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

by Emilio Salgari

  “In the middle of the cemetery,” replied the Maratha.

  “In a shallow grave?”

  “I can’t say exactly. Captain Yanez and I watched the burial from the foot of the hill. Are you sure my master’s still alive?”

  “Oh, yes, but he won’t awaken until tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, we’ll return to camp, then, once Yanez has joined us, we’ll go find Ada.”

  “And then?”

  “Then we’ll set sail immediately. If James Brooke discovers what we’ve done, we won’t have a moment’s peace.”

  They had arrived at the gate, Sandokan first, followed by the Maratha and the pirates. They walked towards the center of the cemetery and stopped before an unmarked grave. The loose soil indicated it had been dug recently.

  “This must be it,” said the Maratha excitedly. “Poor master!”

  Sandokan drew his scimitar and carefully began to dig away at the ground. Kammamuri and the pirates drew their krises and did the same.

  “Did they bury him in a shroud or a coffin?” asked Sandokan.

  “In a shroud,” replied Kammamuri.

  “Be careful men, we don’t want to injure him accidentally.”

  Digging cautiously, removing the soil with their hands, they had reached a depth of two feet, when the tip of a kris struck something hard.

  “Found him,” said a pirate, quickly drawing back his arm.

  “Sheathe your krises,” commanded Sandokan. “Hands only from this point forward.”

  The men reached into the opening and began to scoop out the dirt, tossing it in all directions. Moments later they caught a glimpse of Tremal-Naik’s burial shroud.

  “Try and pull him out,” said Sandokan.

  The pirates grabbed the shroud, gathered their strength, and began to pull. Little by little the dirt gave way as the body came to light.

  “My master!” cried the Maratha, his voice trembling with joy.

  “Put him down here,” said Sandokan.

  Tremal-Naik was set down near the grave. The shroud was damp and showed no signs of life.

  “Let’s see,” said Sandokan.

  Kris in hand, he carefully sliced down the length of the material and drew Tremal-Naik’s body from the shroud.

  The Indian appeared dead. His muscles were rigid, his bronze skin had turned ashen, his eyes had rolled back so only their whites were visible, and his lips were parted and stained with blood. Most would have ventured that he had been killed by a powerful poison.

  “My master!” repeated Kammamuri, kneeling down beside him. “Are you sure he isn’t dead, Captain?”

  “I guarantee it,” replied Sandokan.

  The Maratha placed a hand on Tremal-Naik’s chest.

  “His heart isn’t beating,” he said, terrified.

  “But he isn’t dead, I swear.”

  “Can’t you revive him now?”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  “And tomorrow at—”

  The Maratha did not finish, his words cut short by a sharp whistle from the field.

  Sandokan, who had knelt down near Tremal-Naik, quickly sprang to his feet and scanned the meadow.

  “Someone’s coming,” he said.

  A pirate was rushing towards the fence, waving his scimitar, the blade flashing in the moonlight.

  Moments later, after having jumped the fence, he was at Sandokan’s side.

  “Is that you, Sambigliong?” asked the Tiger of Malaysia with a frown.

  “Yes, Captain,” said the pirate, panting slightly after such a long run. “We’re about to be attacked.”

  “Attacked!” repeated Sandokan, his hand running to the hilt of his scimitar.

  “Yes, Captain. A band of armed men has just left the city and is marching towards us at full speed,” said Sambigliong.

  “How many?”

  “At least sixty.”

  “And you’re certain they’re heading here?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “How can this be? Yanez must have been discovered... Heaven help James Brooke if he’s harmed him!”

  “What are we going to do?” asked Sambigliong.

  “First, we’ll gather our men.”

  He placed a small whistle to his lips and blew three short breaths.

  “There are fifty-six of us,” he said, “all brave warriors; we could battle a hundred men.”

  “Two hundred,” said Sambigliong, waving his scimitar. “At the Tiger of Malaysia’s command, we’ll attack Sarawak and set it ablaze.”

  “There’s no need for that,” said Sandokan. “Now listen. Sambigliong, take eight men into that grove of trees on the right. Tanauduriam, take another eight and hide in that grove on the left.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the two captains.

  “And you, Aier-Duk, select three men and take position in the middle of the cemetery.”

  “Yes, captain.”

  “You’ll pretend to be digging up a grave.”

  “Why?”

  “To lure the soldiers towards you. The rest of us will hide behind that wall. When the time comes, I’ll give the signal to attack.”

  “What will the signal be?” asked Sambigliong.

  “A rifle blast. Once you hear it, fire your carbines then draw your scimitars and attack.”

  “An excellent plan!” exclaimed Tanauduriam. “They’ll be caught in a crossfire.”

  “Take your positions!” commanded the Tiger.

  Sambigliong and Tanauduriam led their men into their respective groves. The Tiger of Malaysia knelt down behind the wall, surrounded by the remainder of his men, while Aier-Duk and his companions took position near Tremal-Naik and began to dig.

  Moments later, two columns of Indians led by a man in white appeared in the meadow. They advanced silently, rifles in hand, ready to attack.

  “Kammamuri,” said Sandokan, his eyes fixed on the enemy, “Can you make out who that man in white is?”

  The Maratha frowned, his eyes narrowing, as he studied the on comer.

  “Captain,” he said excitedly, “I’m almost certain it’s Rajah Brooke.”

  “The Rajah!” exclaimed the Tiger, his voice marked with hatred. “Coming to challenge me in person! It will be his final battle!”

  “You’re going to kill him!”

  “With the first blast of my rifle.”

  “You’ll do no such thing, Captain.”

  The Tiger of Malaysia turned to look at Kammamuri.

  “Who’s going to stop me?” he snarled.

  “Captain Yanez could be his prisoner.”

  Sandokan fell silent.

  “That’s true.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to capture the rajah? We could make an exchange.”

  “An excellent idea, Kammamuri. You can’t imagine how I hate that man. He’s slaughtered many of our brethren.”

  “Yanez is worth more than the rajah.”

  “You’re right, my friend. Yanez is his prisoner, I can feel it. Be ready to attack on my signal.”

  The Indians had arrived to within four hundred meters of the cemetery. Not wanting to be spotted by Aier-Duk and his men, they had dropped to the ground and were crawling forward towards their prey.

  “Ten more paces,” murmured Sandokan, fingering the trigger of his carbine.

  Unexpectedly, the advance stopped. At a sign from the rajah, the Indians began to fan out.

  Brooke undoubtedly suspected a trap.

  Once they had formed a semicircle about the meadow, the soldiers cautiously resumed their advance. Sandokan, who had been crouching behind the wall, stood up. He levelled his carbine, aimed, and fired. The shot tore through the silence that reigned over the cemetery. An Indian leading a band of men fell to the ground, struck in the head by a bullet.

  Chapter 11

  The Battle

  THE SOUND OF the discharge had not yet faded when Sandokan’s men began to fire. Frightening cries rose from the meadow as ten, fifteen, twenty rifle sh
ots thundered from the bushes. Fifteen Indian soldiers, some wounded, others dead, fell to the ground before they could think to use their weapons.

  “Forward, my Tigers!” shouted Sandokan as he leaped over the wall followed by Kammamuri and the others. “Attack those dogs.”

  Sambigliong and Tanauduriam charged from the bushes, scimitars in hand, their men close behind them.

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

  “Hurrah for Sandokan! Hurrah for Mompracem!” shouted others.

  Finding themselves under attack, the soldiers quickly, levelled their rifles and fired. Three or four pirates fell, covered in blood.

  “Forward, Tigers!” repeated Sandokan.

  Emboldened by their captain, the pirates charged toward the enemy, mercilessly slaughtering all who stood before them. Frightened by such brutality, the Indians drew back, colliding in the scramble. Scimitar flailing, the Tiger of Malaysia charged at them and quickly split the mass of soldiers in two. Ten pirates rushed in through the breach and attacked the Indians from the rear. Their defeat imminent, the soldiers scattered in all directions, fleeing for their lives.

  However, a small band of men, led by James Brooke, refused to surrender. Spotting his enemy, Sandokan attacked with even greater fury.

  Kammamuri, Aier-Duk and Tanauduriam immediately followed with their men, while Sambigliong led his band after the fleeing soldiers to prevent them from regrouping and returning to the fight.

  “Surrender, James Brooke!” shouted Sandokan.

  The rajah replied by firing his pistol and killing a pirate.

  “Attack, my Tigers!” howled Sandokan, as he knocked down a soldier about to fire upon him.

  Though the enemy resisted tenaciously, it did not take long for the Tigers of Mompracem to open a path with their scimitars and poisoned krises. Kammamuri and Tanauduriam rushed towards the rajah and knocked him to the ground as Aier-Duk and his companions set off after the men fleeing across the meadow.

  “Surrender!” shouted Kammamuri as he tore sword and pistols from the rajah’s grasp.

  “I surrender,” replied James Brooke, quickly realizing the futility of any further resistance.

  Sandokan advanced, still clutching his scimitar.

  “James Brooke,” he said mockingly, “You are my prisoner.”

  Having been felled by Tanauduriam’s steel fist, the rajah stood up and looked the pirate captain in the eye.

  “Sandokan I presume?” he asked, his voice choked with rage.

  “Correct.”

  “Well, what may the Rajah of Sarawak do for the illustrious Tiger of Malaysia?”

  “You’ll answer a few questions.”

  An ironic smile spread across the rajah’s lips.

  “What makes you think I’ll answer?” he asked.

  “You have no other option. I have several means to make you speak. Refuse and we’ll start with fire. Make no mistake, James Brooke; your life hangs by a thread. I hate you more than you can imagine; you’ve shown no mercy to the pirates who fell into your hands, and I’d like nothing more than to avenge those you murdered so ruthlessly.”

  “They brought fear and misery to all who lived along these shores. Was it not my right, my duty, to aid those poor defenceless souls by destroying such evil men?”

  “Men of your race murdered my family and destroyed everything I held dear. Was it not my right, my duty, to seek vengeance? Enough, I do not wish to debate you; answer my questions.”

  “Ask away.”

  “What have you done with Yanez?”

  “Yanez!” exclaimed the rajah. “A good friend of yours?”

  “A very good friend, James Brooke.”

  “Yes, I can imagine.”

  “Is he your prisoner?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suspected as much. When did you discover his true identity?”

  “This evening.”

  “How did you capture him?”

  “Must I tell you all my secrets?”

  “Are you refusing to answer?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  “Speak then.”

  “With help from an acquaintance of yours. Surely you remember Lord Guillonk?”

  Sandokan started. A frown formed upon his brow.

  “Yes,” he replied hoarsely.

  “Your uncle, I believe.”

  Sandokan did not reply.

  “Your uncle recognized Yanez, informed me and I had your friend arrested.”

  “Him!” exclaimed Sandokan. “Him again! And where is Yanez now?”

  “In my palace, under lock and key.”

  “What do you intend to do with him?”

  “I haven’t decided yet; I’ll have to think it over.”

  “Will you?” exclaimed the Tiger of Malaysia with a smile that would have made any other prisoner tremble. “And what makes you think you have that option? Come the morning, you may no longer be Rajah of Sarawak.”

  Despite his extraordinary courage, the rajah turned pale.

  “You’re going to kill me?” he asked, a trace of unease in his voice.

  “If you do not accept my proposal,” Sandokan said coldly.

  “Proposal? What kind of proposal?”

  “An exchange. You for Yanez.”

  “He’s that important to you?”

  “Very.”

  “Why?”

  “He is my blood brother. Do you accept?”

  “I accept,” said the rajah, after a moment’s reflection.

  “Now allow my men to bind and gag you. Your soldiers could return with reinforcements and attempt to attack us.”

  “We’re leaving the cemetery?”

  “Yes, we’re going to a safer place.”

  “Fine, do what you must; I won’t offer any resistance, you have my word.”

  Sandokan motioned to Kammamuri. Four pirates stepped forward, carrying stretchers made of woven branches. The first was empty; the second was occupied by Tremal-Naik, and the others by two gravely wounded Dyaks from Sambigliong’s squadron.

  “Bind and gag the rajah,” Sandokan ordered the Maratha.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  They bound the rajah with solid cords, gagged him with a silken handkerchief then placed him upon the empty stretcher.

  “Where are we going, Captain?” asked Kammamuri.

  “Back to camp,” replied Sandokan.

  He placed a silver whistle to his lips and blew three sharp notes. The pirates who had gone off in pursuit of the soldiers rushed back, along with Sambigliong and Aier-Duk. Sandokan counted his men. Eleven were missing.

  “They died in battle,” said Tanauduriam.

  “We’ll have to leave them where they are,” said Sandokan. “We must get back to camp immediately.”

  The squadron quickly marched into the forest and went around the hill where the fort stood. Sambigliong and Tanauduriam, at the head of a band of ten pirates, led the march, carbines in hand, ready to fire at the first sign of the enemy. The stretchers followed, carrying the rajah, Tremal-Naik and the wounded. Aier-Duk, and the remainder of the men, brought up the rear.

  They advanced quickly and reached the abandoned Dyak village at five that morning, without having encountered a single soul. The pirates had strengthened its defences with deep trenches and a sturdy palisade of upright pointed poles. Sandokan ordered several men into the forest to watch for enemy troops then untied the rajah, who had not uttered a word throughout the journey.

  “I’d like you to write a short note, James Brooke,” said Sandokan, offering him a pencil and a piece of paper.

  “What would you like me to write?” asked the rajah, who despite the circumstances appeared quite calm.

  “That you’ve been taken prisoner. The Tiger of Malaysia offers to release you in exchange for the man known as Lord Welker.”

  The rajah took the piece of paper, placed it upon his knees and began to write.

  “Just a moment,” said Sandokan.


  “Is there something else?” asked the Englishman, arching his eyebrows.

  “Add that if Yanez is not here within four hours, I’ll hang you from the tallest tree in the forest.”

  “Very well.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” said Sandokan.

  “Yes?”

  “Tell them not to attempt to free you. I’ll hang you at the first sign of an armed squadron.”

  “You seem obsessed with hanging me,” the rajah said ironically.

  “I do not deny it, James Brooke,” Sandokan replied menacingly, “Finish the letter and sign it.”

  The rajah wrote as instructed then handed the letter to Sandokan.

  “Excellent,” he said, after having read it. “Sambigliong!”

  The pirate rushed to his side.

  “Take this letter to Sarawak,” said the Tiger, “and deliver it to Lord James Guillonk. Go unarmed; don’t even take your kris.”

  “I’ll run like a horse, Captain.”

  The pirate hid the letter in his sash, cast his scimitar, axe and kris to the ground, and ran off.

  “Aier-Duk,” said Sandokan, turning to another pirate standing nearby. “Watch the prisoner. If he escapes, I’ll have you shot.”

  “You can count on me, Captain,” replied the Tiger.

  Sandokan armed his carbine, summoned Kammamuri who had gone to sit by his master’s side, and headed out of the village, walking towards a hill from which could be seen the city of Sarawak.

  “Do you think they’ll release Captain Yanez?” asked the Maratha.

  “Yes,” replied Sandokan. “He’ll be here within two hours.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. The rajah is worth as much as Yanez.”

  “Keep your guard up, Captain,” said the Maratha. “Indians can cross a forest without making a sound.”

  “There’s no need to fear, Kammamuri. My pirates are just as clever. Not a single enemy will approach our camp undetected.”

  “Won’t the rajah come after us once we’ve released him?”

  “Undoubtedly, Kammamuri. As soon as he’s back in Sarawak, he’ll assemble his guards and Dyaks and set off on our trail.”

  “So we’ll be forced to fight another battle.”

  “No, we’ll set sail for Mompracem before he has a chance to strike.”

  They soon reached the summit of the hill, which towered several meters above the forest. Sandokan arched his hands above his eyes to shade them from the sun and carefully scanned the surrounding countryside. They were about ten miles from Sarawak. The river sparkled like a bright silver ribbon as it flowed past the city and wended through the luxuriant vegetation of the forests and plantations.