One Maid's Mischief Part 122

"Yes, broad daybreak!" said the doctor, chuckling; and the next minute the boat was under weigh, with Yusuf and a crew to use the poles for punting over the shallows.

The desire was strong in the doctor to devote himself a good deal to the pursuit of his hobby, but he sternly put it down.

"No, Chumbley," he said, "not this time. I'm a weak man, and I talked to you about Sol--ahem!--about my hobby, eh? Didn't say it that time-- and if we come across anything relating to Oph--I mean my hobby--why, well and good, we'll investigate it; but I mean business; and Yusuf here has given me good hopes of being successful, for of course it is absurd to imagine that they have killed poor old Arthur!"

"What do you propose doing first, then?" said Chumbley, rousing himself from a drowsy contemplation of the banks, and thinking how pleasantly life would glide on in a place like this.

"I think I shall leave Yusuf to follow his own bent," replied the doctor. "He is a close, dry fellow, but he seems to know a great deal, and he will not speak till he is sure. That is it, is it not, Yusuf?"

"Yes, master," said the Malay, who was toiling hard with the doctor's old boatman Ismael. "If I said to the chiefs I know where the Christian priest is, and took them to the place and he was not there, they would be angry. So I will take them to the place I think of. If the Christian priest is there, it is good. If he is not, the misfortune is not so bad, and the chiefs will not be so hard upon their guide."

"Well, Ismael, what have you to say?" said the doctor, as he caught his old boatman looking at him very intently.

"I was thinking of the lives of all here, master," said Ismael. "We do not wish to die, we people of the country; but when the time comes we say 'Yes, it is our fate, and we close our eyes;' but you English chiefs, it is not right that you should die. We love the doctor, for he is good to us, our wives and children."

"Oh, all right," said the doctor, heartily. "What do you mean? You are afraid there is risk?"

"Great danger, master!" said Yusuf. "Murad will surely have us hunted out and slain for showing you his secret house in the jungle!"

"Another secret house, eh?" said Chumbley, rousing himself a little more. "Well, look here, old c.o.c.kolorum."

Yusuf seemed to consider this a t.i.tle conferring a dignity, for he smiled gravely and bowed.

"And you too, old Beeswax," continued Chumbley, addressing Ismael, who seemed disappointed at Yusuf getting all the honours, but who now smiled and bowed as well. "You think that Murad will come down on you both for betraying his secrets?"

"It is not betraying, master," said Yusuf. "We have found the place, and we show it to you. Murad did not trust us."

"All right," continued Chumbley. "Well, let me tell you this, that by this time Rajah Murad, or the Sultan as you call him, is safe under lock and key."

"Thy servant does not understand," said Yusuf.

"The chief means he is shut up in a little box with the key in his pocket," interpreted Ismael, gravely.

"That will do," said Chumbley, smothering a laugh. "He is safe in prison, and you will never see him here again."

"It is enough," said Yusuf. "The English are my masters, and I trust to them that their servant shall not have the kris."

"Now then, how long have you known of this place?"

"Two days, master: a friend told me that his brother was there as guard, but he knew no more."

"And you will take us there?" said Chumbley.

"Straight if the chief commands," said Yusuf; and the boat was urged forward.

It was on the second day that the little boat was turned into the stream that had become familiar to the doctor, and he exclaimed at once:

"This won't do. I know of that place. The chaplain is not there."

"No, not there," said Yusuf. "We shall see."

The doctor gave a grunt of satisfaction, half an hour later, when, instead of following the windings of this minor stream, the sampan's head was suddenly turned towards a dense ma.s.s of tall reeds, and the men paddled with all their might, driving the boat through the water-growth, and after a hundred yards of rough progression, they pa.s.sed into a large lagoon, dotted with patches of a kind of lotus, and with other water-plants sufficiently beautiful to drive the doctor into raptures.

"But no," he exclaimed; "I will not be tempted to botanise any more than I will be to look upon the spots where Sol--I mean--that is--"

"I say, doctor, we've been out over twelve hours," drawled Chumbley, "and you haven't yet said it once. Let it go."

"Solomon's s.h.i.+ps came in search of gold!" cried the doctor, as if relieved.

"Well, they didn't come here, doctor, or they would soon have been aground."

"No: of course not," said the doctor; "but what I mean is, that I will not yield to my hobby this time until poor Arthur Rosebury is found. I promised his sister, and I'll keep my word."

That lagoon, or rather chain of marshy lakelets, extended for quite fifty miles, sometimes spreading wide, more often dwindling into little openings and ponds united by narrow pa.s.sages with hardly a perceptible stream. Along this chain the boatmen dexterously sent the little vessel, sometimes forcing it aground, and often having hard work to get it through the dense vegetation that rose from the swampy soil.

Two days were spent in getting to the end of the lagoon; and landing upon an elevated place, they encamped for the night, the doctor chatting for long enough about the beautiful specimens that they had pa.s.sed, and which he had refrained from touching.

"There is a remarkable flora in this region, Chumbley," he said, enthusiastically.

"I daresay there is," said Chumbley, sleepily; "but your wife doesn't want us to be taking back a remarkable flora, but a matter-of-fact Arthur. Go to sleep, man, and let's rest."

The doctor told him he had no soul for science.

"Not a bit, doctor. Good-night;" and the great fellow was asleep in an instant.

"We are very near the place now," said the guide, as they partook of a hearty breakfast, Yusuf having speared some of the fish that abounded in the waters near.

"But we've got to the end of the lake," said the doctor.

"Yes, master; and now we must walk."

The way proved to be a long and toilsome journey, through the stifling heat of the jungle, which was here tolerably open, and so full of specimens attractive to the doctor that he fidgeted with disappointment at having to pa.s.s them by. He, however, resolutely refrained from attempting to collect, and only forfeited one cigar by the time that, after their weary tramp, gun in hand, the guide pointed to a low palm-thatched house, within a strong bamboo palisade, which protected a garden.

"Who'd have thought of finding a house here?" said Chumbley, who began to think of the Inche Maida's hiding-place, to which this was very similar. "But where is the pathway?"

"On the other side, master. I brought you all round this way so as not to alarm the guards. They might have taken their prisoner farther into the jungle where he could not be found."

A short consultation was held, and then Chumbley's proposal was carried in opposition to the more timid one of the guide's.

Chumbley's was the very soldier-like one of draw and advance.

This they did, the men with their spears, and Chumbley and the doctor double gun in hand; and after a little struggle with nothing more dangerous than canes, they forced their way round to the front of the place and entered, to find everything just as if it had been inhabited an hour before, but neither prisoner nor guards were there.

"The birds are flown," said Chumbley, after they had searched the half-dozen airy rooms that formed the place.

"Yes," said the doctor, "but he has been here. Look!"

He pointed to a couple of long shelves made by placing bamboos together, and upon them, carefully dried, were hundreds of botanical specimens, laid as only a botanist would have placed them.