Sandokan: The Tigers of Mompracem (The Sandokan Series Book 1) Page 5

  “I’m happy to see you resting; your delirium made you toss and turn for three days.”

  “Three days!” Sandokan exclaimed, surprised. “I’ve been here for three days? This isn’t a dream then?”

  “No, my friend, I can assure you this isn’t a dream. You’re in the hands of good people, who nursed you with the greatest of care, and who will do everything to assist your full recovery.”

  “And who have I the pleasure of addressing?”

  “Lord James Guillonk, Captain in the service of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria.”

  Sandokan started and his brow darkened, but he quickly recovered himself, and with a supreme effort to hide the hatred he felt for all that was British said, “I thank you, Milord, for all you’ve done for me, a stranger, who, for all you knew, could have been a mortal enemy.”

  “It was my duty to take a man wounded as you were into my house. Your wounds could have been fatal,” replied his lordship. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Strong enough I suppose, I no longer feel any pain.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been wondering what happened to you. I extracted a few bullets from your chest and your body was covered with cuts and bruises. I’d be interested in hearing your story, unless of course, the memory is still too painful.”

  Despite expecting this question, Sandokan started. But he did not give himself away, nor did he lose spirit.

  “In truth, I do not know,” he replied. “One night, several men attacked my ship, boarded it and slaughtered my crew. I’m unaware of their identities… I did not recognize them… after a brief struggle I fell into the sea, shot in the chest.”

  “You were undoubtedly attacked by the Tiger of Malaysia’s men,” said Lord James.

  “Pirates!” exclaimed Sandokan.

  “Yes, the Tigers of Mompracem. Three days ago they attempted a raid on this island, but their ship was destroyed by one of our cruisers. Where were you attacked?”

  “Near the Romades.”

  “You swam all the way here?”

  “I grabbed on to some wreckage. Where did you find me?”

  “Lying on the grass; you were delirious. Where were you heading when you were attacked?”

  “I was on my way to deliver gifts to the Sultan of Varauni, on behalf of my brother.”

  “Your brother?”

  “The Sultan of Shaja.”

  “You’re a Malay prince then!” exclaimed his lordship, extending his hand.

  Sandokan hesitated for a moment then shook it, hiding his revulsion.

  “Yes, Milord.”

  “I’m honoured to have you as my guest, and I’ll do my best to ensure you’re not bored once your health returns. Then, if you find it agreeable, we can visit the Sultan of Varauni together.”

  “Certainly and—”

  He paused and turned his head, his words interrupted by the sweet sounds of a mandolin coming through the window, perhaps the same sweet sounds he had heard earlier.

  “Milord!” he exclaimed excitedly, overcome by a feeling he could not explain, “Who’s playing that music?”

  “Does it matter, my good prince?” his lordship asked with a smile.

  “I do not know… but I have a strong desire to see the person who’s playing so divinely. It’s like the music is touching my heart. It’s inexplicable.”

  “Wait a few minutes.”

  He gestured for Sandokan to lie down and went out. The pirate laid his head back on his pillow, but sprang back up almost immediately. The inexplicable emotion that had gripped him at first had now taken hold of him with even greater intensity. Blood raced furiously through his veins and his heart beat rapidly.

  “What feelings are these?” he murmured. “Is the delirium coming back?”

  He had just uttered these words, when his lordship re-entered, but this time he was not alone. Behind him advanced a beautiful young woman, at whose appearance Sandokan could not hold back an exclamation of surprise and admiration.

  She was about seventeen, petite, slender and elegant, with a waist so thin an arm could stretch round it. She had fine delicate features, rosy skin and eyes as blue as the sea. Long blonde hair cascaded down the back of her white dress in soft waves of shimmering gold.

  At the sight of her, the pirate shook to the very depths of his soul. His heart, which had been beating quickly, now burned, pumping fire through his veins.

  “Well, my dear prince, what do you think of our lovely young musician?” asked his lordship.

  Sandokan did not reply. He remained stone still, staring fixedly at the young woman, barely able to breathe.

  “Do you feel ill?” asked his lordship, observing him.

  “No!… No!…” the pirate exclaimed eagerly, his voice trembling slightly.

  “Then allow me to present you to my niece, Lady Marianna Guillonk.”

  “Marianna Guillonk!… Marianna Guillonk!…” Sandokan repeated excitedly.

  “What do you find so strange in my name?” asked the young woman with a smile. “It seems to have given you quite a shock.”

  At the sound of that voice, Sandokan started strongly. Never had such a sweet sound caressed his ears, ears accustomed only to cannon fire and the cries of battle.

  “Strange? Nothing…” he said, his voice altered slightly. “It’s just that your name is not new to me.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed his lordship. “And where have you heard it?”

  “I read it a little while ago on the cover of that book over there, and I imagined the owner had to be a delightful young woman.”

  “Surely you jest,” said the young lady, blushing. Then changing tone, she asked, “Is it true you were attacked by pirates?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Sandokan replied hoarsely. “They gravely wounded me, but I’ll heal, and then woe to those men who reduced me to such a state.”

  “Are you in much pain?”

  “No, Milady, and now even less so.”

  “I hope you get better soon.”

  “Our prince is a hardy fellow,” said his lordship, “I wouldn’t be surprised to see him on his feet in ten days or so.”

  “I hope so,” replied Sandokan.

  The pirate, who throughout the discussion had never taken his eyes from the young woman’s face, noting that her cheeks would blush slightly from time to time, suddenly sat upright.

  “Milady!” he exclaimed.

  “Are you all right?” asked the young woman as she drew a little closer to him.

  “Tell me, do you bare another name, infinitely sweeter than that of Marianna Guillonk?”

  “What?” asked his lordship and the young woman in unison.

  “Yes, yes!” Sandokan exclaimed. “You must be the one they call the Pearl of Labuan!”

  His lordship stepped back in surprise as a deep frown formed on his brow.

  “My friend,” he said gravely, “How do you know of this, if as you have just told me, you come from Shaja?”

  “My nickname couldn’t possible have reached all the way to your far shores,” added Lady Marianna.

  “I didn’t hear it in Shaja,” replied Sandokan, realizing he had almost given himself away, “but in the Romades, where I disembarked a few days ago. There they spoke of a young woman of incomparable beauty, with eyes the colour of the sea and hair that smelled like the jasmine of Borneo; a skilled hunter that rode like an Amazon; a young woman who would often appear on the shores of Labuan at sunset, charming the fishermen with a voice sweeter than the murmur of a stream. Ah, Milady, I too one day hoped to hear that voice!”

  “They attribute such talent to me!” laughed the young woman.

  “Yes, and now that I’ve met you, I see that every word was true!” the pirate exclaimed passionately.

  “Flatterer,” she said.

  “My dear niece,” added his lordship, “You’ll end up bewitching our prince as well.”

  “I’m sure of it!” exclaimed Sandokan. “And when I return home, I’ll tell my coun
trymen that a young woman has captured the heart of a man who thought himself invulnerable.”

  They talked for a while longer, touching on Sandokan’s homeland, the pirates of Mompracem, and Labuan. Then, night having fallen, his lordship and the young woman retired to their rooms.

  Once the pirate was alone, he remained still for a long time, his eyes fixed on the door through which the lovely young woman had exited. He seemed anxious and absorbed in deep thought. Perhaps in that heart of his, unaccustomed to feeling tender emotions, there raged a terrible storm.

  A dull moan formed at the bottom of his throat, ready to erupt, but his teeth remained clenched, and his lips would not break their seal. He remained that way for several minutes, his brow covered in perspiration, his hands clutching his thick long hair. Then his lips parted and he uttered a name.

  “Marianna!”

  The single word seemed to shatter his last defences.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed almost angrily, wringing his hands. “I think I’m going mad… I think I’m falling in love.”

  Chapter 7

  Recovery and Love

  LADY MARIANNA GUILLONK was born beneath beautiful Italian skies, on the shores of the magnificent Bay of Naples, daughter to an Italian mother and a British father. Orphaned at age eleven and heiress to a sizable fortune, she was sent to live with her uncle James, her only relative, then living in Europe.

  In those days, James Guillonk was one of the most intrepid wolves to sail the Seven Seas. He owned a large ship and had had it armed and fitted for war. He worked with James Brooke, the man who later became Rajah of Sarawak, and helped him carry out his extermination of Malay pirates, the greatest scourge to British commerce in those distant lands.

  Lord James was as rough as any sailor and far from a family man, with little warmth for those around him, but even though he had no affection for his young niece, rather than entrusting her to strangers, he took her aboard his ship and sailed off to Borneo.

  For three years the young girl witnessed countless bloody battles in which thousands of pirates perished, battles that gave the future Rajah Brooke a mixed celebrity, simultaneously drawing the outrage and admiration of his countrymen. Then one day, grown weary of the bloodshed, Lord James suddenly remembered he had a niece. He decided to abandon the sea, and established himself in Labuan, where he built a home among the island’s vast jungles.

  Lady Marianna was then approaching her fourteenth year, and though on the surface she appeared to be a typical young woman, in that short time she had acquired extraordinary boldness and energy. Believing she would be unable to adapt to that almost primitive isolation, she attempted to rebel against her uncle’s wishes, but the old sea wolf remained inflexible. Forced to submit to that strange imprisonment, she dedicated herself to her education, which life at sea had caused her to neglect.

  Strong-willed and determined, bit by bit she began to change, taming the ferocious instincts acquired in those tough, blood-filled battles, and refining the rough manners picked up from constant contact with the seafarers that manned her uncle’s ship. She devoted herself to music and the fine arts, receiving her schooling from one of her mother’s old friends, who later passed away due to the harsh tropical climate. Though she retained traces of her ancient boldness, as her education progressed, she slowly became kinder, more charitable, and well mannered.

  However, she still loved action and adventure. Quite frequently that indomitable Amazon would go into the jungle and hunt tigers, or, intrepid swimmer that she was, would fight the waves in the azure waters of the South China Sea; but most often she could be found where misery and ill fortune flourished, helping the Malays in the nearby villages, the very people Lord James hated so intensely, descendants of the pirates he had attempted to destroy.

  And so that young woman, thanks to her beauty, generosity and fearlessness, had earned the name Pearl of Labuan, a nickname that had travelled over great distances, and made the heart of the formidable Tiger of Malaysia beat so wildly.

  Surrounded by jungle, far from civilization, Marianna never experienced longing or desire; but at the first sight of that proud Malay prince, she felt a strange, inexplicable stirring within her. She tried to ignore it, but saw always before her eyes - and at night in her dreams - that man with the proud appearance, who had the nobility of a sultan and the gallantry of a European knight, that man with the sparkling eyes and long black hair, whose face shone with indomitable courage and great energy. Having charmed him with her eyes, her voice, and her beauty, she in turn, had been charmed and conquered.

  At first she had tried to fight those feelings, for her a new sensation, just as they were new for Sandokan, but her every effort ended in vain. An irresistible force seemed to draw her to him, for she was never at ease until she was with him, never happy until she was sitting at his bedside, easing the pain of his wounds with her smiles, music and conversation.

  In those moments when she sang the sweet songs of her distant homeland, accompanied by the delicate sounds of her mandolin, Sandokan was no longer the Tiger of Malaysia, no longer a bloodthirsty pirate. Speechless, forgetting his pain, and holding his breath so as not to disturb that heavenly voice, he listened like a man in a dream, and when her voice faded with the final note of the mandolin, he would lay there with the stillness of a statue, his eyes fixed upon her, lost in thought as if still listening to those heavenly sounds.

  He forgot all about his Mompracem, his prahus, his Tigers and his Portuguese friend, who believing his captain gone for all eternity, was perhaps at that time avenging his death with all sorts of bloody vendettas.

  The days flew by quickly and his recovery, aided enormously by the passion he felt for the young woman, proceeded swiftly. On the afternoon of the fifteenth day, Lord James entered his room and found the pirate out of bed preparing to go out.

  “Ah, my good friend!” he exclaimed. “I’m happy to see you up!”

  “I couldn’t stay in bed any longer, Milord!” replied Sandokan. “I feel as strong as a tiger.”

  “Great, then we’ll put you to the test immediately!”

  “In what way?”

  “A tiger’s been prowling about my garden walls. I promised my friends there’d be a hunt to get rid of the beast. Now that you’re fully recovered, I’ll inform them the hunt has been set for tomorrow morning.”

  “I’d be glad to join you, Milord!”

  “Happy to hear it. Now that you’re better, I hope you’ll stay for a while longer as my guest.”

  “I would like nothing better, Milord, but serious business calls me elsewhere; I must make plans to depart.”

  “Depart! Don’t even think it; there’s always time for business. In fairness, I must warn you that I plan not to allow you to leave for at least a month; now promise me you’ll stay.”

  Sandokan’s eyes flashed. Staying at the villa, near the young woman who had charmed him so, meant life, meant everything. He could not ask for more. What did it matter if, at that moment, the pirates of Mompracem were mourning his loss, as long as he could spend a few more days with that divine young woman? What did it matter if Yanez was anxiously scouring the nearby islands, putting his very life in danger, when there was a chance Marianna would fall for him? What did it matter if he would no longer hear the thunder of artillery fire, when he could still listen to the delightful voice of the woman he loved, a woman who made him feel the most sublime emotions? And, in the end, what did it matter if he ran the risk of being discovered, imprisoned, perhaps even killed, when he could still breathe the same air Marianna breathed, and live where she lived? He would have forgotten everything for her, his ships, his Tigers, his Mompracem, even his vendettas.

  “Yes, Milord, I’ll stay for as long as you like,” he said impulsively. “I’ll gladly accept your kind hospitality and if ever there comes a day, - do not forget these words, Milord, - when we should meet no longer friends, but dire enemies, I would still repay the debt I owe you.”

  The Engli
shman looked at him in astonishment.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Perhaps you’ll know one day,” Sandokan replied gravely.

  “I won’t pry into your secrets,” his lordship said with a smile. “I’ll wait for that day.” He drew out his watch and looked at it. “I’ll have to set off immediately if I’m to inform my friends of tomorrow’s hunt. Until later, Highness.”

  He was about to leave the room, then paused, turned and said, “If you’re in the mood for some conversation, go down to the garden. My niece is there. I’m sure she’ll be good company.”

  “Thank you, Milord.”

  That was indeed what Sandokan desired, to be alone with the young woman, even if only for a few minutes, to tell her of the deep passion devouring his heart. Once alone, he went to the window that looked out onto the immense garden.

  There, in the shade of a Chinese magnolia covered with flowers, sitting on the trunk of a felled areca tree, was the young lady. She was alone, deep in thought, with a mandolin resting on her knees. Blood rushed to Sandokan’s head, and his heart began to beat with indescribable vehemence as he gazed upon her beauty. He remained there, motionless, eyes fixed on the young woman, holding his breath, afraid of making the slightest sound, not wanting to disturb that heavenly vision.

  At one point, he drew back, barely stifling a cry, a ferocious look upon his face. The Tiger of Malaysia, until then charmed and bewitched, had suddenly reawakened. He had become the fierce, merciless, bloodthirsty warrior once again, with an iron heart impervious to love.

  “What madness is this!” he exclaimed hoarsely, running a hand over his burning brow.

  How could he possibly love that young woman? Was it a dream or inexplicable madness? Was he no longer the ruthless pirate of Mompracem? How could he possibly be drawn to the daughter of a race he had vowed to hate for all eternity? How could he be in love, he who had never felt anything other than hatred and who bore the name of a savage beast? How could he forget his Mompracem, his faithful Tigers, his good friend Yanez, all awaiting his return, thinking who knows what… Had he forgotten that the young woman’s countrymen were only waiting for the right moment to destroy him?