Kitabı oku: «The Argus Pheasant», sayfa 9

"One move and I shoot," Peter Gross cried.

The brown wave stopped for a moment, but it was only a moment, Peter Gross realized, for life was cheap in Borneo, even a Rajah's life. He looked wildly about – then the tumult stilled as suddenly as though every man in the hall had been simultaneously stricken with paralysis.

Gross's impressions of the next few moments were rather vague. He dimly realized that some one had come between him and the raging mob. That some one was waving the natives back. It was a woman. He intuitively sensed her identity before he perceived her face – it was Koyala.

The brown wave receded sullenly, like the North sea backing from the dikes of Holland. Peter Gross replaced his pistol in its holster and released Wobanguli – Koyala was speaking. In the morgue-like silence her silvery voice rang with startling clearness.

"Are you mad, my children of Bulungan?" she asked sorrowfully. "Have you lost your senses? Would the taking of this one white life compensate for the misery you would bring on our people?"

She paused an instant. Every eye was riveted upon her. Her own glorious orbs turned heavenward, a mystic light shone in them, and she raised her arms as if in invocation.

"Hear me, my children," she chanted in weird, Druidical tones. "Into the north flew the Argus Pheasant, into the north, through jungle and swamp and canebrake, by night and by day, for the Hanu Token were her guides and the great god Djath and his servants, the spirits of the Gunong Agong called her. She passed through the country of the sea Dyaks, and she saw no peace; she passed through the country of the hill Dyaks, and she saw no peace. Up, up she went, up the mountain of the flaming fires, up to the very edge of the pit where the great god Djath lives in the flames that never die. There she saw Djath, there she heard his voice, there she received the message that he bade her bring to his children, his children of Bulungan. Here is the message, chiefs of my people, listen and obey."

Every Dyak groveled on the ground and even the Malay Mahometans crooked their knees and bowed their heads almost to the earth. Swaying from side to side, Koyala began to croon:

"Hear my words, O princes of Bulungan, hear my words I send you by the Bintang Burung. Lo, a white man has come among you, and his face is fair and his words are good and his heart feels what his lips speak. Lo, I have placed him among you to see if in truth there is goodness and honesty in the heart of a white man. If his deeds be as good as his words, then will you keep him, and guard him, and honor him, but if his heart turns false and his lips speak deceitfully, then bring him to me that he may burn in the eternal fires that dwell with me. Lo, that ye may know him, I have given him a servant whose head I have touched with fire from the smoking mountain."

At that moment Paddy, hatless and disheveled, plunged through the crowd toward Peter Gross. A ray of sunlight coming through the roof fell on his head. His auburn hair gleamed like a burst of flame. Koyala pointed at him and cried dramatically:

"See, the servant with the sacred flame."

"The sacred flame," Dyaks and Malays both muttered awesomely, as they crowded back from the platform.

"Who shall be the first to make blood-brother of this white man?" Koyala cried. The hill Dyak chieftain who had counseled peace came forward.

"Jahi of the Jahi Dyaks will," he said. Peter Gross looked at him keenly, for Jahi was reputed to be the boldest raider and head-hunter in the hills. The Dyak chief opened a vein in his arm with a dagger and gave the weapon to Peter Gross. Without hesitating, the resident did the same with his arm. The blood intermingled a moment, then they rubbed noses and each repeated the word: "Blood-brother," three times.

One by one Dyaks and Malays came forward and went through the same ceremony. A few slipped out the door without making the brotherhood covenant, Peter Gross noticed. He was too elated to pay serious attention to these; the battle was already won, he believed.

In the shadows in the rear of the hall Van Slyck whispered in the ear of a Malay chieftain. The Malay strode forward after the ceremonies were over, and said gravely:

"Blood-brother, we have made you one of us and our ruler, as the great god Djath hath commanded. But there was one condition in the god's commands. If you fail, you are to be delivered to Djath for judgment, and no evil shall come upon our people from your people for that sentence. Will you pledge us this?"

They were all looking at him, Malay, hill Dyak, and sea Dyak, and every eye said: "Pledge!" Peter Gross realized that if he would keep their confidence he must give his promise. But a glance toward Van Slyck had revealed to him the Malay's source of inspiration, and he sensed the trick that lay beneath the demand.

"Will you pledge, brother?" the Malay demanded again.

"I pledge," Peter Gross replied firmly.

CHAPTER XVII
The Poisoned Arrow

"And so," Peter Gross concluded, "I pledged my life that we'd put things to rights in Bulungan."

Captain Carver did not answer. It was dim twilight of the evening following the council meeting – they were met in Peter Gross's den, and the captain had listened with an air of critical attention to the nocturnal chirping of the crickets outside. Had it not been for occasional curt, illuminative questions, Peter Gross might have thought him asleep. He was a man of silences, this Captain Carver, a man after Peter Gross's own heart.

"On the other hand they pledged that they would help me," Peter Gross resumed. "There are to be no more raids, the head-hunters will be delivered to justice, and there will be no more trading with the pirates or payment of tribute to them. Man for man, chief for chief, they pledged. I don't trust all of them. I know Wobanguli will violate his oath, for he is a treacherous scoundrel, treacherous and cunning but lacking in courage, or his nerve wouldn't have failed him yesterday. The Datu of Bandar is a bad man. I hardly expected him to take the oath, and it won't take much to persuade him to violate it. The Datu of Padang, the old man who lost the forty buffaloes, is a venomous old rascal that we'll have to watch. Lkath of the Sadong Dyaks left while we were administering the oath; there is no blood of fealty on his forehead. But I trust the hill Dyaks, they are with me. And we have Koyala."

Another silence fell between the resident and his lieutenant. It was quite dark now and the ends of their cigars glowed ruddily. There was a tap on the door and Paddy Rouse announced himself.

"Shall I get a light, sir?" he asked.

"I don't think it is necessary, Paddy," Peter Gross replied kindly. He had conceived a great affection for the lad. He turned toward Carver.

"What do you think of the situation?" he asked pointedly.

Carver laid his cigar aside. It was not casually done, but with the deliberateness of the man who feels he has an unpleasant duty before him.

"I was trying to decide whether Koyala is an asset or a liability," he replied.

Peter Gross, too, listened for a moment to the chirping of the crickets before he answered.

"She saved my life," he said simply.

"She did," Captain Carver acknowledged. "I'm wondering why."

Peter Gross stared into the evening silence.

"I believe you misjudge her, captain," he remonstrated gently. "She hasn't had much chance in life. She's had every reason for hating us – all whites – but she has the welfare of her people at heart. She's a patriot. It's the one passion of her life, the one outlet for her starved and stunted affections. Her Dyak blood leads her to extremes. We've got to curb her savage nature as far as we can, and if she does break the bounds occasionally, overlook it. But I don't question her absolute sincerity. That is why I trust her."

"If she were all Dyak I might think as you do," Captain Carver said slowly. "But I never knew mixed blood to produce anything noble. It's the mixture of bloods in her I'm afraid of. I've seen it in the Philippines and among the Indians. It's never any good."

"There have been some notable half-breed patriots," Peter Gross remarked with a half-smile that the darkness curtained.

"Dig into their lives and you'll find that what an infatuated people dubbed patriotism was just damned meanness. Never a one of them, but was after loot, not country."

"You have old Sachsen's prejudices," Peter Gross said. "Did I tell you about the letter I got from him? I'll let you read it later, it's a shame to spoil this evening. Sachsen warns me not to trust the girl, says she's a fiend. He coupled her name with Ah Sing's." The vicious snap of the resident's teeth was distinctly audible. God, how an old man's tongue clacks to scandal. "I thought Sachsen was above it, but 'Rumor sits on the housetop,' as Virgil says…"

His voice trailed into silence and he stared across the fields toward the jungle-crowned hills silhouetted against the brilliantly starlit sky.

"Sachsen is too old a man to be caught napping," Carver observed.

"There probably is some sort of an understanding between Koyala and Ah Sing," Peter Gross admitted seriously. "But it's nothing personal. She thought he could help her free Bulungan. I think I've made her see the better way – at least induced her to give us a chance to show what we can do."

"You're sure it was Ah Sing's voice you heard?"

Peter Gross perceived from the sharp acerbity of the captain's tone, as well as from the new direction he gave their conversation, Carver's lack of sympathy with his views on Koyala's conduct. He sighed and replied mildly:

"I am positive. There is no other bass in the world like his. Hoarse and deep, a sea-lion growl. If I could have forced the bamboo aside sooner, I might have seen him before he dodged out of the runway."

"If he's here we've got the whole damn' wasp's nest around our ears," Carver growled. "I wish we had the Prins here."

"That would make things easier. But we can't tie her up in harbor, that would give the pirates free play. She's our whole navy, with nearly eight hundred miles of coastline to patrol."

"And we're here with twenty-five men," Carver said bitterly. "It would be damned farcical if it wasn't so serious."

"We are not here to use a mailed fist," Peter Gross remonstrated mildly.

"I understand. All the same – " Carver stopped abruptly and stared into the silence. Peter Gross made no comment. Their views were irreconcilable, he saw. It was inevitable that Carver should undervalue moral suasion; a military man, he recognized only the arbitrament of brute force. The captain was speaking again.

"When do you begin the census?"

"Next Monday. I shall see Muller to-morrow. It will take at least two months, possibly three; they're very easy-going here. I'd like to finish it before harvest, so as to be able to check up the tax."

"You're going to trust it to Muller?"

The question implied doubt of his judgment. Peter Gross perceived Carver was averse to letting either Muller or Van Slyck participate in the new administration outside their regular duties.

"I think it is best," the resident replied quietly. "I don't want him condemned on his past record, regardless of the evidence we may get against him. He shall have his chance – if he proves disloyal he will convict himself."

"How about Van Slyck?"

"He shall have his chance, too."

"You can't give the other man all the cards and win."

"We'll deal fairly. The odds aren't quite so big as you think – we'll have Koyala and the hill Dyaks with us."

"H'mm. Jahi comes to-morrow afternoon, you say?"

"Yes. I shall appoint him Rajah over all the hill people."

Carver picked up his cigar and puffed in silence for several moments.

"If you could only trust the brutes," he exploded suddenly. "Damn it, Mr. Gross, I wish I had your confidence, but I haven't. I can't help remember some of the things that happened back in Luzon a few years ago – and the Tagalogs aren't far distant relatives of these cusses. 'Civilize 'em with a Krag,' the infantry used to sing. It's damn' near the truth."

"In the heart of every man there's something that responds to simple justice and fair dealing – What's that?"

A soft thud on the wall behind them provoked the exclamation. Carver sprang to his feet, tore the cigar from Peter Gross's mouth, and hurled it at the fireplace with his own. Almost simultaneously he snapped the heavy blinds together. The next moment a soft tap sounded on the shutters.

Peter Gross lit a match and stepped to the wall. A tiny arrow, tipped with a jade point, and tufted with feathers, quivered in the plaster. Carver pulled it out and looked at the discolored point critically.

"Poisoned!" he exclaimed. He gave it to the resident, remarking ironically:

"With the compliments of the Argus Pheasant, Mr. Gross."

CHAPTER XVIII
A Summons to Sadong

With pen poised, Peter Gross sat at his desk in the residency building and stared thoughtfully at the blank sheets of stationery before him. He was preparing a letter to Captain Rouse, to assure that worthy that all was going well, that Paddy was in the best of health and proving his value in no uncertain way, and to give a pen picture of the situation. He began:

Dear Captain:

Doubtless you have heard from Paddy before this, but I want to add my assurance to his that he is in the best of health and is heartily enjoying himself. He has already proven his value to me, and I am thanking my lucky stars that you let me have him.

We have been in Bulungan for nearly a month, and so far all is well. The work is going on, slowly, to be sure, but successfully, I hope. I can already see what I think are the first fruits of my policies.

The natives are not very cordial as yet, but I have made some valuable friends among them. The decisions I have been called upon to make seem to have given general satisfaction, in most instances. I have twice been obliged to set aside the judgments of controlleurs, whose rulings appeared unjust to me, and in both cases my decision was in favor of the poorer litigant. This has displeased some of the orang kayas, or rich men, of the villages, but it has strengthened me with the tribesmen, I believe.

He described the council and the result, and continued:

I am now having a census taken of each district in the residency. I have made the controlleur in each district responsible for the accuracy of the census in his territory, and have made Mynheer Muller, the acting-resident prior to my coming, chief of the census bureau. He opposed the count at first, but has come round to my way of thinking, and is prosecuting the work diligently. The chief difficulty is the natives – some one has been stirring them up – but I have high hopes of knowing, before the next harvest, how many people there are in each village and what proportion of the tax each chief should be required to bring. The taxation system has been one of the worst evils in Bulungan in the past; the poor have been oppressed, and all the tax-gatherers have enriched themselves, but I expect to end this…

I had a peculiar request made of me the other day. Captain Van Slyck asked that Captain Carver and his company be quartered away from Bulungan. The presence of Carver's irregulars was provoking jealousies among his troops, he said, and was making it difficult to maintain discipline. There is reason in his request, yet I hesitate to grant it. Captain Van Slyck has not been very friendly toward me, and a mutiny in the garrison would greatly discredit my administration. I have not yet given him my answer…

Inchi tells me there is a persistent rumor in the town that the great Datu, the chief of all the pirates, is in Bulungan. I would have believed his story the day after the council, for I thought I recognized his voice there; but I must have been mistaken. Captain Enckel, of the Prins Lodewyk, who was here a week ago, brings me positive assurance that the man is at Batavia. He saw him there himself, he says. It cannot be that my enemy has a double; nature never cast two men in that mold in one generation. Since Inchi cannot produce any one who will swear positively that he has seen the Datu, I am satisfied that the report is unfounded. Maybe you can find out something.

As Peter Gross was affixing the required stamp, the door opened and Paddy Rouse entered.

"The baby doll is here and wants to see you," Paddy announced.

"Who?" Peter Gross asked, mystified.

"The yellow kid; old man Muller's chocolate darling," Paddy elucidated.

Peter Gross looked at him in stern reproof.

"Let the Juffrouw Koyala be the Juffrouw Koyala to you hereafter," he commanded harshly.

"Yes, sir." Paddy erased the grin from his lips but not from his eyes. "Shall I ask the lady to come in?"

"You may request her to enter," Peter Gross said. "And, Paddy – "

"Yes, sir."

" – leave the door open."

"Yes, sir."

The red head bobbed to hide another grin.

Koyala glided in softly as a kitten. She was dressed as usual in the Malay-Javanese costume of kabaya and sarong. Peter Gross could not help noticing the almost mannish length of her stride and the haughty, arrogant tilt of her head.

"Unconquerable as the sea," he mused. "And apt to be as tempestuous. She's well named – the Argus Pheasant."

He placed a chair for her. This time she did not hesitate to accept it. As she seated herself she crossed her ankles in girlish unconsciousness. Peter Gross could not help noticing how slim and perfectly shaped those ankles were, and how delicately her exquisitely formed feet tapered in the soft, doe-skin sandals.

"Well, juffrouw, which of my controlleurs is in mischief now?" he asked in mock resignation.

Koyala flashed him a quick smile, a swift, dangerous, alluring smile.

"Am I always complaining, mynheer?" she asked.

Peter Gross leaned back comfortably. He was smiling, too, a smile of masculine contentment. "No, not always, juffrouw," he conceded. "But you kept me pretty busy at first."

"It was necessary, mynheer."

Peter Gross nodded assent. "To be sure, juffrouw, you did have reason to complain," he agreed gravely. "Things were pretty bad, even worse than I had expected to find them. But we are gradually improving conditions. I believe that my officers now know what is expected of them."

He glanced at her reprovingly. "You haven't been here much this week; this is only the second time."

A mysterious light flashed in Koyala's eyes, but Peter Gross was too intent on admiring her splendid physical sufficiency to notice it.

"You are very busy, Mynheer Resident," Koyala purred. "I take too much of your time as it is with my trifling complaints."

"Not at all, not at all," Peter Gross negatived vigorously. "The more you come, the better I am pleased." Koyala flashed a swift glance at him. "Come every day if you can. You are my interpreter, the only voice by which I can speak to the people of Bulungan and be heard. I want you to know what we are doing and why we are doing it; there is nothing secret here that you should not know."

He leaned forward earnestly.

"We must work out the salvation of Bulungan together, juffrouw. I am relying very much upon you. I cannot do it alone; your people will not believe in me. Unless you speak for me there will be misunderstandings, maybe bloodshed."

Koyala's eyes lowered before his beseeching gaze and the earnestness of his plea.

"You are very kind, mynheer," she said softly. "But you overestimate my powers. I am only a woman – it is the Rajahs who rule."

"One word from Koyala has more force in Bulungan than the mandate of the great council itself," Peter Gross contradicted. "If you are with me, if you speak for me, the people are mine, and all the Rajahs, Gustis, and Datus in the residency could not do me harm."

He smiled frankly.

"I want to be honest with you, juffrouw. I am thoroughly selfish in asking these things. I want to be known as the man who redeemed Bulungan, even though the real work is yours."

Koyala's face was hidden. Peter Gross saw that her lips pressed together tightly and that she was undergoing some powerful emotion. He looked at her anxiously, fearful that he had spoken too early, that she was not yet ready to commit herself utterly to his cause.

"I came to see you, mynheer, about an affair that happened in the country of the Sadong Dyaks," Koyala announced quietly.

Peter Gross drew back. Koyala's reply showed that she was not yet ready to join him, he perceived. Swallowing his disappointment, he asked in mock dismay:

"Another complaint, juffrouw?"

"One of Lkath's own people, a Sadong Dyak, was killed by a poisoned arrow," Koyala stated. "The arrow is tufted with heron's feathers; Jahi's people use those on their arrows. Lkath has heard that the head of his tribesman now hangs in front of Jahi's hut."

The smile that had been on Peter Gross's lips died instantly. His face became drawn and hard.

"I cannot believe it!" he exclaimed at length in a low voice. "Jahi has sworn brotherhood with me and sworn to keep the peace. We rubbed noses and anointed each others' foreheads with the blood of a fresh-killed buffalo."

"If you choose the hill people for your brothers, the sea people will not accept you," Koyala said coldly.

"I choose no nation and have no favorites," Peter Gross replied sternly. "I have only one desire – to deal absolute and impartial justice to all. Let me think."

He bowed his head in his hands and closed his eyes in thought. Koyala watched him like a tigress in the bush.

"Who found the body of the slain man?" he asked suddenly, looking up again.

"Lkath himself, and some of his people," Koyala replied.

"Do the Sadong Dyaks use the sumpitan?"

"The Dyaks of the sea do not fight their enemies with poison," Koyala said scornfully. "Only the hill Dyaks do that."

"H-m! Where was the body? How far from the stream?"

"It was by a water-hole."

"How far from Lkath's village?"

"About five hours' journey. The man was hunting."

"Was he alone? Were there any of Lkath's people with him?"

"One. His next younger brother. They became separated in the baba, and he returned home alone. It was he who found the body, he and Lkath."

"Ah!" Peter Gross exclaimed involuntarily. "Then, according to Dyak custom, he will have to marry his brother's wife. Are there any children?"

"One," Koyala answered. "They were married a few moons over a year ago." Pensively she added, in a woman's afterthought: "The woman grieves for her husband and cannot be consoled. She is very beautiful, the most beautiful woman of her village."

"I believe that I will go to Sadong myself," Peter Gross said suddenly. "This case needs investigating."

"It is all I ask," Koyala said. Her voice had the soft, purring quality in it again, and she lowered her head in the mute Malay obeisance. The action hid the tiny flicker of triumph in her eyes.

"I will go to-morrow," Peter Gross said. "I can get a proa at Bulungan."

"You will take your people with you?"

"No, I will go alone."

It seemed to Peter Gross that Koyala's face showed a trace of disappointment.

"You should not do that," she reproved. "Lkath is not friendly to you. He will not welcome a blood-warrior of Jahi since this has happened."

"In a matter like this, one or two is always better than a company," Peter Gross dissented. "Yet I wish you could be there. I cannot offer you a place in my proa – there will be no room for a woman – but if you can find any other means of conveyance, the state will pay." He looked at her wistfully.

Koyala laughed. "The Argus Pheasant will fly to Sadong faster than your proa," she said. She rose. As her glance roved over the desk she caught sight of the letter Peter Gross had just finished writing.

"Oh, you have been writing to your sweetheart," she exclaimed. Chaffingly as the words were spoken, Peter Gross felt a little of the burning curiosity that lay back of them.

"It is a letter to a sea-captain at Batavia whom I once served under," he replied quietly. "I told him about my work in Bulungan. Would you care to read it?"

He offered her the envelope. Quivering with an eagerness she could not restrain, Koyala half reached for it, then jerked back her hand. Her face flamed scarlet and she leaped back as though the paper was death to touch. With a choking cry she exclaimed:

"I do not want to read your letters. I will see you in Sadong – " She bolted through the door.

Peter Gross stared in undisguised bewilderment after her. It was several minutes before he recovered and placed the letter back in the mailing receptacle.

"I never will be able to understand women," he said sadly, shaking his head.