Sandokan: The King of the Sea (The Sandokan Series Book 5)

by Emilio Salgari

  Sandokan and Yanez grew more worried with each passing day. They could feel their enemy drawing nearer; it was only a matter of time before the ring of steel tightened about the last Tigers of Mompracem.

  Tremal-Naik and Kammamuri often found them in a state of weary contemplation. Sometimes they would just stare at Darma and Surama and shake their heads sadly, as if regretting having taken them aboard.

  “My friends,” said Yanez one day, coming up beside the two young women as they were watching the sun disappear beneath the waves, “are you afraid to die?”

  “Why such a question, Señor Yanez?” Darma asked with a sad smile.

  “Our last hour may be at hand.”

  “We made the choice to stand by you long ago,” replied the young woman.

  “I won’t leave my white sahib,” said Surama, giving the Portuguese a tender smile.

  “Sandokan and I wish to spare you from the death awaiting us. We’re heading towards Malacca and we’ll gladly burn through our last bit of coal to land you on those shores.”

  Darma and Surama shook their heads.

  “No,” the former said bluntly. “Whatever happens, I won’t abandon my father or you.”

  “And I won’t leave you either, my white sahib; I owe you my freedom and my life,” added Surama.

  “Think it over, Darma; one day you could wed a bold young man who loves and respects you immensely.”

  “Sir Moreland will have forgotten me by now,” sighed the young woman.

  “The allied fleet could come upon us at any moment. You’re both young, your life is still ahead of you; you don’t have to die here.”

  “No, Señor Yanez,” Darma said firmly. “We won’t abandon you, will we, Surama?”

  “I’d gladly die at the side of my white sahib,” the Indian woman replied.

  Yanez caressed her long black hair, then said:

  “Bah! Who knows! It isn’t over yet.”

  Chapter 16

  Suyodhana’s Son

  HER FUEL DWINDLING, defeat loomed over the mighty King of the Sea. There would be no more ships to plunder, that much was almost certain, and once the last few tons of coal had disappeared into her boilers, the Tigers of Mompracem would be forced to make their final stand.

  After a quick consultation, Sandokan, Yanez, Tremal-Naik and Mister Howard decided to set off for the island of Gaya, where the Tiger’s prahus had been sent to await the end of the war. Once there, they would send a few ships to Brunei to purchase several tons of coal. Disguised as merchant vessels, it would be easy for them to buy fuel. If, while awaiting the ships’ return, the King of the Sea was discovered by her enemies, she would be aided by that tiny fleet.

  But could they reach the island, more than four hundred miles away, before the allied squadron fell upon them? Those ships must have long since left the Bay of Sarawak, and could easily surround the King of the Sea and force her into battle. Her engines dying, the great ship would have no other option but to fight.

  For the moment they were not in danger, having learned that morning from a jong sailing up from the south that the waters were clear from Labuan to Brunei.

  After that brief encounter, the King of the Sea had immediately headed northeast, her new course taking her far from Mompracem and past the great Vernon and Samarang sandbanks.

  To save coal only half the boilers were employed and the cruiser advanced at a reduced speed of six knots.

  Sandokan’s mood had darkened; he spent long hours on the gangway, anxiously studying the horizon, his worries increasing with each passing hour. Gone was the calm impassiveness of earlier times, when, sure of his ship and artillery, he laughed at danger and faced it with a smile on his lips.

  He visited the almost empty chutes several times a day or halted in front of the boilers, staring at those gaping mouths that seemed to yearn for sustenance, his heart tightening at each shovelful of coal tossed into the dying flames.

  He would return to the deck with a darkened brow, sullen and taciturn, then go off to pace between the turrets, his arms crossed and his eyes to the ground, walking back and forth in silence.

  Bad news was not long in coming. The King of the Sea was only two hundred and thirty miles from the west coast of Borneo, when her crew received word of approaching danger from a small prahu sailing up from the south.

  “There are British cruisers to the southwest.”

  “How many?”

  “Two.”

  “When did you see them?”

  “Last night.”

  They had to flee. Those two ships had to be the vanguard of some squadron that could arrive at any moment.

  “We’ll consume whatever coal we have left,” Sandokan told Yanez.

  “And then?”

  “We’ll fight our last battle.”

  The King of the Sea immediately increased her speed. She flew over the waters at twelve knots, sacrificing her last tons of fuel in hope of finding a merchant ship to pillage of coal before the squadron appeared on the horizon.

  The lookouts had been doubled. The men with the sharpest eyes were stationed in the crow’s nest.

  Meanwhile Sandokan had given the order to prepare for battle; a battle that each man knew would likely be their last.

  The ship went another hundred and forty miles then her speed began to drop as the last shovelfuls of coal disappeared into her boilers.

  The end was drawing near, yet the crew remained calm, all those aboard having known from the outset that they would ultimately sacrifice their lives. No one feared the death awaiting them, their eyes impassively scanning the waters that would soon become their grave.

  If those brave Tigers had but one regret, it was dying far from the shores of their beloved Mompracem.

  At eight that evening the King of the Sea came to a halt a short distance from the large Vernon lagoon. The engine’s insatiable boilers had devoured everything that could burn. Barrels of tar, crates soaked in alcohol, cooking oil, cabin furniture, even the crews’ hammocks had been cast into the boilers to feed the flames.

  Had it been possible, those men would have stripped the ship of her armour if burning it would have enabled them to reach the still distant coasts of Borneo.

  As the ship drew to a halt, Sandokan slowly headed towards the stern and leaned against the bulwark.

  Sullen faced, he smoked his pipe in silence, eyes fixed on the darkening horizon. Yanez soon walked to his side, and the two stood there quietly, without exchanging a single word.

  They could feel their foes drawing nearer, the danger in the air almost palpable.

  The waters darkened as night fell over the sea, and soon the first stars began to appear, their soft light piercing through small rifts in the clouds.

  A deep silence reigned over the ship now that the engines had come to a halt. The crew, all two hundred and fifty men, had gathered on the deck, along the bulwarks and in the turrets. No one spoke.

  Towards midnight Tremal-Naik drew near Sandokan, who in all that time had not moved.

  “My friend,” he said, “what more can we do?”

  “Prepare to die,” the Tiger of Malaysia said calmly.

  “I’m ready, what about the women?”

  Instead of replying, Sandokan stretched out his right hand towards the west, and said:

  “There. See?”

  “What, Sandokan?”

  “The enemy approaches.”

  “So soon!” the Bengali murmured, unable to suppress a shudder.

  “They have us in their sights and they’re racing towards us like jackals, anxious to destroy the last Tigers of Mompracem.”

  Tremal-Naik’s eyes followed Sandokan’s arm as the lookouts on the platform shouted:

  “Ships to stern!”

  Several bright specks were sparkling on the horizon, quickly growing larger as they drew nearer.

  “Are our men ready?” asked Sandokan.

  “Yes,” replied Yanez, standing by his side.

  “And th
e women?” he asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

  “They’re as calm as we are.”

  “I want them safe.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Put them in a launch and have them row off before those ships are upon us.”

  “They’ll refuse; they’ve sworn to go down with us.”

  “There’s nothing but death here!”

  “And they’ve accepted it.”

  “Get them off this ship, Yanez.”

  “I repeat, they’ll refuse; don’t insist.”

  “Well, so be it! If they must die, they will not fall unavenged! To me, Tigers of Mompracem!”

  The enemy ships were approaching at full steam, fanning out in a large semicircle. Once they were within range, they would open fire and tighten the ring, using their heavy artillery to shield their advance.

  Sandokan and Yanez, at their best in moments of greatest danger, coolly issued their final orders then went up to the gangway.

  The Tiger’s red flag was hoisted up the mast.

  Seconds later four searchlights shone upon the cruiser, illuminating her from bow to stern.

  “Yes, take a good look,” said Sandokan.

  Four large steamships, undoubtedly the mightiest in the allied fleet, had silently drawn away from the other ships and fanned out about the King of the Sea, their large guns silent, yet trained and ready.

  Dawn was not far off, and knowing that Sandokan would refuse to surrender, they were waiting for first light to commence the inevitable attack.

  Darma had silently approached the stern bulwark. She was extremely pale, but calm, as was every member of the crew. Her eyes quickly scanned each vessel, hoping perhaps to catch a glimpse of Sir Moreland.

  She could sense her beloved was nearby, on one of those very ships that would soon open fire and bring an end to the King of the Sea.

  One by one the searchlights were extinguished and the allied ships began to circle the cruiser, slowly tightening the ring with each pass, their red position lanterns shining menacingly in the darkness. Still too distant to open fire, but assured the Tigers of Mompracem could not escape, the enemy unhurriedly drew into position.

  Sandokan and Yanez had watched them advance from the gangway and towards two that morning they went down to the deck and made their way towards the centre of the ship, unconcerned by the thought of approaching battle.

  They came up beside Tremal-Naik, who was leaning against the capstan, his eyes fixed on his daughter as she paced nervously about the forecastle.

  “My friend,” Sandokan said sadly. “In a few hours, the last Tigers of Mompracem will go to their graves.”

  Tremal-Naik shivered and quickly raised his head.

  “Do you recognize those cruisers?” he asked.

  “The same four ships that tried to capture us in the Bay of Sarawak.”

  “And you think they can sink the King of the Sea?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “So am I,” said Yanez. “They’re well armed. Had there been only two of them we may have stood a chance, but against four...”

  “And we can’t move,” added Sandokan.

  “Then we’re out of options?” asked the Bengali.

  “One remains. I propose you go to one of those ships and surrender, take your daughter and Surama with you.”

  Surprised, Tremal-Naik immediately drew up to his full height.

  “Abandon you!” he exclaimed, a trace of pain in his voice. “After all you’ve done for us? Never! We owe you our very lives! Darma and I will fight alongside the Tigers of Mompracem until the end.”

  “Your daughter loves and is loved by a man who could make her happy,” said Sandokan.

  “I’m aware of it,” said Tremal-Naik. “Does Darma know how serious our situation is?”

  “Yes,” replied Yanez.

  “What did she say?”

  “That she will not leave the ship.”

  “As I knew she would,” the Bengali said proudly. “If Fate has marked our end, then we’ll meet it without fear.”

  They shook hands and then all three set off towards the bridge. Suddenly Yanez exclaimed:

  “What a fool I am! To think I’d almost forgotten him.”

  “Who?” asked Sandokan and Tremal-Naik in unison.

  “The Lord of War.”

  A faint glimmer of hope flashed through the Portuguese’s mind as he suddenly remembered Dr. O’Brien’s invention. If the man’s claims were true... Telling the others to wait, he raced below deck and ran through the corridor, stopping only when he reached the little man’s cabin.

  “Awaken the prisoner,” he ordered the Malay guard.

  “He’s already up, Señor Yanez.”

  Yanez opened the door and entered. Dr. O’Brien was sitting at a table strewn with papers, absorbed in an intricate calculation.

  “Señor de Gomera?” said the doctor adjusting his glasses. “What brings you here? It’s been a few days since I last saw you.”

  “Doctor,” said the Portuguese, immediately coming to the point, “we’re out of fuel, surrounded by enemy ships and on the verge of being sunk.”

  “Ah!” the American said calmly.

  “You claim to have invented an incredible weapon.”

  “A claim I still uphold.”

  “The time has come to give us a demonstration, Mr. Lord of War.”

  “Have my crates brought up on deck.”

  “You’re not going to blow up our ship, are you?” asked Yanez, a trace of unease in his voice.

  “I’d be blown up as well and I assure you I have no desire to die,” the doctor replied. “Quickly, Señor de Gomera, best make our preparations before they open fire.”

  They went up to the deck, several crewmen following with the doctor’s crates.

  “Our enemies have found us,” said Sandokan, approaching the scientist.

  “Yes, and it seems they have us surrounded,” replied Dr. O’Brien with a frown. “That’s the one I’ll blow up first.”

  A small cruiser had detached itself from the squadron and had begun to circle the King of the Sea, maintaining a careful distance of two or three thousand metres. Was she a scout ship or a decoy meant to draw the fire of the pirates of Mompracem?

  Dr. O’Brien opened his crates. They contained a number of strange electronic machines the likes of which Sandokan and Yanez had never seen.

  He examined everything carefully, calmly and unhurriedly, then turning towards Yanez who was watching over him with his hand on the butt of his pistol said:

  “Ready whenever you are.”

  “You may begin.”

  “When the ship passes our starboard side, she’ll blow up,” the doctor said coldly.

  A shiver went down the spines of the men surrounding the American. Would that little man be able to pull off such a miracle?

  “Get back,” shouted Dr. O’Brien.

  He had barely uttered those words when a blinding light tore through the darkness, followed by a frightening roar.

  An immense column of water shot up into the air, then a storm of wreckage rained down upon the waves as the last cry of a hundred souls faded into the night.

  Destroyed by her own powder stores, the small cruiser was sinking quickly, water storming in through the large hole in her side.

  Almost simultaneously, a grenade exploded on the deck of the King of the Sea between Dr. O’Brien and his machine. The American had let out a cry and fell almost at Yanez’ feet, who had miraculously escaped that rain of metal.

  “Doctor!” the Portuguese shouted, rushing towards him.

  “I… I…” the poor inventor murmured, his arms shaking desperately.

  His hands went to his chest, trying to stem the blood gushing from a deep wound.

  Sandokan rushed toward the crates, stopped, and let out a cry of desperation.

  The grenade had destroyed the doctor’s machine and blasted the batteries into tiny pieces.

  Yanez gently ra
ised the American’s head.

  “Dr. O’Brien,” he said, stifling a sob.

  The dying man opened his eyes and fixed them on the Portuguese.

  “It… worked… it… worked,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He raised his bloodied right hand from his chest, clasped Yanez’ palm, and closed his eyes.

  “Dead,” said Yanez sadly.

  “The first of many I’m afraid,” replied Sandokan.

  Yanez laid the poor inventor on the deck and covered him with a tarp that lay nearby.

  “It’s over,” he said, as he drew himself up, “this will be the Tigers of Mompracem’s last stand. Tremal-Naik, Darma, Surama, to the turret. Men, ready your weapons!”

  “Battle stations!” Sandokan shouted. “If we must die, we’ll die like warriors.”

  Dawn had begun to break, its soft pink light quickly chasing away the darkness and dying the waters with a million shades of gold. Still unable to use her engines, the King of the Sea was drifting, a gentle current carrying her almost imperceptibly towards the Vernon sandbank.

  A warning shot thundered from the nearest cruiser, the largest of the four, inviting them to surrender.

  Sandokan immediately had his men raise a red banner to signal he intended to fight.

  Instead of opening fire, the enemy cruiser signalled with her flags.

  “Send over the two young women,” read Sandokan, “Sir Moreland will ensure their safety.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed Yanez. “So we’re dealing with the captain after all. We’ll sink his ship a second time. Darma, Surama!”

  The two young women left the turret.

  “He offers you safety aboard his ship,” said Sandokan. “Do you accept? We’ll have a launch prepared immediately.”

  “Never!” the two replied emphatically.

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’ve made our choice,” said Darma. “We’ll stay with you until the end.”

  “So be it, inform the captain his offer has been declined,” ordered Yanez.

  An American quartermaster immediately signalled their reply. A moment later a black flag was hoisted up each of the four cruisers’ mainmasts. As they caught the wind, their golden emblems sparkled in the light: ancient Sanskrit letters encircling a Naga, a snake woman with a coiled serpentine body.