“Patan, come forward.”
A tall, muscular Malay dressed in a simple red chawat[2] stepped towards him, walking with the rolling gait typical of men of the sea.
“How many men in your crew?” asked Sandokan.
“Fifty, Tiger of Malaysia.”
“All good warriors?”
“All thirsty for blood.”
“Assign half of them to Giro-Batol the Javanese then have them board those two prahus.”
“Where are we going?”
Sandokan gave him a look that made the pirate shiver, even though he was the type of man who laughed in the face of enemy fire.
“Your duty is to obey, not to question,” replied Sandokan.
“Yes, Captain!”
The Malay quickly turned and walked towards the ships, followed by his crew. These men were bold to the point of folly who, and at Sandokan’s command would not hesitate to sacrifice their very lives.
“Come, Yanez,” said Sandokan, after his men had finished boarding.
They had barely taken a step towards the beach when they spotted a short dark-skinned man running towards them, a Negrito from one of the many tribes scattered throughout the islands of Malaysia.
“What is it, Kili-Dalù?” asked Yanez.
“I’ve just run from the southern shore,” replied the Negrito, panting heavily.
“And?”
“Good news, Señor Yanez! I spotted a large junk tacking towards the Romades.”
“Carrying cargo?” asked Sandokan.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Within three hours she’ll be in my hands.”
“And then you’ll proceed to Labuan?”
“Directly, Yanez.”
They stopped in front of a whaler manned by four Malays.
“Goodbye, my brother,” said Sandokan, embracing Yanez.
“Goodbye, Sandokan. Be careful and promise me you won’t do anything rash.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll be extremely cautious.”
“May that lucky star of yours protect you.”
Sandokan jumped into the whaler. A few quick strokes brought the tiny vessel between the two prahus.
A loud cheer erupted from the shore.
“Long live the Tiger of Malaysia!”
“Take us out!” commanded the pirate, addressing the two crews.
Two teams of pirates raised the anchors. The ships tacked and sailed out of the bay and into the azure waters of the South China Sea.
“Your orders, Captain?” asked Patan.
“Set a course for the Romades,” Sandokan replied. He turned to face the crews of both ships and shouted one final order. “Men, keep your eyes open; we have a junk to plunder!”
A good wind was blowing from the southwest, the sea was calm, and the prahus quickly cut through the water. Soon they were sailing at more than twelve knots, faster than most sail boats, but not at all uncommon for light Malay vessels equipped with narrow hulls and immense sails.
The two ships were not typical prahus, which are ordinarily small and without a bridge. Unrivalled seamen, Sandokan and Yanez had modified all their vessels, making them faster and more powerful, giving them an advantage over any ship in those waters.
They had kept the immense sails, whose length approached forty metres, as well as the masts, that although large, had a certain elasticity; and the rigging, made of gamuti and rattan, was stronger than rope and easier to replace; however, they had given their ships greater bulk, a faster keel, and an almost indestructible bow. They had ordered oar holes and a bridge added to every ship and had one of the two rudders and the outrigger removed to make boarding enemy vessels easier.
Though the two prahus were still a great distance from the Romades, the pirates immediately began to prepare for the upcoming battle. The cannons and large swivel guns were loaded with the greatest care. Large quantities of cannonballs and grenades were piled onto the deck; rifles, axes and cutlasses were laid out and the grappling hooks were placed on the bulwarks, ready to be hurled at the enemy vessel.
When all preparations had been completed, those demons, their faces alight with anticipation, began to scan the sea, some from the ratlines, others from the bulwarks and from astraddle the yardarm. All were anxious to spot the junk for she promised a rich haul, as did most vessels that set sail from the harbours of China.
Sandokan shared his men’s restlessness. He paced from bow to stern, scanning the water without pause, his hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar.
By ten that morning, Mompracem had disappeared from sight. The sea, however, remained deserted; not a reef, nor a billow of smoke or a speck in the distance to signal the presence of a ship. Impatience began to spread among the two crews. Cursing all the while, the men milled about the rifle batteries and clambered up and down the rigging, the blades of their scimitars and poisoned krises flashing in the sun. Then, a few minutes after midday, a voice shouted from atop the mainmast, “Ship to leeward!”
Sandokan stopped. He glanced at the bridge then turned his eyes towards the vessel commanded by Giro-Batol.
“Battle stations!” he thundered.
Instantly the pirates hanging from the mast scrambled down and took their places on deck.
“Pagkon,” said Sandokan, turning to the lone man who had remained on the mainmast. “What do you see?”
“A sail, Tiger.”
“Our junk?”
“It’s a junk, I’m sure of it.”
“I would have preferred a European ship,” Sandokan murmured with a frown. “I bear no hatred for the Celestials.”
He began to pace again.
A half hour passed, during which the two prahus increased their speed by five knots then Pagkon’s voice rang out once more.
“Captain, they’ve sighted us!” he shouted. “They’re trying to get away.”
“Ah!” Sandokan exclaimed. “Giro-Batol, cut off their escape!”
The two prahus quickly parted, moving to attack the merchant ship from both sides. Their prey was one of those heavy vessels typically found plying the waters of the South China Sea. At the sight of those two suspicious ships, the junk’s crew, knowing they could not outrun them, stopped their vessel and hoisted a large flag.
Sandokan rushed to the bulwark.
“Rajah Brooke’s emblem!” he exclaimed with hatred. “So they’re friends with the Exterminator! Men! Attack! Attack!”
A furious cry erupted from the crews of the two attacking ships, all familiar with the celebrated Englishman James Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak, merciless enemy of all pirates in those waters. Patan leaped to the bow cannon as the others quickly aimed their rifles and loaded their carbines.
“Shall we begin?” he asked Sandokan.
“Make every shot count.”
“Yes, Captain.”
A blast thundered from the junk, and a small calibre cannonball whistled through the prahu’s sails. Patan aimed his cannon and fired. The junk’s mainmast, severed at its base, crashed to the deck, dragging down sails and rigging. Sandokan and his men watched as the crew ran frantically along the vessel’s bulwarks and disappeared from sight.
“Patan! Over there!” shouted Pagkon.
A small rowboat, manned by six men, had been lowered from the junk and was heading towards the Romades.
“Ah!” Sandokan exclaimed angrily. “Men who would rather flee than fight! Patan, fire on those cowards!”
The Malay sprayed the water with a cloud of bullets, sinking the rowboat and instantly killing all those aboard.
“Well done, Patan!” shouted Sandokan. “And now raze that ship and whatever remains of her crew. If there’s anything left of her after the battle, we’ll send her off with our compliments to one of the Rajah’s shipyards for repairs.”
The two pirate ships resumed their infernal music, showering the junk with cannonballs, grenades and torrents of bullets, destroying her foremast and smashing in her bulwarks. Cannonballs and bullets sliced through her rigging,
killing sailors desperately trying to defend her with nothing but their rifles.
“Well done!” exclaimed Sandokan, admiring the courage of those few men who had remained aboard the junk. “Fire! Fire! You are worthy adversaries for the Tiger of Malaysia!”
Cannons thundering, the two pirate ships, engulfed in thick black clouds of smoke, continued to advance, quickly trapping the junk between them.
“Tiller leeward!” yelled Sandokan, drawing his scimitar.
The grappling hooks’ iron grip quickly bound his ship to the merchant vessel’s port side.
“Attack!” thundered the terrible pirate.
He drew back and was about to spring board the vessel, like a tiger pouncing on its prey, when he felt himself held back by a powerful arm. He turned, howling in fury, but the man who had dared to restrain him had already leaped forward to block his step.
“Pagkon!” shouted Sandokan, raising his scimitar.
A rifle thundered from the junk and poor Pagkon fell to the deck, shot through the heart.
“You shielded me… a noble sacrifice!” said Sandokan. “Thank you, my friend!”
He charged forward like an angered bull, grabbed onto the mouth of a cannon, climbed onto the junk’s bridge and jumped among the combatants with the recklessness that was the admiration of all. The merchant ship’s entire crew sped towards him to block his advance.
“To me, my Tigers!” he shouted, as he knocked down two men with the blunt side of his scimitar.
Ten or twelve pirates, who had been hanging from the rigging, jumped over the bulwarks and landed on deck, just as the second prahu launched her grapples.
“Surrender!” commanded the Tiger, eyeing his enemy.
Faced with the prospect of fending off a second attack, the eight surviving men threw down their arms.
“Where’s the captain?” asked Sandokan.
“Here,” replied a Chinese man, quaking slightly as he came forward.
“You’re brave, and your men are worthy of you,” said Sandokan. “Where are you headed?”
“Sarawak.”
The pirate frowned darkly.
“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Sarawak. And, what is Rajah Brooke, ‘the Exterminator’, up to these days?”
“I do not know; we haven’t been to Sarawak in months.”
“No matter, when you see him, tell him that one day I’m going to drop anchor in that bay of his and await his ships. Then we’ll see if ‘the Exterminator’ is a match for my men!”
He tore a string of diamonds from his neck and offered them to the captain of the junk.
“Take them. I regret having destroyed the junk you defended so bravely. These diamonds will pay for ten new ones.”
“Who are you?” asked the captain, bewildered.
Sandokan approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I am the Tiger of Malaysia. Remember my face.”
Then before the captain and his crew could recover from the shock and terror that revelation had wrought upon them, Sandokan and his pirates jumped back aboard their prahus.
“Course?” asked Patan.
The Tiger raised his arm toward the east, and with a quaver in his voice shouted, “Labuan! To Labuan!”
Chapter 3
The Cruiser
THOUGH DISMASTED AND battered, the junk was in no danger of sinking. The two pirate ships quickly pulled away and set a course for Labuan, the island home of the golden-haired young woman Sandokan strongly desired to see. The sea was calm and a good wind blew from the northwest, it was not long before the two prahus were racing at ten or eleven knots per hour.
Once the bridge had been swabbed, the severed rigging retied, and all the rifles and swivel guns reloaded, Sandokan ordered his men to give Pagkon and another pirate slain by a bullet a proper burial at sea. Then he lit a beautiful narghileh,[3] most likely acquired in an Indian or Persian bazaar, and summoned Patan before him.
“Tell me, Malay,” said the Tiger, giving him a look that would have made Satan tremble, “do you know how Pagkon died?”
“Yes,” Patan replied, shuddering at the pirate’s scowl.
“Where are you supposed to be when I board an enemy ship?”
“Right behind you.”
“Yet, you weren’t - and poor Pagkon was killed in your stead.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“I should have you shot for this lapse in duty, but you’re a brave man and I do not like to sacrifice courageous men needlessly. The next time we board a ship, you’ll lead the men on attack and have yourself killed.”
“Thank you, Tiger, for allowing me to die in battle.”
“Sabau,” yelled Sandokan.
A Malay with a gash across his face, came forward.
“You were the first to follow me onto the junk, were you not?” asked Sandokan.
“Yes, Tiger.”
“Once Patan is dead, you’ll assume command of his crew.”
He dismissed the pirate, walked slowly across the deck and went down into his cabin.
During the day the two prahus continued to sail through that expanse of water bounded by Mompracem and the Romades to the west, Borneo in the east and northeast, and Labuan and the Three Islands to the north, without encountering a single merchant ship.
The Tiger’s sinister fame had spread across that part of the world and few ships dared to sail those waters. Most avoided that area frequented by pirate ships, preferring to sail near the coasts so that, at the first sign of danger, they could head for land and attempt to escape with their lives.
As night fell, the crews lowered the large sails to protect their vessels from any changes in the wind, the prahus drawing nearer to better guard against sudden attacks. Towards midnight, Sandokan reappeared on deck just as they were sailing past the Three Islands, first sentinels to the harbour of Labuan.
He appeared agitated and paced from bow to stern, arms crossed, walking in fierce silence. Occasionally, he would stop and examine the dark surface of the sea, climbing onto the bulwarks to get a better view of the horizon. Then standing still, he would listen for the gurgle of a cruiser’s engine or the sound of waves crashing on the shores of Labuan. At three in the morning, as the stars were beginning to fade, Sandokan shouted, “Labuan!”
A thin dark line had appeared in the east just where the water blurred into the horizon.
“Labuan,” the pirate repeated, sighing in relief.
“Should we maintain our course?” Patan asked.
“Yes,” the Tiger replied. “Head for the river.”
The order was relayed to Giro-Batol, and the two ships sailed silently toward the island.
Labuan in those times was not the important naval base it is today. It was occupied in 1847 by Sir Rodney Mundy, commander of the Iris, by order of the British Government, who wished to eradicate piracy from those waters. Labuan was home to a thousand inhabitants, Malays mostly, with a small European population of about two hundred.
The British had recently built a citadel there and named it after Queen Victoria, erecting large bastions to protect it from the pirates of Mompracem, whose past raids had devastated the coast. The rest of the island was covered by thick jungle ridden with tigers and, as a result, only a few farms had been built on its hills and plains.
The two prahus sailed along the island’s coast for several miles then silently entered a small brook whose banks were covered with lush vegetation. The ships sailed up it for six or seven hundred metres and finally dropped anchor in the shadow of several enormous trees. They would be well hidden there, invisible to any cruisers patrolling the coast.
At midday, Sandokan sent two teams of men to explore the forest and keep an eye on the mouth of the brook, so as not to be surprised by a sudden attack. He summoned Patan, grabbed his carbine, and the two men went ashore. They had gone about a kilometre into the thick vegetation, when the pirate came to an abrupt halt at the base of a colossal durian tree.
“Did you spot something?
” asked Patan.
“Listen,” Sandokan replied.
The Malay strained his ears and heard the sound of a dog barking off in the distance.
“Someone’s out hunting,” he said.
“Let’s get a better look.”
They resumed their march, the pepper plants, bread trees and arecas hiding their advance. The barking grew louder and minutes later the two came upon a dark-skinned man dressed in red livery, walking a mastiff.
“Where are you going?” asked Sandokan, stepping before him.
“I’m tracking a tiger,” the man replied.
“And who gave you permission to hunt in my forest?”
“I’m in Lord Guldek’s service.”
“Excellent! Tell me, have you ever heard speak of a young woman known as the Pearl of Labuan?”
“Who on this island does not know of the angel of Labuan? She’s beloved and admired by all.”
“Is she beautiful?” Sandokan asked.
“I’ve never seen her equal.”
The Tiger of Malaysia started.
“Tell me,” he continued after a brief silence, “Where does she live?”
“In a large villa, two kilometres from here.”
“That will suffice. Now go, and if you value your life, do not return.”
He gave him a fistful of gold and the man disappeared.
“We’ll wait here until nightfall then make our way towards the villa,” said Sandokan, sitting down at the foot of a large tree.
Patan made himself comfortable beneath the shade of an areca, keeping his carbine within arm’s reach. It was about three in the afternoon, when their rest was unexpectedly interrupted.
A cannon thundered from the sea and the blast echoed toward the coast, instantly silencing the birds of the forest. Sandokan sprang to his feet, carbine in hand, his face transformed.
“A cannon blast!” he exclaimed. “Come, Patan, I smell blood!”
Chapter 4
Lions and Tigers
LESS THAN TEN minutes later, the two pirates reached the bank of the brook. The wind had fallen somewhat and the crews had boarded the prahus to reef the sails.
“What’s happening?” Sandokan asked, rushing onto the bridge.
Sandokan: The Tigers of Mompracem (The Sandokan Series Book 1) Page 2
