It was a magnificent morning; a light cool breeze blew from the south, rippling the waters of the Sunda Sea, and murmuring gently among the cruiser’s metal shrouds.
Flocks of petrels and sooties, small dark-feathered albatross, wheeled above the ship, swooping down at times to prey upon the flying fish skipping across the waves.
Spying the captain leaning against the American’s arm, Yanez, who was taking his morning stroll with Surama, quickly walked toward him.
“Glad to see you back on your feet, Sir Moreland,” he said. “The sea air should help speed your recovery.”
“Yes, I feel fine, Señor Yanez, thanks to the good doctor,” replied the captain.
“From this moment on, consider yourself our guest. You’re free to move about as you wish. No part of our ship will be off limits.”
“Don’t you fear I might abuse your generosity?”
“Not at all, I recognize a gentleman when I see one.”
“To think that one day we may face each other as enemies.”
“We’ll fight with honour.”
“Naturally, Señor Yanez,” said Sir Moreland, a trace of bitterness in his voice.
He cast a long look upon the water, filled his lungs with sea air, and said:
“You’ve left the tropics. This breeze is taking us north. Would it be an imposition to ask where we’re going?”
“Quite a ways from Sarawak.”
“You’re leaving the rajah’s waters?”
“Just for the moment; we have to renew our supplies.”
“I thought every port had been closed to you.”
“Yes, that’s right, but there’s no shortage of enemies to plunder,” the Portuguese replied with a smile. “Sir Moreland, I’d suggest you find a comfortable place to sit and take in a little of this morning breeze.”
The young man bowed courteously and with the doctor’s help set off for the quarterdeck, where he had spotted Darma sitting on a chair beneath an awning.
The young woman was pretending to read a book, but her eyes had been fixed upon the captain all the while.
“Miss Darma,” said Sir Moreland, as he came up before her, “May I sit with you?”
“I was hoping I’d see you on deck soon,” replied the young woman, her cheeks colouring slightly. “The sunshine and sea air must be a nice change from your cabin.”
Dr. Held helped the patient into a chair, then lit a cigarette and went off to join Yanez and Surama who were watching the flying fish play among the waves.
Sir Moreland remained silent for several minutes, his eyes fixed upon the young woman, more beautiful than ever in her azure cotton gown.
“After your escape, I feared I’d never see you again,” he said at last. “You played your part well, Miss.”
“You don’t begrudge me for having deceived you, Sir Moreland?”
“No, Miss. You had the right to use any means at your disposal to regain your freedom. However, I would have preferred it had you still been my captive.”
“Why?”
“I felt happy by your side.”
The captain sighed heavily.
“I’m afraid Fate will force me to forget you,” he said sadly.
At those words Darma turned extremely pale.
“Yes, Sir Moreland, we’ll have to yield to the cruelties of destiny,” she replied.
“And yet,” continued the captain, “I would do anything to make it otherwise.”
“Do not forget, sir, that we’re on opposite sides of a war, a war that will divide us forever. What would my father, Yanez and Sandokan say if they learned I’d accepted the hand of one of their enemies? And what would your countrymen say? Have you given that much thought, Sir Moreland? Their hatred of us is unrelenting; even as we speak the fleets of Labuan and Sarawak are combing these waters, set upon our destruction. How could you, one of the Rajah’s bravest officers, marry a woman protected by the Tigers of Mompracem? It’s impossible, a dream that can never be; the abyss between us is too great.”
“Our love would bridge it; love knows no bounds, if—”
“I wish it were so,” Darma said sadly. “Forget me, Sir Moreland. One day you’ll be free. Go back to your people and do your duty. And should it fall to you to destroy us, so be it. We love each other; and that’s all we’ll have. Our fate is written in blood, there’s no escaping it.”
“Kill you!” the captain exclaimed. “The others yes, but not you.”
The word “others” had been spoken with such hatred that Darma looked at him in astonishment.
“Your tone betrays more than duty. Why such vengeance? Do you harbour a grudge against Sandokan, Yanez, and my father?”
Sir Moreland bit his lip and fell silent for a moment.
“No captain can ever forgive a man that sinks his ship,” he replied finally. “I’ve been defeated and dishonoured; one day I must have my revenge.”
“And you’d drown them all?” asked Darma, her fear mounting with every word.
“It would’ve been better had I gone down with my ship,” said the captain, avoiding the young woman’s question. “At least I’d no longer be haunted by those terrible cries.”
“What cries, Sir Moreland?”
“Nothing, Miss Darma,” the commander replied dully, “Nothing.”
He got up and began to pace nervously, heedless of the pain from his wound.
Dr. Held, seeing him so agitated, quickly drew near.
“Sir Moreland,” he said. “I must ask you to sit down. We can’t risk your wound reopening.”
“What does it matter?” replied the young man. “Were I to die now, at least this tragedy would come to an end.”
“Don’t regret having been rescued, sir,” the doctor said, taking him by the arm and leading him towards the stairs. “Who can predict what the future may hold?”
“Only bitterness,” replied the captain.
“Yet yesterday you appeared overjoyed to find yourself still alive.”
Sir Moreland did not reply.
“Come, we’ll go back to your cabin, perhaps a short rest will help raise your spirits.”
The two men went off and disappeared below deck.
Meanwhile the King of the Sea continued on her north-eastern course, her speed at seven knots.
At midday, Yanez and Sandokan, having studied the chart and made their calculations, concluded they were about a hundred and fifty miles from the shores of Mangalum, a distance they could overcome in about twenty-four hours at their present speed.
Both were in a hurry to reach their destination, for though the morning had been magnificent, it appeared the weather was about to change.
Thick white clouds had been spotted advancing towards them from the south, undoubtedly heralding the arrival of a storm, a prospect the two pirates did not relish, those waters being strewn with reefs and sandbanks.
Caught there, in the open, the King of the Sea would be in great danger, for the cold southern and western winds that sweep the Sunda Sea produce large, frightening waves that rival those of the Pacific. Mangalum could not have sheltered them, her tiny harbour too shallow for such a large ship.
Their fears soon proved to be justified.
That night the sun set amidst a thick veil of dark clouds and the breeze strengthened into a strong cool wind.
The sea began to toss and roll. Waves raced in from the south, bellowing dully as they crashed against the cruiser’s sides.
“The sea’s growing restless,” Yanez informed Dr. Held, who had come back on deck. “And it’ll be even worse tomorrow. Expect to be tossed about if there’s a hurricane. I’ve sailed through these waters before and know how bad it can get.”
“There’ll be some monstrous waves, won’t there, Señor Yanez?”
“Fifteen, maybe eighteen metres high.”
“But Mangalum isn’t that far off.”
“Best to be as far from her shores as possible, my dear Dr. Held. Mangalum is little more than a large ree
f and her two neighbouring islands are just big rocks.”
“It doesn’t sound like a pleasant place to live.”
“Yet the people there are perfectly happy with their patch of land, even though they’re pretty much isolated from the rest of the world. Ships rarely stop there, that coaling station only needs to be re-supplied once every two or three years.”
“They say it’s the smallest colony in the world.”
“True. I doubt it’s inhabited by more than a hundred people. Last year there were only ninety-nine. However, at one point there were a hundred and twenty people living on that rock.”
“What happened to them?”
“There was a terrible storm. Large tidal waves struck the island and swept away several houses and many of its inhabitants.”
“And the survivors decided to remain there?”
“It appears they love their little home; there’s no other place in the world where they can enjoy such freedom. Though it’s populated by a mix of races, Englishmen, Americans, Malays, Bughis, Macassars and Chinese, they are all treated as equals and live in perfect harmony. They are ruled by a governor, the oldest person on the island, who is advised by a group of elders. The islanders work communally, learn skills as needed, and have no need for money. Last I heard, there were more women than men on that tiny island, but they all share in the heavy work, each doing their part to help the colony prosper.”
“What a marvellous place!” the doctor exclaimed.
“In certain ways it is quite admirable,” said Yanez.
“How long has it been inhabited?”
“Since 1810, before then, there was nothing but birds. An English deserter named Granvill was the first to set foot on those shores, accompanied by a countryman and an American. The strongest of the three, Granvill proclaimed himself king of the island and its two tiny neighbours. It didn’t seem to bring him much luck though, for when the British government sent a ship to take possession of the island in 1818, only the American was still alive. He had a lot of gold in his possession; useless trinkets among those rocks, but enough to make him a wealthy man back home. Though he was offered transport to America, he politely declined.
“Little by little, Malays, Bughis and even British colonists came to settle there. In 1865 the population multiplied overnight when American corsairs put ashore forty prisoners they had captured during the Civil War. The sudden arrival of all those extra mouths made life difficult for the islanders, the corsairs not having left any provisions, however, the colony slowly began to flourish and its population continued to increase. Nowadays, Lord Griell, the present governor, has more than a hundred subjects.”
“He’s king of a tiny nation.”
“Yes, a kingdom he holds dear. Not long ago he received a visit from a British Admiral of the Far Eastern Fleet with greetings from the Queen of England and an offer to make the island a protectorate.”
“I imagine the admiral received quite a reception!”
“On the contrary, Dr. Held. It was the admiral who bestowed the honours, presenting Lord Griell with a British flag and numerous other gifts. The entire colony was then treated to a sumptuous banquet; the islanders still cherish the memory.”
“I’d love to see that tiny kingdom. Let’s hope we get a good reception,” the doctor said.
“I doubt it,” replied Yanez. “Those islanders won’t be happy to surrender their coal; they use most of it themselves. Bah, such is war. The site of our carbines should put a quick end to their protests.”
Chapter 8
The Island of Mangalum
WAVES LASHED AGAINST the King of the Sea throughout the night as she raced across the Sunda Sea. The wind grew stronger with each passing hour; but still she did not yield, her powerful engines driving her forward despite the weight of her armoured turrets and heavy artillery.
By the next day the weather had become menacing. Waves attacked in greater number, roaring darkly as they thundered against the ship’s ram. Whipped up by the wind, sheets of water raced across the ocean, swirling in confusion as they were thrust against the King of the Sea’s masts and turrets.
Enormous rain clouds blanketed the sky, their thick dark mass blotting out the sun.
Unconcerned by the approaching storm, seabirds played among the waves, bobbing upon the swells, filling the air with deafening cries as they were carried off towards the horizon. Flocks of petrels, gannets and frigate birds wheeled aloft; albatrosses swooped along the water’s surface, then turned into the wind and soared back up to the heavens.
The King of the Sea held her own against the hurricane, smashing through the waves that attacked her bow and howled at her sides. Sandokan and Yanez had ordered Mister Howard to increase speed, hoping to reach Mangalum before the storm grew worse and made docking more dangerous.
Come evening, the storm was in full force, but they had yet to spot the island. Caution dictated they remain far from shore to avoid crashing the ship against a rock.
“Best we ride out the storm on open water,” said Sandokan. “We have enough fuel to last a couple more days.”
The King of the Sea pointed her bow westward where the waters were safer, there being no reefs and sandbanks.
The hurricane had grown more violent. Mountainous waves swelled up to new heights, blocking the cruiser’s advance and threatening to drag her off course.
All were on deck, even Darma and Sir Moreland.
“A terrible storm, Miss,” Sir Moreland said to Darma, the two having taken shelter between the aft turret and the cofferdam wall. “Your ship will have to work hard to get through this.”
“Are we in danger of sinking?” asked the young woman, without the slightest trace of apprehension in her voice.
“No, at least not for the moment. The King of the Sea is a sturdy ship.”
“Those waves are enormous.”
“And they can get even larger, Miss. Perhaps you should go below, put yourself out of danger.”
“If the others can brave the storm, why shouldn’t I?”
“They’re all able seamen. Go below, Miss. Once we’ve tacked, the waves will start to sweep the stern; it may not be safe here, not even in the turret.”
“Just a few more minutes. What a storm! It’s magnificent, isn’t it? I’ve never seen its equal! Look, Sir Moreland, what waves! Such power! Such fury!”
“Careful, Miss, they’ve started to attack the stern. Look there.”
Pitching wildly, her propellers often thrust up from the water, the King of the Sea struggled to hold her course. She plunged into troughs, climbed up foaming swells, at times listing so severely her crew feared she would capsize. The sea attacked relentlessly, sweeping her decks, crashing against her turrets, hurling the men against the bulwarks.
Sandokan and Yanez seemed almost amused by the hurricane’s furies. Standing on the bridge, hands firm on the baluster, they calmly issued their orders.
They had too much faith in their ship to give victory to doubt and had taken every precaution. They had doubled the helmsmen, engineers and stokers; the launches had been covered, the artillery had been secured and the hatches and portholes had all been sealed tightly so that not even a drop of water could penetrate the cruiser.
The King of the Sea battled throughout the night, never straying far from Mangalum. It was not until noon the next day that the storm began to subside and she was finally able to resume her course.
The skies were still menacing, the dark clouds indicating that another storm was sure to follow.
“We’ve got to hurry and take advantage of the fair weather,” said Sandokan to Yanez and Tremal-Naik. “The coal chutes are almost empty and I wouldn’t want to risk facing another hurricane without our engines.”
They were not far from the island, for despite the storm, the King of the Sea had not strayed much from her course.
Towards ten, the clouds had dispersed and a mountain finally appeared on the horizon.
“Mangalum?” Tremal-
Naik asked Yanez, who was scanning the shores with his binoculars.
“Yes,” replied the Portuguese. “It won’t be long before we make some new enemies.”
The King of the Sea increased her speed, consuming her last few tons of coal.
The mountain grew larger with each passing minute. Its summit was covered by thick green vegetation and a port could be seen in a large inlet at its base.
“We’ll be there within two hours,” said Yanez.
The Portuguese had not been mistaken. It was not yet midday when the King of the Sea arrived before the tiny roadstead; several small groups of huts and a few ships in dry dock lined the beach.
“Sound out!” shouted Sandokan. “We may be able to take her in close to shore.”
Sambigliong and several sailors grabbed sounding lines and went to the bow to execute the order, as the King of the Sea began to reduce speed.
At the sight of that large ship, the inhabitants, most of them Europeans, had rushed out of their huts and, believing her to be British, ran the Union Jack up the signal pole, the precious gift given them by the Admiral of the Far Eastern Fleet.
There were about fifty people in all, men, women and children, the youngest playing happily among the brown seaweed that covered the shores of the small bay. All eyes were on the ship, hoping, perhaps, that this unexpected visit would result in another sumptuous banquet.
The waves still being strong, Sandokan ordered the helmsmen to keep the King of the Sea away from the shore, then had the steam launch and the two largest whalers lowered into the water.
“I’ve spotted the coal,” he said to Yanez.
“And I spotted a few animals feeding in their pens,” replied the Portuguese.
“Then this trip won’t have been in vain,” concluded the Tiger of Malaysia. “They won’t put up much of a fight.”
Thirty Malays, armed with rifles and kampilans, had already descended into the launch.
Since the waves were still rough, the King of the Sea was turned abeam then several barrels of oil were dumped over the side to still the waters between the ship and the island.
Sandokan: The King of the Sea (The Sandokan Series Book 5) Page 20