“Men most likely.”
“Then the Dyaks must be advancing from the west.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“What should we do?”
“Get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“What about the elephants?”
“A few blasts from our carbines should keep them at bay. They’re afraid of the noise, they’ll change course after a couple of shots.”
“Ahead then,” the Portuguese commanded determinedly. “We must reach the kampong ahead of the Dyaks.”
They set off with great speed, slashing away at the rotangs and calamuses, the rumbling growing louder with every step.
The pilot had been correct. They could hear a few elephants trumpeting with fear as the great beasts barrelled through the jungle, flattening plants and vines with a deafening clatter. Something had frightened them; surely the Dyaks.
Yanez and his men quickened their pace, afraid of being crushed in that dangerous stampede.
They soon reached a clearing and began to run, often glancing back in fear, expecting those giant beasts to descend upon them at any moment. Even the Portuguese appeared worried.
They had just reached a thicket of enormous camphor trees, when the pilot stopped suddenly and shouted:
“Quick! Into the grove! They’re coming!”
They dove in behind the trees just as a band of charging elephants emerged from a thicket of putats, trunks and branches snapping in a shower of pink and white flowers.
Crazed with fear, the great beasts ran blindly, storming past into a grove of young palm trees, crushing them into the ground like blades of grass.
The rest of the herd followed quickly behind, tearing through the forest with a frightening clamour. Forty or fifty elephants, male and female, were barrelling forward, their formidable trunks felling the trees and bushes that stood before them. Spying a few that appeared to be heading toward the camphor trees, Yanez levelled his carbine and was about to fire, when he spotted several bright dots flashing behind them.
“No one move! Don’t make a sound! The Dyaks!” exclaimed Padada.
A dozen men, clad only in loincloths, were running behind the elephants, hurling torches at their backs, then scooping up the burning branches to resume that fiery rain.
Though they could have easily crushed their assailants, the elephants, terrified by the flames, had not dared to fight back.
“Don’t move and hold your fire!” Padada quickly repeated.
The elephants thundered past the thicket, the colossal trees too thick to topple, and soon the herd had disappeared into the forest, driven ever forward by the Dyaks.
“Hunters?” asked Yanez, once the noise had died down.
“Hunting us,” the Malay replied. “Some men must have been keeping an eye on the pier; since their numbers were small they decided to use the elephants. They’ll run those poor beasts through the entire forest in hope of trampling us to death.”
“So we might come across them again?”
“It’s quite likely, sir, we’ve got to get to the kampong as quickly as possible.”
“How far is it?”
“I’m not sure; it’s difficult to get my bearings. However, I think we can get there before dawn.”
“Best head off then before the elephants return. We aren’t always going to find a grove of camphor trees to take shelter in. I am surprised by one thing though.”
“What, sir?”
“How those savages managed to round up so many of the beasts.”
“They probably came across them by chance, Captain. Dyaks don’t train elephants like mahouts do in India,” replied Tangusa, joining the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to find a herd of fifty or a hundred elephants in these forests.”
“And they don’t fight back?”
“Not against fire. They’ll run for as long as the Dyaks have the strength or until those torches go out.”
“I didn’t think those rascals were so cunning. Let’s go, my friends, best we get out of here!”
They left the thicket that had shielded them from that frightening attack and headed in among groves of rubber trees, dammara trees and sandaraes, trying to get their bearings as best they could, the thick canopy shutting out the stars above them.
The vegetation soon began to thin, and as the threat of an ambush decreased the men picked up their pace. They could still hear the elephants charging through the forest off in the distance, but the sound was growing fainter.
The poor beasts were at the Dyaks’ mercy, driven forward without pause, as the savages scoured the forest looking for their prey.
Padada and Tangusa, ever vigilant, led the way forward, keeping the squad safely out of danger.
The sounds of that thunderous charge echoed throughout the trees for a half hour then slowly began to fade, as the herd changed direction and headed towards the south. The rumbling grew softer and softer until the forest eventually fell silent.
“They’re heading for the Kabatuan,” said the pilot. “They probably think we haven’t made it this far.”
“Stubborn rascals,” said Yanez. “Looks like they’re going to fight us to the death.”
“Well, sir,” replied Padada, “they know they’ll never take the kampong once we’re inside.”
“They can have the kampong. We don’t plan to settle here. My orders are to take Tremal-Naik and his daughter to Mompracem, not to wage war on the sherip, at least for the moment. Later, things may change.”
“You’re just going to leave him be after all the trouble he’s caused? Don’t you want to know who he is? Find out why he attacked you?”
“Oh, I doubt we’ve seen the last of him,” Yanez replied with a smile. “One day we’ll settle our accounts with that gentleman. For now we’re going to take our friend and his young daughter to safety. Where are we now? The forest seems to be thinning.”
“It’s a good sign, sir. We’re probably pretty close to the kampong.”
“We should be within sight of the first plantations in a few minutes,” said Tangusa, carefully studying his surroundings. “We’re pretty close to the Marapohe if I’m not mistaken.”
“What’s that?” asked Yanez.
“One of the Kabatuan’s tributaries; it runs past the outskirts of the farm. Halt, gentlemen!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Look over there!” exclaimed Tangusa.
Yanez peered through an opening in the vegetation and spotted a large bright light shining in the darkness. It was too large to be a lantern.
“The kampong?” he asked.
“Or a Dyak camp?” replied Tangusa.
“Should we prepare for battle?”
“We’ll come at the enemy’s backs, sir.”
“Shh,” whispered the pilot, who had taken a few steps forward.
“What now?” asked Yanez, after a few minutes had passed.
“Hear that? That’s the river. The kampong isn’t far; this way, sir.”
“Find us a good place to cross,” Yanez replied resolutely. “Be ready for anything. If the kampong is under attack, we’ll open fire and give no quarter. Tremal-Naik will help us as best he can.”
Chapter 7
Pangutaran’s Kampong
FIVE MINUTES LATER the squad had silently forded the shallow stream and gathered upon the opposite shore.
A vast plain, marked by a few small groves of palm and pombo trees, stretched out before them, extending towards a large structure capped by a tower. Though the building was little more than a silhouette in the dim predawn light, the pilot and Tangusa recognized it immediately.
“Pangutaran’s kampong!” they exclaimed in unison.
“Surrounded by Dyaks,” added Yanez with a frown. “How did they beat us here?”
Bonfires blazed about the edge of the plain, arching towards the kampong in a long line of light.
The men halted and quickly scanned the flames, trying to catch a glimpse of their enem
y in hope of determining their number.
“A fine dilemma,” murmured Yanez. “If we rush in blindly, we could find ourselves outnumbered twenty to one. On the other hand if we wait until dawn, we’ll lose the element of surprise and increase our chances of defeat.”
“Sir,” said the pilot. “What should we do?”
“How many of them do you think there are?”
“A lot judging by the number of bonfires. Would you like me to scout their camp?”
Yanez looked at him uncertainly.
“You still don’t trust me, do you, sir?” Padada said with a smile. “I can’t say I blame you; I wouldn’t trust someone that served my enemy up until yesterday. But there’s no need to worry. I’m a Malay, and I’ve given you my word. Consider me a loyal member of your crew.”
“Can you make it back before sunrise?”
“It’ll be dark for another half hour; I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Fine then, I’ll consider it proof of your loyalty,” said Yanez.
“I won’t let you down, sir.”
Given a parang, the Malay saluted and went off, slithering through a small field of ginger plants that the besiegers had left untouched.
Yanez pulled out his watch to mark the time. If the pilot failed to return soon, they would have to move quickly to execute a surprise attack. Six minutes later he spotted Padada running back towards him at full speed.
“Well?” asked Yanez, moving to meet him.
“We’re in luck! The bulk of their forces must still be scouring the jungle. There are barely more than a hundred warriors guarding the camp, and they’re spread out so thinly they won’t be able to withstand a sudden attack.”
“Do they have firearms?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bah! We’ve seen how good their aim is.”
He turned towards his men who were awaiting the order to attack.
“We’ll give no quarter,” he said. “Let’s show these headhunters how the Tigers of Mompracem made their name.”
“We’ll slay anyone that gets in our way, Señor Yanez,” replied the eldest. “We won’t leave a man standing.”
“We’ll advance as quietly as possible, try not to make a sound. Hold your fire until you hear my command. Now, ready your weapons.”
They formed two columns, the strongest men at the fore, then the squad headed silently in among the ginger plants.
Yanez slung his carbine over his shoulder, unsheathed his scimitar and drew a long-barrelled pistol from his belt.
They quickly crossed the plantation and in less than four minutes were within eighty paces of their enemies.
Thinking themselves safe from attack, the Dyaks had spread out in small groups, four or five men sat around each fire.
The kampong was about three hundred metres from the camp, on the far side of the plain. It was a type of kotta, a Bornean fortress, consisting of a number of small buildings protected by a wall of hard teak wood thick enough to withstand volleys from small lelas and meriams. Thickets of thorny vines lined its walls, which made them even more difficult to scale.
The main building was a beautiful house that resembled an Indian bungalow. A wooden tower, similar to a minaret, had been erected on its roof; a large lamp shone from the top of it.
“Tangusa,” said Yanez, after having ordered his men to halt for a moment as he studied the kampong’s layout, “where’s the gate?”
“In front of us, sir.”
“Among those thorns?”
“I’ll guide you.”
“Ready?” asked Yanez, turning towards the pirates.
“Ready, Captain.”
“We’ll attack to the cry of ‘Hurrah Mompracem!’ We’ve got to let Tremal-Naik and his men know who we are. We can’t risk drawing their fire. Now, my Tigers!”
The eighteen men rushed out of the bushes and descended upon the nearest bonfire. Once unleashed, nothing could stop the dreaded Tigers of Mompracem.
Their first volley killed six Dyaks; the pirates tore across the enemy line, carbines and pistols blazing, as cries of “Hurrah Mompracem!” filled the air.
Surprised by that unexpected attack, the headhunters immediately scattered; allowing the bold squad to advance unopposed to the grove of thorns that lined the kampong’s wall.
Men peered down from the parapet and immediately aimed their rifles. They were just about to fire when a voice thundered:
“Hold your fire! They’re friends! Raise the gate!”
“Tremal-Naik,” Yanez shouted gleefully. “Your timing couldn’t have been better. We’ve gotten our fill of lead from the Dyaks.”
“Yanez!” the Bengali exclaimed joyfully.
“Who did you think it would be? Raise the gate! Quickly! The Dyaks are on our heels!”
A band of men ran to the ropes, pulleys squeaked frenziedly as an enormous teak plank, as heavy as iron, was quickly hoisted up.
Volleys of gunfire thundered from the kampong, scattering the attackers as Yanez and his men rushed inside.
A tall handsome man with dark eyes and light bronze skin had come to meet them, arms spread wide in greeting.
He was dressed in the latest fashions, having long ago abandoned the dhoti and dubgah for the modern attire popular among Anglo-Hindus: a white canvas jacket with red silk frogging, a large sash embroidered with gold, white trousers and a turban. Though his hair and moustache had become grey with age, his arms were still strong and powerful.
“Yanez, my friend!” he exclaimed, embracing the Portuguese warmly. “I knew you’d come! How is the Tiger of Malaysia?”
“Bursting with good health.”
“And Surama?”
“Still happily in love with me. Where’s Darma?”
“The tiger or my daughter?”
“Both, I forgot about your noble pet.”
“My daughter is asleep and the tiger is marching toward the coast with Kammamuri.”
“What? The Maratha isn’t here?” exclaimed Yanez.
“He was afraid Tangusa had been captured, so against my advice, he assembled a small escort and made plans to set sail for Mompracem. If he managed to escape the Dyaks, he may be on his way by now.”
“Then we’ll meet up with him later.”
“Come, my friend,” said Tremal-Naik. “This isn’t a place for a reunion. Tangusa, have them bring refreshments for the Tigers of Mompracem.”
He set off towards the bungalow, leading his friend past several granaries and a double row of huts. Minutes later, they entered a large room on the main floor, an elegant Indian lamp bathing them in pale blue light.
Though far from his native Bengal, Tremal-Naik had not deprived himself of its comforts, each room furnished with the fine hand-carved furniture and the low comfortable divans common among the homes of the wealthy in the land of Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu.
“First a shot of bram,” said the Bengali, filling two glasses with that excellent liqueur made of fermented rice, sugar and palm wine. “It’ll help cool you off.”
“I’ve just run twelve leagues; I’m sweating like a horse. I’m not a young man anymore, my friend,” said Yanez, quickly draining the glass. “Now tell me, any idea what’s caused this uprising?”
“All in due time. How did you get here?”
“Aboard the Marianna; it’s been quite the adventure. We’ve been battling the Dyaks since we set eyes on the mouth of the river. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Where did you leave her?”
“At the pier.”
“How large is your crew?”
“Thirty-five in all; I left fifteen of my men aboard.”
Tremal-Naik suddenly appeared ill at ease.
“More than enough to defend my ship,” Yanez added soothingly.
“There are more Dyaks than I thought. They’re well armed and they’re being trained to use guns and carbines.”
“Have you seen this wretched sherip?”
“Not so much as a glimpse o
f him!”
“So you don’t know who he is?” Yanez asked, amazed.
“No,” Tremal-Naik replied. “I sent a messenger to him two weeks ago, inviting him here for a parley. I hoped to learn the reason behind this sudden unexpected attack.”
“And?”
“He replied that I should come to him with my daughter so that he could take both our heads.”
“The dog!” Yanez exclaimed angrily. “How did this all begin? Did you offend a Dyak chieftain? Those headhunters are ferociously vindictive.”
“I’ve never done anyone any harm. And he isn’t even a Dyak,” the Bengali replied.
“Any idea where he’s from?”
“I don’t know, some say he’s an Arab, some say he’s African, others claim he’s Indian.”
“Yet he must have a reason for hating you.”
“Unquestionably. I’ve wracked my brain, but I have no idea who he could be. I do have a slight suspicion though.”
“Oh?”
“It’s absurd. You’d laugh if I told you,” said Tremal-Naik.
“Let’s hear it.”
“I think he may be a Thug.”
But instead of smiling, Yanez suddenly turned pale.
“It’s not as absurd as you may think, Tremal-Naik,” he said, his voice now serious, “Not all of Suyodhana’s men died in the caves of Rajmangal. Many made it to Delhi; some may have survived the massacre.”
“It’s been eleven years, who could possibly want to avenge Suyodhana after all this time?”
“Who knows? But you know how ruthless they are. You caused their demise, it’s logical to assume they’d want vengeance.”
A look of anguish spread across the Bengali’s face. He fell silent for a moment as he pondered the idea, then put up his hand and quickly waved away the thought.
“It’s absurd. The Thugs disbanded years ago, otherwise they would not have waited this long to track me down. That sherip is probably just some adventurous scoundrel who wants to chase me off so he can carve out a kingdom upon these shores. Who knows what he’s said to those Dyaks to turn them against me. He’s probably spread the word that I’m not a Muslim, or worse, that I’m secretly their enemy, determined to win their trust then make them subjects of the British Empire. Granted, he’s driven, he’s a fanatic, but I doubt he’s a Thug.”
Sandokan: The King of the Sea (The Sandokan Series Book 5) Page 6