by Porter Hill
Studying the trio through the glass, Cheng-So Gilbert said, ‘They want to parley.’
Horne ordered Jingee, ‘Get me my speaking trumpet.’
The Tamil reappeared on the quarter-deck in only a few minutes, handing the trumpet to Horne as a man rose in the canoe across the water and called in a clear, resonant voice.
Cheng-So Gilbert listened and turned to Horne. ‘He wants to talk to the nakhoda, the captain of the ship. He speaks the Bugis tongue of the Sulu.’
‘Ask them to identify themselves,’ said Horne. ‘Where they come from. What they want from us.’
Cheng-So Gilbert took the speaking trumpet and, holding the small ivory circle to his cherubic lips, called across the waves in a voice which sounded shrill in comparison with the deep tone of the Sulu spokesman.
Listening to the reply, Cheng-So Gilbert turned back to Horne. ‘They are from the Sulu islands of Lanani. They are looking for a ship which attacked a village on one of their islands. They say the ship belongs to the East India Company. Its leader is English.’
‘Tell them we are also looking for an East India Company ship. Tell them that the ship we are looking for is called the China Flyer but its “leader” could easily have painted out the name.’
As Horne listened to another exchange of words, he saw by the increasing light of day that each prau had cannon mounted on deck and directed on the Huma. Thank the Lord he had not attempted an escape. The Huma would have been blasted to splinters and he and his men become food for the sharks.
‘They say we must go with them and speak to their chieftain,’ Cheng-So Gilbert reported.
‘Does he say where?’ Horne asked. ‘Ask him. Try to buy time with more questions.’
At that moment, praus were moving out from the end of the phalanx, surrounding the Huma in a breeze which had taken four days to appear. The Sulus had finished talking.
* * *
‘What have you got us into now, wilful woman?’ Jud complained to his wife. ‘I asked you for a breeze and you bring us pirates!’
Black legs wrapped around the topgallant yard, Jud clung to the rigging as the prau fleet sailed in close escort around the Huma. The crew had followed Horne’s orders to weigh anchor and catch the rising breeze, but their excitement had abruptly given way to trepidation in face of the gathering Sulu fleet.
Jud’s wife Maringa had been a household slave in Sheik All Hadd’s Castle of the Golden Sand in Oman. Since she had died giving birth to their son, Jud had formed a habit of talking both to her and to the dead boy, in moments of joy as well as in fits of desperation.
Maringa gave Jud consolation. She assisted him. Her spirit and that of their son were with him night and day. They watched over him.
In the days immediately following their deaths, Jud had become a thief, looting and stealing, leading a shameful life, until the authorities apprehended him and gaoled him in Bombay Castle. Later, he attributed his arrest to Maringa’s protective eye; it had been her way of taking care of him, of putting him back on the straight and narrow path.
Maringa’s spirit had also led Adam Horne to Jud’s cell, helped to free him from prison and make him a Bombay Marine. Maringa made life as happy for Jud as it could be without her and their son.
But what did Maringa have in mind now? Why could she not just blow him a little bit of wind from Heaven and be done with it?
‘Perverse woman,’ he scolded at the sky. ‘Can’t you once give me what I ask for? Do I always have to suffer for it?’
Chapter Fourteen
A SULU ESCORT
The wind became so forceful throughout the morning that Horne ordered the sails to be trimmed to avoid overtaking the praus leading the Sulu escort. The native craft were swift but their mat sails made them less agile in a strong sea breeze than they were when it blew off the land. Careering across the silver-capped waves, they looked like fluttering brown sparrows escorting a mighty but graceful seabird.
The idea of breaking free from the pirate fleet tempted Horne but, mindful that the lead phalanx was a double-strong wall of Sulu praus, he suspected that the same notion had also occurred to them. To the north, south, and west, the single-file sentries kept their cannon trained on the frigate.
Yet he continued to toy with the idea …
Towards midday he noticed that six of the small tilt-sailed ships had fallen away from the rear escort. Where had they gone? Horne to nearby islands? Would other praus be taking their place? Or perhaps more drop away?
He also noticed a headland rising in the south.
Chart in hand, he asked Cheng-So Gilbert if the island was Borneo.
Cheng-So Gilbert confirmed that it was. ‘That distant line on the horizon seems so dark because Borneo’s coastline is dense with forest. They have few settlements there. I’ve heard the island referred to as “the land beneath the wind”. That’s because it lies below the path of the typhoon which blows from Japan.’
‘How populated are other parts of the island?’ Horne asked.
‘Borneo has no more than ten thousand people. They cluster mostly around the island’s north-eastern points. Traders and fishermen. In settlements called Saba and Tungo and Bandar.’
‘The Sulu Sea lies to the east?’
‘You are correct, Captain Horne. The Sulu Islands span the southern boundary of the Sulu Sea, like stepping stones to the Philippine Islands.’
The forenoon watch finished, Babcock, Kiro and Jud joined Horne and Cheng-So Gilbert on the quarter-deck; the three Marines listened as the Chinese interpreter described the local islands and talked about the diversity of their crops, ranging from tea to opium poppies. They were most concerned, however, about where they might be heading.
Jingee gazed northwards. ‘That’s the South China Sea.’
‘Canton lies up there.’
Jud pointed off the larboard bow. ‘So we should be heading that way instead of—’ He pointed east. ‘—that.’
Cheng-So Gilbert nodded. ‘If we had kept to our original plan, indeed, mister, we should be.’
‘But now we’re sailing between Malaya and Borneo?’ Kiro asked.
‘Closer to Borneo, mister.’
‘That’s Borneo you see to the south,’ added Horne. ‘But if they’re escorting us to the Sulus, we must go far beyond it.’
The Marines’ questions continued.
As he listened, it occurred to Horne that in any other circumstances this would be an ideal day: a few puffs of clouds dotting the blue sky; flying fish cutting across the bows of the ships; the wind capping the sea with silver foam.
‘The Sulus are a short people,’ Cheng-So Gilbert continued. ‘They have the flat faces of the Bugis. Although small they are very ferocious.’
‘With the reputation of being pirates,’ Jingee contributed.
‘Pirates and slave traders.’
The announcement woke Jud from his reverie. ‘Slave traders?’
Cheng-So Gilbert waved at the escorting praus. ‘The Sulus control the largest trade in the Orient.’
The Marines exchanged glances.
Gilbert continued, ‘Slavery was first introduced to these islands by the Arabs five hundred years ago. They came not only to capture the islanders but to sell slaves they brought from India and Africa.’
Seeing the Bombay Marines shift nervously, Cheng-So Gilbert urged, ‘Do not fear. It is very rare for Sulus to sell orang putih—a white man.’
‘White man?’ Jud beat his mahogany breast. ‘I worry about them selling a … black man!’
Cheng-So Gilbert hastened to reassure him. ‘No, no, no. Do not fear, mister. Do not worry. The Sulu Raja welcomes European ships. Nobody has anything to fear. The Raja will not take men off the ship of the great and powerful Honourable East India Company. Oh, no, no, no, indeed!’
Groot was not convinced. ‘What about the China Flyer? Didn’t that Sulu you talked to tell you that the China Flyer destroyed one of their villages?’
‘Yes …’ Cheng-So�
�s eyes were sharp and alert.
Gesturing to the forty-strong escort, Groot argued, ‘If this fleet went looking for the China Flyer and comes back home with us in tow, how hospitable is their Raja going to feel to the East India Company then?’
Horne interrupted. ‘Do not speculate. Do not jump to conclusions. Concentrate on what we know.’
To stop the men worrying about slavery, he asked Cheng-So what he knew about other islands, about the Philippines, Molucca, the Dutch settlement on Java. The Chinese translator gladly complied, squirming on his red cushion at having upset the five men.
* * *
Towards the end of the afternoon watch, the wind still held. Horne noticed that six more praus had dropped from the rearguard. Their disappearance convinced him that the time had come to voice his idea.
Sending Cheng-So Gilbert from the quarter-deck, he stood with his back to the main deck and asked, ‘Men, what do you think about making a break for it?’
Babcock thought he had misheard. ‘Try to cut loose from these bastards, you mean?’
‘It’s highly riskly, I know,’ admitted Horne, ‘and could cost us our lives. But I think we can do it. How do you feel about it?’
‘I’m for anything,’ roared Babcock.
‘Shhh. Keep your voice down. Behave as naturally as you can. We must not arouse suspicions by talking here. I’m certain we’re under constant surveillance.’
Babcock glanced cautiously around him. ‘Who from? Where?’
‘Perhaps every prau.’
‘Do you think so?’ Babcock was wide-eyed.
‘Absolutely,’ Horne insisted. ‘We must not appear to be making any plans, or doing anything out of the ordinary.’
‘What about the Chinaman?’ asked Kiro. ‘Can we trust him?’
‘It is my first instinct not to involve him in any plan. He might possibly warn or signal to the Sulus in some way.’
‘Why would he do that?’ asked Babcock.
Kiro answered. ‘To save his own skin.’
Babcock suggested, ‘Why not lock him in the hold?’
‘My thought, too,’ confessed Horne. ‘But I decided against it. We shall need him later in China. We must not alienate him and lose any help he could give us.’
He studied the three faces in front of him. ‘Before I begin telling you what I’m thinking, I want to remind you: the Sulus greatly outnumber us.’
Babcock whispered, ‘But have you seen how many cannon each boat has? One!’
‘My men can blow them to bits,’ Kiro said excitedly.
‘More important, what about your men, Jud? Can they work quickly?’
‘The men recruited in Madras are now as good as any crew from Bombay,’ Jud assured him.
‘The men will do anything to get out of this fix,’ Babcock put in encouragingly. ‘They’re all grumbling and scared about what’s going to happen to them.’
‘Before we start anything,’ Horne stipulated, ‘I’ll also have to talk to Groot and Jingee—if we are going to do anything. But it must be soon. When daylight begins to go, it goes quickly.’
Reminding the men that they were undoubtedly being closely observed, he began describing how a trapped seabird could escape from a multitude of attendant sparrows.
* * *
Horne moved from his conclave on the quarter-deck to speak to Groot at the helm. Explaining how Babcock, Jud and Kiro concurred with his proposal to break away from the Sulu escort, he said, ‘The move will be dangerous and I won’t proceed without total agreement amongst you men.’
Groot’s hands steadied the wheel. ‘I’d rather take a chance, schipper, than end up a slave.’
‘Slavery’s not something you yourself are likely to have to worry about with the Sulus,’ Horne objected.
‘I don’t want slavery for anyone, schipper—me or a man with black skin like Jud.’
‘Then you agree to chance a break?’
‘Aye, aye, schipper.’
Horne explained the plan to him and then moved on to Jingee in the forecastle.
Jingee listened eagerly and was full of praise. ‘Captain sahib, you are indeed brilliant,’ he exclaimed. ‘We would all be stupid not to try such a plan.’
‘I won’t act without every man’s agreement, Jingee.’
Jingee glanced guardedly at the crew. ‘These men, Captain sahib, will do anything to escape this—’ He frowned toward the praus in the side escort.’—this trap.’
‘Babcock and Jud assure me of the same thing.’
‘I can go now, Captain sahib, and prepare them for the move and they’ll do it. Believe me, I know, Captain sahib. I have heard them all worrying about what will happen to them.’
‘Do stress to them, Jingee, that the Sulus are most likely observing our every move.’
‘Count on their best co-operation, Captain sahib.’ Jingee promised. ‘They know the Sulus buy and sell men like animals.’
He hesitated. ‘Captain sahib, may I ask you your opinion on one matter that’s troubling me?’
‘Of course, Jingee.’ Horne hoped the question wouldn’t take long.
‘It’s about the Sulus. They claimed that the English ship fired on one of their villages. Do you think such a thing is true or do you think it’s merely their reason for seizing us?’
Jingee’s curiosity pleased Horne. He had been pondering the same question himself.
‘It is my opinion, Jingee, that such an armada would not need an excuse to seize one solitary ship. Especially since they found us becalmed, virtually helpless.
‘Secondly, we know little about the character of the man, Fanshaw, except that he’s certainly one to take chances and is most likely avaricious; probably not someone who shrinks from violent measures. Such a person could have done such a thing.’
‘Why would he have fired on the village, Captain sahib?’
‘My answer can only be guesswork. Plunder. Pillage. Fear of pursuit.’
‘So you think, Captain sahib, we are being made to pay for Fanshaw’s crime?’
‘Remember, we do not know if the man who supposedly gunned their settlement was indeed Fanshaw. But whoever it was, or why they did it, the Sulus want to punish some English ship for the act. I must confess, too, that I think they have good cause. But we have our own cause, Jingee,’ Horne reminded him. Patting his shoulder, he urged, ‘Let’s work well—and quickly—to make the most of our plan.’
The word continued to pass round.
Chapter Fifteen
BREAKAWAY
The brilliance of the blood-red sunset pleased Horne as much as the fresh wind. Perhaps the early evening’s beauty—coupled with the Huma’s submissive behaviour throughout the past twelve hours—had lulled the Sulus into a false sense of security. He hoped so.
The praus in both side escorts were close enough for Horne to hear laughter drifting across the water, and to smell the pungent aroma of smouldering charcoal. Were the crews preparing an early evening meal? Did that mean they were not planning to put into port soon, but would press on until they reached whatever Sulu island was home to them?
Aboard the Huma, Horne saw his men idling near their stations, waiting for his command. Kiro’s gunners lounged in small groups on deck, their eyes glancing nervously back to Horne for the signal to run out the guns.
Horne maintained his calm pose. Preparations had gone on so unobtrusively that he was certain even Cheng-So Gilbert had no suspicions of an imminent escape attempt. At the moment, he was below in his cabin, presumably recording the Sulu captivity in his journal.
Lingering by the rail, Horne smiled as he noticed that two more praus had fallen away from the rear escort. The Huma obviously enjoyed their captors’ complete and utter trust.
Cautioning himself not to become over-confident, he nevertheless felt more light-hearted than he had since leaving Fort St George. More pleasing than having decided on the escape was the fact that his Marines, and all hands aboard ship, had unanimously agreed with the plan. Every la
st man was willing to take a desperate step to avoid the threat of being enslaved. Besides, what was the point of living if one never took chances?
Babcock climbed the ladder. ‘All’s ready,’ he reported, voice low, eyes anxious.
Horne, clasping his hands behind his back, maintained his casual bearing as he made a last-minute appraisal.
The hands aloft were waiting. The gun crews looked from Horne to Kiro back to Horne. Jingee’s white turban bobbed near the forecastle.
Resting his weight on one leg, Horne looked over his shoulder for one last check on the escort.
Six praus lagged in the wake; the side guards were less than a half-cable away, north and south.
Horne looked fore. The lead phalanx had relaxed in formation, the first line lagging into the second.
Satisfied, he tilted his head back, filled his lungs with fresh air and said, ‘Babcock, this is it.’
Babcock chuckled, ‘See you on the other side, Horne.’
Horne faced the main deck, glanced momentarily to the left escort, and bellowed, ‘Wear ship!’
* * *
The men leaped into action. Hands raced for the braces. Yards swung in the wind; blocks screamed, and the deck reared from the fury. The helm went over with a lurch, leaving the wind rushing at the stern.
‘Man the lee braces,’ called Horne over the scream of rigging, eyes darting back to the jib boom swinging in the sudden arc.
‘Prepare to fire—’ he cautioned. ‘—at will!’
Kiro shouted the crews to their guns as Jingee dashed along the gun decks, fire buckets in both hands, followed by his barefoot brigade bearing water and sand.
‘Don’t go for a broadside,’ insisted Horne. ‘Fire at will. Fire at will. FIRE AT WILL!’
In the ship’s abrupt change of tack to the north, the larboard guns blasted at the enemy’s rear escorts; Kiro concentrated the starboard guns on the leading praus, four cannon alternating fire as the crew sponged and reloaded ball on top of round shot.
