Tales of the Malayan Coast
The Illanums, naked, with the exception of party-colored sarongs
around their waists, with their bucklers on their left arms and
their gleaming knives strapped to their right wrists, were mounting
on each other's shoulders, forcing a way up the precipitous defile,
unmindful of the madly descending rocks that had crushed and maimed
more than one of their number. They were fine, powerful fellows, with
a reddish brown skin that shone like polished ebony. Their hair was
shorn close to their heads; they had high cheek bones, flat noses,
syrah-stained lips, and bloodshot eyes. In their movements they were
as lithe and supple as a tiger, and commanded our admiration while
they made us shudder. We knew that they neither give nor take quarter,
and for years had terrorized the entire Bornean coast.
We were ready to fire, but a gesture from the captain restrained us;
our ammunition was low, and he wished to save it until we actually
needed it. By our united efforts we pried off two of the volcanic
rocks, which, with a great leap, disappeared into the darkness below,
oftentimes appearing for an instant before rushing to the sea. Every
time an Illanum fell we gave a hearty American cheer, which was
answered by savage yells. Still they fought on and up, making little
headway. We were gradually relaxing our efforts, thinking that they
were sick of the affair, when the report of a musket from the opposite
side of the island called our attention to the bo's'n, who had been
detailed to guard the other defile.
The bo's'n and one native soldier were fighting hand to hand with a
dozen pirates who were forcing their way up the edge of the cliff. Half
of the men dashed to their relief just in time to see the soldier go
over the precipice locked in the arms of a giant Illanum. One volley
from our muskets settled the hopes of the invaders.
Our little party was divided, and we were outnumbered ten to one. One
of the sailors in dislodging a boulder lost his footing and went
crashing down with it amid the derisive yells of the pirates. Suddenly
the conflict ceased and the pirates withdrew. In a short time we
could see them building a number of small fires along the beach, and
the aroma of rice curry came up to us with the breeze. The captain, I
could see, was anxious, although my boyish feelings did not go beyond
a sense of intoxicating excitement. I heard him say that nothing but
a storm or a ship could save us in case we were besieged; that it
was better to have the fight out at once and die with our arms in
our hands than to starve to death.
Giving each a small portion of ship biscuit and a taste of water,
he enjoined on each a careful watchfulness and a provident use of
our small stock of provisions.
I took mine in my hand and walked out on the edge of the cliff somewhat
sobered. Directly below me were the pirates, and at my feet I noticed
a fragment of rock that I thought I could loosen. Putting down my food,
I foolishly picked up a piece of timber which I used as a lever, when,
without warning, the mass broke away, and with a tremendous bound
went crashing down into the very midst of the pirates, scattering
them right and left, and ended by crushing one of the praus that was
drawn up on the sand.
In an instant the quiet beach was a scene of the wildest confusion. A
surging, crowding mass of pirates with their krises between their
teeth dashed up the canon, intent on avenging their loss. I dropped
my lever and rushed back to the men, nearly frightened to death at
the result of my temerity. There was no time for boulders; the men
reached the brink of the defile just in time to welcome the assailants
with a broadside. Their lines wavered, but fresh men took the places
of the fallen, and they pushed on. Another volley from our guns,
and the dead and wounded encumbered the progress of the living. A
shower of stones and timbers gave us the light, and they withdrew
with savage yells to open the siege once more. Only one of our men
had been wounded,--he by an arrow from a blowpipe.
V
All that night we kept watch. The next morning we were once more
attacked, but successfully defended ourselves with boulders and our
cutlasses. Yet one swarthy pirate succeeded in catching the leg of
the remaining native soldier and bearing him away with them. With
cessation of hostilities, we searched the top of the island for food
and water. At one side of the tableland there was a break in its
surface and a bench of some dozen acres lay perhaps twenty feet below
our retreat. We cautiously worked our way down to this portion and
there to our delight found a number of fan-shaped traveller's palms
and monkey-cups full of sweet water, which with two wild sago palms
we calculated would keep us alive a few days at all events.
We were much encouraged at this discovery, and that night collected
a lot of brush from the lower plain and lit a big fire on the
most exposed part of the rocks. We did not care if it brought a
thousand more pirates as long as it attracted the attention of a
passing ship. Two good nine-pounders would soon send our foes in all
directions. We relieved each other in watching during the night, and
by sunrise we were all completely worn out. The third day was one of
weariness and thirst under the burning rays of the tropical sun. That
day we ate the last of our ship biscuit and were reduced to a few
drops of water each. Starvation was staring us in the face. There
was but one alternative, and that was to descend and make a fight
for our boat on the beach. The bo's'n volunteered with three men to
descend the defile and reconnoitre. Armed only with their cutlasses
and a short axe, they worked their way carefully down in the shadow
of the rocks, while we kept watch above.
All was quiet for a time; then there arose a tumult of cries, oaths,
and yells. The captain gave the order, and pell-mell down the rift
we clambered, some dropping their muskets in their hurried descent,
one of which exploded in its fall. The bo's'n had found the beach
and our boat guarded by six pirates, who were asleep. Four of these
they succeeded in throttling. We pushed the boat into the surf,
expecting every moment to see one of the praus glide around the
projecting reef that separated the two inlets. We could plainly
hear their cries and yells as they discovered our escape, and with
a "heigh-ho-heigh!" our long-boat shot out into the placid ocean,
sending up a shower of phosphorescent bubbles. We bent our backs to
the oars as only a question of life or death can make one. With each
stroke the boat seemed almost to lift itself out of the water. Almost
at the same time a long dark line, filled with moving objects, dashed
out from the shadow of the cliffs, hardly a hundred yards away.
It was a glorious race over the dim waters of that tropical sea. I
as a boy could not realize what capture meant at the hands of our
cruel pursuers. My heart beat high, and I felt equal to a dozen
Illanums. My thoughts travelled back to New England in the midst of
the excitement. I saw myself before the open arch fire in a low-roofed
old house, that for a century had withstood the fiercest gales on the
old Maine coast, and from whose doors had gone forth three generations
of sea-captains. I saw myself on a winter night relating this very
story of adventure to an old gray-haired, bronzed-faced father, and
a mother whose parting kiss still lingered on my lips, to my younger
brother, and sister. I could feel their undisguised admiration as I
told of my fight with pirates in the Bornean sea. It is wonderful how
the mind will travel. Yet with my thoughts in Maine, I saw and felt
that the Illanums were gradually gaining on us. Our men were weary
and feeble from two days' fasting, while the pirates were strong,
and thirsting for our blood.
The captain kept glancing first at the enemy and then at a musket
that lay near him. He longed to use it, but not a man could be spared
from the oars. Hand over hand they gained on us. Turning his eyes on
me as I sat in the bow, the captain said, while he bent his sinewy
back to the oar, "Jack, are you a good shot?"
I stammered, "I can try, sir."
"Very well, get the musket there in the bow. It is loaded. Take good
aim and shoot that big fellow in the stern. If you hit him, I'll make
you master of a ship some day."
Tremblingly I raised the heavy musket as directed. The boat was
unsteady, I hardly expected to hit the chief, but aimed low, hoping
to hit one of the rowers at least. I aimed, closed my eyes, and
fired. With the report of the musket the tall leader sprang into the
air and then fell head fore-most amid his rowers. I could just detect
the gleam of the moonlight on the jewelled handle of his kris as it
sank into the waters. I had hit my man. The sailors sent up a hearty
American cheer and a tiger, as they saw the prau come to a standstill.
Our boat sprang away into the darkness. We did not cease rowing until
dawn,--then we lay back on our oars and stretched our tired backs
and arms. I had taken my place at the oar during the night.
Away out on the northern horizon we saw a black speck; on the southern
horizon another. The captain's glass revealed one to be the pirate
prau with all sails set, for a wind had come up with the dawn. The
other we welcomed with a cheer, for it was the Bangor. Enfeebled
and nearly famishing, we headed toward it and rowed for life. How we
regretted having left our sails on the island. The prau had sighted
us and was bearing down in full pursuit; we soon could distinguish
its wide-spreading, rakish sails almost touching the water as it
sped on. Then we made out the naked forms of the Illanums hanging
to the ropes, far out over the water, and then we could hear their
blood-curdling yell. It was too late; their yell was one of baffled
rage. It was answered by the deep bass tones of the swivel on board the
Bangor sending a ball skimming along over the waters, which, although
it went wide of its mark, caused the natives on the ropes to throw
themselves bodily across the prau, taking the great sail with them.
In another instant the red sail, the long, keen, black shell, the
naked forms of the fierce Illanums, were mixed in one undefinable
blot on the distant horizon.
And that was the skipper's yarn.