirate chief suggested with a wicked +grin.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe you show Ah Sing one damn' fine ring +Mauritius?" the pirate chief mocked.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross did not flick an eyelash. A spasm +of passion flashed over Ah Sing's face, and he +kicked the resident violently.</p> + +<p>"Speakee, Chlistian dog," he snarled.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's lips twitched with pain, but he did +not utter a sound.</p> + +<p>"I teachum you speakee Ah Sing," the pirate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +declared grimly. Whipping a dagger from his girdle, +he thrust it between Peter Gross's fourth and fifth +ribs next to his heart. The point entered the skin, +but Peter Gross made no sound. It penetrated a +quarter-inch.</p> + +<p>Ah Sing, smiling evilly, searched the face of his +victim for an expression of fear or pain. Three-eighths +of an inch, half an inch—Peter Gross suddenly +lunged forward. An involuntary contraction +of his facial muscles betrayed him, and the Chinaman +pulled the dagger away before the resident +could impale himself upon it. He stepped back, +and a look of admiration came upon his face—it +was the tribute of one strong man to another.</p> + +<p>"Peter him muchee likee go <i>sangjang</i> (hades)," +he observed. "Ah Sing sendee him to-mollow, +piecee, piecee, plenty much talkee then." The +pirate indicated with strokes of his dagger that he +would cut off Peter Gross's toes, fingers, ears, nose, +arms, and legs piecemeal at the torture. Giving +his victim another violent kick, he turned and +passed through the door. A few minutes later a +native physician came in with two armed guards +and staunched the flow of blood, applying bandages +with dressings of herbs to subdue inflammation.</p> + +<p>Night settled soon after. The darkness in the +chamber was abysmal. Peter Gross lay on one +side and stared into the blackness, waiting for the +morning, the morning Ah Sing promised to make his +last. Rats scurried about the floor and stopped to +sniff suspiciously at him. At times he wished they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +were numerous enough to attack him. He knew +full well the savage ingenuity of the wretches into +whose hands he had fallen for devising tortures +unspeakable, unendurable.</p> + +<p>Dawn came at last. The first rays of the sun +peeping through the gratings found him asleep. +Exhausted nature had demanded her toll, and even +the horror of his situation had failed to banish +slumber from his heavy lids. As the sun rose and +gained strength the temperature sensibly increased, +but Peter Gross slept on.</p> + +<p>He awoke naturally. Stretching himself to ease +his stiffened limbs, he felt a sharp twitch of pain +that brought instant remembrance. He struggled +to a sitting posture. The position of the sun's rays +on the wall indicated that the morning was well +advanced.</p> + +<p>He listened for the camp sounds, wondering why +his captors had not appeared for him before now. +There was no sound outside except the soughing of +the wind through the jungle and the lackadaisical +chatter of the pargams and lories.</p> + +<p>"Strange!" he muttered to himself. "It can't +be that they've left."</p> + +<p>His shoulders were aching frightfully, and he +tugged at his bonds to get his hands free, but they +were too firmly bound to be released by his unaided +efforts. His clothing, he noticed, was almost +drenched, the heavy night dew had clustered thickly +upon it. So does man cling to the minor comforts +even in his extremity that he labored to bring him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>self +within the narrow park of the sun's rays to dry +his clothing.</p> + +<p>He was still enjoying his sun-bath when he heard +the bar that fastened the door of his chamber lifted +from its sockets. His lips closed firmly. A half-uttered +prayer, "God give me strength," floated +upward, then the door opened. An armed guard, +one of his jailers for the past two days, peered +inside.</p> + +<p>Seeing his prisoner firmly bound, he ventured +within with the customary bowl of rice and pannikin +of water. A slash of his kris cut the thongs binding +Peter Gross's hands, then the jailer backed to the +door while the resident slowly and dazedly unwound +the thongs that had bound him.</p> + +<p>Expecting nothing else than that he would be led +to the torture, persuaded that the door would be +opened for no other purpose, Peter Gross could not +comprehend for a few moments what had happened. +Then he realized that a few hours of additional +grace had been vouchsafed him, and that Ah +Sing and his crew must have left.</p> + +<p>He wondered why food was offered him. In the +imminent expectancy of death, the very thought of +eating had nauseated him the moment before. Yet +to have this shadow removed, if only for a few hours, +brought him an appetite. He ate with relish, the +guard watching him in the meantime with cat-like +intentness and holding his spear in instant readiness. +As soon as the resident had finished he bore the +dishes away, barring the door carefully again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Rescue</span></h3> + + +<p>Released from his bonds, for the jailer had +not replaced these, Peter Gross spent the +hours in comparative comfort. He amused +himself in examining every inch of the cell in the +faint hope that he might find a weak spot, and in +meditating other plans of escape. Although missing +Paddy's ready smile and readier chaff greatly, he +did not worry about the lad, for since he was safe +himself he reasoned that his subordinate must be.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon, while he was pacing his +cell, the sharp crack of a rifle suddenly broke the +forest stillness. Holding himself tense and rigid +with every fiber thrilling at the thought of rescue, +he listened for the repetition of the shot. It came +quickly, mingled with a blood-curdling yell from a +hundred or more savage throats. There were other +scattered shots.</p> + +<p>His finger-nails bit into his palms, and his heart +seemed to stand still. Had Carver found him? +Were these Dyaks friends or enemies? The next +few moments seemed that many eternities; then +he heard a ringing American shout:</p> + +<p>"We've got 'em all, boys; come on!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross leaped to the grating. "Here, Carver, +here!" he shouted at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>"Coming!" twenty or more voices shouted in a +scattered chorus. There was a rush of feet, leather-shod +feet, across the fore-court pavement. The +heavy bar was lifted. Striving to remain calm, +although his heart beat tumultuously, Peter Gross +waited in the center of the chamber until the door +opened and Carver sprang within.</p> + +<p>The captain blinked to accustom himself to the +light. Peter Gross stepped forward and their +hands clasped.</p> + +<p>"In time, Mr. Gross, thank God!" Carver exclaimed. +"Where's Paddy?"</p> + +<p>"In the other chamber; I'll show you," Peter +Gross answered. He sprang out of his cell like a +colt from the barrier and led the way on the double-quick +to the cell that had housed him and Paddy for +two days. Carver and he lifted the bar together +and forced the door. The cell was empty.</p> + +<p>It took a full minute for the resident to comprehend +this fact. He stared dazedly at every inch of +the floor and wall, exploring bare corners with an +eager eye, as though Paddy might be hiding in some +nook or cranny. But the tenantless condition of the +chamber was indisputable.</p> + +<p>A half-sob broke in Peter Gross's throat. It was +the first emotion he had given way to.</p> + +<p>"They've taken him away," he said in a low, +strained voice.</p> + +<p>"Search the temple!" Carver shouted in a sten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>torian +voice to several of his command. "Get Jahi +to help; he probably knows this place."</p> + +<p>"Jahi's here?" Peter Gross exclaimed incredulously.</p> + +<p>"He and a hundred hillmen," Carver replied +crisply. "Now to comb this pile."</p> + +<p>The tribesmen scattered to search the ruin. It +was not extensive. In the meantime Peter Gross +briefly sketched the happenings of the past few +days to Carver. At the mention of Van Slyck the +captain's face became livid.</p> + +<p>"The damn' skunk said he was going to Padang," +he exclaimed. "He left Banning in charge. I +hope to God he stays away."</p> + +<p>One of Jahi's hillmen reported that no trace of +Rouse could be found. "Him no here; him in +bush," he said.</p> + +<p>"The Chinks have gone back to their proas; the +trail heads that way," Carver said. "Some of +Jahi's boys picked it up before we found you. But +what the deuce do they want with Rouse, if they +haven't killed him?"</p> + +<p>"He's alive," Peter Gross declared confidently, +although his own heart was heavy with misgiving. +"We've got to rescue him."</p> + +<p>"They've got at least five hours the start of us," +Carver remarked. "How far are we from the seacoast?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's reply was as militarily curt as the +captain's question.</p> + +<p>"About two hours' march."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They're probably at sea. We'll take a chance, +though." He glanced upward at the sound of a +footfall. "Ah, here's Jahi."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross turned to the chieftain who had so +promptly lived up to his oath of brotherhood. Warm +with gratitude, he longed to crush the Dyak's +hand within his own, but restrained himself, knowing +how the Borneans despised display of emotion. +Instead he greeted the chief formally, rubbing noses +according to the custom of the country.</p> + +<p>No word of thanks crossed his lips, for he realized +that Jahi would be offended if he spoke. Such a +service was due from brother to brother, according +to the Dyak code.</p> + +<p>"Rajah, can we catch those China boys before they +reach their proas?" Carver asked.</p> + +<p>"No can catch," Jahi replied.</p> + +<p>"Can we catch them before they sail?"</p> + +<p>"No can say."</p> + +<p>"How far is it?"</p> + +<p>They were standing near a lone column of stone +that threw a short shadow toward them. Jahi +touched the pavement with his spear at a point +about six inches beyond the end of the shadow.</p> + +<p>"When there shall have reached by so far the +finger of the sun," he declared.</p> + +<p>Both Carver and Peter Gross understood that he +was designating how much longer the shadow must +grow.</p> + +<p>"About two hours, as you said," Carver remarked +to his chief. "We'd better start at once."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jahi bowed to indicate that he had understood. +He took some soiled sheets of China rice paper from +his chawat.</p> + +<p>"Here are skins that talk, <i>mynheer kapitein</i>," he +said respectfully. "Dyak boy find him in China +boy kampong."</p> + +<p>Carver thrust them into his pocket without looking +at them and blew his whistle. A few minutes +later they began the march to the sea.</p> + +<p>While they were speeding through a leafy tunnel +with Jahi's Dyaks covering the front and rear to +guard against surprise, Carver found opportunity +to explain to Peter Gross how he had been able to +make the rescue. Koyala had learned Ah Sing's +plans from a native source and had hastened to +Jahi, who was watching the borders of his range to +guard against a surprise attack by Lkath. Jahi, +on Koyala's advice, had made a forced march to +within ten miles of Bulungan, where Carver, summoned +by Koyala, had joined him. Starting at +midnight, they had made an eight-hour march to +the temple.</p> + +<p>"Koyala again," Peter Gross remarked. "She +has been our good angel all the way."</p> + +<p>Carver was silent. The resident looked at him +curiously.</p> + +<p>"I am surprised that you believed her so readily," +he said. They jogged along some distance before +the captain replied.</p> + +<p>"I believed her. But I don't believe in her," he +said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Something's happened since to cause you to lose +confidence in her?" Peter Gross asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"No, nothing specific. Only Muller and his <i>controlleurs</i> +are having the devil's own time getting the +census. Many of the chiefs won't even let them +enter their villages. Somebody has been stirring +them up. And there have been raids—"</p> + +<p>"So you assume it's Koyala?" Peter Gross demanded +harshly.</p> + +<p>Carver evaded a reply. "I got a report that the +priests are preaching a holy war among the Malay +and Dyak Mohammedans."</p> + +<p>"That is bad, bad," Peter Gross observed, frowning +thoughtfully. "We must find out who is at the +bottom of this."</p> + +<p>"The Argus Pheasant isn't flying around the +country for nothing," Carver suggested, but stopped +abruptly as he saw the flash of anger that crossed +his superior's face.</p> + +<p>"Every success we have had is due to her," +Peter Gross asserted sharply. "She saved my life +three times."</p> + +<p>Carver hazarded one more effort.</p> + +<p>"Granted. For some reason we don't know she +thinks it's to her interest to keep you alive—for the +present. But she has an object. I can't make it +out yet, but I'm going to—" The captain's lips +closed resolutely.</p> + +<p>"You condemned her before you saw her because +she has Dyak blood," Peter Gross accused. "It +isn't fair."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'd like her a lot more if she wasn't so confounded +friendly," Carver replied dryly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross did not answer, and by tacit consent +the subject was dropped.</p> + +<p>Captain Carver was looking at his watch—the +two hours were more than up—when Jahi, who had +been in the van, stole back and lifted his hand in +signal for silence.</p> + +<p>"<i>Orang blanda</i> here stay, Dyak boy smell kampong," +he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Fight on the Beach</span></h3> + + +<p>Carver gave a low-voiced command to halt, +and enjoined his men to see to their weapons. +As he ran his eyes over his company and +saw their dogged jaws and alert, watchful faces, +devoid of any trace of nervousness and excitability, +his face lit with a quiet satisfaction. These men +would fight—they were veterans who knew how to +fight, and they had a motive; Paddy was a universal +favorite.</p> + +<p>A Dyak plunged through the bush toward Jahi +and jabbered excitedly. Jahi cried:</p> + +<p>"China boy, him go proa, three-four sampan."</p> + +<p>"Lead the way," Carver cried. Peter Gross +translated.</p> + +<p>"Double time," the captain shouted, as Jahi and +his tribesmen plunged through the bush at a pace +too swift for even Peter Gross.</p> + +<p>In less than three minutes they reached the edge +of the jungle, back about fifty yards from the coral +beach. Four hundred yards from shore a proa was +being loaded from several large sampans. Some +distance out to sea, near the horizon, was another +proa.</p> + +<p>A sharp command from Carver kept his men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +from rushing out on the beach in their ardor. +In a moment or two every rifle in the company was +covering the sampans. But there were sharp eyes +and ears on board the proa as well as on shore, and a +cry of alarm was given from the deck. The Chinese +in the sampans leaped upward. At the same +moment Carver gave the command to fire.</p> + +<p>Fully twenty Chinamen on the two sampans +floating on the leeward side of the proa made the +leap to her deck, and of these eleven fell back, so +deadly was the fire. Only two of them dropped into +the boats, the others falling into the sea. Equipped +with the latest type of magazine rifle, Carver's +irregulars continued pumping lead into the proa. +Several Chinamen thrust rifles over the rail and +attempted a reply, but when one dropped back with +a bullet through his forehead and another with a +creased skull, they desisted and took refuge behind +the ship's steel-jacketed rail. Perceiving that the +proa was armored against rifle-fire, Carver ordered +all but six of his command to cease firing, the six +making things sufficiently hot to keep the pirates +from replying.</p> + +<p>The sampans were sinking. Built of skins placed +around a bamboo frame, they had been badly cut by +the first discharge. As one of them lowered to the +gunwale, those on shore could see a wounded Chinaman, +scarce able to crawl, beg his companions to +throw him a rope. A coil of hemp shot over the +deck of the vessel. The pirate reached for it, but +at that moment the sampan went down and left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +him swirling in the water. A dorsal fin cut the +surface close by, there was a little flurry, and the +pirate disappeared.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross made his way through the bush toward +Carver. The latter was watching the proa with an +anxious frown.</p> + +<p>"They've got a steel jacket on her," he declared +in answer to the resident's question. "So long as +they don't show themselves we can't touch them. +We couldn't go out to them in sampans if we had +them; they'd sink us."</p> + +<p>"Concentrate your fire on the water-line," Peter +Gross suggested. "The armor doesn't probably +reach very low, and some of these proas are poorly +built."</p> + +<p>"A good idea!" Carver bellowed the order.</p> + +<p>The fire was concentrated at the stern, where the +ship rode highest. That those on board became +instantly aware of the maneuver was evident from +the fact that a pirate, hideously attired with a belt +of human hands, leaned over the bow to slash at +the hempen cable with his kris. He gave two cuts +when he straightened spasmodically and tumbled +headlong into the sea. He did not appear above +the surface again.</p> + +<p>"<i>Een</i>," John Vander Esse, a member of the crew, +murmured happily, refilling his magazine. "Now +for <i>nummer twee</i>." (Number two.)</p> + +<p>But the kris had been whetted to a keen edge. +A gust of wind filled the proa's cumbersome triangular +sail and drove her forward. The weakened cable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +snapped. The ship lunged and half rolled into the +trough of the waves; then the steersmen, sheltered +in their box, gained control and swung it about.</p> + +<p>"Gif heem all you got," Anderson, a big Scandinavian +and particularly fond of Rouse, yelled. +The concentrated fire of the twenty-five rifles, emptied, +refilled, and emptied as fast as human hands +could perform these operations, centered on the +stern of the ship. Even sturdy teak could not resist +that battering. The proa had not gone a hundred +yards before it was seen that the stern was settling. +Suddenly it came about and headed for the shore.</p> + +<p>There was a shrill yell from Jahi's Dyaks. Carver +shouted a hoarse order to Jahi, who dashed away +with his hillmen to the point where the ship was +about to ground. The rifle-fire kept on undiminished +while Carver led his men in short dashes +along the edge of the bush to the same spot. The +proa was nearing the beach when a white flag was +hoisted on her deck. Carver instantly gave the +order to cease firing, but kept his men hidden. The +proa lunged on. A hundred feet from the shore it +struck on a shelf of coral. The sound of tearing +planking was distinctly audible above the roar of +the waves. The water about the ship seemed to be +fairly alive with fins.</p> + +<p>"We will accept their surrender," Peter Gross +said to Carver. "I shall tell them to send a boat +ashore." He stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"Don't expose yourself, Mr. Gross," Carver cried +anxiously. Peter Gross stepped into the shelter of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +a cocoanut-palm and shouted the Malay for "Ahoy."</p> + +<p>A Chinaman appeared at the bow. His dress and +trappings showed that he was a <i>juragan</i>.</p> + +<p>"Lower a boat and come ashore. But leave your +guns behind," Peter Gross ordered.</p> + +<p>The <i>juragan</i> cried that there was no boat aboard. +Peter Gross conferred with Jahi who had hastened +toward them to find out what the conference meant. +When the resident told him that there was to be no +more killing, his disappointment was evident.</p> + +<p>"They have killed my people without mercy," +he objected. "They will cut my brother's throat +to-morrow and hang his skull in their lodges."</p> + +<p>It was necessary to use diplomacy to avoid mortally +offending his ally, the resident saw.</p> + +<p>"It was not the white man's way to kill when the +fight is over," he said. "Moreover, we will hold +them as hostages for our son, whom Djath has +blessed."</p> + +<p>Jahi nodded dubiously. "My brother's word is +good," he said. "There is a creek near by. Maybe +my boys find him sampan."</p> + +<p>"Go, my brother," Peter Gross directed. "Come +back as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>Jahi vanished into the bush. A half-hour later +Peter Gross made out a small sampan, paddled by +two Dyaks, approaching from the south. That +the Dyaks were none too confident was apparent +from the anxious glances that they shot at the proa, +which was already beginning to show signs of breaking +up.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peter Gross shouted again to the <i>juragan</i>, and +instructed him that every man leaving the proa +must stand on the rail, in full sight of those on shore, +and show that he was weaponless before descending +into the sampan. The <i>juragan</i> consented.</p> + +<p>It required five trips to the doomed ship before +all on board were taken off. There were thirty-seven +in all—eleven sailors and the rest off-scourings +of the Java and Celebes seas, whose only vocation +was cutting throats. They glared at their captors +like tigers; it was more than evident that practically +all of them except the <i>juragan</i> fully expected to meet +the same fate that they meted out to every one who +fell into their hands, and were prepared to sell their +lives as dearly as possible.</p> + +<p>"A nasty crew," Carver remarked to Peter Gross +as the pirates were herded on the beach under the +rifles of his company. "Every man's expecting to +be handed the same dose as he's handed some poor +devil. I wonder why they didn't sink with their +ship?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross did not stop to explain, although he +knew the reason why—the Mohammedan's horror +of having his corpse pass into the belly of a shark.</p> + +<p>"We've got to tie them up and make a chain-gang +of them," Carver said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't +dare go through the jungle with that crew any other +way."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross was looking at Jahi, in earnest conversation +with several of his tribesmen. He perceived +that the hill chief had all he could do to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +restrain his people from falling on the pirates, long +their oppressors.</p> + +<p>"I will speak to them," he announced quietly. +He stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"Servants of Ah Sing," he shouted in an authoritative +tone. All eyes were instantly focused on him.</p> + +<p>"Servants of Ah Sing," he repeated, "the fortunes +of war have this day made you my captives. +You must go with me to Bulungan. If you will +not go, you shall die here."</p> + +<p>A simultaneous movement affected the pirates. +They clustered more closely together, fiercely +defiant, and stared with the fatalistic indifference +of Oriental peoples into the barrels of the rifles +aimed at them.</p> + +<p>"You've all heard of me," Peter Gross resumed. +"You know that the voice of Peter Gross speaks +truth, that lies do not come from his mouth." He +glanced at a Chinaman on the outskirts of the +crowd. "Speak, Wong Ling Lo, you sailed with +me on the <i>Daisy Deane</i>, is it not so?"</p> + +<p>Wong Ling Lo was now the center of attention. +Each of the pirates awaited his reply with +breathless expectancy. Peter Gross's calm assurance, +his candor and simplicity, were already stirring +in them a hope that in other moments they would +have deemed utterly fantastic, contrary to all +nature—a hope that this white man might be different +from other men, might possess that attribute +so utterly incomprehensible to their dark minds—mercy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Peter Gross, him no lie," was Wong Ling Lo's +unemotional admission.</p> + +<p>"You have heard what Wong Ling Lo says," +Peter Gross cried. "Now, listen to what I say. +You shall go back with me to Bulungan; alive, if +you are willing; dead, if you are not. At Bulungan +each one of you shall have a fair trial. Every man +who can prove that his hand has not taken life +shall be sentenced to three years on the coffee-plantations +for his robberies, then he shall be set free +and provided with a farm of his own to till so that +he may redeem himself. Every man who has +taken human life in the service of Ah Sing shall die."</p> + +<p>He paused to see the effect of his announcement. +The owlish faces turned toward him were wholly +enigmatic, but the intensity of each man's gaze +revealed to Peter Gross the measure of their interest.</p> + +<p>"I cannot take you along the trail without binding +you," he said. "Your oaths are worthless; I +must use the power I have over you. Therefore +you will now remember the promise I have made you, +and submit yourselves to be bound. <i>Juragan</i>, you +are the first."</p> + +<p>As one of Carver's force came forward with cords +salvaged from the proa, the <i>juragan</i> met him, placed +his hands behind his back, and suffered them to be +tied together. The next man hesitated, then submitted +also, casting anxious glances at his companions. +The third submitted promptly. The +fourth folded his hands across his chest.</p> + +<p>"I remain here," he announced.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very well," Peter Gross said impassively. He +forced several Chinamen who were near to move +back. They gave ground sullenly. At Carver's +orders a firing-squad of three men stood in front of +the Chinaman, whose back was toward the bay.</p> + +<p>"Will you go with us?" Peter Gross asked again.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman's face was a ghostly gray, but very +firm.</p> + +<p>"Allah wills I stay here," he replied. His lips +curled with a calm contemptuousness at the white +man's inability to rob him of the place in heaven +that he believed his murders had made for him. +With that smile on his lips he died.</p> + +<p>A sudden silence came upon the crowd. Even +Jahi's Dyaks, scarcely restrained by their powerful +chief before this, ceased their mutterings and looked +with new respect on the big <i>orang blanda</i> resident. +There were no more refusals among the Chinese. +On instructions from Peter Gross four of them were +left unbound to carry the body of their dead comrade +to Bulungan. "Alive or dead," he had said. +So it would be all understood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>"<span class="smcap">To Half of My Kingdom—</span>"</h3> + + +<p>Captain Carver selected a cigar from +Peter Gross's humidor and reclined in the +most comfortable chair in the room.</p> + +<p>"A beastly hot day," he announced, wiping the +perspiration from his forehead. "Regular Manila +weather."</p> + +<p>"The monsoon failed us again to-day," Peter +Gross observed.</p> + +<p>Carver dropped the topic abruptly. "I dropped +over," he announced, "to see if the <i>juragan</i> talked +any."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross glanced out of the window toward +the jungle-crowned hills. The lines of his mouth +were very firm.</p> + +<p>"He told me a great deal," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"About Paddy?" There was an anxious ring in +Carver's voice.</p> + +<p>"About Paddy—and other things."</p> + +<p>"The lad's come to no harm?"</p> + +<p>"He is aboard Ah Sing's proa, the proa we saw +standing out to sea when we reached the beach. +He is safe—for the present at least. He will be useful +to Ah Sing, the natives reverence him so highly."</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" Carver ejaculated in a relieved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +voice. "We'll get him back. It may take time, +but we'll get him."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross made no reply. He was staring steadfastly +at the hills again.</p> + +<p>"Odd he didn't take you, too," Carver remarked.</p> + +<p>"The <i>juragan</i> told me that he intended to come +back with a portion of his crew for me later," Peter +Gross said. "They ran short of provisions, so +they had to go back to the proas, and they took +Paddy with them. Some one warned them you +were on the march with Jahi, so they fled. Tsang +Che, the <i>juragan</i>, says his crew was slow in taking +on fresh water; that is how we were able to surprise +him."</p> + +<p>"That explains it," Carver remarked. "I couldn't +account for their leaving you behind."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross lapsed into silence again.</p> + +<p>"Did you get anything else from him, any real +evidence?" Carver suggested presently.</p> + +<p>The resident roused himself with an effort.</p> + +<p>"A great deal. Even more than I like to believe."</p> + +<p>"He turned state's evidence?"</p> + +<p>"You might call it that."</p> + +<p>"You got enough to clear up this mess?"</p> + +<p>"No," Peter Gross replied slowly. "I would not +say that. What he told me deals largely with past +events, things that happened before I came here. It +is the present with which we have to deal."</p> + +<p>"I'm a little curious," Carver confessed.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross passed his hand over his eyes and +leaned back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He told me what I have always believed. Of +the confederation of pirates with Ah Sing at their +head; of the agreements they have formed with +those in authority; of where the ships have gone +that have been reported missing from time to time +and what became of their cargoes; of how my predecessor +died. He made a very full and complete +statement. I have it here, written in Dutch, and +signed by him." Peter Gross tapped a drawer in +his desk.</p> + +<p>"It compromises Van Slyck?"</p> + +<p>"He is a murderer."</p> + +<p>"Of de Jonge—your predecessor?"</p> + +<p>"It was his brain that planned."</p> + +<p>"Muller?"</p> + +<p>"A slaver and embezzler."</p> + +<p>"You're going to arrest them?" Carver scanned +his superior's face eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," Peter Gross dissented quietly. "We +have only the word of a pirate so far. And it covers +many things that happened before we came here."</p> + +<p>"We're waiting too long," Carver asserted dubiously. +"We've been lucky so far; but luck will +turn."</p> + +<p>"We are getting the situation in hand better +every day. They will strike soon, their patience is +ebbing fast; and we will have the <i>Prins</i> with us in a +week."</p> + +<p>"The blow may fall before then."</p> + +<p>"We must be prepared. It would be folly for us +to strike now. We have no proof except this con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>fession, +and Van Slyck has powerful friends at +home."</p> + +<p>"That reminds me," Carver exclaimed. "Maybe +these documents will interest you. They are the +papers Jahi found on your jailers. They seem to be +a set of accounts, but they're Dutch to me." He +offered the papers to Peter Gross, who unfolded +them and began to read.</p> + +<p>"Are they worth anything?" Carver asked presently, +as the resident carefully filed them in the +same drawer in which he had placed Tsang Che's +statement.</p> + +<p>"They are Ah Sing's memoranda. They tell of +the disposition of several cargoes of ships that have +been reported lost recently. There are no names +but symbols. It may prove valuable some day."</p> + +<p>"What are your plans?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I must talk with Koyala before +I decide. She is coming this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross glanced out of doors at that moment +and his face brightened. "Here she comes now," he +said.</p> + +<p>Carver rose. "I think I'll be going," he declared +gruffly.</p> + +<p>"Stay, captain, by all means."</p> + +<p>Carver shook his head. He was frowning and he +cast an anxious glance at the resident.</p> + +<p>"No; I don't trust her. I'd be in the way, anyway." +He glanced swiftly at the resident to see the +effect of his words. Peter Gross was looking down +the lane along which Koyala was approaching. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +necklace of flowers encircled her throat and bracelets +of blossoms hung on her arms—gardenia, +tuberose, hill daisies, and the scarlet bloom of the +flame-of-the-forest tree. Her hat was of woven +nipa palm-leaves, intricately fashioned together. +Altogether she was a most alluring picture.</p> + +<p>When Peter Gross looked up Carver was gone. +Koyala entered with the familiarity of an intimate +friend.</p> + +<p>"What is this I hear?" Peter Gross asked with +mock severity. "You have been saving me from +my enemies again."</p> + +<p>Koyala's smile was neither assent nor denial.</p> + +<p>"This is getting to be a really serious situation +for me," he chaffed. "I am finding myself more +hopelessly in your debt every day."</p> + +<p>Koyala glanced at him swiftly, searchingly. His +frankly ingenuous, almost boyish smile evoked a +whimsical response from her.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do when I present my +claim?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross spread out his palms in mock dismay. +"Go into bankruptcy," he replied. "It's the only +thing left for me to do."</p> + +<p>"My bill will stagger you," she warned.</p> + +<p>"You know the Persian's answer, 'All that I +have to the half of my kingdom,'" he jested.</p> + +<p>"I might ask more," Koyala ventured daringly.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's face sobered. Koyala saw that, +for some reason, her reply did not please him. A +strange light glowed momentarily in her eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +Instantly controlling herself, she said in carefully +modulated tones:</p> + +<p>"You sent for me, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I did," Peter Gross admitted. "I must ask +another favor of you, Koyala." The mirth was gone +from his voice also.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"You know whom we have lost," Peter Gross said, +plunging directly into the subject. "Ah Sing carried +him away. His uncle, the boy's only living +relative, is an old sea captain under whom I served +for some time and a very dear friend. I promised +him I would care for the lad. I must bring the +boy back. You alone can help me."</p> + +<p>The burning intensity of Koyala's eyes moved +even Peter Gross, unskilled as he was in the art of +reading a woman's heart through her eyes. He felt +vaguely uncomfortable, vaguely felt a peril he could +not see or understand.</p> + +<p>"What will be my reward if I bring him back to +you?" Koyala asked. Her tone was almost flippant.</p> + +<p>"You shall have whatever lies in my power as +resident to give," Peter Gross promised gravely.</p> + +<p>Koyala laughed. There was a strange, jarring +note in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I accept your offer, Mynheer Resident," she +said. "But you should not have added those two +words, 'as resident.'"</p> + +<p>Rising like a startled pheasant, she glided out of +the door and across the plain. Peter Gross stared +after her until she had disappeared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Woman Scorned</span></h3> + + +<p>It was Inchi who brought the news of Paddy's +return. Three days after Koyala's departure +the little Dyak lad burst breathlessly upon +a colloquy between Peter Gross and Captain Carver +and announced excitedly:</p> + +<p>"Him, Djath boy, him, <i>orang blanda</i> Djath boy, +him come."</p> + +<p>"What the devil is he driving at?" Carver growled. +The circumlocution of the south-sea islander was a +perennial mystery to him.</p> + +<p>"Paddy is coming," Peter Gross cried. "Now +get your breath, Inchi, and tell us where he is."</p> + +<p>His scant vocabulary exhausted, Inchi broke into +a torrent of Dyak. By requiring the lad to repeat +several times, Peter Gross finally understood his +message.</p> + +<p>"Paddy, Koyala, and some of Koyala's Dyaks +are coming along the mountain trail," he announced. +"They will be here in an hour. She sent a runner +ahead to let us know, but the runner twisted an +ankle. Inchi found him and got the message."</p> + +<p>There was a wild cheer as Paddy, dusty and matted +with perspiration, several Dyaks, and Koyala emerged +from the banyan-grove and crossed the plain. Dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>cipline +was forgotten as the entire command crowded +around the lad.</p> + +<p>"I shot two Chinamans for you," Vander Esse +announced. "An' now daat vas all unnecessary."</p> + +<p>"Ye can't keep a rid-head bottled up," Larry +Malone, another member of the company, shouted +exultingly.</p> + +<p>"Aye ban tank we joost get it nice quiet van you +come back again," Anderson remarked in mock +melancholy. The others hooted him down.</p> + +<p>Koyala stood apart from the crowd with her +Dyaks and looked on. Glancing upward, Peter +Gross noticed her, noticed, too, the childishly wistful +look upon her face. He instantly guessed the reason—she +felt herself apart from these people of his, +unable to share their intimacy. Remorse smote +him. She, to whom all their success was due, and +who now rendered this crowning service, deserved +better treatment. He hastened toward her.</p> + +<p>"Koyala," he said, his voice vibrant with the +gratitude he felt, "how can we repay you?"</p> + +<p>Koyala made a weary gesture of dissent.</p> + +<p>"Let us not speak of that now, <i>mynheer</i>," she said.</p> + +<p>"But come to my home," he said. "We must +have luncheon together—you and Captain Carver +and Paddy and I." With a quick afterthought he +added: "I will invite Mynheer Muller also."</p> + +<p>The momentary gleam of pleasure that had lit +Koyala's face at the invitation died at the mention +of Muller's name.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she said, but there was no regret in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +her voice. "I must go back to my people, to Djath's +temple and the priests. It is a long journey; I +must start at once."</p> + +<p>"You cannot leave us now!" Peter Gross exclaimed +in consternation.</p> + +<p>"For the present I must," she said resignedly. +"Perhaps when the moon is once more in the full, +I shall come back to see what you have done."</p> + +<p>"But we cannot do without you!"</p> + +<p>"Is a woman so necessary?" she asked, and smiled +sadly.</p> + +<p>"You are necessary to Bulungan's peace," Peter +Gross affirmed. "Without you we can have no +peace."</p> + +<p>"If you need me, send one of my people," she +said. "I will leave him here with you. He will +know where to find me."</p> + +<p>"But that may be too late," Peter Gross objected. +His tone became very grave. "The crisis is almost +upon us," he declared. "Ah Sing will make the +supreme test soon—how soon I cannot say—but I +do not think he will let very many days pass by. +He is not accustomed to being thwarted. I shall +need you here at my right hand to advise me."</p> + +<p>Koyala looked at him searchingly. The earnestness +of his plea, the troubled look in his straight-forward, +gray eyes fixed so pleadingly upon her, +seemed to impress her.</p> + +<p>"There is a little arbor in the banyan-grove +yonder where we can talk undisturbed," she said +in a voice of quiet authority. "Come with me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We can use my office," Peter Gross offered, but +Koyala shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I must be on my journey. I will see you in the +grove."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross walked beside her. He found difficulty +in keeping the pace she set; she glided along +like a winged thing. Koyala led him directly to the +clearing and reclined with a sigh of utter weariness +in the shade of a stunted nipa palm.</p> + +<p>"It has been a long journey," she said with a wan +smile. "I am very tired."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," Peter Gross exclaimed in contrition. +"I should not have let you go. You must +come back with me to the residency and rest until +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"A half-hour's rest will be all I need," Koyala +replied.</p> + +<p>"But this is no place for you," Peter Gross expostulated.</p> + +<p>"The jungle is my home," Koyala said with simple +pride. "The Argus Pheasant nests in the +thickets."</p> + +<p>"Surely not at night?"</p> + +<p>"What is there to harm me?" Koyala smiled +wearily at his alarm.</p> + +<p>"But the wild beasts, the tigers, and the leopards, +and the orang-utans in the hill districts, and the +snakes?"</p> + +<p>"They are all my friends. When the tiger calls, I +answer. If he is hungry, I keep away. I know all +the sounds of the jungle; my grandfather, Chawa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>tangi, +taught them to me. I know the warning hiss +of the snake as he glides through the grasses, I +know the timid hoofbeat of the antelope, I know the +stealthy rustle of the wild hogs. They and the +jackals are the only animals I cannot trust."</p> + +<p>"But where do you sleep?"</p> + +<p>"If the night is dark and there is no moon, I cut +a bundle of bamboo canes. I bind these with +creepers to make a platform and hang it in a tree. +Then I swing between heaven and earth as securely +or more securely, than you do in your house, for I +am safe from the malice of men. If it rains I make +a shelter of palm-leaves on a bamboo frame. These +things one learns quickly in the forest."</p> + +<p>"You wonderful woman!" Peter Gross breathed +in admiration.</p> + +<p>Koyala smiled. She lay stretched out her full +length on the ground. Peter Gross squatted beside +her.</p> + +<p>"You haven't told me where you found Paddy?" +he remarked after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was easy," she said. "Ah Sing has a +station a little way this side of the Sadong country—"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross nodded.</p> + +<p>"I knew that he would go there. So I followed. +When I got there Ah Sing was loading his proa with +stores. I learned that your boy was a prisoner in +one of the houses of his people. I went to Ah Sing +and begged his life. I told him he was sacred to +Djath, that the Dyaks of Bulungan thought him +very holy indeed. Ah Sing was very angry. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +stormed about the loss of his proa and refused to +listen to me. He said he would hold the boy as a +hostage.</p> + +<p>"That night I went to the hut and found one of +my people on guard. He let me in. I cut the cords +that bound the boy, dyed his face brown and gave +him a woman's dress. I told him to wait for me in +the forest until he heard my cry. The guard thought +it was me when he left."</p> + +<p>Her voice drooped pathetically.</p> + +<p>"They brought me to Ah Sing. He was very +angry, he would have killed me, I think, if he had +dared. He struck me—see, here is the mark." +She drew back the sleeve of her kabaya and revealed +a cut in the skin with blue bruises about it. Peter +Gross became very white and his teeth closed +together tightly.</p> + +<p>"That is all," she concluded.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Koyala covertly studied +the resident's profile, so boyish, yet so masterfully +stern, as he gazed into the forest depths. She +could guess his thoughts, and she half-smiled.</p> + +<p>"When you left, I promised you that you should +have a reward—anything that you might name and +in my power as resident to give," Peter Gross said +presently.</p> + +<p>"Let us not speak of that—yet," Koyala dissented. +"Tell me, Mynheer Gross, do you love my +country?"</p> + +<p>"It is a wonderfully beautiful country," Peter +Gross replied enthusiastically, falling in with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +mood. "A country of infinite possibilities. We +can make it the garden spot of the world. Never +have I seen such fertile soil as there is in the river +bottom below us. All it needs is time and labor—and +men with vision."</p> + +<p>Koyala rose to a sitting posture and leaned on +one hand. With deft motion of the other she made +an ineffectual effort to cover her nut-brown limbs, +cuddled among the ferns and grasses, with the +shortened kabaya. Very nymphlike she looked, a +Diana of the jungle, and it was small wonder that +Peter Gross, the indifferent to woman, gave her his +serious attention while she glanced pensively down +the forest aisles.</p> + +<p>"Men with vision!" she sighed presently. "That +is what we have always needed. That is what we +have always lacked. My unhappy people! Ignorant, +and none to teach them, none to guide them +into the better way. Leaders have come, have +stayed a little while, and then they have gone again. +Brooke helped us in Sarawak—now only his memory +is left." A pause. "I suppose you will be going +back to Java soon again, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Not until my work is completed," Peter Gross +assured gravely.</p> + +<p>"But that will be soon. You will crush your +enemies. You will organize the districts and lighten +our burdens for a while. Then you will go. A new +resident will come. Things will slip back into the +old rut. Our young men are hot-headed, there will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +be feuds, wars, piracy. There are turns in the +wheel, but no progress for us, <i>mynheer</i>. Borneo!" +Her voice broke with a sob, and she stole a covert +glance at him.</p> + +<p>"By heaven, I swear that will not happen, Koyala," +Peter Gross asserted vehemently. "I shall not +go away, I shall stay here. The governor owes me +some reward, the least he can give me is to let me +finish the work I have begun. I shall dedicate my +life to Bulungan—we, Koyala, shall redeem her, we +two."</p> + +<p>Koyala shook her head. Her big, sorrowful eyes +gleamed on him for a moment through tears.</p> + +<p>"So you speak to-day when you are full of enthusiasm, +<i>mynheer</i>. But when one or two years have +passed, and you hear naught but the unending tales +of tribal jealousies, and quarrels over buffaloes, and +complaints about the tax, and falsehood upon falsehood, +then your ambition will fade and you will seek +a place to rest, far from Borneo."</p> + +<p>The gentle sadness of her tear-dimmed eyes, the +melancholy cadences of her voice sighing tribulation +like an October wind among the maples, and her +eloquent beauty, set Peter Gross's pulses on fire.</p> + +<p>"Koyala," he cried, "do you think I could give +up a cause like this—forget the work we have done +together—to spend my days on a plantation in Java +like a buffalo in his wallow?"</p> + +<p>"You would soon forget Borneo in Java, <i>mynheer</i>—and +me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> + +<p>The sweet melancholy of her plaintive smile drove +Peter Gross to madness.</p> + +<p>"Forget you? You, Koyala? My right hand, +my savior, savior thrice over, to whom I owe every +success I have had, without whom I would have +failed utterly, died miserably in Wobanguli's hall? +You wonderful woman! You lovely, adorable +woman!"</p> + +<p>Snatching her hands in his, he stared at her with +a fierce hunger that was half passion, half gratitude.</p> + +<p>A gleam of savage exultation flashed in Koyala's +eyes. The resident was hers. The fierce, insatiate +craving for this moment, that had filled her heart +ever since she first saw Peter Gross until it tainted +every drop of blood, now raced through her veins +like vitriol. She lowered her lids lest he read her +eyes, and bit her tongue to choke utterance. Still +his grasp on her hands did not relax. At last she +asked in a low voice, that sounded strange and harsh +even to her:</p> + +<p>"Why do you hold me, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>The madness of the moment was still on Peter. +He opened his lips to speak words that flowed to +them without conscious thought, phrases as utterly +foreign to his vocabulary as metaphysics to a Hottentot. +Then reason resumed her throne. Breathing +heavily, he released her.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Koyala," he said humbly.</p> + +<p>A chill of disappointment, like an arctic wave, +submerged Koyala. She felt the sensation of having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +what was dearest in life suddenly snatched from her. +Her stupefaction lasted but an instant. Then the +fury that goads a woman scorned possessed her and +lashed on the blood-hounds of vengeance.</p> + +<p>"Forgive you?" she spat venomously. "Forgive +you for what? The words you did not say, just +now, <i>orang blanda</i>, when you held these two hands?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross had risen quickly and she also sprang +to her feet. Her face, furious with rage, was lifted +toward his, and her two clenched fists were held +above her fluttering bosom. Passion made her +almost inarticulate.</p> + +<p>"Forgive you for cozening me with sweet words of +<i>our</i> work, and <i>our</i> mission when you despised me for +the blood of my mother that is in me? Forgive you +for leading me around like a pet parrot to say your +words to my people and delude them? Forgive you +for the ignominy you have heaped upon me, the +shame you have brought to me, the loss of friendships +and the laughter of my enemies?"</p> + +<p>"Koyala—" Peter Gross attempted, but he +might as well have tried to stop Niagara.</p> + +<p>"Are these the things you seek forgiveness for?" +Koyala shrieked. "Liar! Seducer! <i>Orang blanda!</i>"</p> + +<p>She spat the word as though it were something vile. +At that moment there was a rustling in the cane +back of Peter Gross. Bewildered, contrite, striving +to collect his scattered wits that he might calm the +tempest of her wrath, he did not hear it. But +Koyala did. There was a savage exultation in her +voice as she cried:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To-morrow the last white will be swept from +Bulungan. But you will stay here, <i>mynheer</i>—"</p> + +<p>Hearing the footsteps behind him, Peter Gross +whirled on his heel. But he turned too late. A bag +was thrust over his head. He tried to tear it away, +but clinging arms, arms as strong as his, held it +tightly about him. A heavy vapor ascended into +his nostrils, a vapor warm with the perfume of burning +sandalwood and aromatic unguents and spices. +He felt a drowsiness come upon him, struggled to +cast it off, and yielded. With a sigh like a tired +child's he sagged into the waiting arms and was +lowered to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Very good, Mynheer Muller," Koyala said. +"Now, if you and Cho Seng will bind his legs I will +call my Dyaks and have him carried to the house +we have prepared for him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Attack on the Fort</span></h3> + + +<p>When Peter Gross failed to return by noon +that day Captain Carver, becoming +alarmed, began making inquiries. Hughes +supplied the first clue.</p> + +<p>"I saw him go into the bush with the heathen +woman while we was buzzin' Paddy," he informed +his commander. "I ain't seen him since."</p> + +<p>A scouting party was instantly organized. It +searched the banyan grove, but found nothing. One, +of the members, an old plainsman, reported heel-marks +on the trail, but as this was a common walk +of the troops at the fort the discovery had no significance.</p> + +<p>"Where is Inchi?" Captain Carver inquired. +Search also failed to reveal the Dyak lad. As this +disquieting news was reported, Lieutenant Banning +was announced.</p> + +<p>The lieutenant, a smooth-faced, clean-cut young +officer who had had his commission only a few years, +explained the object of his visit without indulging +in preliminaries.</p> + +<p>"One of my Java boys tells me the report is current +in Bulungan that we are to be attacked to-morrow," +he announced. "A holy war has been +preached, and all the sea Dyaks and Malays in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +the residency are now marching this way, he says. +The pirate fleet is expected here to-night. I haven't +seen or heard of Captain Van Slyck since he left for +Padang."</p> + +<p>He was plainly worried, and Carver correctly +construed his warning as an appeal for advice and +assistance. The captain took from his wallet the +commission that Peter Gross had given him some +time before.</p> + +<p>"Since Captain Van Slyck is absent, I may as +well inform you that I take command of the fort by +order of the resident," he said, giving the document +to Banning. The lieutenant scanned it quickly.</p> + +<p>"Very good, captain," he remarked with a relieved +air. His tone plainly indicated that he was glad to +place responsibility in the crisis upon an older and +more experienced commander. "I suppose you will +enter the fort with your men?"</p> + +<p>"We shall move our stores and all our effects at +once," Carver declared. "Are your dispositions +made?"</p> + +<p>"We are always ready, captain," was the lieutenant's +reply.</p> + +<p>From the roof of the residency Carver studied +Bulungan town through field-glasses. There was an +unwonted activity in the village, he noticed. Scanning +the streets, he saw the unusual number of armed +men hurrying about and grouped at street corners +and in the market-place. At the water-front several +small proas were hastily putting out to sea.</p> + +<p>"It looks as if Banning was right," he muttered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<p>By sundown Carver's irregulars were stationed +at the fort. Courtesy denominated it a fort, but in +reality it was little more than a stockade made permanent +by small towers of crude masonry, filled +between with logs set on end. The elevation, however, +gave it a commanding advantage in such an +attack as they might expect. Peter Gross had been +careful to supply machine-guns, and these were +placed where they would do the most efficient service. +Putting the Javanese at work, Carver hastily +threw up around the fort a series of barbed-wire +entanglements and dug trench-shelters inside. These +operations were watched by an ever-increasing mob +of armed natives, who kept a respectful distance +away, however. Banning suggested a sortie in force +to intimidate the Dyaks.</p> + +<p>"It would be time wasted," Carver declared. +"We don't have to be afraid of this mob. They +won't show teeth until the he-bear comes. We'll +confine ourselves to getting ready—every second is +precious."</p> + +<p>A searchlight was one of Carver's contributions to +the defenses. Double sentries were posted and the +light played the country about all night, but there +was no alarm. When dawn broke Carver and Banning, +up with the sun, uttered an almost simultaneous +exclamation. A fleet of nearly thirty proas, +laden down with fighting men, lay in the harbor.</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing has arrived," Banning remarked. Absent-mindedly +he mused: "I wonder if Captain Van +Slyck is there?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> + +<p>Carver had by this time mastered just enough +Dutch to catch the lieutenant's meaning.</p> + +<p>"What do you know about Captain Van Slyck's +dealings with this gang?" he demanded, looking at +the young man fixedly.</p> + +<p>"I can't say—that is—" Banning took refuge in +an embarrassed silence.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," Carver answered curtly. "I +don't want you to inform against a superior officer. +But when we get back to Batavia you'll be called +upon to testify to what you know."</p> + +<p>Banning made no reply.</p> + +<p>Carver was at breakfast when word was brought +him that Mynheer Muller, the <i>controlleur</i>, was at +the gate and desired to see him. He had left orders +that none should be permitted to enter or leave +without special permission from the officer of the +day. The immediate thought that Muller was +come to propose terms of surrender occurred to him, +and he flushed darkly. He directed that the <i>controlleur</i> +be admitted.</p> + +<p>"<i>Goeden-morgen, mynheer kapitein</i>," Muller greeted +as he entered. His face was very pale, but he +seemed to carry himself with more dignity than +customarily, Carver noticed.</p> + +<p>"State your mission, <i>mynheer</i>," Carver directed +bluntly, transfixing the <i>controlleur</i> with his stern +gaze.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mynheer kapitein</i>, you must fight for your lives +to-day," Muller said. "Ah Sing is here, there are +three thousand Dyaks and Malays below." His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +voice quavered, but he pulled himself together +quickly. "I see you are prepared. Therefore what +I have told you is no news to you." He paused.</p> + +<p>"Proceed," Carver directed curtly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mynheer kapitein</i>, I am here to fight and die +with you," the <i>controlleur</i> announced.</p> + +<p>A momentary flash of astonishment crossed +Carver's face. Then his suspicions were redoubled.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't expected this," he said, without mincing +words. "I thought you would be on the other side."</p> + +<p>Muller's face reddened, but he instantly recovered. +"There was a time when I thought so, too, <i>kapitein</i>," +he admitted candidly. "But I now see I was in the +wrong. What has been done, I cannot undo. But +I can die with you. There is no escape for you +to-day, they are too many, and too well armed. I +have lived a Celebes islander, a robber, and a friend +of robbers. I can at least die a white man and a +Hollander."</p> + +<p>Carver looked at him fixedly.</p> + +<p>"Where is the resident?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"In a hut, in the jungle."</p> + +<p>"In Ah Sing's hands?"</p> + +<p>"He is Koyala's prisoner. Ah Sing does not know +he is there."</p> + +<p>"Um!" Carver grunted. The exclamation hid a +world of meaning. It took little thought on his +part to vision what had occurred.</p> + +<p>"Why aren't you with Koyala?" he asked crisply.</p> + +<p>Muller looked away. "She does not want me," +he said in a low voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> + +<p>For the first time since coming to Bulungan, +Carver felt a trace of sympathy for Muller. He, too, +had been disappointed in love. His tone was a +trifle less gruff as he asked: "Can you handle a +gun?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ja, mynheer.</i>"</p> + +<p>"You understand you'll get a bullet through the +head at the first sign of treachery?"</p> + +<p>Muller flushed darkly. "<i>Ja, mynheer</i>," he affirmed +with quiet dignity. It was the flush that +decided Carver.</p> + +<p>"Report to Lieutenant Banning," he said. "He'll +give you a rifle."</p> + +<p>It was less than an hour later that the investment +of the fort began. The Dyaks, scurrying through +the banyan groves and bamboo thickets, enclosed +it on the rear and landward sides. Ah Sing's pirates +and the Malays crawled up the rise to attack it +from the front. Two of Ah Sing's proas moved up +the bay to shut off escape from the sea.</p> + +<p>An insolent demand from Ah Sing and Wobanguli +that they surrender prefaced the hostilities.</p> + +<p>"Tell the Rajah and his Chinese cut-throat that +we'll have the pleasure of hanging them," was +Carver's reply.</p> + +<p>To meet the attack, Carver entrusted the +defense of the rear and landward walls to the Dutch +and Javanese under Banning, while he looked after +the frontal attack, which he shrewdly guessed would +be the most severe. Taking advantage of every +bush and tree, and particularly the hedges that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +lined the lane leading down to Bulungan, the +Malays and pirates got within six hundred yards +of the fort. A desultory rifle-fire was opened. It +increased rapidly, and soon a hail of bullets began +sweeping over the enclosure.</p> + +<p>"They've got magazine-rifles," Carver muttered +to himself. "Latest pattern, too. That's what +comes of letting traders sell promiscuously to +natives."</p> + +<p>The defenders made a vigorous reply. The +magazine-rifles were used with telling effect. Banning +had little difficulty keeping the Dyaks back, +but the pirates and Malays were a different race of +fighters, and gradually crept closer in, taking advantage +of every bit of cover that the heavily grown +country afforded.</p> + +<p>As new levies of natives arrived, the fire increased +in intensity. There were at least a thousand rifles +in the attacking force, Carver judged, and some of +the pirates soon demonstrated that they were able +marksmen. An old plainsman was the first casualty. +He was sighting along his rifle at a daring Manchu +who had advanced within three hundred yards of +the enclosure when a bullet struck him in the forehead +and passed through his skull. He fell where +he stood.</p> + +<p>Shortly thereafter Gibson, an ex-sailor, uttered +an exclamation, and clapped his right hand to his +left shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Are ye hit?" Larry Malone asked.</p> + +<p>"They winged me, I guess," Gibson said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Dutch medical officer hastened forward. +"The bone's broken," he pronounced. "We'll have +to amputate."</p> + +<p>"Then let me finish this fight first," Gibson retorted, +picking up his rifle. The doctor was a soldier, +too. He tied the useless arm in a sling, filled +Gibson's magazine, and jogged away to other duties +with a parting witticism about Americans who +didn't know when to quit. There was plenty of +work for him to do. Within the next half hour ten +men were brought into the improvised hospital, and +Carver, on the walls, was tugging his chin, wondering +whether he would be able to hold the day out.</p> + +<p>The firing began to diminish. Scanning the +underbrush to see what significance this might have, +Carver saw heavy columns of natives forming. The +first test was upon them. At his sharp command +the reply fire from the fort ceased and every man +filled his magazine.</p> + +<p>With a wild whoop the Malays and Chinese rose +from the bush and raced toward the stockade. There +was an answering yell from the other side as the +Dyaks, spears and krisses waving, sprang from the +jungle. On the walls, silence. The brown wave +swept like an avalanche to within three hundred +yards. The Javanese looked anxiously at their +white leader, standing like a statue, watching the +human tide roll toward him. Two hundred yards—a +hundred and fifty yards. The Dutch riflemen +began to fidget. A hundred yards. An uneasy +murmur ran down the whole line. Fifty yards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> + +<p>Carver gave the signal. Banning instantly repeated +it. A sheet of flame leaped from the walls +as rifles and machine-guns poured their deadly +torrents of lead into the advancing horde. The +first line melted away like butter before a fire. +Their wild yells of triumph changed to frantic +shrieks of panic, the Dyaks broke and fled for the +protecting cover of the jungle while the guns behind +them decimated their ranks. The Malays and +Chinese got within ten yards of the fort before they +succumbed to the awful fusillade, and fled and +crawled back to shelter. A mustached Manchu +alone reached the gate. He waved his huge kris, +but at that moment one of Carver's company +emptied a rifle into his chest and he fell at the very +base of the wall.</p> + +<p>The attack was begun, checked, and ended within +four minutes. Over two hundred dead and wounded +natives and Chinese lay scattered about the plain. +The loss within the fort had been four killed and +five wounded. Two of the dead were from Carver's +command, John Vander Esse and a Californian. +As he counted his casualties, Carver's lips tightened. +His thoughts were remarkably similar to that of the +great Epirot: "Another such victory and I am +undone."</p> + +<p>Lieutenant Banning, mopping his brow, stepped +forward to felicitate his commanding officer.</p> + +<p>"They'll leave us alone for to-day, anyway," he +predicted.</p> + +<p>Carver stroked his chin in silence a moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't think Ah Sing's licked so soon," he replied.</p> + +<p>For the next three hours there was only desultory +firing. The great body of natives seemed to have +departed, leaving only a sufficient force behind to +hold the defenders in check in case they attempted +to leave the fort. Speculation on the next step of +the natives was soon answered. Scanning the +harbor with his glasses, Carver detected an unwonted +activity on the deck of one of the proas. +He watched it closely for a few moments, then he +uttered an exclamation.</p> + +<p>"They're unloading artillery," he told Lieutenant +Banning.</p> + +<p>The lieutenant's lips tightened.</p> + +<p>"We have nothing except these old guns," he +replied.</p> + +<p>"They're junk," Carver observed succinctly. +"These proas carry Krupps, I'm told."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"We'll see whether they can handle it first. If +they make it too hot for us—well, we'll die fighting."</p> + +<p>The first shell broke over the fort an hour later +and exploded in the jungle on the other side. Twenty +or thirty shells were wasted in this way before the +gunner secured the range. His next effort landed +against one of the masonry towers on the side defended +by the Dutch. When the smoke had cleared +away the tower lay leveled. Nine dead and wounded +men were scattered among the ruins. A yell rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +from the natives, which the remaining Dutch +promptly answered with a stinging volley.</p> + +<p>"Hold your fire," Carver directed Banning. +"We'd better take to the trenches." These had +been dug the day before and deepened during the +past hour. Carver issued the necessary commands +and the defenders, except ten pickets, concealed +themselves in their earthen shelters.</p> + +<p>The gunnery of the Chinese artilleryman improved, +and gaunt breaches were formed in the walls. +One by one the towers crumbled. Each well-placed +shell was signalized by cheers from the Dyaks and +Malays. The shelling finally ceased abruptly. Carver +and Banning surveyed the scene. A ruin of +fallen stones and splintered logs was all that lay +between them and the horde of over three thousand +pirates and Malay and Dyak rebels. The natives +were forming for a charge.</p> + +<p>Carver took the lieutenant's hand in his own firm +grip.</p> + +<p>"This is probably the end," he said. "I'm glad +to die fighting in such good company."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Woman's Heart</span></h3> + + +<p>Lying on the bamboo floor of the jungle hut +which Muller had spoken of, his hands and +feet firmly bound, and a Dyak guard armed +with spear and kris at the door, Peter Gross thought +over the events of his administration as resident of +Bulungan. His thoughts were not pleasant. Shame +filled his heart and reddened his brow as he thought +of how confidently he had assumed his mission, +how firmly he had believed himself to be the chosen +instrument of destiny to restore order in the distracted +colony and punish those guilty of heinous +crimes, and how arrogantly he had rejected the sage +advice of his elders.</p> + +<p>He recollected old Sachsen's warning and his own +impatient reply—the event that he deemed so preposterous +at that time and old Sachsen had foreseen +had actually come to pass. He had fallen +victim to Koyala's wiles. And she had betrayed +him. Bitterly he cursed his stupid folly, the folly +that had led him to enter the jungle with her, the +folly of that mad moment when temptation had +assailed him where man is weakest.</p> + +<p>In his bitter self-excoriation he had no thought of +condemnation for her. The fault was his, he vehe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>mently +assured himself, lashing himself with the +scorpions of self-reproach. She was what nature +and the sin of her father had made her, a child of +two alien, unincorporable races, a daughter of the +primitive, wild, untamed, uncontrolled, loving +fiercely, hating fiercely, capable of supremest sacrifice, +capable, too, of the most fiendish cruelty.</p> + +<p>He had taken this creature and used her for his +own ends, he had praised her, petted her, treated +her as an equal, companion, and helpmate. Then, +when that moment of madness was upon them both, +he had suddenly wounded her acutely sensitive, +bitterly proud soul by drawing the bar sinister. How +she must have suffered! He winced at the thought +of the pain he had inflicted. She could not be +blamed, no, the fault was his, he acknowledged. He +should have considered that he was dealing with a +creature of flesh and blood, a woman with youth, +and beauty, and passion. If he, who so fondly +dreamed that his heart was marble, could fall so +quickly and so fatally, could he censure her?</p> + +<p>Carver, too, had warned him. Not once, but +many times, almost daily. He had laughed at the +warnings, later almost quarreled. What should he +say if he ever saw Carver again? He groaned.</p> + +<p>There was a soft swish of skirts. Koyala stood +before him. She gazed at him coldly. There was +neither hate nor love in her eyes, only indifference. +In her hand she held a dagger. Peter Gross returned +her gaze without flinching.</p> + +<p>"You are my prisoner, <i>orang blanda</i>," she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +"Mine only. This hut is mine. We are alone here, +in the jungle, except for one of my people."</p> + +<p>"You may do with me as you will, Koyala," +Peter Gross replied weariedly.</p> + +<p>Koyala started, and looked at him keenly.</p> + +<p>"I have come to carry you away," she announced.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at her in silence.</p> + +<p>"But first there are many things that we must talk +about," she said.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross rose to a sitting posture. "I am +listening," he announced.</p> + +<p>Koyala did not reply at once. She was gazing +fixedly into his eyes, those frank, gray eyes that +had so often looked clearly and honestly into hers +as he enthusiastically spoke of their joint mission +in Bulungan. A half-sob broke in her throat, but +she restrained it fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, <i>mynheer</i>, when we first met?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"It was at the mouth of the Abbas River, was it +not? At Wolang's village?"</p> + +<p>"Why did you laugh at me then?" she exclaimed +fiercely.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at her in astonishment. "I +laughed at you?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, on the beach. When I told you you must +go. You laughed. Do not deny it, you laughed!" +The fierce intensity of her tone betrayed her feeling.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross shook his head while his gaze met hers +frankly. "I do not recollect," he said. "I surely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +did not laugh at you—I do not know what it was—" +A light broke upon him. "Ay, to be sure, I +remember, now. It was a Dyak boy with a mountain +goat. He was drinking milk from the teats. +Don't you recall?"</p> + +<p>"You are trying to deceive me," Koyala cried +angrily. "You laughed because—because—"</p> + +<p>"As God lives, it is the truth!"</p> + +<p>Koyala placed the point of her dagger over Peter +Gross's heart.</p> + +<p>"<i>Orang blanda</i>," she said, "I have sworn to kill +you if you lie to me in any single particular to-day. +I did not see that whereof you speak. There was no +boy, no goat. Quick now, the truth, if you would +save your life."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross met her glance fearlessly.</p> + +<p>"I have told you why I laughed, Koyala," he +replied. "I can tell you nothing different."</p> + +<p>The point of the dagger pricked the resident's +skin.</p> + +<p>"Then you would rather die?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross merely stared at her. Koyala drew a +deep breath and drew back the blade.</p> + +<p>"First we shall talk of other things," she said.</p> + +<p>At that moment the rattle of rifle-fire reached +Peter Gross's ears.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" he cried.</p> + +<p>Koyala laughed, a low laugh of exultation. "That, +<i>mynheer</i>, is the children of Bulungan driving the +white peccaries from Borneo."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah Sing has attacked?" Peter Gross could not +help, in his excitement, letting a note of his dismay +sound in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing and his pirates," Koyala cried triumphantly. +"Wobanguli and the warriors of Bulungan. +Lkath and his Sadong Dyaks. The Malays +from the coast towns. All Bulungan except the hill +people. They are all there, as many as the sands of +the seashore, and they have the <i>orang blanda</i> from +Holland, and the Javanese, and the loud-voiced +<i>orang blanda</i> that you brought with you, penned in +Van Slyck's kampong. None will escape."</p> + +<p>"Thank God Carver's in the fort," Peter Gross +ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"But they cannot escape," Koyala insisted +fiercely.</p> + +<p>"We shall see," Peter Gross replied. Great as +were the odds, he felt confident of Carver's ability +to hold out a few days anyway. He had yet to +learn of the artillery Ah Sing commanded.</p> + +<p>"Not one shall escape," Koyala reiterated, the +tigerish light glowing in her eyes. "Ah Sing has +pledged it to me, Wobanguli has pledged it to me, the +last <i>orang blanda</i> shall be driven from Bulungan." +She clutched the hilt of her dagger fiercely—.</p> + +<p>Amazed at her vehemence, Peter Gross watched +the shifting display of emotion on her face.</p> + +<p>"Koyala," he said, suddenly, "why do you hate +us whites so?"</p> + +<p>He shrank before the fierce glance she cast at him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is there any need to ask?" she cried violently. +"Did I not tell you the first day we met, when I +told you I asked no favors of you, and would accept +none? What have you and your race brought to +my people and to me but misery, and more misery? +You came with fair promises, how have you fulfilled +them? In the <i>orang blanda</i> way, falsehood +upon falsehood, taking all, giving none. Why don't +I kill you now, when I have you in my power, when +I have only to drop my hand thus—" she flashed +the dagger at Peter Gross's breast—"and I will be +revenged? Why? Because I was a fool, white +man, because I listened to your lies and believed +when all my days I have sworn I would not. So I +have let you live, unless—" She did not finish the +thought, but stood in rigid attention, listening to the +increasing volume of rifle-fire.</p> + +<p>"They are wiping it out in blood there," she said +softly to herself, "the wrongs of Bulungan, what +my unhappy country has suffered from the <i>orang +blanda</i>."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's head was bowed humbly.</p> + +<p>"I have wronged you," he said humbly. "But, +before God, I did it in ignorance. I thought you +understood—I thought you worked with me for +Bulungan and Bulungan only, with no thought of +self. So I worked. Yet somehow, my plans went +wrong. The people did not trust me. I tried to +relieve them of unjust taxes. They would not let +me take the census. I tried to end raiding. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +were always disorders and I could not find the guilty. +I found a murderer for Lkath, among his own people, +yet he drove me away. I cannot understand it."</p> + +<p>"Do you know why?" Koyala exclaimed exultingly. +"Do you know why you failed? It was +I—I—I, who worked against you. The <i>orang +kayas</i> sent their runners to me and said: 'Shall we +give the <i>controlleur</i> the count of our people?' and I +said: 'No, Djath forbids.' To the Rajahs and Gustis +I said: 'Let there be wars, we must keep the ancient +valor of our people lest they become like the +Javanese, a nation of slaves.' You almost tricked +Lkath into taking the oath. But in the night I +went to him and said: 'Shall the vulture rest in the +eagle's nest?' and he drove you away."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross stared at her with eyes that saw not. +The house of his faith was crumbling into ruins, +yet he scarcely realized it himself, the revelation of +her perfidy had come so suddenly. He groped +blindly for salvage from the wreck, crying:</p> + +<p>"But you saved my life—three times!"</p> + +<p>She saw his suffering and smiled. So she had been +made to suffer, not once, but a thousand times.</p> + +<p>"That was because I had sworn the revenge +should be mine, not Ah Sing's or any one else's, +<i>orang blanda</i>."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross lowered his face in the shadow. He +did not care to have her see how great had been his +disillusionment, how deep was his pain.</p> + +<p>"You may do with me as you will, <i>juffrouw</i>," he +said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> + +<p>Koyala looked at him strangely a moment, then +rose silently and left the hut. Peter Gross never +knew the reason. It was because at that moment, +when she revealed her Dyak treachery and uprooted +his faith, he spoke to her as he would to a white +woman—"<i>juffrouw</i>."</p> + +<p>"They are holding out yet," Peter Gross said to +himself cheerfully some time later as the sound of +scattered volleys was wafted over the hills. Presently +he heard the dull boom of the first shell. +His face paled.</p> + +<p>"That is artillery!" he exclaimed. "Can it +be—?" He remembered the heavy guns on the +proas and his face became whiter still. He began +tugging at his bonds, but they were too firmly +bound. His Dyak guard looked in and grinned, and +he desisted. As time passed and the explosions continued +uninterruptedly, his face became haggard +and more haggard. It was because of his folly, he +told himself, that men were dying there—brave +Carver, so much abler and more foresighted than he, +the ever-cheerful Paddy, all those he had brought +with him, good men and true. He choked.</p> + +<p>Presently the shell-fire ceased. Peter Gross knew +what it meant, in imagination he saw the columns +of natives forming, column upon column, all that +vast horde of savages and worse than savages let +loose on a tiny square of whites.</p> + +<p>A figure stood in the doorway. It was Koyala. +Cho Seng stood beside her.</p> + +<p>"The walls are down," she cried triumphantly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +"There is only a handful of them left. The people +of Bulungan are now forming for the charge. In a +few minutes you will be the only white man left in +Bulungan."</p> + +<p>"I and Captain Van Slyck," Peter Gross said +scornfully.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," Koyala replied. "Ah Sing killed +him. He was of no further use to us, why should he +live?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross's lips tightened grimly. The traitor, +at least, had met the death he merited.</p> + +<p>Cho Seng edged nearer. Peter Gross noticed the +dagger hilt protruding from his blouse.</p> + +<p>"Has my time come, too?" he asked calmly.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman leaped on him. "Ah Sing sends +you this," he cried hoarsely—the dagger flashed.</p> + +<p>Quick as he was, quick as a tiger striking its prey, +the Argus Pheasant was quicker. As the dagger +descended, Koyala caught him by the wrist. He +struck her with his free hand and tried to tear the +blade away. Then his legs doubled under him, for +Peter Gross, although his wrists were bound, could use +his arms. Cho Seng fell on the point of the dagger, +that buried itself to the hilt in the fleshy part of his +breast. With a low groan he rolled over. His eyeballs +rolled glassily upward, thick, choked sounds +came from his throat—</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing—comeee—for Koyala—plenty quick—" +With a sigh, he died.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross looked at the Argus Pheasant. She +was gazing dully at a tiny scratch on her forearm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +a scratch made by Cho Seng's dagger. The edges +were purplish.</p> + +<p>"The dagger was poisoned," she murmured dully. +Her glance met her prisoner's and she smiled wanly.</p> + +<p>"I go to <i>Sangjang</i> with you, <i>mynheer</i>," she said.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross staggered to his knees and caught her +arm. Before she comprehended what he intended +to do he had his lips upon the cut and was sucking +the blood. A scarlet tide flooded her face, then +fled, leaving her cheeks with the pallor of death.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she cried, choking, and tried to tear +her arm away. But in Peter Gross's firm grasp she +was like a child. After a frantic, futile struggle she +yielded. Her face was bloodless as a corpse and +she stared glassily at the wall.</p> + +<p>Presently Peter Gross released her.</p> + +<p>"It was only a scratch," he said gently. "I +think we have gotten rid of the poison."</p> + +<p>The sound of broken sobbing was his only answer.</p> + +<p>"Koyala," he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>With a low moan she ran out of the hut, leaving +him alone with the dead body of the Chinaman, +already bloated purple.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross listened again. Only the ominous +silence from the hills, the silence that foretold the +storm. He wondered where Koyala was and his +heart became hot as he recollected Cho Seng's farewell +message that Ah Sing was coming. Well, Ah +Sing would find him, find him bound and helpless. +The pirate chief would at last have his long-sought +revenge. For some inexplicable reason he felt glad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +that Koyala was not near. The jungle was her +best protection, he knew.</p> + +<p>A heavy explosion cut short his reveries. "They +are cannonading again," he exclaimed in surprise, +but as another terrific crash sounded a moment +later, his face became glorified. Wild cries of terror +sounded over the hills, Dyak cries, mingled with the +shrieking of shrapnel—</p> + +<p>"It's the <i>Prins</i>," Peter Gross exclaimed jubilantly. +"Thank God, Captain Enckel came on time."</p> + +<p>He tugged at his own bonds in a frenzy of hope, +exerting all his great strength to strain them sufficiently +to permit him to slip one hand free. But +they were too tightly bound. Presently a shadow +fell over him. He looked up with a start, expecting +to see the face of the Chinese arch-murderer, Ah +Sing. Instead it was Koyala.</p> + +<p>"Let me help you," she said huskily. With a +stroke of her dagger she cut the cord. Another +stroke cut the bonds that tied his feet. He sprang +up, a free man.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, Koyala," he cried, catching her by the +arm. "Ah Sing may be here any minute."</p> + +<p>Koyala gently disengaged herself.</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing is in the jungle, far from here," she +said.</p> + +<p>A silence fell upon them both. Her eyes, averted +from his, sought the ground. He stood by, struggling +for adequate expression.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, Koyala?" he finally asked. +She had made no movement to go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wherever you will, <i>mynheer</i>," she replied quietly. +"I am now your prisoner."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross stared a moment in astonishment. +"My prisoner?" he repeated. "Nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Your people have conquered, <i>mynheer</i>," she +said. "Mine are in flight. Therefore I have come +to surrender myself—to you."</p> + +<p>"I do not ask your surrender," Peter Gross, +replied gravely, beginning to understand.</p> + +<p>"You do not ask it, <i>mynheer</i>, but some one must +suffer for what has happened. Some one must pay +the victor's price. I am responsible, I incited my +people. So I offer myself—they are innocent and +should not be made to suffer."</p> + +<p>"Ah Sing is responsible," Peter Gross said firmly. +"And I."</p> + +<p>"You, <i>mynheer</i>?" The question came from Koyala's +unwilling lips before she realized it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I, <i>juffrouw</i>. It is best that we forget what +has happened—I must begin my work over again." +He closed his lips firmly, there were lines of pain in +his face. "That is," he added heavily, "if his excellency +will permit me to remain here after this +fiasco."</p> + +<p>"You will stay here?" Koyala asked incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And you, <i>juffrouw</i>?"</p> + +<p>A moment's silence. "My place is with my people—if +you do not want me as hostage, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>Peter Gross took a step forward and placed a hand +on her shoulder. She trembled violently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have a better work for you, <i>juffrouw</i>," he said.</p> + +<p>Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his. There was +mute interrogation in the glance.</p> + +<p>"To help me make Bulungan peaceful and prosperous," +he said.</p> + +<p>Koyala shook herself free and walked toward the +door. Peter Gross did not molest her. She stood +on the threshold, one hesitating foot on the jungle +path that led to the grove of big banyans. For +some minutes she remained there. Then she slowly +turned and reėntered the hut.</p> + +<p>"Mynheer Gross," she said, in a choking voice, +"before I met you I believed that all the <i>orang +blanda</i> were vile. I hated the white blood that was +in me, many times I yearned to take it from me, +drop by drop, many times I stood on the edge of +precipices undecided whether to let it nourish my +body longer or no. Only one thing kept me from +death, the thought that I might avenge the wrongs +of my unhappy country and my unhappy mother."</p> + +<p>A stifled sob shook her. After a moment or two +she resumed:</p> + +<p>"Then you came. I prayed the Hanu Token to +send a young man, a young man who would desire +me, after the manner of white men. When I saw +you I knew you as the man of the Abbas, the man +who had laughed, and I thought the Hanu Token +had answered my prayer. I saved you from Wobanguli, +I saved you from Ah Sing, that you might be +mine, mine only to torture." Her voice broke again.</p> + +<p>"But you disappointed me. You were just, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +were kind, righteous in all your dealings, considerate +of me. You did not seek to take me in your +arms, even when I came to you in your own dwelling. +You did not taunt me with my mother like that pig, +Van Slyck—"</p> + +<p>"He is dead," Peter Gross interrupted gently.</p> + +<p>"I have no sorrow for him. <i>Sangjang</i> has waited +over-long for him. Now you come to me, after all +that has happened, and say: 'Koyala, will you forget +and help me make Bulungan happy?' What +shall I answer, <i>mynheer</i>?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him humbly, entreatingly. Peter +Gross smiled, his familiar, confident, warming smile.</p> + +<p>"What your conscience dictates, Koyala."</p> + +<p>She breathed rapidly. At last came her answer, +a low whisper. "If you wish it, I will help you, +<i>mynheer</i>."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross reached out his hand and caught hers. +"Then we're pards again," he cried.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Governor's Promise</span></h3> + + +<p>Peter Gross had just concluded an account +of his administration in Bulungan to Governor-General +Van Schouten at the latter's +<i>paleis</i> in Batavia. The governor-general was +frowning.</p> + +<p>"So! <i>mynheer</i>," he exclaimed gruffly. "This is +not a very happy report you have brought me."</p> + +<p>Peter Gross bent his head.</p> + +<p>"No census, not a cent of taxes paid, piracy, +murders, my <i>controlleurs</i>—God knows where they +are, the whole province in revolt. This is a nice +kettle of fish."</p> + +<p>Sachsen glanced sympathetically at Peter Gross. +The lad he loved so well sat with bowed head and +clenched hands, lines of suffering marked his face, +he had grown older, oh, so much older, during those +few sorry months since he had so confidently declared +his policies for the regeneration of the residency +in this very room. The governor was speaking +again.</p> + +<p>"You said you would find Mynheer de Jonge's +murderer for me," Van Schouten rasped. "Have +you done that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your excellency. It was Kapitein Van +Slyck who planned the deed, and Cho Seng who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +committed the act, pricked him with a upas thorn +while he slept, as I told your excellency. Here are +my proofs. A statement made by Mynheer Muller +to Captain Carver and Lieutenant Banning before +he died, and a statement made by Koyala to me." +He gave the governor the documents. The latter +scanned them briefly and laid them aside.</p> + +<p>"How did Muller come to his death?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Like a true servant of the state, fighting in defense +of the fort," Peter Gross replied. "A splinter +of a shell struck him in the body."</p> + +<p>"H-m!" the governor grunted. "I thought he +was one of these traitors, too."</p> + +<p>"He expiated his crimes two weeks ago at Fort +Wilhelmina, your excellency."</p> + +<p>"And Cho Seng?" the governor demanded. "Is +he still alive?"</p> + +<p>"He fell on his own dagger." Peter Gross described +the incident. "It was not the dagger thrust +that killed him," he explained. "That made only a +flesh wound. But the dagger point had been +dipped in a cobra's venom." Softly he added: +"He always feared that he would die from a snake's +poison."</p> + +<p>"It is the judgment of God," Van Schouten pronounced +solemnly. He looked at Peter Gross +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Now this Koyala," he asked, "where is she?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. In the hills, among her own +people, I think. She will not trouble you again."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p> + +<p>The governor stared at his resident. Gradually +the stern lines of his face relaxed and a quaintly +humorous glint came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"So, Mynheer Gross, the woman deceived you?" +he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>Peter Gross made no reply. The governor's +eyes twinkled. He suddenly brought down his +fist on the table with a resounding bang.</p> + +<p>"<i>Donder en bliksem!</i>" he exclaimed, "I cannot +find fault with you for that. The fault is mine. I +should have known better. Why, when I was your +age, a pretty woman could strip the very buttons +from my dress coat—dammit, Mynheer Gross, you +must have had a heart of ice to withstand her so +long."</p> + +<p>He flourished a highly colored silk handkerchief +and blew his nose lustily.</p> + +<p>"So you are forgiven on that count, Mynheer +Gross. Now for the other. It appears that by +your work you have created a much more favorable +feeling toward us among many of the natives. The +hill Dyaks did not rise against us as they have always +done before, and some of the coast Dyak tribes were +loyal. That buzzard, Lkath, stayed in his lair. +Furthermore, you have solved the mysteries that +have puzzled us for years and the criminals have been +muzzled. Lastly, you were the honey that attracted +all these piratical pests into Bulungan harbor where +Kapitein Enckel was able to administer them a blow +that will sweep those seas clear of this vermin for +years to come, I believe. You have not done so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +badly after all, Mynheer Gross. Of course, you and +your twenty-five men might have come to grief had +not Sachsen, here, heard reports that caused me to +send the <i>Prins Lodewyk</i> post-haste to Bulungan, +but we will overlook your too great confidence on +the score of your youth." He chuckled. "Now as +to the future."</p> + +<p>He paused and looked smilingly into the eyes that +looked so gratefully into his.</p> + +<p>"What say you to two more years at Bulungan, +<i>mynheer</i>, to straighten out affairs there, work out +your policies, and finish what you have so ably +begun?"</p> + +<p>"Your excellency is too good," Peter Gross murmured +brokenly.</p> + +<p>"Good!" Van Schouten snapped. "<i>Donder en +bliksem, mynheer</i>, it is only that I know a man when +I see him. Can you go back next week?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your excellency."</p> + +<p>"Then see that you do. And see to it that those +devils send me some rice this year when the tax falls +due or I will hang them all in the good, old-fashioned +way."</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">The End</span></h4> + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/ad01.png" width="450" height="717" alt="The Big Fight" title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Big Fight</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/ad02.png" width="450" height="1325" alt="Capt. David Fallon M.C." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Capt. David Fallon M.C.</span> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p> + + +<p>Few soldiers in this great war +have been through adventures +more thrilling, dramatic and perilous +than fell to the lot of Captain David +Fallon.</p> + +<p>He is a young Irishman whose first +fighting was against the hillmen in +their uprisings in India. He received +the Indian Field Medal.</p> + +<p>The opening of the war found him +physical instructor and bayonet drill +master at the Royal Military College, +Duntroon, New South Wales. +He went through the entire, terrible +Gallipoli campaign.</p> + +<p>He was in scores of fierce trench +battles.</p> + +<p>He commanded a tank in an amazing +war adventure.</p> + +<p>He has served as an aėrial observer, +spotted enemy positions and fought +enemy aeroplanes.</p> + +<p>On the road to Thiepval with a shoulder +smashed by shrapnel he remained +in command of his men behind barricades +made of the dead and for +twenty-two hours held off the Germans +until reinforcements arrived.</p> + +<p>On scout duty he frequently penetrated +German trenches and gun +positions in the night.</p> + +<p>A bomb duel with a German patrol +when he was detected in their +trenches brought him irreparable +injury.</p> + +<p>He lay for three days in the mud of a +shellhole in the enemy country with +his right arm blasted, his upper jaw +broken, his face and shoulders +burned, but survived and managed +to escape.</p> + +<p>He was awarded the Military Cross +for daring and valuable service to +his King.</p> + +<p>You will probably hear Captain Fallon +lecture, but his book is something +you will wish to keep. It is +historical and every word rings true.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<h2>THE WAR BOOK WITH A THRILL</h2> + +<h3>SPECIMEN CHAPTER</h3> + +<p class="center">CHAPTER XII</p> + +<p class="center">"<span class="smcap">Razzle Dazzle</span>"</p> + + +<p>It was at Beaumont-Hamel, about September +16th, that I got my chance to command a +"tank."</p> + +<p>The dear girl was named "Razzle Dazzle." +She was very young, having been in service only +three months, but rather portly. Matter of +fact, she weighed something over thirty tons. +And in no way could you call the dear little +woman pretty. She was a pallid gray and mud-splashed +when I got her and there was no grace +in the bulging curves of her steel shape. Or of +her conical top. Or her ponderous wheels.</p> + +<p>The fact is that she showed every aspect +of being a bad, scrappy old dearie. The minute +I saw her in her lovely ugliness I knew she +would like trouble and lots of it. Her metabolism +was a marvel. She carried a six-hundred-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>horse-power +motor. And out of her gray steel +hoods protruded eight guns. An infernal old +girl, you can bet she was. All ready to make +battle in large quantities.</p> + +<p>When I boarded "Razzle Dazzle" she +was full of dents. She had rocked around +among several trench charges. But the reason +for my assignment to her was prosaic. Her +captain had not been killed. He was just sick—some +stomach complaint. I was drafted on +an hour's notice to the job, this, because of +long training in handling rapid-fire guns.</p> + +<p>It was all new to me, but highly interesting. +My crew consisted of seven men—five of them +well experienced. And a black cat. Although +she was a lady-cat she had been named +"Joffre" and I can't tell you why because I +never received any explanation on this point myself. +But "Joffre" was very friendly and insisted +on sitting either on my knee or shoulder +from the moment I sealed myself and my men +in the tank. We had our outlook from several +periscopes above the turret and from spy holes +in the turret itself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> + +<p>The order had come to me about one in the +morning, and it was nearly three when we +started lumbering out toward the enemy +trenches. We had about six hundred yards to +cover. I knew little or nothing of her motor +power or speed. My concern was with the efficiency +of the guns. She pumped and swayed +"across No Man's Land" at about four miles +an hour. She groaned and tossed a great deal. +And in fact, made such poor progress that my +regiment, the Oxfords and Bucks, beat the old +dearie to the enemy lines. Our men were +among the barbed wire of the first line, fighting +it, cutting it, knocking it down before the old +"Razzle Dazzle" got into action.</p> + +<p>But she "carried on" just the same. And +when she smote the barbed-wire obstacles, she +murdered them. She crushed those barriers to +what looked like messes of steel spaghetti.</p> + +<p>Instead of sinking into trenches as I feared +she would, she crushed them and continued to +move forward. Of course, we were letting go +everything we had, and from my observation +hole, I could see the Germans didn't like it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p> + +<p>They had put up something of a stand against +the infantry. But against the tank they were +quick to make their farewells. It was a still +black night, but under the star-shells we could +see them scurrying out of our way.</p> + +<p>This was very sensible of them because we +were certainly making a clean sweep of everything +in sight and had the earth ahead throwing +up chocolate showers of spray as if the +ground we rode was an angry sea of mud.</p> + +<p>Every man in the tank was shouting and +yelling with the excitement of the thing and we +were tossed up against each other like loosened +peas in a pod. Only Joffre remained perfectly +cool. Somehow she maintained a firm seat on +my swaying shoulder and as I glanced around +to peer at her she was calmly licking a paw +and then daintily wiped her face.</p> + +<p>Suddenly out of a very clever camouflage of +tree branches and shrubbery a German machine-gun +emplacement was revealed. The bullets +stormed and rattled upon the tank. But they +did themselves a bad turn by revealing their +whereabouts, for we made straight for the +camouflage and went over that battery of machine +guns, crunching its concrete foundation as +if it were chalk.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<img src="images/samp01.png" width="650" height="450" alt=""British blood is calling British blood"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"British blood is calling British blood"</span> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then we turned about and from our new position +put the Germans under an enfilade fire +that we kept up until every evidence was at hand +that the Oxfords and Bucks and supporting battalions +were holding the trenches.</p> + +<p>But this was only preliminary work cut out +for the tank to do. I had special instructions +and a main objective. This was a sugar refinery. +It was a one-storied building of brick and +wood with a tiled roof. It had been established +as a sugar refinery by the Germans before the +war and when this occasion arose blossomed as +a fortress with a gun aimed out of every window.</p> + +<p>To allow it to remain standing in hostile +hands would mean that the trenches we had +won could be constantly battered. Its removal +was most desirable. To send infantry against +it would have involved huge losses in life. The +tank was deemed the right weapon.</p> + +<p>It was.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 646px;"> +<img src="images/samp02.png" width="646" height="450" alt="Cleaning Mills bombs" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Cleaning Mills bombs</span> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> + +<p>And largely because "Razzle Dazzle" took +matters into her own hands. The truth is she +ran away.</p> + +<p>We rocked and plowed out of the trenches +and went swaying toward the refinery. I +ordered the round-top sealed. And we beat +the refinery to the attack with our guns. But +they had seen us coming and every window +facing our way developed a working gun. There +were about sixteen such windows. They all +blazed at us.</p> + +<p>My notion had been to circle the "sugar mill", +with "Razzle Dazzle" and shoot it up from all +sides. We were getting frightfully rapped by +the enemy fire, but there was apparently nothing +heavy enough to split the skin of the wild, old +girl. Our own fire was effective. We knocked +out all the windows and the red-tiled roof was +sagging. As I say, my notion was to circle the +"mill" and I gave orders accordingly. But the +"Razzle Dazzle's" chauffeur looked at me in +distress.</p> + +<p>"The steering gear's off, sir," said he.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Stop her then and we'll let them have it +from here," I ordered.</p> + +<p>He made several frantic motions with the +mechanism and said:</p> + +<p>"I can't stop her, either."</p> + +<p>And the "Razzle Dazzle" carried out her +own idea of attack. She banged head-on into +the "mill." She went right through a wide +doorway, making splinters of the door, she +knocked against concrete pillars, supports and +walls, smashing everything in her way and +bowled out of the other side just as the roof +crashed in and apparently crushed and smothered +all the artillery men beneath it.</p> + +<p>On the way through, the big, powerful old +girl bucked and rocked and reared until we men +and the black cat inside her were thrown again +and again into a jumble, the cat scratching us +like a devil in her frenzy of fear.</p> + +<p>Closed up in the tank as we were, we +could hear the roar and crash of the falling +"mill," and from my observation port-hole I +could observe that it was most complete. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +place had been reduced to a mere heap. Not a +shot came out of it at us.</p> + +<p>But still the "Razzle Dazzle" was having +her own way. Her motorist was signaling me +that he had no control of her. This was cheerful +intelligence because right ahead was a huge +shell crater. She might slide into it and climb +up the other side and out. I hoped so. But +she didn't. She hit the bottom of the pit, tried +to push her way up and out, fell back, panted, +pushed up again, fell back and then just stuck +at the bottom of the well, throbbing and moaning +and maybe penitent for her recklessness.</p> + +<p>Penitence wasn't to do her any good. It +wasn't five minutes later when the Germans had +the range of her and began smashing us with +big shells. I ordered my men to abandon her +and led them in a rush out of the crater and +into small shell holes until the storm of fire was +past.</p> + +<p>When it was, "Razzle Dazzle" was a wreck. +She was cracked, distorted and shapeless. But +the runaway engine was still plainly to be heard +throbbing. Finally a last big shell sailed into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +doughty tank and there was a loud bang and a +flare. Her oil reservoir shot up in an enormous +blaze.</p> + +<p>"Razzle Dazzle" was no more. But she had +accounted for the "refinery." And our infantry +had done the rest. The German position was +ours.</p> + +<p>I was all enthusiasm for fighting "tanks." +But my superiors squelched it. For when I +asked for command of a sister of "Razzle +Dazzle" next day, a cold-eyed aide said to me:</p> + +<p>"One tank, worth ten thousand pounds, is as +much as any bally young officer may expect to +be given to destroy during his lifetime. Good +afternoon."</p> + +<p>He never gave me a chance to explain that +it was "Razzle Dazzle's" own fault, how she +had taken things into her own willful control. +But he did try to give me credit for what +"Razzle Dazzle" had herself accomplished. +He said the destruction of the "sugar mill" had +been "fine work."</p> + +<p>I wonder what "Joffre" thought of it all. I +don't remember seeing her when we fled from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +the "tank," except as something incredibly swift +and black flashed past my eyes as we thrust up +the lid. I sincerely hope she is alive and +well "somewhere in France."</p> + + +<blockquote><p>"THE BIG FIGHT" is over 300 pages long and +is the most interesting of war books. Some books +are made to read and forget; others to read and +to keep. "THE BIG FIGHT" belongs to the +latter class.</p> + +<p>Why not order a copy to-day?</p></blockquote> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 647px;"> +<img src="images/samp03.png" width="647" height="450" alt="In the supports, waiting to advance" title="" /> +<span class="caption">In the supports, waiting to advance</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/samp04.png" width="450" height="1001" alt="The Military Cross" title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Military Cross</span> +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Argus Pheasant, by John Charles Beecham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGUS PHEASANT *** + +***** This file should be named 37215-h.htm or 37215-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37215/ + +Produced by Katie Hernandez, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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