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diff --git a/37215-8.txt b/37215-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..edb4ccd --- /dev/null +++ b/37215-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9857 @@ +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.) + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Cover] + + + + + THE ARGUS PHEASANT + +[Illustration: The Chinaman's laborious progress through the cane had +amused her. She knew why he stepped so carefully] + + THE + + ARGUS PHEASANT + + BY + + JOHN CHARLES BEECHAM + + Frontispiece by + GEORGE W. GAGE + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + W. J. WATT & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY + W. J. WATT & COMPANY + + PRESS OF + BRAUNWORTH & CO. + BOOK MANUFACTURERS + BROOKLYN, N. Y. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + I. The Omniscient Sachsen 1 + II. Ah Sing Counts His Nails 10 + III. Peter Gross is Named Resident 25 + IV. Koyola's Prayer 35 + V. Sachsen's Warning 54 + VI. The Pirate League 73 + VII. Mynheer Muller Worries 82 + VIII. Koyala's Warning 97 + IX. The Long Arm of Ah Sing 107 + X. Captain Carver Signs 119 + XI. Mynheer Muller's Dream 125 + XII. Peter Gross's Reception 134 + XIII. A Fever Antidote 144 + XIV. Koyala's Defiance 154 + XV. The Council 165 + XVI. Peter Gross's Pledge 173 + XVII. The Poisoned Arrow 192 + XVIII. A Summons to Sadong 198 + XIX. Koyala's Ultimatum 207 + XX. Lkath's Conversion 216 + XXI. Captured by Pirates 226 + XXII. In the Temple 238 + XXIII. Ah Sing's Vengeance 245 + XXIV. A Rescue 252 + XXV. The Fight on the Beach 259 + XXVI. "To Half of My Kingdom-" 268 + XXVII. A Woman Scorned 274 +XXVIII. The Attack on the Fort 285 + XXIX. A Woman's Heart 296 + XXX. The Governor's Promise 310 + + + + +THE ARGUS PHEASANT + + Ah, God, for a man with a heart, head, hand, + Like some of the simple great ones gone + Forever and ever by; + One still, strong man in a blatant land, + Whatever they call him--what care I?-- + Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat--one + Who can rule and dare not lie! _Tennyson._ + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE OMNISCIENT SACHSEN + + +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 his military associate, General Gysbert Karel +Vanden Bosch, observed with growing anxiety. + +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. + +"Then, my dear _generaal_," he demanded, "you say we must let these sons +of Jazebel burn down my residences, behead my residents, and feed my +_controlleurs_ to the crocodiles without interference from the +military?" + +"_Ach_, no, your excellency!" General Vanden Bosch expostulated hastily. +"Not that!" + +"I fear I have not understood you, my dear general. What do you advise?" + +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 _orang +blanda_ devil at the _paleis_, Allah deliver us." + +"Ha! _generaal_, what do you say?" the governor exclaimed. + +Vanden Bosch coughed noisily and rallied his wits. + +"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 excellency knows, all he will +find is empty huts. Not a proa on the sea; not a Dyak in his field." + +"You might as well send that many wooden men!" Van Schouten snapped. + +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: + +"Would it not be wise, your excellency, to give Mynheer Muller, the +_controlleur_, more time? His last report was very satisfactory. Very +satisfactory, indeed!" He smacked his lips at the satisfactoriness +thereof. + +"_Donder en bliksem!_" 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?" + +The general shook his head with a brave show of regret. + +"_Ach!_ your excellency," he replied sadly; "he promised so well." + +"Promises," the governor retorted, "do not pay taxes." + +Vanden Bosch rubbed his purple nose in perplexity. + +"I suppose it is the witch-woman again," he remarked, discouragedly. + +"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." + +"That is what we get for letting half-breeds mingle with whites in our +mission schools," Vanden Bosch observed bitterly. + +The governor scowled. "That folly will cost the state five hundred +_gulden_," he remarked. "That is the price I have put on her head." + +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." + +The governor snorted. "_Neen, generaal_," he negatived. "For once he has +found a sweeter love than silver. The fool fairly grovels at Koyala's +feet, Sachsen tells me." + +"So?" Vanden Bosch exclaimed with quickened interest. "They say she is +very fair." + +"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. + +"Argus Pheasant, Bintang Burung, the Star Bird--'tis a sweet-sounding +name the Malays have for her," the general remarked musingly. There was +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." + +The governor grunted. + +"You are an old cock that has lost his tail-feathers, _generaal_," he +growled. "This is a task for a young man." + +The general's chest swelled and his chin perked up jauntily. + +"I am not so old as you think, your excellency," he retorted with a +trace of asperity. + +"_Neen, neen, generaal_," 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." + +The general flushed. His peccadillos had followed him to Java, and he +did not like to be reminded of them. + +"The argus pheasant is too shy a bird to come within gunshot, your +excellency," he replied somberly. "It must be trapped." + +"Ay, and so must she," the governor assented. "That is how she got her +name. But you are too seasoned for bait, my dear _generaal_." He +chuckled. + +Vanden Bosch was too much impressed with his own importance to enjoy +being chaffed. Ignoring the thrust, he observed dryly: + +"Your excellency might try King Saul's plan." + +"Ha!" the governor exclaimed with interest. "What is that?" + +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. + +"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." + +"It is not her brown blood that she hates, it is her white blood," Van +Schouten contradicted. "But who would be the man?" + +"Why not Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_!" Vanden Bosch asked. "From +what your excellency says, he would not be unwilling. Then our troubles +in Bulungan would be over." + +Van Schouten scowled thoughtfully. + +"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." + +He licked his lips in relish of the plan. + +Van Schouten shook his head. + +"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." + +"But, your excellency," Vanden Bosch entreated. + +"It is ridiculous, _generaal_," the governor cut in autocratically. "The +argus pheasant does not mate with the vulture." + +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." + +Van Schouten looked at him fixedly for several moments. A miserable +sensation of having said too much crept over the general. + +"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?" + +Inwardly cursing himself for his folly in ceasing to advocate Muller, +the general twiddled his thumbs and said nothing. + +"Well, _generaal_?" Van Schouten rasped irascibly. + +"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. + +Van Schouten's face flamed. + +"Enough! Enough!" he roared. "If the military cannot keep our house in +order, Sachsen and I will find a man. That is all, _generaal_. +_Goedendag!_" + +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: + +"Sachsen! _Hola_, Sachsen!" + +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. + +"Sachsen," the governor demanded, the eagle gleaming in his lean, +Cæsarian face, "where can I find a man that will bring peace to +Bulungan?" + +The wrinkled features of the all-knowing Sachsen crinkled with a smile +of inspiration. + +"Your excellency," he murmured, bowing low, "there is Peter Gross, +freeholder of Batavia." + +"Peter Gross, _Pieter_ 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?" + +The secretary bowed again, punctiliously. + +"Your excellency perhaps remembers," he reminded, "that it was Peter +Gross who rescued Lieutenant Hendrik de Koren and twelve men from the +pirates of Lombock." + +"Ha!" the governor exclaimed, his stern features relaxing a trifle. +"Now, Sachsen, answer me truthfully, has this Peter Gross an eye for +women?" + +The secretary bent low. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Your excellency, the angels above would fail sooner than he." + +The governor's fist crashed on the table with a resounding thwack. + +"Then he is the man we need!" he exclaimed. "Where shall I find this +Peter Gross, Sachsen?" + +"Your excellency, he is now serving as first mate of the Yankee +barkentine, _Coryander_, anchored in this port. He was here at the +_paleis_ 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 _rumah +makan_, in the Chinese campong." + +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. + +"Sachsen," he said, "except myself, you are the only man in Java that +knows anything. My hat and coat, Sachsen, and my cane!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AH SING COUNTS HIS NAILS + + +Captain Threthaway, of the barkentine, _Coryander_, 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 _Coryander's_ 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. + +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 _Coryander's_ 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: + +"Can we victual at Batavia as cheaply as at Singapore, Mr. Gross?" + +Peter Gross looked at the shore-line thoughtfully. + +"One place is as cheap as the other, Mr. Threthaway; but if it's my +opinion you want, I advise against stopping at Batavia." + +The captain frowned. + +"Why, Mr. Gross?" he asked sharply. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Captain Threthaway flushed angrily. His thin, ascetic jaw set with +Puritan stubbornness as he retorted: + +"When I can't sail a ship without supplying liquor to the crew, I'll +retire, Mr. Gross." + +"Don't misunderstand me, captain," Peter Gross replied, with quiet +patience. + +"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." + +"Let them dare come back drunk," the captain snapped angrily. "I know +what will cure them." + +"They won't come back," Peter Gross asserted calmly. + +"Then we'll go out and get them," Captain Threthaway said grimly. + +"They'll be where they can't be found," Peter Gross replied. + +Captain Threthaway snorted impatiently. + +"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, Ah Sing, a public-house proprietor and a crimp, that +has runners to meet every boat. Once a man goes into his _rumah makan_, +he's as good as lost until the next skipper comes along short-handed and +puts up the price." + +Captain Threthaway smiled confidently. + +"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." + +"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." + +Captain Threthaway's lips pinched together in irritation. + +"There are always the authorities," he remarked pettishly, to end the +controversy. + +Peter Gross restrained a look of disgust with difficulty. + +"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 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." + +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. + +"I'll take the chance, Mr. Gross," he said. "This heat is killing me. +You may figure on twenty-four hours in port." + +Twelve hours after the _Coryander_ 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. + +"Mr. Gross," he said, "the damned renegades are gone. Do you think you +can find them?" + +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: + +"I'll try, sir." + +So it befell that he sought news of the missing ones at the great white +_stadhuis_, where the Heer Sachsen, always his friend, met him and +conceived the inspiration for his prompt recommendation to the +governor-general. + +Peter Gross ambled on toward Ah Sing's _rumah makan_ 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. + +"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. + +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. + +"'Twould be a better Batavia if some one set fire to the place," he +muttered to himself. "Yet the law would call it arson." + +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. + +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 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. + +"Good-morning, Ah Sing," Peter Gross remarked happily, as he mounted the +colonnade. + +The tiny slits through which Ah Sing beheld the pageantry of a sun-baked +world opened a trifle wider. + +"May Allah bless thee, Mr. Gross," he greeted impassively. + +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. + +"A hot day," he panted, and fanned himself as though he found the +humidity unbearable. + +"Belly hot," Ah Sing gravely agreed in a guttural voice that sounded +from unfathomable abysses. + +"A hot day for a man that's tasted no liquor for nigh three months," +Peter Gross amended. + +"You makee long trip?" Ah Sing inquired politely. + +Peter Gross's features molded themselves into an expression eloquently +appreciative of his past miseries. + +"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 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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Ah Sing's bland and placid face remained expressionless as a carved +god's. But he left the glass stand, untasted, beside him. + +The _Coryander's_ 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. Peter Gross breathed +the heavy air with a smile of reminiscent pleasure and dropped another +notch into the chair. + +"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." + +Back of the curtain of fat through which they peered, Ah Sing's oblique +eyes quivered a trifle as they watched the sailor keenly. + +"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?" + +Ah Sing gravely cudgeled his memory. + +"None of your men," he assured, "was here." + +Peter Gross's face fell. + +"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." + +"None your men here," Ah Sing repeated gutturally. + +Peter Gross rumpled his tousled hair in perplexity. + +"We-el," he drawled unhappily, "if those chaps 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?" + +"Two men off schooner _Marianna_," Ah Sing replied in his same thick +monotone. "One man, steamer _Callee-opie_. Good strong man. Work hard." + +"You stole 'em, I s'pose?" Peter Gross asked pleasantly. + +Ah Sing's heavy jowls waggled in gentle negation. + +"No stealum man," he denied quietly. "Him belly sick. Come here, get +well. Allie big, strong man." + +"How much a head?" + +"Twlenty dlolla." + +"F. O. B. the _Coryander_ and no extra charges?" + +Ah Sing's inscrutable face screwed itself into a maze of unreadable +wrinkles and lines. + +"Him eat heap," he announced. "Five dlolla more for board." + +"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." + +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. + +"See that ring, Ah Sing?" he asked. "I got that down to Mauritius. What +d'ye think it's worth?" + +Ah Sing's long, claw-like fingers groped avariciously toward the ring. +His tiny, fat-encased eyes gleamed with cupidity. + +With a quick, cat-like movement, Peter Gross gripped one of the +Chinaman's hands. + +"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. + +"No! No!" Ah Sing shrieked pig-like squeals of terror. + +"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?" + +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. + +Peter Gross shoved the table and Ah Sing violently back and leaped to +his feet. + +"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. + +"I'll pay for the chair," Peter Gross declared, jerking his men to their +feet and shoving them down the steps. + +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. + +"Ah Sing, I'll take you first," he shouted. + +The screen separating them from the adjoining portico was violently +pushed aside. + +"Ah Sing!" exclaimed a sharp, authoritative voice. + +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. + +"Is it thus you observe our laws, Ah Sing?" Van Schouten demanded +coldly. + +Ah Sing licked his lips. "Light of the sun--" he began, but the governor +interrupted shortly: + +"The magistrate will hear your explanations." His eagle eyes looked +penetratingly upon Peter Gross, who looked steadfastly back. + +"Sailor, you threatened to poison this man," the governor accused +harshly, indicating Ah Sing. + +"Your excellency, that was bluff," Peter Gross replied. "The ring is as +harmless as your excellency's own." + +Van Schouten's eyes twinkled. + +"What is your name, sailor, and your ship?" he demanded. + +"Peter Gross, your excellency, first mate of the barkentine _Coryander_ +of Boston, now lying in your excellency's harbor of Batavia." + +"Ah Sing," Van Schouten rasped sternly, "if these drunken louts are not +aboard their ship by nightfall, you go to the coffee-fields." + +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: + +"Your excellency shall be obeyed." He salaamed to the ground. + +Van Schouten glared at Peter Gross. + +"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 _paleis_ within the hour." + +"I shall be there, your excellency," Peter Gross promised. + +The governor shifted his frown to Ah Sing. + +"As for you, Ah Sing, I have heard many evil reports of this place," he +said. "Let me hear no more." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +PETER GROSS IS NAMED RESIDENT + + +"Sailor, the penalty for threatening the life of any citizen is penal +servitude on the state's coffee-plantations." + +The governor's voice rang harshly, and he scowled across the big table +in his cabinet-room at the _Coryander's_ mate sitting opposite him. His +hooked nose and sharp-pointed chin with its finely trimmed Van Dyke +beard jutted forward rakishly. + +"I ask no other justice than your excellency's own sense of equity +suggests," Peter Gross replied quietly. + +"H'mm!" the governor hummed. He looked at the _Coryander's_ mate keenly +for a few moments through half-closed lids. Suddenly he said: + +"And what if I should appoint you a resident, sailor?" + +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. + +"Your excellency is in earnest?" + +"I do not jest on affairs of state, Mynheer Gross. What is your +answer?" + +Peter Gross paused. "Your excellency overwhelms me--" he began, but Van +Schouten cut him short. + +"Enough! When I have work to do I choose the man who I think can do it. +Then you accept?" + +"Your excellency, to my deep regret I must most respectfully decline." + +A look of blank amazement spread over the governor's face. Then his eyes +blazed ominously. + +"Decline! Why?" he roared. + +"For several reasons," Peter Gross replied with disarming mildness. "In +the first place I am under contract with Captain Threthaway of the +_Coryander_--" + +"I will arrange that with your captain," the governor broke in. + +"In the second place I am neither a soldier nor a politician--" + +"That is for me to consider," the governor retorted. + +"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." + +"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor exclaimed. "I thought you were a +freeholder here." + +"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." + +"How long have you owned that land?" + +"For nearly seven years." + +The governor stroked his beard. "You talk Holland like a Hollander, +Mynheer Gross," he observed. + +"My mother was of Dutch descent," Peter Gross explained. "I learned the +language from her." + +"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." + +"I don't care to surrender my birthright." Peter Gross negatived +quietly. + +"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. + +"The offer is tempting and the honor great," Peter Gross acknowledged +quietly. "But I can not forget I was born an American." + +Van Schouten leaned back in his chair with a look of astonishment. + +"You refuse?" he asked incredulously. + +"I am sorry, your excellency!" Peter Gross's tone was unmistakably firm. + +"You refuse?" the governor repeated, still unbelieving. +"Eight--thousand--guilders! And a land grant that will make you rich for +life!" + +"I am an American, and American I shall stay." + +The governor's eyes sparkled with admiration. + +"By the beard of Orange!" he exclaimed, "it is no wonder you Yankees +have sucked the best blood of the world into your country." He leaned +forward confidentially. + +"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 +_gouverneur-generaal_. 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?" + +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). + +"To what province would you appoint me?" Peter Gross asked slowly. + +The governor hesitated. With the air of a poker player forced to show +his hand he confessed: + +"It is a difficult post, mynheer, and needs a strong man as resident. It +is the residency of Bulungan, Borneo." + +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. + +Peter Gross rose abruptly, leaped for the door, 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. + +"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed, smacking his lips. "Chi Wung, you +peerless, priceless servant, how did you guess our needs?" + +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. + +"I was about to say, your excellency," he murmured, "that Bulungan has +not a happy reputation." + +"It needs a strong man to rule it," the governor acknowledged, running +his glance across Peter Gross's broad shoulders in subtle compliment. + +"Those who have held the post of resident there found early graves." + +"You are young, vigorous. You have lived here long enough to know how to +escape the fevers." + +"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." + +The governor glanced at Peter Gross's strong face and stalwart form +regretfully. + +"Your refusal is final?" he asked. + +"On the contrary, if your excellency will meet one condition, I accept," +Peter Gross replied. + +The governor put his glass down sharply and stared at the sailor. + +"You accept this post?" he demanded. + +"Upon one condition, yes!" + +"What is that condition?" + +"That I be allowed a free hand." + +"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. + +"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. + +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: + +"Your excellency, let me tell you the story of Bulungan." + +The governor's face showed surprise. "Proceed," he directed. + +"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 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 +_controlleur_. 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. + +"_Lieve hemel_, no!" Van Schouten cried. "Van Scheltema and Cupido died +of the fevers." + +"So it was reported to your excellency," Peter Gross replied gravely. "I +tell you the facts." + +The governor's thin, spiked jaw shot out like a vicious thorn and his +teeth clicked. + +"Go on," he directed sharply. + +"For a year there was neither resident nor _controlleur_ 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. Lieutenant 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." + +The governor's eyes popped in amazement. "How do you know this?" he +exclaimed, but Peter Gross ignored the question. + +"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." + +"He was a suicide!" the governor exclaimed, his face ashen. "They +brought me a note in his own handwriting." + +"In which it was stated that he killed himself because he felt he had +lost your excellency's confidence?" + +"You know that, too?" Van Schouten whispered huskily. + +"Your excellency has suffered remorse without cause," Peter Gross +declared quietly. "The note is a forgery." + +The governor's hands gripped the edge of the table. + +"You can prove that?" he cried. + +"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." + +The governor gazed at Peter Gross intently. A conflict of emotions, +amazement, unbelief, and hope were expressed on his face. + +"Why should I believe you?" he demanded fiercely. + +Peter Gross's face hardened. The sternness of the magistrate was on his +brow as he replied: + +"Your excellency remembers the schooner _Tetrina_, 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." + +The governor rose. Decision was written on his brow. + +"Meet us here to-night, Mynheer Gross," he said. "There is much to +discuss with Mynheer Sachsen before you leave. God grant you may be the +instrument of His eternal justice." Peter Gross raised a hand of +warning. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +KOYALA'S PRAYER + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"There will be no chaetodon sold at the _visschersmarkt_ (fishmart) +to-day," he observed. "Kismet!" + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"The monsoon has failed again. Bunungan will stay in his huts to-day." + +"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. + +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 _controlleur's_ 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. + +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 _controlleur's_ 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-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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +An hour passed before Cho Seng reappeared on 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. + +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. + +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 route until he came to a +clearing under the shade of a huge banyan tree whose aërial 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." + +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. + +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. + +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 aërial 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. 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. + +"Good-morning, Cho Seng," the woman greeted demurely. + +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. + +"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. + +"Cho Seng here," he announced. "What for um you wantee me?" He spoke +huskily; a physician would instantly have suspected he was tubercular. + +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. + +"Cho Seng," she pouted, "you have not even looked at me. Am I so ugly +that you cannot bear to see me?" + +"What for um you wantee me?" Cho Seng reiterated. 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. + +Koyala laughed mischievously. + +"I asked you a question, Cho Seng," she pointed out. + +The Chinaman salaamed again, even lower than before. His face was +imperturbable as he repeated in the same mild, disarming accents: + +"What for um you wantee me?" + +Koyala made a moue. + +"That isn't what I asked you, Cho Seng," she exclaimed petulantly. + +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. + +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 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. + +"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: + +"--then we will talk of other things. What has happened at the residency +during the past week?" + +Cho Seng shot a furtive glance upward. "What for um?" he asked +cautiously. + +"Oh, everything." Koyala spoke with pretended indifference. "Tell me, +does your _baas_, the _mynheer_, ever mention me?" + +"Mynheer Muller belly much mad, belly much drink _jenever_ (gin), belly +much say 'damn-damn, Cho Seng,'" the Chinaman grunted. + +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. + +"There's nobody near to hear us," she asserted lightly. + +"Mebbe him in bush," Cho Seng warned. + +"Not when the southeast monsoon ceases to blow," Koyala negatived. +"Mynheer Muller loves his bed too well when our Bornean sun scorches us +like to-day. But tell me what your master has been doing?" + +She snuggled into a more comfortable position on the root. Cho Seng +folded his hands over his stomach. + +"Morning him sleep," he related laconically. "Him eat. Him speakee +_orang kaya_, Wobanguli, drink _jenever_. Him speakee Kapitein Van +Slyck, drink _jenever_. 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.'" + +"Does he ever mention me?" Koyala asked. Her eyes twinkled coquettishly. + +"Plenty say nothing," Cho Seng replied. + +Koyala's face fell. "He doesn't speak of me at all?" + +Cho Seng shot a sidelong glance at her. + +"Him no speakee Koyala, him plenty drink _jenever_, plenty say +'damn-damn, Cho Seng.'" He looked up stealthily to see the effect of his +words. + +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. + +"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." + +"Kapitein Van Slyck him no speakee Koyala," the Chinaman declared. + +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?" + +The Chinaman was meekness incarnate as he reiterated: + +"Him no speakee Koyala." + +Displeasure gathered on Koyala's face like a storm-cloud. She leaped +suddenly from the aërial 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: + +"Cho Seng, you are the eyes and the ears of Ah Sing in Bulungan--" + +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. + +"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. + +"You are the eyes and ears of Ah Sing in Bulungan," 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 _orang kayas_ of the sea Dyaks of Bulungan, whereby the children of +the sea sail in the proas of Ah Sing when the _Hanu Token_ come to +Koyala on the night winds and tell her to bid them go." + +The Chinaman glanced anxiously about the jungle, fearful that a swaying +cluster of cane might reveal the presence of an eavesdropper. + +"S-ss-st," he hissed. + +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." + +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: + +"Cho Seng tellee Mynheer Muller Koyala go hide in bush--big _baas_ in +Batavia say muchee damn-damn, give muchee gold for Koyala." + +The displeasure in Koyala's flushed face mounted to anger. + +"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." + +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?" + +Cho Seng met her heat with Oriental calm. + +"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." + +"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: + +"_Kapitein_ him bang-bang boat come see Mynheer Muller _namiddag_," +(afternoon) he said, indicating the sun's position an hour before +sunset. "Mynheer Muller tellee Koyala _voormiddag_" (forenoon). He +pointed to the sun's morning position in the eastern sky. + +"That is true," Koyala assented thoughtfully, and paused. "How did you +hear of it?" + +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. + +"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?" + +A startled lift of the Chinaman's chin assured her that her guess was +correct. Another thought followed swift on the heels of the first. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +against his knees ceased and he listened eagerly, with face half-lifted. + +"_Hanu Token, Hanu Token_, 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. + +"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--" + +A trembling seized Cho Seng. + +"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--" + +A horrible groan burst from the Chinaman. He staggered to his feet. + +"_Neen, neen, neen, neen_," he cried hoarsely in an agonized negative. +"Cho Seng tellee Bintang Burung--" + +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 he was there, why she was where she was. +The Chinaman, made voluble through fear, chattered: + +"Him junk say big _baas gouverneur_ speakee muchee damn-damn; no gambir, +no rice, no copra, no coffee from Bulungan one-two year; sendee new +resident bimeby belly quick." + +Koyala's face paled. + +"Send a new resident?" she asked incredulously. "What of Mynheer +Muller?" + +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. + +"Him chop-chop," he announced laconically. + +"They will kill him?" Koyala cried. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +Koyala flushed hotly. Then her nose and chin rose high with pride. + +"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 _orang blanda_" (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 _Hanu Token_ that call +her, call her--" + +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. + +With a sigh she lowered the point of the kris and slipped it back into +its sheath. + +"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." + +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: + +"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 +only what his white father made him, and the _orang blanda_ must pay!" +Her lips contracted grimly. "Ay, pay to the last drop of blood! You will +be true to him, Cho Seng?" + +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. + +"_Ja, ja_," he pledged. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"_Hanu Token, Hanu Token_, send a young man here to rule Bulungan," she +prayed. "Send a strong man, send a vain man, with a passion for fair +women. 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, _Hanu Token_, for +the wrongs done me!" + +With a low sob she fled inland through the cane. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SACHSEN'S WARNING + + +Electric tapers were burning dimly in Governor-General Van Schouten's +sanctum at the _paleis_ 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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Then I must fill my contract, your excellency," Peter Gross replied. + +Van Schouten frowned with annoyance. He was not accustomed to being +crossed. + +"When will you be able to take over the administration of Bulungan, +_mynheer_?" + +Peter Gross's brow puckered thoughtfully. "In three weeks--let us say +thirty days, your excellency." + +"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor exclaimed. "We need you there at +once." + +"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." + +"You can have the pick of my troops." + +"I should prefer to choose my own men, your excellency," Peter Gross +replied. + +"Eh? How so, _mynheer_?" The governor's eyes glinted with suspicion. + +"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?" + +Van Schouten's face cleared. + +"We shall discuss that later, _mynheer_. You will be ready to go the +first of June, then?" + +"On the first of June I shall await your excellency's pleasure here at +Batavia," Peter Gross agreed. + +"_Nu!_ that is settled!" The governor gave a grunt of satisfaction and +squared himself before the table. His expression became sternly +autocratic. + +"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 which we thought were known only to ourselves and to our privy +council. But, _mynheer_, 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." + +He nodded curtly at his secretary. + +"You may proceed, Sachsen." + +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. + +"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. + +"And let me thank you, Vrind Sachsen," he replied. "It was not hard to +guess who brought my name to his excellency's attention." + +"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. + +"To have earned your good opinion is reward enough in itself," Peter +Gross asserted. + +Sachsen's odd smile, that seemed to find a philosophic humor in +everything, deepened. + +"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, _vrind_ (friend). Do you believe that?" + +"Ay," Peter Gross assented soberly. + +"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. + +"_Nu!_ 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." + +Again the quaintly humorous quirk of the lips. + +"If Peter Gross knew the archipelago half so well as his good friend +Sachsen he would be a lucky man," Peter Gross retorted spiritedly. + +Sachsen's face became suddenly grave. + +"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--" + +He paused. The clear gray eyes of Peter Gross met his questioningly. + +"--You are young, Vrind Pieter." + +The governor rose abruptly and plucked down 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. + +"How old are you, Vrind Pieter?" Sachsen asked gently. + +"Twenty-five, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied. There was a pronounced +emphasis on the "_mynheer_." + +"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." + +"That is a misfortune which only time can remedy," Peter Gross replied +drily. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 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 _zeeman_ (seaman) out of you. Do you +remember?" + +"I shall never forget!" Peter Gross's voice was vibrant with emotion. + +"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?" + +Peter Gross impulsively reached his hand across the table. Sachsen +grasped it and held it. + +"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?" + +"Speak, Sachsen!" + +"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. + +"Vrind Pieter, you said a little while ago that old Sachsen knows the +people who live in these _kolonien_ (colonies). His knowledge is +small--" + +Peter Gross made a gesture of dissent, but Sachsen did not let him +interrupt. + +"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 +_controlleur_, then as resident in Celebes, in Sumatra, in Java, and +finally as secretary to the _gouverneur_, 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!" + +Peter Gross's brow knit with a puzzled frown. "What do you mean, +Sachsen?" he demanded. + +Sachsen smoothed back his thinning white hair. + +"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." + +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. + +Sachsen leaned forward, his eyes searching his protégé's. + +"Have you ever loved a woman, Pieter?" he countered softly. + +Peter Gross appeared to be choking. The veins in his forehead distended. + +"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?" + +A grimly humorous smile lit the governor's stern visage. + +"'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?" + +The little flash of passion left Peter Gross's face, but the puzzled +frown remained. + +"Koyala," he repeated thoughtfully. "It seems to me I have heard the +name, but I cannot recall how or when." + +"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 _Bintang Burung_. Ha! I see you know her now." + +"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." + +"You have seen her?" Sachsen asked. + +Peter Gross's eyes twinkled reminiscently. "Ay, that I have." + +"Tell me about it," Sachsen urged, with an imperceptible gesture to the +governor to say nothing. He leaned forward expectantly. + +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 _Mary Dietrich_. +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 _balas_ (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 +_bitchara_ first. The next morning I began loading operations, while +McCloud entertained the _orang kaya_, Wolang, with a bottle of gin. + +"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." + +The governor took his pipe out of his mouth and looked up with interest. + +"The next minute the mob of Dyaks parted as though cut with a scythe. +Down the lane came a woman, a white woman." + +He turned to the secretary. "You have seen her, Sachsen?" + +"_Ja_, Pieter." + +"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: + +"'You are English? Go back to your ship, now; don't wait a minute, or +you will leave your heads here.' + +"'Madam,' I said, 'the lad was hasty, but meant no harm. It will not +happen again. I will make the lady a present.' + +"She turned a look on me that fairly withered me. '_You_ 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?' + +"McCloud came running up with Chief Wolang. 'What's this?' he blustered, +but Koyala only pointed to the sea and said the one word: + +"'Go!' + +"McCloud spoke to Wolang, but at a nod from Koyala the chief gave an +order to his followers. Fifty Dyaks fitted poisoned arrows into their +_sumpitans_. McCloud had good judgment; he knew when it was no use to +_bitchara_ 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." + +"She is beautiful?" Sachsen suggested softly. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 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." + +He checked himself. "Here I'm preaching. I beg your pardon, your +excellency." + +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. + +"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?" + +Peter Gross's reply was prompt and decisive. + +"Vrind Sachsen, if she had been a hag I'd have thought no different." + +"Search your heart, Vrind Pieter. Is it not because she was young and +comely, a woman unafraid, that you remember her?" + +"Women are nothing to me," Peter Gross retorted irritably. "But right +is right, and wrong is wrong, whether in Batavia or Bulungan." + +Sachsen shook his head. + +"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." + +One eyebrow arched the merest trifle in the direction of the governor. +Then Sachsen continued: + +"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?" + +Peter Gross shrugged his shoulders. + +"I am at your service, Sachsen." + +"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?" + +Pieter Gross swallowed hard. Words seemed to be struggling to his lips, +but he kept them back. His teeth were pressed together tightly, the +silence became tense. + +"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." + +Peter Gross pulled his chair nearer the table and leaned forward. His +face glowed with an intense earnestness. + +"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 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!" + +He raked his fingers through his hair and stared savagely at the wall. + +"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--" + +He checked himself. "Common sense and a little elemental justice go a +long, long way in dealing with savages," he observed. + +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. + +"Look you here, Mynheer Gross," he exclaimed, "I want no sympathy for +that she-devil from my resident." + +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. + +"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 +_orang blandas_ with a hate that the fires of hell could not burn out, +but she is subtler than the serpent that taught Mother Eve. She has +bewitched my _controlleur_; 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." + +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. + +"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--" + +Van Schouten gave assent by picking up his pipe and closing his teeth +viciously on the mouthpiece. + +Sachsen promptly addressed Peter Gross. + +"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." + +Peter Gross looked up distrustfully. Van Schouten, too, evinced his +surprise by taking the pipe from his mouth. + +"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 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?" + +"Ay, of course," Peter Gross acknowledged, a trifle bewildered. "But--" + +"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." + +His voice took a sharper turn. + +"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?" + +"That is not the question," Peter Gross began, but Sachsen interrupted. + +"It is the question. It was the sin of the parent in both cases. Leveque +sinned; his daughter, Koyala, suffers. Parents sin everywhere, their +children must suffer." + +Peter Gross stared at the wall thoughtfully. + +"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 _sumpitans_ +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." + +Peter Gross bowed his head. + +"God help me, I will," he vowed. + +"But see that she does not seduce you, Vrind Pieter," the old man +entreated earnestly. "You 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." + +Sachsen rose. There were tears in his eyes as he looked fondly down at +the young man that owed so much to him. + +"Pieter," he said, "old Sachsen will pray for you. I must leave you now, +Pieter; the governor desires to talk to you." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE PIRATE LEAGUE + + +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. + +"_Nu_, 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, _Prins +Lodewyk_, and the cutter, _Katrina_, both of which I place at your +disposal." + +"I do not need a thousand men, your excellency," Peter Gross replied +quietly. + +"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." + +Peter Gross frowned reflectively at the table-top. + +"I would not need five hundred men, your excellency," he announced. + +The governor's smile broadened. "You know 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, _mynheer_?" + +"I will not need three hundred men, your excellency," Peter Gross +declared. + +Van Schouten leaned back in surprise. + +"Well, Mynheer Gross, how large a force will you need?" + +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: + +"Your excellency, I shall need about twenty-five men." + +Van Schouten stared at him in astonishment. + +"Twenty-five men, Mynheer Gross!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?" + +"Twenty-five men, men like I have in mind, will be all I will need, your +excellency," Peter Gross assured gravely. + +Van Schouten edged his chair nearer. "Mynheer Gross, do you understand +me correctly?" he asked 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." + +"Under no other conditions would I accept your excellency's +appointment," Peter Gross declared. + +"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?" + +"With good fortune, bring peace to Bulungan," Peter Gross replied +confidently. + +The governor leaned aggressively across the table and asked the one-word +pointed question: + +"How?" + +Peter Gross uncrossed his legs and tugged gravely at his chin. + +"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--" + +"Damned thieving, murdering, head-hunting scoundrels!" the governor +growled savagely. + +"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 _blanken_ (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." + +"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." + +"That is where your excellency and I must disagree," Peter Gross +asserted quietly. + +"Ha!" the governor exclaimed incredulously. "What do you say, Mynheer +Gross?" + +"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?" + +A frown gathered on the governor's face. His thin lips curled, and his +bristly mane rose belligerently. + +"Proceed," he snapped. + +Peter Gross rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward the +governor. + +"Your excellency," he began, "let it be understood 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." + +Van Schouten nodded curtly. + +"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." + +The governor smiled derisively. + +"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." + +He tapped a gong. In a moment Sachsen bustled in. + +"Sachsen," the governor said, "Kapitein Van Slyck's report on the +pirates of the straits, if you please." + +Sachsen bowed and withdrew. + +"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. + +"But it will not convince you, eh, _mynheer_?" he challenged. He smiled. +"You Yankees are an obstinate breed--almost as stubborn as we Dutch." + +"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." + +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." + +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: + +"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 +_orang kayas_ may be friendly with them, but as for there being any +organization--bah! it is too ridiculous to even discuss it." + +Peter Gross's lips pressed a little tighter. + +"Your excellency," he replied with perfect equanimity, "you have your +opinion and I have mine. 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 _paleis_ 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." + +Van Schouten stared at Peter Gross in amazement and incredulity. + +"Mynheer Gross," he finally exclaimed, "this is nonsense!" + +Peter Gross's eyes flashed. "Your excellency," he retorted, "it is the +truth." + +"What proofs have you?" the governor demanded. + +"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." + +"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, _mynheer_?" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You think twenty-five men can do all that?" the governor asked +doubtfully. + +"The men I shall choose can, your excellency. They will be men whom I +can trust absolutely, who have no interests except the service of Peter +Gross." + +"Where will you find them, _mynheer_?" + +"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." + +The governor looked at his new lieutenant long and thoughtfully. + +"Do as you deem best, _mynheer_. 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?" + +"There is one more request I wish to make of your excellency," Peter +Gross replied. + +"And that is--" + +"That your excellency cancel the reward offered for the arrest of +Leveque's daughter." + +Van Schouten stroked his brow with a gesture of infinite weariness. + +"You make strange requests, _mynheer_," he observed. "Yet I am moved to +trust you. What you ask shall be done." + +He rose to signify that the interview was at an end. "You may make your +requisitions through Sachsen, _mynheer_. God speed you and give you +wisdom beyond your years." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +MYNHEER MULLER WORRIES + + +Seated in a low-framed rattan chair on the broad veranda of his cottage, +Mynheer Hendrik Muller, _controlleur_, and acting resident of Bulungan, +awaited in perspiring impatience the appearance of his military +associate, Captain Gerrit Van Slyck. + +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 _mynheer_ 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. + +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. + +"When does your new resident arrive?" the visiting skipper had asked. + +"The new resident?" Muller returned blankly. "What new resident?" + +The skipper perceived that he was the bearer of unpleasant tidings and +diplomatically minimized the importance of his news. + +"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." + +"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. + +Van Slyck was putting the finishing touches to an exquisite toilet when +he received the message. + +"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 _bruinevels_ (brown-skins) get krissed he thinks the whole +province is going to flame into revolt." + +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 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 _mynheer the controlleur_ might forget his +self-respect and the dignity of his office. + +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. + +"Devil take the man, why doesn't he hurry?" the _controlleur_ swore. +With a peremptory gesture he signaled Van Slyck to make haste. + +"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." + +Deliberately turning his back on the _controlleur_, 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. + +"_Donder en bliksem! kapitein_, but you lie abed later every morning," +he growled. + +Van Slyck's thin lips curled with aristocratic scorn. + +"We cannot all be such conscientious public servants as you, _mynheer_," +he observed ironically. + +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. + +"Well, _kapitein, gij kebt gelijk_ (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--_kapitein_. _Ja!_ 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 _controlleur_. _Jawel!_" + +Recollection of the skipper's unpleasant news recurred to him. His face +darkened like a tropic sky before a cloudburst. + +"And what is my reward, _kapitein_? What is my reward? To have some +_Amsterdamsche papegaai_ (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." + +Van Slyck's cynical face lit with a sudden interest. + +"You have heard from Ah Sing?" he inquired. + +"Ah Sing? No. _Drommel noch toe!_" 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 _rumah makan_. And we sit here and know nothing. +That is the kind of friends we have in Batavia." + +Van Slyck, apprehensive that the impending change might affect him, +speculated swiftly how much the _controlleur_ knew. + +"It is strange that Ah Sing hasn't let us know," he remarked. + +"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. _Ja!_ I have even put money into his ventures, +and this is how he treats me." + +"Damnably, I must say," Van Slyck agreed sympathetically. "That is, if +he knows." + +"If he knows, _mynheer kapitein_? Of course he knows. Has he not +_agenten_ in every corner of this archipelago? Has he not a spy in the +_paleis_ itself?" + +"He should have sent us word," Van Slyck agreed. "Unless _mynheer_, the +new resident, is one of us. Who did you say it is, _mynheer_?" + +"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." + +Van Slyck's face fell. He had hoped that the _controlleur_ knew at least +the identity of the new executive of the province. Having extracted all +the information Muller had, he dropped the cloak of sympathy and +remarked with cool insolence: + +"Since you don't know, I think you had better make it your business to +find out, _mynheer_." + +Muller looked at him doubtfully. "You might make an effort also, +_kapitein_," he suggested. "You have friends in Batavia. It is your +concern as well as mine, a new resident would ruin our business." + +"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." + +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. + +"What--what do you mean, _kapitein_?" he asked hesitantly. + +"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, +_mynheer_." + +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. + +"_Kapitein_--you mean he might come to an unhappy end on the way?" he +faltered. + +"Why not?" Van Slyck concentrated his attention on his cigar. + +"_Neen, neen_, 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." + +Van Slyck turned his attention from the landscape to the _controlleur_. +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 +_controlleur_. + +"Well, _mynheer_," Van Slyck observed at length, "you are getting +remarkably thin-skinned all of a sudden." + +He laughed sardonically. Muller winced and replied hastily: + +"I have been thinking, _kapitein_, 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--" + +"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." + +Muller's agitation became more pronounced. + +"But we must not let it go on, _kapitein_," 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?" + +"We'll be hung," Van Slyck declared succinctly. + +Muller's fingers leaped in an involuntary frantic gesture to his throat, +as though he felt cords tightening around his windpipe. His face paled. + +"_Lieve hemel, kapitein_, don't speak of such things," he gasped. + +"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." + +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. + +"You can think of no reason why his excellency should be offended with +us, _kapitein_?" he ventured anxiously. + +The _controlleur's_ 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. + +"No, _mynheer_, I cannot conceive why the governor should want to get +rid of so valuable a public 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." + +"_Donder en bliksem_," 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, +_kapitein_. 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?" + +The sardonic smile flashed across Van Slyck's face again. + +"Quite true, _mynheer_. 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." + +He glanced quizzically at his associate. + +"By the way, _mynheer_," he observed, "you ought to know something about +that. I understand you get a per cent on it." + +"I?" Muller exclaimed, and looked affrightedly about him. "I, +_kapitein_?" + +"Oh, yes you do," Van Slyck asserted airily. "You've got money invested +with Ah Sing in two 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." + +He looked at Muller meaningly. There was menace in his eyes and menace +in his voice as he announced: + +"I'm only mentioning this, _mynheer_, 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!" + +For once cupidity overcame Muller's fear of the sharp-witted cynical +soldier. + +"_Wat de drommel_," he roared, "do you expect me to pay all, _kapitein_, +all? Not in a thousand years! If there must be a division you shall give +up your per cent as well as I, _stuiver_ for _stuiver_, _gulden_ for +_gulden_!" + +A hectic spot glowed in each of Van Slyck's cheeks, and his eyes +glittered. Muller's anger rose. + +"Ah Sing shall decide between us," he cried heatedly. "You cannot rob me +in that way, _kapitein_." + +Van Slyck turned on his associate with an oath. "Ah Sing be damned. +We'll divide as I say, or--" + +The pause was more significant than words. Muller's ruddy face paled. +Van Slyck tapped a forefinger significantly on the arm of his chair. + +"Just remember, if the worst comes to the worst, there's this one +difference between you and me, _mynheer_. I'm not afraid to die, and +you--are!" He smiled. + +Muller's breath came thickly, and he stared fascinatedly 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: + +"See that you remember these things, _mynheer_, when our next accounting +comes." + +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: + +"I hear you have a chance to pick up some prize money." + +Muller looked up with interest. "So, _kapitein_!" he exclaimed with +forced jocularity. "Have you found a place where guilders grow on +trees?" + +"Almost as good as that," Van Slyck replied, playing his fish. + +Finesse and indirection were not Muller's forte. "Well, tell us about +it, _kapitein_," he demanded bluntly. + +Van Slyck's eyes twinkled. + +"Catch Koyala," he replied. + +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. + +"You are too clever this morning, _kapitein_," he snarled. "Let me +remind you that this is your duty. The _controlleur_ sits as judge, he +does not hunt the accused." + +Van Slyck laughed. + +"And let me remind you, _mynheer_, 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, _mynheer_." + +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. + +"How did you hear of it?" he demanded. + +"Not from you, _mynheer_," Van Slyck mocked. "I really do not remember +who told me." (As a matter of fact it was Wang Fu, the Chinese +merchant.) + +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: + +"Well, _kapitein_, 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." + +"The argus pheasant," Van Slyck observed, "is rarely shot. It must be +trapped." + +"_Nu, kapitein_, that is a chance for you to distinguish yourself," +Muller replied heartily, confident that Van Slyck could never land +Koyala. + +Van Slyck flecked the ash from his cigar and looked at the glowing coal +thoughtfully. + +"It seems to me that you might be of material assistance, _mynheer_," he +observed. + +"In what way?" + +"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." + +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. + +"_Kapitein!_" he gasped. + +Van Slyck looked at him increduously, for he had not dreamed Muller's +feelings ran so deeply. + +"You think--she--sometimes thinks of me?" + +Van Slyck's nimble wits were calculating the value to him of this new +weakness of the _controlleur_. He foresaw infinite possibilities, +Muller in love would be clay in his hands. + +"I am positive, _mynheer_," he assured with the utmost gravity. + +"_Kapitein_, do not make a mistake," Muller entreated. His voice +trembled and broke. "Are you absolutely sure?" + +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. + +"I am certain, _mynheer_," he assured. + +"Tell me, _kapitein_, what makes you think so?" Muller begged. + +Van Slyck forced himself to calmness and a judicial attitude. + +"You know I have seen something of women, _mynheer_," 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." + +He ran his eye over Muller's form in assumed admiration. + +"You have a figure any woman might admire, _mynheer_. 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." + +"Say you so, _kapitein_!" Muller cried ecstatically. + +"Absolutely," Van Slyck assured. His eyes narrowed. The devilish humor +incarnate in him could not resist the temptation to harrow this tortured +soul. Watching Muller closely, he inquired: + +"Then I can expect you to spread the net, _mynheer_?" + +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. + +"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." + +The door of the _controlleur's_ dwelling opened. Muller leaped back, and +Van Slyck's hand leaped to his holster. + +"I am here, Kapitein Van Slyck," a clear, silvery voice announced +coolly. + +Koyala stood in the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +KOYALA'S WARNING + + +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. + +"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, _kapitein_?" + +"Koyala!" Muller gasped huskily. His big body was trembling with such +violence that the veranda shook. + +"This is my affair, _mynheer_," Koyala declared coldly, without removing +her eyes from Van Slyck. She placed herself directly in front of the +captain and crossed her wrists. + +"If you have no irons, use a cord, _kapitein_," she taunted. "But bind +fast. The Argus Pheasant is not easily held captive." + +Van Slyck thrust her roughly aside. + +"Let's have done with this foolishness," he exclaimed bruskly. + +"What folly, _mynheer kapitein_?" Koyala demanded frigidly. + +"You had no business eavesdropping. If you heard something unpleasant +you have only yourself to blame." + +Koyala's eyes sparkled with anger. + +"Eavesdropping, _kapitein_? I came here with a message of great +importance to _mynheer_ the _controlleur_. Even the birds cock their +ears to listen when they hear the hunter approach, _kapitein_." + +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. + +"You will forgive me, will you not, _mynheer_, for taking such liberties +in your house?" + +"Of--of course," Muller stammered. + +"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." + +Van Slyck caught the emphasis on the word "friend" and smiled +sardonically. + +"Well, _Sister_ Koyala," he remarked mockingly, "if you and _Brother_ +Muller will be seated we will hear your important message." + +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 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. + +"Your message, my dear Koyala," he prompted. He used the term of +endearment lingeringly, with a quick side glance at Muller, but the +_controlleur_ was oblivious to both. + +"The message is for Mynheer Muller," Koyala announced icily. + +"Ah? So?" Van Slyck swung the leg free and rose. "Then I am not needed. +I bid the dear bother and sister adieux." + +He made an elaborate French bow and started to leave. The embarrassed +Muller made a hasty protest. + +"Ho, _kapitein_!" he cried, "do not leave us. _Donder en bliksem!_ the +message may be for us both. Who is it from, Koyala?" + +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. + +"It was from Ah Sing," Koyala announced. + +Van Slyck's indecision vanished. He stepped briskly back on the porch. + +"From Ah Sing?" he exclaimed. "Mynheer Muller and I were just discussing +his affairs. Does it concern the new resident we are to have?" + +"It does," Koyala acknowledged. + +"Who is it?" Muller and the captain cried in the same breath. + +Koyala glanced vindictively at Van Slyck. + +"You are sure that you will not sell me to him, _mynheer kapitein_?" + +Van Slyck scowled. "Tell us about the resident," he directed curtly. + +Koyala's eyes sparkled maliciously. + +"The new resident, _mynheer kapitein_, 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." + +Van Slyck bit his lip, but ignored the thrust. + +"Then he's one of us?" he demanded bruskly. + +"On the contrary, he is a most dangerous enemy," Koyala contradicted. + +"_Lieve hemel_, don't keep us waiting," Muller cried impatiently. "Who +is it, Koyala?" + +"A sailor, _mynheer_," Koyala announced. + +"A sailor?" Van Slyck exclaimed incredulously. "Who?" + +"Mynheer Peter Gross, of Batavia." + +Van Slyck and Muller stared at each other blankly, each vainly trying to +recall ever having heard the name before. + +"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross, he must be a newcomer," Van Slyck remarked. +"I have not heard of him before, have you, _mynheer_?" + +"There is no one by that name in the colonial service," Muller declared, +shaking his head. "You say he is of Batavia, Koyala?" + +"Of Batavia, _mynheer_, but by birth and upbringing, and everything +else, a Yankee." + +"A Yankee?" her hearers chorused incredulously. + +"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." + +Van Slyck broke into a roar of laughter. + +"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." + +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. + +"Pieter Gross, Pieter Gross," he repeated thoughtfully. "Where have I +heard that name before?" + +"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." + +"_Donder en bliksem._ I knew I had reason to remember that name," Muller +cried in alarm. "We have no Mynheer de Jonge to deal with this time, +_kapitein_. This Yankee is a fighter." + +"Good!" Van Slyck exclaimed with satisfaction. "We will give him his +bellyful. There will be plenty for him to do in the bush, eh, _mynheer_? +And if he gets too troublesome there are always ways of getting rid of +him." He raised his eyebrows significantly. + +"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, +_kapitein_." + +Van Slyck smiled cynically. + +"Humph, _mynheer_, 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?" + +"Evidently you don't know Mynheer Gross," Koyala retorted coldly. + +"Do you?" Van Slyck asked, quick as a flash. + +"I have seen him," Koyala acknowledged. "Once. It was at the mouth of +the Abbas River." She described the incident. + +"He is no fool," she concluded. "He is a strong man, and an able man, +one you will have to look out for." + +"And a devilish handsome young man, too, I'll wager," Van Slyck observed +maliciously with a sidelong glance at Muller. The _controlleur's_ ruddy +face darkened with a quick spasm of jealousy, at which the captain +chuckled. + +"Yes, a remarkably handsome man," Koyala replied coolly. "We need +handsome men in Bulungan, don't we, captain? Handsome white men?" + +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. + +"We do have a dearth of society here in Bulungan," he conceded. "Do you +find it so, too?" + +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, then she controlled +herself with a powerful effort and replied in a voice studiedly +reserved: + +"I do, _mynheer kapitein_, but one must expect to have a limited circle +when there are so few that can be trusted." + +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. + +"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? +_Donder en bliksem_, I won't, whatever the rest of you may do. +_Kapitein_, get your wits to work; what is the best way to get rid of +this Yankee?" + +Van Slyck looked at him in surprise. Then his quick wit instantly +guessed the reason for the outburst. + +"Well, _mynheer_," 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." + +"You are ready enough to scheme murders if there is a _gulden_ in it for +you, but you have no counsel for a friend, eh?" Muller snarled. "Let me +remind you, _kapitein_, that you are involved just as heavily as I." + +Van Slyck laughed in cynical good humor. + +"Let it never be said that a Van Slyck is so base as that, _mynheer_. +Supposing we put our heads together. In the first place, let us give +Koyala a chance to tell what she knows. Where did you get the news, +Koyala?" + +"That makes no difference, _mynheer kapitein_," Koyala rejoined coolly. +"I have my own avenues of information." + +Van Slyck frowned with annoyance. + +"When does he come here?" he inquired. + +"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." + +"_Donder en bliksem_, does Ah Sing know this?" Muller asked anxiously. + +Van Slyck's lips curled in cynical amusement at the inanity of the +question. + +"He knows," Koyala declared. + +"Of course he knows," Van Slyck added sarcastically. "The question is, +what is he going to do?" + +"I do not know," Koyala replied. "He can tell you that himself when he +comes here." + +"He's coming here?" Van Slyck asked quickly. + +"Yes." + +"When?" + +"I am not in Ah Sing's councils," Koyala declared coldly. + +"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?" + +"We will do what we think best," Muller observed grimly. + +Koyala looked at him steadily until his glance fell. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LONG ARM OF AH SING + + +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. + +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 remembered poignantly, had been salvaged from a +wreck. + +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. + +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. + +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 +adventurers 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"By the great Polar B'ar," Roaring Rory bellowed 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." + +"I'm not going to Bulungan to make war," Peter Gross explained mildly. + +Roaring Rory spat a huge cud of tobacco into a cuspidor six feet away, +the better to express his astonishment. + +"Then what in blazes are you goin' there for?" he roared. + +Peter Gross permitted himself one of his rare smiles. There was a +positive twinkle in his eyes as he replied: + +"To convince them I am their best friend." + +Roaring Rory's eyes opened wide. + +"Convince 'em--what?" he gasped. + +"That I am their friend." + +The old sea captain stared at his ex-mate. + +"You're jokin'," he declared. + +"I was never more serious in my life," Peter Gross assured gravely. + +"Then you're a damn' fool," Roaring Rory asserted. "Yes, sir, a damn' +fool. I didn't think it of ye, Peter." + +"It will take time, but I believe I see my way," 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. + +"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." + +"But this isn't getting me the man I need," Peter Gross pointed out. +"Can you recommend any one, captain?" + +Roaring Rory squared back in his chair. + +"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?" + +Peter Gross drew his chair a few inches nearer the captain's. + +"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." + +Roaring Rory grunted. "Ye don't want nothin', do ye? I'd recommend the +Angel Gabriel." + +"There is such a man," Peter Gross insisted. "There always is. You've +got to help me find him, captain." + +Rouse scratched his head profoundly and squinted hard. By and bye a big +grin overspread his features. + +"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." + +"That is the sort of a man I have been looking for," Peter Gross +observed with satisfaction. + +"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?" + +"I knew you wouldn't fail me, captain," Peter Gross replied warmly. +"I'll be here." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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 looked steadily in the direction that the sound came from, +but the somber shadows defied his searching glance. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 he tore +the claw-like fingers loose and shook the creature off. Simultaneously +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 "_wacht_" (police). +It was Roaring Rory. + +"Are you hurt?" the foremost asked as he approached. + +"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: + +"Quick, Paddy, lend a hand." + +Then came oblivion. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +CAPTAIN CARVER SIGNS + + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Captain Carver," Roaring Rory announced. "My old mate, Peter Gross, the +best man as ever served under me." + +The elder man stepped forward and clasped Peter Gross's hand. The latter +tried to rise, but Carver restrained him. + +"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. + +"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 _Gloucester Maid_." 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. + +"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." + +"I rather fancied it was you whom I have to thank for being here," Peter +Gross acknowledged warmly. "You were certainly just in time." + +"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." + +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." + +"I think you did," Peter Gross acknowledged with a twinkle. "But didn't +you fix our appointment for to-night?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I'll remember your advice, captain," Peter Gross assured. + +"Humph!" Roaring Rory grunted. "Well, Peter, is your head clear enough +to talk business?" + +"I think so," Peter Gross replied slowly. "Have you explained the matter +I came here to discuss?" + +"Summat, summat," Rouse grunted. "I leave the talking to you, Peter." + +"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." + +"My appointment is from the governor-general of the Netherlands East +Indies," Peter Gross stated. + +"Ah, yes." + +"I need a man to drill and lead twenty-five men, all of whom have had +some military training. I want a man who knows the Malays and their ways +and knows the bush." + +"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." + +"Have you any one dependent on you?" + +"I am a bachelor," Captain Carver replied. + +"Does twenty-five hundred a year appeal to you?" + +"That depends entirely on what services I should be expected to render." + +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. + +"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." + +Captain Carver was frowning. + +"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 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." + +"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." + +Carver stroked his chin in silence. + +"You know the country," he said. "If you have faith and feel you want +me, I'll go with you." + +"I'll have a lawyer make the contracts at once," Peter Gross replied. +"We can sign them to-morrow." + +"Can't you take me with you, too, Mr. Gross?" Paddy Rouse asked eagerly. + +Peter Gross looked at the lad. The boy's face was eloquent with +entreaty. + +"How old are you?" he asked. + +"Seventeen," came the halting acknowledgment. "But I've done a man's +work for a year. Haven't I, avunculus?" + +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." + +A flash of inspiration came to Peter Gross as he glanced at the boy's +tousled shock of fiery-red hair. + +"I'll take you on a private's pay," he said. "A thousand a year. Is that +satisfactory?" + +"I'm signed," Paddy whooped. "Hooray!" + + * * * * * + +When Peter Gross and his company left Tanjong Priok a fortnight later +Captain Rouse bade them a wistful good-bye at the wharf. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MYNHEER MULLER'S DREAM + + +The Dutch gun-boat _Prins Lodewyk_, 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. + +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. + +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. Responsibility was sitting +heavily upon his shoulders, for he now realized the magnitude of the +task he had so lightly assumed. + +Captain Carver joined him. "All's well, so far, Mr. Gross," he observed. + +Peter Gross let the remark stand without comment for a moment. "Ay, +all's well so far," he assented heavily. + +There was another pause. + +"Are we going ashore this afternoon?" Carver inquired. + +"That is my intention." + +"Then you'll want the boys to get their traps on deck. At what hour will +you want them?" + +"I think I shall go alone," Peter Gross replied quietly. + +Carver looked up quickly. "Not alone, Mr. Gross," he expostulated. + +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. + +"I think it would be best," he said. + +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." + +"To convince an enemy you are not afraid is often half the fight," Peter +Gross observed. + +"A good rule, but it doesn't apply to a pack of assassins," Carver +replied. "And that's what we seem to be up against. You can't take too +big precautions against whelps that stab in the dark." + +Peter Gross attempted no contradiction. The ever increasing concourse of +scantily clad natives along the shore held his attention. Carver scanned +his face anxiously. + +"They pretty nearly got you at Batavia, Mr. Gross," he reminded, anxiety +overcoming his natural disinclination to give a superior unsolicited +advice. + +"You may be right," Peter Gross conceded mildly. + +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." + +"We must expect to take some risks." + +Perceiving the uselessness of argument, Carver made a final plea. "At +least let me go with you," he begged. + +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." + +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 _controlleur's_ 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 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. + +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. + +"Oh, _kapitein_," he exclaimed with relief, "is it you?" + +"Who else would it be?" Van Slyck growled, perceiving at once that +Muller had worked himself into a frenzy of apprehension. + +"I don't know. I thought, perhaps, Cho Seng--" + +"You look as though you'd seen a ghost. What's there about Cho Seng to +be afraid of?" + +"--that Cho Seng had come to tell me Mynheer Gross was here," Muller +faltered. + +Van Slyck looked at him keenly, through narrowed lids. + +"Hum!" he grunted with emphasis. "So it is Mynheer Gross already with +you, eh, Muller?" + +There was a significant emphasis on the "_mynheer_." + +Muller flushed. "Don't get the notion I'm going to sweet-mouth to him +simply because he is resident, _kapitein_," he retorted, recovering his +dignity. "You know me well enough--my foot is in this as deeply as +yours." + +"Yes, and deeper," Van Slyck replied significantly. + +The remark escaped Muller. He was thrusting aside the screen of nipa +leaves to peer toward the vessel. + +"No," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief, "he has not left the ship yet. +There are two civilians at the forward rail--come, _kapitein_, do you +think one of them is he?" + +He opened the screen wider for Van Slyck. The captain stepped forward +with an expression of bored indifference and peered through the +aperture. + +"H-m!" he muttered. "I wouldn't be surprised if the big fellow is Gross. +They say he has the inches." + +"I hope to heaven he stays aboard to-day," Muller prayed fervently. + +"He can come ashore whenever he wants to, for all I care," Van Slyck +remarked. + +Muller straightened and let the leaves fall back. + +"_Lieve hemel, neen, kapitein_," 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?" + +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. + +"'Sufficient unto the day--' You know the proverb, _mynheer_," 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 _Prins_ 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. + +"To-night there will be schnapps and reminiscences, to-morrow morning a +visit of inspection to the fort, to-morrow afternoon a _bitchara_ 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 _mynheer_ so +drunk he won't know a tax statement from an Edammer cheese." + +Muller's face failed to brighten at the hopeful program mapped out by +his associate. If anything, his agitation increased. + +"But he might ask questions to-day, _kapitein_--questions I cannot +answer." + +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: + +"No danger of that at all, _mynheer_. There are certain formalities that +must be gone through first 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." + +"But my accounts, _kapitein_," Muller faltered. + +"To the devil with your accounts," Van Slyck exclaimed, losing +patience. "Go to Barang, fix them up as best you can." + +"I can never get them to balance," Muller cried. "Our dealings--the +rattan we shipped--you know." He looked fearfully around. + +"There never was a _controlleur_ yet that didn't line his own pockets," +Van Slyck sneered. "But his books never showed it. You are a +book-keeper, _mynheer_, 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." + +"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." + +"Good God! Have you grown a conscience?" 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." + +Muller retreated before the captain's vehemence. + +"But the _bruinevels_, _kapitein_?" he faltered. "They may tell him +something different." + +"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 _Prins_ 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." + +His devilishly handsome smile gleamed sardonically, and he twisted his +nicely waxed mustache. Muller's hands shook. + +"_Kapitein_," 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. + +"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 though they said: 'Judas, I know +what is going on in your heart.' + +"At last, when I could say no more, he asked me: '_Mynheer_, 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." + +Van Slyck broke into scornful laughter. + +"_Mynheer_, 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." + +"But, _kapitein_, it might be a warning," Muller cried desperately. + +"Heaven doesn't send ravens to cheat such rogues as you and I from the +gallows, _mynheer_," Van Slyck mocked. "We might as well get ready to +meet our new resident. I see a boat putting off from the ship." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PETER GROSS'S RECEPTION + + +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 _orang blanda_ chief without being +observed. + +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. + +Once he surprised a dusky face in the bush, but his glance roved to the +next object in his line of vision in placid unconcern. As he mounted the +rise he made for the _controlleur's_ home, strolling along as calmly as +though he were on a Batavia lane. + +"_Duivel noch toe!_" 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. + +Van Slyck's eyes danced with satisfaction, and his saturnine smile was +almost Mephistophelian. + +"By Nassau, I was right, after all, _mynheer_," he exclaimed. "He's an +ass of a Yankee that Van Schouten is having some sport with in sending +him here." + +"There may be something behind this, _kapitein_," Muller cautioned +apprehensively, but Van Slyck cut him short. + +"Behind this, _mynheer_? 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--" + +Van Slyck's merriment broke loose in a guffaw. + +"You-you will not do anything violent, _kapitein_?" Muller asked +apprehensively. + +"Violent?" Van Slyck exclaimed. "I wouldn't hurt him for a thousand +guilders, _mynheer_. He's going to be more fun than even you." + +The frank sneer that accompanied the remark made the captain's meaning +sufficiently clear to penetrate even so sluggish a mind as the +_controlleur's_. 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. + +"What are we going to do, _kapitein_?" he asked quietly. + +"Welcome him, _mynheer_!" 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 _Prins_ 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. + +"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, _mynheer_. Leave the talking to me." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You were looking for some one, _mynheer_?" he asked. + +"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_ and acting resident. I think I +have found him." + +The mildness with which these words were spoken restored the captain's +aplomb, momentarily shaken by Peter Gross's calm, disconcerting stare. + +"You have a message for us?" + +"I have," Peter Gross replied. + +"Ah, from Kapitein Enckel, I suppose," Van Slyck remarked urbanely. +"Your name is--" He paused significantly. + +"It is from his excellency, the Jonkheer Van Schouten," Peter Gross +corrected quietly. + +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. + +"And your message, I understand, is for Mynheer Muller, the +_controlleur_?" the captain inquired loftily with a pert uptilt of his +chin. + +"For Mynheer Muller, the _controlleur_," Peter Gross acknowledged +gravely. + +"Ah, yes. This is Mynheer Muller." He indicated the _controlleur_ with a +flourish. "But you have not yet told us your name." + +"I am Peter Gross." + +"Ah, yes, Pieter Gross. Pieter Gross." The captain repeated the name +with evident relish. "Pieter Gross. Mynheer Pieter Gross." + +There was a subtle emphasis on the _mynheer_--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. + +Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle. Turning to the +_controlleur_, he asked in a voice of unruffled calm: "May I speak to +you privately, _mynheer_?" + +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: + +"Am I in the way, Mynheer Gross?" Again the ironic accent to the +_mynheer_. He rose to go, but Muller stayed him with the cry: + +"_Neen, neen, kapitein._ Whatever comes from the governor concerns you, +too. Stay with us, and we will see what his excellency has to say." + +None knew the importance of first impressions 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. + +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. + +"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." + +Van Slyck's faint, cynical smile deepened a trifle. + +"Ah, _mynheer_ has been appointed resident," he remarked +non-committally. + +Peter Gross's face hardened sternly. + +"It is not the custom in Batavia, captain, for officers of the garrison +to be seated while their superiors stand." + +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. + +Peter Gross turned again to Muller. + +"Here are my credentials, _mynheer_, and a letter from his excellency, +the governor-general," he announced simply. + +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 _controlleur_ took them with trembling fingers. Peter +Gross calmly appropriated a chair. As he seated himself he remarked: + +"Gentlemen, you may sit." + +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? + +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. + +It was some time before Muller finished reading the documents. He was +breathing heavily the while, 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, "_Je +Maintiendrai_." The signature at the bottom of each was the familiar +scrawl of Java's gamecock governor. + +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: + +"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, _mynheer_." + +"A splendid start," Van Slyck muttered to himself under his breath. + +"So I have been informed, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied gravely. +"Pardon me a moment." + +He turned toward Van Slyck: "Captain, I have a letter for you also from +his excellency. It will inform you of my appointment." + +"It would be better form, perhaps, _mynheer_, for me to receive his +excellency's commands at Fort Wilhelmina," Van Slyck replied suavely, +delighted at being able to turn the tables. + +"Very true, very true, _kapitein_, if you insist," 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." + +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. + +"A thousand pardons, _mynheer_," he apologized smilingly. "Mynheer +Muller just now requested me to remain." + +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. + +"Mynheer Muller cancels that invitation at my request," he announced +sternly. + +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 _controlleur_ +stammered: + +"Certainly, _mynheer_. I will see you later, _kapitein_." + +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 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. + +"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. + +"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. + +In barracks that night the soldiers whispered fearfully to each other +that a _budjang brani_ (evil spirit) had seized their captain again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A FEVER ANTIDOTE + + +"You have found Bulungan a difficult province to govern, _mynheer_?" +Peter Gross asked. + +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. + +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. + +"_Ach, mynheer_," 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 _controlleur_. I have worked night and +day, and the heavy work, and the worry, have made me almost bald." + +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. + +"You have found it difficult, then, I presume, to keep up with all your +work?" he suggested. + +Muller instantly grasped at the straw. "Not only difficult, _mynheer_, +but wholly impossible," he vehemently affirmed. "My reports are far +behind. I suppose his excellency told you that?" + +He scanned Peter Gross's face anxiously. The latter's serenity remained +undisturbed. + +"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, _mynheer_?" + +Muller breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That you will, _mynheer_," 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. + +"I am glad to hear that," Peter Gross replied. "The work is a little new +to me--I presume you know that?" + +"So I heard, _mynheer_. This is your first post as resident?" + +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. + +"This is my first post," he acknowledged. + +"Possibly you have served as _controlleur_?" Muller suggested. + +"I am a sailor," Peter Gross replied. "This is my first state +appointment." + +"Then my experience may be of value to you, _mynheer_," Muller declared +happily. "You understand accounts, of course?" + +"In a measure. But I am more a sailor than a supercargo, _mynheer_." + +"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, _mynheer_. 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." + +"So I have been told," Peter Gross assented dryly. + +"They told you correctly, _mynheer_. But they will get a stern master +now--we have heard of your work at Lombock, _mynheer_." + +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. + +Peter Gross's gravity did not relax. "How are the natives? Do you have +much difficulty?" he inquired. + +Muller assumed a wobegone expression. "_Ach, mynheer_," 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 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." + +"Do the coast Dyaks ever make trouble?" Peter Gross asked. + +Muller glanced at him shrewdly. + +"It is the hill Dyaks who begin it, _mynheer_. 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." + +"I hear there is a half-white woman who wields a great influence over +them," Peter Gross remarked. "Who is she?" + +"You mean Koyala, _mynheer_. A wonderful woman with a great influence +over her people; they would follow her to death. That was a wise act, +_mynheer_, 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." + +"She is very beautiful, I have heard," Peter Gross remarked pensively. + +Muller glanced at him sharply, and a quick spasm 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. + +"That depends on what you call beauty," he said surlily. "She is a +witch-woman, and half Dyak." + +Peter Gross looked up in pretended surprise. + +"Well, _mynheer_, I am astonished. They told me in Batavia--" He checked +himself abruptly. + +"What did they tell you in Batavia?" Muller demanded eagerly. + +Peter Gross shook his head. "I should not have spoken, _mynheer_. It was +only idle gossip." + +"Tell me, _mynheer_," Muller pleaded. "_Lieve hemel_, this is the first +time in months that some one has told me that Batavia still remembers +Muller of Bulungan." + +"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--" + +"I to marry?" Muller exclaimed. "Who? Koyala?" + +Peter Gross's silence was all the confirmation the _controlleur_ needed. +A gratified smile spread over his face; he was satisfied now that the +resident had no intention of being his rival. + +"They say that in Batavia?" he asked. "Well, between you and me, +_mynheer_, I would have to look far for a fairer bride." + +"Let me congratulate you," Peter Gross began, but Muller stayed him. + +"No, not yet, _mynheer_. What I have said is for your ears alone. +Remember, you know nothing." + +"Your confidence is safe with me," Peter Gross assured him. + +Muller suddenly recollected his duties as host. + +"Ho, _mynheer_, 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. + +"A glass of lemonade or iced tea, if you please," Peter Gross stated. + +"You are a teetotaler?" Muller cried in dismay. + +"As resident of Bulungan, yes, _mynheer_. A servant of the state cannot +be too careful." + +Muller laughed. "Lemonade and _jenever_, Cho Seng," he directed. "Well, +_mynheer_, 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 _jenever_ many +of us could not live in this inferno. Sometimes it is well to be able to +forget for a short time." + +"If one has a burdened conscience," Peter Gross conditioned quietly. + +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: + +"You have a splendid view here, _mynheer_. I hope the outlook from my +house is half so good." + +Muller roused himself. "That is so, _mynheer_," 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." + +"I thank you, _mynheer_," Peter Gross replied quietly. + +"You will have an establishment, _mynheer_?" Muller asked curiously. +"Have you brought servants? If not, I shall be glad to loan you Cho +Seng." + +"Thank you, I am well provided," Peter Gross assured. + +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. + +"Your servant has been with you a long time, _mynheer_?" he inquired +carelessly. + +"A year, _mynheer_. I got him from Batavia. He was recommended by--a +friend." The pause was perceptible. + +"His face seems familiar," Peter Gross remarked in an offhand manner. +"But that's probably imagination. It is hard to tell these Chinese +apart." + +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 should make a former waiter in his _rumah makan_ Muller's +servant. Presently he said: + +"If it is not too much trouble, _mynheer_, could you show me my house?" + +"Gladly, _mynheer_," Muller exclaimed, rising with alacrity. "It is only +a few steps. We will go at once." + +For the next half hour Peter Gross and he rambled through the dwelling. +It was modeled closely after the _controlleur's_ own, with a similar +green and white façade 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. + +"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." + +Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly. + +"Mynheer de Jonge was careless of his health, I hear," he remarked. "One +cannot be too careful in Bulungan. Therefore, _mynheer_, 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 _controlleur_ blinked at it with a puzzled frown. + +"These buildings will ruin the view, _mynheer_," he expostulated. "Such +long huts--they are big enough for thirty men. What are they for?" + +"Protection against the fevers, _mynheer_," Peter Gross said dryly. "The +fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"Where will they be quartered?" Muller asked. + +"I don't know." + +"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. + +"He told you to build some huts?" Van Slyck asked. + +"Yes, some long huts. Big enough for thirty men. He said they were to be +a protection against the fevers." + +"The fevers?" Van Slyck exclaimed in amazement. + +"Yes, the fevers that killed Mynheer de Jonge, he said." + +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." + +He flashed a sharp look at Muller. + +"When you see Koyala," he said, "send her to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +KOYALA'S DEFIANCE + + +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. + +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. + +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 soldiers of Fort +Wilhelmina who strolled over daily to watch the drills. + +"They'll do, they'll do," Peter Gross assured himself with satisfaction. + +He stepped back to his desk and took a document from it. It was Muller's +first report as _controlleur_. 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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +Peter Gross controlled the start of surprise he felt. He intuitively +guessed who his visitor was. + +"You may show her in," he announced. + +"Yes, sir." + +"And, Paddy--call Captain Carver, please." + +"Yes, sir." + +The shock of red hair darted away. + +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? + +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. + +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 snakeskin 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. + +"You are the Juffrouw Koyala," he announced simply. "Good morning, +_juffrouw_." He bowed. + +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. + +"Won't you be seated?" he remarked conventionally, and placed a chair +for her. Not until then did she speak. + +"It is not necessary, _mynheer_. I have only a few words to say." + +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. + +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 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. + +"What did you wish to see me about?" Peter Gross asked when he saw that +she was awaiting his permission to speak. + +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. + +"I am told, _mynheer_, that the governor withdrew his offer for my +person at your request," she said coldly. + +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. + +"That is true, _juffrouw_," he acknowledged. + +"Why did you do this, _mynheer_?" + +Peter Gross did not answer at once. The direct question astonished him. + +"Why do you ask, _juffrouw_?" he parried. + +Her finely chiseled head tilted back. Very royal she looked, very +queenly, a Diana of the tropic jungle. + +"Because Koyala Bintang Burung asks no favors from you, Mynheer Gross. +Nor from any white man." + +It was a declaration of war. Peter Gross realized it, and his face +saddened. He had expected opposition 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. + +"I had no intention of doing you a favor, _juffrouw_," he announced +quietly. + +"What was your object, _mynheer_?" + +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. + +"To do you justice, _juffrouw_," he replied. + +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: + +"I want none of your justice, _mynheer_." + +"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. + +"_Juffrouw!_" + +She turned slowly. The cold disdain her face expressed was magnificent. + +"What shall I do?" he entreated. His mild, gray eyes were fixed on her +flaming orbs pleadingly. Her lips curled in scornful contempt. + +"That is for you to decide, _mynheer_," she replied. + +"Then I cross from the slate all that has been charged against you, +_juffrouw_. You are free to come and go as you wish." + +A flash of anger crossed Koyala's face. + +"Your pardon is neither asked nor desired, _mynheer_," she retorted. + +"I must do my duty as I see it," Peter Gross replied. "All that I ask of +you, _juffrouw_, 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?" + +"I make no promises and give no pledges, _mynheer_," Koyala announced +coldly. + +"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." + +Koyala's lips curled derisively. "You can promote our welfare best by +going back to Java, _mynheer_," she retorted. + +Peter Gross looked at her sadly. + +"_Juffrouw_," 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-market. Your +women would be stolen. You are a woman, _juffrouw_, a woman of education +and understanding; you know what the white man saves you from." + +"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." + +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. + +"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 whether he +was mocking her. But his dejection was too patent to be pretense. + +"If you believe that, why are you here?" she demanded. + +"Because I believe that Bulungan needs me to correct these evils, +_juffrouw_," he replied gently. + +Koyala laughed shrilly, contemptuously. Peter Gross's form straightened +and the thin, firm lines of his lips tightened. He lifted a restraining +hand. + +"May I speak for a few moments, _juffrouw_?" 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 _babas_ (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 _Gustis_ (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 for the state, and +the balance for you and your children." + +Koyala looked at him searchingly. His tremendous earnestness seemed to +impress her. + +"You have taken a big task upon yourself, _mynheer_," she observed. + +"I will do all this, _juffrouw_, if you will help me," Peter Gross +affirmed solemnly. + +Scornful defiance leaped again into Koyala's eyes and she drew back +proudly. + +"I, _mynheer_? I am a Dyak of Bulungan," she said. + +"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, _juffrouw_." + +A film came across Koyala's eyes. She started to reply, checked herself, +and then spoke, lashing the words out between set teeth. + +"Promise upon promise, lie upon lie, that has been the way with you +whites. I hate you all, I stand by my people." + +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. + +"She will come back," he murmured to himself; "she will come back. I +have sown the seed, and it has sunk in fertile ground." + + * * * * * + +In the banyan grove Koyala, breathing rapidly because of her swift +flight, came upon Kapitein Van Slyck. The captain rose eagerly as she +darted through the cane. + +"What did he say?" he asked. "Did he try to make love to you?" + +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. + +Van Slyck stalked moodily back to the fort. At the edge of the grove he +slashed viciously at a pale anemone. + +"Damn these women, you never can trust them," he snarled. + +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 _controlleur's_ house, stepping +carefully in the center of the path where no snakes could lie +concealed. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE COUNCIL + + +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 _bitchara_ (talk) was to be held +in Bulungan town. + +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 cortège. 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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Foremost in the minds and on the lips of every individual in that +reeking press of humanity was the question: "What will the _orang +blanda_ (white man) want?" Speculation ran riot, rumor winged upon +rumor, and no tale was too fantastical to lack ready repetition and +credulous listeners. _Mynheer_ would exact heavy penalties for every act +of piracy and killing traced back to Bulungan, so the stories ran; +_mynheer_ would confiscate all the next rice crop; _mynheer_ would +establish great plantations and every village would be required to +furnish its quota of forced labor; _mynheer_ 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. + +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. + +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 "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. + +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 _baas_, was the first recruit in this +service and brought in daily reports. + +"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. + +"I expected opposition," he replied non-committally. + +"Too bad we haven't the _Prins Lodewyk_ here," Carver remarked. "A few +shells around their ears might bring them to their senses." + +"We don't need such an extreme measure yet," Peter Gross deprecated +gently. + +"I hardly know whether it's safe for us to venture 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." + +"I would rather meet them on their own ground." + +"It's a big risk. If there should be an attack, we couldn't hold them." + +"Thirty thousand against twenty-five would be rather long odds," Peter +Gross assented, smiling. + +"You're going to use the fort garrison, too, aren't you?" Carver asked +quickly. + +"I shall take just two people with me," Peter Gross announced. + +"My God, Mr. Gross! You'll never get back!" Carver's face was tense with +anxiety. + +"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." + +"But they're bound to break loose. A show of military force would +restrain them--" + +"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." + +Carver had long since learned the futility of trying to dissuade his +chief from a course once adopted. He merely remarked: + +"Of course I'll go?" + +"I'm sorry, captain--" Peter Gross's face expressed sincere regret. +"Nothing would please me more than to have you with me, but I can't +spare you here." + +Carver realized that himself. He swallowed his disappointment. + +"Whom were you planning on taking?" he asked abruptly. + +"Inchi--" + +Carver nodded approval. + +--"And Paddy Rouse." + +"Paddy?" the captain exclaimed. "Of what use--I beg your pardon, Mr. +Gross." + +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." + +An understanding smile broke upon Carver's face. + +"Of course. A mighty good idea. Bluff and superstition are two +almighty-powerful weapons against savages." + +"I also hope that we shall have another ally there," Peter Gross said. + +"Who is that?" + +"The Juffrouw Koyala." + +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 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." + +"I think you are wholly mistaken," Peter Gross replied decisively. + +Carver glanced at him quickly, searchingly. "She's a damn pretty woman," +he remarked musingly, and shot another quick glance at the resident. + +"That has nothing to do with the matter," Peter Gross replied sternly. + +Abruptly dropping the topic, Carver asked: + +"At what hour does the council meet?" + +"Four o'clock." + +"You'll be back by sundown?" + +"I am afraid not. I shall probably spend the night with Wobanguli." + +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?" + +"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 use it otherwise. If Van Slyck should make a fuss +you will know how to handle him." + +"I understand," Carver replied shortly, and pocketed the envelope. He +strode back to his shelter with a heavy heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +PETER GROSS'S PLEDGE + + +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. + +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. + +"Sounds like the Fourth of July," Paddy remarked cheerfully. + +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 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. + +"Whew," Paddy whistled softly. "I thought they meant business." + +"It was meant to do us honor," Peter Gross explained. + +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. + +"That shows that they are all of princely rank," Peter Gross informed +him. + +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 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. + +"Big reception they're giving us," Paddy remarked. + +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. + +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. + +"Into the lion's den," he whispered to Peter Gross. His eye was +sparkling; roughing the natives had whetted his appetite for action. + +Peter Gross sprang from his horse lightly--he had learned to ride before +he went to sea--and 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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +There was a moment's pregnant pause, a moment when the royal mind did +some quick thinking. Then Wobanguli rose and said: + +"We have heard the call and we are here, resident." + +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. + +Not until each of the forty had felt the power of his mesmeric glance +did Peter Gross speak. + +"You may tell the council the purpose of this meting, Rajah," he +announced, turning to Wobanguli, and then seated himself in the vacant +chair. + +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. + +"A panther; he will be hard to tame," was Peter Gross's unspoken +thought. + +Wobanguli began speaking in sonorous tones, using Malay-Dyak dialect, +the _lingua franca_ of the residency. + +"Rajahs, Custis, Datus, and Kapalas, to-day hath Allah and the Hanu +Token and the great god Djath given a new ruler to Bulungan." + +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: + +"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.' + +"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 of brilliantly colored cloth, and much +tobacco.' So we let the white man give us a ruler." + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 right comes from the increase in riches +they bring and the trade they bring." + +A hoarse murmur arose. The Malay Datus' scowls were blacker. The Dyaks +looked sullenly at their arch-enemies, the brown immigrants from +Malacca. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +He turned to a group of short, lithely built men armed with spears. + +"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." + +He turned toward the delegation of coast natives. + +"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." + +To the scowling Malays he said: + +"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 _balas_ money which you +now pay the pirates will be counted with your profits, for I will drive +the pirates from these seas. + +"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 swift and terrible will be my vengeance +on him who breaks the law." + +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: + +"I am now ready to hear your grievances, princes of the residency. You +may speak one by one in the order of your rank." + +Calmly turning his back on them, he walked back to his chair. + +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. + +A powerful Malay suddenly leaped to his feet, and glared defiantly at +Peter Gross. + +"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 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?" + +"Ai-yai-yai-yai," was the angry murmur that filled the hall in a rising +assent. + +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. + +"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 brothers, +the thief who takes and gives or the thief who takes all and gives +nothing?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +A young Dyak chief suddenly sprang to the middle of the floor. His +trappings showed that he was of Gusti rank. + +"I have heard the words of the white chief and 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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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 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?" + +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: + +"Kill him, Dyaks of Bulungan. He speaks with two tongues to make you +slaves on the plantations." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"One move and I shoot," Peter Gross cried. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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 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." + +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: + +"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." + +At that moment Paddy, hatless and disheveled, 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: + +"See, the servant with the sacred flame." + +"The sacred flame," Dyaks and Malays both muttered awesomely, as they +crowded back from the platform. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +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. + +"Will you pledge, brother?" the Malay demanded again. + +"I pledge," Peter Gross replied firmly. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE POISONED ARROW + + +"And so," Peter Gross concluded, "I pledged my life that we'd put things +to rights in Bulungan." + +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. + +"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 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." + +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. + +"Shall I get a light, sir?" he asked. + +"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. + +"What do you think of the situation?" he asked pointedly. + +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. + +"I was trying to decide whether Koyala is an asset or a liability," he +replied. + +Peter Gross, too, listened for a moment to the chirping of the crickets +before he answered. + +"She saved my life," he said simply. + +"She did," Captain Carver acknowledged. "I'm wondering why." + +Peter Gross stared into the evening silence. + +"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 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." + +"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." + +"There have been some notable half-breed patriots," Peter Gross remarked +with a half-smile that the darkness curtained. + +"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." + +"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...." + +His voice trailed into silence and he stared across the fields toward +the jungle-crowned hills silhouetted against the brilliantly starlit +sky. + +"Sachsen is too old a man to be caught napping," Carver observed. + +"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." + +"You're sure it was Ah Sing's voice you heard?" + +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: + +"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." + +"If he's here we've got the whole damn' wasp's nest around our ears," +Carver growled. "I wish we had the _Prins_ here." + +"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." + +"And we're here with twenty-five men," Carver said bitterly. "It would +be damned farcical if it wasn't so serious." + +"We are not here to use a mailed fist," Peter Gross remonstrated mildly. + +"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. + +"When do you begin the census?" + +"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." + +"You're going to trust it to Muller?" + +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. + +"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." + +"How about Van Slyck?" + +"He shall have his chance, too." + +"You can't give the other man all the cards and win." + +"We'll deal fairly. The odds aren't quite so big as you think--we'll +have Koyala and the hill Dyaks with us." + +"H'mm. Jahi comes to-morrow afternoon, you say?" + +"Yes. I shall appoint him Rajah over all the hill people." + +Carver picked up his cigar and puffed in silence for several moments. + +"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." + +"In the heart of every man there's something that responds to simple +justice and fair dealing--What's that?" + +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. + +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. + +"Poisoned!" he exclaimed. He gave it to the resident, remarking +ironically: + +"With the compliments of the Argus Pheasant, Mr. Gross." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A SUMMONS TO SADONG + + +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: + + DEAR CAPTAIN: + + 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. + + 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. + + 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 _controlleurs_, 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 _orang kayas_, or rich men, of + the villages, but it has strengthened me with the tribesmen, I + believe. + +He described the council and the result, and continued: + + I am now having a census taken of each district in the + residency. I have made the _controlleur_ 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.... + + 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.... + + 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 _Prins Lodewyk_, 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. + +As Peter Gross was affixing the required stamp, the door opened and +Paddy Rouse entered. + +"The baby doll is here and wants to see you," Paddy announced. + +"Who?" Peter Gross asked, mystified. + +"The yellow kid; old man Muller's chocolate darling," Paddy elucidated. + +Peter Gross looked at him in stern reproof. + +"Let the Juffrouw Koyala be the Juffrouw Koyala to you hereafter," he +commanded harshly. + +"Yes, sir." Paddy erased the grin from his lips but not from his eyes. +"Shall I ask the lady to come in?" + +"You may request her to enter," Peter Gross said. "And, Paddy--" + +"Yes, sir." + +"--leave the door open." + +"Yes, sir." + +The red head bobbed to hide another grin. + +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. + +"Unconquerable as the sea," he mused. "And apt to be as tempestuous. +She's well named--the Argus Pheasant." + +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 shaped those +ankles were, and how delicately her exquisitely formed feet tapered in +the soft, doe-skin sandals. + +"Well, _juffrouw_, which of my _controlleurs_ is in mischief now?" he +asked in mock resignation. + +Koyala flashed him a quick smile, a swift, dangerous, alluring smile. + +"Am I always complaining, _mynheer_?" she asked. + +Peter Gross leaned back comfortably. He was smiling, too, a smile of +masculine contentment. "No, not always, _juffrouw_," he conceded. "But +you kept me pretty busy at first." + +"It was necessary, _mynheer_." + +Peter Gross nodded assent. "To be sure, _juffrouw_, 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." + +He glanced at her reprovingly. "You haven't been here much this week; +this is only the second time." + +A mysterious light flashed in Koyala's eyes, but Peter Gross was too +intent on admiring her splendid physical sufficiency to notice it. + +"You are very busy, Mynheer Resident," Koyala purred. "I take too much +of your time as it is with my trifling complaints." + +"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. "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." + +He leaned forward earnestly. + +"We must work out the salvation of Bulungan together, _juffrouw_. 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." + +Koyala's eyes lowered before his beseeching gaze and the earnestness of +his plea. + +"You are very kind, _mynheer_," she said softly. "But you overestimate +my powers. I am only a woman--it is the Rajahs who rule." + +"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." + +He smiled frankly. + +"I want to be honest with you, _juffrouw_. 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." + +Koyala's face was hidden. Peter Gross saw that her lips pressed together +tightly and that she was undergoing some powerful emotion. He looked at +her anxiously, fearful that he had spoken too early, that she was not +yet ready to commit herself utterly to his cause. + +"I came to see you, _mynheer_, about an affair that happened in the +country of the Sadong Dyaks," Koyala announced quietly. + +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: + +"Another complaint, _juffrouw_?" + +"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." + +The smile that had been on Peter Gross's lips died instantly. His face +became drawn and hard. + +"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." + +"If you choose the hill people for your brothers, the sea people will +not accept you," Koyala said coldly. + +"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." + +He bowed his head in his hands and closed his eyes in thought. Koyala +watched him like a tigress in the bush. + +"Who found the body of the slain man?" he asked suddenly, looking up +again. + +"Lkath himself, and some of his people," Koyala replied. + +"Do the Sadong Dyaks use the sumpitan?" + +"The Dyaks of the sea do not fight their enemies with poison," Koyala +said scornfully. "Only the hill Dyaks do that." + +"H-m! Where was the body? How far from the stream?" + +"It was by a water-hole." + +"How far from Lkath's village?" + +"About five hours' journey. The man was hunting." + +"Was he alone? Were there any of Lkath's people with him?" + +"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." + +"Ah!" Peter Gross exclaimed involuntarily. "Then, according to Dyak +custom, he will have to marry his brother's wife. Are there any +children?" + +"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." + +"I believe that I will go to Sadong myself," Peter Gross said suddenly. +"This case needs investigating." + +"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. + +"I will go to-morrow," Peter Gross said. "I can get a proa at Bulungan." + +"You will take your people with you?" + +"No, I will go alone." + +It seemed to Peter Gross that Koyala's face showed a trace of +disappointment. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"Oh, you have been writing to your sweetheart," she exclaimed. +Chaffingly as the words were spoken, Peter Gross felt a little of the +burning curiosity that lay back of them. + +"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?" + +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: + +"I do not want to read your letters. I will see you in Sadong--" She +bolted through the door. + +Peter Gross stared in undisguised bewilderment after her. It was several +minutes before he recovered and placed the letter back in the mailing +receptacle. + +"I never will be able to understand women," he said sadly, shaking his +head. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +KOYALA'S ULTIMATUM + + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 "_salaamat_" (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. + +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. + +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-à-dos that had hastened +forward at a signal from Lkath. The vehicles rumbled up the hill. + +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. + +"What is it, voice of Djath?" Lkath asked respectfully. + +"The _bilian_ is here and awaits your presence," the priest announced. + +Lkath stifled an exclamation of surprise. + +"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. + +"A hundred miles over jungle trails in less than two days," he +remarked, with a low whistle. "How the devil did she do it?" + +There was no doubting the priest's words, however, for as they entered +the temple Koyala herself came to meet them. + +"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. + +"He will be here to-morrow," she announced. "What are you going to do +with him?" + +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. + +"What are you going to do with him, Datu?" Koyala demanded, addressing +Ah Sing directly. + +"The Princess Koyala is our ally and friend," he replied gutturally. + +"Your ally waits to hear the decision of the council," Koyala retorted +coldly. + +Wobanguli interposed. "There are things, _bilian_, that are not fitting +for the ear of a woman," he murmured suavely, with a sidelong glance at +Ah Sing. + +"I am a warrior, Rajah, as well as a woman, with the same rights in the +council that you have," Koyala reminded. + +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." + +"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?" + +"We haven't decided--" Van Slyck began. + +"That is false!" + +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. + +"Peace!" Ah Sing rumbled sternly. "He is my prisoner. I marked him for +mine before he was named resident." + +"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." + +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." + +The Dyak blood mounted to Koyala's face. + +"He is not yours; he is mine!" she cried. "He was mine long before you +marked him yours, Datu." + +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. + +"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." + +"You desire him?" Ah Sing bellowed. The great purple veins stood out on +his forehead, and his features were distorted with malignancy. + +Koyala threw back her head haughtily. + +"If I do, who is going to deny me?" + +Ah Sing choked in inarticulate fury. His face was black with rage. + +"I will, woman!" he bawled. "You are mine--Ah Sing's--" + +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. + +Ah Sing recovered himself and slowly smoothed his rumpled garments. He +did not even look at Koyala. + +"Let us go," he said thickly. + +Koyala sprang to the door. She was panting heavily. + +"You shall not go until you pledge me that he is mine!" she cried. + +Ah Sing looked at her unblinkingly. The deadly malignancy of his face +caused even Van Slyck to shiver. + +"You may have your lover, woman," he said in a low voice. + +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. + +They stared at her in astonishment. After a sidelong glance at Ah Sing, +Wobanguli placed a caressing hand on her arm. + +"_Bilian_, my daughter--" he began. + +Koyala flung his arm aside and lifted her tear-stained face with a +passionate gesture. + +"Is this my reward?" she cried. "Is this the return I get for all I have +done to drive the _orang blanda_ 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 at my disgrace--yea, I know he +was laughing, though he hid his smile with the cunning of the _orang +blanda_. 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." + +Her fingers clenched spasmodically, as though she already felt the hilt +of the fatal blade between them. + +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. + +"Why should I trust you?" he snarled. + +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: + +"I give you his life to-day. But remember, Bintang Burung, there is one +more powerful than all the princes of Bulungan." + +"The god Djath is greater than all princes and Datus," Koyala replied +quietly. "I am his priestess. Answer, Lkath, whose voice is heard +before yours in Sadong?" + +Lkath bowed low, almost to the ground. + +"Djath rules us all," he acknowledged. + +"You see," Koyala said to Ah Sing, "even your life is mine." + +Something like fear came into the eyes of the Chinaman for the first +time. + +"I go back to Bulungan," he announced thickly. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +LKATH'S CONVERSION + + +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. + +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 _orang blanda_ 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. + +"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 flame. A murmur of surprise ran +through the crowd. Several Dyaks dropped to their knees. + +"They're beginning to find their prayer-bones, Mr. Gross," Paddy pointed +out, blissfully unconscious that it was he who had inspired their +reverence. + +At that moment Peter Gross saw a familiar girlish figure stride lightly +down the lane. His face brightened. + +"Good-afternoon, _juffrouw_!" he exclaimed delightedly as she +approached. "How did you get here so soon?" + +He offered his hand, and after a moment's hesitation Koyala permitted +his friendly clasp to encircle the tips of her fingers. + +"Lkath has a house ready for you," she said. "The dos-à-dos will be here +in a moment." They chatted while the natives gaped until the jiggly, +two-wheeled carts clattered toward them. + +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. + +"Welcome to the falcon's nest," Lkath said. + +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. + +Seized with a sudden admiration of his host, who could swallow his +prejudices to maintain the traditional hospitality of his race, Peter +Gross resolved to win his friendship at all costs. It was his newborn +admiration that inspired him to reply: + +"Your house is well named, Gusti. None but eagles would dare roost above +the gate to Sangjang." + +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: + +"My poor house and all that is in it is yours, Mynheer Resident." + +"There is no door in Borneo more open than Lkath's," Peter responded. "I +am happy to be here with you, brother." + +The words were the signal, according to Dyak custom, for Lkath to step +forward and rub noses. But the chief drew back. + +"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." + +"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." + +Lkath bowed and said: "Very good, Mynheer Resident." + +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 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. + +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. + +The next morning the elders assembled in the _balais_, 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. + +"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? 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?" + +Peter Gross did not answer their questions. "Show me where the body was +found," he directed. + +Paddy Rouse, usually bold to temerariousness, protested in dismay, +pointing out the danger in venturing into the jungle with savages so +avowedly unfriendly. + +"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." + +"I'm with you wherever you go," Paddy said loyally. + +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. + +They talked of Bulungan, its sorry history, its possibilities for +development. Koyala's eyes glowed with a strange light, and she spoke +with an ardency that surprised the resident. + +"How she loves her country!" he thought. + +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. + +"These roads are very dusty," he remarked, wiping a splinter of fine +shale from his own eyes. + +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. + +"There is some mistake," he said. "No man can blow an arrow that far." + +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 +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. + +"A wonderful shot!" Peter Gross exclaimed in pretended amazement. "There +is none other can shoot like Lkath." + +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. + +"Let us see how far you can shoot," he said pleasantly. + +The man shrank back. Peter Gross noticed his quick start of fear. "I +cannot shoot," he protested. + +"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. + +"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. + +"It is time to start, if we are to be back in Sadong before _malam_" +(night) "casts its mantle over the earth," he said. Well content with +the showing he had made, Lkath agreed. + +They were passing the temple; it was an hour before sundown when Peter +Gross said suddenly: + +"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. + +"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?" + +The chief, although plainly amazed at hearing such a suggestion from a +white man, was impressed with the idea. + +"It is good," he assented heartily. + +Peter Gross looked at Koyala. She was staring at him with a puzzled +frown, as if striving to fathom his purpose. + +"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." + +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." + +Seeing there was no escape, Koyala sank to her 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: + +"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--" + +"Mercy, _bilian_, 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--" + +He fell in a fit, foaming at the mouth. + +There was utter silence for a moment. Then Peter Gross said to the aged +priest who kept the temple: + +"Call the guard, father, and have this carrion removed to the jail." At +a nod from Lkath, the priest went. + +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. + +When they were alone Lkath asked: + +"How did you know, O wise one?" His voice expressed an almost +superstitious reverence. + +"The gods reveal many things to those they love," was Peter Gross's +enigmatical reply. + +To Paddy Rouse, who asked the same question, he made quite a different +reply. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +CAPTURED BY PIRATES + + +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. + +"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. + +"When did she go?" he asked. + +"The stars were still shining, Datu, when she spread her wings," the lad +replied. The feeling that something was wrong grew upon the resident. + +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 _balais_, or assembly-hall, from the chieftain. + +"This is a rum go," Paddy grumbled. + +"I am very much afraid that something has happened to turn Lkath against +us," Peter Gross remarked. "I wish Koyala had stayed." + +The summons to attend the _balais_ came a little later. When they +entered the hall they saw a large 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. + +"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 _orang blanda_. They ask nothing of the _orang blanda_. +You came in peace. Go in peace." + +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. + +"It shall be as you say, Lkath," he said. "Give me a pilot and let me +go." + +"He awaits you on the beach," Lkath replied. With this curt dismissal, +Peter Gross was forced to go. + +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." + +Shortly before sundown, while their proa was 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: + +"Is that soap-dish faster than ours, or are we gaining?" + +"That is precisely what I am trying to decide," Peter Gross answered +gravely. + +Paddy observed the note of concern in the resident's voice. + +"She isn't a pirate, is she?" he asked quickly. + +"I am very much afraid she is." Peter Gross spoke calmly, but Paddy +noticed a tremor in his voice. + +"Then we'll have to fight for it?" he exclaimed. + +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." + +"Why doesn't she come out where she can get the breeze?" + +"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." + +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. But seeing his chief so concerned, he suggested soberly: + +"Can't we beat out to sea and lose them during the night?" + +"Not if this is the ship I fear it is," the resident answered gravely. + +"What ship?" The question was frankly curious. + +"Did you hear something like a muffled motor exhaust a little while +ago?" + +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." + +Peter Gross sighed. "I thought so," he said with gentle resignation. "It +must be her." + +"Who? What?" There was no escaping the lad's eager curiosity. + +"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." + +Paddy's face whitened a little, and he looked earnestly at the ship. +Presently he started and caught Peter Gross's arm. + +"There," he exclaimed. "The motor again! Did you hear it?" + +"Ay," Peter Gross replied. "We had gained a few hundred yards on them, +and they've made it up." + +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. + +"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." + +"We're going to fight?" Rouse asked eagerly. + +"Ay," Peter Gross answered soberly. "We'll fight to the end." He placed +a hand on his protégé's shoulder. + +"I shouldn't have brought you here, my lad," he said. There was anguish +in his voice. "I should have thought of this--" + +"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. + +"They don't intend to lose us in the dark," he remarked cheerfully. + +"The moon rises early to-night," Peter Gross replied. + +A few minutes later, as the sun was beginning to make its thunderclap +tropic descent, the _juragan_, 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. + +"Tell your crew to keep away from those sails," he said with deadly +intentness. + +The _juragan_ 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. + +"Get below, every man of you," Peter Gross barked in the _lingua franca_ +of the islands. "Repeat that order, _juragan_!" + +The latter did so sullenly, and the crew dropped hastily below, +apparently well content at keeping out of the impending hostilities. + +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. + +Paddy turned to his chief with a whimsical smile. "Pretty big contract," +he remarked with unimpaired cheerfulness. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"I got you, damn you." + +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. + +"Waking up, governor?" a cheerful voice asked. It was Paddy. + +By this time Peter Gross was aware, from the rolling motion, that they +were at sea. After a confused moment he picked up the thread of memory +where it had been broken off. + +"They got us, did they?" he asked. + +"They sure did," Paddy chirruped, as though it was quite a lark. + +"We haven't landed yet?" + +"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." + +"If he only does," Peter Gross prayed fervently under his breath. He +asked Paddy: "How long have we been here?" + +"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." + +"Fourteen hours," Peter Gross mused. "It might be toward Coti, or it +might be the other way. Have they fed you?" + +"Not a blankety-blanked thing. Not even sea-water. I'm so dry I could +swallow the Mississippi." + +Peter Gross made no comment. "Tell me what happened," he directed. + +Paddy, who was sitting cross-legged, tried to shuffle into a more +comfortable position. In doing so he bumped his head against the top of +their prison. "Ouch!" he exclaimed feelingly. + +"You're not hurt?" Peter Gross asked quickly. + +"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--_jurumuddis_ 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." + +Peter Gross was silent. + +"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." + +"How shall I tell this light-hearted lad what is before us?" Peter Gross +groaned in silent agony. + +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. + +"What's stirring now?" Paddy asked. + +"Hist! I don't know," Peter Gross warned sharply. + +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. + +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. + +"We're under shell-fire!" Paddy gasped. + +"That must be the _Prins_," Peter Gross exclaimed. "I hope to Heaven +Enckel doesn't know we're aboard." + +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. + +"They may sink us!" Paddy cried in a half-breath. + +"Better drowning than torture." The curt reply was cut short by another +shell. The explosion was more distant. + +"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." + +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. + +"The _Prins_ is falling behind," Paddy cried despairingly. + +"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. + +"Well, there's more than one way to crawl out of a rain-barrel," Paddy +observed with unimpaired cheerfulness. + +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. + +"Cheer up," Paddy cried, "we'll get another chance." + +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. + +"I'm afraid, my lad, that the _Prins_ was our last hope," he said. There +was an almost fatherly sympathy in his voice, responsibility seemed to +have added a decade to the slight disparity of years between them. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN THE TEMPLE + + +The hatch above them opened. A bestial Chinese face, grinning cruelly, +appeared in it. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Jump on deck, my lad," he shouted. "Quick, let them see you. It may +save us." + +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. + +"Act like a madman," Peter Gross whispered hoarsely to his aide. + +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 _juragan_, who ran forward, waving a pistol. + +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. + +The _juragan's_ 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. + +A Dyak left the ranks and began talking volubly to the _juragan_, +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 +_juragan_ retorted sharply. The Dyak broke into another volley of +protestations. Paddy looked on with a glaringly stupid smile. The +_juragan_ 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. + +"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: + +"The old bird isn't aboard, governor." + +"I rather suspected he wasn't," Peter Gross answered. "He must have been +put ashore at the stop you spoke of." + +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 Gross recognized the familiar headlands crowning Bulungan +Bay. Paddy also recognized them, for he cried: + +"They're bringing us back home." + +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. + +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. + +Looking about, Peter Gross and Paddy found themselves in the enclosed +court of what was evidently 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. + +The _juragan_ 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. + +"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. + +"We may as well make ourselves comfortable," was his only observation at +the close of his investigation. + +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, 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. + +"I shouldn't have brought him here; I shouldn't have brought him here," +he muttered brokenly. + +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. + +"What? Time for breakfast?" he exclaimed with an amiable grin. "I must +have overslept." + +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. + +"Whew!" he whistled. "It's stale." + +"You had better try to eat something," Peter Gross advised. + +"I'm that hungry I could eat toasted sole leather," Paddy confessed. +"But this stuff smells to heaven." + +Peter Gross took the other bowl and began eating, wielding the +chopsticks expertly. + +"It isn't half bad--I've had worse rations on board your uncle's ship," +he encouraged. + +"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. + +"Faith," he exclaimed, "I've got more appetite than I imagined." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +AH SING'S VENGEANCE + + +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. + +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. + +"What's this?" Paddy asked. + +Peter Gross's face was set in hard, firm lines, and there was an +imperious note in his voice as he said: + +"Come here, Paddy. I have a few words to say to you." + +Paddy's face lost its familiar smile as he followed his chief to the +corner of their prison farthest from the door. + +"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." + +In spite of his effort at self-control, Paddy's face blanched. + +"By torture?" he asked in a low voice of amazement. + +"That is what we may expect," Peter Gross declared curtly. + +Paddy breathed hard a moment. Then he laid an impulsive hand on his +leader's arm. + +"Let's rush 'em the minute the door opens, Mr. Gross." + +Peter Gross shook his head in negation. "While there is life there is +hope," he said, smiling. + +Paddy did not perceive that his chief was offering himself in the hope +that his death might appease the pirate's craving for vengeance. + +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. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"I thought I heard a white man speaking just now," Paddy whispered. "It +sounded like Van Slyck's voice--Hist!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 he gazed about for +Van Slyck, he saw no signs of him; the captain had unquestionably deemed +it best to keep out of sight. + +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. + +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. + +"Why you don't speak, Mynheer Gross?" he asked, mimicking Van Schouten's +raspy voice. + +Peter Gross made no reply, but continued staring tranquilly into the +face of his arch-enemy. + +"Mebbe you comee Ah Sing's house for two-three men?" the pirate chief +suggested with a wicked grin. + +"Mebbe you show Ah Sing one damn' fine ring Mauritius?" the pirate chief +mocked. + +Peter Gross did not flick an eyelash. A spasm of passion flashed over Ah +Sing's face, and he kicked the resident violently. + +"Speakee, Chlistian dog," he snarled. + +Peter Gross's lips twitched with pain, but he did not utter a sound. + +"I teachum you speakee Ah Sing," the pirate 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. + +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. + +"Peter him muchee likee go _sangjang_ (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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Strange!" he muttered to himself. "It can't be that they've left." + +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 himself +within the narrow park of the sun's rays to dry his clothing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A RESCUE + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"We've got 'em all, boys; come on!" + +Peter Gross leaped to the grating. "Here, Carver, here!" he shouted at +the top of his voice. + +"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. + +The captain blinked to accustom himself to the light. Peter Gross +stepped forward and their hands clasped. + +"In time, Mr. Gross, thank God!" Carver exclaimed. "Where's Paddy?" + +"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. + +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. + +A half-sob broke in Peter Gross's throat. It was the first emotion he +had given way to. + +"They've taken him away," he said in a low, strained voice. + +"Search the temple!" Carver shouted in a stentorian voice to several of +his command. "Get Jahi to help; he probably knows this place." + +"Jahi's here?" Peter Gross exclaimed incredulously. + +"He and a hundred hillmen," Carver replied crisply. "Now to comb this +pile." + +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. + +"The damn' skunk said he was going to Padang," he exclaimed. "He left +Banning in charge. I hope to God he stays away." + +One of Jahi's hillmen reported that no trace of Rouse could be found. +"Him no here; him in bush," he said. + +"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?" + +"He's alive," Peter Gross declared confidently, although his own heart +was heavy with misgiving. "We've got to rescue him." + +"They've got at least five hours the start of us," Carver remarked. "How +far are we from the seacoast?" + +Peter Gross's reply was as militarily curt as the captain's question. + +"About two hours' march." + +"They're probably at sea. We'll take a chance, though." He glanced +upward at the sound of a footfall. "Ah, here's Jahi." + +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. + +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. + +"Rajah, can we catch those China boys before they reach their proas?" +Carver asked. + +"No can catch," Jahi replied. + +"Can we catch them before they sail?" + +"No can say." + +"How far is it?" + +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. + +"When there shall have reached by so far the finger of the sun," he +declared. + +Both Carver and Peter Gross understood that he was designating how much +longer the shadow must grow. + +"About two hours, as you said," Carver remarked to his chief. "We'd +better start at once." + +Jahi bowed to indicate that he had understood. He took some soiled +sheets of China rice paper from his chawat. + +"Here are skins that talk, _mynheer kapitein_," he said respectfully. +"Dyak boy find him in China boy kampong." + +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. + +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. + +"Koyala again," Peter Gross remarked. "She has been our good angel all +the way." + +Carver was silent. The resident looked at him curiously. + +"I am surprised that you believed her so readily," he said. They jogged +along some distance before the captain replied. + +"I believed her. But I don't believe in her," he said. + +"Something's happened since to cause you to lose confidence in her?" +Peter Gross asked quickly. + +"No, nothing specific. Only Muller and his _controlleurs_ 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--" + +"So you assume it's Koyala?" Peter Gross demanded harshly. + +Carver evaded a reply. "I got a report that the priests are preaching a +holy war among the Malay and Dyak Mohammedans." + +"That is bad, bad," Peter Gross observed, frowning thoughtfully. "We +must find out who is at the bottom of this." + +"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. + +"Every success we have had is due to her," Peter Gross asserted sharply. +"She saved my life three times." + +Carver hazarded one more effort. + +"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. + +"You condemned her before you saw her because she has Dyak blood," Peter +Gross accused. "It isn't fair." + +"I'd like her a lot more if she wasn't so confounded friendly," Carver +replied dryly. + +Peter Gross did not answer, and by tacit consent the subject was +dropped. + +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. + +"_Orang blanda_ here stay, Dyak boy smell kampong," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE FIGHT ON THE BEACH + + +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. + +A Dyak plunged through the bush toward Jahi and jabbered excitedly. Jahi +cried: + +"China boy, him go proa, three-four sampan." + +"Lead the way," Carver cried. Peter Gross translated. + +"Double time," the captain shouted, as Jahi and his tribesmen plunged +through the bush at a pace too swift for even Peter Gross. + +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. + +A sharp command from Carver kept his men 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. + +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. + +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 him swirling in the water. A +dorsal fin cut the surface close by, there was a little flurry, and the +pirate disappeared. + +Peter Gross made his way through the bush toward Carver. The latter was +watching the proa with an anxious frown. + +"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." + +"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." + +"A good idea!" Carver bellowed the order. + +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. + +"_Een_," John Vander Esse, a member of the crew, murmured happily, +refilling his magazine. "Now for _nummer twee_." (Number two.) + +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 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. + +"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. + +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. + +"We will accept their surrender," Peter Gross said to Carver. "I shall +tell them to send a boat ashore." He stepped forward. + +"Don't expose yourself, Mr. Gross," Carver cried anxiously. Peter Gross +stepped into the shelter of a cocoanut-palm and shouted the Malay for +"Ahoy." + +A Chinaman appeared at the bow. His dress and trappings showed that he +was a _juragan_. + +"Lower a boat and come ashore. But leave your guns behind," Peter Gross +ordered. + +The _juragan_ 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. + +"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." + +It was necessary to use diplomacy to avoid mortally offending his ally, +the resident saw. + +"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." + +Jahi nodded dubiously. "My brother's word is good," he said. "There is a +creek near by. Maybe my boys find him sampan." + +"Go, my brother," Peter Gross directed. "Come back as soon as possible." + +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. + +Peter Gross shouted again to the _juragan_, 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 _juragan_ consented. + +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 _juragan_ 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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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 +restrain his people from falling on the pirates, long their oppressors. + +"I will speak to them," he announced quietly. He stepped forward. + +"Servants of Ah Sing," he shouted in an authoritative tone. All eyes +were instantly focused on him. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 _Daisy Deane_, is it not so?" + +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. + +"Peter Gross, him no lie," was Wong Ling Lo's unemotional admission. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. _Juragan_, you are the first." + +As one of Carver's force came forward with cords salvaged from the proa, +the _juragan_ 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. + +"I remain here," he announced. + +"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. + +"Will you go with us?" Peter Gross asked again. + +The Chinaman's face was a ghostly gray, but very firm. + +"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. + +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 _orang blanda_ 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +"TO HALF OF MY KINGDOM--" + + +Captain Carver selected a cigar from Peter Gross's humidor and reclined +in the most comfortable chair in the room. + +"A beastly hot day," he announced, wiping the perspiration from his +forehead. "Regular Manila weather." + +"The monsoon failed us again to-day," Peter Gross observed. + +Carver dropped the topic abruptly. "I dropped over," he announced, "to +see if the _juragan_ talked any." + +Peter Gross glanced out of the window toward the jungle-crowned hills. +The lines of his mouth were very firm. + +"He told me a great deal," he admitted. + +"About Paddy?" There was an anxious ring in Carver's voice. + +"About Paddy--and other things." + +"The lad's come to no harm?" + +"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." + +"Thank God!" Carver ejaculated in a relieved voice. "We'll get him +back. It may take time, but we'll get him." + +Peter Gross made no reply. He was staring steadfastly at the hills +again. + +"Odd he didn't take you, too," Carver remarked. + +"The _juragan_ 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 _juragan_, says his crew was slow in taking on fresh water; +that is how we were able to surprise him." + +"That explains it," Carver remarked. "I couldn't account for their +leaving you behind." + +Peter Gross lapsed into silence again. + +"Did you get anything else from him, any real evidence?" Carver +suggested presently. + +The resident roused himself with an effort. + +"A great deal. Even more than I like to believe." + +"He turned state's evidence?" + +"You might call it that." + +"You got enough to clear up this mess?" + +"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." + +"I'm a little curious," Carver confessed. + +Peter Gross passed his hand over his eyes and leaned back. + +"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. + +"It compromises Van Slyck?" + +"He is a murderer." + +"Of de Jonge--your predecessor?" + +"It was his brain that planned." + +"Muller?" + +"A slaver and embezzler." + +"You're going to arrest them?" Carver scanned his superior's face +eagerly. + +"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." + +"We're waiting too long," Carver asserted dubiously. "We've been lucky +so far; but luck will turn." + +"We are getting the situation in hand better every day. They will strike +soon, their patience is ebbing fast; and we will have the _Prins_ with +us in a week." + +"The blow may fall before then." + +"We must be prepared. It would be folly for us to strike now. We have no +proof except this confession, and Van Slyck has powerful friends at +home." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"What are your plans?" + +"I don't know. I must talk with Koyala before I decide. She is coming +this afternoon." + +Peter Gross glanced out of doors at that moment and his face brightened. +"Here she comes now," he said. + +Carver rose. "I think I'll be going," he declared gruffly. + +"Stay, captain, by all means." + +Carver shook his head. He was frowning and he cast an anxious glance at +the resident. + +"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 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. + +When Peter Gross looked up Carver was gone. Koyala entered with the +familiarity of an intimate friend. + +"What is this I hear?" Peter Gross asked with mock severity. "You have +been saving me from my enemies again." + +Koyala's smile was neither assent nor denial. + +"This is getting to be a really serious situation for me," he chaffed. +"I am finding myself more hopelessly in your debt every day." + +Koyala glanced at him swiftly, searchingly. His frankly ingenuous, +almost boyish smile evoked a whimsical response from her. + +"What are you going to do when I present my claim?" she demanded. + +Peter Gross spread out his palms in mock dismay. "Go into bankruptcy," +he replied. "It's the only thing left for me to do." + +"My bill will stagger you," she warned. + +"You know the Persian's answer, 'All that I have to the half of my +kingdom,'" he jested. + +"I might ask more," Koyala ventured daringly. + +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. +Instantly controlling herself, she said in carefully modulated tones: + +"You sent for me, _mynheer_?" + +"I did," Peter Gross admitted. "I must ask another favor of you, +Koyala." The mirth was gone from his voice also. + +"What is it?" she asked quietly. + +"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." + +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. + +"What will be my reward if I bring him back to you?" Koyala asked. Her +tone was almost flippant. + +"You shall have whatever lies in my power as resident to give," Peter +Gross promised gravely. + +Koyala laughed. There was a strange, jarring note in her voice. + +"I accept your offer, Mynheer Resident," she said. "But you should not +have added those two words, 'as resident.'" + +Rising like a startled pheasant, she glided out of the door and across +the plain. Peter Gross stared after her until she had disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +A WOMAN SCORNED + + +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: + +"Him, Djath boy, him, _orang blanda_ Djath boy, him come." + +"What the devil is he driving at?" Carver growled. The circumlocution of +the south-sea islander was a perennial mystery to him. + +"Paddy is coming," Peter Gross cried. "Now get your breath, Inchi, and +tell us where he is." + +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. + +"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." + +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. Discipline was forgotten as the entire command crowded around +the lad. + +"I shot two Chinamans for you," Vander Esse announced. "An' now daat vas +all unnecessary." + +"Ye can't keep a rid-head bottled up," Larry Malone, another member of +the company, shouted exultingly. + +"Aye ban tank we joost get it nice quiet van you come back again," +Anderson remarked in mock melancholy. The others hooted him down. + +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. + +"Koyala," he said, his voice vibrant with the gratitude he felt, "how +can we repay you?" + +Koyala made a weary gesture of dissent. + +"Let us not speak of that now, _mynheer_," she said. + +"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." + +The momentary gleam of pleasure that had lit Koyala's face at the +invitation died at the mention of Muller's name. + +"I am sorry," she said, but there was no regret in 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." + +"You cannot leave us now!" Peter Gross exclaimed in consternation. + +"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." + +"But we cannot do without you!" + +"Is a woman so necessary?" she asked, and smiled sadly. + +"You are necessary to Bulungan's peace," Peter Gross affirmed. "Without +you we can have no peace." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"We can use my office," Peter Gross offered, but Koyala shook her head. + +"I must be on my journey. I will see you in the grove." + +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. + +"It has been a long journey," she said with a wan smile. "I am very +tired." + +"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." + +"A half-hour's rest will be all I need," Koyala replied. + +"But this is no place for you," Peter Gross expostulated. + +"The jungle is my home," Koyala said with simple pride. "The Argus +Pheasant nests in the thickets." + +"Surely not at night?" + +"What is there to harm me?" Koyala smiled wearily at his alarm. + +"But the wild beasts, the tigers, and the leopards, and the orang-utans +in the hill districts, and the snakes?" + +"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, Chawatangi, 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." + +"But where do you sleep?" + +"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." + +"You wonderful woman!" Peter Gross breathed in admiration. + +Koyala smiled. She lay stretched out her full length on the ground. +Peter Gross squatted beside her. + +"You haven't told me where you found Paddy?" he remarked after a pause. + +"Oh, that was easy," she said. "Ah Sing has a station a little way this +side of the Sadong country--" + +Peter Gross nodded. + +"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 stormed about +the loss of his proa and refused to listen to me. He said he would hold +the boy as a hostage. + +"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." + +Her voice drooped pathetically. + +"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. + +"That is all," she concluded. + +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. + +"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. + +"Let us not speak of that--yet," Koyala dissented. "Tell me, Mynheer +Gross, do you love my country?" + +"It is a wonderfully beautiful country," Peter Gross replied +enthusiastically, falling in with her 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." + +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. + +"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, _mynheer_?" + +"Not until my work is completed," Peter Gross assured gravely. + +"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 be feuds, wars, piracy. There are +turns in the wheel, but no progress for us, _mynheer_. Borneo!" Her +voice broke with a sob, and she stole a covert glance at him. + +"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." + +Koyala shook her head. Her big, sorrowful eyes gleamed on him for a +moment through tears. + +"So you speak to-day when you are full of enthusiasm, _mynheer_. 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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"You would soon forget Borneo in Java, _mynheer_--and me." + +The sweet melancholy of her plaintive smile drove Peter Gross to +madness. + +"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!" + +Snatching her hands in his, he stared at her with a fierce hunger that +was half passion, half gratitude. + +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: + +"Why do you hold me, _mynheer_?" + +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. + +"Forgive me, Koyala," he said humbly. + +A chill of disappointment, like an arctic wave, submerged Koyala. She +felt the sensation of having 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. + +"Forgive you?" she spat venomously. "Forgive you for what? The words you +did not say, just now, _orang blanda_, when you held these two hands?" + +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. + +"Forgive you for cozening me with sweet words of _our_ work, and _our_ +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?" + +"Koyala--" Peter Gross attempted, but he might as well have tried to +stop Niagara. + +"Are these the things you seek forgiveness for?" Koyala shrieked. "Liar! +Seducer! _Orang blanda!_" + +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: + +"To-morrow the last white will be swept from Bulungan. But you will stay +here, _mynheer_--" + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE ATTACK ON THE FORT + + +When Peter Gross failed to return by noon that day Captain Carver, +becoming alarmed, began making inquiries. Hughes supplied the first +clue. + +"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." + +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. + +"Where is Inchi?" Captain Carver inquired. Search also failed to reveal +the Dyak lad. As this disquieting news was reported, Lieutenant Banning +was announced. + +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. + +"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 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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"We shall move our stores and all our effects at once," Carver declared. +"Are your dispositions made?" + +"We are always ready, captain," was the lieutenant's reply. + +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. + +"It looks as if Banning was right," he muttered. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Ah Sing has arrived," Banning remarked. Absent-mindedly he mused: "I +wonder if Captain Van Slyck is there?" + +Carver had by this time mastered just enough Dutch to catch the +lieutenant's meaning. + +"What do you know about Captain Van Slyck's dealings with this gang?" he +demanded, looking at the young man fixedly. + +"I can't say--that is--" Banning took refuge in an embarrassed silence. + +"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." + +Banning made no reply. + +Carver was at breakfast when word was brought him that Mynheer Muller, +the _controlleur_, 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 _controlleur_ be admitted. + +"_Goeden-morgen, mynheer kapitein_," Muller greeted as he entered. His +face was very pale, but he seemed to carry himself with more dignity +than customarily, Carver noticed. + +"State your mission, _mynheer_," Carver directed bluntly, transfixing +the _controlleur_ with his stern gaze. + +"_Mynheer kapitein_, you must fight for your lives to-day," Muller said. +"Ah Sing is here, there are three thousand Dyaks and Malays below." His +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. + +"Proceed," Carver directed curtly. + +"_Mynheer kapitein_, I am here to fight and die with you," the +_controlleur_ announced. + +A momentary flash of astonishment crossed Carver's face. Then his +suspicions were redoubled. + +"I hadn't expected this," he said, without mincing words. "I thought you +would be on the other side." + +Muller's face reddened, but he instantly recovered. "There was a time +when I thought so, too, _kapitein_," 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." + +Carver looked at him fixedly. + +"Where is the resident?" he demanded. + +"In a hut, in the jungle." + +"In Ah Sing's hands?" + +"He is Koyala's prisoner. Ah Sing does not know he is there." + +"Um!" Carver grunted. The exclamation hid a world of meaning. It took +little thought on his part to vision what had occurred. + +"Why aren't you with Koyala?" he asked crisply. + +Muller looked away. "She does not want me," he said in a low voice. + +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?" + +"_Ja, mynheer._" + +"You understand you'll get a bullet through the head at the first sign +of treachery?" + +Muller flushed darkly. "_Ja, mynheer_," he affirmed with quiet dignity. +It was the flush that decided Carver. + +"Report to Lieutenant Banning," he said. "He'll give you a rifle." + +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. + +An insolent demand from Ah Sing and Wobanguli that they surrender +prefaced the hostilities. + +"Tell the Rajah and his Chinese cut-throat that we'll have the pleasure +of hanging them," was Carver's reply. + +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 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. + +"They've got magazine-rifles," Carver muttered to himself. "Latest +pattern, too. That's what comes of letting traders sell promiscuously to +natives." + +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. + +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. + +Shortly thereafter Gibson, an ex-sailor, uttered an exclamation, and +clapped his right hand to his left shoulder. + +"Are ye hit?" Larry Malone asked. + +"They winged me, I guess," Gibson said. + +The Dutch medical officer hastened forward. "The bone's broken," he +pronounced. "We'll have to amputate." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Lieutenant Banning, mopping his brow, stepped forward to felicitate his +commanding officer. + +"They'll leave us alone for to-day, anyway," he predicted. + +Carver stroked his chin in silence a moment. + +"I don't think Ah Sing's licked so soon," he replied. + +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. + +"They're unloading artillery," he told Lieutenant Banning. + +The lieutenant's lips tightened. + +"We have nothing except these old guns," he replied. + +"They're junk," Carver observed succinctly. "These proas carry Krupps, +I'm told." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"We'll see whether they can handle it first. If they make it too hot for +us--well, we'll die fighting." + +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 from the natives, which the +remaining Dutch promptly answered with a stinging volley. + +"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. + +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. + +Carver took the lieutenant's hand in his own firm grip. + +"This is probably the end," he said. "I'm glad to die fighting in such +good company." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +A WOMAN'S HEART + + +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. + +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. + +In his bitter self-excoriation he had no thought of condemnation for +her. The fault was his, he vehemently 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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"You are my prisoner, _orang blanda_," she said. "Mine only. This hut +is mine. We are alone here, in the jungle, except for one of my people." + +"You may do with me as you will, Koyala," Peter Gross replied weariedly. + +Koyala started, and looked at him keenly. + +"I have come to carry you away," she announced. + +Peter Gross looked at her in silence. + +"But first there are many things that we must talk about," she said. + +Peter Gross rose to a sitting posture. "I am listening," he announced. + +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. + +"Do you remember, _mynheer_, when we first met?" she asked. + +"It was at the mouth of the Abbas River, was it not? At Wolang's +village?" + +"Why did you laugh at me then?" she exclaimed fiercely. + +Peter Gross looked at her in astonishment. "I laughed at you?" he +exclaimed. + +"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. + +Peter Gross shook his head while his gaze met hers frankly. "I do not +recollect," he said. "I surely 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?" + +"You are trying to deceive me," Koyala cried angrily. "You laughed +because--because--" + +"As God lives, it is the truth!" + +Koyala placed the point of her dagger over Peter Gross's heart. + +"_Orang blanda_," 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." + +Peter Gross met her glance fearlessly. + +"I have told you why I laughed, Koyala," he replied. "I can tell you +nothing different." + +The point of the dagger pricked the resident's skin. + +"Then you would rather die?" + +Peter Gross merely stared at her. Koyala drew a deep breath and drew +back the blade. + +"First we shall talk of other things," she said. + +At that moment the rattle of rifle-fire reached Peter Gross's ears. + +"What is that?" he cried. + +Koyala laughed, a low laugh of exultation. "That, _mynheer_, is the +children of Bulungan driving the white peccaries from Borneo." + +"Ah Sing has attacked?" Peter Gross could not help, in his excitement, +letting a note of his dismay sound in his voice. + +"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 _orang blanda_ from +Holland, and the Javanese, and the loud-voiced _orang blanda_ that you +brought with you, penned in Van Slyck's kampong. None will escape." + +"Thank God Carver's in the fort," Peter Gross ejaculated. + +"But they cannot escape," Koyala insisted fiercely. + +"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. + +"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 _orang blanda_ shall be driven from Bulungan." She clutched the +hilt of her dagger fiercely--. + +Amazed at her vehemence, Peter Gross watched the shifting display of +emotion on her face. + +"Koyala," he said, suddenly, "why do you hate us whites so?" + +He shrank before the fierce glance she cast at him. + +"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 _orang blanda_ 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. + +"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 +_orang blanda_." + +Peter Gross's head was bowed humbly. + +"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 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." + +"Do you know why?" Koyala exclaimed exultingly. "Do you know why you +failed? It was I--I--I, who worked against you. The _orang kayas_ sent +their runners to me and said: 'Shall we give the _controlleur_ 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." + +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: + +"But you saved my life--three times!" + +She saw his suffering and smiled. So she had been made to suffer, not +once, but a thousand times. + +"That was because I had sworn the revenge should be mine, not Ah Sing's +or any one else's, _orang blanda_." + +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. + +"You may do with me as you will, _juffrouw_," he said. + +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--"_juffrouw_." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +A figure stood in the doorway. It was Koyala. Cho Seng stood beside her. + +"The walls are down," she cried triumphantly. "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." + +"I and Captain Van Slyck," Peter Gross said scornfully. + +"He is dead," Koyala replied. "Ah Sing killed him. He was of no further +use to us, why should he live?" + +Peter Gross's lips tightened grimly. The traitor, at least, had met the +death he merited. + +Cho Seng edged nearer. Peter Gross noticed the dagger hilt protruding +from his blouse. + +"Has my time come, too?" he asked calmly. + +The Chinaman leaped on him. "Ah Sing sends you this," he cried +hoarsely--the dagger flashed. + +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-- + +"Ah Sing--comeee--for Koyala--plenty quick--" With a sigh, he died. + +Peter Gross looked at the Argus Pheasant. She was gazing dully at a tiny +scratch on her forearm, a scratch made by Cho Seng's dagger. The edges +were purplish. + +"The dagger was poisoned," she murmured dully. Her glance met her +prisoner's and she smiled wanly. + +"I go to _Sangjang_ with you, _mynheer_," she said. + +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. + +"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. + +Presently Peter Gross released her. + +"It was only a scratch," he said gently. "I think we have gotten rid of +the poison." + +The sound of broken sobbing was his only answer. + +"Koyala," he exclaimed. + +With a low moan she ran out of the hut, leaving him alone with the dead +body of the Chinaman, already bloated purple. + +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 that Koyala was not near. The +jungle was her best protection, he knew. + +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-- + +"It's the _Prins_," Peter Gross exclaimed jubilantly. "Thank God, +Captain Enckel came on time." + +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. + +"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. + +"Hurry, Koyala," he cried, catching her by the arm. "Ah Sing may be here +any minute." + +Koyala gently disengaged herself. + +"Ah Sing is in the jungle, far from here," she said. + +A silence fell upon them both. Her eyes, averted from his, sought the +ground. He stood by, struggling for adequate expression. + +"Where are you going, Koyala?" he finally asked. She had made no +movement to go. + +"Wherever you will, _mynheer_," she replied quietly. "I am now your +prisoner." + +Peter Gross stared a moment in astonishment. "My prisoner?" he repeated. +"Nonsense." + +"Your people have conquered, _mynheer_," she said. "Mine are in flight. +Therefore I have come to surrender myself--to you." + +"I do not ask your surrender," Peter Gross, replied gravely, beginning +to understand. + +"You do not ask it, _mynheer_, 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." + +"Ah Sing is responsible," Peter Gross said firmly. "And I." + +"You, _mynheer_?" The question came from Koyala's unwilling lips before +she realized it. + +"Yes, I, _juffrouw_. 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." + +"You will stay here?" Koyala asked incredulously. + +"Yes. And you, _juffrouw_?" + +A moment's silence. "My place is with my people--if you do not want me +as hostage, _mynheer_?" + +Peter Gross took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She +trembled violently. + +"I have a better work for you, _juffrouw_," he said. + +Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his. There was mute interrogation in the +glance. + +"To help me make Bulungan peaceful and prosperous," he said. + +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 reëntered the hut. + +"Mynheer Gross," she said, in a choking voice, "before I met you I +believed that all the _orang blanda_ 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." + +A stifled sob shook her. After a moment or two she resumed: + +"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. + +"But you disappointed me. You were just, you 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--" + +"He is dead," Peter Gross interrupted gently. + +"I have no sorrow for him. _Sangjang_ 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, +_mynheer_?" + +She looked at him humbly, entreatingly. Peter Gross smiled, his +familiar, confident, warming smile. + +"What your conscience dictates, Koyala." + +She breathed rapidly. At last came her answer, a low whisper. "If you +wish it, I will help you, _mynheer_." + +Peter Gross reached out his hand and caught hers. "Then we're pards +again," he cried. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE GOVERNOR'S PROMISE + + +Peter Gross had just concluded an account of his administration in +Bulungan to Governor-General Van Schouten at the latter's _paleis_ in +Batavia. The governor-general was frowning. + +"So! _mynheer_," he exclaimed gruffly. "This is not a very happy report +you have brought me." + +Peter Gross bent his head. + +"No census, not a cent of taxes paid, piracy, murders, my +_controlleurs_--God knows where they are, the whole province in revolt. +This is a nice kettle of fish." + +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. + +"You said you would find Mynheer de Jonge's murderer for me," Van +Schouten rasped. "Have you done that?" + +"Yes, your excellency. It was Kapitein Van Slyck who planned the deed, +and Cho Seng who 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. + +"How did Muller come to his death?" he demanded. + +"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." + +"H-m!" the governor grunted. "I thought he was one of these traitors, +too." + +"He expiated his crimes two weeks ago at Fort Wilhelmina, your +excellency." + +"And Cho Seng?" the governor demanded. "Is he still alive?" + +"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." + +"It is the judgment of God," Van Schouten pronounced solemnly. He looked +at Peter Gross sharply. + +"Now this Koyala," he asked, "where is she?" + +"I do not know. In the hills, among her own people, I think. She will +not trouble you again." + +The governor stared at his resident. Gradually the stern lines of his +face relaxed and a quaintly humorous glint came into his eyes. + +"So, Mynheer Gross, the woman deceived you?" he asked sharply. + +Peter Gross made no reply. The governor's eyes twinkled. He suddenly +brought down his fist on the table with a resounding bang. + +"_Donder en bliksem!_" 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." + +He flourished a highly colored silk handkerchief and blew his nose +lustily. + +"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 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 _Prins Lodewyk_ 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." + +He paused and looked smilingly into the eyes that looked so gratefully +into his. + +"What say you to two more years at Bulungan, _mynheer_, to straighten +out affairs there, work out your policies, and finish what you have so +ably begun?" + +"Your excellency is too good," Peter Gross murmured brokenly. + +"Good!" Van Schouten snapped. "_Donder en bliksem, mynheer_, it is only +that I know a man when I see him. Can you go back next week?" + +"Yes, your excellency." + +"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." + + +THE END + + + + +[Illustration: The Big Fight] + +[Illustration: Capt. David Fallon M.C.] + + +Few soldiers in this great war have been through adventures more +thrilling, dramatic and perilous than fell to the lot of Captain David +Fallon. + +He is a young Irishman whose first fighting was against the hillmen in +their uprisings in India. He received the Indian Field Medal. + +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. + +He was in scores of fierce trench battles. + +He commanded a tank in an amazing war adventure. + +He has served as an aërial observer, spotted enemy positions and fought +enemy aeroplanes. + +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. + +On scout duty he frequently penetrated German trenches and gun positions +in the night. + +A bomb duel with a German patrol when he was detected in their trenches +brought him irreparable injury. + +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. + +He was awarded the Military Cross for daring and valuable service to his +King. + +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. + + + + +THE WAR BOOK WITH A THRILL + +SPECIMEN CHAPTER + +CHAPTER XII + +"RAZZLE DAZZLE" + + +It was at Beaumont-Hamel, about September 16th, that I got my chance to +command a "tank." + +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. + +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-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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: "British blood is calling British blood"] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was. + +[Illustration: Cleaning Mills bombs] + +And largely because "Razzle Dazzle" took matters into her own hands. The +truth is she ran away. + +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. + +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. + +"The steering gear's off, sir," said he. + +"Stop her then and we'll let them have it from here," I ordered. + +He made several frantic motions with the mechanism and said: + +"I can't stop her, either." + +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. + +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. + +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 place had been reduced to a mere heap. +Not a shot came out of it at us. + +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. + +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. + +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 doughty tank and +there was a loud bang and a flare. Her oil reservoir shot up in an +enormous blaze. + +"Razzle Dazzle" was no more. But she had accounted for the "refinery." +And our infantry had done the rest. The German position was ours. + +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: + +"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." + +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." + +I wonder what "Joffre" thought of it all. I don't remember seeing her +when we fled from 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." + + "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. + + Why not order a copy to-day? + +[Illustration: In the supports, waiting to advance] + +[Illustration: The Military Cross] + + + + + +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 37215-8.txt or 37215-8.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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