Sandokan: The Two Tigers (The Sandokan Series Book 4)

by Emilio Salgari

  They soon came to a halt before a brick building whose walls had been heavily battered by cannonballs and grenades. At one time, it must have been an elegant bungalow, the property of some rich Englishman from Delhi.

  “This is the general’s headquarters,” said Bedar.

  He uttered the password to the two sentries guarding the door, then led Sandokan and his friends into a large room, where they found the subedar and several tall Bundelcundi hillmen standing by the door, armed to the teeth.

  “Leave your swords and pistols here,” he said, turning toward Sandokan and the others.

  The two pirates, Tremal-Naik and six Malays quickly disarmed.

  “Follow me,” continued the subedar pointing to a double set of doors. “The general is waiting for you in there.”

  They were led into a second large room furnished with a few pieces of furniture; several of the bamboo chairs were stained with blood, the marks, perhaps, of a recent battle.

  Four Sikh hillmen with Herculean builds stood guard at the entrance, their right hands resting on the hilts of their scimitars.

  Seated at a table was an old man with a white beard, a large hooked nose and eyes as dark as coal. He was dressed like the Muslims of Northern India, the sleeves of his green silk jacket adorned with large gold braids.

  As Sandokan and the others entered, he raised his head, his eyes narrowing as he took in the newcomers and appraised them one by one.

  “You wish to enter Delhi?” he asked at last.

  “Yes,” replied Tremal-Naik.

  “To fight and die for Indian freedom?”

  “Against our British oppressors.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Bengal.”

  “How did you manage to make your way through enemy lines?” asked the old general.

  “Under cover of darkness. We hid in an old hut until we spotted the subedar.”

  The old man fell silent again as he fixed his eyes upon Sandokan and the Malays.

  “You’re Bengali?” he asked, turning to address the hunter.

  “Yes,” replied Tremal-Naik without hesitation.

  “But the others, they’re not Indian.”

  “That’s true, General. This man,” he said, pointing to Sandokan, “is a Malay prince, a sworn enemy of the British, whom he has fought and defeated in numerous bloody battles on the shores of Borneo. The others are his warriors.”

  “I see. What brings him to India?”

  “He came to Calcutta to visit me. When he learned of the insurgency, he offered to aid us in our cause.”

  “Is that true?” asked Abu Hassam, turning towards the Tiger of Malaysia.

  “Every word,” replied the pirate. “I battled the British for years and was known throughout Malaysia as their greatest enemy. Five years ago I overthrew James Brooke, the Rajah of Sarawak, and put another on his throne.”

  “James Brooke!” exclaimed the general, placing a hand on his forehead as if trying to recall some ancient memory. “I met him in my youth when he was still a lieutenant. The White Rajah was a tough soldier even then. He must have been a formidable enemy!”

  He paused for a moment.

  “What about him?” he asked suddenly, pointing to Yanez. “He looks European.”

  “He’s a friend of the prince’s.”

  “And does he despise the British?”

  “Yes.”

  “Only the British?” he asked, suddenly changing tone.

  “What do you mean, General?” Tremal-Naik replied, a note of unease in his voice.

  Ignoring the question, the old man stood up and said, “You may leave for Delhi in two or three hours. The subedar and an escort will accompany you. We wouldn’t want you to be mistaken for enemies and shot. Your weapons will be given back to you once you’re inside the city walls.”

  “Where will they take us?”

  “To the enlistment office,” replied the general. “Excuse me now, I have much work to do.”

  He raised a hand towards the door. Tremal-Naik and his friends bid the general goodnight and left. The subedar and the escort were waiting for them outside.

  “Come with me, gentlemen,” said the soldier.

  As Bedar and Tremal-Naik said their goodbyes, the sepoy leaned in and whispered, “Something’s wrong here. Keep your guard up.”

  The small squadron had barely left when two men with enormous turbans, the same pair who had accompanied the subedar into the hut, entered the general’s office.

  “Was that them?” asked the old man.

  “Yes, we recognized them immediately,” replied one of the two. “They desecrated Kali’s most sacred temple, flooded our caverns and murdered our brethren. They’re allied with the British.”

  “That’s a grave accusation, my friends,” said the old man.

  “They’ve come to Delhi for one reason only, to murder our leader.”

  “So what do you advise me to do?”

  “Treat them as spies. Otherwise we’ll order the Thugs to leave Delhi tomorrow.”

  The old man fell silent as he took in those words.

  “Men are precious,” he said at last. “We don’t have enough to defend the city as it is. Very well, they’ll be treated as spies. You have my word.”

  Chapter 30

  Spies

  INSTEAD OF RETURNING to the hut where Sandokan and his companions had left their horses, the small squadron set off down a road lined with crumbling bungalows.

  Put on his guard by Bedar’s warning, Tremal-Naik, fearing a trap, tried to ask the subedar a few questions, but the officer merely grunted and gestured for the squadron to keep moving.

  “Things don’t seem to be going very smoothly,” said Yanez. “Any idea why, Tremal-Naik?”

  “None,” replied the Bengali. “They’re stalling, that much is certain, but it’s anyone’s guess why they don’t want to let us enter the city.”

  “Maybe they think we’re British spies?” asked Sandokan.

  “If so, we’re in grave danger. They shoot spies.”

  “What could possibly make them think that?” asked Yanez.

  “Someone could have spotted us talking to Lieutenant de Lussac.”

  “If that’s the case,” said the Bengali. “I don’t know how we could prove our innocence.”

  “I wish we still had our carbines!” said Sandokan.

  “Even if we did, I doubt they’d make much of a difference. There must be a thousand rebels nearby, most of them former soldiers.”

  “You’re right, Tremal-Naik,” said Yanez. “Bah! Perhaps all will end well.”

  “Where have they taken us?” asked Sandokan.

  The squadron had come to a halt before the ruins of an old tower. The top story had fallen in and the ground was strewn with rubble.

  “This is the enlistment office?” asked Yanez.

  The subedar exchanged a few words with the two guards standing before the door, then turned to Tremal-Naik and his companions and said:

  “You’ll wait here until you’re issued letters of transit. You won’t be able to get into Delhi without them.”

  “When can we leave?” asked Sandokan.

  “In a few hours,” replied the officer. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

  He lit a torch he had brought with him, opened a heavy bronze door and went up a narrow stairway. The steps were covered in black mud.

  “This is where they’ll write those letters?” asked Tremal-Naik.

  “Yes, on the second floor,” replied the subedar.

  “Looks more like a prison than an office.”

  “This was the best building available. Step inside, gentlemen, I must get back immediately.”

  When they arrived on the second floor he opened another bronze door and let Sandokan, Tremal-Naik, Yanez and the Malays enter the room before him. Once they were inside he quickly pulled the door shut, plunging the room into darkness.

  “Wretch! He’s betrayed us!” howled Sandokan.

 
Several minutes passed in silence. Even Yanez was too surprised to speak.

  “It looks like we’re locked in,” he said at last, his voice as calm as ever. “Who would have guessed? I hadn’t expected it; we haven’t done anything to make the rebels suspicious. What do you make of all this, Tremal-Naik?”

  “We’ve been duped,” replied the Bengali. “Outsmarted by that scoundrel of a general. The old man gave us quite the performance.”

  “Do you think Suyodhana’s involved in this somehow?” Sandokan asked suddenly.

  “Impossible! He’s probably in the city somewhere. How could he have seen us?”

  “How else would you explain this?” replied Sandokan.

  “We may have been spotted by a Thug and denounced as spies,” said Yanez.

  “That could be,” replied Tremal-Naik.

  “Yes, it makes sense. I’d be surprised if the stranglers weren’t behind this,” added Sandokan.

  “Let’s get a look at where we are,” said Yanez. “The shape these buildings are in, we may be able to escape.”

  “Do you have a flint and some tinder?” asked Sandokan.

  “And a bit of rope we can use as a torch,” replied the Portuguese. “It should last about ten minutes. Our men should have some more in their pockets.”

  “Let’s get some light in here then,” said Sandokan.

  Yanez struck the flint; sparks lit the tinder and set fire to the rope. Sandokan took it from him and raised it in the air.

  They were in a vast unfurnished room with four large windows covered by thick iron bars.

  “It’s a prison all right,” he said, after inspecting his surroundings.

  “An excellent choice,” replied Yanez. “Iron bars in the windows and these walls must be at least a metre thick. We won’t be getting out of here anytime soon. I’d wager they’re discussing our fate as we speak, perhaps even making plans to shoot us at dawn. I can’t say I relish the prospect of a firing squad.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” said Sandokan. “They’re bound to send word.”

  “Don’t forget Bedar,” said Tremal-Naik. “He won’t abandon us.”

  “That’s true,” replied Yanez, “He said he’d help us.”

  “He won’t be able to do much,” said Sandokan. “He has no authority.”

  “But there may be someone he can turn to for help,” replied Tremal-Naik. “He’s clever and resourceful; we shouldn’t abandon hope just yet.”

  “Well, since there’s nothing we can do, I suggest we try to get some rest,” said Yanez, letting the last bit of burning rope fall to the ground. “I doubt we’ll have any more visitors tonight.”

  The nine men stretched out on the floor and attempted to fall asleep. Though they may have been troubled by their predicament, they were so tired that it was not long before they were all snoring loudly. When they awoke the next day, sunlight was streaming through the thick iron bars in the window.

  “Time to get up,” said Sandokan, the first to awaken.

  “Nothing new?” asked Yanez with a yawn.

  “No change as of yet,” replied the Tiger of Malaysia. “The room is as empty as it was last night. Theses rebels have no manners, they’re treating us like untouchables. Bah, let’s see where they put us.”

  He went to one of the windows and looked out onto a yard filled with rubble enclosed by a crumbling wall. An enormous tamarind tree stood in the centre, its dark shadow concealing part of the debris that was strewn upon the ground.

  A large grove of palm trees was visible just beyond the far end of the wall. He was about to move away, when an odd movement in the tamarind tree suddenly caught his attention. A large branch had started shaking wildly.

  Monkeys? he thought.

  He quickly dismissed the idea and on second look spotted something red and white moving among the thick foliage.

  “There’s a man in there,” he murmured. “A guard? Ah! Tremal-Naik!”

  The Bengali was at his side in an instant.

  “You were right, that sepoy hasn’t abandoned us,” said Sandokan. “He’s hidden in that tamarind tree, see him? It looks like he’s trying to tell us something.”

  “By Brahma and Shiva!” exclaimed Tremal-Naik. “It is him! If he’s hiding up there, the building must be guarded.”

  “Can you understand what he’s trying to say?”

  “I think he’s trying to tell us to be patient.”

  “I’d prefer a better option,” replied Sandokan. “Signal him to get us some weapons.”

  “Too late; he’s disappeared again. Someone must be coming.”

  They turned their gaze and spotted two men climbing over the wall into the yard.

  “I think I’ve seen those two turbans before,” said Sandokan.

  “Yes, last night, after dinner,” replied Tremal-Naik. “The men with the subedar who kept their faces hidden.”

  The two Indians looked up at the tower, studied the windows for a few minutes then scrambled back over the wall and disappeared.

  “They came to make sure the bars were still in place,” said Sandokan. “That’s a bad sign.”

  Suddenly they heard the sound of latches being pulled back then the heavy bronze door swung open and the subedar entered the room accompanied by two men carrying baskets and four Sikhs armed with carbines.

  “Gentlemen, I hope you had a good night’s rest,” he asked with a sardonic grin that did not escape the Tiger of Malaysia.

  “We slept well,” replied Sandokan, “Just one recommendation. In our part of the world prisoners are treated with less courtesy but given a few more comforts. If there’s no bed, they’re given leaves. The war hasn’t destroyed all the trees, has it?”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience, sir,” replied the subedar. “Your complaints are fully justified. I didn’t know they were going to leave you here for the night. I thought they were going to shoot you at dawn.”

  “Shoot us!” exclaimed Sandokan and Yanez in unison.

  “That was the plan,” said the Indian, with a touch of embarrassment.

  “Under what charge?” asked Sandokan.

  “I do not know, sir,” replied the Indian. “It was General Abu Hassam’s decision. It appears some people have persuaded him to have you shot. ”

  “What people?” asked Tremal-Naik, stepping forward.

  “I do not know.”

  “Well, then, allow me to enlighten you. They’re Thugs, wretched murderers despised throughout India! And you’ve allowed them to fight under your banner.”

  The subedar remained silent.

  “Is it true the Thugs have ordered our death?” asked Tremal-Naik.

  “I do not know,” the subedar replied weakly.

  “You’re lying! You’ve allied yourselves with those wretches! With thieves and assassins! We marched into the Sundarbans and attacked their lair because they’d kidnapped my daughter. We tried to kill as many as we could, assured we were rendering India a great service; and you would reward us by having us shot? Your general isn’t fighting for India’s freedom; he’s a murderer, just like the Thugs, nothing more.”

  The subedar frowned.

  “That’s enough,” he said. “I’m just following orders, like any good soldier.”

  He turned towards his men, gestured for them to place the two baskets on the ground then left, slamming the door behind him.

  “By Jupiter!” exclaimed Yanez, once they were alone. “That devil of a man almost ruined my appetite. He could have had the decency to give us that news after breakfast. You’d think an officer would have better manners.”

  “They’re talking about shooting us!” exclaimed Tremal-Naik.

  “Not a very pleasant idea is it, my good friend?” said the Portuguese, his good humour restored by the prospect of a meal. “What do you think, Sandokan?”

  “Those wretched Thugs are more powerful than I thought.”

  “And we thought we’d killed them all!”

  “There a
lways seems to be a few more getting in our way, Yanez,” replied Sandokan. “We’ve got to get out of here as soon as possible; they’re certain to have us shot.”

  “Yes, I agree,” said Yanez, “but it can wait until after breakfast. I get better ideas on a full stomach.”

  “Amazing!” exclaimed Tremal-Naik. “Nothing troubles you!”

  “You’ve got to take things as they come,” laughed the Portuguese. “Have they shot us yet? No... well then? No use fretting over mere possibilities.”

  “He’s always the voice of reason,” said Sandokan. “And it’s saved our hides on more than one occasion!”

  “To hell with his chatter!” exclaimed Yanez. “Let’s see what those scoundrels have brought us. By Jupiter! I just had a thought that could ruin my appetite.”

  “What?” asked Sandokan and Tremal-Naik in unison.

  “What if they’ve poisoned the food?”

  “Nonsense!” exclaimed Sandokan. “If they had wanted to kill us, they would have shot us by now.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” replied Yanez.

  He opened the two baskets and found a small stack of flatbread, some roasted antelope, some rice, and a bottle of palm wine. They had even included a few cigarettes: tobacco rolled in small palm leaves.

  “It looks like a hearty meal,” he said, as he bit into some bread.

  “The scoundrels!” he howled. “They’ve put rocks in our food; I almost broke a tooth!”

  “Rocks!” exclaimed Sandokan.

  “I bit into something hard.”

  “Let’s see.”

  He took the bread and tore it in two. To his surprise he spotted a small metal pellet in one of the halves.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed. “What’s this?”

  Yanez grabbed it and studied it curiously.

  “There must be something inside it,” he said.

  “From Bedar?” asked Tremal-Naik.

  “Only one way to find out,” replied Yanez.

  The pellet unscrewed easily; a tiny ball of paper had been wedged inside.

  “Excellent,” he said, tapping it into his hand.

  He unfolded it carefully, so as not to rip the paper and his eyes rested upon several letters written in blue ink.

  “Sanskrit,” he said. “Here, Tremal-Naik, you know the language better than we do.”