On Far Malayan Shores

by Tara Haigh

  Bujang had selected a small clearing for them to sleep in. There was no question of lighting a fire, since that would be seen from afar. All the same, their meal of bread, dried fish and fruit was almost lavish under the circumstances – though they were forced to share it with a horde of ants.

  Ella felt sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not only did the ants refuse to leave her alone – though there couldn’t be a single crumb of food left on her clothes or her blanket by now – but the mosquitoes had evidently decided to eat her alive too. Yet once again, Bujang had come prepared. He planted incense sticks in the ground, just like the ones Ella had seen inside the Chinese temples in town. Four on each side of her rattan mat and another two at her feet produced a thick cloud of smoke, as well as a sickly-sweet fragrance that made it hard to breathe. But it worked, and the insects withdrew.

  Amar had already fallen asleep at her side, but not before reassuring her that they would make it to the east coast unharmed. His confidence and his close embrace made her feel safe, and her eyes gradually grew heavy. The sickly scent of the incense that turned their encampment into a Chinese temple dulled her senses. The last thing Ella noticed was Bujang’s outline, silhouetted against the moon. He was fetching water for the horses. Did the man never tire?

  The following morning, it had proven much easier to sneak past the second regular checkpoint than the first. The ground here had levelled off, and all they needed to do to bypass the two soldiers was to move around a hundred yards off the road into the protection of the forest, where they encountered easily navigable terrain. Half a mile later, they found their way back onto the road, and fifteen minutes after that, Ella realised they must be getting close to the village when they passed two Malayan farmers. Their water buffalo were drawing heavy wagons laden with large barrels, and they turned onto a path leading into a palm plantation. Evidently, palm oil was produced around these parts. The farmers hadn’t paid them any notice.

  From the top of the next hill, they could already glimpse the sea in the distance. Ella hoped they would reach Mersing without any further difficulties, and so it proved. The tropical jungle began to thin, giving way to palms and shrubs that extended into the village and right down to the shore. A settlement came into view with around one hundred small wooden huts, most of which were built directly onto the beach.

  ‘We did it,’ exclaimed Amar proudly. Ella shared his joy, but her thoughts had already turned to Heather. Had she managed to get this far too? What would she say to her? Ella’s uncertainty even dampened her delight at seeing a German freighter already moored at one of the two large landing stages in the small harbour to their right, ready to whisk them beyond the clutches of the British. A second smaller sailboat lay opposite the steamer, with just a single Malay on board wearing a captain’s hat. Perhaps that was the boat from Singapore that docked here every day, Ella thought. There didn’t seem to be a dedicated area for fishing boats here. The local sailors moored their boats to poles that protruded from the water all across the bay, or tied them directly to the jetties belonging to the handful of stilt houses along the shore.

  ‘The boarding house is on the edge of the village,’ Raj announced once they had reached the outskirts of Mersing. They had only a few hundred yards left to go, and until they found Heather, there was no point in going to the harbour to book tickets to German New Guinea.

  Just three blocks lined with houses, grocery stores and fishing supply shops lay between them and their goal. The boarding house stood at the end of the muddy street, and wasn’t much taller than the rest of the buildings in the village. It had a veranda, and resembled a row of interconnected bungalows. Ella guessed that there were seven rooms, assuming that the first part of the building was the reception. Three of them seemed to be occupied. Washing hung from a line in front of one of the rooms, while the door to another was ajar, and the table outside the third was laden with crockery.

  ‘It’s nice here . . . right by the sea,’ she said to Amar, concealing her mounting unease with small talk.

  ‘It isn’t luxurious, but it’s perfect for traders travelling through the area,’ explained Raj, who had heard her remark.

  Ella wondered why Heather wasn’t sitting on one of the small verandas and impatiently awaiting their arrival. Perhaps she felt it was unsafe and preferred not to be seen.

  Bujang slowed his horse to a walk and looked around. Without saying a word, he turned left onto a narrow lane that led towards the rest of the houses in the village. Ella felt sure that was purely a precautionary measure. He had been just as careful throughout the whole of their journey here.

  Raj was the first to dismount, and he took hold of the bridle of Amar’s horse.

  Ella wondered in which of the rooms Heather would be waiting for them. Why didn’t she come out? Was it impossible to hear when somebody was approaching? Perhaps, for the surf was loud enough to drown out all other noises.

  Raj entered the first building, which seemed to be where the reception was.

  Ella didn’t have long to wait, for Raj re-emerged barely a minute later. He was smiling – something he rarely did – and she took that as a good sign.

  ‘Heather is in the room at the far end. Number six,’ he said.

  A weight instantly fell from Ella’s heart.

  ‘Do you want to go on your own?’ Amar asked.

  By way of an answer, Ella reached for his hand. She could feel her knees growing weak. Heather and she had parted ways in anger, and she could still vividly remember their last encounter – the desperate screams of a woman who feared she would never see her sister again.

  Why couldn’t Heather hear the footsteps outside her door? She must have fallen asleep. Ella tried to peer inside the room, but a thin curtain blocked her view.

  She knocked at the door.

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ said Raj.

  Then she heard Heather’s voice.

  ‘Ella,’ she called from inside.

  Why didn’t she come to the door? Ella glanced at Raj and Amar. They both seemed to share her uneasiness.

  Amar finally opened the door.

  Heather was sitting at a table in the centre of the room and rose to her feet when she saw Ella standing in the doorway. She gave no sign of pleasure. Not a smile. Not a word.

  ‘Heather, is everything all right?’ asked Ella, who was so shocked by Heather’s silence and listlessness that she didn’t dare enter the room.

  But Amar did – and although Raj had said he would wait outside, he too barged past Ella and threw himself against the door with all his might. It flew backwards, but didn’t strike the wall – rather, it bounced back, followed by a dull cry. Lieutenant Bennett staggered out of his hiding place, and Raj instantly grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall.

  Bennett tried to reach for the gun in his holster, but Raj was too quick for him. He smashed Bennett’s hand against the edge of the doorpost and struck him down with his fist. The revolver clattered to the floor.

  Heather stood as if paralysed. She was trembling with fear. Before Amar could reach for the weapon, Compton emerged from the darkness of the bathroom, aiming his revolver directly at Heather.

  Ella’s breath caught.

  ‘Stay calm and nothing will happen to you,’ he said. ‘Give me the gun. Kick it to me,’ he ordered Amar, who hesitated but then complied.

  Compton squatted down, picked up Bennett’s revolver and tucked it into the holster on his belt.

  ‘The diary,’ he demanded.

  ‘It’s in one of the saddlebags,’ answered Ella truthfully.

  ‘Raj can go and get it,’ Compton ordered.

  Raj refused to move until Ella nodded at him.

  ‘You don’t appear to have a very high opinion of the British Army, Miss Kaltenbach. Did you really think I was so stupid? It borders on insult.’ He gave an unbearably self-satisfied grin. ‘I don’t know anybody who would only reserve tickets for a voyage to Hamburg. One either sails or one doesn’t
sail. And then our dear Heather . . .’ Compton ran his hand through her hair. Heather flinched at his touch and began to tremble like a leaf. ‘That’s the trouble when one travels as an unaccompanied woman – especially a white one. I merely had to ask at the harbour to find out whether she bought a ticket,’ he continued.

  Ella felt her rage mounting. It began to outweigh her fear.

  ‘Why are you doing this? How is my father’s diary any of your concern?’ she hissed.

  ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to ask questions,’ Compton replied arrogantly.

  Raj reappeared. He had retrieved the case and approached the governor slowly and carefully out of respect for the gun that was still aimed at Heather. But then he leapt forward with lightning speed, hurling the case at the revolver. The gun fired but missed its mark. Raj took advantage of the surprise and leapt onto Compton. Before he could fire again, Raj knocked the gun from his hand, and Compton fell to the floor.

  Ella was gripped with the same paralysis as Heather, who was still unable to move.

  Amar tried to reach the gun from the other side of the table.

  Raj and Compton grappled with each other. Compton briefly managed to free himself from Raj’s grasp, and he grabbed the revolver just before Amar. Then a shot rang out.

  Raj sank lifeless to the floor.

  Compton instantly aimed the gun at Amar, who froze and raised his hands.

  ‘I should shoot the both of you,’ Compton spat at them as he rose to his feet. The revolver veered indecisively back and forth between Ella and Amar. In the end, he opted for Amar. Yet just as his finger was squeezing the trigger, he suddenly gave a start. His left hand fumbled at his neck. A dart protruded from his skin, quickly followed by a second. It pierced his carotid artery, and a fine ribbon of blood trickled from the wound. He began to sway back and forth.

  Only then did Ella see the blowpipe poking through the back window. A third dart whistled into Compton’s neck. He had no strength left to hold up his gun, and sank to his knees, turning to face Ella as he did. His eyes bulging, Compton gasped for breath and reached out a hand to steady himself against the edge of the table, but to no avail. He slumped to the floor and his body began to convulse. It wasn’t long before he drew his final breath.

  Heather seemed to want to make sure he was really dead. She awoke from her trance and bent down over his lifeless body. Then her eyes filled with tears.

  Ella walked over to her and took her hand.

  ‘I never did anything to him,’ Heather sobbed.

  Ella took the still trembling woman into her arms. ‘It’s over, sister,’ she whispered in her ear.

  She had hoped that her embrace would soothe her. She could feel Heather’s heart pounding – could feel her entire body trembling too. Why wouldn’t she calm down? The tears continued to flow as she let go of Ella and looked her in the eye. Heather looked distraught.

  ‘I’m not your sister,’ she finally said.

  Now it was Ella’s turn to freeze. She glanced at Amar. Like her, he looked as though his world had turned upside down.

  CHAPTER 21

  The boarding house owner informed Ella that he had already sent his son to tell the checkpoints outside Mersing about the recent events at his establishment. That was dangerous, for Compton might have instructed his soldiers to keep a lookout for Ella and her companions, ready to arrest them. To her relief, however, the governor had travelled directly to Mersing by boat. Ironically, that meant they could have spared themselves the arduous journey through the jungle after all. And because there was no police station in Mersing, they had no option but to report Compton’s death to the only public officials in the area.

  Amar had tied up Lieutenant Bennett and locked him in one of the boarding house’s sheds, for it would take at least two hours for the soldiers to arrive. Now it would be Bennett’s turn to sit in the dock – but that was the least of Ella’s concerns right now. Everything she had hitherto believed had collapsed around her like a house of cards. The same was true for Heather, though she seemed to recover a little with every word she uttered as they walked from the harbour towards the beach at the end of the bay. Ella realised that Heather was finally unburdening herself of secrets that had tormented her for many years. At first, Heather hadn’t known where to start, but she decided to relate everything in chronological order, since her troubles had all begun with Jack.

  ‘You were right, and that was why I couldn’t stand to be near you any longer,’ Heather admitted at the start of the conversation.

  ‘So Jack was the love of your life?’ Ella sought confirmation.

  Heather nodded. A bitter smile flitted across her lips, but it no longer seemed to cause her pain to talk about him, for she continued speaking of her own volition.

  ‘We met at the harbour. He was a dapper officer – somewhat older than me, but I fell head over heels in love with him all the same, and he with me. My God, I’d only just turned seventeen . . . We had to keep our love secret. Only Mother knew about it. Mothers can tell these things. We had to hide it from Father. Everything went well for a few weeks. I was so happy, though we couldn’t meet all that often. You’ve seen our little love nest.’

  ‘The oleander house?’ Ella asked.

  ‘It was the whole world to me. Mother knew all about it and let us do as we pleased. I dreamed of marrying him, of going with him to England – but then, suddenly, it was all over.’ Heather gave a bitter laugh.

  ‘I fell pregnant with you . . . and from then on, he began to behave strangely . . . Wasn’t he happy? I asked him. “Of course I’m happy,” he said – he was just surprised . . . and then he was redeployed to India. We had no time to discuss our future . . .’

  Ella felt Heather’s hand tighten on her own. She could see that the memories pained her still.

  ‘Jack promised me he would talk to the governor, and that he wanted to return to Malacca, but he never came back.’ Heather had to pause for a few breaths before she could go on.

  ‘What happened?’ Ella asked.

  ‘His ship – it was caught in a storm . . .’ Heather continued.

  They walked on in silence for a while. Heather’s words had whipped Ella’s emotions into turmoil. It was incredible – at long last, she knew her real mother, and she understood why she had always felt so comfortable around her. Heather’s emotional outburst when Ella had spoken to her about her former love now made sense too. Ella could almost physically feel the pain that Heather must have gone through back then.

  ‘Father wanted me to go to a Chinese doctor as he didn’t want me to carry you to term, but Mother was against that plan. Women often die from such procedures. Then he made us promise we would send you to an orphanage. Father thought he would be ruined if it came out that I was carrying an illegitimate child. People would have asked questions. They would have said that I had seduced Jack, a high-ranking officer. Father was afraid of being shunned, and as for me – I was still practically a child. I was forbidden from leaving the house. Nobody was allowed to see me,’ Heather continued.

  ‘You were locked up for nine months?’ asked Ella incredulously.

  Heather nodded, with a heavy heart.

  ‘A Chinese midwife brought you into the world. It was the happiest moment of my life. Mother pleaded and pleaded with Father, and eventually he relented. She wanted to make it look as though they had adopted a sailor’s child, for charitable reasons. You can’t imagine how relieved I felt,’ Heather went on.

  ‘But then why did your father leave me in a basket at the harbour?’ Ella asked in a tremulous voice.

  ‘I knew nothing about it at the time. I only found out about it from your adoptive father’s diary. You simply vanished one night. The glass on the veranda door had been shattered. Father called the police, and they told me that somebody had abducted you. They blamed the midwife. She also assisted with births in brothels, and there is a trade in such children around these parts. They had me believe that you were stolen from m
e.’

  Heather could no longer repress her tears, but she rallied herself and wiped them from her face.

  Ella threw her arm around her and tried to keep herself from weeping too.

  ‘When you arrived at our house, I instantly felt a connection with you, but I couldn’t explain why. You made me so afraid with all your questions . . . but then at the harbour, when you argued with Mother . . . after that, I couldn’t stop wondering why you thought Richard was your father and had sent you money . . . Then, one evening, I saw Mother sitting in the drawing room. The safe was open, and she was holding the pages from your father’s diary in her hands. She was sitting like a statue staring at them. That was when I remembered that you had spoken of that German man, and how you thought he had blackmailed Mother. I waited until she fell asleep. She had no idea that I knew where she hid the key to the safe. I read the English translation of the diary, and that’s when I realised you were my daughter.’

  ‘Do you think Marjory was aware that your father abandoned me at the harbour?’ Ella asked.

  ‘I don’t know for sure, but I expect she did know – because of the monthly payments, if nothing else. Why else would she be so afraid of the truth coming to light?’

  ‘Perhaps she wanted to spare you any pain,’ Ella conjectured, although she didn’t mean to defend Marjory in any way.

  ‘I just don’t know,’ Heather repeated. She stared out to sea as she spoke, as though she could find the answer out there.

  ‘Mary might be able to help us uncover the whole truth,’ said Ella.

  Heather looked at her in surprise.

  ‘She hired a lawyer to investigate me, and probably your family too. I want to know the truth – every last detail,’ said Ella.