Полная версияOne Maid's Mischief
But for her costume, the Inche Maida would have passed very well for a dark Englishwoman, and she chatted on for a time about the Resident’s flowers and her own; about her visits to the English ladies at the station; and the various European luxuries that she kept adding to her home some twenty miles up the river, where she had quite a palm-tree palace and a goodly retinue of slaves.
Both Mr Harley and Hilton knew that there was some special object in the lady’s visit; but that was scrupulously kept in the background, while coffee and liqueurs were handed round, the visitors partaking freely of these and the sweetmeats and cakes kept by the Resident for the gratification of his native friends.
“It is nearly a year since you have been to see me Mr Harley,” said the lady at last. “When will you come again?”
“I shall be only too glad to come and see you,” said the Resident, “I have not forgotten the pleasure of my last journey to your home.”
“And you will come too?” said the Princess quickly; and she turned her great dark eyes upon Hilton, gazing at him fixedly the while.
“I – er – really I hardly think I can leave.”
“You will not come?” she cried, with an impetuous jerk of the head. “You think I am a savage, and you despise my ways. Mr Harley will tell you I have tried for years to learn your English customs and to speak your language. It is not fair.”
“Indeed,” cried Hilton, eager to make up for what the visitor evidently considered a slight, “I only hesitated on the score of duty.”
“You would not care to come,” she said, with the injured look of a spoiled child.
“Indeed I should,” exclaimed Hilton, “and I will come.”
“You will come?” she cried, with her dark eyes flashing.
“Yes, indeed I will.”
She leaned towards him, speaking eagerly:
“I am glad. I like you English. You shall hunt and shoot. There are tigers, and I have elephants. My slaves shall find game, and you shall have my boat to fetch you.”
Dark as her skin was, the Resident noticed the red blood mantling beneath it in her cheeks as she spoke eagerly, fixing her eyes upon Hilton as she spoke, and then lowering the lids in a dreamy, thoughtful way.
“Then you will both come?” she said.
“Yes, I promise for both; but we cannot leave the station together,” said Mr Harley.
“It is well,” she said, smiling; “and you too, lieutenant – you will come and see me? You like to shoot. All Englishmen like to shoot.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll come,” said Chumbley, with his slow, heavy drawl. “I think it would be rather jolly. Yes, I’ll come.”
She nodded and smiled at him once more, as if he amused her; and Harley noticed that she glanced at Chumbley again and again as the conversation went on, looking at him as if he were some fine kind of animal she thought it would be well to buy at the first opportunity.
All at once, though, she turned sharply upon the Resident, and the object of her visit came out.
“I want you to help me,” she said, with an angry flash in her eye. “I am a woman, and I cannot fight, or I would not come to you for help. But you English are just. You have settled in our country, and your Princess says, ‘Let there be no cruelty and ill-treatment of the people where you are.’ I have seen you for ten years, ever since I became a woman who could think and act; but because I am a woman I am oppressed. Because I will not be his wife Rajah Hamet stops my people’s boats, and takes away tin and rice. His people beat my slaves and steal their fruit and fowls. Our lives become suffering, for my people are me. I am not a mother, but they call me mother, and they say, ‘See, your children are robbed and beaten; they moisten the dust of the earth with their tears.’”
“Ah! ah! ah! ay! ayo!”
The three Englishmen started, for at these words of their Princess the women burst into a piteous wail, and beat their breasts.
“We suffer; I weep with my children,” continued the Princess, rising and holding out her hands, as she went on speaking with a natural grace and fiery eloquence. “I grow hot with anger, and I am ready to take my father’s kris and limbing and to go out against this coward who oppresses me; but I am a woman, and I should lead my people to death. I cannot do this, but I think and think till the rage grows cold, and my reason comes back, and I say, ‘The great Queen loves her people, and she will not have them hurt. Her rulers, and counsellors, and warriors are in our country, and I will go to them and say, See, I am a woman – a princess. I pay you the tribute you ask of me, and I give you love and all I have that you ask. Save me, then, from this man. Teach him that he cannot rob and injure my people, and so beat and injure me – a helpless woman.’ Will you do this, or shall I go back to my own place and say, ‘The English are brave, but they will not help me? I am a woman, and you and your children must bear your lot.’”
She ceased speaking and crossed her hands humbly upon her breast; but her eyes lit up as she saw that Chumbley – upon whom her words had had a remarkable effect – was watching the Resident keenly, and was evidently eager to speak.
“Princess,” said Mr Harley, “I am deeply grieved that you should have to make this appeal. I do not act in a matter of such grave importance as this without asking advice; but that I will do at once, and believe me, if I could help it, you should not wait an hour for redress.”
“Not half an hour if I could have my way,” cried Chumbley, excitedly. “Princess, I hope we shall soon visit you for some purpose.”
She smiled at him again, and nodded her satisfaction; but there was something very grave and earnest in her look as she almost timidly turned to Hilton.
He saw the look, which was one of appeal, and seemed to ask for a reply.
“I, too,” he said, “should gladly come to your assistance.”
“Then my task is done,” she said. “Mr Harley, pray give me your help, and my people shall be ready should evil days come, as they did when I was a mere girl, and the English were in peril of their lives.”
“Princess, I will do my best,” he replied; and at a sign from their lady the women rose and stood ready to follow her back to her boat.
“Good-bye,” she said, simply, and she held out her hand, placing it afterwards upon Captain Hilton’s arm, as if she wished him to escort her down to the landing-stage.
This he did, followed by Chumbley, and on reaching the boat the rowers leaped to their places with the alacrity of well-drilled and disciplined men.
The Princess stood aside till the last of her attendants was in her place, and then she turned to Hilton.
“Good-bye,” she said.
“Good-bye, Princess,” he replied, shaking her hand. “I hope we shall have orders to come to your help.”
“So do I,” cried Chumbley, as he took the Princess’s hand in turn; and as he uttered his earnest words he involuntarily raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with profound respect.
The Inche Maida’s eyes flashed as she glanced at him, but they turned directly after with rather a regretful look at Hilton, as she seated herself beneath the awning. Then giving a signal with her hand, the rowers’ paddles dipped, the swift boat darted out into the stream, was deftly turned, and began to ascend rapidly; the two young men standing upon the stage where the guard had presented arms, both of them a good deal impressed.
“I say, old fellow,” cried Chumbley, speaking with animation, “that’s an uncommonly fine woman, in spite of her coffee skin.”
“Yea; you seemed to think so,” replied Hilton, laughing.
“Did I?” said Chumbley, with his eyes fixed on the retreating boat.
“Yes; I never saw you so polite to a woman before.”
“Didn’t you? Well, but she is in trouble, poor thing; and I say, hang it all, old man, how well she spoke out about her people – her children, and her wrongs.”
“Yes, it seems very hard, especially as I don’t think Harley will get instructions to interfere on her behalf.”
“Not interfere!” cried Chumbley. “Then it will be a damned shame. My dear old man, if we don’t get orders to dress that fellow down, I’ll go up and see her myself, and instead of tiger-hunting I’ll try if I can’t punch the blackguard’s head.”
“Why, Chumbley, old boy, what’s the matter with you!” cried Hilton, laughing.
“Matter? With me? Nothing at all.”
“But you seem all on fire to go and help the Princess.”
“Well, of course,” said the lieutenant, warmly; “and so I would any woman who was in distress. Why, hang it all, a fellow isn’t worth much who wouldn’t run some risks to protect a woman.”
“Hear! hear! Bravo! bravo! Why Chumbley, you improve.”
“Stuff! nonsense!” cried the latter, ashamed of his warmth.
“Stuff if you like, and prime stuff,” rejoined Hilton. “It’s the sort of stuff of which I like to see men made. I have hopes of you yet, Chumbley. You will turn ladies’ man – grow smooth and refined.”
“And use a pouncet-box, eh?”
“No; I draw the line at the pouncet-box and silk,” laughed Hilton.
“Never mind! Chaff as much as you like, I’d go and help that Inche Maida. By Jove! what a name for a woman?”
“Yes, it is a name for such a fine Cleopatra of a princess. I say, Chum, she seems to have taken quite a fancy to you.”
“To me, eh? Well, I like that! Oh, come!” laughed Chumbley. “Why, I saw her lay her hand upon your arm as if she wanted it to stay there. I’ll swear I saw her squeeze your hand. No, my boy, it was your Hyperion curls that attracted her ladyship.”
“But I’ll vow I saw her take a lot of notice of you, Chum.”
“Yes, but it was because I looked so big; that was all, lad. She’s a sort of hen Frederick William of Prussia, who would adore a regiment of six-feet-six grenadiers. But never mind that; I think she ought to be helped.”
“Yes,” said Hilton, quietly; “but I wish it was Murad who had done the wrong, for then I think that I should feel as warm as you – Well, what is it?”
“Mr Harley wishes to see you directly, sir,” said an orderly.
“Come along, Chumbley; there’s news, it seems. What is it, Harley?” he continued, as they joined the Resident in the veranda.
“I have just had news from a man I can trust. Murad is getting his people together, and I fear it means trouble.”
“Let it come, then,” said Hilton, firmly. “I’m rather glad.”
“Glad!” said the Resident, sternly; “and with all these women and children under our charge!”
“I was not thinking of them,” said Hilton, warmly, “but of chastising a scoundrel who seems determined to be thrashed.”
“I hope he’ll bring the other fellow too,” said Chumbley.
“Hilton – Chumbley!” said the Resident, sternly. “You think upon the surface. You do not realise what all this trouble means!”
Volume One – Chapter Twenty Five.
Lieutenant Chumbley’s Thoughts
The news received by Mr Harley had no following. Sultan Murad had undoubtedly gathered his people together, but as events proved, it was not to make a descent upon the station.
But all the same, the conduct of the young Malay prince augmented the scare amongst the Europeans. Grey Stuart grew pale, and thought with feelings of horror of what might be the consequences of her schoolfellow’s folly. Helen, too, was in no slight degree alarmed, and the effect of the incident was to sober her somewhat for the time; but as the days glided on and nothing happened, the dread faded away like one of the opalescent mists that hung above the silver river at early morn.
“It is all nonsense,” said Mr Perowne; “the prestige of the English is too great for this petty rajah to dare to attempt any savage revenge.”
“Hah, you think so, do you?” said old Stuart, in his most Scottish tones. “I never knew a tiger hesitate to bite or a serpent to sting because the pairson near him was an Englishman. Ye’ll hae to tak’ care o’ yon lassie o’ yours, Perowne, or she’ll get us into sad meeschief.”
“If Mr Stuart would kindly direct his attention to the instruction of his own daughter, papa, I am sure he would find his hands full,” said Helen, in a haughty, half-contemptuous tone, as she crossed the soft carpet unheard.
“Oh, ye’re there are ye, lassie?” said the old Scot. “Weel, I’ll tell ye that my Grey kens how to behave, and don’t go throwing herself at the head of every gentleman she meets; and for your own sake, lassie, I wish your poor mither was alive.”
Helen raised her eyes and looked at him for some moments with an angry, disdainful stare of resentment.
“Eh, ye’ve got bonnie een, lassie, verra bonnie een; but I’d a deal rather see my Grey’s little wax tapers burning softly than those dark brimstone matches of yours ready to set every puir laddie’s heart ablaze.”
“Is this your friend, papa?” cried Helen; and she swept from the room.
“Yes, lassie,” said the old Scot, wiping his eyes after laughing at his own conceit. “Yes, I’m ye’r father’s best friend, lassie; am I not, Perowne?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said the merchant; “but you should not talk to her like that, Stuart.”
“And why not?” said the old man. “Are we to let her go on setting fire to trains all over the place, and trying to get us blown in the air?”
“Nonsense, nonsense! These fellows have sense enough to know what they may do and what they may not.”
“Oh, yes, they’ve plenty of sense,” agreed the old Scotch merchant.
“And they won’t forget in a hurry how we punished the other rajahs for their treacherous rising against the British power.”
“Yes, yes, I know all about that,” said the old man; “but Murad will not forget this insult to his pride, and I insist, Perowne, upon your keeping a tighter rein over that lassie.”
Mr Perowne seemed disposed to resist, but he ended by promising that he would; and after a certain number of discussions in various houses, the cessation of all further proceedings, and a certain amount of worry consequent upon the apprehended danger, the old state of affairs began once more to prevail.
The last to hold out was Mrs Doctor Bolter, who exercised a great deal of watchfulness over her husband and brother, sending one after the other at the most incongruous times.
So peace was once more settling down over Sindang, which rapidly began to resume its dreamy state, the only busy thing about the place being the river, which rapidly flowed onward towards the sea.
The three ladies had grown somewhat accustomed to the sleepy life that nature compelled them to live in a land where, saving at early morn and at evening, any employment was only to be carried out by an extreme effort of will that very few there cared to exercise.
A delicious, drowsy, lotus-eating life it seemed; and as Helen Perowne and Grey Stuart sat beneath the shade of one of the delicious flower-bearing trees inhaling the cloying scents, and watching the eternal sparkle of the beautiful river, they could not help comparing it with their existence at the Miss Twettenhams’ school.
Tropic flowers, luscious fruits were there in profusion. Every day seemed to bring those of richer and rarer kinds. The garden was lush with a profusion of choice plants such as could only be produced in the hottest houses at home; and Grey was fain to confess that in spite of the heat it was a lovely land.
Just as everyone had concluded, there had not been the slightest cause for alarm, so they said.
Still the alarm had been excusable, living as they were, a mere handful of strangers, amongst a people well known for their volcanic nature and quickness at taking offence, this latter being acknowledged by the Rajah himself, who completed the calm by coming in semi-state to the Residency island to ask Mr Harley to make intercession for him with the Perownes.
“I am wiser now,” he said, with a smile, “and I want to make amends.”
This was said so frankly that, however suspicious he may have felt at heart, the Resident at once accepted the task of intercessor.
“I try so hard to be English in my ways,” said the young man, “but it takes a long time to forget one’s old customs. As I used to be, I had everything I asked for directly; I had only to say that I wanted this, or that I would have that, and I had it at once. But it is so different with you English. You always seem to be denying yourselves things you wish for, and think it great and good.”
“Well, we do think it a virtue,” said the Resident, smiling.
“I was very angry when Mr Perowne spoke to me as he did, and all my English education went away like a flash of a firefly in the night, and I was a savage once more; but when I got back and thought, then I saw that I had been mad, and I was grieved, for the English are my friends.”
“Ah, well,” said Mr Harley, “that is all over now. I undertake to put matters right with Mr Perowne; but to be frank with you, Rajah – ”
“Yes, that is right, be frank. That is what I like in an Englishman, he is frank and open. A Malay lets his secret thoughts be known – never.”
“I say, my friend,” exclaimed the Resident, laughing, “I hope that is not the case here.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” exclaimed Murad. “Do I not tell you I am English, and that I try to be like you.”
“To be sure, yes,” said Mr Harley. “Well, then, look here, I do not undertake to make you such friends as you wish to be with Miss Perowne.”
“You know all then?” said the Rajah, quickly.
“Her father told me.”
“Yes; you are his friend and counsellor; he would tell you of course. No; I do not expect that. I was mad and foolish just then. I know, of course, that you whites would not ally yourselves with us. We are a dreaming nation, and I had dreamed of her love and being happy with her amongst my people, making our alliance greater with you, but it was a dream. I am awake now, and it is past.”
“I don’t trust you, Master Murad,” said the Resident to himself; “but it is the best policy to seem to believe, and to try and make you friends with us again, so I will undertake your commission.”
“Look here,” he said aloud, “suppose you come across with me to Mr Perowne’s house?”
“Oh, no,” said the young Malay, shrinking back, “I should see her.”
“Very well; and if you do, what then? Come: you say you want to be English. Behave, then, now like an Englishman, taking your disappointment bravely, and let the lady see that you bear it with the calmness and consideration of a man.”
“I will come,” said the Rajah, eagerly; and he accompanied the Resident across the branch of the river to Mr Perowne’s handsome house, where the little explanation took place, and all parted the best of friends.
The Rajah was evidently extremely eager to make amends for the burst of temper he had displayed, and presents of fruit, flowers, and the other productions of the country were constantly arriving by his servants. In some instances, so as to check any excuse that there might be for refusing or looking upon the presents as being pressed upon the English residents, the gifts were accompanied by requests for some little European luxury or for the loan of some article; so that if the Rajah had it in his mind to allay suspicion, he was pretty successful, and matters went on as they were before. Dr Bolter went upon a three days’ expedition, which, on account of the difficulties of the country, extended to six days, and he was forgiven.
The Resident sent a despatch to the Governor respecting the Inche Maida’s case, and the Governor sent back a despatch to say that he had referred the matter to the Colonial Office; and the end of the piece of red tape was handed to the Malay Princess, who replied that she was willing to wait patiently for redress.
Then there was a pause, and life at the little station seemed to flow on as calmly as the river; but like the river, with its terrible reptiles lurking beneath the treacherously-smooth surface, so were there dangers beneath the calmly-flowing life of the British residents at the station, though they, prone as they were to take alarm, knew nothing, suspected nothing of what was in store.
A month had passed since the little explosion of the Malay volcano, as Chumbley called it. There had been dinners and evening meetings, and the Rajah had been invited to several; then Mr Harley invited nearly everyone to a picnic down the river in his dragon-boat – a party that was pronounced delightful.
This inspired the Rajah to imitate the Resident’s little party, and he sought out Chumbley and proposed to get up one on a more extensive scale, and take the party up the beautiful river as far as the rapids.
“I don’t mind helping you,” said Chumbley, “but it will be an awful lot of trouble, and precious hot.”
He finished, however, by saying he would help, and being once roused, threw himself heart and soul into the matter, especially as the Rajah came the next morning to say that he had had a visit from the Inche Maida, who, on being told of the projected party, had proposed that the boats should pass up the river as far as her home, where she would have a Malay banquet prepared.
This was agreed to, and the arrangements went on, it being considered advisable to do all that was possible to conciliate the native chiefs; and on the appointed day the Rajah’s two largest dragon-boats, with the rowers all in yellow satin jackets – the royal colour – were at the landing-place of the station, and the Residency island.
The embarkation was soon effected, and the merry party were being rapidly pulled along the light reaches of the winding river, whose clear waters flashed in the bright sunshine, while the verdure-covered banks were rich with a profusion of the gayest blossoms, some of which emitted a delicious scent, plainly observable upon the boats.
Helen Perowne looked handsomer than ever in a dress of the palest yellow silk, half hidden by artistic drapings of lace.
Captain Hilton was always at her side; while Chumbley, when he did rouse himself, tried to be a little attentive to Grey Stuart, who was in company with Mrs Bolter.
The latter lady was a good deal exercised in mind, consequent upon the Reverend Arthur insisting upon bringing his collecting-box, and the doctor his gun; and also because, when the latter was not chatting with the ladies of the party, he was constantly finding out that such and such a woody point would be a splendid place for being set ashore, as the forest abounded with birds and insects rich in nature’s brightest dyes.
The Rajah was the perfection of gallantry and politeness, treating Helen Perowne with a grave courtesy whenever he approached her; and all was going on in a most satisfactory style, when Chumbley, who had made his way to the back of the palm-leaf awning that sheltered the party in the boat from the torrid sun, waited his opportunity, and then beckoned to the doctor.
The latter stopped until Mrs Bolter’s eyes were in another direction, and then stole behind the awning to where Chumbley was seating himself, with his back against the side of the boat, the steersman looking at his great proportions with admiration the while.
“What is it, Chumbley?” said the doctor. “Not poorly, eh?”
“Never better in my life, doctor! Come and have a cigar.”
The doctor glanced forward, but they were completely hidden from sight; and with a sigh of satisfaction, he took a cigar from Chumbley’s case, lit it, and choosing a comfortable place, seated himself. Then like the lieutenant, he half closed his eyes, and enjoyed the delicious motion of the rippling water with the glorious panorama of foliage they passed.
“I say, steersman, have a cigar?” said Chumbley, to the tall, swarthy Malay, in his picturesque yellow satin dress.
The man did not understand his words, but he quite comprehended the act; and he showed his betel-stained teeth as he took the proffered cigar, and lit it from the one the lieutenant placed in his hands.
Then they went on and on, up glorious reach after reach of the river, startling reptiles on the banks, and bright-hued birds from the trees that overhung the stream.
“I say, doctor,” said Chumbley at last, in his lazy drawl, “what are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking that it can’t be long before my wife comes and finds me out.”
There was a pause, during which Chumbley laughed to himself.
“What are you thinking about, Chumbley?” said the doctor, suddenly.
Chumbley looked up suddenly at the steersman.
“Do you understand any English at all, old fellow?” he said; and the man shook his head.
“I was thinking, doctor,” said Chumbley, in a low voice, “what a go it would be if the Rajah has got us all in this boat here, and is taking us up the river never to come back any more.”