Sandokan: The Two Tigers (The Sandokan Series Book 4) Page 12

  “I’m not going to sleep tonight,” replied Yanez. “I’m going night hunting. They say it can be even more exciting than regular hunting, isn’t that so, Tremal-Naik?”

  “And more dangerous,” replied the Bengali.

  “We’ll take Darma along as well. She’s trained to hunt, isn’t she?”

  “She’s smarter than the best trained cheetah, my friend.”

  “The small panther we just saw disappear into the bushes?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’re trained to hunt?”

  “And they make excellent hunters!” exclaimed Tremal-Naik. “But they’re no match for my Darma; she’d even attack a buffalo.”

  “Where is she?” asked Yanez. “I haven’t seen her for awhile.”

  “Don’t worry,” replied Tremal-Naik, “she’s still following us; she’ll be back for dinner unless she decides to go hunting on her own.”

  “There’s a canal in front of us,” said Sandokan. “We’ll set up camp on the opposite bank. We can dig a blind further downstream.”

  A small stream about ten metres wide, filled with muddy water, stretched before them, its banks covered with mangroves. Countless marabou watched them advance from among the branches.

  “Careful, mahout, said Tremal-Naik. “There’s bound to be a few gavials in that canal.”

  “Our elephants do not fear them,” replied the guide.

  The two colossuses had halted by the shore to inspect the ground and sniff the water. Though not a ripple marred the river’s muddy surface the two giants shifted uneasily.

  “There’s a gavial in there, I’m sure of it,” said Tremal-Naik, rising to his feet. “The elephants have caught its scent.”

  After a minute, the koomareah, which must have been the more courageous of the two, took a few steps forward, its legs quickly disappearing into the dark brown waters.

  It had advanced three or four metres, when it stopped suddenly and began to shake so strongly the three hunters were almost hurled out of the howdah.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Sandokan, grabbing his carbine.

  The koomareah trumpeted loudly, plunged its trunk into the water then quickly retreated.

  “He’s got it!” shouted the mahout.

  “Got what?” asked Sandokan and Yanez in unison.

  “The gavial that bit him.”

  The trunk was now in the air, wrapped about a large reptile with long powerful jaws lined with sharp yellow teeth, similar to a crocodile.

  Torn from its element, the beast struggled furiously, attempting to strike the elephant with its tail, but the koomareah deftly avoided every swipe. It kept the gavial high in the air, squeezing it tightly, and appeared to be taking great pleasure in cracking the hard scales that covered its body.

  “Is the elephant going to strangle it?” asked Yanez.

  “No, but it’ll make that gavial pay for the bite it gave him. Elephants are extremely vindictive.”

  “Is it going to trample that poor beast?”

  “No, not that either.”

  “What then?”

  “You’ll laugh,” said Tremal-Naik, “I wouldn’t want to be in the gavial’s place.”

  Keeping the gavial high in the air to avoid its tail, the koomareah quickly backed onto the shore, turned around, and marched towards a giant tamarind tree that towered over a patch of bamboo.

  It studied the enormous tree for several minutes then placed the reptile between two forked branches, wedging it in with such force that the gavial could not break free.

  It trumpeted with satisfaction then calmly walked back towards the canal, swinging its trunk, an evil gleam in its eyes.

  “Did you see that?” Tremal-Naik asked Yanez.

  “Yes, but I didn’t quite understand it.”

  “It’s condemned the reptile to a slow painful death.”

  “What? How? Ah!” exclaimed the Portuguese. “That crocodile will die of thirst and hunger up in that tree.”

  “And the sun will dehydrate it.”

  “Such a vindictive beast.”

  “That’s the kind of torture they inflict on gavials and alligators whenever they catch one.”

  “It’s hard to believe these gentle sweet-natured colossuses are capable of such wickedness.”

  “They can be as wicked as they are gentle. I heard about a mahout that had the habit of breaking coconuts on his elephant’s head. This of course irritated the elephant, even though it really did it no harm. One day they were passing through a coconut plantation. The mahout picked a few and began to break them on the elephant’s head, as was his habit. For awhile the beast let him then it took a coconut with its trunk and smashed it…”

  “On the mahout’s head?” asked Sandokan.

  “Precisely,” replied Tremal-Naik. “You can imagine what happened to that poor man. His skull was shattered in one blow.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed Yanez. “Harsh justice!”

  “I know of another that once taught a lesson to an Indian tailor in Calcutta. Every time that colossus was taken to the river to drink, it would poke its trunk in the windows of the houses along the street, and the inhabitants would give it some fruit or sweets. However, whenever it poked its trunk into the tailor’s shop the mean old man would jab it with whatever needle he had at hand. This went on for awhile until one day the elephant lost its patience. Once at the river, it filled it’s trunk with mud and water, then as it walked past the tailor’s shop, it blew all that liquid through the window, knocking down the old man and ruining all the clothes and material he had in his shop.”

  “Vengeance well served,” said Yanez, laughing. “I bet that poor tailor has never touched an elephant since.”

  “Sahib,” said the mahout, addressing Tremal-Naik. “I suggest we set up camp here. There’s good shade and pasture for the elephants.”

  The opposite bank of the canal did in fact appear to be an excellent site, it being free of kalam and thorny bamboo, ideal hiding places for the dangerous serpents that populated the jungles of the Sundarbans.

  A fire must have recently destroyed some of the vegetation for the ground was covered in grey mud that had been hardened by the harsh sun. Fortunately, the large plants had not suffered much damage and would provide the hunters with ample shade.

  “You’re right, mahout,” said Tremal-Naik. “This is an excellent spot. We’ll rest here for awhile.”

  They slung their carbines over their shoulders, climbed out of the howdah and headed beneath the trees. Once they found a spot they had their men quickly set up the tents. The elephants, in the meantime, went off to ransack the surrounding trees, unleashing a shower of water every time they pulled down a mouthful of leaves.

  “Well!” exclaimed Yanez, having gotten drenched as he passed beneath the branches of one of those large trees, “Where did all that water come from?”

  “You’ve never seen these kinds of trees before?” asked Tremal-Naik.

  “I think I may have seen similar ones throughout our journey, but I couldn’t tell you what they were.”

  “They’re neem trees, very precious, especially in regions prone to drought. They’re quite common throughout India, and can absorb the humidity directly from the air; each leaf contains the equivalent of a glass of water. Give the trunk a shake, and you’ll unleash a shower.”

  “Is the water good?”

  “Not really, the leaves give it a bitter taste. However, it’ll do if you’re thirsty. Farmers use it to water their fields; one plant provides enough water to fill two or more barrels.”

  “There are similar plants on our islands,” said Sandokan. “Nepente vines. I’d say they contain as much liquid as those trees.”

  “And we made good use of them when the British were chasing us through the jungles of Labuan!” laughed Yanez. “I remember once—”

  He was cut short by a bark and a growl. Darma and Punthy, who had crossed the river immediately after the elephants, had rushed into a grove of trees.


  They took a few steps forward, then a few steps back, then dove in among the mussaenda bushes, zigzagging over the ground as if following a set of tracks.

  “What’s wrong with them?” asked Sandokan, a little surprised by the sudden change in their behaviour.

  “I don’t know,” replied Tremal-Naik, “perhaps a hooded cobra or a python passed by here awhile ago and Darma and Punthy have picked up its scent.”

  “Or a man perhaps?”

  “It’s quite a ways to the nearest village, no Molanghi would dare come out this far. They’re too afraid of tigers. Bah! Best leave them be, they’ll alert us if they find anything. We’ll have dinner then go dig our blind. See that small grove of peepal trees down there between the jungle and the river? That’s where the animals will come to drink, and that’s where we’ll be waiting for them.”

  They ate quickly, ordered the Malays and mahouts to keep watch over the camp then armed with a spade and a hoe, set off towards the grove, summoning Darma to accompany them. Punthy stayed behind with the others to help guard the camp.

  The tents and elephants had just disappeared from view, when the tiger suddenly grew uneasy.

  She stopped and sniffed the air, beat her sides nervously with her tail, then pricked up her ears, growling softly.

  “What’s the matter with Darma this evening?” asked Yanez.

  “I was just wondering the same thing, she never acts this way,” replied Tremal-Naik.

  “We haven’t seen anyone, or heard so much as a sound,” said Sandokan.

  “Nevertheless, I’m starting to get a little nervous myself,” said Tremal-Naik.

  “Nervous? What’s there to be nervous about? We’re well armed, Darma is with us, and our men are less than a mile away.”

  “You’re right, Sandokan.”

  “Could it be a band of Thugs?”

  “We’re far from the Mangal; I doubt they even know that there are strangers in the jungle.”

  “Onward then, we should begin our preparations for tonight,” said Yanez. “We’ve got a blind to dig.”

  The sun having set, the sky was quickly growing darker. They headed beneath the peepals and began to look for a patch of clear ground.

  When they had found one large enough, they began to dig and in less than an hour had a hole three metres long and a half metre deep. They leaned several bundles of bamboo across it like a roof, leaving a large opening that gave them a good view of the riverbank, then summoned Darma and hid inside.

  “It’s just a matter of patience now,” said Tremal-Naik. “It may be awhile before an animal comes to drink, but something is bound to appear. This is the perfect spot, a safe open space with nowhere for tigers or panthers to lie in wait. We won’t have any trouble catching tomorrow’s breakfast.”

  The birds soon disappeared from the nearby canal, and the small forest slowly grew quiet. A few Rhesus monkeys could still be heard from time to time, crying out playfully as they swung about the branches of a giant peepal tree, until a bighana[20], roused from its slumber, howled in anger and frightened them into silence.

  The three hunters had lined the pit with a thick layer of leaves to fend off the humidity, and were now stretched out upon the ground, smoking in silence as they listened for the slightest sound. Darma was crouched nearby, her soft purring an indication that they were still alone.

  A little more than an hour had passed when she suddenly sprang to her feet, pricked up her ears, and fixed her eyes on the edge of the blind.

  “Something’s coming,” said Tremal-Naik, grabbing his carbine and silently rising to his feet.

  Sandokan and Yanez were quick to follow.

  The clearing was still empty, however, they could hear branches rustling in the middle of the forest, as if something were trying to open a path among the underbrush.

  “What do you think it is?” asked Yanez.

  “Something fairly large,” replied the Bengali. “A nilgo, an axis or a muntjac[21] would never make such noise.”

  He had just uttered those words, when a giant shadow emerged from a thick clump of mindi and mussaenda bushes.

  It was an enormous water buffalo with long sharp swept back horns and a short square head, a dangerous beast endowed with great strength and agility. It had stopped suddenly and bellowed dully, perhaps catching the scent of Darma and the hunters.

  “What a magnificent beast!” whispered Yanez.

  “It’ll take more than a couple of blasts from your carbine to bring that down,” said Tremal-Naik. “Our buffaloes are much too strong and they’re not afraid of hunters. It’s a good thing we brought Darma with us.”

  At the sight of the buffalo, the tiger had placed her forepaws on the edge of the blind and turned to look at her master.

  “By all means, my good Darma,” said Tremal-Naik, stroking her back.

  The clever beast silently crawled out of the pit and quickly disappeared into the bushes.

  “She’s not planning a direct attack?” asked Yanez.

  “Darma would never be so foolish,” replied Tremal-Naik. “She knows how dangerous a buffalo’s horns can be. She’ll pounce from the bushes and take it by surprise.”

  “We’ll be ready to help her if need be,” said Sandokan, levelling his carbine.

  The buffalo sniffed the air, started suddenly, turned around, stared at the bushes it had just emerged from then lowered its head and presented its formidable horns.

  Had it sensed the tiger’s approach, or had it been warned by the rustle of leaves, or the snap of a branch?

  It stood there, listening nervously for half a minute, bellowing dully from time to time as it beat its sides with its tail.

  Suddenly a shadow flew through the air and landed on its back.

  Darma had pounced and sunk her claws into the buffalo’s hide.

  Despite its extraordinary strength, the buffalo’s knees had buckled beneath the impact. It sprang up immediately, attempting with a furious shake to rid itself of its adversary, then fell to the ground once again, its bellows of pain resounding beneath the dark canopy.

  The tiger’s sharp teeth had severed its spine.

  Tremal-Naik, Sandokan and Yanez had rushed out of the blind and were just paces from Darma when a rifle blast thundered from nearby, followed seconds later by a voice that cried out in English: “Help! They’re strangling me!”

  Chapter 16

  The Thugs

  AT THE SOUND of that cry, the Tiger of Malaysia ran towards the water, followed by Yanez and Tremal-Naik. A suspicion had flashed through their minds simultaneously: Their men spoke English fluently; could one of them have been captured by a Thug?

  The formidable pirate crossed the small grove of peepals that separated him from the canal in seconds, emerging from the trees several hundred metres ahead of his companions.

  Near the shore, five men clothed in loincloths and small yellow turbans were dragging something through the grass with a long thin rope. The kalams were too tall for Sandokan to make out what it was, but the cry had left no doubt, someone was in danger.

  The brave pirate immediately raced towards them, shouting menacingly:

  “Halt, you rascals, or I’ll shoot you down like rabid dogs!”

  At the sight of that stranger, the five Indians dropped the rope and drew long curved knives from the loincloths about their hips.

  Without exchanging a word, they spread out in a semicircle and advanced towards the pirate. One of the attackers drew out a long black rumaal, weighted at one end by a rock, and began twirling it in the air.

  Sandokan, realizing they planned to surround him, quickly leaped out of danger, aimed his carbine and fired at the Indian just as he was about to cast his noose.

  Struck in the chest, his adversary fell to the ground dead.

  The other four, undeterred by that shot, drew nearer and were about to attack when a loud roar suddenly stopped them in their tracks.

  The Bengali’s pet tiger was running to assist her master
’s friend, leaping forward ten metres at a time.

  From somewhere among the vegetation, Tremal-Naik’s voice yelled out, “Go get them, Darma!”

  At the sight of that frightening beast, the Indians turned on their heels and rushed into the canal.

  The tiger raced after them but arrived too late, her quarry had disappeared among the vines.

  “Another time, Darma,” said Sandokan. “You’ll have plenty more opportunities. The rascals must have reached the opposite shore by now.”

  Tremal-Naik and Yanez emerged from the grove of peepals just then and raced towards the pirate.

  “Escaped?” they asked as they reached his side.

  “There’s no sign of them anywhere,” replied Sandokan, who had led Darma towards the shore and was attempting to spot the Indians among the reeds and lotus leaves. “It’s too dark; I can’t see anything among all that vegetation.”

  The tiger’s sudden appearance had made them flee like rabbits and thwarted any attempt to avenge their fallen friend.

  “They were Thugs, weren’t they?” asked Tremal-Naik.

  “I think so; one of them tried to hurl his noose at me.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “He’s lying back there in the grass. I must have shot him in the heart; he fell without a sound.”

  “We should examine him; there’s a slim chance they may have just been bandits.”

  They quickly walked back to where the body had fallen among the grass, the man lay face down with his arms splayed before him, his right hand still clutching his rumaal.

  They rolled him over and examined his chest.

  “A Naga!” exclaimed Tremal-Naik. “I was right!”

  “Excellent shot, Sandokan!” said Yanez. “Right through the chest. Looks like the bullet smashed through his spine, it may have even grazed his heart.”

  “He was only five paces from me,” replied the Tiger of Malaysia. Then he struck his forehead and exclaimed, “I forgot about their prisoner. They were dragging someone through the grass.”

  They looked around and spotted a man dressed in white flannel sitting among the kalams, a few metres from them, watching their every move, eyes wide with fear.

  He was a handsome young man, about twenty-five years old, with thick black hair, a fine moustache and skin that had been lightly bronzed by the Indian sun. A thin rope hung about his neck, a silk noose commonly used by the Thugs when they do not have their strangling cloths.