Night?
Two large logs, which had suddenly snapped and then collapsed into the centre of the dying fire, roused me from another night’s sleep spent in captivity. I could not be sure of the time but the grey hue of the heavy sky indicated that it was still an hour or two before dawn. The sound from the fire had not, apparently, disturbed anybody else and since my bonds appeared to be unbreakable, I used these moments of silent solitude to acquaint myself with my surroundings.
A large makeshift camp had been erected within the courtyard of the decaying, complex of Hindu temples. The canvas, which had probably originated from British army issue, had been cleverly camouflaged with painted shades of greens and reds and the temple buildings themselves had been integrated into the camp wherever they had been sufficiently well-preserved to provide adequate shelter. Sadly, there were very few enough examples of these.
I was restricted from any further scrutiny of my surroundings by the impediment of my bonds and by the fact that the camp was, at last, beginning to stir. I recognized my two principle tormentors at once. They were both tall young men who sported untidy black beards and long dark kaftans. One of them, the stockier of the two, evidently felt some sympathy for my plight and he flung a large, pungent durian fruit into my lap as he passed by on his way to the lakeside for his morning bathe. This I ravenously devoured.
As a further group of men followed those two down to the waters, I could see that they were all similarly attired, and their loud, good natured camaraderie was evidence of a closely bonded brotherhood. They each carried a breech-loading rifle and ammunition belts were draped over their shoulders. I was left wondering for whom or what they were maintaining such high vigilance, and how much longer I was going to have to wait before I was to learn of my fate.
Once they returned to camp I was able to make out odd snatches of their conversation as they took breakfast around the rekindled fire. I understood that I was considered to be either a British or Dutch spy and that their leader, Tilat, otherwise known as the Giant Rat, would know what to do with me upon his return from his training in the mountains. As to the nature and purpose of this training, I could make nothing out. However, they speculated that my fate was not destined to be a pleasant one and they glared menacingly towards me as they let out yet another round of raucous laughter.
Any attempts that I made in striking up a stilted conversation were, at first, met with a stony silence. However, once I had managed to convince them of the dire necessity of my paying a visit to the lakeside myself, two guards temporarily released and escorted me, still brandishing their rifles, so that I could attend to my toilet. Although neither of them would divulge his name to me, nor the reason for their being encamped within the temple, I was able to glean some information from them on the way back to camp.
Although they were reticent in explaining their motives, they were more than happy to expand upon the subject of their revered leader. The man in whose hands my future wellbeing now rested was known as the ‘Giant Rat’ because of his extraordinary height and his ability in the monkey stance of the Indonesian martial art known as silat. I was familiar with this art as a result of my time spent in the Himalayas, the place of origin of nearly all of the styles of martial combat. However, the monkey form, also known as dangyat monyet, was a unique derivation that was based upon the movements of the poisonous Sumatran ‘Rat Monkey’.
It was all I could do to suppress my excitement when I learnt that the form’s principal weapons were a deadly strike of the palm and a razor-sharp curved blade known as a beladau! The ‘Giant Rat’ was an undoubted master in the use of both of these and he would soon return having spent several weeks in the mountains, in deep meditation and after further honing his unmatchable skills.
I felt it prudent, on my part, not to mention the fact that I already knew that I was in the hands of the Ghadah movement. Yet somehow, as I sat there for days on end listening to them talk, I began to realize that their aims were not those of a group set merely on a mindless quest for power. They wanted real political freedom for their people and would return to India to take it, once their associates were fully prepared.
Day?
My guards began to sense that I could understand much of their conversations and that I was becoming a sympathetic listener. Furthermore, I was able to convince them that I was no military spy, but an explorer in search of the secrets and mysteries of ancient Hindu history. In fact I was so successful in this respect that the next time I was led down to the lake, on our return I was shown through to another courtyard wherein was enshrined the legendary golden statue of a beautiful female goddess that had been transported from Southern India centuries before. I was in little doubt that she was a depiction of Laksmi, the goddess of fortune and the third deity to whom the temple had been dedicated.
I was further pleased to note that, when I was eventually returned to my position by the fire, my bonds were now to be left unsecured, although my guards maintained their armed vigilance. I was now looking forward to the return of the ‘Giant Rat’ and not viewing it with my previous dread. I would not have to wait much longer.
Day?
The return of Tilat could not have occurred under more dramatic circumstances. That evening another storm cloud had descended from the Barisans1 and by the time that Tilat had entered the camp we were being bombarded by all the powers of a fully fledged tempest. My custodians ushered me into their shelter from where we watched the deluge wash away much of the camp. As soon as the storm was directly overhead, every flash of lightning was met by a deafening crack of thunder that seemed to make the very ground beneath us quake. A thousand artillery units would have been drowned out by this assault from the heavens. Then, in its very centre, an awe-inspiring vision suddenly appeared.
This manifestation was framed by shafts of violent white light, which surrounded him. He made no movements towards us, nor we to him, for he just stood there, fully upright and unaffected by the elements, as if he controlled them.
The ‘Giant Rat’ was certainly a giant, for he stood at well over six feet five inches, the hood and crimson robe that he wore making him appear to be all the taller and more awe-inspiring. He glided slowly past us, glancing neither to the left nor to the right, as he made his way towards an inner sanctum that seemed to be reserved for his use alone.
Since I was now in such close proximity to my captors it was easier for me to detect that they now regarded me with considerably less hostility and mistrust than they had at any time since my unfortunate, initial arrival at their camp. As I began to settle down for a cramped and uncomfortable night with them, I could only hope that their leader treated me with the same generous disposition as they had done.
I could barely contain my excitement at the very mention of this description of the ‘Giant Rat’ and, in anticipation of an untimely and unfortunate reaction from me, Holmes suddenly sprang up from his seat and put me off with a warning glare. Collier broke off from his reading and regarded Holmes with some surprise.
‘I can assure you that we are rapidly approaching the final pages of what might possibly be the last words that I shall ever receive from my father,’ Collier commented sadly and apologetically.
Holmes waved the apology aside.
‘Before you conclude I am certain that Dr Watson has a specific question that he cannot wait to ask of you,’ Holmes suggested mischievously, obviously after having changed his mind about maintaining discretion in front of Daniel Collier.
I was so taken aback by the nature of Holmes’s surprising suggestion that for a moment or two I was unable to formulate a coherent sentence. I slowly filled and then lit up a pipe.
‘Please forgive me for the bizarre nature of my enquiry; however it might well prove to be of the utmost importance. Since your arrival in London have you been aware of anybody keeping you under surveillance and, more specifically, anyone vaguely resembling your father’s description of the “Giant Rat of Sumatra”?’ I eventually asked, somew
hat clumsily.
Collier did not hesitate, even for an instant, before making his reply.
‘I can state with the utmost certainty that I have not.’ Then, having noted the looks of disappointment on both our faces, he added, ‘However, that is hardly surprising when you consider that apart from a very short detour I came directly to your rooms from the station.’
‘I did not notice any belongings of yours in the hallway below and I am certain that you did not travel all the way up from Cornwall bearing only the clothes upon your back,’ Holmes suggested with surprising keenness.
‘No, indeed I did not. However, I have engaged a room for myself in a small, but comfortable-looking hotel just behind Russell Square and my bags are awaiting me there,’ Collier replied reassuringly.
‘That seems to be satisfactory, although it is imperative that you maintain all necessary caution and due vigilance upon your leaving our rooms,’ Holmes added gravely as he gazed dreamily towards the windows.
‘You think me to be in some form of danger then, Mr Holmes?’ Collier asked with surprising calmness, as I handed him a cigarette which he grabbed and lighted with much enthusiasm.
‘Suffice it to say, I do think it likely,’ Holmes replied in his customary inscrutable manner. He then summoned Mrs Hudson, to whom he entrusted a most urgent message before encouraging the confused Daniel Collier to conclude his reading from his father’s letter.
Collier was not alone in his confusion; however, Holmes was frustratingly reticent in divulging either the nature of his message or the meaning behind his dire warning. With a resigned shrug of his shoulders Collier picked up those crumpled sheets of paper that constituted his father’s final testament, for the last time.
Day?
By the following morning the storm clouds had all but dissipated and the large deep puddles that now lay all about the camp glistened with the bright morning sunlight that heralded the day of my meeting with the ‘Giant Rat’.
Their leader was held in such reverence that my companions strongly advised me to await a summons from him rather than to approach his quarters unannounced. They would inform him of my presence and the manner of my arrival in order to gauge his reaction.
This could well be some time in coming, as he had been troubled of late by bad news which had been filtering through from the mainland. Indeed, this news of further examples of British suppressions and arrests of leading figures from the Ghadar movement had been the motivation behind his decision to remove himself to the mountains in the first place. I would just have to wait.
For the first time since my arrival it was decided that I was not to be accompanied when I took my morning visit to the lakeside. I took this as a sign that I had at last gained the trust of my erstwhile captors and had, somehow, ingratiated myself into their group. This fact troubled me somewhat, for although I have never considered myself to be a jingoistic player of patriotic drums, I have always felt that I could not betray the country of my birth under any circumstances.
I decided to devote the remainder of the time that was available to me, prior to the expected summons from the ‘Giant Rat’, in deep meditation. I certainly had much to reflect upon as I was now questioning the true motives behind my continuing to remain within the Ghadar camp. There was now no question in my mind that I should be able to escape from there at any time of my choosing. Yet I decided to remain.
Should the opportunity arise, did I still intend to steal the beladau in the name of imperial stability? Was this purpose still important to me? More and more often my mind was going back to that day on the river when I tried to reflect upon the real difference between the lotus flower and the thorn, if indeed there was one.
I meditated upon these questions in so much depth that it was nightfall before I felt my shoulder being vigorously shaken by a lieutenant of the Ghadar. Tilat, the ‘Giant Rat’, was now ready to greet me!
My meditation had helped to prepare me for this meeting and how I might react to any decision that Tilat might come to. However, nothing could have really prepared me for the incredible presence that this man exuded. His simple room, which was constructed partly of canvas and partly of red-clay brick, was mutedly illuminated by two large candles in the far corner, and even the light from these was further dimmed by wreaths of smoke given off by a rack of sweet, pungent incense sticks.
The man in the centre of this sanctuary of calmness sat in the lotus position and graciously waved for me to join him in a space opposite him. With his cape and cowl removed and folded neatly behind him, he was now a man in a simple robe seated on a dusty floor. Yet the serenity that seemed to glow from every aspect of his noble countenance belied this initial impression. Seated before me he did not appear as a fearsome warrior, although he was that. Nor did he look like an undisciplined leader of revolt, although that was his reputation. This master of silat and leader of men was a truly enlightened being, seeking nothing more and nothing less than justice and freedom for his people and for his culture.
Of course I was not able to divine this much knowledge of the man merely from this initial introduction. Yet, after but a few moments of quiet conversation, I was able to reach an understanding of his nature. For reasons that I could not fully understand, Tilat had come to the conclusion that I was a man whom he could trust and empathize with. He told me of the reasons behind his past actions and even divulged much of his future plans.
You must understand, my dear boy, that under those circumstances and in the face of such an awe-inspiring presence, I could not have failed to respond in kind. As if in anticipation of my revelation Tilat reached inside a large, ornately decorated leather pouch and extracted the very icon that I had travelled so far and endured so much to seek and recover. It was almost as if he was inviting me to make off with it, if it was still my desire to do so.
I did, in fact pick up the beladau, but it was only because I wished to examine so remarkable an object under closer scrutiny. The beladau was shorter than a sword but longer than a battle knife; however its true length was hard to estimate because of the acute curvature of the blade. The handle was simply bound with red leather edged in gold. That the blade itself was fashioned from the same metal as the ‘iron’ pillar of Quwwatul Mosque was in little doubt. Despite its obvious age this too was displaying no indications of rust or erosion and the beautifully intricate engravings that it bore were as clear and as deep as they had been on the day that they were first cut. The fact that these engravings were also in Sanskrit with dedications to Vishnu was further proof, as if that was needed, of the beladau’s original source.
Despite its undoubted beauty, Tilat assured me of its deadlier qualities and said that when used by a man of training and knowledge it was capable of decapitating a human head at a single stroke. As to whether he had ever put it to that use Tilat would not be drawn. We continued with our conversation until well into the night, during the course of which I explained at length the original motivation behind my journeys to his camp. I explained to him that, whilst I could never provide him with any form of active support, it was now no longer in my heart to betray him either.
Mercifully Tilat accepted that, although I could not even speculate as to the consequences had he not. When at last I returned to the camp for the remainder of the night, it was with the assurance that we would continue our conversation on the following day. I must confess to having looked forward to that with some lively expectancy.
Day?
During my time in the Himalayas, apart from having been trained in the art of meditation, I was also given some initiation into the various forms of martial combats. I also discovered that the very roots of these lay within the ancient Hindu traditions. Therefore, on the following morning, I was somewhat disappointed to learn that Tilat, together with some of his men, had taken off into the highlands to confirm reports of intense Dutch activity in the foot hills of the Barisans. I had hoped to have learned more about the various forms of silat, more especially the monkey st
ance, known as dangyat monyet, about which very little is known in the west.
My companions informed me that Tilat was an undoubted master in the use of this form, which made deadly use of the palms and various weapons, including the beladau, and I had looked forward to improving my skills under Tilat’s instruction. I had to content myself, therefore, with a visit to a large wooden cage on the other side of the camp, which contained the rather unpleasant creature indigenous to Sumatra, known as the Rat Monkey.
The movements of this creature formed the basis of Tilat’s own and unique martial art form. Presumably he had acquired his name and fame from his association with this small but malevolent beast. It was kept securely within its cage because of the deadly venom that its bite was supposed to possess. Its appearance was as grotesque as was its reputation. From the back or sides it was every inch a monkey, yet it was its face that belied its simian origins. It was more sharply pointed and angular than any monkey that I had ever seen or heard of and its ears sat on top of the head like a pair of tufted horns. Its demonic similarities did not end there, however, for its large, piercing black eyes sent a chill through my body, whilst its small pointed nose and its vile gaping mouth with small sharp teeth completed this diabolical vision. I could not help but shudder as it turned suddenly towards me with its talon-like hand thrust towards me, the palm raised. I was certainly most grateful for the wooden bars that constrained it as I slowly backed away.
I decided that dangyat monyet must be a most deadly form indeed if that creature had been its inspiration.
Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rat of Sumatra Page 11
