Sandokan spotted a ladder against a wall, leaned it against the window, and climbed up into a room large enough to accommodate a dozen people.
Though far from luxurious, a small band of castaways could easily survive there for several weeks while they waited for help to arrive. The furnishings were sparse: several hammocks that hung from the ceiling and an old dresser that contained some biscuits and salted meat. A stack of small clay pots stood in one of the corners.
Once everyone was inside, Tremal-Naik had the men take up the ladder to prevent any tigers from climbing up after them.
The two women and the three captains stretched out in the five hammocks; the six Malays lay on the ground, their weapons at their side.
The night passed uneventfully, the cries of a few hungry jackals breaking the silence from time to time.
The Marianna had already set off by the time they awoke the next morning. She had probably reached the mouth of the Hugli by then and been edging along the sand heads that stretched out before the muddy shores of the Sundarbans and act as a breakwater against the large waves of the Bay of Bengal.
A tiny ship was making its way up the river, keeping close to shore, driven forward by four oarsmen dressed in little more than loincloths.
The jungle, however, appeared deserted. Large numbers of birds, Brahman ducks and kingfishers, wheeled aloft in the sky above them.
“It’s as bleak as a desert,” said Sandokan, scanning the sea of tall yellow reeds from the top of the tower, his eyes resting momentarily on the rare tara palm or colossal neem trees that towered majestically against the horizon.
“This is just the outskirts of the Ganges Delta,” replied Tremal-Naik. “Those reeds hide a vast swamp that’s teeming with wildlife.”
“I can’t imagine why the Thugs would have their headquarters in such a forbidding place. The fevers must be deadly.”
“Yes. That’s part of the reason they feel safe here; no one would ever attempt an expedition across these swamps for just that reason.”
“The fevers won’t pose much of a threat to us,” replied Sandokan. “All the time we’ve spent in jungles has made us practically immune.”
“So if these lands are deserted, where do the Thugs find their victims? Doesn’t Kali demand constant sacrifices?”
“Kali never wants for victims. It’s not difficult to find the odd Molanghi who’s wandered a little too far from his village. However, they prefer to hunt along the roads in bands, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
“On Rajmangal I knew a man who preyed on pilgrims travelling to Benares: he had strangled seven hundred and nineteen people and that wretch, when he was arrested, said he regretted only one thing: that he had not killed a thousand.”[14]
“The wretch!” exclaimed Yanez who had joined them.
“Those dogs ply their trade all over India; thousands of victims are strangled every year,” said Tremal-Naik.
“Why do they strangle so many people?”
“Why? I asked a Thug that very question. “You find great excitement,” said the monster, “in attacking a beast in its den, in trapping and killing a tiger or panther; these actions do not put you in grave danger or require great amounts of courage. Think how much more challenging the battle is, when your quarry is human. You need more than courage; you need cunning, caution, diplomacy. You must prey on his passions and win his trust before you can draw him into a trap. Hunting beasts is just a game, hunting men an art.”
“The dog had already offered more than a hundred victims to his goddess... Bringing death to others is the Thugs’ most sacred duty, to them killing is a joy and to cause agony in a man they’ve trapped gives them immeasurable happiness.”
“So, they believe killing the innocent is an art,” said Yanez. “A wretched excuse to justify their crimes.”
“How large is their cult?” asked Sandokan.
“They estimate there are about a hundred thousand Thugs, spread throughout the jungles of the Bundelcund, Oude, and the Nerbudda Basin.”
“And they all obey Suyodhana?”
“He’s their High Priest,” replied Tremal-Naik. “Their supreme leader. No one would ever question him.”
“A hundred thousand men,” said Yanez. “Well I for one am thankful they don’t all live in the Sundarbans. Our men may be great warriors, but against such numbers we could do little more than summon the Marianna and set sail for Mompracem.”
“There won’t be many on Rajmangal, and I doubt Suyodhana would summon his followers if he were threatened. The government of Bengal is ever vigilant and whenever a Thug is captured, he is not spared.”
“Yet, they haven’t dispatched a battalion to kill the Thugs on Rajmangal,” said Sandokan.
“They have greater concerns at the moment, reports of rebellion in a couple of cities in Northern India. A few days ago several sepoy regiments shot their officers at Meerut and Cawnpore. Who knows, once the revolt is put down, they may turn their attention to the Thugs in the Sundarbans.”
“I hope we’ve destroyed them by then,” said Sandokan. “We haven’t travelled all this way to fail, have we, Yanez?”
“By no means,” replied the Portuguese. “Let’s go, Sandokan, I’m starting to have enough of this place and I’m dying to see our elephants.”
Surama and the widow had prepared some tea, having found a small supply among the provisions in the tower.
They drank a few cups then lowered the ladder and climbed down into the tall grass surrounding the shelter.
Three men armed with parangs led the squad, opening a path through the chaos of bamboo and vines as they began their march beneath the blazing sun.
Those who have not set eyes on the Sundarbans cannot begin to imagine its desolation. Even the most barren deserts are less sombre than those swamp-filled shores. Though covered by vegetation, they are far from lush.
That sea of reeds and parasitic plants is a pale, almost sickly yellow. It is quite rare to see a patch of brilliant green, for the beautiful mangosteens, peepals, neems, and dark leaved tara palms that abound throughout the plains of Bengal and Central India are a rarity in the swamps of the Sundarbans.
The plants grow to great heights with miraculous speed, for the ground is quite fertile; but they are far from healthy and they project a sadness that affects anyone who dares set foot among that chaos of vegetation.
The dangers are many. Serpents, tigers, rhinoceroses and crocodiles abound, but the most lethal lurks almost undetected beneath the calamus and reeds. Cholera and malaria thrive in the humidity, at times spreading up the river and ravaging the population of Calcutta with incredible speed.
Though the local Molanghis are somewhat immune, once exposed a European unused to those climates will die within a few hours. The Thugs use this to their advantage, building their lairs deep in the jungle, safe from government troops.
The small but determined squad, led by Tremal-Naik, advanced slowly through the vegetation, opening a path with their parangs and kampilans, not having found so much as a tiny game trail that stretched out from the shelter.
Accustomed to wielding their heavy blades, the Malays hacked away without pause, unaffected by the burning sun and the deadly miasma rising from the muddy ground. Immense reeds fell with every blow as they cleared a path for the women and their captains. Sandokan and Yanez kept a steady eye on their surroundings, knowing that a tiger could appear before them at any moment.
Twice the scent of those dangerous beasts had reached their noses; however, the tigers remained hidden, weary perhaps of the large band of men and the shiny barrels of their carbines.
With each step forward, the vegetation grew thicker, testing the Malays’ strength and patience.
A sea of reeds, entwined in vines and creepers, stretched before them in thick endless rows. At times large pools of sallow water would block their advance, forcing them to retrace their steps and open another path.
The heat was stifling, sweat dripped f
rom every brow, Yanez in particular finding it almost unbearable.
“I prefer the forests of Borneo,” he exclaimed at one point, his clothes drenched with perspiration. “I’ve never sweated so much. These jungles of yours are hotter than an oven. How much longer to Khari, my friend?”
“It shouldn’t be more than another ten or twelve hours,” replied Tremal-Naik, who appeared to find himself quite at home in those surroundings.
“A fine state I’ll be in by the time we reach your bungalow. What a place the Thugs have picked! The devil take them all! They could have found a more hospitable refuge!”
“On the contrary, my dear Yanez, they feel completely safe here. Swamps, wild beasts, cholera and fevers that can kill a man in hours, they couldn’t ask for better guardians! They were wise to return.”
“And we’ll be roaming about these jungles for a few more weeks?”
“Once you’re sitting comfortably atop an elephant, you’ll have more than enough air. And—”
He fell silent.
“What’s the matter?” asked Yanez, drawing his carbine.
The Malays at the head of the squadron had come to a halt and crouched to the ground, listening attentively.
A path opened before them, wide enough for four men to advance side by side. It must have been made recently for the reeds that lay broken on the ground were still pale green.
Sandokan, who had been escorting Surama and the widow, was among them in an instant.
“Man made?” he asked.
“An animal of some kind, Captain” replied one of the Malays. “And it must have passed through here just minutes ago. Whatever it is, it’s big.”
Tremal-Naik came forward and studied several large tracks on the ground.
“There’s a rhinoceros nearby,” he said. “It probably heard our parangs and ran off through these reeds. Looks like it was in one of its rare good moods, otherwise it would have attacked us.”
“Where’s it headed?” asked Sandokan.
“Northeast,” replied one of the Malays as he checked a small compass that he had been carrying.
“Same as us,” said Tremal-Naik. “Well, since its opening a path, we may as well follow; it’ll save us some work. Keep your carbines ready, it could turn and attack at any moment.”
“We’ll be ready for it,” replied Sandokan. “Women to the rear; Yanez and Tremal-Naik with me. Our hunt begins.”
Chapter 12
The Rhinoceros Attacks
THE GREAT BEAST must have left just moments ago. Warned of the approaching men by the sound of parangs slashing through the reeds, it had gone off to avoid detection.
As Tremal-Naik had correctly observed, the rhinoceros must have been in an uncharacteristic good mood, for rarely do those enormous beasts cede the field. Confident in their strength and agility, and armed with a horn that can impale an elephant, they rarely shy from battle. Easily roused to anger, they attack with blind fury; nothing can stop their charge.
Though the beast could have returned at any moment, Sandokan boldly marched up the path, Yanez and Tremal-Naik following closely behind him.
The rhino was heading northeast, towards Khari, its powerful body flattening the vegetation before it, sparing the men hours of work.
Stopping frequently to listen, the three men cautiously led the way forward, fingers resting on the triggers of their carbines.
All was quiet; the path appeared safe, at least for the moment.
“Nice of it to clear the way for us,” said Yanez. “Our men will enjoy the rest. If only it were heading for your bungalow, Tremal-Naik.”
“It could spend the night in my stables,” laughed the Bengali. “We’d give it all the roots and leaves it could eat.”
“It’s still heading in the right direction.”
“Let’s see for how long,” said Sandokan. “It may not be so obliging once it realizes it’s being followed. If its mood changes, it won’t hesitate to attack us.”
They continued to advance, the Malays following fifty paces behind on either side of Surama and the widow, ready to protect them at the first sign of danger. They had gone seven or eight hundred metres when the bamboo began to thin. A deafening clamour soon reached their ears, the squawks and cries of a flock of birds splashing about in a pond.
“A clearing?” asked Sandokan. “Great, I could do with some air.”
“The rhino may be waiting for us there,” said Tremal-Naik.
“I don’t hear it.”
“They can be surprisingly quiet. Yanez, have three men draw their kampilans and tell them to prepare to attack the beast at the first opportunity. It may look invulnerable, but a slash to its tendons will bring it down.”
The Portuguese had just signalled three Malays to come forward, when the path suddenly opened onto a clearing. A pond stretched out before them, its sallow waters thick with reeds and lotus leaves.
Stone ruins lined the opposite shore, columns, arches and crumbling walls, perhaps the remnants of an ancient pagoda. Sandokan quickly scanned the shores then stepped back among the bamboo.
“It’s here,” he said, “I think it’s waiting to attack.”
“Let’s get a look at it,” said Yanez.
He dropped to the ground and crawled among the reeds until he reached the outskirts of the jungle. The colossus was standing by the pond, its legs half buried in mud. It was more than four metres long, one of the largest of its kind, almost as large as a hippopotamus.
The folds in its thick skin, impervious to the rifles of the time, made it look like it was encased in armour. Its small triangular head had sunk beneath its massive shoulders, and its sharp horn, no less than a metre long, was level to the ground, as if the beast were prepared to charge at the first sign of the hunters.
“An ugly brute,” Yanez whispered to Tremal-Naik, who had just crawled up beside him. “Do you think it’s waiting for us?”
“It’s quite likely,” replied the Bengali. “It probably wants to get a look at us before it decides to attack.”
“Maybe we should strike first. We’re within range; a half-dozen bullets might just bring it down. ”
“I doubt it, my friend.”
“Sandokan and I have killed several in the jungles of Borneo. Though I must admit, they weren’t quite as large as that one.”
“It’s hard to kill if it’s just standing there. Our bullets will barely scratch its hide. But if we can make it charge, the folds in its skin will move and expose the softer skin underneath. It would be riskier, but several well aimed shots would have a better chance of success.”
“I propose we circle the pond and leave it be.”
“Yes, a wise choice. We’ll head for the old ruins. Once behind those walls we’ll be safe from an attack and still be able to fire at it if need be.”
“Let’s hope it stays where it is.”
“If it doesn’t see us, it won’t move,” replied Tremal-Naik.
They quietly crept back towards Sandokan. The Tiger was discussing options with his men, trying to determine the best way to keep the two women safe in the event of an attack.
Tremal-Naik’s proposal was immediately approved. The ground about the pagoda was covered in rubble and massive stone blocks; if the rhinoceros did attack it would not be able to draw on all its strength for the debris would slow its charge.
Once assured the great beast had not moved, they retreated back into the reeds and silently set off towards the pagoda. They were about a hundred paces from the ruins, when they heard the rhinoceros sniff sharply at the air. The ground suddenly began to tremble as it galloped back towards the spot where Sandokan and his men had been standing just minutes earlier.
Yanez quickly took Surama by the arm and shouted, “Run! It’s attacking.”
That sudden command stopped the rhinoceros in its tracks. It turned and charged towards the bamboo like a train at full steam, its massive horn slashing through the tangled vines, the giant reeds snapping like twigs before
it.
The two women and the pirates ran desperately towards the ruins. They had just taken refuge behind the columns and large granite blocks when the rhinoceros emerged from among the reeds. It lowered its head until its horn was just inches from the ground, then charged with frightening speed.
Sandokan and Yanez, who had climbed atop the remnants of the old courtyard wall, waited for it to draw nearer then fired simultaneously.
The colossus, struck in one of the folds of its armour, reared up like a horse then charged towards the pirates with even greater speed. The old wall did not withstand the impact. The bricks shattered and the two men fell among the rubble.
Tremal-Naik, Surama and the widow, who had been watching in silence from atop an enormous block of stone, cried out in terror, fearing the two men had been killed.
A terrible roar came in reply.
The rhinoceros had fallen to the ground, its thick hind legs shaking desperately as streams of blood flowed from its severed tendons.
“It’s ours!” shouted a voice.
Almost at the same instant, one of the Malays wielding a parang dripping with blood, had jumped from the ruins and rushed to aid the Portuguese and the Tiger of Malaysia.
That brave man, seeing his captains in danger, had attacked the animal from behind and with one blow of his heavy blade had severed the tendons in the beast’s hind legs, wounding it fatally.
Caught by surprise, the rhino had fallen to the ground, filling the air with a frightening roar. Within minutes, it was back on its feet. The pause, however, was long enough for Sandokan, Yanez and the Malay to take shelter behind an enormous rock.
Once their leaders were safe, the men opened fire.
Wounded and crippled, the great beast circled in distress, roaring deafeningly, then stumbled into the pond, its tracks marked with blood.
It struggled in torment for several minutes, reddening the waters as it tried to stem the pain from its wounds, then it gathered its strength and turned back towards the shore, took two steps and crashed heavily among the reeds.
Sandokan: The Two Tigers (The Sandokan Series Book 4) Page 9
