Suddenly hoarse, savage cries sounded from inside that enormous ship, erupting with great commotion; it lasted barely a moment then all fell silent as a voice from the bridge shouted, “Who goes there?”
“A launch from the rajah’s ship,” replied the officer.
“Approach!”
With a few strokes the launch drew up beneath the frigate’s side. A ladder was quickly lowered.
“Come,” the officer instructed Sandokan and Yanez.
The two pirate leaders obeyed without objection and climbed up the ladder, their men and four soldiers following behind them. When they reached the deck, an officer stepped forward and shined a lantern upon them.
“Your new prisoners, sir,” said the rajah’s officer. “James Brooke entrusts them to your care.”
“So these are the two famous pirates?” asked the lieutenant, casting a scrutinizing glance upon Sandokan and Yanez.
“Yes, sir.”
“Two dangerous men.”
“Guard them carefully.”
“Leave it to us, sir. Convey my best wishes and those of the captain to his Excellency.”
“Are you setting sail?”
“Immediately. The wind is favourable.”
Once the rajah’s men had returned to their launch and pulled away, the frigate tacked and pointed her bow northward. The lieutenant summoned four guards, pointed to Sandokan, Yanez and the two Dyaks and said, “Clap them in irons and take them below, these are very dangerous men.”
At those words, Sandokan moved to rebel; Yanez, ever alert, pressed his arm and whispered, “Keep calm, little brother, or your plan will go up in smoke.”
“Right,” Sandokan replied through clenched teeth.
The quartermaster came forward carrying four sets of leg irons, fastened them about the prisoners’ ankles, then pushed them roughly towards the bow saying, “Come, you wretches.”
He had barely uttered those words when Sandokan’s right arm struck him hard between the shoulders and almost knocked him over the side.
“Wretch?” he hissed. “I am of royal blood; my name is feared throughout these waters and I’ve killed far better men than you!”
The lieutenant quickly stepped between them. However, instead of addressing Sandokan, he pushed away the quartermaster and admonished him severely.
“These men are not mere common criminals The Rajah of Sarawak has asked they be treated with respect. They’re under his protection; I’ll clap in irons whoever dares insult them.”
“I renounce James Brooke’s protection,” Sandokan said proudly. “I ask no more than to be treated as the others, but I will not tolerate insults!”
After having saluted the officer, they followed the quartermaster, who, from time to time, would look over his shoulder as if afraid of receiving yet another blow from that powerful fist.
When they had reached the bow, they went down a short set of steps and entered the ship’s waist. Sandokan and Yanez froze and shuddered in horror.
“What kind of infernal pit is this!?!” asked the Portuguese. “By Jupiter this is the hell of the damned.”
“Yes, a hell that’s about to explode,” said Sandokan. Then turning towards the quartermaster, he asked, “Where’s our place?”
“Down there, towards the stern,” replied the quartermaster.”
“Lead the way!”
Chapter 16
The Convict Ship
A REPUGNANT SPECTACLE met their eyes in the waist of that old convict ship. A sea of unwashed bodies stretched from the crew’s quarters to the flat of the stern. Three hundred men, the dregs of England and the British colonies of Asia, lay side by side, almost atop one another, chained to the floor like wild beasts.
And what a range of scoundrels! Young men brutalized by vice and crime, middle-aged men, still strong and vigorous, and old men with white hair, perhaps more lawless than all the others combined. Thieves, arsonists, murderers, even incorrigible drunkards had been gathered and sent off to the Isle of Norfolk, the worst penal colony in the Pacific Ocean. Some, weakened by tuberculosis or exhausted by the strain of the long, arduous journey, would never get a glimpse of the great pine trees that covered that cursed island.
A foul stench emanated from those three hundred bodies blanketing the ship’s waist. Two lanterns cast their light upon the convicts, smoky flames flickering with each wave of snores. From time to time, a chain creaked mournfully.
Sandokan and Yanez looked on in horror at that foul display of human flesh.
“What kind of infernal pit is this!?!” the Portuguese exclaimed a second time. “It’s even worse than I’d imagined; I’ve seen battlefields strewn with the dead and dying that have been more inviting than this sea of bandits...”
“Come,” the quartermaster said brusquely.
The two pirate captains and their men followed in silence. They slowly advanced through that mass of sleeping souls, taking great care not to step on anyone, and soon reached the stern. The quartermaster had each man sit beside an iron ringbolt fixed into the planks then ordered them to close their eyes and go to sleep.
“Weren’t you ordered to clap us in irons?” asked Sandokan.
“There’s no need for that,” smiled the quartermaster. “You’re... worthy of respect. Sleep well.”
He went off without another a word.
Sandokan and Yanez looked at each other.
“This freedom will favour my plans,” said the Tiger.
“What about our leg irons?” objected Yanez.
“We’ll have them removed at the appropriate time.”
“How do you intend to escape from this place?”
“I’m slowly formulating a plan, Yanez. James Brooke thinks I’m going to let myself be taken to Norfolk. Well, he’s mistaken, my friend. We’ll take this old scow before she’s within sight of Tanjung Sirik.”
“A revolt?”
“Yes, Yanez.”
“And you think these men will obey you?”
“I’d wager they want their freedom as much as we do.”
“What about the crew?”
“They won’t be able to resist the attack. They’ll surrender.”
“And then?”
“We’ll head back to Sarawak.”
“Again?”
“The Tiger of Malaysia will not accept defeat! I should have allied myself with Pangeran Macota years ago; we’ll raise his Dyaks against James Brooke and force the rajah from his throne!”
“Do you know Pangeran Macota?”
“I met him several years ago. He’d be the ruler of Sarawak if his uncle hadn’t handed the throne to Brooke.”
“Where’s the Pangeran now?” asked Yanez.
“In Sedang, under house arrest, guarded by several of the rajah’s most loyal men.”
Suddenly an imperious voice thundered, “Quiet, or you’ll get a taste of the lash.”
“Guard at the bow,” whispered Sambigliong and Tanauduriam, lying behind the two captains.
“Let’s try to get some sleep,” replied Sandokan. “This is not the time to make plans.”
Accustomed to sleeping on the barren ground of the jungles of Borneo, the four men stretched out upon the planks without much discomfort. They closed their eyes and soon fell asleep, gently cradled by the waves breaking against the old vessel’s sides.
During the night, however, Sandokan awoke three times and sat up to observe the convicts sleeping nearby. One in particular drew his attention, a giant of a man with broad shoulders and muscular arms.
He was about forty years old with a Herculean build, thick red hair, a large forehead and regular features that contrasted greatly with the ferocity of his neighbours. Though he was dressed in the cloth outfit of a convict, his bronzed face and his manner of sleeping suggested he had spent a large portion of his life at sea.
More than once, Sandokan had been tempted to wake him, but the fear of drawing the attention of the guard leaning upon his rifle at the far end of the ship
’s waist, held him back.
“Here’s a man who could be of great help to us,” he murmured. “Until tomorrow then.”
After this last thought, he fell asleep once again, his fist clenched near his sash, out of habit, resting where his krises would have been.
The deafening rattle of chains mixed with cries of pain abruptly tore him from his slumber. Two guards were crossing the ship’s waist, snapping their whips in the air.
“Up you scoundrels!” they bellowed.
From time to time, the two whips would fall, harshly striking groups of convicts, drawing a torrent of moans and curses. The lash they wielded so mercilessly, without regard for who they struck, was the dreaded cat-o’-nine-tails, a deadly instrument and popular form of punishment aboard British ships.
The cat draws its name from the nine straps attached to a short handle. Each strap is capped with a small lead ball; they’re much worse than the knuts used by the Russians or the terrible courbasc of hippopotamus skin used by the people of Sudan and Abyssinia. With every strike, the lead balls leave a bloody furrow on the victim’s back. Fifteen to twenty blows can break even the strongest man. Fifty blows can kill him.
The terror this device inspires is inconceivable; it is more feared than the gallows. Once, when a band of stranglers began to stalk the streets of London, the authorities merely had to threaten to punish the guilty with fifty blows of the lash to bring the crime wave to an end.
Yanez, Tanauduriam and Sambigliong had immediately sat up so as not to receive one of those brutal blows. Sandokan, however, after having seen the cause of the noise, lay back down and closed his eyes.
The two guards, continuing their march, soon arrived before the four pirates. Noting that Sandokan had not obeyed the order, one of the two leaned down and shouted, “On your feet!”
The Tiger of Malaysia did not move. Believing the captain had not heard the guard’s cry, Tanauduriam and Sambigliong moved to shake him. A rapid glance from Yanez held them back. The Portuguese knew Sandokan was not asleep; he therefore must have had a reason for keeping his eyes closed.
“On your feet, you scoundrel!” repeated the guard, making the lash whistle in the air.
The command having had no effect, the guard snapped the cat-o’-nine-tails and whipped Sandokan squarely in the chest, slicing through his green silk shirt.
The lash had barely touched his skin when the Tiger of Malaysia sprang to his feet. In a flash, he grabbed the guard by the small of his back and raised him into the air, his voice thundering throughout the waist like a piece of artillery.
“Wretch! You dare strike the Tiger of Malaysia?... I’ll kill you!...”
The guard, barely able to breathe beneath that crushing grip, could only cry out in pain.
His colleague rushed toward Sandokan, whip raised, ready to strike. However, Tanauduriam and Sambigliong, had been watching out for their captain. With one quick movement, they tripped the guard, knocked him down, and pinned him against the planks.
That display of strength and daring made a great impression upon those hardened rascals, toughened by crime and accustomed to admiring courageous and determined men. The pirate’s expensive clothing and the large diamond adorning his green and white silk turban further reinforced their high opinion, for Sandokan looked more like a Bornean prince than a common thief.
Cries of amazement and admiration filled the air.
“What a man!...”
“What strength!...”
“Well done! Kill that oaf!”
A sharp voice suddenly cried out, “Brothers! I propose we proclaim this good prince, king of the convicts!”
A cheer of approval rose from all throats, but was quelled within an instant as a dozen men armed with bayonets, rushed into the ship’s waist, to quickly restore order. A lieutenant, the same man who had received Sandokan and his men the previous night, was in command of the squadron.
“Drop that man!” he shouted, aiming his pistols at Sandokan’s back.
At a sign from Yanez, Tanauduriam and Sambigliong released the second guard, after first relieving him of his whip.
Sandokan turned around.
“Oh! It’s you!” he said, “Take him and consider this a warning; if he ever attempts to raise his whip to me again, I’ll kill him!”
He put down the guard, pushed him forward and said, “Get out of my sight!”
“I promise no one will lay a hand on you for as long as you remain aboard this ship, as per the Rajah’s orders,” said the lieutenant. “However, I’m afraid I must place you in irons.”
“Go ahead,” Sandokan replied coldly.
“I can spare you this humiliation if you give me your word that you will not rebel against my men.”
“I’ll never make such a promise.”
“Clap him in irons,” said the lieutenant, turning towards his men.
Two guards approached Sandokan, took hold of the chains connecting his leg irons, and fastened them to two ringbolts imbedded in the ship’s waist. The pirate let them proceed, and when they had finished, grabbed the chains with both arms, and with a mighty pull, ripped the ringbolts from the planks.
“Here are your rings,” he said. “You’ll need something a little stronger if you wish to tame the Tiger of Malaysia!”
Stunned, the convicts held their breath, eyes riveted upon that man who in such short time had given two examples of his incredible strength and who appeared not to fear those brutal guards. His presence alone was enough to make every man in the ship’s waist tremble. Even the lieutenant, seeing the ringbolts destroyed, had remained motionless, standing there, looking at the formidable pirate with great amazement.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“They were getting in my way,” replied Sandokan. Then proudly drawing up to his full height and crossing his arms, he said disdainfully, “There’s royal blood in my veins; I will never stand for such humiliation, even if I have to fight your entire crew.”
“You’d only get yourself killed.”
“The Tiger of Malaysia does not fear death; he has challenged it in more than a hundred boarding raids! Leave me be and I will not attack your men. James Brooke did not order you to abuse and insult me!”
“Do you promise to cause no further trouble?”
“One can hope,” Sandokan replied disdainfully.
“I promise no one will bother you.”
“Very well.”
Sandokan went back and sat down among his friends, while the lieutenant returned above deck with his men.
The convicts had not moved. They continued to look at the terrible pirate with a mixture of amazement and admiration, almost as if hypnotized by his defiance.
The giant Sandokan had noticed during the night was the most curious of all. He seemed more surprised than the others and did not take his eyes off the pirate captain. Only the arrival of several guards carrying enormous pots and numerous bowls, managed to break the spell.
“Soup’s on!” the convicts exclaimed.
A deafening clatter of chains echoed throughout the ship’s waist.
The early-morning distribution of breakfast had begun. Bowls filled with steaming black soup were quickly circulated among those poor unfortunates and just as quickly emptied.
When they came to James Brooke’s four prisoners, the guards handed out four bowls each and added, undoubtedly as per the captain’s orders, a jug of wine, some biscuits and some ham.
“Great heavens, what luxury!” exclaimed Yanez, who, as always, was in good humour. “Our shipmates will be jealous.”
“They’ll get better fare in time,” replied Sandokan, devouring his soup.
“Still devising your plan?”
“Do you think I made that scene for the pleasure of lifting that guard into the air and getting a lash across the chest? I had to show these convicts what I was capable of, and I had to let them know I was the Tiger of Malaysia. There isn’t much difference between a pirate and a bandit, brother.
You’ll see. From now on these men will obey my every command, my simplest gestures.”
“I’m starting to believe it, Sandokan. These men only bow to strength.”
“Yes, and there’s one man in particular who could be of great help to us. He may even be stronger than I am.”
“The giant sitting nearby, eyeing our food? I’d say the poor devil has a burning desire to share our meal, it is, after all, three times the size of his own.”
Sandokan turned around. The man with red hair was staring longingly at their meal. Given his solid build, the convicts’ thin rations would hardly have sated his appetite. It was the perfect opportunity to begin a friendship.
“Would you like one?” he said, offering him a biscuit.
The convict hesitated for a moment, perhaps ashamed that Sandokan had caught him looking on so hungrily, then quickly stretched out his hand, grabbed the bread and drew it eagerly to his lips.
“Thank you, sir,” he murmured in a voice choked with gratitude.
Two tears welled in his eyes and trickled down his bronze cheeks.
“They don’t feed you very well, do they?” asked Sandokan, offering him a few more biscuits and a piece of ham.
“No, sir, I’ve been dying of hunger for seven long weeks,” the giant replied angrily.
“You should mention it to the officers or the captain.”
“They don’t give much thought to the likes of us. I’ve begged the guards several times to add something to my ration, but they merely laughed in my face and called me a wretch. Me! Hell!... If Fortune hadn’t turned her back to me...”
“Are you an Englishman?”
“Welsh, sir.”
“A seaman?”
“Yes, sir. Aboard a frigate, the Scotland.”
“So how did you end up on a convict ship bound for Norfolk?”
The giant lowered his eyes, then with a voice broken by sobs murmured, “I killed a man...”
“One of your shipmates?”
“The quartermaster, sir. He was a bad piece of work, a bully, a scoundrel! It’s a blur now... one night I drank... I drank too much... and he had the audacity to slap me. Hit me!... John Fulton... the strongest man in Wales! I lost all control... I saw red... I didn’t understand the horror of what I was about to do... I raised my fist and swung at his head... a few minutes later, he was dead!... Cursed be the night that turned an honest sailor into a galley slave, a convict dragging the chains of the damned!...”
Sandokan: The Pirates of Malaysia (The Sandokan Series Book 3) Page 19