Sandokan: The Pirates of Malaysia (The Sandokan Series Book 3)

by Emilio Salgari

  The biscuits he had been holding fell to the floor as his hands went to cover his face. Tears streamed through his fingers, and he began to sob uncontrollably.

  Sandokan and Yanez studied him in silence.

  “My poor mother! I’ve caused her so much pain, she’ll never see her only son again,” the giant added sadly. “She’ll die of sorrow because of me...”

  “You’ve never thought of attempting to escape?” Sandokan asked suddenly.

  The Welshman quickly raised his head and looked the Tiger of Malaysia squarely in the eye.

  “Escape!” he exclaimed. “I’d give my heart’s blood to cast eyes upon my mother once more, to see my home, my village! A hopeless dream... I’ll spend the rest of my miserable life on that wretched island.”

  “What if I offered you the chance?”

  “What!?!” exclaimed the Welshman with amazement. “Aren’t you condemned to life on Norfolk as well?”

  “What does that matter?”

  “You’re the Tiger of Malaysia, the dreaded leader of the pirates of Mompracem. I heard tell of your exploits during my trips to Borneo, and I’ve seen just now what you are capable of, but escape... Forgive me for saying so... but, it’s impossible.”

  “Look around, John Fulton,” said Sandokan. “I’d wager these men share your thirst for freedom.”

  “To a man, sir.”

  “And wouldn’t they do anything to reacquire it?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “If we can unite this horde of rascals, you’ll see them perform miracles, challenge death like my pirates of Mompracem and compete with them in courage and ferocity. Put some determined leaders at their head, and tell me then if it would be impossible to take this ship.”

  The Welshman studied the pirate in silence, his amazement increasing with each passing minute. His eyes, wet with tears just a short while earlier, were now shining with hope.

  “Freedom!” he rattled. “Yes, unite the men, fight the crew, take the ship! If you succeed, my life is yours!”

  “Do you have any influence over these convicts?” asked Yanez.

  “Yes, sir,” replied the Welshman. “Once I fought a guard who was being a little too free with the lash, I almost killed him with a blow... It’s given me a certain authority. They obey me as if I were their leader.”

  “Then you’ll inform them of our plan. I hope no one will give us away.”

  “There’s no need to fear, sir. They all hate the guards.”

  “Any idea how many men there are aboard?”

  “Four officers and eighty crewmen.”

  “Cannons?” asked Sandokan.

  “Two on the quarterdeck,” replied the Welshman.

  “That could be a problem,” Sandokan murmured with a frown. “At the first sign of attack, the crew will entrench themselves on the quarterdeck and fire at us without mercy. We’ll have to disable them.”

  “Impossible, Sandokan,” said Yanez. “There are guards at the wheel.”

  “I know, but those two pieces could slaughter us.”

  The Tiger fell silent as he pondered the problem.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed at last.

  “What is it, little brother?”

  “By Allah!” exclaimed Sandokan as a sinister smile spread across his lips. “It’s an ambitious plan, and it’ll put the ship in danger, but by then we should be close enough to Tanjung Sirik. Time to get to work, John Fulton. The men will have to be ready for battle within three days.”

  Chapter 17

  The Revolt

  WHILE THE CONVICTS were preparing their escape, the old frigate calmly sailed through the vast Bay of Sarawak, driven by a cool southern breeze. Once within sight of the Palo, she tacked and headed north, planning to round Tanjung Sirik and follow the coast of the Sultanate of Borneo. That change of course would considerably lengthen the journey, but the ship had to stop in Labuan to pick up more prisoners before she set off for the Isle of Norfolk.

  Had Sandokan and Yanez been aware of this, they would not have unleashed the revolt so early on, for the ship would soon sail within sight of Mompracem. Fearing that once she had rounded Tanjung Sirik, she would head directly for her final destination, they decided to take the ship without delay. When word came they had sailed past the Palo and the tiny village of Redding, they resolved to act that very night.

  Planning for the revolt had already begun. The three hundred convicts had not raised a single objection to the bold designs put forth by the two pirate captains. Norfolk had a sombre reputation; no one was unaware of the mental and physical torture that awaited them on that island prison, and all had unanimously declared themselves ready to make any sacrifice to regain their freedom.

  John Fulton, who wielded great influence over those three hundred wretches, thanks to his prodigious strength and giant stature, had also vowed to kill any man who would not fight or dared reveal their plans.

  Four days after the pirates of Mompracem had been brought aboard, all had been prepared. The three hundred scoundrels, divided into six squads, had selected their leaders from among the boldest and the strongest, and been assigned a section of the waist. Once lured below, the crew would be divided and overwhelmed by force of numbers.

  “We’ll strike tonight,” Sandokan told the Welshman. “Tell everyone to stand ready; I’ll issue final instructions after pipe down.”

  The giant whispered the message to those beside him then a soft murmur filled the room as the instructions were relayed from man to man. When the bosun piped for silence, the Welshman stretched out on his plank, resting his head near Sandokan and Yanez.

  The three hundred convicts lay down and pretended to sleep; however, from time to time, a few men would slowly sit up and fix anxious eyes upon their leaders.

  “Listen,” the Tiger whispered to the giant who was pretending to snore. “I’d wager you’re strong enough to sever your chains.”

  “Child’s play, Captain.”

  “Excellent. Start with yours then free the young man sleeping beside you. He’s vital to our plan. Does everyone know the signal?”

  “Yes, sir, as soon as they hear us cry, ‘Fire!’ they’ll spring to their feet and await your command.”

  “You may begin.”

  Moving quietly so as not to draw the attention of the guard at the far end of the waist, the Welshman crossed his legs, slid both hands beneath his stomach, and snapped the ringbolts enclosing his chains.

  “Done,” he whispered.

  “Now your friend.”

  John Fulton fixed his eyes upon the guard, waited for him to turn his back, then quickly bent over the young man at his side, sundered his chains, and whispered, “The captain needs to speak to you.”

  The young convict did not move. Through slitted eyes he watched the guard slowly advance up the walk. Once he had turned towards the bow, the prisoner crawled silently towards Sandokan.

  “Can you hear me?” whispered the Tiger.

  “Yes, Captain,” replied the young man.

  “Do you see that vent over there? It leads to the pantry below. Do you think you can squeeze through it?”

  The convict raised his head and quickly studied the narrow opening.

  “It’ll take a bit work, but I should be able to manage it,” he said.

  “Do you have a tinderbox?”

  “No.”

  He turned towards Yanez, who was also pretending to sleep, drew a tinderbox from one of his pockets and handed it to the young man.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked, surprised.

  “Start a fire in the pantry,” replied Sandokan.

  “What?” asked the convict, believing he had misheard.

  “Start a fire in the pantry.”

  “But we’ll burn up as well, Captain.”

  “The fire is vital to our plans. If you want to regain your freedom, do as I bid you and do not question my orders.”

  “I’m not questioning your orders, sir; what about the guard?
”

  “Wait until he has his back to you then make your move.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The rascal drew back and lay on his plank, stone still, his eyes riveted upon the guard pacing at the far end of the ship’s waist. He waited for the guard to turn, then, slithering like a serpent, he cautiously approached the vent. He peered into the opening and crawled in, slowly twisting his body into the tight little space until he disappeared from sight.

  “Did he make it?” whispered Yanez.

  “Yes,” replied Sandokan and the Welshman.

  Several anxious minutes passed. The guard walked towards the centre of the ship’s waist, stopped and looked about. As he turned and resumed his march the convict’s head emerged from the mouth of the vent. He climbed out with incredible speed and quickly rejoined the four pirates and the Welshman.

  “It’s done,” he whispered happily. “I set fire to two cases of lard and smashed open a barrel of oil.”

  He had barely uttered those words when thick black smoke began to pour out from the vent and spread through the ship’s waist. At the sight of it, the convicts shifted slightly, their chains rattling gloomily. The guard, sensing that all was not well, abruptly turned about just as a large flame shot out of the opening and illuminated the deck from end to end.

  “Fire!” he cried out.

  “Fire!... Fire!” thundered the Tiger of Malaysia. “On your feet!...”

  That second cry was greeted with a savage roar, followed by a deafening rattle of chains. No longer cowed by the threat of the lash, the convicts had sprung to their feet like one man, ready for battle.

  Eyeing the flames spreading along the ship’s stern, they began to pull at their chains, cursing and calling out as they attempted to sunder them.

  Hearing the guard’s cry, the watchmen patrolling the deck rushed below. There were about twenty of them, several carried axes and a few had drawn their rifles, but most were unarmed.

  As they entered the waist, they stopped, alarmed by the sight of so many convicts on their feet, but as their eyes fell upon the flames erupting from the pantry, they hesitated no longer and rushed towards the stern, trampling the men that still lay upon the floor.

  It was the moment Sandokan had been waiting for.

  “Attack!” he shouted, rushing forward.

  The Welshman, Yanez, Sambigliong, Tanauduriam and the young man were quick to follow.

  At the sight of those men charging towards him, the guard, who had rushed back to the centre of the ship’s waist, levelled his rifle.

  A shot rang out and the young man, who had just run in front of the Welshman wielding a heavy block of wood, fell to the floor, shot through the skull. Sandokan leapt like a tiger, pounced upon the guard and grabbed his rifle. The Welshman’s fist came down like a blacksmith’s hammer, one quick blow to the head knocking the poor man unconscious.

  Meanwhile, the three hundred convicts had quickly surrounded the men that had responded to the alarm. Outnumbered, the twenty crewmen were quickly knocked down, disarmed, and stripped of their clothing. A few had managed to escape from the hundreds of grabbing arms and had rushed back towards the steps, howling for help at the top of their voices.

  A roar of triumph sounded throughout the ship’s waist as the men cheered their first victory.

  As the flames continued to spread, fed by the stores of oil and lard in the ship’s pantry, the convicts quickly smashed their chains with the axes they had taken from the guards. Twenty seconds later, two hundred men rose to their feet, free from the shackles that had held them prisoner for so many months, a few seconds more and the remainder would be ready to join the battle.

  They had only a few weapons: the guard’s rifle, ten daggers, a few axes and a half-dozen pistols, but their great number gave them the advantage. Sandokan, Yanez, the Welshman and the two Malays, the first armed with an axe, the second with the guard’s rifle, and the others with daggers, had taken command of the first squad of men to sunder their chains, planning to rush up onto the deck.

  The waist was quickly filling with smoke; there was no time to dally.

  “Open the hatch!” shouted Sandokan. “You men with me!”

  Those with axes went to remove the iron grating that sealed the central hatch. Just as Sandokan and his squad were about to head towards the steps, several volleys thundered from the far end of the ship’s waist.

  Forty men, armed with rifles and axes, led by the captain and one of his officers, had stormed into the fray and immediately opened fire. Their sudden appearance was greeted with cries of rage and agony. Several convicts fell, struck by enemy bullets, their blood splattering the planks; but the others charged forward as one, led by the Tiger of Malaysia.

  “Attack! Attack!” he thundered. “We’ve got to take the deck!”

  Suddenly, cries of terror emanated from behind the attack columns. The sound of gunshots filled the air. Believing they were being attacked from behind, Sandokan, Yanez and the Welshman quickly turned towards the flat of the stern. Those shots had not been fired from the officers’ quarters but from the iron grate sealing the main hatch above them. Several crewmen on deck were firing upon the poor wretches attempting to smash through the bars.

  “Kill those men or all is lost!” shouted the Tiger.

  Caught in a crossfire, smoke growing thicker as the flames spread towards the officers’ quarters, the convicts’ plight was growing desperate. Fortunately, the last chains had been sundered, and another mass of men rushed to their aid.

  “Attack!” thundered the Tiger of Malaysia.

  Enraged by the cruel losses they had suffered and by the smoke pouring in from all sides, the convicts attacked with irresistible force. No one could stop those three hundred men thirsting for freedom; at that moment they equalled, perhaps were even more formidable than, the dreaded Tigers of Mompracem.

  The two squads quickly descended upon the forty guards that had regrouped at the far end of the ship’s waist. Volleys of gunfire thundered in quick succession, felling large numbers of unarmed convicts. But what did it matter if many now lay on the floor in pools of blood? The others continued to fight, engaging in a desperate struggle among the smoke and sparks invading the ship’s waist. They fought with their fists, punching and clawing at their opponents, all the while howling threats to instil fear in their enemies.

  Never relenting, Sandokan’s axe and the Welshman’s powerful arms soon breached the crew’s defences.

  “Forward! One more effort!” howled the Tiger of Malaysia, waving a blood-soaked arm.

  The forty guards attempted to regroup once more at the base of the steps and repel that torrent of men with their bayonets, but their weapons were wrenched out of their hands by hundreds of arms and they were forced to retreat back up the stairs, leaving several of their shipmates lying dead upon the floor.

  The path now clear, Sandokan rushed up the steps. The Welshman had grabbed an axe and was quick to follow, waving it about menacingly, while Yanez, Sambigliong and Tanauduriam, all three armed with rifles, fired round after round in an attempt to frighten off the crewmen firing through the iron grate covering the hatch.

  Drunk with bloodlust and certain of victory, the convicts crowded behind their captains and stormed onto the frigate’s deck with a frightening roar.

  The bow and stern lanterns had been doused and the ship was now cloaked in darkness. Thick clouds blanketed the sky, blotting out the stars. A hot wind whistled through the old frigate’s rigging and the sea bellowed dully as the waves crashed against her keel.

  Momentarily blinded by the change in light, the convicts had stopped, unable to see more than a foot in front of them.

  Sandokan, Yanez and the Welshman rushed forward but did not meet any resistance. The crew had disappeared.

  “Where have they gone?” asked Sandokan anxiously.

  “Look! There at the stern!” shouted Yanez.

  Several faint silhouettes were visible through the smoke pouring out from t
he hatch. The frigate’s crew had gathered behind the two cannons on the quarterdeck to protect the wheel and have a better command of the deck. However, it appeared they had not given much thought to the fire beneath them for as the deck below continued to burn, the supporting beams could give way at any moment and plunge them into the flames.

  “Forward!” cried Sandokan, “One last effort.”

  But before he could move Yanez grabbed him brusquely and pulled him down onto the deck. Within seconds, cannon shots flashed from the quarterdeck, lighting up the night as a hail of grapeshot swept the ship from bow to stern.

  Terrible cries filled the air in response to those volleys. Several men jumped back, as others fell badly wounded.

  Sandokan sprang back to his feet, still clutching his axe.

  “Thank you, Yanez,” he said. Then his voice thundered, “Attack!”

  The convicts rushed forward, determined to take the crews’ last refuge before the cannons could fire again. But they had barely gone a few metres when an unexpected obstacle stopped them in their tracks. Large flames erupted through the grate and began to spread along the deck. The mainsail and the topsail, unfurled, caught fire, and quickly began to blaze. Flaming cloth rained down in tatters, singeing the hair and burning the faces of the convicts who had been leading the attack.

  “Retreat!” shouted Sandokan.

  Almost simultaneously, the two cannons thundered again, shaking the old frigate from bow to stern, and another volley of grapeshot sliced through that wall of flame, slaughtering the first wave of attackers.

  Rifle shots followed the cannon blasts, bullets whistling in all directions, as the crew fired blindly at their foes. The convicts cried out ferociously, but there was little they could do, the fire spewing from the hatch blocked their advance and shielded their enemies from attack.

  “Fall back!” thundered the Tiger of Malaysia.