The Rajah of Dah

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  A HUNGRY CROC.

  The next moment Ned stood with clenched fists, about to fly at theTumongong's son, as he had mentally dubbed him, but his fistsunclenched, and he began to comprehend that he must have been in somedanger from which he had been driven and dragged by the excited lad, whonow snatched off the little flat military-looking cap he wore, andshowed a crop of curly dark hair--not black, coarse, and straight like aMalay's--and as he wiped his streaming forehead with the silken sleeveof his baju, he cried fiercely: "What a jolly fool you must be to go andstand there."

  "Eh? I? Was I? Would the monkey have bitten me?"

  "Yes, if you had pulled his tail, and he wouldn't have let you. Hebitten you? No."

  "Then," said Ned, flushing a little, and feeling indignant at the youngsemi-savage's dictatorial speech, "why was I a jolly fool to go andstand there, pray?"

  "Hark at him!" said the lad, looking round as if he were addressing anaudience; "he says, Why was he a jolly fool? Oh, what a green one youare!"

  "Look here, sir," said Ned, shortly; "have the goodness to be a littlemore respectful in your speech. I am not accustomed to be addressed inthat manner."

  "Oh certainly, my lord," said the lad. "Salaam maharajah, salaam." Andraising his hands above his head, he bowed down almost to the ground."I didn't know you were such a grandee."

  "Never mind what I am, sir, and have the goodness to keep your place."

  "Yes, my lord. Salaam maha--"

  "Stop!" cried Ned, angrily. "I don't want you to do that tomfoolery tome."

  The lad made a grimace, and meekly crossed his hands upon his breast.

  "Now, sir, have the goodness to tell me why I was a jolly fool, and sogreen, as you call it. Pity people can't teach you foreigners somethingbetter than slang. Now then--answer."

  "Well, to go and stand under that tree with a croc stalking you."

  "Croc stalking you? What do you mean?"

  "Don't you know the river's full of crocodiles?"

  "I know there are some there."

  "Some!" cried the lad. "Why, it's as full as a pond is ofsticklebacks."

  Ned stared at these words, coming out of eastern lips.

  "Why, when they krissed a fellow this morning, and tumbled him into theriver, Dilloo Dee says one of them snatched the body under directly. Hetold me just now. Didn't you see that one coming at you?"

  "I saw a big fish under the lotus-leaves."

  "Big fisherman you mean. Poof!" cried the boy, bursting into a roar oflaughter, "it was a great croc, and I was just in time to knock you outof the way. I thought he would have got you, he made such a rush."

  "Did--did you see him?" said Ned, turning a little white.

  "Only got a glimpse of his wet scales; but I knew he was there stalkingyou, by that monkey scolding him. Oh my! how the little beggars do hatea croc."

  "Then--then, you saved my life, and I didn't know it," said Ned.

  "Eh? Well, I s'pose I did, for if he had pulled you down, I don'tsuppose we should ever have seen you again."

  "Ugh!" shuddered Ned. "How horrid. What a dreadful country this is."

  "Get out! I like it."

  "But tell me: would that thing have dragged me in?"

  "To be sure he would. Why, it's only two days since he pulled a girlinto the water. She'd only gone down to wash a sarong."

  "Is it a big one?" asked Ned, after gazing in a horrified way at hiscompanion.

  "Oh yes! a whacker--fifty or sixty feet long."

  "Nonsense!"

  "Well then, fifteen or twenty. I know it's a big one. One of our men--Dilloo, I think it was--saw him one day ashore. Look here, old chap,tell you what. We'll get some of the fellows to lend us a rope with aloose end, and a hook, and we'll set a night-line for the beggar, andcatch him. What do you say?"

  "I should like to, if we stay here."

  "Oh, you'll stay here," said the lad, laughing. "Like fishing?"

  "Passionately."

  "So do I. Caught two dozen yesterday after I met you. I say, you andyour uncle are bird and butterfly cocks, aren't you?"

  "My uncle is a naturalist, and I help him," said Ned, rather stiffly,for this easy-going address from a young Malay, who had evidently passedall his life among English people, annoyed him. "But I say, what aknowledge you have of English."

  "Oh yes, I know some English," said the lad, laughing.

  "And Malay?"

  "Oh, pretty tidy. I don't jabber, but I can make the beggars understandme right enough. What's your name? Murray, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "But the other? Tom--Dick--Harry?"

  "Edward."

  "Oh, where are you going to, Edward Gray? What is it? That's wrong.What does old Tennyson say? Hullo! what's the matter?"

  "I--that is--" stammered Ned--"some mistake. You speak English sowell."

  "Of course I do."

  "But what is your name?"

  "Frank Braine."

  "Then you are not the Tumongong's son?"

  "Tumon grandmother's--ha! ha! What a game! Oh, I see now! I forgotthat I was in nigger togs. You took me for one of them."

  "Of course I did."

  "Well, it's a rum one. Won't father laugh! That's why you were sococky at first?"

  "Yes, I didn't know you were Mr Braine's son. You are, aren't you?"

  "Course I am. Been out here two years now. I was at Marlborough--school you know--and I'd got the whiffles or something so bad, thedoctor said I should die if I wasn't sent to a warm climate. They senta letter to the dad, and it was nine months getting to him. Ma says hewas in a taking till he'd got a despatch sent down to Singapore, to bedillygraphed home to England for me to come here directly. He couldn'tfetch me, you know. The ould one, as Tim calls him, wouldn't let himgo. You know him?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, they sent me out, and after they'd carried me on board, thecaptain of the steamer told one of the passengers that it was a shame tohave sent me, for I should die before I was half-way out. It made me sowild, that I squeaked out that he didn't know what he was talking about,and he'd better mind his own business. And he didn't either, for Ibegan to get better directly, and the old skipper shook hands with me,and was as pleased as could be, one day just before we got to Singapore;for I had climbed up into the foretop and laughed at him, I'd got somuch stronger. Then I had to go up to Malacca, and there old Bang-gongmet me."

  "Who?"

  "Tumongong, and brought me up here, and now I'm as strong as you are."

  "Yes, you look wonderfully brown and well."

  "And you took me for a nigger! What a game!"

  "Of course it was very stupid of me."

  "Oh, I don't know. But, I say, I am glad you've come. You won't beable to go away again, but that don't matter. It's a jolly place, andyou and I and old Tim will go shooting and fishing, and--I say--I shallcome with you and your uncle collecting specimens."

  "I hope so," said Ned, who began to like his new acquaintance. "Butdon't you feel as if you are a prisoner here?"

  "No; not a bit. I go where I like. Old Jamjah knows I shan't run awayfrom my people."

  "Jamjar?"

  "That's only my fun. I call him the Rajah of Jamjah sometimes, becausehe's such a beggar to eat sweets. He asks me sometimes to go and seehim, and then we have a jam feed. I'm pretty tidy that way, but hebeats me hollow. Perhaps he'll ask you some day, and if he takes to youand likes you, he gives you all sorts of things, for he's tremendouslyrich, and always getting more. He wants to find gold and emeralds andrubies if he can, to make him richer, but none of his people have thegumption to look in the right place."

  "That's why he wants my uncle to go on expeditions then."

  "To be sure it is; and if he finds a mine or two for the old boy, he'llmake Mr Murray a rich man."

  Ned looked at him thoughtfully, while the boy chattered on.

  "He gave me these silk things I've go
t on, and lots more. It pleaseshim to wear 'em. Make some of my old form chaps laugh if they saw me, Iknow; but they're very comfortable when you're used to them, and itssafer to wear 'em when you go amongst strangers, too. He gave me thiskris," continued the lad, uncovering the hilt, which was wrapped in thewaist-folds of his showy plaid sarong. "That's the way to wear it.That means peace if its covered up. If you see a fellow with his krisin his waist uncovered, that means war, so cock your pistol and lookout."

  As he spoke he drew out the weapon from his waistband and handed it toNed.

  "That handle's ivory, and they do all that metal-work fine."

  "Why, all that working and ornament is gold."

  "To be sure it is. Pull it out: there's more gold on the blade."

  Ned took hold of the handle and drew the little weapon from itslight-coloured wood sheath to find that it was very broad just at thehilt, and rapidly curved down to a narrow, wavy or flame shaped blade,roughly sharp on both edges, and running down to a very fine point. Itwas not polished and clear like European steel, but dull, rough, anddead, full of a curious-looking grain, as if two or three differentkinds of metal had been welded together, while up near the hilt therewas a beautiful arabesque pattern in gold.

  "Ugh!" said Ned, returning it to its sheath; "it's a nasty-lookingthing. Is it poisoned?"

  "Not it. A thing like that doesn't want any poison upon it."

  "But krises are poisoned."

  "I never saw one that was, and father says he never did. He has askedseveral of the big men here about them, and they always laugh and say itis nonsense; that the only poison in them is given by a good strong arm.Everybody wears a kris here," he continued, as he returned the weaponto his waistband. "Perhaps old Jamjah will give you one."

  "I don't want one," said Ned. Then, suddenly, "It seems a stupid sortof handle, doesn't it?"

  "Yes; more like a pistol, but they like it, and they know how to use ittoo. I say, I hope the old chap will ask you too, next time he asks me.It's capital fun, for you can hear all his wives whispering togetherbehind the mat curtains, and they get peeping at you while you're havingall the good things, and are longing to join in, but they mustn't beseen by a giaour, or the son of a giaour, as they call me. I say, ifyou like I'll talk to the old fellow about you, and then he's sure toask you."

  "No, don't please," replied Ned. "I nearly burst out laughing when Isaw him yesterday."

  "I say, it's precious lucky for you that you didn't. He'd never haveforgiven you. Had he got on his grand uniform? Yes, he would have, toshow himself off, and he does look comic in it too. You see it was madefor him at a guess in London; and, my! it is rum to see him straddlingabout in it sometimes. He's just like a peacock, and as proud of hisfeathers. But if you had laughed it would have been horrible. So mindwhat you are about, for he's sure to ask you some day, and he'll callyou `goo-ood boy' if you eat enough. I taught the old cock parrot tosay that. But, I say, aren't you getting hungry?"

  "Yes," said Ned, quickly, for that seemed to account for a faint feelingfrom which he suffered.

  "So am I. Daresay the old croc is," said the lad, grinning.

  "Oh!" cried Ned, offering his hand, "I am grateful to you for that."

  "Stuff! That's all right."

  "I shall never be able to repay you."

  "How do you know? Some day you'll catch an elephant putting me in histrunk, or one of our prize striped torn tigers carrying me off, like acat and a mouse. Then it will be your turn. Come on and have breakfastwith us."

  "No, I can't leave my uncle."

  "Then I'll come and have breakfast with you. Old Jamjah will send youyour rations, and they will be good till you offend him. Then you'dbetter look out for squalls."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Poison. But old Barnes will put you up to some dodges to keep thatoff, I daresay. Yes, I am hungry. Come on."