Sandokan: The Pirates of Malaysia (The Sandokan Series Book 3)

by Emilio Salgari

  “What are you thinking about, little brother?” he asked soothingly.

  “The past, Yanez,” replied the pirate.

  “Never dwell on the past, Sandokan. It only makes you suffer. When are we going to set sail?”

  “Immediately.”

  “For Sarawak?”

  “For Sarawak.”

  “It won’t be easy. Rajah Brooke is a powerful man.”

  “As is the Tiger of Malaysia. Our men do not fear him.”

  “Are we going directly to Sarawak or do you intend to land somewhere up the coast?”

  “Neither; we’ll patrol the bay. We must sink the Helgoland before we set foot ashore.”

  “A wise precaution.”

  “You approve then?”

  “Yes, Sandokan, and—”

  The sound of the door opening cut him short. There on the threshold stood Ada Corishant, the Priestess of the Eastern Temple.

  “Here she is, Sandokan!” exclaimed the Portuguese.

  The pirate turned about. When his eyes fell upon the woman in the doorway, he let out a cry and retreated a few steps, reeling slightly, stopping only when his back struck the wall.

  “What a resemblance!” he exclaimed. “What a resemblance!”

  The madwoman had not moved. She stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the pirate. Then, without warning, she took two steps forward and whispered, “Thugs?”

  “No,” said Kammamuri, appearing behind her. “No, mistress, they are not Thugs.”

  She shook her head and slowly advanced towards Sandokan, who appeared fixed to the wall. She put a hand to his chest and brushed it lightly as if searching for something.

  “Thugs?” she repeated.

  “No, mistress, no,” said the Maratha.

  Ada drew back her large white silk cape, revealing a gold breastplate inlaid with large diamonds and engraved with a relief of a Naga, a snake woman with a coiled serpentine body. She studied that mysterious symbol, the mark of the Indian stranglers, at great length, then turned her eyes to Sandokan’s chest.

  “Where is Kali’s mark?” she asked, her voice changing tone.

  “These men are not Thugs,” said Kammamuri.

  The madwoman’s eyes flashed for an instant. Had she understood the Maratha’s words?

  “Kammamuri,” whispered Yanez. “What happens if you utter your master’s name?”

  “No! No!” exclaimed the Maratha as a look of terror spread across his face. “She’d faint.”

  “Is she always this serene?”

  “Always, provided she doesn’t hear the sound of a tarè or a ramsinga or see a statue of the Goddess Kali, or anything else that reminds her of the Thugs.”

  “What happens then?”

  “She gets terrified and she attempts to run away; it can take days for her fears to subside.”

  The madwoman turned and walked slowly towards the door. Kammamuri, Yanez, and Sandokan, who had overcome his initial shock, quickly followed after her.

  “Where’s she going?” asked Yanez.

  “I don’t know,” replied the Maratha.

  The madwoman had stopped just outside the hut. She cast a curious glance upon the trenches and palisades then walked towards the edge of the cliff, her eyes fixed upon the sea, watching the waves as they crashed against the reefs ringing the island. She stood there for a while, motionless, then suddenly she turned, laughed, and said: “The Mangal!”

  “What?” asked Sandokan and Yanez in unison.

  “The Mangal. It’s the river about the Thugs’ island. She thinks she’s still in India.”

  “The poor woman!” sighed Sandokan.

  “Do you think you can help her regain her reason?” asked Yanez.

  “I hope so,” replied Sandokan.

  “Are we going to take her with us to Sarawak?”

  “It would be safer. The British could attack Mompracem during our absence.”

  “When do you intend to set sail?” asked Kammamuri.

  “Immediately,” said Sandokan. “Come, we’ll go inform the men.”

  Kammamuri took Ada by the hand and led her down the steps. Yanez and the Tiger of Malaysia followed close behind.

  “What kind of impression did that poor woman make on you?” the Portuguese asked Sandokan.

  “A painful one, Yanez,” said the pirate. “I hope I can restore her happiness!”

  “She does resemble Marianna, doesn’t she?”

  “More than I could have imagined!” exclaimed Sandokan, his voice filling with emotion. “She has the same features. My sweet Marianna! Enough talk, Yanez, the suffering is unbearable!”

  They reached the first longhouses in the village, just as the prahus carrying the plunder from the Young India were entering the bay. At the sight of their captain, the crews greeted him with an enthusiastic cheer, drew their weapons and waved them in salute.

  “Long live the Tiger of Malaysia!” they howled.

  “Long live our brave captain!” replied the pirates in the village.

  With a single gesture, Sandokan summoned them all before him. There were about two hundred in total, mostly Malays and Dyaks from Borneo, men as courageous as lions, as ferocious as tigers, each one prepared to die for the captain they idolized.

  “Tigers of Mompracem,” he said. “The Tiger of Malaysia is about to undertake a bold expedition that may cost the lives of a great many of us. An Englishman, son of a race that has done us great evil, has imprisoned one of my friends. He is this poor madwoman’s fiancé; and she is the cousin of our beloved Queen of Mompracem.”

  A cry of anger filled the air.

  “Tigers of Mompracem, will you help me rescue him?”

  “Yes, Tiger of Malaysia, we’ll rescue him!” shouted a voice. “Who is the Englishman that has imprisoned him?”

  “Rajah James Brooke, ‘the Exterminator’.”

  The pirates roared with rage.

  “Death to James Brooke!”

  “Death to the Exterminator!”

  “To Sarawak! To Sarawak!”

  “Vengeance, Tiger of Malaysia!”

  “Silence!” thundered Sandokan. “Karà-Olò, come forward.”

  A tall man with yellowish skin, limbs heavy with copper bracelets and chest adorned with necklaces of pearls and tiger teeth, stepped toward the pirate, one hand resting on the hilt of a large sabre.

  “How many men in your band?” asked the Tiger of Malaysia.

  “Eighty,” replied the pirate.

  “Are you afraid of James Brooke?”

  “I fear no one. When the Tiger of Malaysia gives the order to attack Sarawak, my men and I will follow.”

  “You and your men will board the Pearl of Labuan. Make sure the prahu is well equipped with gunpowder and cannonballs.”

  “It shall be done, Captain.”

  “What about me, Captain?” asked an old Malay pirate, whose face and chest bore the scars of numerous battles.

  “You will remain on Mompracem with the rest of the men, Mayala; let the young embark for Sarawak!”

  “Yes, sir! I’ll defend our island for as long as there’s blood in my veins!”

  Once they had spoken with the leaders of the various bands and issued their final orders, Sandokan and Yanez returned to the great hut and quickly made their preparations.

  They selected carbines, pistols, scimitars and sharp, poisoned krises, hid several pouches containing millions in diamonds beneath their clothes, then walked back to the shore.

  The Pearl of Labuan, her sails raised, rocked gently in the roadstead, impatient to set off. Karà-Olò’s eighty men stood on deck, awaiting their orders.

  “My Tigers,” said Sandokan, turning to address the pirates who had gathered along the shore, “Defend my island!”

  The Tigers of Mompracem drew their weapons and raised them in salute.

  Sandokan, Yanez, Kammamuri and the priestess stepped into a longboat and were quickly transported to the ship. Once aboard, the prahu raised anchor and headed o
ut towards the open sea, sailing off to the cries of, “Hurrah for the Pearl of Labuan! Long live the Tiger of Malaysia! Long live the Tigers of Mompracem!”

  Chapter 6

  From Mompracem to Sarawak

  THE PEARL OF LABUAN, the ship with which the leader of the pirates of Mompracem was about to undertake his bold expedition, was one of the largest, most beautiful prahus to ever sail upon the vast seas of Malaysia.

  She weighed 160 tons; triple the weight of an ordinary prahu. Her keel was narrow, her lines quick, her bow was tall and sturdy; her masts were strong and fitted with large sails, the yards measured no less than 60 meters across. At full sail, she flew like a bird and could outrun the fastest steamers and sailing vessels of Asia and Australia.

  Nothing about her indicated she was a pirate ship. No cannons were visible on her decks, nor did she have gun ports or a large crew. At first glance, she appeared to be an elegant merchant prahu, transporting precious cargo in her hold, on her way to do business in India or China.

  However, had anyone ventured below deck they would have quickly discovered just what kind of merchandise she bore. Instead of carpets, gold, spices, and tea, her hold was filled with bombs, rifles, daggers, boarding sabres and enough gunpowder to destroy two tall ships. Six long-range cannons rested upon their carriages, ready to launch a barrage of cannonballs and grapeshot, as well as two large mortars, grappling hooks, axes, sabres and parangs, the preferred weapons of the Dyaks of Borneo.

  Once she had sailed past the numerous rocks and reefs that sheltered the bay, the Pearl of Labuan pointed her bow towards the coast of Borneo, or, more precisely, towards Tanjung[1] Sirik on the western tip of the vast Bay of Sarawak.

  The weather was splendid, the waters calm, a few fiery red cirrus clouds in the sky overhead. The sea remained clear: not a wave, not a sail, not a trace of smoke to announce the presence of a steamship on the horizon. Despite the light breeze, not a ripple marred that vast expanse of lead grey water.

  Once Ada had been made comfortable in the largest cabin on the stern, Yanez and Kammamuri returned above deck. They found Sandokan pacing back and forth, arms crossed, his head lowered in contemplation.

  “What do you think of our ship?” Yanez asked the Maratha, who had leaned against the stern railing, his eyes fixed upon the rugged coast of Mompracem that was quickly disappearing from view.

  “I’ve never sailed on a ship this fast, Señor Yanez,” replied the Maratha. “Pirates choose their vessels well.”

  “You’re right, my friend. There’s not a steamship that can keep pace with the Pearl of Labuan. If this wind holds, we’ll be within sight of Sarawak in a few days.”

  “Do you foresee any trouble?”

  “That’s hard to predict. The Pearl of Labuan is well known in these waters, and there are many cruisers out patrolling the shores of Borneo. Some reckless fool may decide to measure himself against the Tiger of Malaysia.”

  “And if that were to happen?”

  “Good heavens, we’d accept the challenge. Sandokan never runs from a fight.”

  “I’d hate to come up against a warship.”

  “They do not frighten us. We have enough sabres and rifles in the hold to arm a city, enough bombs to sink a fleet and enough powder to raze an entire village.”

  “But only eighty men!”

  “Do you know what kind of men they are?”

  “I know they’re brave, but...”

  “They’re Dyaks, my friend.”

  “So?”

  “They’re headhunters; fearless warriors.”

  “Headhunters?”

  “Yes, my friend. Dyaks. They live in the vast jungles of Borneo and are renowned for their fighting skills. They’re quite formidable, I assure you.”

  “And dangerous as well. What if one night they decided to turn on you and take your head?”

  “There’s no need to be afraid, young man. They respect and fear us more than they do their gods. The Tiger needs but utter a word, just give them a glance, and they become as gentle as little lambs.”

  “When do you think we’ll reach Sarawak?”

  “In five days, barring no surprises.”

  “Storms?”

  The Portuguese shrugged.

  “With Sandokan at the tiller, the Pearl of Labuan could brave a hurricane. Our only real annoyance would be the sudden appearance of a cruiser.”

  “Are there many?”

  “They sprout up all over like poisonous weeds. The Portuguese, British, Dutch and Spanish have all pledged war against piracy. A war they’ll fight to the death.”

  “And so one day the pirates will disappear from these waters.”

  “Unlikely!” exclaimed Yanez, with deep conviction. “Piracy will last for as long as there are Malays on this Earth.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The people of Malaysia do not have the slightest inclination to accept ‘the blessings’ of European civilization. Malay pirates have been around for several centuries and will exist for many more. It’s a bloody trade, passed on from father to son. They’re expert in theft, battle, looting and killing, terrible trades to be sure, but trades that keep them fed and allow them to survive.”

  “But surely the constant battles must affect their numbers?”

  “Not much, Kammamuri, not much! Malays multiply like insects. When one dies, another is born and the son is no less brave nor less bloodthirsty than the father.”

  “Is the Tiger of Malaysia a Malay?”

  “No, a Bornean of high caste.”

  “Señor Yanez, why has such a formidable man so generously offered to rescue my master? He’s never even met him.”

  “Because your master is Ada Corishant’s fiancé.”

  “Has he met Ada Corishant before?” asked Kammamuri, surprised.

  “No, never.”

  “Then I don’t understand why he would—”

  “Let me explain, Kammamuri. Three years ago, in 1849, the Tiger of Malaysia had reached the height of his power. He possessed a fleet of prahus, several cannons and commanded legions of ferocious Tigers. With but a word, he could make all of Malaysia tremble.”

  “Were you with the Tiger then?”

  “Yes, for several years by that point. One day, Sandokan learned of a beautiful young woman living in Labuan. Overcome by a desire to see her, he set off for Labuan, was attacked by a cruiser, beaten and wounded. His ship and crew lost, he struggled to reach the shore and the shelter of the jungle, where, after a dizzying run, he lost consciousness. He awoke... would you care to venture a guess?”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “In the home of the very young woman he had set out to see.”

  “Oh! What an extraordinary coincidence!”

  “Up until that day, the Tiger of Malaysia had been driven by vengeance. He lived for battle. But at the sight of that young woman, he fell madly in love.”

  “Who? The Tiger? Impossible!” exclaimed Kammamuri.

  “It’s the truth,” said Yanez. “He loved the young woman, she returned his love, and the two decided to run off together.”

  “Run off? Why?”

  “The young woman’s uncle was a captain in the British navy, a harsh man, violent, and one of the Tiger of Malaysia’s most merciless enemies. I’ll skip over the battles we fought against the British, the Tiger’s misfortunes, the attack on Mompracem, the narrow escape. In the end, Sandokan married the young woman, and the two retired to Batavia, accompanied by thirty Tigers and myself.”

  “And the rest of his men?”

  “Dead. All killed in battle.”

  “Why did the Tiger return to Mompracem?”

  Yanez did not reply and the Maratha, surprised by that sudden silence, turned his head and saw the Portuguese quickly wipe away a tear.

  “You’re crying!” he exclaimed.

  “Nonsense,” said Yanez.

  “Why deny it?”

  “You’re right, Kammamuri. I’ve seen the Tiger of M
alaysia, who had never so much as shed a tear, cry uncontrollably. My heart breaks every time I think of Marianna Guillonk.”

  “Marianna Guillonk!” exclaimed the Maratha. “Was that the Tiger’s wife? The Queen of Mompracem?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the Tiger said Ada was her cousin.”

  “Yes, Kammamuri, it’s true. And he promised his wife that one day he would go search for her in India.”

  “What happened to Marianna Guillonk?”

  “She was laid to rest ten months ago,” Yanez said sadly.

  “She’s dead?!”

  “Yes...”

  “And her uncle?”

  “Oh, he’s very much alive and still hunting for Sandokan. Lord James Guillonk has sworn to hang the two of us side by side.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “We don’t know. However, for a while now I’ve had this feeling of foreboding... bah, it’s foolish really; I stopped believing in premonitions long ago.”

  He lit a cigarette and began to pace the deck. The Maratha noticed that Yanez, usually so jovial, had suddenly become quite taciturn. Realizing he had drawn up painful memories, Kammamuri tactfully withdrew and went below to his mistress’ cabin.

  The wind remained favourable, growing in strength and increasing the Pearl of Labuan’s speed. She was soon advancing at seven knots per hour, and if she maintained that pace, it would not be long before she reached Tanjung Sirik.

  At midday, the Romades appeared off the port side, a group of islands about forty miles from the coast of Borneo. They were inhabited mostly by pirates, ready allies with Mompracem. Several prahus drew up by the Pearl of Labuan’s side, their crews filling the air with cheers as they wished the Tiger and his crew good hunting.

  Throughout the day, a brigantine and several Chinese junks were sighted off in the distance, but the Tiger of Malaysia, not wanting to risk his men in unnecessary battle and fearing that he would arrive too late to capture the Helgoland, did not give those ships more than a glance.

  The next day, as dawn was breaking, the crew sighted the isle of Whale, a fairly large landmass ringed by numerous reefs about 110 miles from Mompracem. A gunboat flying a Dutch flag was sailing close to shore, undoubtedly searching for some pirate ship, but when her crew sighted the Pearl of Labuan, she tacked and went off at full speed. Crewmen scrambled to arm themselves with long-range carbines then took position on deck while gunners rushed to a large cannon on her starboard side.