In the meantime, the Marianna and the prahus had raised their sails and were preparing to head north for the friendly harbour of Ambong. Only a few men had remained with that tiny fleet, the majority of the Tigers having been reassigned to the cruiser.
“And now,” said Sandokan, once he had issued his final orders to the prahus’ commanders, “let’s free Tremal-Naik and get this war underway. The Rajah of Sarawak and his allies will soon feel my wrath.”
A moment later, the King of the Sea, the new name given to that mighty American ship, set off towards the south at full steam, heading for the Bay of Sarawak.
Part II
Suyodhana’s Son
Chapter 1
A Nocturnal Expedition
“SEÑOR YANEZ, THERE’S a light shining in the roadstead.”
“I’ve seen it, Sambigliong.”
“A prahu?”
“More likely a steamship similar to the one that made off with Darma and Tremal-Naik.”
“It looks like she’s guarding the entrance.”
“It’s possible, my friend,” the Portuguese replied evenly, tossing away the cigarette he had been smoking.
“Do you think we can sneak past her?”
“There’s no need. I doubt they’re expecting an attack. Rejang is a long way from Labuan; I’d wager no one in Sarawak even suspects we headed this way. Word of our declaration of war may not have even spread this far. Besides, dressed as sepoys, I’d challenge anyone to tell the difference between the rajah’s troops and our men.”
“Nevertheless, Señor Yanez, I would have preferred an empty roadstead.”
“The crew’s probably asleep, my dear Sambigliong, but regardless, I doubt it’ll be difficult to take their ship.”
“What! You’re planning to attack them?” asked Sambigliong.
“Best take care of them now; we wouldn’t want them to cause us any problems on our way back. It should be easy to clear a path, whatever she is, she’s probably manned by a small crew. We’ll have to work quickly. No firearms; parangs and krises only. Understood?”
“Yes, Señor Yanez,” replied several voices.
“Excellent, forward then.”
The conversation had taken place aboard a large launch, driven by six pairs of oars and manned by fourteen men dressed in the colourful uniform of the sepoys of Sarawak: white turbans, red jackets, white trousers, and red curled toe shoes.
The men were tall and well built, all Malays and Dyaks save for Yanez and a handsome twenty-eight-year-old American with a close-cropped beard, dressed, like the Portuguese, in a lieutenant’s uniform. A good supply of weapons, krises, parangs and long-barrelled Indian carbines, lay beneath the thwarts.
The launch advanced quickly and silently. Sitting at the stern, tiller in hand, Yanez kept her pointed toward a deep bay off the west coast of the island of Borneo.
A heavy bank of clouds had moved in from the west, blotting out the stars, but despite the darkness the launch advanced without pause, weaving among the large coral reefs that protruded above the waters.
She was sailing towards a small bright speck at the mouth of the roadstead that seemed to sway with the waves. The tiny vessel had already gone a good distance, when the American suddenly broke the silence.
“Captain Yanez, what will we say if they question us?”
“That we’re delivering supplies to Fort McRae,” replied the Portuguese, lighting a second cigarette. “They may ask to inspect the crates, but I doubt it’ll be more than a formality.”
“And once aboard, we’ll attack?”
“Yes, Mister Howard. You’re about to experience your first boarding raid. If she’s a steamship, I’ll need you to stay behind and fire up her engines; I want her ready to take us out upon our return.”
“What do you think our chances are?”
“I have no doubt we’ll succeed. Within two hours, Tremal-Naik and Darma will be aboard the King of the Sea, I’d stake my life on it.”
“You’re extraordinary people, Señor Yanez.”
“Just accustomed to taking risks,” replied the Portuguese. “A trait common among your countrymen from what I hear.”
A voice suddenly cried out in the darkness:
“Who goes there?”
“Supplies for Fort McRae,” replied Yanez.
“No one may go ashore before dawn.”
“On whose orders?”
“Captain Moreland’s; he’s in the fort waiting for his ship to recoal.”
“We’ll draw up beside you and wait then,” replied Yanez.
He turned toward Mister Howard and Sambigliong and whispered, “I didn’t know there was a ship in these waters. Who could that Captain Moreland be?”
“Most likely an Englishman in the service of the Rajah of Sarawak,” replied the American.
“He could be a valuable hostage,” said Sambigliong. “We should take him prisoner once we’ve dealt with the garrison.”
“There could be more men in that fort than we think, my friend,” said Yanez. “Best we avoid an attack. They won’t be suspicious, they’re expecting a supply ship; they’d never imagine we got to it first.”
“An excellent stroke of luck, Señor Yanez,” said the American.
“Yes, sometimes Fortune smiles upon us. There, see? Just as I thought. It’s a steamship, not a prahu. Stand ready, men.”
“Advance!” shouted a dull voice. “Or you’ll get a taste of our grapeshot.”
“You’d be murdering one of the Rajah’s most loyal officers,” replied Yanez.
The man muttered a few words under his breath and fell silent.
The steamship slowly took form as they drew nearer, the large lantern that hung from her smokestack bathing her in dim light.
She was an old wide-beamed vessel about ten metres long; a small cannon peered from her bow. Several men were leaning against the port bulwark, dressed in white, Indians most likely, judging by their turbans.
“Toss us a rope,” said Yanez, as his Malays took in their oars and drew the parangs they had hidden beneath the thwarts.
Sambigliong, now at the bow, grabbed the cable as it came over the steamer’s side.
“Stand ready,” whispered Yanez. “Wait for my signal.”
With a few strokes the launch drew up beside the old ship. Yanez and Mister Howard immediately climbed aboard.
“Who’s in command here?” asked the Portuguese.
“I am, sir,” saluted an Indian in a red sergeant’s uniform. “Forgive the threats, Lieutenant, but Captain Moreland has given strict orders prohibiting anyone from going ashore.”
“Where is the captain?”
“In the fort.”
“And his ship?”
“At the mouth of the Rejang.”
“Are the prisoners still in the fort?”
“The Indian and his daughter?”
“Yes,” said Yanez.
“They were there yesterday; I believe the captain plans to take them to Sarawak once his ship has been recoaled.”
“Does he fear an attack?”
“Yes. There’s a rumour going about that the Tigers of Mompracem have declared war on England and the rajah.”
“Nothing but rumours,” said Yanez. “They’ve all fled to the northern islands of Borneo. How many men do you have aboard?”
“Eight, Lieutenant.”
“Then surrender!”
Before the sergeant could even think to move, the Portuguese had grabbed him by the throat with his right hand, drawn a pistol with his left and aimed it at the man’s chest.
Instantly the twelve Tigers in the launch jumped over the bulwark and rushed at the other Indians, parangs drawn, ready for battle.
“Kill anyone who attempts to resist!” thundered Yanez.
The sergeant, who must have been a courageous man, broke free from the Portuguese’s grip, drew his sabre and shouted:
“Grab your carbines!”
But before he could even take a step, Mist
er Howard lunged at his chest and knocked him to the ground.
With their sergeant overpowered and the pirates poised to attack, the crew raised their hands in surrender.
“Sambigliong, tie the sergeant to the bulwark; the rest of you disarm those men and take them below.”
The orders were quickly executed, no one daring to resist.
“Let’s make this easy, my friend,” the Portuguese continued, sitting down beside the prisoner, “answer my questions, and I’ll spare your life. Refuse and you’ll die. The choice is yours. How many men are stationed at Fort McRae?”
“Fifty, including the captain and one of the Rajah’s lieutenants.”
“What do you know about this Sir Moreland?”
“Not much, sir. He used to be a lieutenant in the Anglo-Indian navy.”
“What’s his business here?”
“I couldn’t say for certain, sir. He commands a large, well-armed steamship, that much I know. They say he’s allied himself with the Rajah of Sarawak and is good friends with the Governor of Labuan.”
“An Englishman?”
“So they say,” replied the sergeant. “I’d wager he has Indian blood in him though, judging by his skin.”
“Whose flag does he sail under?”
“The Rajah of Sarawak’s.”
“How far is it from here to the fort?”
“Less than a mile.”
“Excellent. You’ve been of great assistance. Not only will I spare your life, I’ll give you ten pounds for your troubles. Mister Howard, you’ll remain aboard with two of our men and start the engines. We’ll need them in a few hours. The others will come with me.”
Then he turned to the prisoner and added:
“If memory serves, the fort rests upon a hilltop, is that correct, Sergeant?”
“Directly opposite us,” replied the Indian. “It’s the only hill on this coast.”
“Very well, you and your men will remain our prisoners until our return. If you don’t cause any trouble, we’ll set you free. Mister Howard, the ship is yours.”
“Good luck, Captain Yanez,” replied the American.
The Portuguese ordered two Dyaks to remain aboard, then climbed back down into the launch with Sambigliong and the nine others.
Seconds later the launch pulled away from the old boat and headed into the night. The shore was less than four hundred paces from the old ship and they could hear the waves crashing sullenly against the rocks.
The eleven men quickly disembarked, dragged the launch ashore, slung their carbines over their shoulders, and picked up several large heavy baskets.
“Everyone ready?” asked Yanez.
“Yes, Captain,” they all replied.
“Leave the talking to me, and be ready for anything.”
“We won’t say a word, sir.”
“Forward then, my brave friends.”
The clouds had parted and Yanez’ eyes turned to the fort atop the hill as he gave the signal to depart. The squad set off in silence, the Portuguese lighting their march with a large lamp he had taken from the launch.
Once they had made their way across the dunes, they spotted a path through an indigo plantation that appeared to lead up to the fort. Marching forward in single file, twenty minutes later the eleven men reached the base of a small hill about two hundred metres high. They could barely make out the silhouette of a construction at the top of it, a small tower and a couple of buildings surrounded by a palisade.
“They’d have to have been blind not to have spotted our lantern,” said Yanez. “My dear Sir Moreland, prepare yourself for a visit from the Tigers of Mompracem!”
Those large baskets being quite heavy, Yanez granted his men a short rest, then drew his sabre and set off up the path.
The squad had just reached the middle of the hill, when a voice thundered out from the fort’s glacis.
“Who goes there?”
“Lieutenant Farshon and a squad of sepoys from Sarawak with provisions for the fort and orders for Captain Moreland.”
“Wait.”
A buzz of voices reached their ears as several lights gathered behind the wall. Minutes later, they were met by three men that appeared to be Dyaks dressed in Indian uniforms. They were all armed with carbines and one of them carried a torch.
“Where did you arrive from, Lieutenant?” asked one of the three.
“Kohong,” replied Yanez. “Is Captain Moreland still up?”
“He’s just finished dining with the prisoners.”
“They dine late at Fort Macrae.”
“The captain returned late this evening after sundown.”
“Take me to him immediately; I bear urgent news.”
“Follow me, Lieutenant.”
Yanez fell in behind the soldier, plagued by a sudden thought. He had not expected Darma and Tremal-Naik to be in the captain’s company. How would they react to his sudden appearance? A cry of surprise could quickly bring the whole adventure to an end. He would have to keep his guard up at all times.
The squad crossed the drawbridge, entered a vast courtyard enclosed by high thick walls and stopped before a large brick building with a two-storey tower. Lights shone from the ground floor windows, the shutters having been left open.
“Come, Lieutenant. The captain is in there,” said one of the three Dyaks. “Should I find room for your men in the barracks?”
“Not for the moment; they’ll wait for me in the courtyard.”
He sheathed his sabre, glanced at the pistols in his sash, cast a last look at Sambigliong, then feigning great calm, opened the door that led into a small dining room. There, before a richly laid table bathed in the soft glow of a Chinese lantern, sat Darma, Tremal-Naik and the captain.
Chapter 2
A Surprise Attack
AT THE SIGHT of Yanez in that strange uniform, Tremal-Naik and Darma had sprung to their feet, mouths agape, about to cry out in surprise. But before they could make a sound, the Portuguese shot them a stern glance, warning them to be silent.
Fortunately, Captain Moreland had missed that exchange. Sitting with his back to the door, he had gotten his sabre strap caught in the back of the chair as he stood up. With a half turn his eyes fell squarely upon the Portuguese who immediately saluted.
The captain was a handsome young man, about twenty-five years old, tall, slim, with piercing dark eyes, a close-cropped black beard and dark bronze skin. At first glance one would have taken him for an Indian or a Malay though his features appeared more European.
“Where did you come from, Lieutenant?” he asked in English, after having taken in the newcomer.
“Kohong. I’m delivering provisions from the governor. You were expecting them, Captain?”
“Yes, I requested a few things I couldn’t find here.”
“A few bottles of wine and several other goods from Europe?”
“Exactly,” replied the captain, “but there was no need to send an officer. A few soldiers would have sufficed.”
“They thought it best to send an officer, sir; I was asked to relay a message to you.”
“A message?”
“Serious news I’m afraid, Sir Moreland.”
“You’re in command of the garrison of Kohong?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“You aren’t British, though, are you?”
“No, sir, a Spaniard; I’ve been in the Rajah’s service for several years.”
“Well then, Lieutenant, you have my full attention.”
Yanez pointed to Tremal-Naik and Darma, who were still standing, looking at him with increasing amazement without, however, showing any signs to alarm the captain.
“You’re right,” said Sir Moreland, as a smile spread across his lips. “We shouldn’t talk in front of my prisoners.”
He turned toward Tremal-Naik and Darma.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said courteously. “Military matters.”
Interesting, thought Yanez. They’re treated more like gue
sts than captives.
He studied the captain and noticed that the young man’s gaze repeatedly turned towards Darma, who lowered her eyes, the color rising slightly in her cheeks.
“By the devil!” murmured the Portuguese. “What do we have here?”
The captain opened a side door and led Yanez into a small elegantly furnished room. The floor was covered with thick carpets, broad silk divans lined each wall and each corner was adorned with a large ornate bronze vase.
A round blue lamp hung from the ceiling, filling the room with a soft blue light that made the silver embroidery in the carpets sparkle.
“No one can hear us now, Lieutenant,” said the captain, having locked the door with a key and drawn a heavy brocade curtain across it.
“Captain, are you aware that the Tigers of Mompracem have declared war on England, the Rajah of Sarawak and his allies?” asked Yanez.
“I received a message from the rajah last night,” replied Sir Moreland.
“Those men are mad!”
“Not as mad as you may think,” replied Yanez. “You may remember Sandokan defeated James Brooke sixteen years ago, when the White Rajah was at the height of his power. Brooke was believed to be invincible and yet…”
“Different times, Lieutenant. And then to challenge England! Doesn’t he realize every country in Europe fears the might of the British navy? Those fools will ply these waters with their prahus for a while and scatter at the first sign of cannon fire.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Sir Moreland. The Tiger of Malaysia is better armed than we expected. Yesterday a large steamship was spotted just twenty miles from Kohong, flying the red flag of the Tigers of Mompracem.”
The captain started.
“They’re already here?” he exclaimed.
“And drawing closer as we speak.”
“Have you seen this ship?”
“No, Captain.”
“Why are they coming here? Could they have discovered the location of my ship?”
“The Governor of Kohong believes they plan to attack Fort McRae and attempt to free the two prisoners. He sent me here to warn you and make arrangements for their immediate departure. I’ve been ordered to take them back with me; I have a boat waiting in the roadstead.”
Sandokan: The King of the Sea (The Sandokan Series Book 5) Page 15