The Rescue (20 page)

One morning—four days ago—I went to see Tengga. I found him by the
shore trimming a plank with a small hatchet while a slave held an
umbrella over his head. He is amusing himself in building a boat just
now. He threw his hatchet down to meet me and led me by the hand to
a shady spot. He told me frankly he had sent out two good swimmers to
observe the stranded vessel. These men stole down the creek in a canoe
and when on the sea coast swam from sandbank to sandbank until they
approached unobserved—I think—to about fifty yards from that schooner
What can that craft be? I can't make it out. The men reported there
were three chiefs on board. One with a glittering eye, one a lean man
in white, and another without any hair on the face and dressed in a
different style. Could it be a woman? I don't know what to think. I wish
you were here. After a lot of chatter Tengga said: "Six years ago I was
ruler of a country and the Dutch drove me out. The country was small but
nothing is too small for them to take. They pretended to give it back
to my nephew—may he burn! I ran away or they would have killed me. I am
nothing here—but I remember. These white people out there can not run
away and they are very few. There is perhaps a little to loot. I would
give it to my men who followed me in my calamity because I am their
chief and my father was the chief of their fathers." I pointed out the
imprudence of this. He said: "The dead do not show the way." To this I
remarked that the ignorant do not give information. Tengga kept quiet
for a while, then said: "We must not touch them because their skin is
like yours and to kill them would be wrong, but at the bidding of you
whites we may go and fight with people of our own skin and our own
faith—and that is good. I have promised to Tuan Lingard twenty men and
a prau to make war in Wajo. The men are good and look at the prau; it
is swift and strong." I must say, Tom, the prau is the best craft of
the kind I have ever seen. I said you paid him well for the help. "And
I also would pay," says he, "if you let me have a few guns and a little
powder for my men. You and I shall share the loot of that ship outside,
and Tuan Lingard will not know. It is only a little game. You have
plenty of guns and powder under your care." He meant in the Emma. On
that I spoke out pretty straight and we got rather warm until at last
he gave me to understand that as he had about forty followers of his own
and I had only nine of Hassim's chaps to defend the Emma with, he could
very well go for me and get the lot. "And then," says he, "I would be so
strong that everybody would be on my side." I discovered in the course
of further talk that there is a notion amongst many people that you have
come to grief in some way and won't show up here any more. After this
I saw the position was serious and I was in a hurry to get back to the
Emma, but pretending I did not care I smiled and thanked Tengga for
giving me warning of his intentions about me and the Emma. At this he
nearly choked himself with his betel quid and fixing me with his little
eyes, muttered: "Even a lizard will give a fly the time to say its
prayers." I turned my back on him and was very thankful to get beyond
the throw of a spear. I haven't been out of the Emma since.

The letter went on to enlarge on the intrigues of Tengga, the wavering
conduct of Belarab, and the state of the public mind. It noted every
gust of opinion and every event, with an earnestness of belief in their
importance befitting the chronicle of a crisis in the history of an
empire. The shade of Jorgenson had, indeed, stepped back into the life
of men. The old adventurer looked on with a perfect understanding of
the value of trifles, using his eyes for that other man whose conscience
would have the task to unravel the tangle. Lingard lived through those
days in the Settlement and was thankful to Jorgenson; only as he lived
not from day to day but from sentence to sentence of the writing, there
was an effect of bewildering rapidity in the succession of events that
made him grunt with surprise sometimes or growl—"What?" to himself
angrily and turn back several lines or a whole page more than once.
Toward the end he had a heavy frown of perplexity and fidgeted as he
read:

—and I began to think I could keep things quiet till you came or those
wretched white people got their schooner off, when Sherif Daman arrived
from the north on the very day he was expected, with two Illanun praus.
He looks like an Arab. It was very evident to me he can wind the two
Illanun pangerans round his little finger. The two praus are large and
armed. They came up the creek, flags and streamers flying, beating drums
and gongs, and entered the lagoon with their decks full of armed men
brandishing two-handed swords and sounding the war cry. It is a fine
force for you, only Belarab who is a perverse devil would not receive
Sherif Daman at once. So Daman went to see Tengga who detained him a
very long time. Leaving Tengga he came on board the Emma, and I could
see directly there was something up.

He began by asking me for the ammunition and weapons they are to get
from you, saying he was anxious to sail at once toward Wajo, since it
was agreed he was to precede you by a few days. I replied that that
was true enough but that I could not think of giving him the powder
and muskets till you came. He began to talk about you and hinted that
perhaps you will never come. "And no matter," says he, "here is Rajah
Hassim and the Lady Immada and we would fight for them if no white man
was left in the world. Only we must have something to fight with." He
pretended then to forget me altogether and talked with Hassim while I
sat listening. He began to boast how well he got along the Bruni coast.
No Illanun prau had passed down that coast for years.

Immada wanted me to give the arms he was asking for. The girl is beside
herself with fear of something happening that would put a stopper on
the Wajo expedition. She has set her mind on getting her country back.
Hassim is very reserved but he is very anxious, too. Daman got nothing
from me, and that very evening the praus were ordered by Belarab to
leave the lagoon. He does not trust the Illanuns—and small blame to
him. Sherif Daman went like a lamb. He has no powder for his guns. As
the praus passed by the Emma he shouted to me he was going to wait for
you outside the creek. Tengga has given him a man who would show him the
place. All this looks very queer to me.

Look out outside then. The praus are dodging amongst the islets. Daman
visits Tengga. Tengga called on me as a good friend to try and persuade
me to give Daman the arms and gunpowder he is so anxious to get. Somehow
or other they tried to get around Belarab, who came to see me last night
and hinted I had better do so. He is anxious for these Illanuns to leave
the neighbourhood. He thinks that if they loot the schooner they will be
off at once. That's all he wants now. Immada has been to see Belarab's
women and stopped two nights in the stockade. Belarab's youngest
wife—he got married six weeks ago—is on the side of Tengga's party
because she thinks Belarab would get a share of the loot and she got
into her silly head there are jewels and silks in that schooner. What
between Tengga worrying him outside and the women worrying him at home,
Belarab had such a lively time of it that he concluded he would go to
pray at his father's tomb. So for the last two days he has been away
camping in that unhealthy place. When he comes back he will be down with
fever as sure as fate and then he will be no good for anything. Tengga
lights up smoky fires often. Some signal to Daman. I go ashore with
Hassim's men and put them out. This is risking a fight every time—for
Tengga's men look very black at us. I don't know what the next move may
be. Hassim's as true as steel. Immada is very unhappy. They will tell
you many details I have no time to write.

The last page fluttered on the table out of Lingard's fingers. He sat
very still for a moment looking straight before him, then went on deck.

"Our boats back yet?" he asked Shaw, whom he saw prowling on the
quarter-deck.

"No, sir, I wish they were. I am waiting for them to go and turn in,"
answered the mate in an aggrieved manner.

"Lower that lantern forward there," cried Lingard, suddenly, in Malay.

"This trade isn't fit for a decent man," muttered Shaw to himself, and
he moved away to lean on the rail, looking moodily to seaward. After a
while: "There seems to be commotion on board that yacht," he said.
"I see a lot of lights moving about her decks. Anything wrong, do you
think, sir?"

"No, I know what it is," said Lingard in a tone of elation. She has done
it! he thought.

He returned to the cabin, put away Jorgenson's letter and pulled out the
drawer of the table. It was full of cartridges. He took a musket down,
loaded it, then took another and another. He hammered at the waddings
with fierce joyousness. The ramrods rang and jumped. It seemed to him
he was doing his share of some work in which that woman was playing her
part faithfully. "She has done it," he repeated, mentally. "She will sit
in the cuddy. She will sleep in my berth. Well, I'm not ashamed of the
brig. By heavens—no! I shall keep away: never come near them as I've
promised. Now there's nothing more to say. I've told her everything at
once. There's nothing more."

He felt a heaviness in his burning breast, in all his limbs as if the
blood in his veins had become molten lead.

"I shall get the yacht off. Three, four days—no, a week."

He found he couldn't do it under a week. It occurred to him he would see
her every day till the yacht was afloat. No, he wouldn't intrude, but he
was master and owner of the brig after all. He didn't mean to skulk like
a whipped cur about his own decks.

"It'll be ten days before the schooner is ready. I'll take every scrap
of ballast out of her. I'll strip her—I'll take her lower masts out
of her, by heavens! I'll make sure. Then another week to fit
out—and—goodbye. Wish I had never seen them. Good-bye—forever. Home's
the place for them. Not for me. On another coast she would not have
listened. Ah, but she is a woman—every inch of her. I shall shake
hands. Yes. I shall take her hand—just before she goes. Why the devil
not? I am master here after all—in this brig—as good as any one—by
heavens, better than any one—better than any one on earth."

He heard Shaw walk smartly forward above his head hailing:

"What's that—a boat?"

A voice answered indistinctly.

"One of my boats is back," thought Lingard. "News about Daman perhaps.
I don't care if he kicks. I wish he would. I would soon show her I can
fight as well as I can handle the brig. Two praus. Only two praus. I
wouldn't mind if there were twenty. I would sweep 'em off the sea—I
would blow 'em out of the water—I would make the brig walk over them.
'Now,' I'd say to her, 'you who are not afraid, look how it's done!'"

He felt light. He had the sensation of being whirled high in the midst
of an uproar and as powerless as a feather in a hurricane. He shuddered
profoundly. His arms hung down, and he stood before the table staring
like a man overcome by some fatal intelligence.

Shaw, going into the waist to receive what he thought was one of the
brig's boats, came against Carter making his way aft hurriedly.

"Hullo! Is it you again?" he said, swiftly, barring the way.

"I come from the yacht," began Carter with some impatience.

"Where else could you come from?" said Shaw. "And what might you want
now?"

"I want to see your skipper."

"Well, you can't," declared Shaw, viciously. "He's turned in for the
night."

"He expects me," said Carter, stamping his foot. "I've got to tell him
what happened."

"Don't you fret yourself, young man," said Shaw in a superior manner;
"he knows all about it."

They stood suddenly silent in the dark. Carter seemed at a loss what to
do. Shaw, though surprised by it, enjoyed the effect he had produced.

"Damn me, if I did not think so," murmured Carter to himself; then
drawling coolly asked—"And perhaps you know, too?"

"What do you think? Think I am a dummy here? I ain't mate of this brig
for nothing."

"No, you are not," said Carter with a certain bitterness of tone.
"People do all kinds of queer things for a living, and I am not
particular myself, but I would think twice before taking your billet."

"What? What do you in-si-nu-ate. My billet? You ain't fit for it, you
yacht-swabbing brass-buttoned imposter."

"What's this? Any of our boats back?" asked Lingard from the poop. "Let
the seacannie in charge come to me at once."

"There's only a message from the yacht," began Shaw, deliberately.

"Yacht! Get the deck lamps along here in the waist! See the ladder
lowered. Bear a hand, serang! Mr. Shaw! Burn the flare up aft. Two of
them! Give light to the yacht's boats that will be coming alongside.
Steward! Where's that steward? Turn him out then."

Bare feet began to patter all round Carter. Shadows glided swiftly.

"Are these flares coming? Where's the quartermaster on duty?" shouted
Lingard in English and Malay. "This way, come here! Put it on a rocket
stick—can't you? Hold over the side—thus! Stand by with the lines for
the boats forward there. Mr. Shaw—we want more light!"

"Aye, aye, sir," called out Shaw, but he did not move, as if dazed by
the vehemence of his commander.

"That's what we want," muttered Carter under his breath. "Imposter! What
do you call yourself?" he said half aloud to Shaw.

The ruddy glare of the flares disclosed Lingard from head to foot,
standing at the break of the poop. His head was bare, his face, crudely
lighted, had a fierce and changing expression in the sway of flames.

"What can be his game?" thought Carter, impressed by the powerful
and wild aspect of that figure. "He's changed somehow since I saw him
first," he reflected. It struck him the change was serious, not exactly
for the worse, perhaps—and yet. . . . Lingard smiled at him from the
poop.