Kabanata Kabanata 44 · ‘I don’t think they spoke together again. The boat entered a narrow

. ‘I don’t think they spoke together again. The boat entered a narrow

by-channel, where it was pushed by the oar-blades set into crumbling

banks, and there was a gloom as if enormous black wings had been

outspread above the mist that filled its depth to the summits of the

trees. The branches overhead showered big drops through the gloomy fog.

At a mutter from Cornelius, Brown ordered his men to load. “I’ll

give you a chance to get even with them before we’re done, you dismal

cripples, you,” he said to his gang. “Mind you don’t throw it away--you

hounds.” Low growls answered that speech. Cornelius showed much fussy

concern for the safety of his canoe.

‘Meantime Tamb’ Itam had reached the end of his journey. The fog had

delayed him a little, but he had paddled steadily, keeping in touch with

the south bank. By-and-by daylight came like a glow in a ground glass

globe. The shores made on each side of the river a dark smudge, in which

one could detect hints of columnar forms and shadows of twisted branches

high up. The mist was still thick on the water, but a good watch was

being kept, for as Iamb’ Itam approached the camp the figures of two men

emerged out of the white vapour, and voices spoke to him boisterously.

He answered, and presently a canoe lay alongside, and he exchanged news

with the paddlers. All was well. The trouble was over. Then the men in

the canoe let go their grip on the side of his dug-out and incontinently

fell out of sight. He pursued his way till he heard voices coming to him

quietly over the water, and saw, under the now lifting, swirling mist,

the glow of many little fires burning on a sandy stretch, backed by

lofty thin timber and bushes. There again a look-out was kept, for he

was challenged. He shouted his name as the two last sweeps of his paddle

ran his canoe up on the strand. It was a big camp. Men crouched in many

little knots under a subdued murmur of early morning talk. Many thin

threads of smoke curled slowly on the white mist. Little shelters,

elevated above the ground, had been built for the chiefs. Muskets were

stacked in small pyramids, and long spears were stuck singly into the

sand near the fires.

‘Tamb’ Itam, assuming an air of importance, demanded to be led to Dain

Waris. He found the friend of his white lord lying on a raised couch

made of bamboo, and sheltered by a sort of shed of sticks covered with

mats. Dain Waris was awake, and a bright fire was burning before his

sleeping-place, which resembled a rude shrine. The only son of nakhoda

Doramin answered his greeting kindly. Tamb’ Itam began by handing him

the ring which vouched for the truth of the messenger’s words. Dain

Waris, reclining on his elbow, bade him speak and tell all the news.

Beginning with the consecrated formula, “The news is good,” Tamb’ Itam

delivered Jim’s own words. The white men, deputing with the consent of

all the chiefs, were to be allowed to pass down the river. In answer to

a question or two Tamb’ Itam then reported the proceedings of the last

council. Dain Waris listened attentively to the end, toying with the

ring which ultimately he slipped on the forefinger of his right hand.

After hearing all he had to say he dismissed Tamb’ Itam to have food

and rest. Orders for the return in the afternoon were given immediately.

Afterwards Dain Waris lay down again, open-eyed, while his personal

attendants were preparing his food at the fire, by which Tamb’ Itam also

sat talking to the men who lounged up to hear the latest intelligence

from the town. The sun was eating up the mist. A good watch was kept

upon the reach of the main stream where the boat of the whites was

expected to appear every moment.

‘It was then that Brown took his revenge upon the world which, after

twenty years of contemptuous and reckless bullying, refused him the

tribute of a common robber’s success. It was an act of cold-blooded

ferocity, and it consoled him on his deathbed like a memory of an

indomitable defiance. Stealthily he landed his men on the other side

of the island opposite to the Bugis camp, and led them across. After a

short but quite silent scuffle, Cornelius, who had tried to slink away

at the moment of landing, resigned himself to show the way where the

undergrowth was most sparse. Brown held both his skinny hands together

behind his back in the grip of one vast fist, and now and then impelled

him forward with a fierce push. Cornelius remained as mute as a fish,

abject but faithful to his purpose, whose accomplishment loomed before

him dimly. At the edge of the patch of forest Brown’s men spread

themselves out in cover and waited. The camp was plain from end to end

before their eyes, and no one looked their way. Nobody even dreamed that

the white men could have any knowledge of the narrow channel at the back

of the island. When he judged the moment come, Brown yelled, “Let them

have it,” and fourteen shots rang out like one.

‘Tamb’ Itam told me the surprise was so great that, except for those who

fell dead or wounded, not a soul of them moved for quite an appreciable

time after the first discharge. Then a man screamed, and after that

scream a great yell of amazement and fear went up from all the throats.

A blind panic drove these men in a surging swaying mob to and fro along

the shore like a herd of cattle afraid of the water. Some few jumped

into the river then, but most of them did so only after the last

discharge. Three times Brown’s men fired into the ruck, Brown, the only

one in view, cursing and yelling, “Aim low! aim low!”

‘Tamb’ Itam says that, as for him, he understood at the first volley

what had happened. Though untouched he fell down and lay as if dead,

but with his eyes open. At the sound of the first shots Dain Waris,

reclining on the couch, jumped up and ran out upon the open shore, just

in time to receive a bullet in his forehead at the second discharge.

Tamb’ Itam saw him fling his arms wide open before he fell. Then, he

says, a great fear came upon him--not before. The white men retired as

they had come--unseen.

‘Thus Brown balanced his account with the evil fortune. Notice that even

in this awful outbreak there is a superiority as of a man who carries

right--the abstract thing--within the envelope of his common desires.

It was not a vulgar and treacherous massacre; it was a lesson, a

retribution--a demonstration of some obscure and awful attribute of our

nature which, I am afraid, is not so very far under the surface as we

like to think.

‘Afterwards the whites depart unseen by Tamb’ Itam, and seem to vanish

from before men’s eyes altogether; and the schooner, too, vanishes after

the manner of stolen goods. But a story is told of a white long-boat

picked up a month later in the Indian Ocean by a cargo steamer. Two

parched, yellow, glassy-eyed, whispering skeletons in her recognised

the authority of a third, who declared that his name was Brown. His

schooner, he reported, bound south with a cargo of Java sugar, had

sprung a bad leak and sank under his feet. He and his companions were

the survivors of a crew of six. The two died on board the steamer which

rescued them. Brown lived to be seen by me, and I can testify that he

had played his part to the last.

‘It seems, however, that in going away they had neglected to cast off

Cornelius’s canoe. Cornelius himself Brown had let go at the beginning

of the shooting, with a kick for a parting benediction. Tamb’ Itam,

after arising from amongst the dead, saw the Nazarene running up and

down the shore amongst the corpses and the expiring fires. He uttered

little cries. Suddenly he rushed to the water, and made frantic efforts

to get one of the Bugis boats into the water. “Afterwards, till he had

seen me,” related Tamb’ Itam, “he stood looking at the heavy canoe and

scratching his head.” “What became of him?” I asked. Tamb’ Itam, staring

hard at me, made an expressive gesture with his right arm. “Twice I

struck, Tuan,” he said. “When he beheld me approaching he cast himself

violently on the ground and made a great outcry, kicking. He screeched

like a frightened hen till he felt the point; then he was still, and lay

staring at me while his life went out of his eyes.”

‘This done, Tamb’ Itam did not tarry. He understood the importance of

being the first with the awful news at the fort. There were, of course,

many survivors of Dain Waris’s party; but in the extremity of panic some

had swum across the river, others had bolted into the bush. The fact is

that they did not know really who struck that blow--whether more white

robbers were not coming, whether they had not already got hold of

the whole land. They imagined themselves to be the victims of a vast

treachery, and utterly doomed to destruction. It is said that some small

parties did not come in till three days afterwards. However, a few tried

to make their way back to Patusan at once, and one of the canoes that

were patrolling the river that morning was in sight of the camp at

the very moment of the attack. It is true that at first the men in her

leaped overboard and swam to the opposite bank, but afterwards they

returned to their boat and started fearfully up-stream. Of these Tamb’

Itam had an hour’s advance.’