Trapped by Malays | Page 8

George Manville Fenn
quietly received, and quietly replied to in a few well-spoken words by the young Prince, not without eliciting some remarks at his mastery of English; and soon after the party broke up in smoke, the officers strolling down to the banks of the river, where the landing-place was gay with Chinese lanterns hung here and there and ornamenting the two nagas of the Rajahs lying some distance apart and filled by the well-armed followers of the chiefs, one of whom was heartily cheered by those assembled as he slowly walked in company with his French companion to take his seat, before, in response to three or four sonorous notes from a gong, the yellow-uniformed rowers dipped their oars lightly, to keep the dragon-boat in mid-stream so that it might be borne swiftly onward.
The young Rajah Hamet remained some few minutes longer, after taking his leave of the Major and officers, and then, accompanied by Captain Down and Archie, he walked slowly along to where a guard of the English infantry was drawn up, the chief's men being waiting in their places, ready to push off.
"Don't take this as a compliment," said the young Malay. "It is all sincere, and I can make you very welcome in good old English fashion as long as you like to stay--you, Captain Down, and you, Maine. You make the Captain come too. I promise you plenty of sport. My shikaris know their business. Once more, good-night."
He stepped back, the long, live-looking boat glided off, and the rowers' oars dipped with the vim and accuracy of an eight-oared racer on the Thames. But she made head slowly against the swift stream, while, as the young men watched her, their eyes rested upon the fire-flies glittering amongst the overhanging trees upon the banks, and all at once there was a loud splash just ahead of where the naga was gliding.
"What's that--some one overboard?" said the Captain.
"No, sir," said a deep British voice from just behind where the young officers stood; "only one of them great, scaly varmints getting out of the way."
"Oh, it's you, Sergeant," said Archie quickly; and then, on the impulse of the moment, the lad laid his hand on the big non-com's arm and said hurriedly, "I've had it out with the Major, Ripsy, and it's all right now. But it was all my fault. Don't be too hard on poor Pegg."
The Sergeant's reply was checked by a question from the Captain:
"Whom was the Doctor fetched to see? Any one ill?"
The Sergeant chuckled.
"No, sir. It was them rival niggers beginning to cut one another's throats; but I stopped it with my lads, and then fetched the Doctor. It gave him three or four little jobs. Some on them mean a row."
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE DOCTOR'S PATIENTS.
The looking-glass in Archie Maine's quarters often told him that he was rather a good-looking young fellow; that is to say, he gave promise of growing into a well-featured, manly youth without any foppish, effeminate, so-called handsomeness. But nature had been very kind to him, and, honestly, he scarcely knew anything about his own appearance; for when he looked in his glass for reasons connected with cleanliness-- putting his hair straight, smoothing over his curliness, and playing at shaving away, or, rather, scraping off, some very smooth down--he had a habit of contracting his nerves and muscles so that a pretty good display of wrinkles came into view all over his forehead and at the corners of his lips and eyes, presenting to him quite a different-looking sort of fellow from the one known to his friends.
The morning after the mess dinner, he had given a parting glance in his little mirror, looking very much screwed-up, for his mind was busy with rather troublous thoughts, among which were the events of the past day, especially those connected with his interview with the Major.
Then he had hurried off to take advantage of what little time he had before going on duty, and made for the Doctor's bungalow. It was not much of a place; but the glorious tropic foliage, the distant view of the river, and, above all, the flowers of the most brilliant colours that were always rushing into bloom or tumbling off to deck the ground made it a brilliant spot in the station, and as he neared it his face smoothed, his sun-browned forehead lost its wrinkles, and, just as he expected, he caught sight of the two reasons for the bungalow looking so bright and gay.
One reason was the Doctor's wife busy in the garden with a basket and a pair of scissors, snipping off bunch and cluster ready for filling vase and basin in the shaded rooms; the other was standing upon a chair helping climber to twine and tendril to catch hold of trellis and
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