Cord and Creese Page 9

  CHAPTER IX

  THE MALAY PIRATE

  Two days had passed since Brandon's rescue. The light wind which hadbrought up the _Falcon_ soon died out, and before the island had beenleft far behind a calm succeeded, and there was nothing left but todrift.

  A calm in other seas is stillness; here on the Indian Ocean it isstagnation. The calmness is like Egyptian darkness. It may be felt. Thestagnation of the waters seems deep enough to destroy all life there.The air is thick, oppressive, feverish; there is not a breath or amurmur of wind; even the swell of ocean, which is never-ending, hereapproaches as near as possible to an end. The ocean rolled but slightly,but the light undulations gave a lazy, listless motion to the ship, thespan creaked monotonously, and the great sails napped idly in the air.

  At such a time the calm itself is sufficiently dreary, but now therewas something which made all things still more drear. For the calm wasattended by a thick fog; not a moist, drizzling fog like those of theNorth Atlantic, but a sultry, dense, dry fog; a fog which gave greateremphasis to the heat, and, instead of alleviating it, made it moreoppressive.

  It was so thick that it was not possible while standing at the wheel tosee the forecastle. Aloft, all the heavens were hidden in a canopy ofsickly gray; beneath, the sea showed the same color. Its glassy surfaceexhibited not a ripple. A small space only surrounded the vessel, andbeyond all things were lost to view.

  The sailors were scattered about the ship in groups. Some had ascendedto the tops with a faint hope of finding more air; some were lying flaton their faces on the forecastle; others had sought those places whichwere under the sails where the occasional flap of the broad canvas sentdown a slight current of air.

  The Captain was standing on the quarter-deck, while Brandon was seatedon a stool near the wheel. He had been treated by the Captain withunbounded hospitality, and supplied with every thing that he could wish.

  "The fact is," said the Captain, who had been conversing with Brandon,"I don't like calms any where, still less calms with fogs, and least ofall, calms off these infernal islands."

  "Why?"

  "Because to the north'ard is the Strait of Sunda, and the Malay piratesare always cruising about, often as far as this. Did you ever happen tohear of Zangorri?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, all I can say is, if you hadn't been wrecked, you'd have probablyhad your throat cut by that devil."

  "Can't any body catch him?"

  "They don't catch him at any rate. Whether they can or not is anotherquestion."

  "Have you arms?"

  "Yes. I've got enough to give Zangorri a pleasanter reception than heusually gets from a merchant-ship; and my lads are the boys that can usethem."

  "I wonder what has become of that other ship that passed me on theisland," said Brandon, after a pause.

  "She can't be very far away from us," replied the Captain, "and we maycome up with her before we get to the Cape."

  A silence followed. Suddenly the Captain's attention was arrested bysomething. He raised his hand to his ear and listened very attentively."Do you hear that?" he asked, quickly.

  Brandon arose and walked to where the Captain was. Then both listened.And over the sea there came unmistakable sounds. The regular movement ofoars! Oars out on the Indian Ocean! Yet the sound was unmistakable.

  "It must be some poor devils that have escaped from shipwreck," said theCaptain, half to himself.

  "Well, fire a gun."

  "No," said the Captain, cautiously, after a pause. "It may be somebodyelse. Wait a bit."

  So they waited a little while. Suddenly there came a cry of humanvoices--a volley of guns! Shrieks, yells of defiance, shouts of triumph,howls of rage or of pain, all softened by the distance, and all in theirunison sounding appallingly as they were borne through the gloom of thefog.

  Instantly every man in the ship bounded to his feet. They had not heardthe first sounds, but these they heard, and in that superstition whichis natural to the sailor, each man's first thought was that the noisescame from the sky, and so each looked with a stupefied countenance athis neighbor.

  But the Captain did not share the common feeling. "I knew it!" he cried."I expected it, and blow my old eyes out if I don't catch 'em thistime!"

  "What?" cried Brandon.

  But the Captain did not hear. Instantly his whole demeanor was changed.He sprang to the companion-way. He spoke but one word, not in a loudvoice, but in tones so stern, so startling, that every man in the shipheard the word:

  "Zangorri!"

  All knew what it meant. It meant that the most blood-thirsty pirate ofthese Eastern seas was attacking some ship behind that veil of fog.

  And what ship? This was the thought that came to Brandon. Could itby any possibility be the one which passed by him when he strove soearnestly to gain her attention!

  "Out with the long-boat! Load the carronade! Man the boat! Hurry up,lads, for God's sake!" And the Captain dashed down into the cabin. In aninstant he was back again, buckling on a belt with a couple of pistolsin it, and calling to his men, "Don't shout, don't cheer, but hurry, forGod's sake!"

  And the men rushed about, some collecting arms, others laboring at theboat. The _Falcon_ was well supplied with arms, as the Captain had said.Three guns, any quantity of smaller arms, and a long Tom, formed herarmament, while the long-boat had a carronade in her bows. Thanks to thesnug and orderly arrangement of the ship, every thing was soon ready.The long-boat was out and afloat. All the seamen except four were onboard, and the Captain went down last.

  "Now, pull away, lads!" he cried; "no talking," and he took the tillerropes. As he seated himself he looked toward the bows, and his eyesencountered the calm face of Brandon.

  "What! you here?" he cried, with unmistakable delight.

  Brandon's reply consisted simply in drawing a revolver from his pocket.

  "You're a brick!" said the Captain.

  Not another word was spoken. The Captain steered the boat towardthe direction from which the sounds came. These grew louder everymoment--more menacing, and more terrible.

  The sailors put all their strength to the oars, and drove the great boatthrough the water. To their impatience it seemed as though they wouldnever get there. Yet the place which they desired to reach was notfar away;--the sounds were now very near; and at length, as they droveonward, the tall sides of a ship burst on their sight through the gloom.By its side was a boat of the kind that is used by the Malays. On boardthe ship a large number of savage figures were rushing about in madferocity.

  In a moment the boat was seen. A shout rose from the Malays. A score ofthem clambered swiftly down the ship's side to their boat, and a panicseemed to seize all the rest, who stood looking around irresolutely forsome way of escape.

  The boatswain was in the bows of the long-boat and as the Malays crowdedinto their craft he took aim with the carronade and fired. The explosionthundered through the air. A terrific shriek followed. The next instantthe Malay boat, filled with writhing dusky figures, went down beneaththe waters.

  The long-boat immediately after touched the side of the ship. Brandongrasped a rope with his left hand, and, holding his revolver in hisright, leaped upward. A Malay with uplifted knife struck at him. Bang!went the revolver and the Malay fell dead. The next instant Brandon wason board, followed by all the sailors who sprang upward and clamberedinto the vessel before the Malays could rally from the first shock ofsurprise.

  But the panic was arrested by a man who bounded upon deck through thehatchway. Roused by the noise of the gun, he had hurried up and reachedthe deck just as the sailors arrived. In fierce, stern words he shoutedto his men, and the Malays gathered new courage from his words. Therewere about fifty of these, and not more than thirty English sailors; butthe former had carelessly dropped their arms about, and most of theirpieces were unloaded; the latter, therefore, had it all their own way.

  The first thing that they did was to pour a volley into the crowd ofMalays, as they stood trying to face their new e
nemy. The next momentthe sailors rushed upon them, some with cutlasses, some with pistols,and some with clubbed muskets.

  The Malays resisted desperately. Some fought with their creeses, otherssnatched up muskets and used them vigorously, others, unarmed, flungthemselves upon their assailants, biting and tearing like wild beasts.

  In the midst of the scene stood the chief, wielding a clubbed musket. Hewas a man of short stature, broad chest, and great muscular power. Threeor four of the sailors had already been knocked down beneath his blows.

  "Down with him," yelled the Captain. "It's Zangorri!"

  A venomous smile passed over the dark face of the Malay. Then he shoutedto his men and in an instant they rushed to the quarter-deck and tookup a position there. A few of them obtained some more muskets that layabout.

  The Captain shouted to his men, who were pursuing the Malays, to loadonce more. They did so, poured in a volley, and then rushed to thequarter-deck. Now a fiercer fight took place. The Captain with hispistol shot one man dead the next instant he was knocked down. Theboatswain was grappled by two powerful men. The rest of the sailors weredriving all before them.

  Meanwhile Brandon had been in the very centre of the fight. With hisrevolver in his left hand he held a cutlass in his right, and every blowthat he gave told. He had sought all through the struggle to reach thespot where Zangorri stood, but had hitherto been unsuccessful. At theretreat which the Malays made he hastily loaded three of the chambers ofhis revolver which he had emptied into the hearts of three Malays, andsprang upon the quarter-deck first. The man who struck down the Captainfell dead from Brandon's pistol, just as he stooped to plunge his knifeinto the heart of the prostrate man. Another shot sent over one of theboatswain's assailants, and the other assailant was kicked up into theair and overboard by the boatswain himself.

  After this Brandon had no more trouble to get at Zangorri, for the Malaychief with a howl of fury called on his men, and sprang at him. Twoquick flashes, two sharp reports, and down went two of them. Zangorrigrasped Brandon's hand, and raised his knife; the next instant Brandonhad shifted his pistol to his other hand; he fired. Zangorri's arm fellby his side, broken, and the knife rang on the ship's deck.

  Brandon bounded at his throat. He wound his arms around him, and with atremendous jerk hurled Zangorri to the deck, and held him there.

  A cry of terror and dismay arose from the Malays as they saw their chieffall. The sailors shouted; there was no further fighting: some of thepirates were killed, others leaped overboard and tried to swim away. Thesailors, in their fury, shot at these wretches as they swam. The crueltyof Zangorri had stimulated such a thirst for vengeance that none thoughtof giving quarter. Out of all the Malays the only one alive was Zangorrihimself, who now lay gasping with a mighty hand on his throat.

  At last, as his struggles grew feebler, Brandon relaxed his grasp. Someof the sailors came with uplifted knives to put an end to Zangorri.

  "Back," cried Brandon, fiercely. "Don't touch him. He's mine!"

  "He must die."

  "That's for me to say," cried Brandon in a stern voice that forbadereply. In fact, the sailors seemed to feel that he had the best claimhere, since he had not only captured Zangorri with his own hands, buthad borne the chief share in the fight.

  "Englishman," said a voice. "I thank you."

  Brandon started.

  It was Zangorri who had spoken; and in very fair English too.

  "Do you speak English?" was all that he could say in his surprise.

  "I ought to. I've seen enough of them," growled the other.

  "You scoundrel!" cried Brandon, "you have nothing to thank me for. Youmust die a worse death."

  "Ah," sneered Zangorri. "Well. It's about time. But my death will notpay for the hundreds of English lives that I have taken. I thank youthough, for you will give me time yet to tell the Englishmen how I hatethem."

  And the expression of hate that gleamed from the eyes of the Malay wasappalling.

  "Why do you hate them?" asked Brandon, whose curiosity was excited.

  "My brother's blood was shed by them, and a Malay never forgives. Yet Ihave never found the man I sought. If I had found him I would not havekilled any more."

  "The man--what man?"

  "The one whom I have sought for fifteen years through all these seas,"said the other, hoarsely.

  "What is his name?"

  "I will not speak it. I had it carved on my creese which hangs around myneck."

  Brandon thrust his hand into the bosom of the Malay where he saw a cordwhich passed around his neck. He drew forth a creese, and holding it upsaw this name cut upon the handle: "JOHN POTTS."

  The change that came over the severe, impassive face of Brandon was soextraordinary that even Zangorri in his pain and fury saw it. He utteredan exclamation. The brow of Brandon grew as black as night, his nostrilsquivered, his eyes seemed to blaze with a terrific lustre, and a slightfoam spread itself over his quivering lips. But he commanded himself bya violent effort.

  He looked all around. The sailors were busy with the Captain, who stilllay senseless. No one observed him. He turned to Zangorri.

  "This shall be mine," said he, and he threw the cord around his ownneck, and put the creese under his waistcoat. But the sharp eye of theMalay had been watching him, and as he raised his arm carelessly toput the weapon where he desired, he thoughtlessly loosed his hold.That instant Zangorri took advantage of it. By a tremendous effort hedisengaged himself and bounded to his feet. The next instant he was atthe taffrail. One hasty glance all around showed him all that he wishedto see. Another moment and he was beneath the water.

  Brandon had been taken unawares, and the Malay was in the water beforehe could think. But he drew his revolver, in which there yet remainedtwo shots, and, stepping to the taffrail, watched for Zangorri toreappear.

  During the fight a change had come over the scene. The fog had begun tobe dissipated and a wider horizon appeared. As Brandon looked he saw twovessels upon the smooth surface of the sea. One was the _Falcon_. Theother was a large Malay proa. On the decks of this last was a crowd ofmen, perhaps about fifty in number, who stood looking toward the shipwhere the fight had been. The sweeps were out, and they were preparingto move away. But the escape of Zangorri had aroused them, and they wereevidently waiting to see the result. That result lay altogether at thedisposal of the man with the revolver, who stood at the stern from whichZangorri had leaped.

  And now Zangorri's head appeared above the waves, while he took a longbreath ere he plunged again. The revolver covered him. In a moment abullet could have plunged into his brain.

  But Brandon did not fire. He could not. It was too cold-blooded. True,Zangorri was stained with countless crimes; but all his crimes at thatmoment were forgotten: he did not appear as Zangorri the mercilesspirate, but simply as a wounded wretch, trying to escape from death.That death Brandon could not deal him.

  The sailors were still intent upon the Captain, whose state wascritical, and Brandon alone watched the Malay. Soon he saw those onboard the proa send down a boat and row quickly toward him. They reachedhim, dragged him on board, and then rowed back.

  Brandon turned away. As yet no one had been in the cabin. He hurriedthither to see if perchance any one was there who might be saved.

  He entered the cabin. The first look which he gave disclosed a sightwhich was enough to chill the blood of the stoutest heart that everbeat.

  All around the cabin lay human bodies distorted by the agonies ofdeath, twisted and twined in different attitudes, and still lying in theposition in which death had found them.

  One, whose appearance showed him to be the captain, lay grasping thehair of a Malay, with his sword through his enemy's heart, while a knifestill remained buried in his own. Another lay with his head cut open;another with his face torn by the explosion of a gun. There were fourwhites here and about ten Malays, all dead. But the fourth white was awoman, who lay dead in front of a door that led to an inner cabin, andwhich was now clos
ed. The woman appeared to be about fifty years of age,her venerable gray hair was stained with blood, and her hand clutchedthe arm of a Malay who lay dead by her side.

  While Brandon stood looking at this sight he became aware of a movementin a corner of the cabin where there were five or six bodies heapedtogether. He hurried over to the place, and, pulling away the bodies ofseveral Malays, found at length a Hindu of large stature, in whom lifewas by no means extinct, for he was pushing with hands and feet andmaking faint efforts to rise. He had been wounded in many places, andwas now quite unconscious.

  Brandon dragged away all the bodies, laid him in as easy a posture aspossible, and then rushed up to the deck for some water. Returning hedashed it over the Hindu, and bound up one or two wounds which seemedmost dangerous.

  His care soon brought the Hindu to consciousness.

  The man opened his eyes, looked upon Brandon first with astonishment,then with speechless gratitude, and clasping his hand moaned faintly, inbroken English.

  "Bless de Lor! Sahib!"

  Brandon hurried up on deck and calling some of the sailors had theHindu conveyed there. All crowded around him to ask him questions, andgradually found out about the attack of the pirates. The ship had beenbecalmed the day before, and the Malay proa was in sight, evidently withevil intentions. They had kept a good watch, and when the fog came hadsome hope of escape. But the Malay boats had sought them through thefog, and had found them. They had resisted well, but were overpoweredby numbers. The Hindu had been cook of the ship, and had fought till thelast by the side of his captain.

  Without waiting to hear the Hindu's story Brandon went back to thecabin. The door that opened into the inner cabin was shut. He triedit. It was locked. He looked into the keyhole. It was locked from theinside.

  "SHE FLUNG HERSELF ON HER KNEES IN A TRANSPORT OFGRATITUDE."] "Is any one there?" he asked.

  A cry of surprise was the sole answer.

  "You are safe. We are friends. Open!" cried Brandon.

  Then came the sound of light footsteps, the key was turned, the doorslided back, and there appeared before the astonished eyes of Brandon ayoung girl, who, the moment that she saw him, flung herself on her kneesin a transport of gratitude and raised her face to Heaven, while herlips uttered inaudible words of thanksgiving.

  She was quite a young girl, with a delicate, slender frame, and featuresof extreme loveliness. Her complexion was singularly colorless. Her eyeswere large, dark, and luminous. Her hair fell in rich masses over hershoulders. In one hand she held a knife, to which she clung with adeath-like tenacity.

  "Poor child!" murmured Brandon, in accents of tenderest commiseration."It is but little that you could do with that knife."

  She looked up at him as she knelt, then looked at the keen glitteringsteel, and, with a solemnity of accent which showed how deeply she wasin earnest, murmured, half to herself,

  "It could at least have saved me!"

  Brandon smiled upon her with such a smile as a father might give atseeing the spirit or prowess of some idolized son.

  "There is no need," he said, with a voice of deep feeling, "there isno need of that now. You are saved. You are avenged. Come with me." Thegirl rose. "But wait," said Brandon, and he looked at her earnestly andmost pityingly. "There are things here which you should not see. Willyou shut your eyes and let me lead you?"

  "I can bear it," said the girl. "I will not shut my eyes."

  "You must," said Brandon, firmly, but still pityingly, for he thought ofthat venerable woman who lay in blood outside the door. The girllooked at him and seemed at first as though about to refuse. There wassomething in his face so full of compassion, and entreaty, and calmcontrol, that she consented. She closed her eyes and held out her hand.Brandon took it and led her through the place of horror and up to thedeck.

  Her appearance was greeted with a cry of joy from all the sailors. Thegirl looked around. She saw the Malays lying dead upon the deck. She sawthe ship that had rescued, and the proa that had terrified her. But shesaw no familiar face.

  She turned to Brandon with a face of horror, and with white lips asked:

  "Where are they all?"

  "Gone," said Brandon.

  "What! All?" gasped the girl.

  "All--except yourself and the cook."

  She shuddered from head to foot; at last, coming closer to Brandon, shewhispered: "And my nurse--?"

  Brandon said nothing, but, with a face full of meaning, pointed upward.The girl understood him. She reeled, and would have fallen had notBrandon supported her. Then she covered her face with her hands, and,staggering away to a seat, sank down and wept bitterly.

  All were silent. Even the rough sailors respected that grief. Rough! Whodoes not know that sailors are often the most tender-hearted of men, andalways the most impulsive, and most quick to sympathy?

  So now they said nothing, but stood in groups sorrowing in her sorrow.The Captain, meanwhile, had revived, and was already on his feet lookingaround upon the scene. The Hindu also had gained strength with everythrob of his heart and every breath of the air.

  But suddenly a cry arose from one of the men who stood nearest thehatchway.

  "The ship is sinking!"

  Every one started. Yes, the ship was sinking. No one had noticed it; butthe water was already within a few feet of the top. No doubt Zangorrihad been scuttling her when he rushed out of the hold at the noise ofthe attack.

  There was nothing left but to hasten away. There was time to savenothing. The bodies of the dead had to be left with the ship for theirtomb. In a short time they had all hurried into the boat and werepulling away. But not too soon. For scarcely had they pulled away halfa dozen boat-lengths from the ship than the water, which had been risinghigher and higher, more rapidly every moment, rushed madly with a finalonset to secure its prey; and with a groan like that of some livingthing the ship went down.

  A yell came from over the water. It rose from the Malay proa, which wasmoving away as fast as the long sweeps could carry her. But the deadwere not revenged only. They were remembered. Not long after reachingthe _Falcon_ the sailors were summoned to the side which looked towardthe spot where the ship had sunk, and the solemn voice of Brandon readthe burial-service of the Church.

  And as he read that service he understood the fate which he had escapedwhen the ship passed Coffin Island without noticing his signal.