Sandokan: The Two Tigers (The Sandokan Series Book 4) Read online

  “Fine, we’ll give it a try.”

  Chapter 9

  The Mahant’s Confession

  AT A GESTURE from Sandokan, Sambigliong, who had just received instructions from Tremal-Naik, set off towards a large tamarind tree that stood thirty or forty paces from the pyre.

  He carried a long rope slightly thicker than a hawser; a noose had been fashioned at one end. He tossed it over one of the largest branches, letting out rope until the noose touched the ground. In the meantime, several men had bound the mahant’s arms tightly behind his back and wound two strong thin cords about his armpits.

  The old man had not resisted, but though he had tried to appear indifferent, he could not hide his fear. Large drops of perspiration rolled from his wrinkled brow, his thin body trembled visibly. He must have been familiar with the torture that awaited him.

  Once the prisoner had been securely bound, Tremal-Naik stepped towards him and asked, “Do you wish to reconsider, mahant?”

  The old man gave him a fierce look.

  “No,” he replied hoarsely.

  “There’s no need to be so stubborn, you’ll end up telling us all we wish to know.”

  “I’d rather die.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “My death will be avenged.”

  “I doubt it. Your friends are long gone; they’ve abandoned you to your plight.”

  “Once Suyodhana hears of it, you’ll feel the sting of his noose.”

  “We do not fear him; we laugh at your goddess Kali, and her legion of Thugs. I ask you for the last time, will you tell us where Suyodhana is? Will you tell us where he’s hiding my daughter?”

  “Go ask him yourself,” the mahant replied bitterly.

  “Very well, he’s all yours.”

  The four Malays pushed the old man towards the tree.

  Sambigliong fixed the rope about the mahant’s waist, tightening it beneath his ribs so that the knot pressed against his stomach.

  “Pull him up,” he shouted.

  The Malays grabbed the other end of the rope and hoisted the mahant a few metres into the air.

  The old witchdoctor howled in agony as the knot tightened and pressed against his flesh. Everyone had gathered about the tree. Sandokan and Yanez stood alongside the Bengali, studying that unfamiliar method of torture with great interest. The Portuguese calmly lit another cigarette.

  “Give him a push,” Tremal-Naik commanded. “Let him swing a bit, ignore his cries.”

  Four Malays went and stood on either side of the prisoner and began to push him back and forth.

  The rope tightened more and more with every swing, and the mahant clenched his teeth to stifle his cries of pain. The Malays pushed him harder, making him swing faster and faster.

  The old man’s eyes began to bulge and his breathing grew erratic as the rope pressed harder against his lungs.

  The rope pierced his skin on the fifth swing, and the wretch let out a cry of agony. “Enough!” he shouted hoarsely. “Enough, enough, you dogs!”

  “Will you talk now?” asked Tremal-Naik, drawing a few steps closer.

  “Yes… yes… I’ll tell you… everything… just… cut me down… I can… hardly… breathe.”

  “If you change your mind, we’ll begin again.”

  He had the Malays stop the swinging, then added: “Where’s Suyodhana? Tell me and I’ll cut you down.”

  The mahant hesitated for a few seconds, but the fear of another round of torture quickly put an end to his defiance.

  “I’ll tell you,” he said finally, grimacing painfully.

  “Excellent. Where is he?”

  “On Rajmangal.”

  “In the old caverns?”

  “Yes… yes… enough… you’re killing me…”

  “One more question,” said the implacable Bengali. “Where are they hiding my daughter?”

  “Yes, she’s there as well… the Priestess… on Rajmangal.”

  “Swear it on your goddess.”

  “I swear… upon Kali… Enough… I… can’t… take… anymore.”

  “Cut him down,” commanded Tremal-Naik.

  “It didn’t take long to break him,” said Yanez, tossing away his cigarette. “These Indians could teach the Spanish Inquisition a trick or two.”

  The mahant was lowered to the ground and his bindings were immediately removed. A deep blue bruise ran round his stomach, threads of blood trickling from where the rope had cut him.

  The Malays let him sit, for the wretch could barely stand; his face was flushed and he was panting heavily.

  Tremal-Naik waited several minutes for him to catch his breath then said, “You’ll remain our prisoner until we can prove that you haven’t lied to us. If you’ve told us the truth, we’ll free you and compensate you for your information; if you’ve lied, I’ll make you suffer the most frightening tortures imaginable. You’ll die our prisoner.”

  The mahant looked at him but remained silent, his eyes blazing with hatred.

  “Where is the entrance to the cavern? Still in the old banyan tree?” asked Tremal-Naik.

  “I do not know, I haven’t been to Rajmangal since McPhearson’s attack,” replied the mahant. “I think it’s been changed.”

  “Is that the truth?”

  “Have I not sworn upon Kali?”

  “If you haven’t been to Rajmangal, how do you know my daughter is being held there?”

  “They told me.”

  “Why did they take her?”

  “The temple needed a new priestess. You made off with the first one; Suyodhana took your daughter, Ada Corishant’s blood flows in her veins.”

  “How many men are there on Rajmangal?”

  “I doubt there are many,” replied the mahant.

  “One more question,” said Sandokan, interjecting, “Do the Thugs have any ships?”

  The old man looked at him for a moment, as if trying to determine the reason behind such a question, then said, “The last time I was on Rajmangal they only had a few dongas. I do not know if Suyodhana has acquired any ships since then.”

  “This man will never tell us all we wish to know,” Yanez said to Sandokan. “We have enough information; it’s best we go before the Thugs return with reinforcements.”

  “What are we going to do with the widow?”

  “We’ll take her with us,” said Tremal-Naik, “she’ll be safer.”

  “Let’s go,” said Yanez. “Do you think the elephants have reached Khari by now?”

  “They’ve probably been there since yesterday.”

  “I can’t wait to see them.”

  “The best tiger hunters money can buy. They were expensive, but worth every rupee.”

  “Excellent. The hunt will soon begin,” replied Yanez. “We’ll see if these Bengal tigers are any match for their Malay counterparts.”

  Two men grabbed the mahant beneath the arms and at a gesture from Sandokan the squadron abandoned the square where the dying embers were slowly consuming the Thug’s remains.

  They passed though the coconut grove without incident and at two that morning boarded the launches, making room for the mahant and the widow.

  The current was favourable and the return trip took very little time. An hour later they were back aboard the prahu. The mahant was locked in one of the cabins below deck and a guard was posted in front of his door.

  “When are we going to set sail?” Tremal-Naik asked Sandokan, before retiring to his cabin.

  “At dawn,” replied the pirate. “I’ve already given the necessary orders. Can we reach Khari before nightfall?”

  “Certainly,” replied Tremal-Naik. “The town is about ten or twelve kilometres from the river.”

  “A short walk then. Goodnight, my friend. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The stars were beginning to fade in the predawn light when the prahu’s crew appeared on deck and began making preparations to depart. As they raised the immense sail, Sambigliong, who was directing the work,
noticed that the two ghrabs that had arrived the previous day had suddenly begun to bustle with activity. Their decks had quickly filled with men and they were rapidly raising sail, determined, it seemed, to set off immediately.

  The Malay had been suspicious of those two mysterious ships since their arrival, for they were manned with crews four times larger than necessary for vessels of that size. Their hurried manoeuvres filled him with unease.

  “Could the Tiger’s suspicions have been correct?” he murmured. Then he turned to Sandokan and said, “Captain, the two ghrabs are raising anchor.”

  “Ah!” replied the pirate. He calmly studied the two sailing ships then said, “Their sudden departure worries you, my brave friend?”

  “It seems odd, Captain. They arrived the day before yesterday, but haven’t loaded so much as a cotton ball, and as soon as they realized we were preparing to set sail, they decided to raise anchor as well. And look at the number of men they have aboard! I’d swear their crew has gotten larger.”

  “They outnumber us two to one, but if they think they’re a threat, they’re very much mistaken. If they attempt to follow us, we’ll give them a taste of our artillery. Take the tiller, Sambigliong; try to avoid hitting any ships.”

  Sails raised and anchors drawn, the Marianna quickly set off, driven forward by the current and the morning breeze.

  One of the two ghrabs had already joined the numerous ships plying the river; the other was preparing to follow.

  Standing on the quarterdeck, Sandokan calmly studied them, taking in every detail. He was not the type to worry; he had measured himself against mightier foes and been victorious; even with their meriams and large crews, that pair of ships would be little more than a nuisance. A hand on his shoulder tore him from his thoughts.

  Yanez and Tremal-Naik had come up to the bridge, followed by Kammamuri.

  “Were your suspicions correct?” asked the Portuguese, “Or is this merely a coincidence?”

  “I’m sure they’re following us,” replied Sandokan. “They may suspect we’re heading for the Sundarbans.”

  “Do you think they’ll attack us?”

  “Not on the river, but they may try their luck at sea.”

  “We won’t be sailing that far,” said Tremal-Naik. “Khari is several leagues from the sea; we have to go ashore before we reach the mouth of the river.”

  “Then we must get rid of those spies,” murmured Sandokan. “We’ll spend the night aboard and go ashore tomorrow morning; we should have an idea of their intentions by then.”

  “If they drop anchor near us again tonight, we’ll ask their captains for an explanation.”

  “Fine, but for now we’ll pretend they’re of no concern to us so as not to arouse their suspicions. Let’s have some tea. Ah! What about the widow?”

  “We’ll leave her at my bungalow in Khari,” replied Tremal-Naik. “She’ll keep Surama company.”

  “We may need the devadasi in the Sundarbans,” said Yanez. “I’d prefer to take her with us.”

  Sandokan gave him a look that made the Portuguese blush like a schoolgirl.

  “Yanez,” he laughed. “Has your heart lost its armour?”

  “I’m getting old,” the Portuguese replied sheepishly.

  “Surama’s eyes should restore your youth,” the Tiger replied with a smile.

  “Careful,” said Tremal-Naik. “Indian women are more dangerous than their Western counterparts.”

  “From what I’ve seen, they’re all quite beautiful and have eyes that can melt the coldest heart,” replied Yanez.

  “Our old legends tell that when Twashtri “The Divine Artisan” created the world, he found that he had exhausted his materials in the making of man, and that no solid elements were left. After much thought, he eventually came to a solution. I’m speaking of Indian women, not Western, Asian, or Malay ones.”

  “Continue,” said Sandokan.

  “He took the curve of the moon, and the swaying of the vines; the clinging of tendrils and the trembling of grass; the slenderness of the reed, and the bloom of flowers; the lightness of leaves, and the tapering of the elephant's trunk; the glances of the fawn, and the humming of bees; the joyous gaiety of sunbeams, the weeping of clouds, and the fickleness of the winds; the timidity of the hare and the vanity of the peacock; the softness of the parrot’s down, and the hardness of diamond; the sweetness of honey and the cruelty of the tiger; the warm glow of fire and the coldness of snow; the chattering of jays and the cooing of the kokila[12]; the hypocrisy of the crane, and the fidelity of the chakravaka.[13]”

  “By Jupiter!” exclaimed Yanez. “That’s quite a list!”

  “Yes,” said Sandokan. “He didn’t leave much out. My dear Yanez, Indian women even have a little of the tiger’s cruelty!”

  “We’re the Tigers of Mompracem,” laughed the Portuguese. “Why should we, or at least why should I be afraid of a young woman who has a little bit of Indian tiger in her?”

  He laughed loudly then suddenly grew serious and said, “They’re following us, Sandokan.”

  “The ghrabs? I see them; they won’t be afloat for long if they decide to attack us.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “That we’ll implement if need be,” Sandokan replied menacingly. “Let them follow for now.”

  The prahu had pulled away from the chaos of ships and boats and was quickly making her way towards the lower course of the river. The two ghrabs were following three or four hundred paces from them, keeping close to the opposite shore.

  Towards sunset, after having sailed past the pilot station in Diamond Harbour, the Marianna entered a large canal, bounded by the riverbed and a thickly wooded island that appeared to extend for several miles. The road to Khari was a short distance from there and Tremal-Naik had chosen this spot to go ashore.

  The crew had just dropped anchor, when the two ghrabs suddenly appeared at the northern end of the canal. Sandokan frowned.

  “Ah!” he said. “They’re still following us? Very well, we’ll take care of them once and for all. Gunners, ready your weapons! Everyone to battle stations! It’s time to fight!”

  Chapter 10

  A Terrible Battle

  AT THE TIGER of Malaysia’s cry, the pirates abruptly stopped their work and rushed towards their commander, howling:

  “To arms!”

  The dreaded Tigers of Mompracem, those formidable pirates of Malaysia, men who had made the British Lion tremble and put an end to the rule of James Brooke, the powerful White Rajah of Sarawak, had reawakened at the prospect of battle.

  Though their thirst for blood and butchery had slumbered for several months, in the blink of an eye, those fifty men rushed to their posts, ready to board the enemy at their captain’s command.

  The gunners stood behind the swivel guns, the others had spread behind the bulwarks and along the quarterdeck, carbines in hand, krises clenched between their teeth, their parangs at their sides.

  Tremal-Naik and Yanez were at the Tiger of Malaysia’s side, studying the two ghrabs from the aft bulwark.

  “Are they preparing to attack?” asked the Bengali.

  “They’re trying to catch us in a crossfire,” replied Sandokan.

  “The scoundrels! They’ve planned it all along. The river is deserted and we’re a good distance from Diamond Harbour. This is the perfect time to strike.”

  “Let them come,” Yanez said calmly. “They may outnumber us, but those Indians are no match for the Tigers of Mompracem. No offence, Tremal-Naik.”

  “I’ve seen the Thugs in battle,” replied the Bengali. “They can’t compete with your Malays.”

  “What are we waiting for, Sandokan?”

  “We won’t fire until fired upon,” replied the Tiger of Malaysia. “If we were at sea, I’d attack in an instant, but here on the river, in British waters, we don’t dare. It could cause us problems with the authorities later on; the last thing we want is to be treated like pirates.”

  “If we
hold our fire, the Thugs will manoeuvre into position.”

  “The Marianna is quick to the helm; she’ll pull away from them when need be. Let them draw as close as they like, we’ll give them quite the reception.”

  “We’ll sink them both,” added Yanez.

  “They have cannons,” said the Bengali.

  “A few meriams with limited range. Their bullets won’t do much damage to our hull,” replied Sandokan. “We’re quite familiar with that kind of artillery, aren’t we, Yanez?”

  “Little more than children’s toys,” replied the Portuguese. “Ah! Ah! See how that one’s advancing? Just as we thought, they’re trying to trap us between them.”

  “Drop a kedge off the bow,” said Sandokan. “Let’s try to fool those scoundrels.”

  The two ghrabs had entered the canal and were slowly drawing nearer, their sails at half mast.

  One advanced along the island while the other kept close to the opposite shore. Their intentions were obvious, now that the prahu had come to a halt in the centre of the canal, they would sail round either side of her and attempt to force her to surrender.

  The decks of the two ships bustled with activity. Men moved about the bow and stern, piling heavy boxes and crates into barricades to shield themselves from enemy fire.

  Unconcerned by those actions, Sandokan continued to study the two ships closely, while Yanez went off to inspect the swivel guns and ordered the crew to ready the grapples so they could board the ships if need be.

  Night had barely fallen and the moon had just begun to peer over the treetops when the two ghrabs tacked simultaneously and drew to within three hundred paces of the prahu, flanking her on either side.

  Immediately a voice from the nearest vessel yelled out in English:

  “Surrender or we’ll sink your ship.”

  Sandokan picked up a megaphone and placed it to his lips.

  “Identify yourselves!” he shouted.

  “We’re with the port authorities,” the same voice shouted back.

  “Show us your papers,” Sandokan replied mockingly.

  “You refuse to obey?”

  “For the moment.”

  “Then we’ll fire upon your ship.”