Sandokan: The Tigers of Mompracem (The Sandokan Series Book 1)

by Emilio Salgari

  He walked for three hours, stopping only when his presence would frighten off a bird or beast. He would wait for their cries to die down then once silence had returned, he would continue forward. He arrived at a muddy brook, stepped down into the water and began to walk upstream. After having gone about fifty metres, he spotted a large branch and pulled himself up onto a tree.

  Confident he had done enough to throw the dogs off his trail, he decided to rest, knowing there was little chance of being discovered.

  Half an hour had passed when he heard a soft noise come from below. Holding his breath, he slowly crept forward along the branch and cast an inquiring glance over the dark shadows of the forest. Two men were advancing, bent close to the ground, cautiously examining the terrain. Sandokan immediately knew they were soldiers.

  “The enemy!” he murmured. “Have I gotten myself lost or have they been following me all this time?”

  The two soldiers, it appeared, were trying to find the pirate’s tracks. They advanced a few more metres, then paused to rest, stopping almost directly beneath Sandokan’s hiding place.

  “You know, John,” said one of the two, his voice somewhat unsteady, “this place frightens me a bit.”

  “Me too, James,” replied the other. “That pirate we’re hunting could kill us both as easily as he killed the corporal back in the garden.”

  “I’ll never forget that, John. He seemed more like a giant than a man, ready to tear us all into little pieces. How do you catch a man like that?”

  “It won’t be easy, but that fifty pounds Baron Rosenthal has promised in reward makes it worth a try. The baron must really hate him to offer such a sum from his own pocket. I’d say our chances are better than most. While everyone else is heading west to prevent him from getting on a prahu, that cunning scoundrel’s probably heading north to find a place to hide.”

  “It won’t do him much good. There’ll be a cruiser in these waters by tomorrow; he’ll never get off the island.”

  “You’re right, my friend. So, what do we do now?”

  “Head for the coast I guess, keep searching for his tracks.”

  “Should we wait for Sergeant Willis?”

  “We’ll wait for him on the coast.”

  “I hope he doesn’t run into the pirate. Let’s go.”

  The two soldiers looked about one last time then resumed their march westward, disappearing into the night. Sandokan, who had not missed a word of their discussion, waited for half an hour, then slid silently to the ground.

  Great, thought Sandokan. The soldiers were all heading west; if he continued on his way south, he would probably avoid them all. He would have to be careful though. That Sergeant Willis could have been nearby.

  He resumed his silent march, heading south, crossed the brook once again and opened a path through a thick clump of vines. He was about to round a large camphor tree when a voice shouted threateningly, “If you take a step, if you so much as make a move, I’ll kill you where you stand!”

  Chapter 11

  Giro-Batol

  REMAINING CALM AFTER that sudden harsh command, a command that could easily have cost him his life, the pirate slowly turned around, tightening his grip on his kris, ready to use it at the first opportunity. There, six paces before him stood a soldier, undoubtedly the Sergeant Willis the two trackers had spoken of earlier. He had emerged from behind a bush, coldly aiming his weapon at the pirate, determined to execute his threat.

  Sandokan studied him calmly, his eyes shining strangely, then suddenly, unexpectedly, he began to laugh.

  “Why are you laughing?” asked the sergeant, dismayed by that reaction.

  “I find it amusing you dare threaten my life,” replied Sandokan. “Do you know who I am?”

  “The leader of the pirates of Mompracem.”

  “Are you sure?” hissed Sandokan.

  “I’d wager a week’s pay on it.”

  “Well, you’re right; I am the Tiger of Malaysia!”

  “Ah!”

  The two men silently studied each other for several minutes: Sandokan confident, menacing, the soldier barely hiding his fear but determined not to back down.

  “Well, Willis, what are you waiting for?” taunted Sandokan, “Take me in, claim your reward.”

  “Willis!” exclaimed the soldier, as a wave of superstitious terror raced through him. “How do you know my name?”

  “Nothing escapes one of hell’s minions,” sneered the Tiger.

  “You’re trying to frighten me.”

  “Frighten you!?!” exclaimed Sandokan. “Willis, I can already taste your blood.”

  The soldier had lowered his rifle in fear, uncertain if a man or a demon stood before him. He took a few steps back and tried to take aim, but Sandokan, spotting an opportunity, was quick to pounce, knocking his adversary to the ground before he could fire.

  “Mercy, mercy!” stammered the poor sergeant as he felt the tip of Sandokan’s kris press against his throat.

  “I’ll spare you,” Sandokan said.

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “The Tiger of Malaysia never goes back on his word. Now get up and listen.”

  The sergeant stood up, trembling, his eyes fixed on the pirate.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “I’ve promised to spare your life, but you must answer all the questions I put to you.”

  “Very well.”

  “Where do they think I’m heading?”

  “Towards the west coast.”

  “How many men are following me?”

  “I can’t tell you that; it would be treason.”

  “Yes, you’re right; I admire your courage. I won’t ask again.”

  The sergeant looked at him in amazement.

  “What kind of man are you?” he asked. “I thought you were a wretch, but I can see now I was mistaken.”

  “That matters little to me. Now give me your uniform.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll need it to escape. Are there any Malays or Indians among the soldiers tracking me?”

  “Yes, a few Indian sepoys.”

  “Perfect! Now do as I say and no harm will come to you.”

  The soldier obeyed. Sandokan put on the uniform and cartridge belt, sheathed his dagger, put the beret on his head and slung the carbine round his shoulder.

  “Now I’m going to tie you to that tree,” he added.

  “And leave me to the tigers?”

  “Bah! There aren’t as many about as you think. It’s just a precaution to ensure you don’t run off and betray me.”

  He grabbed the soldier, who did not dare put up the slightest resistance, tied him to a tree with a solid vine, and then quickly marched off into the forest without looking back.

  Once out of sight he began to run; he had to reach the coast tonight and set sail. Tomorrow would be too late. The disguise would fool his pursuers and allow him to obtain passage on a ship and head for the Romades. From there, he would set sail for Mompracem and then… Ah, Marianna! She would see him again soon, leading his men, a powerful conqueror!

  At the thought of her name the pirate’s brow darkened and his features contorted in pain. He brought his hands to his heart and sighed.

  “Quiet, quiet!” he murmured darkly.

  Marianna! Was she thinking of him now? Was she worrying? Wondering if he had been caught, imprisoned, or even killed? He would have given his heart’s blood, drop by drop, to see her again for even an instant, just to tell her the Tiger still lived, and that he would return for her!

  Her promise engraved in his heart, come nightfall he would abandon these inhospitable shores and set sail for his island.

  And then, what would he do? Say goodbye to his life as an adventurer, to his pirates, his Mompracem, and the sea he adored? He had promised her so and he would keep his word. No sacrifice was too great for the one who had captured his heart. He had to get a hold of himself. He would not get very far if he kept thinking of her.

&n
bsp; He resumed his march, walking with ever-increasing speed, tightly clutching his chest, as if attempting to stifle the pounding of his heart. He walked all night, making his way through the jungle, cutting across large fields lined with brooks and ponds, attempting to get his bearings from the stars. At sunrise, he stopped near a colossal grove of durian trees, planning to rest once he had ensured the path was clear.

  He was about to hide among a festoon of lianas, when a voice cried out, “Hey, soldier! What are you looking for in there?”

  Sandokan calmly turned and spotted two soldiers a short distance from him, stretched out beneath the cool shade of an areca tree. As he walked toward them he realized they were the two he had seen in the forest just before he had captured Sergeant Willis.

  “Any luck?” asked Sandokan, marking his English with a heavy accent.

  “Yes, we’re just taking a short rest,” replied one of the two. “We’ve been tracking the pirate all night and we’re too exhausted to take another step.”

  “You found his tracks?” asked Sandokan, feigning amazement. “Where?”

  “Back in the jungle there.”

  “And then you lost them?”

  “They just vanished,” the soldier replied angrily.

  “Where was he headed?”

  “Towards the sea.”

  “Then we’re in perfect agreement.”

  “What do you mean, Sergeant?” asked the two soldiers, springing to their feet.

  “Willis and I…”

  “Willis! You saw him?”

  “Yes, about two hours ago.”

  “Continue, Sergeant.”

  “Willis and I found his tracks not far from the red hill. We’re certain the pirate is trying to reach the northern coast of the island.”

  “Then we’ve been following the wrong tracks!”

  “No, my friends,” said Sandokan. “The pirate has cleverly outplayed us.”

  “How?” asked the eldest soldiers.

  “That scoundrel left a clear path through the forest then doubled back up a riverbed and headed north. Willis is pursuing him as we speak.”

  “What should we do now?”

  “Where are the others?”

  “They’re combing the forest two miles from here, heading east.”

  “Go find them and order them to head immediately to the northern shore. Hurry, his lordship has promised a hundred pounds and a promotion in rank to whoever finds the pirate.”

  Nothing more was needed to entice the two soldiers. They quickly picked up their rifles and stuffed their pipes into their pockets. Then, after having bid Sandokan goodbye, they headed into the jungle and disappeared among the trees. The Tiger of Malaysia watched them go then returned to the bushes.

  “I can sleep for an hour or so while they clear my path,” he murmured, “I’ll devise a plan later.”

  He took several sips of whiskey from Willis’ flask, ate some bananas he had picked in the jungle, then lay his head on a strip of grass and fell deeply asleep.

  When he awoke three or four hours later, the sun was still shining high in the sky. He was about to get up and resume his march, when he heard a rifle blast followed by the sounds of a horse galloping at full speed.

  “Have I been discovered?” murmured Sandokan, ducking back among the bushes.

  He quickly loaded his carbine, pulled back the branches and looked about. He saw nothing, but could still hear the hooves galloping rapidly towards him. At first he thought it was a hunter on the trail of a babirusa[4] but soon realized he had been mistaken. Someone was chasing a man. An instant later, he spotted the fugitive racing across the field, trying to reach a thick grove of banana trees.

  He was short, dark skinned and clothed in rags. He wore a rattan hat, clutched a club in his right hand and a kris in his left. He ran past with such speed that Sandokan could not make out who he was. He had reached the grove of banana trees and disappeared among the giant leaves within seconds.

  A sudden thought struck the pirate.

  “Could it be one of my men?” he murmured. “Could Yanez have sent someone to look for me? He knew I was heading for Labuan.”

  He was about to leave the bushes and attempt to find the fugitive, when a man on horseback appeared at the edge of the forest, a light horseman of the Bengali regiment. Cursing loudly, he vented his anger by spurring his horse and violently jerking its reins.

  The newcomer drew to within fifty paces of the grove of banana trees, then stopped, dismounted, tethered the horse to a tree, loaded his musket and scanned his surroundings.

  “By thunder!” he exclaimed. “I know you’re in there! You’re hiding somewhere and by God you won’t escape a second blast of my musket. John Gibbs is not afraid of the Tiger of Malaysia. If this damned horse hadn’t reared up, you’d no longer be alive!”

  Still grumbling, the horseman unsheathed his sword and made his way towards a clump of bushes and areca trees, cautiously moving the branches as he advanced. The clump bordered on the grove of banana trees, but it was doubtful he would flush out the fugitive, for the man had raced off at full speed over the roots and creepers in his attempt to find a safe hiding place.

  Sandokan had scanned the forest trying to spot the man, but so far he had been unsuccessful. He thought it best to save him; the fugitive could have been one of his men or one of Yanez’ scouts, but first he had to get rid of that light horseman.

  He was about to step out of the bushes, when a soft rustling sound reached his ears. He turned his head toward the noise and spotted the poor man climbing up a vine, attempting to reach the top of a mango tree, its thick leaves offering an excellent hiding place.

  “Well done!” Sandokan murmured.

  He waited until he had reached the branches before he looked down. At the sight of his face, Sandokan could barely contain a cry of joy.

  “Giro-Batol!” he exclaimed, amazed.

  The pirate had escaped death after all! Sandokan remembered catching a glimpse of him, lying on the deck of his prahu, wounded, minutes before the ship disappeared beneath the waves.

  “His soul must be nailed to his body,” he mumbled, “I have to save him!”

  He armed his carbine, walked around the bushes and stopped at the edge of the forest.

  “Hello, sir!” he shouted. “What are you looking for? Did you hit a monkey?”

  At the sound of that voice, the light horseman jumped out of the bushes and levelled his musket.

  “Well! A sergeant!” he exclaimed, amazed.

  “Surprised, my friend?”

  “Where did you come from?”

  “The forest. I heard a rifle blast so I ran over to see what had happened. Did you shoot at a babirusa?”

  “Yes, the most dangerous babirusa in the jungle,” the light horseman snapped angrily.

  “What kind of beast was it then?”

  “Aren’t you looking for a man?” the soldier asked.

  “Yes.”

  “The Tiger of Malaysia?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Have you seen the terrible pirate?”

  “No, but I’ve found his tracks.”

  “I, Sergeant, have found the pirate in person.”

  “Impossible!”

  “I fired at him.”

  “And missed?”

  “Like a novice hunter.”

  “Where’s he hiding?”

  “He may be long gone by now. I saw him cross this field and hide in these bushes here.”

  “Then you won’t find him again.”

  “I’m afraid so. That man is more agile than a monkey and more ferocious than a tiger.”

  “Capable of sending us both to meet our maker.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Sergeant. If it wasn’t for the hundred pounds reward promised by Lord Guillonk, I wouldn’t have dared go after him.”

  “What are you planning to do now?”

  “I don’t know. I may be wasting my time looking through these bushes.”

 
; “Would you like some advice?”

  “By all means, Sergeant.”

  “Get back on your horse and circle the forest.”

  “Would you like to come with me? We’ll have a better chance of success if there are two of us.”

  “That may not be wise. If we both go to one side of the forest, the Tiger will escape from the other. You circle round while I look through the bushes.”

  “An excellent idea! I accept, but on the condition we split the prize if you have the good fortune of capturing the Tiger. I don’t want to lose the entire hundred pounds.”

  “Agreed,” replied Sandokan, smiling.

  The light horseman sheathed his sword, got back in his saddle, placed his musket in front of him and bid goodbye to the sergeant.

  “I’ll await you on the other side of the forest,” he added as he rode off.

  “You’ll be waiting for a long time,” murmured Sandokan.

  He watched the light horseman disappear through the bushes then approached the tree where the fugitive was hiding.

  “Come down, Giro-Batol,” he said.

  He had not yet finished uttering the phrase when the man appeared before him.

  “Captain!” he shouted, his voice overcome with emotion.

  “Surprised to see me still alive, my friend?”

  “Absolutely, Captain,” said the pirate as tears welled in his eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again, I was sure the British had killed you.”

  “The British don’t have enough steel to kill the Tiger of Malaysia,” replied Sandokan. “They wounded me, but I’ve healed and I’m ready to resume the fight.”

  “And the others?”

  “Resting at the bottom of the sea,” sighed Sandokan. “The brave men that stormed that accursed ship have fallen beneath the Lions’ blades.”

  “But we’ll avenge them, won’t we, Captain?”

  “Yes, my friend. We won’t let the British go unpunished. Tell me know, how is it you’re still alive? I remember seeing you fall aboard your prahu during the first battle.”

  “True, Captain. I was struck in the head by a few bullet fragments; they knocked me out but did not kill me. When I came to, my poor prahu, riddled with holes from the cruiser’s cannons, was about to sink. I grabbed onto some wreckage and set off for the coast. I floated for several hours then blacked out. I awoke in a fisherman’s hut. That good man had picked me up fifteen miles from shore, put me in his canoe and brought me to his home. He nursed me back to health, taking great care of me until I had completely healed.”