"At length, even Verner, who seemed made of iron, had to call a halt. He spoke to Dato Burung in low tones, and a camp was set up. My father, now stumbling with fatigue and insect-bitten to the limit, was gently passed along the line of marchers, until placed in the circle formed around the tiny fire they had lit. At this point, he related, he would not have cared much if they had told him that he was the main course in the evening meal.
"He roused himself, though, when he saw Verner seated next to him on the same rotting log. The fellow was almost as cool-looking as he had been on the prau after his recovery and, to my father's amazement, was in the act of fitting a clean paper collar to his very tattered shirt. God knows where he got it.
"At my father's gaze, something must have penetrated this strange person's subconscious mind. He finished dealing with his collar and without any affectation laid his hand on my father's knee.
"I fear that you are still in doubt, My dear chap,' he said in vibrant tones. 'We are now far enough from the hue and cry so that one may elaborate without any fear of indiscretion. Pray tell me how I can serve you. Is there any matter on your mind?' The tones were as soft and caressing as those of a woman, and the man's whole attitude so charged with sympathy that my father almost wept. Exhausted and bemused as he was by what had transpired around him in the last twenty-four hours, he nevertheless retained enough energy to ask why this extraordinary jaunt through a trackless wilderness was necessary?
" 'The matter is quite plain,' returned his singular congener. 'We are going to call upon a local ruler who is apparently dead, a native people who, though certainly native, are not people, and a ship due to be charged with more misery than any vessel that ever floated on this planet's seas. Finally we shall, I trust, destroy the scientific works of one Van Ouisthoven, who has been seemingly dead for fifteen years.'
"This flood of lunacy was too much for my father, who had been both physically and mentally taxed almost beyond endurance. He fell asleep, slumped over his own rotting log, even as he heard the final words of Verner's explanation. Yet the words stayed in his memory, so much so that even at his life's end, he could still recite them to me.
"It was not, however, to be a sleepless night. The noises of the great tropical rain forest were no doubt designed to make newcomers uncomfortable, but my father was an old stager at this sort of thing. Yet the cries of the civet cats, the hooting of the fish owls, the usual noises of insect and tree frog, none of these would have been sufficient to wake Dad. Suddenly, as he recollected, about 1 a.m., Verner and old Burung shook him awake. 'Listen,' hissed Verner, who actually grasped him by the collar.
"At first, my father heard nothing. There were the normal tropic sounds, the night wind in the great trees, the innumerable insects, locusts and such, the faraway cry of a sleepy gibbon, and that was all. But Verner's grip remained tight on his collar, and so he listened. He could smell the reek of old Burung on the other side, full of garlic and menace, but the silence and the attention of the two finally got to him as well.
"Then he heard it. Over all the normal night noises, he heard the chatter of a squirrel. No one can mistake that nasty, scolding sound, and it came first from one side of the camp and then the other. The sound is the same in the Temperate Zone as it is in the tropics. But and mind you, my father was an old tropic hand and a noted shikari squirrels are not animals of the night. No scientist to this day has found anything but the flying squirrels active at night. And they are silent, or almost so. Also, this was deeper in pitch.
"Mixed with the chattering was a gruff, snarling bark, though that seemed to come only at intervals. Anything else he might have thought was shaken out of him by Verner. 'That is the enemy, Captain. They have already taken one sentry. Do you now feel my precautions to be unnecessary?'
"If this were not enough, the next thing was a sort of strangled choking noise from the other side of camp. Verner darted off like a flash, and came back almost as quickly. 'Another gone,' he said. 'We must move on in the morning, or they will pick us off like so many flies on a side of beef.' My father roused himself long enough to see that two more of the crew were detailed to stand sentry go, and then he relapsed once more into exhausted slumber. But, as he lay down, he was very conscious that something out in the great black forest was a hideous danger, clear and present. He fell asleep with dread on his soul.
"My father remembered nothing until he was roughly shaken in the first light of morning. He felt, and was, filthy, as well as being still tired, confused and angry at the way Verner had somehow pirated the loyalty of his men. Then he remembered the incidents of the night. He looked over and saw the very man himself, bent over a log which he was using as a table, in deep converse with my father's, or Rajah Brooke's, own captain, Burung. Ignoring the native crewman who was trying to give him sustenance in the form of cold rice, my father lurched over to the duo, who were his captors as he then felt.
"Verner looked up coldly at first, then seeing who had caused the interruption, smiled. It was the same glacial smile, to be sure, a mere rictus, but the strange man actually rose from his seat, and, as if by osmosis, so did Dato Burung.
" 'Just the man we wanted,' said Verner. 'My dear chap, do come and look at this map. It purports to be the mouth of the river Lubuk Rajah. I fear you will be disappointed to learn that it was once considered by some to be the Biblical Ophir. The whole idea is, of course, beyond any reasoned belief. I, myself, when in the Mekran, found that ... Still, a most interesting and primitive area, geologically speaking: There is a young Dutch physician in these islands, Dubois, I believe, who is laying the ground for some splendid work on human origins. He is unknown to you? Strange how the body controls the mind, in terms of limitation, that is.'
"My father, who was, on his own admission to me given many years later on, only half awake, ignored this rambling and stared out on the rude table before him. There was indeed a river mouth and a small harbor. As an officer of the British Army, he was familiar with planes and gradients of the landscape, but here were other things on this map. There were lines, in various colors, extending around a central area. This central part appeared to be a settlement of some sort. In short, it looked like any typical village on any Southeast Asian coast, as observed and recorded by a European cartographer. Except for the odd lines, that is.
"He next heard his mentor, for so Verner had come to seem, in the same tone, but in excellent Malay, state the following: 'Those are their lines. They have an inner and an outer defensive circuit. We shall have to somehow go between them. Do you have any suggestions?'
" 'Look here, Verner,' said my father. 'What the Hell are you planning to do?' Nothing but fatigue, he told me, would have made him use language of this degree of coarseness.
" 'I had thought it would have been apparent to any child with even a board school education,' said Verner, turning back to stare at him with those strange eyes. 'I propose to destroy this entire village, root and branch, females, young, the whole as our American cousins put it shebang. All at once. And I fear that I am compelled to ask for your direct assistance in the matter.'
"My father stared at him. He was, after all, a British officer, charged with spreading our native virtues, Pax Britannica and all that it implied in those days. He was told now that he was to assist in totally obliterating some native village in a foreign colonial possession! It was fantastic! Do please remember this was long before genocide became a word in the English language.
"Dato Burung said something to Verner in Malay, but so fast and low that my father totally failed to grasp it.
" 'Quite so,' said Verner, 'but we have none and should we seek a prisoner, we stand the risk of further alerting all the others. No, I think the Tuan, captain, will have to sleep. Then, perhaps he and I may make the trail together, and once and for all see what Van Ouisthoven's work has come to. Strange that this whole matter should have grown from a simple assessment of mining machinery.' This last sentence was in English.
"My father
was at this point, utterly out of his wits, strength, and did indeed fall silent. His next memories as he listened were those of hearing Verner say, in his clipped tones, and musingly in English, 'There are strange rhythms in world events, yet none stranger than that of unpaid businessmen!'
"They were now on the march in the usual blazing dawn. They had wound, in the previous day's journey, much closer to the coast than he had thought. Only a few mangroves and giant Java plums kept them from the glare of light, which now burst over the hills to the east. The day brought with it the inevitable cloud of insect horrors to replace the night's mosquitoes. His face puffed up and his eyes swollen, my father faced Verner the man had the same catlike neatness, despite their march at a trail fork and demanded to know who was in charge.
"He looked at my father coolly enough. His first words cut off anything my father was impelled to say, quite short.
" 'Do you know, Captain, anything about general assurance companies? No? I rather thought not. Then you will have heard nothing of Messrs. Morrison, Morrison and Dodd. You will be pleased to know that a highly respectable firm, of Mincing Lane, no less, is the cause of your present discomfort.' On receiving nothing but the blankest of looks from Dad, he continued in the same light, jocular vein, obviously amused to make some mystery of his remarks, as though, Dad said, they were not mysterious enough already.
" 'All I know, Sir,' interrupted my father, 'is that you have mishandled me in the most outrageous fashion, suborned and subverted my officers and men, the employees of His Highness, the Rajah of Sarawak, and finally taken us away on some dubious journey for an unnamed purpose. I insist, sir, that you tell me what—' At this point my father fell silent, for as his voice rose, a wave of Verner's hand had caused a cloth to be thrown over his mouth by one of the burliest of his own crewmen, and despite his struggles, he was flung back upon a nearby tree trunk in the most compelling way. During all this, Verner continued to regard him in the most placid manner. When he had waited, as my father was compelled to admit, for his struggles to cease, he again waved his hand and the swaddling was removed. Meanwhile, Dad had seen old Umpa, his faithful servant, sworn to guard him with his life, quietly picking his teeth across the way!
" 'Captain,' said Verner, leaning forward and staring into my father's eyes, 'behave yourself!'
"It was the rebuke one gives a child, and, my father was free to state, entirely successful. He sat quietly; the gag was withdrawn, and he stood in silence while listening to his interlocutor.
" 'In a short time, Captain,' said the cold voice, 'we are going to carry out a murderous assault, by stealth, upon what appears to be a peaceful village. I cannot, even at this date, take you entirely into my confidence. However, I give you a few morsels of thought to mull over. Your men, starting with the captain, are the picked officers of the Rajah Muda of Sarawak. Think, man! Would they be likely to go over to a complete stranger such as myself, a castaway of no known antecedents, without the most compelling of reasons? Your own servant, that Moro savage, is with us. Do you dare exclude yourself?' "
There was a silence in the club library at this, and Ffellowes, who had lit a cigar, pulled on it gently before resuming. We were all so caught up that he could have said almost anything, but, even so, this was a point most of us had missed. Why indeed had the faithful crew of his Rajah's vessel turned coat so fast over to this wandering stranger?
" 'The answer is simple, as are indeed most answers,' resumed Verner to my father. 'They believe most strongly in what I am doing. Why do you not ask them?'
" 'Dato Burung,' said Dad to the old Bajau skipper. 'Why do you obey the strange Tuan? Why do you guard me as a prisoner?' He looked into the old man's jet eyes for the first time, seeing him not as a part of the ship, but as a man.
" 'Tuan,' the old man spoke most respectfully. 'We have heard in the islands for many moons, and some few suns, that there will come a time when we will all rule ourselves. But, Tuan, not through those who are Not-men. We go now, under this strange Tuan's orders, to kill the Not-men. Only men should rule men. The Orang Blanda, even the great ones, are silly, but you are men, of whatever strange, mad country. But never Not-men, this is against the Law of the Prophet. These are Efreets, something not to be born. They must be killed.' The old pirate sighed and caressed his long drooping mustaches. 'It is quite simple, really.'
"This last piece of lunacy, as Dad told me, should have convinced any sane man that he had no chance. Instead, maddeningly, it swung him completely over to the other side. You see, he knew old Burung, and trusted him; had now for over a year served with him and his crew. Then there was Umpa, his Moro servant. He had been saved from execution by Dad's personal intervention. And he was a Hadji, had made the Mecca pilgrimage. He now stared at my father and nodded his head. If these men believed ...
"My father's response rather startled Verner in fact, if anything could startle a man as much in control of himself as that cold fish.
" 'I'm your man,' Dad said simply, stretching out his hand. 'What do we do next?'
"Verner stared at him for a moment, then a lean hand clasped his. 'Thank you, Captain,' he said, and nothing more. 'Now I badly need your help. The innermost grounds of this place are unknown to me. I escaped, more by luck than anything else, from what seems to be the outer perimeter. As you must have guessed, we are not too far from the place off which I was so fortunate as to have you encounter me. There is a ship in the harbor there which must at any hazard be prevented from leaving. She must in fact be destroyed. She is the Matilda Briggs, of American registry, out of Tampa in the state of Florida, I think. Her charter is under grave suspicion. A bark of some 700 tons. No ship in the world has ever carried such a cargo of future misery in the history of the human race. I repeat, she must be destroyed, at all costs.'
" 'Of what does this cargo consist?' my father asked.
" 'Females and infants in arms, in all probability,' was the cool answer. The man's face was grave, however, and it was evident that he was not in jest. My father could say no more. He was now committed, on the sole basis of common trust.
" 'Now,' continued Verner, in his usual icy manner, but speaking Malay. 'Let us plan our next move.' The six remaining crewmen moved in closer. They obviously knew something portended. The other two had been made guards, to watch both trails north and south.
" 'See here,' cried Verner, pointing to the map. 'This is the weak point, here at this juncture of slopes. It is very plain that here is where we must strike.' Then he said a curious thing, almost an aside, a remark baffling to my father. 'May God defend the right. If it is the right.' The comment was so unlike Verner's usual detached attitude that it stuck in Dad's memory.
" 'We shall be well off enough if the Dolfjin does not play us false,' continued the master of the expedition. He seemed to be talking to himself as much as anyone else. 'She's only 250 tons, but she carries two 12 pounders. And yet my last message may not have got through.'
"With no more remarks, Verner proceeded to dispose of the whole party. Two men, the crewmen with the best edged weapons, were sent on ahead to act as an advanced guard. The two sentries were called in and made a rear party. The remaining four, including old Burung, plus my father and Verner, made up the central column. Dad loosened his revolvers in their holsters. He had been in some rough work more than once; yet he felt somehow that this business would take rank with the best of them. Verner seemed to carry no weapon at all, beyond a straight stick of some heavy wood he had cut.
"They were now on an obvious trail. It was early morning and the light was fair, despite the oppressive heat, even under the dark overhang of the giant trees. Moreover, the party was now heading inland, a bit away from the sea, in a northeasterly direction. Suddenly, as if by some species of legerdemain, they were confronted with an open area. The jungle simply stopped, and before them lay, in the morning light, a European village. Allowing for the tropics, there were fenced, brush-bordered fields, low peak-roof houses, chimneys curling with smoke, an
d in the middle distance a larger structure, hard to see through the morning mist, but also peak-roofed, which might have served as the headquarters of the squire, or what have you, with no trouble. Anything less likely on the Sumatran coast than this rustic view would be hard to imagine. It was as if a segment of Bavaria, or perhaps Switzerland, had been removed bodily to the tropics. To make the scene complete, off to the left was a tiny harbor, empty save for a three-masted bark at anchor. She was surrounded by boats.
" 'They have learned well,' said Verner in cryptic tones. 'Come on, you men. We should have had some opposition by now. They must be leaving and we can afford no wait. There lies the Matilda Briggs.'
"Even as he spoke, they were surrounded. My father was a man of few words at the best of times, and in this description (I may say," said Ffellowes at this point, "I was a child of my father's old age) he always became somewhat incoherent.
"There were many of them, all larger than man-size. Their pointed faces were drawn back from the great yellow chisel teeth, which snapped and chattered as they came on. They barked, too, like giant dogs. They had been hiding in the growth at the edge of the fields, and now they rushed in upon the small party, their clawed hands, yes, hands, clutching great crooked knives and other edged tools. The early morning air was still, no wind or even a shadow of a breath; and as my father put it, their stink, an acrid bitter reek, came on before them. It was inconceivable, but it was happening. Even the stumpy, naked tails that flailed the air behind them as they scuttered forward on their hind legs seemed to add no more unbelievability to the whole scene. It was monstrous, incredible, impossible and it was happening!
The Curious Quests of Brigadier Ffellowes Page 12