Middy and Ensign Part 11

"There, you ask Sergeant Lund if every word a'most I've said ain't quite true,"--which, with the exception of d.i.c.k's embellishment about the handsome sailors and soldiers, proved to be the case.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

TOM LONG'S WOUND.

Doctor Bolter had been very proud of the cure he had effected in the case of Adam Gray, whom, from that day forward, he looked upon in quite a different light, obtaining his services as often as possible in carrying out what he called his measures for preserving the camp in health, and he was constantly sending Gray on missions to the major.

But the doctor and his plans were set aside one morning, when there was an order for a general parade; and it was evident that there was something important on the way, for a good deal of bustle was visible on the deck of the steamer.

The news soon leaked out that the resident and officers were to make a state visit, full of ceremony, to the sultan; and in consequence there was a general turn out, in full review order, with the band. The sailors landed, and were drawn up on the sh.o.r.e, looking smart in their white, easy-fitting dress; and the steamer's cutters were soon after busy, landing the greater portion of the troops with their officers, in full uniform; while quite a crowd of Malays a.s.sembled on the beach, staring, some in wonderment, some manifestly in dislike, at the strangers.

The grand muster took place beneath the shade of some large trees, as far as was possible, for the heat was intense. Every one was in his best; and Ensign Long marched by Bob Roberts with a very bright sword beneath his arm, and putting on a pair of white kid gloves.

The middy tried to take matters coolly; but the thoroughly consequential air of his companion roused his ire, and he longed to do something to upset him.

That was, however, impossible, for the arrangements were complete; and the march inland, about a couple of miles, commenced with the Malays now drawing off into the woods, till--what looked rather ominous--the little force was left entirely alone.

The officers commented upon the fact, and felt a little suspicious, but their doubts were set aside by the appearance of a little party, of evidently some importance, for two, who seemed to be chiefs, were mounted upon small elephants, and these, by the voice of one of the party--a handsome, dark youth, in brilliant silk sarong and baju-- announced themselves as coming from the sultan to act as guides.

This changed the state of affairs, and the idea that there might be treachery afoot was completely dismissed from the minds of all, save when, now and then, the gleam of a spear head was seen amidst the trees in the jungle; and Major Sandars pointed out how easily they might be led into an ambush.

Captain Horton was by his side, and that officer agreed that it would be easy; but, at the same time, gave it as his opinion that the best policy they could affect was an appearance of full confidence in the Malay potentate, while they kept strictly on their guard.

Farther back in the line of troops Private Gray was marching along, feeling anything but easy in his mind; for as he glanced now and then to his left, he kept making out the gleam of steel, or the white garments of some Malay amidst the trees; and at last, just as Captain Smithers was abreast, he pointed out to him the fact.

The captain felt disposed to resent it as a breach of discipline; but the young man's manner was so earnest, that he nodded, and watchfully turned his head in the same direction.

"What do you think then, Gray?" said the captain. "They are only people taking an interest in what is, to them, a great sight."

"I'm suspicious, sir, by nature," said Gray, "and I can't help feeling that we are living on the edge of a volcano."

"Do you always make use of such fine language, Gray?" said Captain Smithers with a sneer.

"I beg your pardon, sir," was the reply; "I was trying to speak respectfully to my officer," replied Gray.

Captain Smithers frowned, and felt annoyed with himself for his meanness.

"Yes, yes, of course, Gray," he said, hastily; "but there is nothing to fear."

"Nothing to fear!" thought Private Gray; "and we are trusting ourselves entirely to these people, who are known to be treacherous; and the ladies and the women of the regiment are all on that island, protected by only a weak force!"

Strangely enough, Captain Smithers had very similar thoughts to these as they rambled on, in tolerable coolness now, for they were beneath the trees.

They both thought afterwards that their fears were needless; and following the guides, they soon after were formed up in front of the sultan's house and those of his princ.i.p.al men, all of which, though certainly somewhat better than the sergeant's account to d.i.c.k Dunnage, would have led any one to expect, were of an extremely simple and lowly character.

Here the officers waited for their audience of the great man, Mr Linton being particularly anxious to make arrangements for carrying out the political business, upon which he was engaged; but after waiting half an hour, one of the princ.i.p.al chiefs came out to announce that the sultan was too unwell to receive them.

The English officers flushed up, and looked upon the message as an insult, and for the moment there seemed a disposition to resent it; but the wise counsels of Mr Linton prevailed, and the order was given to march back.

Just then the young chief who had acted as interpreter before, and who spoke very good English, approached the place where Bob Roberts and the ensign were standing.

"I am very sorry," he said; "I meant to ask you to refreshments. Will you take cigars?"

They had only time to thank the young chief for his courtesy and take their places, as the march back was commenced--this time without guides, for none came forward, which was looked upon as so ominous a sign that extra care was taken, the men marching with loaded arms.

The precautions were not unnecessary; for they had hardly effected half their march, when there was the loud beating of a gong heard upon their right, followed by the same deafening din on the left.

The men were steadied in the ranks, and every one was on the alert; but still there came nothing more to cause alarm till they had arrived within half a mile of their landing-place, when, as they were pa.s.sing through a more open portion of the track, there was a shout, and a shower of limbings came whizzing past them. Again a shout, this time on their left, and another shower of the keenly-pointed spears whizzed by.

There was a short, sharp command or two as the soldiers faced outwards, and every other man fired, sending a ringing volley cras.h.i.+ng through the forest.

There was another din, made by the beating of gongs, and a few more spears were thrown, one of which struck Ensign Long; and these were replied to by another sharp volley, which crashed through the trees, making the twigs and leaves rattle as they pattered down. Then there was a dead silence, as the troops waited for fresh orders.

Bob Roberts, who was close by the ensign, turned pale as ashes as he saw the ensign stagger back, to stand literally pinned to a tree, in which the blade of the limbing had buried itself. All feeling of jealousy had pa.s.sed away, and, catching Long by the hand, he gazed earnestly in his face.

"Are you much hurt, old fellow?" he cried hoa.r.s.ely, as he realised the fact that the keen spear had pa.s.sed diagonally through the youth's breast before it buried itself in the soft endogenous tree.

"I don't know yet," said Tom Long quietly; "but the brutes have ruined my best tunic."

"Hang your tunic!" cried Bob, excitedly. "Here, fetch the doctor. No; help here to get Mr Long to the residency. Bring up a dhooly."

"I suppose I shall feel it when they draw out the spear," said Tom Long calmly.

"Do you feel faint?" cried the middy. "Here, who has a little rack?"

"Here's some water, sir, in my canteen," said Sergeant Lund. "Forward!"

rang out from behind just then; and then the voice of Captain Smithers made itself heard,--

"Who's that down?"

"Ensign Long, sir," some one said.

"Poor lad! poor lad!" cried the captain. "Ah, Long, my dear boy, how is it with you? Good heavens! Quick, my lads; bring up a dhooly."

"Hadn't we better get the spear out, sir?" said Bob Roberts, anxiously.

"Yes, out of the tree, of course," said the captain; "but mind--steady!

Here, let me. I won't hurt you more than I can help," he continued, as he drew the spear out of the palm, and then hesitated as to how they were to manage to carry the injured man, with the lengthy shaft pa.s.sing through his chest.

Tom Long solved the question himself by taking hold of the spear handle with both hands and giving it a tug, while every one present gazed at him with horror, expecting to see the terrible stains that must follow.

Bob Roberts dragged out his handkerchief and rapidly doubled it, ready to form a pad to staunch the bleeding--rus.h.i.+ng forward to clap it to the wound, as the ensign tore the spear from his breast.

"Open his tunic first," cried Captain Smithers; and he bore Tom Long back on to the ground, tearing open his scarlet uniform, while the injured object of his attentions began to work his left arm about.

"I say, gently," he said. "I don't think I'm much hurt."