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

by Emilio Salgari

  “Perfectly, Tiger of Malaysia.”

  “Now go next door to the priestess’s cabin, tell Kammamuri to barricade the door and not to come out until the battle is over.”

  “It shall be done, Tiger of Malaysia.”

  “Excellent, dismissed.”

  Hirundo quickly withdrew and went next door to deliver the message.

  “Do you intend to kill the captain and his crew?” asked Yanez.

  “No, I’d regret having to kill these men after they’ve shown us such generous hospitality,” said Sandokan. “We’ll force them to surrender.”

  The two pirates calmly finished their meal, drained the bottles of wine and gin, had some tea then stretched out on their beds and patiently awaited the signal to rush on deck.

  Towards eight, the sun disappeared beneath the horizon and darkness began to descend upon the sea. Sandokan peered out a porthole. He spied a dark mass towering towards the clouds off the port side and a white sail cutting across the horizon off the stern.

  “We’re within sight of Mount Matang,” he murmured. “Tomorrow we’ll be in Sarawak.”

  He approached the cabin door and rested an ear against it.

  He heard two people come down the stairs, a whisper, then two doors open and close, one to the right, one to the left.

  “Excellent,” he murmured. “The captain and the lieutenant have returned to their cabins. All is going to plan.”

  He drew his chibouk from a pocket, which he had rescued from his ship along with his pistols, his scimitar and his kris, lit it, lay down and calmly began to smoke. Time passed. He heard the captain’s clock chime nine, then ten. When it struck eleven, he sprang out of bed.

  “Yanez,” he exclaimed.

  “Yes, little brother,” replied the Portuguese.

  The Tiger of Malaysia took two steps towards the door, his right hand on the hilt of his scimitar. A loud cry thundered from the ship’s waist and carried over the sea.

  “Fire! Fire!”

  “It’s time!” exclaimed Sandokan.

  He opened the door and the two pirates ran towards the bridge.

  Chapter 8

  The Bay of Sarawak

  AT THE SOUND of that terrible cry, the engineer had immediately cut the engines, but the Helgoland continued to advance driven forward by the last turns of her propeller.

  An indescribable confusion reigned over the deck by the time the two pirates emerged from below. Crewmen tumbled out of the forecastle, half-naked and half-asleep, colliding into one another, as they scrambled groggily to their posts. The watchmen, no less terrified, believing that the fire had already grown to alarming proportions, quickly gathered the buckets scattered about the deck. The Tigers of Mompracem sprang from the hatches like a rising tide, pistols in hand, krises between their teeth, ready for battle. Cries, shouts, curses, commands and questions flew from all directions.

  “Where’s the fire?” asked one.

  “In the battery,” replied another.

  “To the magazine! To the magazine!”

  “Form a chain.”

  “Man the pumps!”

  “The captain! Where’s the captain?”

  “Man your posts!” thundered an officer. “Man the posts!”

  Suddenly, a voice thundered from the middle of the deck.

  “It’s time, my Tigers!”

  The Tiger of Malaysia rushed in among his men. He had drawn his scimitar; its blade glimmered in the dim lantern light.

  A ferocious cry filled the air, “Hurrah for the Tiger of Malaysia!”

  The ship’s crew, surprised and frightened at the sight of all those armed men poised to attack, scattered to the bow and stern, grabbing axes, sabres, planks and whatever else they could use to defend themselves.

  “Traitors! Traitors!” they cried.

  Krises drawn, the pirates were about to charge at those walls of men, but the Tiger of Malaysia stayed them with a gesture. The captain had appeared on deck and was bravely walking towards them, clutching his revolver.

  “What’s happening?” he asked imperiously.

  Sandokan left the group and went to meet him.

  “It should be obvious, sir,” he said, “My men are about to attack your crew.”

  “Who are you?”

  “In these waters I’m known as the Tiger of Malaysia, Captain.”

  “What!... Where’s the ambassador?”

  “There, at the head of a band of men, pistol drawn, ready to fire upon you, if you do not surrender immediately.”

  “Wretches!”

  “Steady, Captain. The pirates of Mompracem rarely allow an insult to go unpunished.”

  The captain took three steps back.

  “Pirates!” he exclaimed. “You’re pirates!”

  “There are none more dangerous.”

  “Back!” he thundered, raising his revolver. “Back or I’ll kill you!”

  “Captain,” continued Sandokan, taking a step towards him, “there are eighty of us, armed and ready for battle, you have only forty men and most are unarmed. You are not my enemy and I do not wish to take your lives needlessly; surrender, and I swear no harm will come to you.”

  “What do you want then?”

  “Your ship.”

  “So you can rove the seas?”

  “No. To do a good deed; to right an injustice.”

  “And if I were to refuse?”

  “I’d order my Tigers to attack; most of your crew would not see the dawn.”

  “This is robbery!”

  Sandokan drew a large pouch from beneath his shirt, showed it to the captain and said, “Here’s a million in diamonds, take it!”

  The captain froze, stunned.

  “I do not understand,” he said. “You have the men to take this ship, but you offer me a million pounds instead! What kind of pirate are you?”

  “A noble one,” replied Sandokan. “Do you surrender or do I give the order to attack?”

  “What do you intend to do with us?”

  “We’ll give you enough launches to carry your men and allow you to go on your way.”

  “Where?”

  “We’re not far from the coast; you should be able to reach it without much trouble. Make your decision.”

  The captain was hesitant. Perhaps he feared that once his men had laid down their weapons, the pirates would attack and slaughter them. Yanez, guessing the man’s thoughts, immediately stepped towards him.

  “Captain,” he said, “there’s no need to doubt the Tiger of Malaysia’s word. He has never broken a promise. He could have easily killed you were you stand, yet instead he made you an offer.”

  “Yes,” replied the commander after a moment’s reflection. “You’re right. Men, lower your weapons; the ship is theirs.”

  The crewmen, who only moments ago would not have wagered a penny upon their fate, cast down their knives and axes without hesitation.

  “Excellent,” said Sandokan.

  At his signal, two whalers and three launches were stocked with provisions and lowered into the water. Unarmed, the men filed past the pirates and climbed down in the awaiting boats. The captain was the last to leave.

  “Sir,” he said, halting before the Tiger of Malaysia, “you’ve left us unarmed and without a compass to guide us.”

  Sandokan removed a gold compass from a chain hanging from his shirt and gave it to the officer.

  “This will guide you,” he replied.

  He drew two pistols from his belt, removed a magnificent ring adorned with a walnut-sized diamond from one of his fingers, and offered them to the captain along with the large pouch.

  “These weapons are for your defence, this ring is a memento, and the purse of diamonds is to reimburse you for the ship,” said Sandokan.

  “You’re the oddest man I’ve ever met,” observed the captain, as he took the pirate’s gifts. “Haven’t you considered that I could fire these pistols at you?”

  “You’ll do no such thing.”


  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re an honourable man. Now go!”

  The captain saluted and went down into the launch. It immediately pulled away and rowed off, heading west, followed by the others.

  Twenty minutes later, the Helgoland was sailing swiftly towards the coast of Sarawak, which was then no more than a hundred miles from her.

  “Now let’s pay a visit to Kammamuri and his mistress,” said Sandokan.

  “I hope nothing has happened to poor Ada,” added Yanez.

  The two pirate leaders went below and knocked upon the priestess’ cabin door.

  “Who is it?” asked Kammamuri.

  “Sandokan.”

  “Did we win, Captain?”

  “Yes, my friend.”

  “Long live the Tiger of Malaysia!” shouted the Maratha.

  He quickly pushed away the furniture he had piled against the door and opened it. Yanez and Sandokan entered.

  The Maratha was armed to the teeth. He was still clutching his scimitar, and his sash was heavy with daggers and pistols. The madwoman lay upon a small divan, nervously plucking the petals of a Chinese rose she had taken a short while earlier from a vase full of flowers.

  At the sight of Sandokan and Yanez, she shot to her feet, her eyes wide with terror.

  “The Thugs!... The Thugs!...” she exclaimed.

  “They are our friends, mistress,” said the Maratha.

  She looked at Kammamuri for a moment, then sat back down upon the couch and resumed plucking the petals of her flower.

  “Did the battle cries trouble her?” Sandokan asked the Maratha.

  “Yes,” he replied. “She began to tremble, stood up, and shouted, ‘The Thugs! The Thugs!’, then sat back down and fell silent.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothing else, Captain.”

  “Keep a close eye on her, Kammamuri.”

  “I won’t leave her side.”

  Yanez and Sandokan went back up on deck, arriving just as a lookout sighted a red light far off to the south. It appeared to be moving quickly; the two rushed to the bow and carefully scanned the waters.

  “A ship’s lantern,” said the Portuguese.

  “Yes,” replied Sandokan. “And she could mean trouble for us.”

  “Why is that, little brother?”

  “She could encounter the launches.”

  “By the devil! That’s all we need!”

  “Bah, I doubt she’ll be able to match the Helgoland’s cannons. Wait... that’s a steamship. Look, you can just make out her smoke.”

  “Good Lord! You’re right!”

  “Man the cannons! Man the cannons!” thundered the Tiger of Malaysia.

  “What are you doing?” asked Yanez, grabbing him by an arm.

  “That’s the gunboat, Yanez.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive! This time we’ll sink her!”

  “If we fire at her, they’ll start shelling us as soon as we get within sight of Sarawak. If we don’t sink her with our first broadside, she’ll rush off to that scoundrel Brooke and report us.”

  “By Allah!” exclaimed Sandokan, struck by that reasoning.

  “We must remain calm, little brother,” said Yanez.

  “What if she picks up those launches?”

  “It’s unlikely, Sandokan. It’s dark, the launches set off towards the west, and unless I’m mistaken the gunboat’s bow is pointing north.”

  “Yes, you’re right I suppose, it’s just that spotting that damned gunboat again...”

  “Don’t let her trouble you, little brother. Let her head north in peace.”

  The gunboat that had been so stubbornly, but most likely unknowingly, following the pirates of Mompracem was by then only a short distance away. Red and green lanterns shone from her port and starboard sides, a white light from the peak of her foremast. They could make out the helmsman standing at the stern, next to the wheel.

  She sailed past the Helgoland, tacked, then headed north and disappeared, a bright, phosphorescent wake marking her path. Less than ten minutes later, they heard a distant voice cry out, “Ahoy there in the gunboat!”

  At the sound of that cry, Sandokan and Yanez rushed towards the quarterdeck and cast their eyes north.

  “The launches?” asked Sandokan, a note of unease in his voice.

  “I don’t see anything but the gunboat,” observed Yanez. “What shall we do?”

  “Advance cautiously and prepare for battle.”

  Sandokan remained on deck for several hours, hoping to catch another cry, but heard nothing other than the sound of the wind whistling through the rigging and the clatter of waves breaking against the side of the ship.

  At midnight, deep in thought, he descended into the captain’s cabin and found Yanez resting on one of the beds. The Helgoland sailed throughout the night, crossing the Bay of Sarawak, which grew narrower with each passing meter. The lookouts had not spied anything unusual, except once. At two in the morning, a dark silhouette had been sighted about 500 meters off the starboard side. It sailed past at great speed and quickly disappeared. They had thought it a prahu sailing with her lanterns extinguished.

  At dawn, the ship was forty miles from the mouth of the Sarawak River. The city was only a few hours march from the shore.

  The sea and the wind were favourable. Several prahus and a few jong rested at anchor; the lush verdant slopes of Mount Matang were slowly becoming visible to the west of them.

  Sandokan, ill at ease in that stretch of water patrolled by James Brooke’s ships, the self-proclaimed ‘Exterminator of Pirates’, ordered the British flag hoisted up the gaff as a large red banner unfurled from the peak of the mainmast. He had the cannons loaded, the battery stocked with bombs, and ordered his men to draw arms from the magazine.

  At eleven that morning, the coast was just seven miles from them. It was covered by a stupendous forest and protected by numerous reefs. By noon, the Helgoland was rounding the peninsula and heading determinedly into the bay; a short while later she dropped anchor at the mouth of the river, across from Point Montabas.

  Chapter 9

  The Battle

  THE MOUTH OF the river was a natural harbour sheltered from the fury of the sea by a series of reefs and sandbanks. Sago trees, mangosteen trees and groves of banana trees lined the shore; beyond them, bands of toucans and troops of Langur monkeys chattered and shrieked among the gambir, betel and camphor trees.

  Numerous vessels populated those waters: Malay, Bugi, Bornean, and Macassar prahus, large Javanese jongs with painted sails, heavy Chinese junks, as well as small Dutch and British ships. Some were unloading cargo while others awaited a favourable wind to raise anchor and set sail.

  Dyaks stood upon the reefs and sandbanks, fishing for their next meal, as flocks of albatross and frigate birds wheeled over the bay.

  The Helgoland dropped anchor in the middle of the river and Sandokan quickly scanned the surrounding ships. His eyes immediately fell upon a small, well-armed schooner three hundred meters up the river, anchored so as to be able to challenge any approaching ship. He frowned, muttering a curse beneath his breath.

  “Yanez,” he said to his friend, who was standing a few paces from him, “Can you make out the name of that ship?”

  “Sense trouble?” asked the Portuguese, raising his spyglass.

  “I’m not sure. Any luck?”

  “Yes. That’s the Royalist.”

  “James Brooke’s ship. I thought as much.”

  “Good Lord!” exclaimed the Portuguese. “A formidable neighbour.”

  “What I’d give to sink her... A few well-placed broadsides...”

  “You’ll do no such thing, unless she attacks us first. We must be cautious, little brother, extremely cautious, if we wish to free poor Tremal-Naik.”

  “You’re right, of course. Best be cautious.”

  “Look, there’s a boat approaching. Now who do you suppose that could be?”

  S
andokan leaned over the bulwark and turned his eyes to where Yanez had pointed. A small canoe was advancing towards the ship. It was manned by a native dressed in a red chawat[2] and a headdress adorned with feathers and a large toucan beak. Copper rings ornamented his arms and legs.

  “It’s a bazir,” said Sandokan.

  “A what?”

  “A holy man devoted to Dinata or Giuwata, the two gods of the Dyaks.”

  “What would he want with us?”

  “He probably wants to tell our fortunes.”

  “We have no use for his predictions.”

  “On the contrary; we’ll receive him, Yanez, and ask him about James Brooke and his fleet. He’s bound to have some information”

  The small boat drew up alongside the ship; Sandokan ordered a rope lowered and the bazir climbed aboard with surprising agility.

  “To what do we owe this visit?” asked Sandokan, speaking in the language of the Dyaks.

  “I’ve come to sell my knowledge of the future,” replied the bazir, his many bracelets jingling softly.

  “Spare me your predictions. I have need of information.”

  “What kind?”

  “Listen closely, my friend. I wish to learn a great many things, if you can answer my questions, you’ll be rewarded with a splendid kris and enough tuak to last you a month.”

  The Dyak’s eyes sparkled greedily.

  “Ask away,” he said.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Sarawak.”

  “What is Rajah Brooke doing these days?”

  “Bolstering his defences!”

  “Does he fear a revolt?”

  “It’s rumoured our former sultan’s nephew has allied himself with the Chinese.”

  “Were you in Sarawak these last few months?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you hear tell of a shipwreck not far from here? Her crew was rescued and brought to Sarawak.”

  The bazir fell silent.

  “A ship from India?” he asked after a moment.

  “Yes, there was man among them, a prisoner being transferred to the penal colony on Norfolk,” said Sandokan.

  “An Indian?”

  “Yes.”

  “I remember; he was rescued as well.”