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

by Emilio Salgari

  Escaping through the square was impossible, yet he had to leave the palace immediately. The danger was palpable. He froze, struck by a sudden thought.

  “That cry...” he murmured, turning pale once again. “It must have been... yes! Lord Guillonk! Sambigliong said he’d seen him leading a band of Dyaks in the very forest Sandokan was using as a hiding place... Yes, it must have been him!”

  He rushed towards the table and picked up the pistols. Though Yanez was determined not to kill Marianna Guillonk’s uncle, he would defend his own life.

  He went to the door and drew back the bolt. It refused to open. He pushed against it with his shoulder, but to no effect. A cry escaped his lips.

  “They’ve locked me in,” he said. “I’m trapped.”

  He looked for another way out, but there were no other options aside from the two windows that gave out onto the square. The rajah’s guards had not moved, the crowd continued to dance.

  “Damn party!” he exclaimed angrily.

  There was a knock at the door. He raised his pistols and shouted, “Who is it?”

  “James Brooke,” replied the rajah.

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, Milord. Alone and unarmed.”

  “Enter, Excellency,” said Yanez ironically.

  He stuck his pistol in his belt, crossed his arms and with head held high, calmly waited for his formidable enemy.

  Chapter 9

  Lord James Guillonk

  THE DOOR OPENED. The rajah was alone, unarmed, and still dressed in black; however, he was no longer the smiling, jovial host who had welcomed Yanez earlier that evening. His face had turned pale, not in fear, but in rage; his eyes had hardened, a frown now lined his brow and an ironic smile was slowly spreading across his lips. This was the face of the Exterminator, a man feared by every pirate in the South China Sea.

  He stood in the doorway for a moment, glaring at Yanez, then stepped into the room. The door immediately closed behind him.

  “Sir,” he said firmly.

  “Excellency,” replied Yanez, matching the rajah’s tone.

  “I gather you know why I’m here.”

  “Yes, Excellency. Please make yourself comfortable.”

  The rajah sat down upon a chair; Yanez leaned against the desk, placing his arm within reach of his kris.

  “Sir,” continued the rajah calmly. “Do you know what they call me in Sarawak?”

  “James Brooke.”

  “You have a sense of humour, I’ll give you that. They call me the Exterminator.”

  Yanez bowed and smiled.

  “A terrible nickname, Excellency,” he said.

  “I bear it proudly. Now, let’s put down our masks and talk.”

  “Very well, Excellency.”

  “If I were to land on Mompracem—”

  “What?” exclaimed Yanez.

  “Allow me to finish, sir. If I were to land on Mompracem and ask the Tiger of Malaysia or his lieutenant for hospitality and later they learned I was one of their most hated enemies, what would become of me?”

  “Good Lord! If you announced you were James Brooke, I imagine the Tiger of Malaysia or his lieutenant would order you hanged.”

  “Well, Señor Yanez de Gomera—”

  “Señor Yanez de Gomera!” interrupted the Portuguese. “Who says I’m Yanez de Gomera?”

  “A man who has dealt with you before!”

  “So I’ve been betrayed?”

  “I’d say you’ve been discovered.”

  “I want this man’s name, James Brooke!” shouted Yanez, taking a step towards the rajah.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “I’d force it out of you.”

  The rajah laughed.

  “You dare threaten me?” he said. “There are ten men behind that door, armed to the teeth, awaiting my order to enter and arrest you. You wish to know your accuser’s name? Very well, let’s have no secrets.”

  He clapped his hands three times. The door opened and a tall, elderly man with a long white beard and a well-tanned face stepped into the room.

  Despite himself, Yanez cried out in surprise. He had recognized the man immediately. It was Lord James Guillonk, Marianna’s uncle, a sworn enemy who had vowed to hang the two captains from Mompracem. Sambigliong had not been mistaken.

  “Do you recognize me, Yanez de Gomera?” his lordship asked dully.

  “Yes, Milord,” replied the Portuguese, instantly recovering from his initial shock.

  “I knew it was only a matter of time before I caught up with my niece’s kidnappers.”

  “Kidnappers? Lady Marianna left of her own accord. Make no mistake, Milord, she loved the Tiger of Malaysia.”

  “It matters not to me whether she loved or hated the pirate. She was taken from me, Lord James Guillonk, her uncle, and I will not let that go unpunished. Yanez de Gomera, I’ve been hunting you and that bloodthirsty pirate for the last two years. Do you know why?”

  “Sport, Milord?”

  “Vengeance.”

  “I told you, Lady Marianna was not kidnapped. What vengeance do you claim?”

  “Vengeance for the pain of depriving me of my only family, vengeance for the humiliation I had to bear and vengeance for the atrocities you committed against my country. Where’s my niece? Is it true she’s dead?”

  “Yes,” Yanez said sadly. “Your niece, the Tiger of Malaysia’s wife, was laid to rest in the cemetery of Batavia, Milord.”

  “Undoubtedly murdered by her infamous abductor.”

  “No, Milord. Sandokan, that bloodthirsty pirate you’ve been hunting for so long, will mourn Lady Marianna Guillonk for many years to come.”

  “Sandokan!” exclaimed his lordship with indescribable hatred. “Where is he?”

  “Your nephew, Milord, is somewhere in the forests of Sarawak.”

  “What brings him here?”

  “He’s come to rescue an unjustly condemned man who coincidentally is in love with another member of your family, your niece Ada Corishant.”

  “You’re lying!” howled his lordship.

  “Who is this condemned man?” asked the rajah, springing to his feet.

  “I cannot say,” replied Yanez.

  “Lord Guillonk,” said the rajah. “Do you have a niece named Ada Corishant?”

  “My niece’s mother had a brother named Harry Corishant. He was stationed in India and had a daughter named Ada, but this tale could not possibly be true.”

  “Why not?”

  “I learned recently that he’d been killed. His daughter disappeared years ago, kidnapped by the Indian Thugs. I doubt she’s still alive.”

  “Well then...”

  “As I said, the pirate is lying. He probably learned of Ada from my niece and concocted this tale to play upon my sympathy.”

  “Milord,” said the Portuguese, raising his head and looking the old man squarely in the eyes. “If I were to swear on my honour that I have told you the truth, would you believe me?”

  “Pirates have no honour,” said Lord Guillonk disdainfully.

  Yanez frowned as his hand ran instinctively to the butt of his pistol.

  “Milord,” he said gravely. “If you were not Lady Marianna’s uncle, I’d shoot you where you stand. This is the fourth time I’ve spared your life, do not forget it.”

  “Well then, tell us more. Perhaps I will believe you.”

  “As I said, the Tiger of Malaysia is here to rescue an unjustly condemned man, a man in love with Ada Corishant.”

  “Where’s my niece?”

  “With the Tiger of Malaysia.”

  “Where?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Why not?”

  “You would attack Sandokan and either kill him or take him prisoner. Promise me that you’ll allow him to set sail for his island, and I’ll tell you where he is.”

  “I’ll never make such a promise,” said the rajah, intervening. “It’s time for the Tiger of Malaysia to answer for his crimes; he�
�s bloodied these waters far too long.”

  “Nor shall I,” added Lord Guillonk. “I’ve been planning my revenge for over two years.”

  “Well then, gentleman, have me flogged, have me beaten, choose whatever torture you desire, I will not utter another word.”

  Unbeknownst to Yanez, two Indians had entered through the window while he had been speaking and silently crept toward the desk, waiting for a signal to attack.

  “So that’s all you have to say?” said the rajah, making a quick, imperceptible gesture to his men.

  “Yes, Excellency,” Yanez replied firmly.

  “Well then, sir, I, James Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak, place you under arrest!”

  At the sound of those words, the two Indians lunged at the Portuguese, knocked him to the floor and tore away his pistols.

  “Wretches!” shouted the prisoner.

  With Herculean effort, he pushed them away, but other soldiers rushed into the room and quickly gagged and bound him.

  “Should we kill him?” asked one, unsheathing his kris.

  “No,” replied the rajah. “He still has a lot to tell us.”

  “Do you think he’ll talk?” asked Lord Guillonk.

  “Without question, Milord,” replied Brooke.

  At a sign from him, a soldier left the room and returned a short while later carrying a silver tray upon which sat a glass filled with liquid.

  “What is that?” asked his lordship.

  “A special lemonade,” said the rajah, “that’ll loosen our friend’s tongue.”

  “It’s drugged?”

  “Just a bit of opium and a few drops of yuma.”

  “An Indian beverage?”

  “Yes, Milord.”

  At a sign from him, two soldiers removed Yanez’ gag, pried open his lips and forced the lemonade down his throat.

  “Watch, Milord,” said the rajah. “He’ll soon tell us all we want to know.”

  Despite his resistance, the prisoner was gagged once again so that his cries would not disturb the party guests in the nearby hall. Five minutes later, his face, pale with rage, began to change shade and his eyes began to sparkle like an angry serpent’s. Though he continued to struggle against his bonds, his movements grew slower and slower, until finally, they ceased altogether.

  “Remove the gag,” said the rajah.

  An Indian quickly obeyed. Yanez, who had been enraged just moments ago, began to laugh hysterically. He began to talk and his words came without pause; he spoke of Mompracem, the Tigers, and Sandokan, as if sitting among old friends.

  “He’s gone mad,” said Lord Guillonk, not hiding his surprise.

  “No, Milord,” said the rajah. “The lemonade induces laughter. It lowers one’s defences. We’ll have no problem getting the truth out of him now. Yet another of the truly remarkable discoveries I made in India.”

  “He’ll tell us where we can find the Tiger of Malaysia?”

  “We have but to ask.”

  “Yanez, my friend,” said his lordship, turning to address the Portuguese, “Tell me about the Tiger of Malaysia.”

  The chords that bound his wrists and ankles having been removed, at the sound of his lordship’s voice, the Portuguese sprang to his feet.

  “The Tiger?” he asked. “The Tiger... Ha! Ha!... The Tiger of Malaysia... Who hasn’t heard of the Tiger? Is it you, old man?... You? You’ve never heard of the Tiger?... The invincible Tiger? Ha!... Ha!... Ha!...”

  “Is the Tiger nearby?” asked the rajah.

  “Yes, right here, under the rajah’s very nose. And that idiot Brooke doesn’t even know it... Ha!... Ha!”

  “This man’s insulting you, Excellency,” said Lord Guillonk.

  “It matters not,” shrugged the rajah. “He’ll soon deliver the Tiger of Malaysia into our hands.”

  “Continue then, Excellency.”

  “Tell me, Yanez, where is Sandokan?”

  “You don’t know? Ha!... Ha! You don’t know where Sandokan is! He’s here, right here,” said Yanez, continuing to laugh.

  “Where exactly?”

  “Where? He’s...”

  He fell silent. Perhaps a flash of sanity had sharpened his wits at the moment he was about to betray his friend.

  “What’s the matter?” asked the rajah. “Don’t you know?”

  Yanez laughed heartily.

  “Of course I do,” he replied. “He’s in Sarawak.”

  “You’re holding back, Yanez; or perhaps you truly do not know.”

  “What? Not know!?! Ha! Me! Not know where Sandokan is... Ha!... Ha!... You’re mad if you think I don’t.”

  “Well then, tell me, where is he?”

  “In the city, yes, he must have arrived by now, he’ll dig up Tremal-Naik and then we’ll laugh; yes, we’ll laugh over how we faked his death and outsmarted that idiot James Brooke... Ha! Ha!”

  The rajah and Lord Guillonk looked at each other in amazement.

  “Faked his death!” they exclaimed in unison.

  “Yes, Tremal-Naik! The Indian Thug! He’s alive!”

  “Ah! The wretch!” exclaimed the rajah. “Continue, Yanez, my friend. When are they going to the cemetery?”

  “Tonight... and tomorrow we’ll laugh. Oh, how we’ll laugh!... Ha!... What a great trick!... Ha!... Ha!”

  “And Sandokan will be there?”

  “Yes, Sandokan, this very night... Ha! Ha! We’ll enjoy ourselves tomorrow... and Tremal-Naik will be happy... Oh! So happy, so happy!...”

  “That’s enough,” said the rajah. “We know what we must do, Milord.”

  They left the room and went into the study were the captain of the guards had been waiting. He was a tall handsome Indian of proven courage and cunning, one of James Brooke’s old companions at arms.

  “Kallooth,” said the rajah. “How many men do you have at your disposal?”

  “Sixty Indians,” replied the captain.

  “Assemble them all. We leave in ten minutes.”

  “It shall be done. Anything else?”

  “Assign four guards to watch the prisoner. They’re to kill him if he tries to escape. Go!”

  The Indian saluted and quickly left the room.

  “Will you be joining us, Milord?” asked the rajah.

  “There’s no need to ask, Excellency,” replied Lord Guillonk. “I hate the Tiger of Malaysia.”

  “Yet, he is your nephew, Milord,” smiled the rajah.

  “I do not recognize him as such.”

  “Well, if Fortune smiles upon us, tomorrow, Malay piracy will forever lose two of its greatest leaders.”

  Chapter 10

  In the Cemetery

  WHILE EVENTS WERE unfolding in the rajah’s palace, Sandokan was rapidly advancing towards the city. Within two hours of Tremal-Naik’s burial, the good Maratha had reached the pirates’ camp and relayed Yanez’ message. Sandokan had immediately set off with his men, armed to the teeth and ready for battle.

  It was a beautiful night; stars twinkled like diamonds as the moon cast its soft blue light over the immense forest. An almost perfect silence reigned over all, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves whenever a light breeze blew in from the sea.

  A carbine beneath his arm, his eyes open, his ears straining to pick up the slightest noise, Sandokan led his men forward, the Maratha following a few steps behind.

  The pirates marched in single file, fingers poised on the triggers of their rifles, cautiously advancing over the dried leaves and dead branches, carefully scanning their surroundings to avoid an ambush. At ten o’clock, just as the festivities were commencing in the capital, the pirates reached the outskirts of the immense forest. To the east the river sparkled like a long silver ribbon, partly illuminating the houses and cottages along its banks. Sandokan’s sharp eyes immediately spotted the rajah’s palace, its brightly lit windows prominent against the night.

  “It looks like there’s dancing in Sarawak tonight.”

  “An excellent distraction, Captain,” re
plied the Maratha.

  “Take us to the cemetery. Try to keep us as far from the city as possible.”

  They left the forest and made their way across a vast field marked by beautiful groves of fruit trees. Though at times the wind carried a mix of cries and laughter from the city, the countryside remained deserted. Nevertheless, Kammamuri remained ever vigilant. He knew the outskirts of the city abounded with spies ready to run to the rajah at the first sign of a pirate attack. The Maratha doubled his pace and led the pirates into the forest at the base of the hill beneath the fort. Twenty minutes later, he signalled for the men to halt.

  “What’s the matter,” asked Sandokan, coming to his side.

  “We’re close to the cemetery,” said the Maratha.

  “Where is it?”

  “Over there, Captain, in that field.”

  Kammamuri pointed to a fence a short distance away, beyond it, several gravestones gleamed white in the moonlight.

  “Do you hear anything?” asked Sandokan.

  “Just the wind,” replied the Maratha.

  Sandokan whistled. The pirates rushed forward and circled around them.

  “Tigers of Mompracem,” he said. “We must be cautious. James Brooke is a sharp, suspicious man who’d gladly relinquish his throne to smash the Tiger of Malaysia and his men.”

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  “Sambigliong, take eight men and set up a perimeter a thousand paces from the cemetery. If you see or hear anything suspicious, send someone to warn me.”

  “Understood, Captain,” replied the pirate.

  “Tanauduriam, take six men and set up a perimeter five hundred paces from this spot. If you see or hear anything suspicious, follow the same procedure.”

  “It shall be done, Captain.”

  “Aier-Duk, take four men and take position halfway up the hill. There’s a small fort up there, someone may come down to patrol the area.”

  “As you wish, Tiger.”

  “Go then, when I blow my whistle, come to the cemetery.”

  As the three squadrons went off, the remainder of the men, led by the Tiger of Malaysia and Kammamuri, headed down towards the fence.

  “Do you know where he’s buried?” Sandokan asked Kammamuri.