Sandokan: The Two Tigers (The Sandokan Series Book 4) Page 8

“Do as you must. You may begin at your leisure.”

  Loud frightening cries suddenly erupted from the decks of the two ghrabs.

  “Kali! Kali!”

  Sandokan threw down the megaphone and drew his scimitar.

  “It’s time Tigers of Mompracem!” he shouted. “Cut the rope, we’re going to board her!”

  The Marianna’s crew had responded to the Thugs’ battle cry with a war cry of their own, more savage and more terrible than the one they had just heard.

  The anchor cable was severed with one blow and the prahu set off towards the ghrab closest to the small island.

  At one point a cannon thundered, the blast echoing at length beneath the forest that stretched along the riverbank.

  The ghrab had opened fire with the small meriam on her bow, her gunners believing it would be easy to smash in the prahu’s sides, but the iron plates protecting her hull were barely scratched by those small calibre shells.

  “Show them how it’s done, my Tigers!” thundered Sandokan, taking the tiller.

  A deafening volley followed that command. The pirates, who until then had been crouching behind the bulwarks, sprang to their feet, levelled their carbines and fired at the ghrab’s deck while the gunners swept the enemy ship from bow to stern with their swivel guns.

  The battle had begun with great intensity; men fell aboard both ships, the ghrab’s crew receiving the worst of it.

  Accustomed to war, the pirates did not fire unless sure of hitting their mark, the Thugs, however, fired wildly.

  Bullets rained down upon the Marianna, piercing her sails and blunting her rigging. Unperturbed, Sandokan encouraged his men without pause.

  “That’s it, Tigers of Mompracem! Show them who we are!”

  His men, warriors who had proven their mettle time and again in hundreds upon hundreds of boarding raids, needed no further incitement.

  Leaping like tigers, they jumped onto the bulwarks and scrambled up the ratlines for better aim, ignoring the shells thundering from the ghrab, while the gunners, under Yanez’ command, fired relentlessly at the Indian ship’s masts and sides.

  The battle had barely begun when the second ghrab drew up behind the Marianna and fired her four meriams.

  “Haul to the wind!”

  With a pull of the tiller, Sandokan brought the ship about while Tremal-Naik and Kammamuri rushed to her port side with a handful of artillerymen to respond to that new threat.

  With one swift manoeuvre, the Marianna had escaped from the crossfire and come about to face the two ghrabs, showering them with shells from her carbines and swivel guns. She defended herself brilliantly, with ample lead and steel for both her enemies.

  Yanez now manned one of the swivel guns and had knocked down the first ghrab’s foremast with a well-aimed shot. Men had immediately gone to cut the shrouds and backstays and roll it into the water, but before they could finish, the Portuguese fired another volley of grapeshot and slaughtered a good number of them.

  The Marianna, however, was not yet out of danger, for though the two Indian ships had been barraged with shells, they were still drawing nearer, determined to board the pirate ship from both sides. Confident in their numbers, the Thugs expected to take her easily once upon her deck.

  Tiller in hand, Sandokan tried to escape from their deadly grip with a few rapid manoeuvres. Unfortunately, the canal was too narrow and the wind was too weak for the Marianna to tack away from them.

  Tremal-Naik immediately went to the pirate for further instructions. The courageous Bengali had performed miracles, inflicting considerable losses upon the second ghrab, but had been unable to stop her advance.

  “What now?” he asked Sandokan as he reloaded his carbine. “They’re almost upon us.”

  “We let them come,” replied the Tiger of Malaysia, “then fight them man to man.”

  “They outnumber us four to one.”

  “The odds are still in our favour. Sambigliong!”

  The Malay, who had been firing relentlessly from atop the port ratlines, scrambled down to the quarterdeck in an instant.

  “Take the tiller,” said Sandokan. “We’re going to board them.”

  “Which ship, Captain?”

  “The ghrab off our port side.”

  Then he raced across the deck, his voice thundering, “Prepare to board! To me, Tigers of Mompracem!”

  While Yanez ordered the swivel guns pointed at the second ship to try to keep her at bay, Sambigliong had the five men working the aft rigging adjust the sheet to catch more wind then steered the prahu towards the ghrab.

  “Toss the fenders!” commanded Sandokan. “Ready the grapples!”

  Several men quickly tossed large bales of hemp over the sides to reduce the impact of the collision, while others gathered the grappling hooks spread along the bulwarks, ready to hurl them into the enemy ship’s rigging. Seconds later Sambigliong rammed the Marianna into the ghrab’s port side, driving her bowsprit into the shrouds and ratlines of the enemy ship’s mainmast.

  Surprised by such a daring attack, the Thugs had not even attempted to escape the collision. By the time they thought to pull away, it was already too late. The Tigers of Mompracem were storming the deck, leaping from ratlines, backstays and yards, and jumping from the bowsprit.

  Pistols and scimitars drawn, Sandokan and Tremal-Naik had been the first to rush aboard, while Yanez fired broadside after broadside at the other vessel to prevent her from rushing to the ghrab’s aid.

  The Tigers had attacked and boarded with such speed, they captured the quarterdeck without firing a shot.

  Despite their greater number, the Thugs had fled, scattering in all directions, but at a cry from their captains, they quickly reassembled behind the base of the foremast and charged at their enemies, talwars flailing as they filled the air with ferocious battle cries.

  The clash was terrible, but the heavy parangs wielded by the Tigers of Mompracem soon held the advantage over the Bengalis’ smaller scimitars.

  Unable to hold their ground, they were on the verge of abandoning ship to seek refuge upon the small island, when a cry thundered from the Marianna’s deck.

  “Fire! Fire!”

  With a quick command Sandokan brought the attack to a halt.

  “To the Marianna!”

  He jumped onto the ghrab’s bulwark then leaped onto the prahu’s deck, while Tremal-Naik, with a fistful of men, covered their retreat, skilfully repelling the Thugs’ counterattack.

  Thick smoke poured out of the Marianna’s hatch, engulfing her sails and masts. A small piece of canvas or a bit of rope set ablaze by a volley must have fallen into the hold, setting fire to the spare equipment below.

  Ignoring the volleys from the second ghrab, Sandokan ordered his men to man the pumps then turned and shouted:

  “Sambigliong, get us out of here! Head towards the mouth of the canal! To me, my Tigers!”

  Tremal-Naik, Kammamuri and the rest of the men covering the retreat, jumped onto the deck. The grapples were cut, the sails were adjusted and the Marianna drew back from the ghrab and sailed past the second vessel’s bow. With fire blazing in her hold, retreat was her only option for the flames could ignite the ammunition in her magazine at any moment.

  Fortunately, the Marianna’s rigging had not been badly damaged by the meriam, and she could sail off without any difficulty. Deprived of her foremast, the ghrab they had boarded would not be able to pursue.

  Sandokan took in the situation with a glance and gave Sambigliong a single command: “Head for Diamond Harbour.”

  If the need arose, he could obtain assistance from the pilots stationed there, the Thugs would not dare sail within sight of the British authorities.

  However, the commander of the second ghrab, almost as if he had read Sandokan’s very thoughts, had immediately ordered the crew to hoist sail and cut off the Marianna's escape.

  The enemy gunners had suspended fire for a moment, so as not to strike their sister ship, but at that command meri
ams and carbines began to thunder again, filling the air with a deafening roar.

  At the sight of such stubbornness in an enemy so close to defeat, Sandokan let out a cry of rage.

  “Ah!” he shouted, “You want more? As you wish! Tremal-Naik!”

  Ignoring the bullets hailing down upon the deck, the Bengali had been leading a bucket chain to put out the flames.

  “Yes?”

  “Surama and the widow are still below; have someone bring them above deck, then take another twenty men and tend to the fire.”

  He rushed towards the stern. While he had been giving Tremal-Naik instructions, Yanez had ordered the swivel guns brought from the bow to counter the Indian meriams.

  “We’ve got to get rid of that ghrab, Yanez,” he said.

  “It shouldn’t take long,” the Portuguese replied calmly. “I’ve got just the thing. Let’s see what they can do against a shower of nails and bullets!”

  “You take the two port swivels, I’ll take the two starboard ones,” said Sandokan. “The rest of you keep firing at their battery with your carbines!”

  He bent over one of the two swivel guns and carefully took aim at the ghrab’s bridge. The enemy ship continued to advance as if her crew intended to board the Marianna.

  Two shots thundered from the quarterdeck. The Portuguese and the Tiger of Malaysia had fired simultaneously.

  Struck beneath the crow’s nest, the Indian ship’s foremast began to sway. Seconds later it came crashing down and shattered the port bulwark. Sails and rigging covered the deck and the two small cannons on the forecastle.

  “Fire!” shouted Sandokan. “Sweep the deck!”

  Two more volleys thundered from the prahu. Cries of pain filled the air as the nails pierced flesh and the last of the enemy carbines fell silent. Defeat for the Thugs was imminent; it was only a matter of time.

  Brilliant marksmen, Sandokan and Yanez fired without pause. They riddled the ghrab’s hull and deck with nails, sweeping her from bow to stern. Cannonballs and grapeshot rained down with such speed the enemy crew could not even attempt to remove the fallen mast. The ghrab’s bulwarks crumbled, the rigging fell and the deck began to crack and split. Five minutes later, the mainmast, severed near its base, came crashing down, tipping the ship on her side and exposing her entire deck to the pirates’ fire.

  Her masts and sails now gone the ghrab was little more than kindling, but still the Marianna would not give quarter. Volleys of cannonballs and grapeshot thundered in rapid succession, the Tigers’ carbines slaughtering her crew as they tried to take shelter behind the bulwarks and what little remained of the masts.

  The second ghrab was valiantly trying to come to her aid but without her foremast, she advanced slowly, and though her cannons fired without pause, the shells fell harmlessly into the water.

  “One last broadside and it’ll be over, Yanez,” said Sandokan. “Aim for her waterline.”

  Four shots thundered in rapid succession, tearing as many holes in the enemy’s keel.

  The final blow had been struck.

  Miraculously still afloat, the poor ghrab listed to starboard, dragged down by her mast. Water roared through the holes in her side; she capsized minutes later, spilling her dead and wounded into the water.

  Those who had survived the battle had jumped into the canal; some swam toward the island while others made for the second ghrab, which appeared to have grounded upon a sandbank.

  “Shall we fire a few more rounds?” asked Yanez.

  “Leave them be,” replied Sandokan. “I think they’ve had enough. Sambigliong, take us out!”

  Then he rushed towards the main hatch, where part of the crew was furiously emptying large buckets of water into the thick smoke rising from below.

  “Well?” he asked anxiously.

  “We’re out of danger,” replied Tremal-Naik. “The fire is under control and our men are down in the hold, checking the damage.”

  “Excellent. I’d feared for my Marianna.”

  “What are we going to do now?”

  “We’ll double back up the river then make our way down the other side of the island. It’s best we avoid Diamond Harbour.”

  “The pilots must have heard the cannon blasts.”

  “They would have to have been deaf not to.”

  “We taught the Thugs quite a lesson!”

  “They won’t be bothering us for a while.”

  “What about the other ghrab?”

  “I think she’s run aground, but even if she hasn’t, she’s in no condition to follow,” replied Sandokan. “We should be able to proceed now without fear of anyone spying on us. Can we still make our way to Khari if we go ashore a little further south than we originally planned?”

  “Yes, but we’ll have to cross through the jungle.”

  “It won’t be difficult to cross through ten or twelve miles of bamboo trees. Sambigliong! Sail her round the far end of the island. We’re going back up the Hugli.”

  Chapter 11

  In the Jungle

  AS THE TIGER of Malaysia had predicted, the Marianna, though half the size of the two ghrabs and manned by a much smaller but more experienced crew, had emerged from the battle with very little damage.

  Despite the meriams’ relentless shelling, she had come away with a few severed ropes, a few holes in her sails and a yardarm that need bevelling, damage that could easily be repaired with the tools they had aboard. The hull’s armour plating had easily withstood the one pound shells fired from the enemies’ brass cannons.

  However, seven men had been killed by carbine fire, and ten more had been taken to the infirmary with minor injuries. They were small losses compared to those suffered by their enemy, for the swivel guns, skilfully employed by Yanez and his crew, had slaughtered a good number of the men aboard the ghrabs.

  Victory had been complete. One of the two ships had capsized and sunk, the other had been reduced to little more than kindling; unable to pursue, she had run aground on a sandbar. Kali’s cruel devotees must have surely been disappointed with the outcome of their first battle against the infamous Tigers of Mompracem, adversaries they thought they could have easily destroyed with a quick attack on the Hugli.

  With Sambigliong now at the tiller, the Marianna quickly reached the northern tip of the small island, tacked and began to sail down the river, just as the second ghrab disappeared beneath the waters of the canal.

  Tremal-Naik and his men having put out the fire, the prahu was now out of danger and could advance without fear of being followed. As several Thugs had taken refuge on the small island, Sandokan, fearing an ambush, had the Marianna sail towards the opposite bank to keep her out of range of enemy bullets.

  “Where shall we go ashore?” Yanez asked Sandokan, who was studying the riverbank.

  “We’ll sail down the river a few more miles,” replied the Tiger of Malaysia. “I want to put as much distance between us and the Thugs as possible.”

  “Are we far from the village?”

  “Tremal-Naik said it was only a few kilometres from the shore. However, we’ll have to cross through jungle.”

  “It shouldn’t be any harder than crossing the jungles of Borneo.”

  “You said those giant reeds were infested with tigers.”

  “Bah! We’ll take care of them if need be. If we’re going to pose as tiger hunters, we’ll have to kill a few eventually.”

  “True, Yanez,” Sandokan replied with a smile.

  “Do you think the Thugs have guessed our plans?”

  “In part, perhaps. They probably expect us to sail up the Mangal and attack their lair from the river.”

  “They may try to attack the ship once again.”

  “It’s possible, Yanez, but I doubt they’ll fare any better. Sambigliong will take good care of her, and once she reaches the Rajmatla canal, he’ll take down the masts and cover the ship with grass and reeds. The Thugs will never find her.”

  “How are we going to stay in contact them
? We may need their help.”

  “Kammamuri will come find us in the jungle if necessary.”

  “He’s staying aboard with Sambigliong?”

  “Yes, at least until the Marianna reaches Rajmatla. He knows the area well; he’ll find the perfect hiding place for her. The Thugs have proven to be more cunning than expected, but we’ll outsmart them in the end. We’ll drown them all in their caverns, you have my word.”

  “Make sure Sambigliong keeps the mahant under heavy guard. If the old man escapes, we’ll lose the element of surprise.”

  “No need to fear, Yanez,” said Sandokan. “There’ll be a guard in his cabin at all times.”

  “Are we going ashore?” asked a voice from behind them. “We’ve already sailed past the island; I wouldn’t recommend straying too far from the road to Khari. The jungle is quite dangerous.”

  It was Tremal-Naik. He had already given Sambigliong the order to sail towards the opposite riverbank.

  “We’re ready,” replied Sandokan. “Have the men prepare a launch.”

  “We’re close to one of the refuge towers, I suggest we spend the night there,” said Tremal-Naik. “It won’t be luxurious, but it’ll be comfortable enough.”

  “How many men are we taking?” asked Yanez.

  “The six we’ve picked should suffice,” replied Sandokan. “A larger number could arouse the Thugs’ suspicions once word of us reaches Rajmangal.”

  “What about Surama?”

  “She’ll come with us, she could prove valuable.”

  The Marianna had come to a stop two hundred paces from the riverbank, and a whaleboat had immediately been lowered into the water.

  Sandokan gave Kammamuri and Sambigliong his last instructions, advised them to be cautious, then went down into the launch where six pirates, Surama and the widow awaited him.

  Two minutes later they had crossed the river and stepped ashore by the outskirts of the immense jungle, a few paces from the refuge tower that stood alone among the thorny reeds and thick bushes that covered the shore.

  They unloaded their carbines and some provisions, then dismissed the launch and made their way towards the shelter. It was a tower similar to the one Sandokan and Yanez had spotted near the mouth of the river, built of wood, a half-dozen metres high, with four signs in English, Sanskrit, French and German painted in large black letters, warning castaways to ration the food provided on the upper story and to wait for the supply boat.