Sandokan: The Tigers of Mompracem (The Sandokan Series Book 1) Page 13

  “How will our prahus fare in such a storm?”

  “Our men are skilled seamen,” replied Sandokan. “They’ll be fine.”

  “The storm could easily sink both our ships. What then?”

  “What then? I’d kidnap Marianna anyway.”

  “You’re getting a little overconfident, Sandokan. Two men, even if they’re from Mompracem, can’t take on twenty, thirty perhaps even fifty muskets.”

  “We’ll be cunning.”

  “Naturally…”

  “I will not abandon my plans, Yanez! I will not return to Mompracem without Marianna.”

  Yanez did not reply. He lit a cigarette, lay down on the grass and closed his eyes. Despite the storm the ground was almost dry, thanks to the large trees and thick canopy. Sandokan, however, stood up and headed towards the beach. Unable to sleep, the Portuguese watched him turn at the edge of the forest, climb north and then descend towards the south. He was undoubtedly attempting to get his bearings, looking for a familiar landmark or a patch of land he had crossed during his stay on the island. When he returned, dawn was not far off. It had stopped raining and the wind had died down.

  “I know where we are,” he said.

  “Ah…” replied Yanez, getting up.

  “The brook should be to the south of us, not too far from here.”

  “Well then, shall we go look for it?”

  “Yes, Yanez.”

  “I hope you aren’t planning to visit the villa during the day.”

  “No, of course not… But tonight no one will hold me back… Twelve hours!… What torture!…”

  “Time passes quickly in the jungle, Sandokan,” Yanez replied with a smile.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Lead on.”

  They slung their carbines over their shoulders, filled their pockets with ammunition and entered the jungle, trying, however, to remain within sight of the water.

  “We’ll avoid the inlets along the coast,” said Sandokan. “The way will be a little more difficult, but it’ll be shorter.”

  “Try not to get us lost.”

  “Trust me, Yanez!”

  Game trails were rare in that sea of vegetation, but Sandokan was a veteran of the jungle and did not need the sun to get his bearings. They headed south, keeping close to shore, looking for the brook where his prahus had sheltered during his first expedition.

  Once there, it was just a few kilometres to the villa. Their advance, however, grew more difficult due to the damage wrought by the hurricane. Numerous trees, felled by the wind, loomed before them, forcing the pirates to find alternate ways around them. Mounds of branches blocked their path, but the two men, krises drawn, hacked their way forward, slicing through roots and vines, jumping over fallen timber, striving with great difficulty to stay close to shore. Then, towards noon, Sandokan finally came to a halt.

  “We’re close,” he announced, turning to Yanez.

  “To the brook or the villa?”

  “The brook,” replied Sandokan, “Hear that gurgling sound?”

  “Yes,” replied Yanez, after having listened for a few seconds. “Is that the brook we’re looking for?”

  “I’m certain of it. I’ve been through here before.”

  “Let’s go forward then.”

  They quickly traversed that last patch of forest and ten minutes later the two were standing before a small brook that emptied into a beautiful bay enclosed by enormous trees. Chance had led them to that same spot where the prahus from the first expedition had landed. One could still see the vestiges of the second ship’s repairs, made after she had been pushed back by the cruiser’s deadly shelling; beams, sails, cannonballs and broken planks lay strewn about the ground. Sandokan cast a melancholy look upon the gloomy reminders of his previous defeat, as he remembered the brave men that had been killed by the cruiser’s implacable fire.

  “They’re resting down there, just outside the bay, at the bottom of the sea,” he sadly told Yanez. “Our poor dead… still unavenged!”

  “Is this where you landed?”

  “Yes, Yanez. I was still the invulnerable Tiger of Malaysia then, I did not have these chains around my heart. I fought savagely, dragging my men on the attack with wild fury, but the British destroyed us. The wretches showered us with metal and steel from over there! I can still see them, just as they were that terrible night. What a terrible fight, Yanez, what a battle! All fell except for one man… me…”

  “Do you still regret that loss, Sandokan?”

  “I don’t know. If I hadn’t been wounded by that bullet, I would never have met Marianna.”

  He fell silent and headed towards the shore, his eyes trying to peer beneath the azure waters of the bay, then he stopped, crossed his arms and showed Yanez the spot where the boarding took place.

  “The prahus are resting down there,” he said. “Who knows how many dead still lie within their hulls.”

  He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, rested his head upon his hands and immersed himself in thought. Yanez left him to his meditations and went off to explore the reef, poking about the cracks and crevices with a sharpened stick, attempting to find a giant oyster. After having searched about for a quarter of an hour, he returned to the beach with one so large he barely managed to carry it. Starting a fire and opening it took only minutes.

  “Now, little brother, leave your prahus underwater and the dead to the fish, and come try some of this exquisite oyster. Dwelling on the past won’t bring them back.”

  “You’re right, Yanez,” sighed Sandokan. “Nothing will bring those brave men back to life.”

  Breakfast was delicious. The oyster meat was tender and succulent much to the Portuguese’s delight, the sea air and the walk through the forest having given him quite an appetite. After that abundant meal, Yanez attempted to stretch out beneath the branches of a superb durian tree that towered over the bank of the brook, intending to smoke a couple of cigarettes, but Sandokan quickly pointed him towards the jungle.

  “We’re pretty close to the villa,” he said.

  “You don’t know exactly where it is?”

  “Vaguely, I was delirious the last time I ran through here. But there’s no need to worry, I’ll find the path to the garden.”

  “Well, since you’re so restless, we might as well go. Promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

  “I’ll be careful, Yanez.”

  “Promise?!”

  “You have my word.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They followed the right bank of the brook for a while then headed determinedly into the jungle. The hurricane had been exceedingly violent on that part of the island. Numerous trees had been uprooted by the wind; some hung in the air, held up by vines, others lay flat against the ground. Bushes, branches, fruit and leaves were strewn about, a few wounded monkeys wailed from among the infinite mounds of debris.

  Despite those numerous obstacles, Sandokan did not stop. He marched until sunset, without once hesitating on the path to take. Night was falling and the pirate was beginning to doubt whether he would ever see the villa again when he suddenly found himself before a wide path.

  “What is it?” asked the Portuguese, seeing him stop.

  “The villa is nearby,” whispered Sandokan. “This path leads to the garden.”

  “What luck, little brother! Forward then, but remember, caution above—”

  Sandokan did not wait for him to finish. He loaded his carbine and raced down the path with such speed the Portuguese struggled to keep up with him.

  “Marianna! My love!” he exclaimed, devouring the path before him. “I’ve come back!”

  At that moment, the pirate would have toppled an entire regiment to reach the villa. He feared no one; death itself would not have made him stop. Fire coursed through his veins as a thousand worries crept into his thoughts. He feared being too late, to no longer find the woman he loved. He ran harder, abandoning every precaution, smashing through bushes and branches, slicing
through vines, leaping over every obstacle that appeared before him.

  “Sandokan, you reckless fool!” shouted Yanez, trying to keep up with him as best he could. “Wait until I catch up to you at least! Stop! Stop! I’m about to explode!”

  “To the villa! To the villa!” the pirate invariably replied.

  He ran until he reached the garden’s outer wall then stopped at last to wait for his friend.

  “Finally!” exclaimed the Portuguese, catching up to him. “That was sheer folly! Do you think I enjoy running through the jungle at breakneck speed? The villa isn’t going to get up and run away, believe me! We’ve got to be cautious, there’s no telling what we’ll find on the other side of this wall.”

  “I’m not afraid of the British,” replied the Tiger excitedly.

  “I know, but if you get yourself killed you won’t see your beloved Marianna!”

  “But I can’t stay here, I have to see her!”

  “You’ve got to get a hold of yourself, little brother. You’re much too excited to think clearly. Let me take it from here.”

  He gestured for his friend to be quiet, climbed the wall with the agility of a cat and carefully scanned the garden.

  “There doesn’t seem to be any guards about,” he said. “Let’s go in.”

  He dropped down to the other side, Sandokan landing by him a moment later. The two men headed silently into the garden, hiding among the bushes and flowerbeds, eyes fixed on the villa, its outline barely visible in the darkness. They were almost within a pistol shot of it, when Sandokan halted suddenly.

  “Stop, Yanez,” he whispered.

  “What did you see?”

  “Some people standing in front of the villa.”

  “Could it be his lordship and Marianna?”

  Sandokan, whose heart was pounding furiously, got up slowly and focused his eyes on the human forms.

  “Damn!” he whispered. “Soldiers!”

  “The plot thickens!” grumbled the Portuguese. “What now?”

  “If there are soldiers here, it’s a sign Marianna is still in the villa.”

  “I agree.”

  “We’ll attack!”

  “Attack?! Are you mad? Do you want to get yourself shot? There are only two of us and perhaps ten, twenty, maybe even thirty of them.”

  “But I have to see her!” exclaimed Sandokan, verging on madness. “I have to see her!”

  “Get a hold of yourself, little brother!” said Yanez, grabbing him tightly by the arm to guard against an act of folly. “Get a hold of yourself and perhaps you’ll see her.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll wait until it gets dark.”

  “And then?”

  “I have a plan. But for now let’s go somewhere and rest. Try to stifle that pounding heart of yours and I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  “But the soldiers—”

  “By Jupiter! I hope they plan to go to sleep at some point.”

  “You’re right, Yanez. I’ll wait.”

  Keeping an eye on the soldiers, they hid behind a thick bush and began their vigil. Two, three, four hours passed uneventfully - they seemed like four centuries to Sandokan - before the soldiers finally entered the villa, noisily closing the door behind them.

  The Tiger was about to run forward, but the Portuguese quickly grabbed his arm and dragged him beneath the dark shade of a large pomelo tree. He crossed his arms, fixed his eyes on his friend and asked, “Sandokan, what do you hope to accomplish here this evening?”

  “See her!”

  “Do you think it’s going to be easy? Do you even have a plan?”

  “No, but—”

  “Does she know you’re here?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then we have to call out to her.”

  “Yes.”

  “And then the soldiers will come out as well, because it’s highly unlikely they’re all deaf, and then, inevitably, they’ll start shooting at us.”

  Sandokan did not reply.

  “So you see, my good friend, I don’t think we’ll be able to do anything tonight.”

  “I can climb to the window,” said Sandokan.

  “Oh, so you failed to notice that soldier hiding near the corner of the gazebo?”

  “The soldier?”

  “Yes, Sandokan. Look, you can just see his rifle barrel glinting in the moonlight.”

  “What do you suggest I do then? Quickly, tell me. This fever is devouring me.”

  “Do you know what part of the garden Marianna likes to frequent?”

  “She goes to the Chinese gazebo every morning.”

  “Great. Where is it?”

  “Near here.”

  “Take me there.”

  “What do you intend to do, Yanez?”

  “We have to let her know we’re here.”

  Though not wanting to lose sight of the villa, the Tiger of Malaysia stifled his pain, headed for a side path and led Yanez to the gazebo. It was a charming pavilion capped by a golden metal dome and surrounded by a garden of lilacs and Chinese roses. The walls were adorned with brightly coloured fretwork.

  Unsure if it was deserted, Yanez and Sandokan drew their carbines and entered. It was empty. Yanez lit a match and spotted a small basket containing knitting needles and balls of yarn resting upon a beautifully crafted table, a mandolin inlaid with mother-of-pearl lay beside it.

  “Her things?” Yanez asked Sandokan.

  “Yes,” replied the latter with a voice that had become infinitely sweet. “It’s her favourite place. She comes here to smell the lilacs and sing the beautiful songs of her distant homeland. This is where she pledged her eternal love to me.”

  Yanez tore a piece of paper from a book, drew a pencil from one of his pockets, had Sandokan light another match, then wrote the following words:

  We landed yesterday, during the hurricane. We’ll be beneath your window tomorrow at midnight. Have a rope ready to aid Sandokan’s climb.

  Yanez de Gomera

  “I hope my name isn’t unknown to her.”

  “Oh no!” replied Sandokan. “She knows you’re my best friend.”

  The two pirates looked at each other. One was calm, the other overcome with emotion.

  “Let’s go, Sandokan,” said Yanez.

  “Lead the way,” replied the Tiger, stifling a sigh.

  Five minutes later, they climbed the wall surrounding the garden and returned to the forest.

  Chapter 17

  The Rendezvous

  THE NIGHT WAS tempestuous for the hurricane had not completely subsided. The wind howled and roared beneath the undergrowth with a thousand voices, twisting branches, swirling up clouds of leaves and vines, bending and rattling the trees as it swept through the jungle. From time to time, lightning shattered the darkness, occasionally setting fire to one of the giants of the forest.

  It was a perfect night for an attack. Their path lit by the odd flashes of lightning, Sandokan and Yanez determinedly made their way towards the brook, hoping to find their prahus sheltering in the bay.

  Ignoring the pelting rain, and carefully weaving through the shower of leaves and branches, in less than two hours the two men unexpectedly arrived near the mouth of the brook, completing the trip in half the time it had taken to get to the villa.

  “We did a better job of finding our way in the dark than we did in broad daylight,” said Yanez. “A stroke of luck with such a night.”

  Sandokan walked down the bank of the brook, waited for a flash of lightning and quickly scanned the waters.

  “Not a trace of them,” he said dully.

  “They may not have left their shelters yet,” replied the Portuguese. “They probably realized another hurricane was approaching and decided not to set sail.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this, Yanez. I’m almost certain they sank.”

  “Bah! I wouldn’t give up on them just yet. Our ships are solid. They’ll be here in a couple of days. You told them to meet us in
this bay, right?”

  “Right.”

  “They’ll come. Let’s find some shelter, Sandokan. It’s raining buckets and this hurricane isn’t going to subside anytime soon.”

  “Where to go? There’s the hut Giro-Batol used, but I don’t think I’d be able to find it.”

  “Let’s head into that banana grove. Those giant leaves should provide us with adequate shelter.”

  “Better yet, let’s build an attap, Yanez.”

  “Good idea! We’ll have one up in a minutes.”

  They drew their krises, cut down a few bamboo trees from along the bank of the brook and planted them beneath a superb pomelo, tree its thick leaves helping to shelter them from the rain. They set up the poles like a tent frame then covered them with giant banana leaves, laying down enough layers to keep the water out.

  As Yanez had predicted, a few minutes had sufficed to build the shelter. The two pirates got beneath it, taking a bunch of bananas with them and after a meagre dinner, attempted to fall asleep.

  The hurricane begun to intensify, thunder and lightning adding their deafening roars to the howls of the wind.

  Several times Yanez and Sandokan were forced to rise and add another layer of banana leaves to the roof to shelter themselves from the heavy rain. Towards dawn, however, the storm began to break, allowing the two pirates to finally drift off to sleep.

  “Let’s go look for breakfast,” said Yanez, when he awoke. “With any luck, I’ll be able to find a couple of oysters.”

  The Portuguese headed towards the bay, following the southern shore. Looking through the many reefs, he managed to find several dozen giant oysters and a few crustaceans. He then added a few bananas, a few pomelos, and a couple of large oranges. Breakfast completed, the two men set off, following the coast northward in hope of sighting one of their prahus, but to their chagrin the water was clear to the horizon.

  “The storm must have prevented them from setting sailing,” said Yanez. “The wind has been blowing constantly since noon.”

  “I’m a little worried about them, my friend,” replied the Tiger of Malaysia. “They’re long overdue and I’m beginning to fear the worst.”

  “Bah! Our men are all capable seamen.”