It was a splendid example of what discipline and confidence could effect. The men felt that if their lives were to be saved, it would be through carefully carrying out the wishes of their officers, and hence no murmur was heard, each man's face wearing a grim look of determination, that seemed to be intensified as Sergeant Lund came round laden with cartridges, a packet of which he handed to each in turn.

"Some sergeants," he said, as he finished his task and stood rifle in hand by the group whose duty it was to shoot down the bearers of the dammar-torches that they felt sure would be used, "some sergeants would, I dare say, be shaking hands with all their mates at a time like this, and looking at things as all over; but I don't, my lads, for I've a sort of faith in our luck turning up shiny side outwards; so cheer up, all of you."

"All right, sergeant," was the reply.

"I wouldn't trust too much to luck though, my lads," he continued, "but I'd squint straight along the barrel of my rifle when I fired. You may be very sorry for the Malay chap you shoot at, but I'd shoot him first and be very sorry afterwards."

"Right, sergeant," said Private Sim, who had been fighting very manfully all day; "they needn't come and be a-trying to burn us out unless they like, need they?"

"No, Sim," replied the sergeant; "but they will, and it strikes me that they'll be come before long, too. Isn't that smoke in amongst those bushes there?"

"Smoke it is," said one of the men, excitedly.

"Don't jump about like that, my lad, but keep cool, or you'll be wasting your cartridges," said the sergeant. "Where's the captain? He was here just now."

"Gone round the other side," said Sim. "Here they come, sure enough. Look; there's a dozen men with torches."

"All right, my lads," said the sergeant. "I don't see that it matters about the captain not being here; you know your duty."

"Yes, sergeant, to shoot down those men."

"No, no, my lads; what you've got to do is to put those torches out, and the way to do it is with the bayonet. Stand ready there to slip over the breast-work, all of you, then a sharp run, and meet them as they come, and then back again under cover."

As he spoke the smoke of the dammar-torches could be seen, and some ten or twelve Malays came running across from the earth-works to set fire to the pile.

There was not a man behind the breast-work whose breath did not come thick and fast at the sight of the lights; for brave as they were, they knew that once the building they defended caught fire, the dry, sun-baked wood must flare away like so much paper; and there were women shut in there with them, whom it was their duty to defend.

It was no wonder then that the men tightly grasped their bayonet-armed rifles, and stood waiting for the command, that did not come. For just as it was upon the sergeant's lips a panting noise was heard, and as every eye was directed up the river, the masts of the steamer were seen coming along above the trees, and for the present the little garrison felt that they were saved.



CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

HOW ALI WENT TO SPY OUT THE LAND.

A tremor of excitement seemed to run through the attacking party; men hurried here and there; the bearers of the dammar-torches paused irresolute, and it was evident to the besieged that contrary orders were being given.

It was also evident to them that the danger signal they were flying was plainly understood upon the steamer, for the noise of the engine had not been heard a minute before there was the heavy report of one of the guns, and almost simultaneously the crash of a shell, which burst over the heads of the thronging Malays, about fifty yards in front of the fort.

No one seemed to be injured, but this dire instrument of warfare caused a complete scare amidst the attacking party: men running in all directions, and then seeming to go over the same ground once again, as a second shell burst with its harsh tearing metallic-sounding crack.

Again came the report of a gun, and the shell burst where the Malays were thickest, sending them scurrying like wild rabbits to the nearest cover, while the steamer now glided slowly down, closer and closer in shore, till at last she covered the river-face of the fort like an outwork, and a cheer rose from the little garrison, and was answered from the "Startler" as the forces, so to speak, combined, ready to act together for their mutual defence.

As the steamer was rapidly moored in her new position, men being sent ashore with cables from head and stern to make fast to the great trees a few yards from the bank, a rush at them was made by the Malays, but a few well-directed shots from the marines' rifles were sufficient to keep them at bay till the task was done; and the little garrison now joined hands with the steamer's crew in clearing the space between them.

The first step taken by Captain Smithers was to regain possession of the outworks—the portion he had given up from being so short of defenders.

This was accomplished without bloodshed; for upon the Malays gathering in force to withstand his efforts, they were scattered by a shell from the steamer, which cleared the way at once. This being done, and a meeting effected full of hearty congratulations, both soldiers and sailors set to work, armed with spades, to throw up a trench from the outworks of the fort to the river, the ditch being so arranged that it took in for safety the trees to which the steamer was moored, and this latter now became as it were the river-face of the fort.

Night had fallen long before the work was left, and this rendered it necessary for a retreat to fort and steamer, for the hours intervening till daybreak, when, no interruption having occurred, the digging was resumed, every man toiling with his rifle at his side till the task was done.

The next question was whether it would not be safer for all to take possession of the steamer, even though the extra defences had been made.

Lieutenant Johnson argued that this would be the better plan, as then they could at any time effect a retreat down the river, and make for Singapore or Penang.

But Captain Smithers refused to listen to this proposal.

"No," he said, "it was quite open to the ladies to take up their abode on board, and probably they would be more secure there than on shore; but so far," he said, "all was surmise about the expeditionary party. For all they knew, Captain Horton, Major Sandars, and their men, might have met with the best of treatment, and at the end of a few days they might return, to find the station abandoned by those left in charge."

"I only hope they may," said the lieutenant. "For my part, I feel certain that the whole of the people hereabouts are under the influence of the rajah, sultan included. But I will not oppose you, Captain Smithers, until matters come to such an extremity that it seems to me that we are uselessly risking life, then I must insist on an evacuation of the fort."

"I will not oppose you then," said Captain Smithers; "but you see that now it is as if I asked you to resign your ship."

Lieutenant Johnson nodded; and it having been resolved to hold out to the last, hoping the while that the expedition might return, the next proceeding seemed to be that of sending out a trustworthy spy or two, into the country and amongst the people.

Both Bob Roberts and Tom Long were present at what the latter had importantly called the council of war, but nothing definite was decided upon; and, soon after, the two friends were sitting beneath the shade of one of the trees, the Malays having withdrawn to a distance, and hostilities being for the present suspended.

"I think," said Tom Long, importantly, "that the ladies are quite right in declining to leave the fort. They are much safer there."

Bob Roberts laughed, gazed in his companion's face, and laughed again heartily; to the very great disgust of Tom Long.

"Yes," he said, gruffly, "I dare say it is very funny, and anybody can laugh like a buffoon about such an arrangement; but how are they going to be safe on board a vessel whose officers cannot keep her from running aground."

"Well that's a facer, certainly," said Bob, rather warmly; "but if you come to that, where would you have been if we hadn't come to your help— burnt out by this time, with your precious fort."

"Bob Roberts," said Tom Long, solemnly, "or rather I suppose I ought to say Mr Roberts—you are about the most quarrelsome fellow I ever met."

"You couldn't meet yourself," said Bob, "or you would run against one ten times as quarrelsome."

"If you want to fall out," said the ensign, "you might do it in a gentlemanly way."

"If you want me to punch your head, Tom Long, just say so," cried Bob, hotly.

"I repeat my words," said Tom Long, with hauteur. "If you wish to quarrel, sir, you might do it in a gentlemanly manner."

"Gentlemanly be hanged!" cried Bob. "There's nothing gentlemanly in quarrelling or fighting."

"And refer the matter to friends," continued the young military officer.

Bob's face was red as that of a turkey-cock the moment before, but at these words the anger seemed to pass away like a cloud from before the sun, and he burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Oh!" he said, "that's what you mean is it? Swords, or pistols, and seconds, early in the morning, with a doctor on the ground. Oh, I say, Tom Long, this is too delicious."

"Sir!" exclaimed Tom Long.

"I say it's too delicious. Duelling be hanged; it's fools' work; and I'm not quite fool enough to let a friend make a hole, or try to make a hole, in my precious carcase."

"Sir, none but a coward would speak as you are speaking," cried Tom Long, indignantly.

"Oh, wouldn't he?" said Bob. "Well, then, I suppose I'm a coward, for hang me if we don't get running risks enough from these coffee-coloured fellows, without trying it on among ourselves."

"I thought you more of a gentleman," said Tom Long, contemptuously.

"Oh, you did, did you?" said Bob; "and I'm a coward, am I? Well, look here, my lad, it's too hot now, but if you like to come on board to-night, or to-morrow morning, and take off your jacket like a man, I'll have it out with you in the gun-room, and old Dick to see fair, and you can bring Private Gray or Sergeant Lund."

"What do you mean?" said Tom Long, haughtily; "swords or pistols, sir?"

"Do I mean swords or pistols, sir?" said Bob, imitating the other's pompous way; "no, sir, I don't mean either. I reserve those lethal weapons, sir, for Her Majesty's enemies, sir, as an officer and a gentleman should; and when I fall out with a friend, I punch his head with my fist—like a man."

"Like a man!" said Tom Long, in tones of disgust; "like a schoolboy or a blackguard."

"No, sir," said Bob, still mimicking his companion; "the schoolboy or man who uses his fists is to my mind not half such a blackguard as the gentleman who tries to kill a fellow in cold blood, and calls it on account of his honour."

"The old contemptible argument," said Tom Long, sneering. "No one but a coward would take refuge behind such excuses."

"Then I'm a coward!" said Bob, cocking his heels up on a chair, and sticking his hands in his pockets. "All right: I'm a coward; and as we used to say at school, 'give me the coward's blow,' and if you do, Tom Long, you see if I don't punch your head."

Tom Long rose, and came at him menacingly, and Bob laughed in his face. "I say, Long, old man," he said, "what a jolly pair of fools we are to quarrel about nothing at all."

"I never want to quarrel," said Tom Long, stiffly, for the other's mirth took him aback, "but when a fellow behaves like a coward—"

"In the face of the enemy," interposed Bob, "kick him out of the service, military or naval, eh? Look here, Tommy."

"For goodness' sake, sir, don't call me by that objectionably childish name," cried the ensign. "How should you like to be called Bobby?"

"Not much, old boy," said the middy; "but I don't much care. Never mind, shake hands. No, don't. Let's do it mentally. Here's old Ali coming, looking as black as a civilian's hat. Hallo, Ali, old chap, ain't you precious proud of your dear fellow-countrymen?"

"Poor fellows; poor fellows!" said Ali, sadly, as he looked from one to the other.

"Poor fellows!" said Long.

"They're a jolly set of sharks, with stings in their tails, that's what they are," said Bob.

"The poor fellows have been crushed down by cruel governments, and made the slaves of piratical rajahs and cowardly sultans," cried Ali, indignantly. "They are a brave set of fellows, and they are only fighting against you because they are set on by their leaders."

"Then all I can say is," said Bob, "that I should like to have a pop at their leaders. But cheer up, old chap, you needn't look so down-hearted."

"Not look down-hearted," cried Ali, passionately, "how can I look otherwise? Where is my father? Where are our friends? What is my position here? Do you think it gives me pleasure to see the poor brave men who are fighting against you shot down by your guns? It makes me wretched."

"Well, never mind," cried Bob, kindly, as he rose and clapped the young chief on the shoulder. "It will all come right in the end."

"I hope so," said Ali; "but tell me, what have you decided to do?"

"Well, that's announcing the secrets of the council of war," said Bob. "Shall I tell him, Long?"

"Oh, yes, we can trust him," replied the ensign. "We are going to stay and fight it out."

"Of course, of course," said Ali, nodding. "You could not give up. You must not give up."

"But we want to get some news of the expedition party, by sending a trustworthy spy," said Bob. "Can you get us a man whom you can trust?"

Ali stood thinking for a few moments, and then shook his head sadly.

"They would all say the risk is too great. They would lose their lives if discovered."

"Then what is to be done?" cried Bob.

Ali stood thinking for a few moments in silence, and then he looked frankly from one to the other.

"I will go myself," he said.

The two young men stared at him.

"You?" they exclaimed in one breath. "Why, just now you said the risk was too great."

"That the men would lose their lives!" cried Bob Roberts.

"If they were discovered!" exclaimed Tom Long.

"Yes," said Ali, quietly, and he smiled back in their astonished faces.

"And yet you would run that risk?" said Bob Roberts.

"Yes: why not?"

"But for us?"

"Is one's life to be devoted to oneself?" said Ali calmly. "I am not as you are. You are Christians. I am a follower of the prophet. We call you dogs and giaours. You look upon us with contempt. But men are but men, the whole world over, and it seems to me that one's life cannot be better spent than in trying to do good to one's friends."

"But," said Tom Long, "you would be fighting against your friends, the Malays."

"No," said Ali, mournfully. "I should be fighting for them in doing anything that would free them from the rule of idle sensualists and pirates."

"I tell you what," cried Bob Roberts, enthusiastically, "we'll whop old Hamet and Rajah Gantang out of their skins, and you shall be sultan instead, or your father first and you afterwards."

Ali's eyes flashed as he turned them upon the speaker.

"You could be chief banjo, you know," said Bob.

"Chief—banjo?" said Ali, wonderingly.

"No, no; I mean gong—Tumongong," cried Bob.

"Oh, yes," said Ali, smiling. "But no, no: that is a dream. Let us be serious. One of your people could not go, it would be impossible; but I am a Malay, and if I dress myself as a common man—a slave—I could follow where the hunting-party went, and find out all you want to know."

"No, no," cried Bob, earnestly, "I should not like that."

"Like what, Mr Roberts?" said a voice that made them start; and turning sharply, they saw Captain Smithers standing by them, with Lieutenant Johnson.

"Mr Ali here wants to dress up as a common Malay, sir, and go as a spy to get news of the hunting-party."

"It would be excellent," cried the lieutenant. "Mr Ali, you would confer a lasting favour upon us."

"But have you thought of the risk?" said Captain Smithers.

"I have thought of everything," said the young man, quietly.

They all sat down together under the shade of the great tree where they were, and the matter was talked over, it being decided that from time to time Ali was to send messengers with news of his progress, if he could find any trustworthy enough; and all being arranged, he left them, to make preparations for his departure, shaking hands warmly with all, and then going towards the barracks, but only to return directly.

"As you may suppose," he said, "my success depends upon my not being apparently known to you; so if a strange Malay is seen leaving your lines, don't let him be fired at."

"Of course not: I see," exclaimed Captain Smithers. "But shall we see you again?"

"Not to speak to," replied Ali, smiling; and as soon as he had gone, Captain Smithers walked across the ground to give orders about a strange Malay being allowed to leave.

Lieutenant Johnson returned on board the steamer with Bob Roberts; and Tom Long, after seating himself comfortably in one chair with his legs in another, went off fast asleep.

Half an hour after, when all was very still in the burning heat of the sun, when not a breath of air rippled the river or rustled through the trees; when Englishman and Malay were resting, and the very sentries had hard work to keep from going to sleep at their posts, there was a soft rustling noise in the tree beneath which Tom Long was sleeping; and after this had been repeated several times a lithe Malay softly descended till he was within six or eight feet of the ground, when he slipped and fell, but regained his feet instantly, as Tom Long started into wakefulness and clapped his hand to his sword, upon seeing the strange Malay just before him.

The Malay, however, raised one hand deprecatingly, and smiled a very significant smile as he turned to go.

"Here, stop! surrender! Why—Oh! I say, Ali; that's capital," he said, as the Malay still smiled at him. "You quite took me in."

The Malay smiled and nodded, and walked straight off to where a sentry was watching them both; and the man, seeing the Malay come straight from his officer, made way, saluted, and the dark figure passed from the fortified lines and walked away towards where the enemy lay amongst the trees.

"That's a brave thing to do," muttered Tom Long, and resuming his seat he took another sleep, and was awakened the next time by Captain Smithers laying his hand upon his shoulder.

"Ali has gone," he said.

"Yes, I know," said Tom Long. "He quite took me in. It was a splendid disguise."

"Capital!" said Captain Smithers. "The very sentries were puzzled."

"Yes, of course they would be," replied Tom Long; and the captain walked away.

"The sentries must have been puzzled before he came to me," said Tom Long to himself. "That man yonder, though, seemed to take it as a matter of course. I shall be very glad, though, when all this hiding and dodging is over, and the hunting-party are back, for I am not going to believe that they are in danger after all."

And yet Tom Long did believe it, and was as uneasy as the rest; but it was his way of trying to put a good face upon matters.



CHAPTER FIFTY.

HOW BOB FISHED FOR MISS LINTON.

To the surprise and gratification of the English party, the jungle-station remained unmolested for the next two days, giving them ample time to make such little additions to the defences as the officers thought needful. The coming of the steamer gave the occupants of the fort command of the water and a way of retreat in case of extremities; moreover, they had the chance of sharing the ship's provisions. So that with the knowledge of their power of resistance a feeling of confidence began to exist, especially as it was evident that the Malays had been taught the danger of molesting the little party.

The enemy came and went from the island in large numbers, but kept entirely aloof, making no attempt to communicate; while their strange silence excited suspicion in Captain Smithers' mind that some plot was hatching.

The lieutenant joined him in thinking that there was cause for suspicion, and more stringent watch was kept.

Old Dick regretted keenly that for reasons of economy the furnace fires could not be kept up, for he argued still that plenty of hot water was all that was needed to keep them safe. He had, however, to be content with the ordinary precautions, promising himself the extraordinary as soon as the fires were lit.

The ladies had full occupation in tending the wounded, an occupation which saved them from much thinking; for there were no tidings of the party, and now that so long a time had elapsed it became evident that their worst fears would be realised.

In fact the officers began to debate whether the hour had not arrived when they ought to retreat; but the idea was set aside, and once more they determined to hold the station till help should come, since for the steamer to go in search of help was to condemn the little garrison of the fort to destruction.

And now as the hours slowly crept by, with the heat and inaction growing more and more difficult to bear, every thought was directed to the envoy they had sent out, and they waited anxiously for Ali's return, or for some messenger with tidings at his hands.

Though the Malays refrained from attack so long as the occupants of the station kept within their lines, any attempt at quitting the fort at once drew fire. Consequently the supplies within had to suffice, and middy and ensign thought gloomily of the past, when sampans brought daily an abundance of delicious fruit, when flowers were abundant, and fish in plenty was supplied.

Now it was bread or biscuit, and preserved meat either salt or tinned, and preserved vegetables, and so much soup that Bob Roberts said a man might just as well be living in a workhouse.

That evening he made up his mind to try for some fish, and aided and abetted by Dick, a line was rigged up, and payed out over the steamer's stern, the stream carrying down the baited hook, but only into a place where there was no likelihood of a fish being caught. So another line was attached, and another, and another—long sea-lines each of them, till Bob Roberts sat fishing with the end of a line in his hand and his bait about a quarter of a mile down the stream.

To his great delight he found the plan to answer, for before long he felt a tug, and drew in a good-sized fish. This done, he rebaited, and tried again, sometimes catching, sometimes losing, a couple dropping off the hook just as they were raised up level with the deck.

It was about an hour before sunset that Bob Roberts set Dick to work winding up the lines on the reels to dry, and then, having placed the brilliantly scaled fish in the basket, he obtained leave from the lieutenant, who looked longingly at the catch, and involuntarily made the noise with his lips customary with some people at the sight of anything nice.

"What are you going to do with those, Roberts?" he said.

"Take them to the ladies, sir."

"Ah! yes: of course, the ladies first. We ought to study the ladies. But do you know, Roberts, I'm not a ladies' man, and I feel an intense desire to have one of those fish—broiled."

"Yes, sir, of course; but I'll come back and catch some more."

"Yes, do," said Lieutenant Johnson, gazing longingly at the fish. "There," he cried hastily; "for goodness' sake be off with them, Roberts, or I shall impound the lot and hand them over to the cook. You ought not to put such temptations in a weak man's way."

"All right, sir," said Bob, and he hurried over the side and made for the barracks, where, to his great delight, he met Rachel Linton, looking very pale and ill, coming away from the temporary hospital with her cousin.

"I've brought you some fish, Miss Linton," he said. "I thought they would be welcome just now, as there are no fresh provisions."

"Doubly welcome, Mr Roberts," cried Miss Linton, with her face lighting up. "Oh! Mary, I am glad. Mr Roberts, I can never thank you enough."

Bob felt rather disgusted that the idol he had worshipped should be so fond of the good things of this life.

"I have been longing for fresh fish, and fruit, and flowers, so, Mr Roberts," she continued. "You cannot get me any fruit or flowers, I suppose?"

"I could go and try for some," said Bob, rather glumly, "but you mustn't be surprised if I don't come back."

"Oh, no, no; you must not run any risks," cried Rachel Linton. "That would be madness, but I'd give anything for some fruit now."

"She'd better think about her father," thought Bob, "instead of eating and drinking."

"Those poor wounded fellows do suffer so for want of change; but this fish will be delicious. Poor Parker will eat some, I know. If you can get any fruit for my hospital people, pray do so, Mr Roberts."

"That I will, Miss Linton," he cried joyously.

"And you'll catch me some more fish for the poor fellows?"

"Are you going to give all these to the wounded men, Miss Linton?" he said.

"Yes; of course," she replied.

"Why she's an angel," thought Bob to himself, "and I was giving her the credit of being a regular pig."

"Messenger? For me?" exclaimed Captain Smithers, rising up as a soldier advanced.

"Yes sir; it's a Malay, and he says he has been sent by the young chief, Ali."



CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

DEALINGS WITH THE DEEP.

There was no little excitement at this announcement, and Captain Smithers sent at once for Lieutenant Johnson from the steamer, while a file of soldiers went for the messenger who had asked for admission.

The ladies were too much interested to think of leaving, so Mary Sinclair ran to fetch Mrs Major Sandars, and returned with her to see that a rough-looking Malay had been brought up to the group she had left.

Captain Smithers waited a few moments, to allow of the coming of the lieutenant; and meanwhile they all gazed at the Malay, a wild, half-naked fellow, whose scraps of clothing were torn by contact with thorns, and being soaked with water clung to his copper-coloured skin.

He was scratched and bleeding, and gazed sharply round from one to the other in a strange wild-eyed way, as if feeling that he was not safe.

Just then the lieutenant came hurrying up, and the Malay, evidently supposing him to be the officer he sought, began to unfasten a knot in his sarong, from which he took a short piece of bamboo about the size of a man's finger. One end of this was plugged with a piece of pith, and this he drew out, and then from inside, neatly rolled up and quite dry, a little piece of paper.

"You Cap-tain Smit-ter?" said the Malay.

"No, my man, that is the captain," said the lieutenant, pointing. "Cap-tain Smit-ter. Ali Rajah send," said the man, holding out the paper.

"Did Ali send us this?" said the captain, eagerly.

"Cap-tain Smit-ter, Ali Rajah send," said the man again.

"Where did you leave him?" said the captain.

"Cap-tain Smit-ter, Ali Rajah send," repeated the man, parrot fashion, showing plainly enough that he had been trained to use these words and no more.

Captain Smithers unrolled the scrap of native paper to find written thereon,—

"Found the party. Fighting for life in a stockade. Send help in steamer up right river.—Ali."

"Have you come straight from him?" exclaimed the captain, eagerly.

"Cap-tain Smit-ter, Ali Rajah send," said the man again.

"Where is Wilson?" cried the captain, "or Gray? Ah, you are here, Gray. You have made some progress with the Malay tongue. See what this man knows."

Private Gray came forward, and by degrees, and with no little difficulty, learned from the Malay that the English party were in an old stockade upon a branch of the river, forty miles away, defending themselves against a strong body of the sultan's forces.

"Ask if they are well," said the captain.

"He says there are many ill, and many wounded, and that they have buried many under the palm-trees," said Gray, in a low sad voice, "and that when the young chief, Ali, came upon them, they were at the last extremity from weakness and hunger."

Rachel Linton uttered a low wail, but on Mrs Major Sandars passing an arm round her, she made an effort and mastered her emotion, fixing her eyes on Adam Gray as, in a low, deep voice he continued the narrative after, at Captain Smithers' wish, again questioning the Malay.

"He says that after giving him the message to bear, the young chief, Ali, left him, saying that he was about to try and join the party in the old stockade, and fight with them to the end!"

There was a mournful silence at this, and for a few moments no one spoke. Then Captain Smithers leaned towards Lieutenant Johnson.

"Have you any questions to put?" he said.

"Yes," replied the lieutenant, and he turned round to their interpreter.

"Tell me, Gray, what is your opinion of the messenger?"

"At first, sir, I thought him genuine; but since then, there is something in his manner that makes me doubt the truth of his tale."

"And yet it seems feasible?"

"Yes, sir, it does; and I confess I have little cause for doubting him; but still I do."

Lieutenant Johnson turned to Captain Smithers, and they went aside for a few minutes talking earnestly together, while all present watched eagerly for the next scene in the drama they were passing through.

"Gray," said Captain Smithers then, sharply, "ask the messenger if he knows where the old stockade is."

"He says yes, sir, perfectly well."

"Ask him if he will guide the steamer there."

"Yes!" was the reply, "if the English officers would protect him from his people, and not let him be seen."

"Tell him," said Captain Smithers, "that if he is faithful he will be handsomely paid; if he is treacherous, he will be hung to the yard-arm of the steamer, and his body thrown to the crocodiles."

Gray interpreted this to the Malay, who smiled, uncovered the hilt of his kris, drew it, took it by the blade, and knelt down before the officers, placing the point upright on the left shoulder close to his neck, then reaching out with his right hand, he motioned to Captain Smithers to strike the weapon down into his breast.

"He says his life is yours, sir, and bids you kill him if he does not lead you to the stockade."

"One more question," said Lieutenant Johnson. "Ask him if there is water enough up the right river?"

Gray questioned the Malay, who nodded eagerly and then shook his head.

"He says there is plenty of water, for the river is narrow and very deep, all but in one place, about a mile from the stockade, and of that he is not sure, he will not pledge himself to its being sufficiently deep; but all Rajah Gantang's prahus have gone up and down in safety."

"That will do," said the lieutenant.

"Yes," said Captain Smithers, "take him aside, give him some food, and guard him well."

It fell to the lot of Adam Gray to take charge of the Malay who ate voraciously of what was placed before him, and then smiling his satisfaction he prepared himself a piece of betel-nut, and lying down in the shade went off fast asleep, evidently wearied out.

Meanwhile a short consultation was held, during which it was settled that at any risk the steamer must go to the assistance of the beleaguered party, Captain Smithers being on the alert to retire into the barracks when it became necessary.

This place he would have to hold with stubborn determination, knowing that the steamer could not be long away, and that Lieutenant Johnson was going with the knowledge that those he left behind were in need of help.

The fires were lit on the instant, and every effort made to get the steam up, but all was done as quietly as possible, so as not to take the attention of the Malays, and about ten o'clock all was ready for the start, when Adam Gray went and roused up the Malay.

The man rose, shook himself, and then accompanied his guide without a word, climbing the side of the steamer, where everything was ready; the cables were cast loose, and at half-steam the great vessel moved softly up the river by the light of the stars, which just made their way visible.

As far as they could see, the alarm of the departure had not been spread; and the steamer glided away so softly, and with so little noise, that there was the chance of her escaping the notice of the Malays, who might not find out their departure until morning.

This would delay any attack that might be made for many hours; but all the same, Captain Smithers felt it better to at once evacuate the outer works, and two hours after the steamer had glided away, almost invisible to those who saw her go, the outer works were lying unguarded, and the whole of the force safely barricaded in the stronghold, with every sentry on the alert.

Everything had been done in the quietest manner. There was neither noise nor loud order; the men caught the lightest whisper; and there was something weird and strange-looking in the silent figures moving here and there; but nothing like so weird of aspect as about a couple of dozen dark shadows that were creeping over the ground taking advantage of every bush or inequality of the ground to cover their movements till they reached the deserted earth-works, and crouched there exultingly.

An hour later the sky was overclouded; and in the darkness the Malays came crowding up by hundreds, evidently ready for an assault, while most ominous of all was the fact that numbers of them bore bundles of light wood, and some lumps of dammar ready to continue the task they had had to give up, consequent upon the steamer's return.



CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

HOW THE STEAMER WENT UP THE RIGHT ARM OF THE RIVER.

A night journey on a river, when the stars give but little light, and the banks are dense jungle overhanging the water's edge, is one of no little difficulty. Certainly the crew of the steamer had upon their side the fact, that the stream, though swift, was deep, and its bottom mud. There were no rocks and cataracts to encounter in its lower course; and even if they did run aground, there was but little risk to the vessel. But all the same the most constant watchfulness was needed, and Lieutenant Johnson himself joined the look-out at the bows, communicating by a chain of his men with the engine-room and man at the wheel.

For some distance after leaving the island they proceeded very slowly, little more than mastering the stream; but as soon as they felt that they were beyond hearing the speed was increased, and for some miles— through which the course of the river was well-known—the "Startler" proceeded at a pretty good rate, so that by morning half the journey was accomplished, and they were abreast of the stockade they had attacked and destroyed.

About a couple of miles past this the course of the right river opened out, one that a navigator strange to the river would have hesitated to take, for it was narrow at the mouth, overgrown with trees, and seemed to form a chain of lakes, that were one blaze of colour with the blossom of the lotus.

On the other hand, what seemed the regular course of the river ran broad and clear, and apparently without obstruction of any kind.

The Malay, who was leaning over the bulwark with his mouth distended with betel, pointed one brown arm towards the narrow branch, and the steamer's engines were slackened and nearly stopped while a boat was lowered, and the crew rowed some little distance along the winding, sluggish stream, sounding every few yards, to find the river extremely deep with muddy bottom; and as it seemed to wind right on precisely the same in character, they returned and reported the result to the lieutenant, who at once gave orders, and the steamer entered the narrow, winding way.

To all appearance they might have been the first visitors to those regions, so haunted was the strangely beautiful scene by wild creatures. Birds in abundance fled at their approach. Now it was a white eagle, then a vividly plumaged kingfisher, or a kind of black, racket-tailed daw with glossy plumage. Parrots of a diminutive size and dazzling green plumage flitted before them; and from time to time the lotus leaves were agitated by a shoal of fish, that alarmed by the wash of the steamer rushed away.

Every now and then, too, Bob Roberts, who was feasting on what passed like a glorious panorama before him, had his adventure with Ali in the shooting-trip brought vividly to mind, for some huge reptile or another shuffled into the slow stream, while others lay sluggishly basking, and ill-disposed to move.

Their progress was slow, for the screw-propeller was more than once fouled by the thick weed, through which they ploughed their way. So dense was it that at times it gathered in large cables, stretching from bank to bank, and literally barring further progress, till the steamer was backed and driven at full speed against the obstruction, which divided and swept off in hillocks to starboard and to port.

Then a more open stretch of water would be gained, widening quite into a lake, and framed in glorious tropical verdure; large pools would be quite free from vegetable growth, and so clear that the bright scales of the fish could be seen flashing far below. Then the river seemed to wind its way through dense growths of lily and other water plants, amidst which water-fowl in endless numbers disported themselves, but fled away at the sight of the steamer, panting onward through this wilderness of beauty.

For in spite of the anxiety felt by all, and their eagerness to reach the spot where their friends were in peril, it was impossible to help gazing with wonder and admiration at the loveliness of all around. Where the stream narrowed, the great trees growing to the water's edge formed huge walls of verdure, in parts a hundred—two hundred feet high; and over and amidst these wreathed and twined the beautiful creepers, filling up every gap with leaves of the most delicious, tender green. Then a tree would be passed one mass of white and tinted blossoms, another of scarlet, and again another of rich crimson, while in every damp, sun-flecked opening wondrous orchids could be seen carpeting the earth with their strange forms and glowing colours. Pitcher-plants too, some of huge size, dotted the ground every here and there where the steamer passed close to the shore—so close at times that the ends of the yards brushed the trees; and yet the vessel took no harm, for the deep water ran in places to the banks, and though often half covered with weedy growth, the river was canal-like in its deeper parts, where the sluggish stream steadily flowed along to join its more rapid brother miles below.

For some time now Lieutenant Johnson had been bitterly regretting that he had not insisted upon bringing Private Gray, so as to have an interpreter, for his own knowledge of the Malay tongue was almost nil. And yet he was obliged to own that it would have been unjust to rob them at the station of part of their strength, when at any moment they might want it all.

Bob Roberts was the better Malay scholar of the two, but his vocabulary only extended to asking for a durian, Good morning! How are you? and the favourite Malay proverbial saying,—"Apa boleh booat"—It was to be, or It couldn't be helped.

They had been progressing now for hours, and the heat was insufferable— a heavy, moist heat, in that narrow way, shut in between two walls of verdure, and yet there seemed to be no signs of their journey being nearly ended. Under the circumstances Bob Roberts was set to try and get some information out of their guide, whom he tried with "Good morning," in the Malay tongue; and then, after a civil answer to his remark, plunged at once into plain English with,—

"How much farther is it?"

The Malay looked hard in his eyes, and Bob repeated the question.

The Malay seemed to divine what he meant, for he raised one bare brown arm and pointed forward along the course of the river.

It was a mute but conclusive reply, telling the middy plainly enough that they had farther to go, and once more the attention of all was taken up by the navigation of the narrow winding channel.

Still there was no fault to be found with Ali's message, for the water was deep, and though the steamer seemed at times to be running right into the bank, there was always room to turn what looked to be an ugly curve, and onward they went through the dense jungle.

On either side the primeval forest seemed to stretch away, and where there were changes of a more park-like character, so rare was the sight of a human being there that the shy pea-fowl, all metallic plumage and glorious eyes, could be seen gazing at the steamer before taking flight. There were deer too seen occasionally, and had this been a pleasure-trip the sportsman would have had ample use for rifle or gun.

But this was no pleasure-trip, for the deck was cleared for action, and the men were at their quarters, ready to send shot or shell hurtling through the jungle whenever there should be a reason for such a step.

Another hour, and another, and still the Malay guide pointed before him, gesticulating a little sometimes, as if bidding them hasten onwards.

The speed was increased at such times, though it was risky, for the narrowness of the course, and the size of the steamer, rendered the greatest care necessary to avoid running her bows in among the trees.

Lieutenant Johnson stamped impatiently at last as the sun was descending behind the trees, and still the Malay pointed onwards.

"It is enough to make one think it a wild goose chase!" he exclaimed. "We have made a grievous mistake in not having an interpreter. Roberts, you ought to be able to speak the Malay tongue."

"Yes, sir," said Bob, "I ought!" And then to himself, "So ought you!"

Another hour and they were passing through a denser part than ever; so close were they that the large drooping boughs of some of the trees cracked and rustled and snapped as they passed by, to get to what seemed to be quite a lagoon shining clear and silvery, as seen by those on board the steamer through quite a tunnel of overhanging branches.

"We ought to be able to hear firing by this time if it is going on at the stockade," said the lieutenant. "What a place to bring Her Majesty's ship into! If I did not know that those poor fellows were anxiously expecting help, not a fathom further would I take the steamer than into yon open water to-night! Here! fetch that Malay fellow here, and let's see if we cannot get something out of him!"

Bob Roberts went forward to where the Malay stood, leaning over the bulwarks gazing at the trees on either side—at least he went to where the Malay did stand gazing at the trees, but now to Bob's astonishment the man was not there!

"Where's the Malay guide?" he said sharply to Dick, who was nearest to him.

"Well, sir, if you call that there chap a guide," said Dick, "I've done."

"I say where's the Malay guide?" said Bob, angrily.

"Haven't seen him, sir," said Dick, touching his cap.

"But he was standing here not ten minutes ago, just before we brushed against those trees!" exclaimed the young officer.

"Well yes, sir, I remember as he was," said old Dick, and several of the sailors were ready to affirm that they saw him not five minutes before.

A look round the deck showed that he was not there, and Bob stood looking puzzled; for the man had evidently looked upon himself almost as a prisoner, and not free to go about; he had consequently stood leaning against the port bulwark all the time, except when he had squatted on the deck to partake of the food supplied to him.

"Couldn't have been knocked overboard by the boughs, could he, sir?" said Dick.

"Impossible!" exclaimed the middy; and he hurried off to report the fact that the Malay was missing.

"Are you sure?" exclaimed the lieutenant sharply.

"Certain, sir! He's nowhere on deck!"

"I thought as much!" cried the lieutenant angrily. "Good heavens, Roberts! that we could have been such idiots! Gray was right!"

"I do not understand you, sir."

"Understand? It's plain enough! That man, Private Gray, said he suspected the fellow, and yet we allowed him to gull us with his plausible story. Here, look sharp there!" he cried, as the steamer stood out now free of the tunnel-like canal, through which she had passed, and was now approaching the centre of a tolerably broad lagoon.

The lieutenant gave his command in short, sharp, decisive tones, and a minute later a little anchor fell with a splash into the water, and the steamer swung in the just perceptible stream.

"I dare not attempt the journey back to-night, Roberts," he said. "We should be aground in the thick darkness before we had gone a mile."

"But won't you go forward, sir? We must be near the stockade!" exclaimed Bob.

"If we go on till the river becomes a ditch, we shall find no stockade here, Roberts!" cried the lieutenant. "Why should there be one? There is neither campong nor sampan upon the river, and it is evident that there is no trade. No, Roberts, we have been tricked—cheated, and we must get back at full speed as soon as day begins to break. I have been uncomfortable for hours now, as I felt that our poor friends could never have come through such a forest as this. It is only passable for beasts!"

"But the Malay and his message?"

"The Malay is as great a cheat as the old fruit-seller; and that message was never written by young Ali, unless he, too, is an enemy!"

"My life upon it, he is not," cried Bob.

"Then either he has been killed, or our plans were overheard, or betrayed, or something or another! That fellow—I see it all now it is too late—has quietly led us up here, awaiting his chance, and it came when those big boughs swept the side. He swung himself into one of the trees, and is by this time on his way back to his friends."

"But the jungle is not passable!" said Bob.

"Then he will make a bamboo raft and get down the river. Oh, that we could be such fools!"

Bob Roberts stood in the gathering darkness staring at his superior officer, and trying hard to believe that the Malay might have been swept over by accident; but by degrees he felt his mind veering round to the lieutenant's ideas.

The next minute orders were being given respecting the watch on deck, every light was extinguished, and extra care taken lest they should have been led into a trap and attempts be made to board the steamer during the night. But as the hours glided on, all they heard was the distant roar of some beast of prey, or an occasional splash in the water—sounds that had a strange attraction for Bob Roberts, as, with no thought of going to his cot, he leaned against the bulwark watching the fire-flies amid the trees, and mournfully wondered how they were getting on at the station, and what had become of Ali, shuddering again and again as the lieutenant's ominous words recurred to his mind.



CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.

PRIVATE SIM IS VERY WIDE AWAKE.

Lieutenant Johnson had said that in all probability Ali had been killed, this being of course his surmise, for he had no real reason for such an assertion. He was quite right, though, about having been tricked, for one of Rajah Gantang's cleverest spies after hearing from his hiding-place the plans that had been made, assumed the part of Ali in disguise, and passed unchallenged by the sentries to go straight to the rajah and plan with him a way to divide the forces by sending the steamer upon a false scent.

This had been done, with the success that has been seen. But though the little garrison was awakened to a sense of its danger, very soon after the steamer had taken its departure, it did not realise the fact that they had all been deceived.

All the requisite precautions had been taken, and saving the guard, the little garrison had lain down to sleep, according to Captain Smithers' instructions, for he had addressed them before they were dismissed.

"There may be no danger," he had said, "but we must be on the alert, so let every man lie down in his clothes, with his arms close at hand. Sergeant Lund, see that the men's pouches are supplied with cartridges. To-morrow, my lads, I hope to see the steamer back, with our rescued friends!"

The men gave a cheer and departed. The guard was relieved, and Captain Smithers stood talking to Tom Long.

"My dear lad," said the former, "there is not the slightest need for any such proceeding. Go and lie down. I shall visit the sentries for the first half of the night, and I will call you about three."

"I don't feel much disposed for sleep," said Tom Long, who looked uneasy.

"You are not well. The heat has overdone you a little. You go and have a good sleep," said the captain. "To-morrow I hope we shall have the doctor back among us to set us right."

"I hope so, too," said Tom Long, gloomily; and going to his quarters he lay down, with his sword and revolver beside him, ready for use.

Adam Gray was off duty, and he, too, had gone to lie down. But he could not sleep, neither did he wish to do anything else but lie there and think about Rachel Linton, and how pale and unhappy she appeared. He longed to speak words of comfort to her, and to say others as well; but he dared not, for his position forbade it. Still he could not help feeling that she did not look unkindly upon him, nor seem to consider him to be one of the ordinary soldiers.

He sighed as he thought of other days, and then lay listening to the humming noise made by the mosquitoes—wondered whether Rachel Linton was asleep or awake—whether, if she was awake, she was thinking of him.

Then he drove away the thoughts with an angry exclamation, and determined to think about her no more. But as he turned his face to the open window, and listened to the faint hum of the night insects, Rachel Linton's face came back, and he was thinking of her again, and this time in connection with Captain Smithers.

He knew the captain loved her, and instinctively hated him—Private Gray. He felt, too, that by some means or another the captain knew of, and hated him for, his presumptuous love; the more so that Rachel Linton did not seem to care in the slightest degree for the captain's advances, but rather avoided him.

Private Gray turned again and again, but he could not lie there any longer for the uneasy feeling that tormented him.

The men in the long room slept easily enough, but he could not, and he told himself that he might just as well get up and go and watch with one of the sentries, for then he would be doing something towards protecting the station.

He rose then softly, and fastening on his belt with the bayonet attached, he went cautiously out into the night air, to see that though the stars twinkled brightly, the night was very dark. All was perfectly still, and as he went cautiously round, every man seemed to be on the watch, when suddenly a thought struck him which sent a cold shiver through his breast.

He was standing just beneath the window of the officers' quarters, where he knew that Rachel Linton and her cousin would be sleeping, and the sentry nearest, the man who should be on the keenest watch, was, if he was not mistaken, Private Sim.

He could not make out for certain from where he stood, but he felt almost certain that this was the case, and that Sim was occupying the most important outpost of the little fort.

With his heart beating wildly he crept back to the place where the men lay asleep, and going on tiptoe from one to the other, he satisfied himself by the dim light of the lamp swinging from the roof that Private Sim was not there.

"It was utter madness," he muttered to himself. "Lund should have known," and in his excitement he recalled to mind the night when he had found him asleep.

He remembered, too, what a fearful night that was, and he felt that this might prove to be just as dangerous, as he hurried back, catching up his rifle and pouch as he went, and then going quietly along to where Private Sim was stationed.

It was undoubtedly the weakest spot about the fort, and in place of one untrustworthy man, two of the most trusty should have been stationed there. By some error of judgment, however, this was not done, and Private Sim held the lives of all in the little fort within his hand.

Gray thought that after all he might be misjudging him, and therefore he went on cautiously, listening as he stopped from time to time, and expecting to be challenged; but there was no sound to be heard, and as Gray went closer it seemed to him as if no sentry had been placed there. But as he went nearer there was no error of judgment upon his part. It was as he suspected. Private Sim was seated on the ground, his rifle across his lap, fast asleep, and quite oblivious of the fact that his messmate stood close beside him, panting with rage and disgust.

"You scoundrel!" he cried in a low, passionate voice. "Do you not know that the punishment may be death for sleeping at a time like this?"

As he spoke he struck the sleeper heavily upon the head with the butt of his rifle, and Sim started up and grappled with him, just as a dozen Malays sprang out of the darkness, and made at the defence between them.

The struggle between the two was but brief, for Gray threw Sim off, and brought his bayonet to bear against the Malays, forgetting in his excitement to load and fire, so that it was Sim's rifle that gave the alarm.

For the next few minutes the two men fought side by side, their bayonets keeping the Malays back every time they strove to enter the place, and driving them off successfully till help came, and two or three volleys did the rest.

"How was this? How did it happen that you did not see the enemy approaching sooner, Private Sim?" said Captain Smithers, sternly.

Sim trembled for his life, knowing as he did that over matters of discipline the captain was a stern man, and that he must expect no mercy for his fault if Gray spoke out, and told all he knew; so he exclaimed hastily, and with a malicious look at Gray,—

"How could I, sir, when there are traitors in the camp?"

"Traitors! What do you mean?"

"I mean a traitor, sir! Private Gray there came up behind me, leaped upon me, and held his hand over my mouth to keep me still, while he whistled to the Malays to come in by the opening, there."

"You lying—"

"Silence, Private Gray!" cried Captain Smithers, and all that was evil in his nature came to the surface, as he felt that here was an opportunity for disgracing, if not putting his rival to death; and a strange feeling of savage joy animated him for the moment. "Silence, Private Gray!" he cried. "Speak out, Private Sim. Do you mean to assert that this man served you as you say?"

"Look at me, sir!" cried Sim, showing his disordered uniform. "That was done in the struggle; and I did not fire as soon as I could have wished."

"Show me your rifle, Sim," said the captain.

Sim held out his piece, while, choking with rage and astonishment, Gray stood speechless in their midst.

The piece was examined, and it had just been discharged.

"Show me your piece, Gray," said Captain Smithers.

Gray held it out, and it was quite clean. It was not loaded, and it had not lately been discharged.

"I tried as hard as I could, captain!" whined Sim; "but he came upon me so sudden like, that I was mastered at once."

"What were you doing there, Gray? You were not on duty. Your place was in bed."

"I could not sleep, sir," said Gray. "I doubted this man, and I came to see."

"Why, you jumped right on me, sudden like, out of the darkness!" said Sim.

"Silence, Sim!" said the Captain. "Gray, this charge must be investigated. You are under arrest. Sergeant, put this man in irons!"

"But, Captain—"

"Silence, sir! You can make your defence when you are tried by court-martial."

"I hope, captain," whined Sim, "that it won't be my doing as he's punished. I'd a deal rather help a fellow than get him into trouble."

"You are on duty, sir! Attend to your post!" cried Captain Smithers.

He turned angrily then on Private Gray, who was so cruelly mortified, especially as, glancing upward, he saw the window was open, and Rachel Linton and her cousin there, that he could not or would not speak a word in his defence. He gave Sim a look that made that scoundrel shiver, and then said to himself:

"She will not believe that I am a traitor!"

He glanced involuntarily upwards as this thought occurred to him, and the captain ground his teeth with rage as he saw the glance; but feeling as he did that he had his rival beneath his heel, a glow of triumph ran through him.

The next moment, though, all that was gentlemanly and true came to the surface, and he felt that Private Gray was not the man who could be guilty of such a crime. Sim must be the offending party, and Gray be too proud to speak. He could not iron him, or doubt his honour; he was too true a man; and as Sergeant Lund unwillingly came forward with a file of men, the captain motioned him back.

"This is no time for making prisoners," he said. "Sergeant, change the sentry here. Place two men on guard. Private Sim, go to the guard-room: I may want to question you. Private Gray, this is an awful charge against you, and if you are guilty you will be shot."

There was a faint sound as of some one's breath catching at the window above, but it was heard by Captain Smithers and Private Gray alone as they stood face to face.

"I know it, captain!" said Gray, quietly.

"We are in face of the enemy," continued Captain Smithers. "Take your rifle again, and help to defend the place. You had better die by the spear of a Malay. Go to the guard-room now; and mind, if any words pass between you and Private Sim—"

"Quick, sir, the alarm!" cried Gray, pointing out beneath the stars. "The enemy!"

"Fire, sentry!" cried Captain Smithers; and the report of a rifle rang out on the still night air, for the Malays were advancing in force.

Fresh shots were fired on all sides as the men turned out, and were at their various places in a very few moments, the wisdom of the captain's commands being manifest; and as he saw Private Gray go down on one knee and begin firing, with careful aim, at the advancing enemy,—"He's no traitor," he muttered; "and I never doubted him at heart."

He had no time for further thought, for the attack had become general, and the Malays seemed furious, striving hard to gain an entry, but always encountering one or two bayonets at every point, till, after half an hour's fierce struggle, they drew back, leaving a number of dead and wounded around the place.

The defenders of the little fort drew breath at this, and as the firing ceased, the major's wife, with Rachel Linton and her cousin, came round, first with refreshments for the exhausted men, and, as soon as they were distributed, began to bandage those who were wounded.

It was while they were busy over this task, that in the darkness Rachel Linton came upon a man leaning against the breast-work, gazing attentively out at the position of the enemy.

"Are you wounded?" she asked; and at her words Private Gray started round and faced her.

"Only slightly," he said, "in body—but deeply in spirit."

"Let me bind your wound," said Rachel Linton, hoarsely, and her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Which?" he said bitterly, as they stood alone.

"Let me bind your arm," she said quietly now, as she drew a long breath.

"It is but a scratch," he said carelessly, "a spear thrust."

Without another word Rachel Linton slit open the sleeve of the jacket he wore, and deftly bandaged the double wound, for the thrust had gone right through Gray's arm. Then rising, she stood before him for a moment or two.

"You asked which wound would I bind up, Adam Gray," she said sadly. "I have bound up one. If my words will help to bind up the other, let me tell you that I do not believe the foul charge made against you."

The rifle fell against Gray's wounded arm as he caught the speaker's hand in his, and raised it to his lips.

"You have done more," he said; "you have healed it."

For the next few moments he stood there as if holding the hand in his, though Rachel Linton had hurried away. Then he started, for he became aware that Tom Long had seen what had taken place, and was now standing leaning on his sword. But he did not speak, he only turned away, leaving Gray watching, and thinking hopefully now of the charge he had to meet.

"Smithers is a gentleman," he said to himself; "they cannot shoot me for what I have not done."

Then he began to wonder how the steamer had sped, and how soon they would bring back their friends. This was the more important, as he felt sure that a few such determined efforts on the Malay's part, and the little garrison must succumb.

"He is a brave young fellow, that Ali," he thought, "and has managed well."

Then he stood gazing out over the dark ground in front, where here and there he could make out the dimly seen form of some unfortunate combatant, who had not been carried off by his friends.

It was darker now than ever, and he was silently watching for danger, when a faint rustling noise caught his ear, and he brought his piece down to the present, for undoubtedly one of the bodies lying on the dark earth was in motion, and crawling slowly towards where he stood.



CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

THE END OF ALI'S MISSION.

Adam Gray's finger was on the trigger of his piece, but he did not fire, though he carefully covered the figure before him, and watched attentively to make sure that it was no hallucination.

He had marked that figure before; one that lay face downwards, apparently just as the man had fallen from a shot. And now the dimly seen arms had changed positions—there was no doubt of that—and the figure was crawling forward.

What did it mean? Either it was a poor wounded wretch, striving hard to get relief and help, or else it was a trick on the part of a treacherous Malay, who was trying to put in force a North American Indian's tactics, and creeping forward to stab a sentry.

"And so gain an entrance into the fort," thought Adam Gray. "Well, my poor wretch, you will not do it, unless both my rifle ball and bayonet should miss."

Just then the figure stopped, and lay quite motionless; and again Gray hesitated, feeling sure that he must have been deceived, as he gazed now at the figure where it lay, some twenty yards away.

There it was, perfectly motionless, and in that darkness Gray felt that he really could not be sure about it. After all, the figure might be lying where it had first lain. It was impossible to say.

His doubts were dispelled the next moment, for the figure was once more in motion, and stopped short as the lock of the sentry's rifle clicked.

"Don't shoot!" said a voice in English; "I am a friend."

"If you move again, I fire!" said Gray in a low, stern voice. "Who are you?"

"Is that Private Gray?" said the voice.

"Mr Ali, is that you?" cried Gray, leaning towards him.

"Yes, it is I," said the figure, crawling rapidly towards him.

"What are you doing with the enemy?"

"Trying to make my way to you. They will not see now. Give me your hand, and I will climb up."

Gray leaned out over the breast-work, gave his hand to the young man, and, with a little exercise of his muscular strength, half-drew, half-aided him to climb into the stronghold—just as Captain Smithers and Tom Long leaped upon them, seizing each his man, and holding his sword to his throat.

"You doubly-dyed scoundrel!" cried Captain Smithers. "Caught him in the act! Call the guard there!"

"Don't you know me, Long?" said a voice that made Tom lower his sword point.

"Ali!" cried Captain Smithers; "you here?"

"Yes, I am back," said the young man sadly.

"Gray, my good fellow," cried Captain Smithers, "fate seems to have ordained that I should doubt you."

"Fate is sometimes very cruel to us all, sir," said Gray, coldly, as the captain set him free, and turned to Ali.

"You found them, then?"

"No," said Ali, sadly.

"But the stockade?"

"What stockade?"

"Where you found them. The steamer went off early in the night."

"The steamer went off? Where?"

"Don't waste time, man, in puzzles," cried the captain, excitedly, as he felt that something was wrong. "You sent a messenger?"

"I sent no messenger," said Ali, excitedly.

"Yes, yes; the man with the writing in a bamboo?"

"I sent no man," said Ali, sadly. "You have been cheated—over-reached by your enemies."

"But did you not find them?"

"No, I was hemmed-in at every turn; and at last, in despair I have crawled back here, hardly saving my life, your sentries are so keen."

"This is dreadful," said Captain Smithers. "How we have been deluded!"

He took a few steps to and fro, and then paused before Ali, gazing at him searchingly.

"Sir," he said, "we are each of different nations, and your people are at war with mine. Why should I trust you? why should I believe in your words? How do I know that I am not talking to one who believes it to be a virtue to slay people of my creed?"

Ali looked at him wonderingly for a few moments before he spoke, slowly,—

"Because you know that I am honest," he said; "and if I am not, you have your resource there. Kill me."

Captain Smithers resumed his agitated walk to and fro.

"This is dreadful!" he said, excitedly. "Those poor fellows have been inveigled away like the hunting-party, and perhaps by this time there is a second massacre."

"I think you exaggerate," said Ali, quietly. "The hunting-party have been led away by a ruse, and the steamer sent upon an errand by a clever trick. But Captain Horton and Major Sandars are not men to give up the lives of their following without a bitter struggle. And as for Lieutenant Johnson—"

"And Mr Roberts," interposed Tom Long.

"Yes, with Mr Roberts," said Ali, "he is too strong in guns and men to be easily overcome, unless by—"

"Treachery? Yes," said the captain. "And that is what I dread."

"To such an extent," said Ali, with a quiet smile, "that you doubt your friends."

"For the moment only," said Captain Smithers, holding out his hand, which the other frankly grasped. "You must remember—my position, sir."

"I do," said Ali. "Now give me a rifle and revolver; we may be attacked at any moment."

"We?" said Tom Long holding out his hand.

"Yes," said Ali, smiling; "and if we get safely through this trouble you will have to try and make me more of an Englishman than I am."

Even while he was speaking the Malays renewed their attack with the greatest pertinacity, it being evident that their object was to capture the fort before the steamer could render help. They seemed to be roused to a pitch of mad fury by the resistance they encountered and their losses, attacking with such determination that it needed no words on Captain Smithers' part to warn his little garrison that they must fight to the death.

With a civilised enemy it would have been quite reasonable to have surrendered long ago, but with such a foe as Rajah Gantang, a pirate of the worst Malay type, such an act as surrender would have meant giving all up to a horrible death.

Never was daylight more welcome than when it appeared to the defenders of that little stronghold, who, gaunt, haggard, and faint with exertion, saw the sky suddenly turn to orange and gold; and then the sun rose over the widespread jungle, sending the wreathing night-mists floating amidst the feathery palms, and seeming to dissolve into thin air.

The first order given by Captain Smithers was to have a signal of distress run up to the top of the flagstaff; the next to try and strengthen the defences, which were sorely dilapidated. Some of the barricading planks and forms were torn down, others riddled with bullets.

Through the rough straw mattresses spears were sticking in a dozen directions, and what had looked hopeless again and again during the night seemed doubly so by day.

But Captain Smithers was not made of the stuff to give up. He had those under his charge whom he was ready to render his life to save; and the spirit that animated his breast seemed to infuse itself in the spirits of the others. He was half mad with jealousy; and angered almost beyond bearing at the thought that Rachel Linton should favour, as he was sure now that she did, a private soldier in preference to him. But he cast away all narrow selfishness, for he was obliged to confess that Gray was no common man, but evidently a gentleman by education if not by birth.

Casting aside, then, all unworthy thoughts, he roused Tom Long from a short sleep that he had made him take. He said a few encouraging words to the men, and then went to join the ladies, who had anticipated his wishes, and were ready with plenty of refreshments for the jaded defenders of the fort.

It is wonderful what efficacy there is in a cup of hot coffee and a big biscuit. Men who, ten minutes before, had stood rifle in hand, dejected and utterly worn-out, lost their haggard looks and seemed to pull themselves together after partaking of the cup of comfort that the ladies brought round.

Rifles were wiped out, belts tightened; and with brightening eyes the men seemed ready to give a good account of the enemy when they closed in for their next attack.

"I have bad news for you, Captain Smithers," said Rachel Linton to him, quietly, as she took the cup she had given him from his hands.

"I don't think you can give me worse news than I already know," he said, sadly.

"Yes, but I can," she said, with her brows knitting with pain for his suffering. "The heat of the day will soon be upon us, and we have no more water."

These words roused the captain to a less selfish view of things, and he stood for a moment or two thinking. It was indeed a tantalising position, for, glittering and sparkling in the sun, there before them flowed the bright river, no drop of whose waters could be reached on account of the thronging enemy.

"I will see to it at once," he said, quietly; and as Miss Linton left him, Tom Long came up.

"We must have a well dug at once," he said. "Take charge here, Long, while I pick out a place."

Ensign Long assumed the command, but now without any of his old consequential airs. Adversity was taming him down, and to his surprise he found himself talking in a very different tone to his men, who yielded a readier obedience than of old.

Captain Smithers was not long in selecting a place for the well, and in a very few minutes a squad of men were at work, some digging, others bearing off the earth in baskets to pile up in front of weak places and add to their strength.

It was a hard call upon the men, that digging; but even while they worked the demand for water arose, and they slaved at their task, knowing the tortures that waited them should they not succeed.

Every man worked in turn, except those badly wounded, though even some of those carried away the baskets of earth.

Among others, Private Gray was ready to aid in this way, after vainly trying to handle a spade, a task rendered impossible by his wound. He was hard at work over his work, carrying basketful after basketful with one hand, when Captain Smithers came up, saw how he was striving, and stood looking on for a few moments.

"We shall have to put off your court-martial yet, Gray," he said grimly. "Give me that basket. Sit down awhile."

Gray was ready to resist, but his officer's words were law, and sitting down to rest, and wipe the streaming perspiration from his face, he watched his captain slave away at the toil with the others, for in those perilous times show and uniforms were forgotten.

It proved to be a harder task than had been anticipated. Captain Smithers had expected to find the subsoil of the island all soft alluvial earth, in which, from the neighbourhood of the river, there would be an abundance of water. It had never occurred to him that if the island had been of soft earth it would long before have been washed away. It was found to be rock at a short distance down, composed of a soft limestone, through which they had to chip their well.

A dozen times over alarms of attack—some real, some false—were given, when spade, pick, and basket had to be laid on one side, and rifles seized. The attack repelled, the fight for water was renewed; and to the intense delight of all, about ten feet down the pure life-giving element came gushing in a clear current from the rock.

Meanwhile Ali's eyes, which were more experienced in the ways of the enemy than those of his companions, read plainly enough that far from being damped by their ill-success they were preparing for a more general assault, and he confided his opinions to Tom Long.

"I can't see any difference," said Tom Long, after a careful inspection through his glass. "They looked just like that every time they came on, and—ah! there are some more of them, though."

"More," echoed Ali. "They are doubled in number. Look, too, at the way in which they are making bundles of reeds and canes."

"Well, let them," said Tom Long; "our rifle bullets will go through those fast enough. If I were Smithers, I'd give them a good searching fire now, and let them know that our rifles make fine practice at a thousand yards' distance. Those fellows are not six hundred."

"Better wait till every shot is more likely to tell," replied Ali. "The bullets would of course go through those bundles of cane; but do you not see what they mean?"

"No," said Tom Long, quietly, "unless they mean to burn us out."

"That is what they do mean," replied Ali. "And look! Quick! give the alarm! They are coming on at once!"

"Let them," said Tom Long, phlegmatically. "They won't alarm us. Nice people your fellow-countrymen, Ali!"

"Fellow-countrymen!" said the young Malay, scornfully. "My fellow-countrymen are gentlemen! These are the scourings of the country, with half the scoundrels from Borneo, Java, and Sumatra—men who have lived all their lives upon piracy and murder."

"Well, whatever they are," said Tom Long, coolly, "they are coming on, so I may as well let the lads know. All right, though; every one is on the alert, and I daresay we can give a good account of them before they get back. Are you sure that these are all a bad lot?"

"Sure?" cried Ali. "They are the scum of the east."

"Then we'll skim them a little more," said Tom Long. "Hi! sergeant, let me have a rifle and some cartridges; I think I should like to pot a few cut-throat pirates myself."

Sergeant Lund handed him the required rifle, Captain Smithers coming up at the moment, and as he swept the surroundings of the little fort with his glass his countenance changed a little, for grave as had been their position before, he felt now that unless help quickly came it was absolutely hopeless.



CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

HOW THE HUNTING-PARTY FARED.

There was a thick mist hanging over the forest when the bugle rang out the reveille, and, some eagerly, some thinking rest the better thing, all the hunting-party began to gather outside their tents, where the best apologies for tubs and baths were provided for the officers.

No sooner, however, did the Malays see this than they laughingly led the way to a little river, evidently a tributary of the Parang, and setting the example plunged into its deep, clear, cool waters, showing themselves to be adepts at swimming, and laughing to scorn, the idea of there being any crocodiles there.

The water was deliciously cool, and one and all the officers gladly availed themselves of the jungle bath, emerging fresh, and their nerves toned up ready for any work that was to fall to their lot that day.

By the time they returned to the camp an al fresco breakfast was ready, half English, half Malay. There were tea and coffee, potted meats and sardines, and side by side with them, delicious Malay curries, made with fresh cocoa-nut, sambals of the most piquant nature, and fresh fish and blachang—that favourite preparation of putrid shrimps. Fruits were in abundance—plantains of various kinds, mangosteens, lychees, and durians smelling strong enough to drive away a dozen Tom Longs, had they been there. In short, the sultan had given orders that his cooks should do their best; similar instructions had been given by Captain Horton and Major Sandars; and the result was a breakfast fit for a prince—who could put up with a picnic and a camp-stool, beneath an umbrageous tree.

"Whatever you gentlemen do," said Doctor Bolter, "pray restrain your appetites. You see," he said, taking his seat cross-legged, like the Malays, in front of a dish of blachang, and its neighbour a delicious chicken curry, "you will to-day be exposed a good deal to the heat of the sun; you will exert yourselves, no doubt; and therefore it is advisable that you should be very moderate in what you eat and drink. Thanks, yes, major, I will take a glass of claret before my coffee. What a thing it is that we can get no milk."

So saying, the doctor set to work, "feeding ferociously," so Captain Horton said, with a laugh, and partaking of everything that took his fancy, finishing off with a cigarette.

The sultan smiled his satisfaction as he sat at the head of the table, eating little himself, but giving instructions from time to time to his slaves that they should hand fruit and other delicacies to the guests that were near him.

The various officers followed the doctor's example, telling one another that they could not be far wrong if they imitated their medical guide. The only one who did not seem to enjoy his meal was Mr Linton, who felt worried, he hardly knew why, about their position.

Now that he was away from the residency, an undefined sense of trouble had come upon him, and he could not help feeling how helpless they must be if the Malays turned against them. Certainly they were all well-armed, and could make a brave fight, perhaps win their way back; but if they did, he felt sure that something would have gone wrong at the island.

The preparations for the fresh start chased away his forebodings, and the packing having been rapidly performed, soldier, sailor, and Malay were soon in motion, the long train winding its way through the dense jungle, with the rattan panniers and howdahs of the elephants brushing the lush verdure on either side.

The morning was deliciously cool, and as they went on and on through the forest shades, where at every turn something bright and beautiful met their gaze, the whole party were in the highest spirits; and the discipline only being kept tight, as to the order in which they marched, the men laughed and talked, sang and smoked, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

And certainly it would have moved the spirit of the most cankered denizen of a city to see the beauty of the parasites that clustered and hung from tree to tree. The orchids were of the most brilliant colours; and now and then they passed a lake or pool in the depths of the jungle which would be covered in places with the flower of the lotus, while in every sunny opening the great clusters of nepenthes—the pitcher plant— brightened the scene.

These latter delighted the Jacks amazingly, and not being allowed to break their ranks, they sent the Malays near them to pick anything that took their fancy. These "monkey cups," as they called them, were constantly picked ostensibly for the purpose of supplying the sailors with a drink, for each contained more or less water; but it was never drunk, for in each there were generally the remains of some unfortunate flies, who had gone down into the treacherous vegetable cavern, and being unable to clamber out had miserably perished.

During the heat of the day there was a halt once more, the Malays staring at the sailors and soldiers sitting about under the trees for a quiet smoke and watching the elephants, which, being relieved of their pads and howdahs, walked straight into a great pool near to which they were halted, and then cooled themselves by drawing their trunks full of water and squirting it all over their sides.

"I'm blest," said one of the Jacks, "if they ain't the rummest beggars I ever see. Just look at that one, Bill. Lor' if he ain't just like a bit o' annymated hingy rubber."

"Ah?" said his mate, "you might fit a pair o' blacksmith's bellows on to the muzzle o' that trunk of his, and then blow him out into a balloon."

"When are we going to begin to hunt tigers?" said another. "Oh, we ain't going to hunt them at all, only keep 'em from coming by us, and driving 'em up to where the orficers are."

"I say," said another sailor, "this here's all very well, but suppose some time or another, when these Malay chaps have got us out into the middle of these woods, they turn upon us, and whip out their krises— what then?"

"What then?" said a soldier, who heard him; "why then we should have to go through the bayonet exercise in real earnest; but it won't come to that."

Two more days were spent in the journey, and then, upon his guests beginning to manifest some impatience, the sultan announced that they were now on the borders of the tiger country; and that afternoon there were preparations for a beat when a couple of tigers were seen, but they managed to escape.

The sultan smilingly told his guests that at the end of another march the game would be more plentiful; and once more there was a steady tramp along one of the narrow jungle-paths, into a country wilder than ever— for they were away from the rivers now, and no traces of cultivation had been seen.

There was no dissatisfaction, though, for if the officers shot no tigers they found plenty of jungle-fowl and snipe, upon which they tried their powers with the gun, and made goodly bags of delicious little birds to add to the daily bill of fare.

Another day, and still another, in which the expedition penetrated farther and farther into the forest wild. The officers were delighted, and Doctor Bolter in raptures. He had obtained specimens of the atlas moth, a large flap-winged insect, as large across as a moderate dish; he had shot sun-birds, azure kingfishers, gapers, chatterers, parroquets; and his last achievement had been to kill a boa-constrictor twenty-four feet long.

It was no dangerous monster, but a great sluggish brute, that had hissed at him viciously and then tried to escape. But the doctor had for attendant a very plucky little Malay, appointed by the sultan, and this man was delighted with his task, following the doctor anywhere. Upon this occasion he had come upon the serpent lying coiled up, evidently sleeping off a repast of a heavy kind.

The boy shouted to the doctor, who was trying to stalk a lizard in an open place; and this roused the serpent, which began to uncoil, one fold gliding over the other, while its head was raised and its curious eyes sparkled in the sun.

The boy waited his opportunity, and then darting in cleverly avoided the reptile's teeth, and caught it by the tail, dragging the creature out nearly straight as he called to his master to fire.

The serpent was apparently puzzled by this proceeding, and threw itself round a tree, hissing furiously as it menaced its assailant. Then sending a wave along the free part of its body to the tail, the Malay was driven flying on to his back amidst the canes.

The retreat of the reptile was cut off, though, for this interruption gave the doctor time to come up with his little double fowling-piece, from which a quick shot sent the menacing, quivering head down upon the earth; and then going up, a second shot placed the writhing monster hors de combat.

There was no little mirth in the camp as, faint and perspiring profusely, the doctor and his Malay boy came in, slowly dragging the long quivering body of the serpent, which the former at once set to work to skin before it should become offensive. Then the skin was laid raw side upwards, and dressed over with arsenical soap, a dose of which the Malay boy nearly succeeded in swallowing, being attracted by its pleasant aromatic odour.

"Laugh away," said the doctor, "but I mean to have that skin set up and sent to the British Museum, presented by Doctor Bolter," he said importantly.

"Well," said Captain Horton, "for my part I would rather encounter a fierce Malay than one of these writhing creatures. Take care of yourself, doctor, or you'll be constricted."

"Yes," said Major Sandars, entering into the joke, "I'll give orders that every swollen serpent is to be bayonetted and opened if the doctor is missing."

"Laugh away," said the doctor; "I don't mind."

"That's right," said Captain Horton; "but for goodness' sake, man, wash your hands well before you come to dinner."

"All right," said the doctor; and that evening, after dinner, he took the Malay boy into his confidence.

"Look here," he said, "I want to shoot an Argus pheasant. There must be some about here."

"Argus pheasant?" said the Malay boy, staring, and then shaking his head.

"Yes, I heard one last night."

Still the boy shook his head. He had never heard of such a bird.

"Oh, yes, you know what I mean," said the doctor; "they keep in the shelter of the jungle, and are very rarely shot; but I must have one."

The boy shook his head.

"Don't I tell you I heard one last night, after we had camped down? It calls out Coo-ai."

"No, no! no, no!" cried the boy; "Coo-ow, Coo-ow."

"Yes, that's it," cried the doctor. "You know the bird."

"Yes, know the big spot bird; all eyes," said the boy. "Sees all over himself; like a peacock. Hunter no shoot him, see too much far."

"But I must shoot one," said the doctor.

"Yes, you shoot one," said the boy. "I take you to-night." The doctor rubbed his hands and was delighted; and after the dinner, when the officers and chiefs were sitting smoking and sipping their coffee by the light of the stars, he rose and took his gun, for the Malay boy was waiting.

"Off again, doctor?" cried the major.

"Yes," said the little man, importantly. "I am going, sir, to add to my collection a specimen of the celebrated Argus pheasant—Phasianus Giganteus."

"No, no, doctor; no Latin names after dinner," cried several voices.

"As you please, gentlemen," he said.

"The sultan says, shall he send a score of his men to protect you?" cried Captain Horton.

"For goodness' sake no!" cried the doctor in dismay. "My dear sir, this bird is only to be shot by approaching it most cautiously at night, or by laying patiently near its haunts."

"Laying what, doctor—eggs?" said a young officer.

"No, sir; a stick about the back of impertinent puppies," cried the doctor, angrily. "I said lying—lying in wait near the bird's haunts."

"Oh, I beg your pardon," said the young officer; and the doctor went off in dudgeon.

"I say, Thompson," said the major, "don't you be poorly, whatever you do, until the doctor has got over it, or he'll give you such a dose."

"I'll take care, sir," said the young man; and they went on chatting about other things.



CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

DOCTOR BOLTER'S BIRD.

Meanwhile the doctor followed his Malay boy—as he was called, though he was really a man—through a narrow path right away from the camp and into the jungle.

The doctor was ruffled exceedingly at his slip of grammar, and looked very much annoyed; but the thought of being able to secure a specimen of the much-prized Argus pheasant chased away the other trouble, and he walked on closely behind his guide.

"How far have we to go, my lad?" he said.

"Walk two hours," said the Malay, "then sit down and listen. No speak a word till Coo-ow come. Then make gun speak and kill him!"

"To be sure!" said the doctor, nodding his head; and then almost in silence he followed his guide, often feeling disposed to try and shoot one or other of the nocturnal birds that flitted silently by, or one of the great fruit bats that, longer in their spread of wings than rooks, flew in flocks on their way to devastate some orchard far away.

Quite two hours had elapsed, during which the Malay, apparently quite at home, led his scientific companion right away through the gloom of the wilderness.

At last he enjoined silence, saying that they were now approaching the haunts of the wondrous bird; and consequently the doctor crept on behind him without so much as crushing a twig.

They had reached an opening in the forest, by the side of what was evidently a mountain of considerable height, and the doctor smiled as he recalled the fact that the Argus pheasant was reputed to haunt such places; when to his intense delight there soddenly rang out from the distance on the silent night air a peculiar cry that resembled the name given to the bird—Coo-ow. For the moment it seemed to the doctor as if some Australian savage was uttering his well-known Coo-ay, or as if this was the Malays' form of the cry. But he knew well enough what it was, and following his guide with the greatest caution, they crept on towards the place from which the sound had seemed to come.

It was weird work in that wild solitude far on towards midnight, but the doctor was too keen a naturalist to think of anything but the specimen of which he was in search. He knew that the native hunters, out night after night, could not shoot more than one of these birds in a year, and it would be quite a triumph if he could add such a magnificent thing to his collection.

Coo-ow—rang out the strange cry, and it seemed quite near. Then again Coo-ow, and this time it appeared to be a long way off.