For a moment or two, Than Khan stood rubbing his eyes, the sudden glare of light almost blinded him after the darkness of the hut. As soon as he became somewhat accustomed to the morning light, he perceived that a great change had taken place in nature. The wind which had been howling so dismally all night long had now fallen considerably, and the thick black clouds were breaking up, while patches of clear blue sky were becoming visible on all sides. The eastern horizon was perfectly cloudless, and the sun rising in full glory was bathing all he touched in the purest gold. It was a magnificent spectacle, certainly, that morning of calm after the night of storm; but neither Than Khan nor his companion seemed to pay the slightest heed to these beauties of nature. The two Celestials were not troubling their minds about the sun; they were eagerly scanning the surface of the sea, and that not for the purpose of admiring the stately roll of the long breakers; they were looking out for something quite different. [15]  
Yonder, at a considerable distance from the shore, they could just see a ship dancing on the waves. They could make her out with the naked eye to be a schooner-brig, which, under shortened sail, was lying close to the wind, and was evidently purposely keeping away from the land. She had some kind of signal flying; but what it was they could not make out. Liem King then produced a ship’s telescope, which was kept stowed away under the “attaps” in a corner of the roof, and which had long since lost its original colour, being thickly covered with a coating of dirt and dust.
 
The Chinaman handled the glass as one who was familiar with its use, and, after looking for awhile, he turned to his mate, and said: “The letters T.F.N.W. on a red ground. That must be the Kiem Ping Hin. She ought to have come in last night, and—”
 
“She is trying to anchor, I suppose,” said Than Khan.
 
“No, she is not,” replied Liem King; “she is only trying to keep out of the smuggling radius.”
 
“Well,” cried Than Khan, “that’s cool enough anyhow. Why! only last night we had the Matamata here.”
 
“Why,” said the other, “she is safe enough. Where she is now lying the steamer could not get at her, and, what’s more, she is flying the British ensign. Under those colours no one will dare to meddle with her. The Dutch are frightened to death of the English.”
 
After looking through his glass at the schooner for a few moments longer Liem King exclaimed: “They are lowering the boat!”
 
“Then one of us,” said Than Khan, “will have to run to the landing place at the Tjatjing.”
 
“Very well, you go,” said Liem King.
 
“No, you,” said the other.
 
“Why should we not both go together?” asked Liem King.
 
“Certainly not,” rejoined Than Khan. “Would you,” he asked as he pointed to Ardjan, “leave this fellow here alone and unwatched?”
 
“Perhaps you are right,” assented the other, “let us toss up for it.”
 
“All right,” replied Than Khan, “I don’t mind.”
 
One of them then produced some white pebbles about the size of beans among which there were a few black ones. With a certain amount of dexterity he flung them upon a wooden board which seemed made for the purpose. Liem King [16]counted the throw to see how many black ones were lying together.
 
It was Than Khan’s turn next.
 
“I have won,” he exclaimed. “You see I have seven black together. You had but five.”
 
“Very good,” said Liem King. “I shall go.”
 
“But mind,” said the other, “not a word about Dalima!”
 
“You trust me,” was the answer.
 
A strange scornful smile passed over Ardjan’s features.
 
Than Khan sat down cross-legged in the doorway of the hut, placing himself in such a manner that while he had a clear view of the bay before him, he could at the same time watch every movement Ardjan might attempt to make.
 
Not a single action on board the schooner escaped the Chinaman’s watchful eye.
 
He saw the smuggler lower her boat, he then saw five or six Chinese get into her. The little craft, rowed by a Javanese crew, then put off and got under weigh. It soon got into the seething breakers and as Than Khan watched the tremendous exertions of the rowers, he could not help admiring the cool steady way in which the helmsman kept her head firmly to the waves.
 
“That must be Lim Ho himself,” he muttered.
 
Ardjan shuddered at the mention of that name. “Lim Ho!” he exclaimed, his voice betraying his terror.
 
“Yes,” said Than Khan, “in a few minutes they will all be here.”
 
Just then the boat was getting into the Moeara. He was right, the light craft manned by eight stout rowers was flying through the water and had got clear of the dangerous surf.
 
Once under the lee of the bow-nets and fairly in the bay, the boat was in comparatively smooth water and darted into the mouth of the Tjatjing.
 
Liem King stood at the landing place waiting to receive his countrymen and he began at once to lead the way to the little watch-house.
 
The five Chinamen had no sooner stepped ashore than the Javanese crew began to make all possible haste to unload the boat.
 
A number of small tins and barrels lay piled up in the bottom and these they brought to land and most carefully stowed away, hiding them in the sand under the bushes which grew hard by. [17]
 
“Jolly stuff that black butter,” said one of the fellows, as he pointed to the barrels.
 
The small casks looked as if they had just come out of some Dutch farmhouse. They were all sealed with green wax and bore the well-known stamp of Van der Leeuw.
 
“I wish I could get hold of a couple of ta?l of that butter,” said another of the crew with a laugh.
 
“Well,” said another, “you can be off presently to the opium den of Babah Tjoa Tjong Ling and there you can get as much as you like of it. You will find it easy enough to get rid of your hardly earned wages.”
 
In a few minutes all the tins and barrels were safely stowed away and then the Javanese crew followed the steps of their Chinese masters to the “djaga monjet.”
 
When the five Chinamen had entered the little hut, the examination of Ardjan, who was still lying on the floor in the same painful position, was commenced at once.
 
On the way to the hut Liem King had told his master as much as he deemed prudent about Ardjan’s capture; but not a word did he breathe about Dalima.
 
Lim Ho listened with attention to his report. This Lim Ho was a tall, powerfully-built Chinaman. He was the chief of that band of smugglers, about five-and-twenty years of age. He had a wan yellow complexion, and a false, evil look in his slanting eyes.
 
When he heard it was Ardjan, the mate, who had been caught, he could not repress a smile of satisfaction.
 
As soon as Liem King had made his report, he asked in a tone of assumed indifference:
 
“Was the fellow alone when you came upon him?”
 
“Oh yes, quite alone,” readily replied Liem King.
 
Lim Ho showed that he was greatly disappointed at the news.
 
“He came ashore in a ‘djoekoeng,’ I think you told me?” he asked.
 
“He did, sir,” replied Liem King.
 
“Could the ‘djoekoeng’ have turned over at sea?” continued Lim Ho.
 
“Very likely,” replied the wily Chinaman.
 
“When Than Khan and myself found the ‘djoekoeng,’?” he continued, “Ardjan was lying exhausted and wet through on the beach—he looked as if he had been washing about in the water, and the bamboos of the rigging were smashed to pieces.” [18]
 
“All right,” said Lim Ho superciliously, “we shall hear all about that presently.”
 
As he entered the hut, he did not deign so much as to cast a look at Ardjan; but abruptly asked him:
 
“What made you run away?”
 
“I was homesick,” was the reply, “I was heartily sick of the ship and wanted to get back to the ‘dessa.’?”
 
“Indeed!” sneered Lim Ho. “And that was the reason, I suppose, why you took Dalima with you?”
 
Ardjan kept silence; Liem King and Than Khan were growing as pale as death.
 
“Where was the girl drowned?” suddenly asked Lim Ho.
 
“Drowned,” shouted Ardjan, “you say drowned. Have they drowned her, then?”
 
“Have they drowned her?” said Lim Ho in a mocking tone of voice. “Was not the ‘djoekoeng’ upset when the pair of you tried to run away in her? Where did that take place? perhaps Dalima may somehow have been able to get out.”
 
“Able to get out,” repeated Ardjan. “But the ‘djoekoeng’ did not turn over at all,” he exclaimed. “We both of us got ashore. She was terribly frightened at the storm to be sure, but quite unhurt, and I was completely exhausted with rowing.”
 
“But,” roared Lim Ho, “what has become of her, then?”
 
“That, I cannot tell you,” replied Ardjan, “you must ask Liem King and Than Khan.”
 
These two worthies stood trembling with apprehension.
 
“Did you fellows hear that?” shouted Lim Ho in a towering passion. “Did you hear that? I am waiting for you—what is your answer?”
 
“I do not know what has become of the girl,” stammered Than Khan.
 
“She has, very likely, been devoured by a crocodile, for all I know,” added Liem King.
 
“Did she get to land? Yes or no?” roared Lim Ho, while in his impatience he stamped about the little hut, shaking it to its foundations.
 
“She did,” replied Ardjan. “Those two scoundrels first tied me up, and then they bound Dalima’s arms and legs. They brought me in here, and after that they went out in quest of Dalima. But all I know is they came back without her.”
 
Lim Ho’s piercing eyes were watching the two Chinamen as Ardjan was speaking. [19]
 
“I have no doubt,” Liem King again ventured to say, “that some crocodile has carried her off.”
 
“Or maybe,” said Than Khan, “a tiger has got hold of her.”
 
Lim Ho applied a small whistle to his lips. He blew a shrill piercing note, and at the summons one of the Javanese crew at once presented himself at the door of the hut.
 
“Call your mates,” ordered Lim Ho. In an instant the whole boat’s crew was present.
 
“Tie me up those scoundrels,” cried Lim Ho, “make them fast,” he said, as he pointed to Liem King and Than Khan. “Tie them up, and securely too, do you hear me!”
 
The men readily obeyed, it was the work of an instant. Nothing in this world gave these fellows greater delight than to be allowed to lay their hands upon a Chinaman. They set to work as roughly, as brutally as they could. The knots were tied and they hauled upon the ropes with a will. The wretched victims groaned with the pain.
 
Oh! if ever it should come to an outbreak, then woe to the Celestials in Java, they would find but little mercy. Who knows—were such a catastrophe to take place they might not be the only race to suffer. There are others who might get into trouble too!
 
When both the Chinese spies were firmly secured, Lim Ho called to his men.
 
“Now, my lads, now for a hunt! A girl—little Dalima—has escaped from us and we must get her back. Five hundred ‘ringgiets’ six dollars to the man who finds her and brings her in!”
 
With a ringing cheer the boat’s crew dashed from the hut.
 
When they had left, Lim Ho ordered one of his followers to hand him his pipe. He filled the small bowl with the slender bamboo stem with extremely fine-cut tobacco, then he lit the pipe and began to blow the smoke from his nostrils. Thereupon he took a seat on the only chair the hut contained. It was a rough and clumsy piece of furniture, cut out of the wood with a clasp-knife. The other Chinamen sat down cross-legged on the floor, while their captain once again turned to Ardjan.
 
“Come now,” said he, “just you tell us how you managed to get Dalima out of the Kiem Ping Hin. You knew well enough, did you not, that I wanted the girl? But, look you, no lies! No lies, mind you! Your life is in my hands; you are aware of that, I hope.” [20]
 
Ardjan could but utter a deep sigh. He begged that his hands might be slackened if but a little. “To be trussed up like this,” said he, “is unbearable torture.”
 
“No, no,” laughed Lim Ho. “First let us hear what you have to say, then we shall see what we can do for you.”
 
Nevertheless he gave the order to remove the bamboo cane which had so long tortured the poor Javanese, and as soon as that was removed the Chinaman said:
 
“Now, speak up, I am listening to you!”
 
“You are aware,” began Ardjan, “that I am mate on board the Kiem Ping Hin. Yesterday afternoon we were lying at anchor behind Poeloe Kalajan which is not far from Santjoemeh, when a ‘djoekoeng’ rowed up to us in which a couple of your countrymen were seated. At first I thought that they came alongside to take off some of the smuggled opium with which the schooner is partly loaded. I, therefore, threw them a rope and helped them up the ship’s side. But, instead of coming to fetch anything off, they brought something aboard with them. It was a heavy sack which they carefully hoisted on deck, and which had something of the appearance of a human form. However, that was no business of mine, it was not the first time that I had seen that kind of thing going on. I even lent a hand at carrying the load into the captain’s cabin, and I laughed and joked with the Chinamen at the fun Awal Boep Said was going to have.
 
“When, shortly after, the captain came on board, I told him of the bit of good luck that had befallen him, and I fancied he would be mightily pleased. Not a bit of it, instead of at once rushing down into his cabin, he quietly remained on deck, simply ordering me to keep a sharp look out as he was expecting some friends. And, true enough, a few hours later you, Lim Ho, came on board with two of your followers. You reached the schooner just in time. Night was rapidly falling, and a north-westerly storm was blowing up. No sooner were you aboard than it began to blow furiously. The moment I saw you, an unpleasant feeling came over me, and quite involuntarily my thoughts at once flew to the sack which I had helped to get aboard, and which then was lying on the bed in the cabin. I longed to get away down below to have a look; but the captain, who was watching the storm that was brewing, ordered the men to the braces and had a second anchor brought out. I had, of course, to take my share of duty and could not leave the deck. [21]
 
“When, an hour or so after, I got to the cabin, I found you there stretched out on a couch. You were hard at it smoking opium, your pipe was in your hand, and with evident satisfaction you were swallowing down the smoke.—
 
“I knew well enough what all this meant. A man whose senses are dulled and deadened by habitual excess, must find something to rouse him. I knew that you had some little pigeon in your clutches, and that you were seeking to recruit by opium your exhausted powers. Your object was to get the greatest possible amount of enjoyment out of your victim—You know the properties of opium, and how to make use of it.
 
“Now all this did not concern me, I merely chuckled—I thought, that’s a common thing enough! I remember a hadji telling me that opium is a gift of Ngahebi Mohammed, and the ever-blessed in Paradise use it to renew their strength and thus are for ever beloved by the houris.
 
“But yet, I could not get rid of that strange feeling that told me all was not well. I could not get rid of my anxious curiosity. Dalima has long ago been promised to me by her parents. She is to be my wife as soon as I can get together a few more ‘ringgiets’ which will enable me to purchase a yoke of oxen. The day on which I can get them together, is to be my wedding-day.
 
“But Lim Ho,” and at these words the voice of the Javanese began to hiss and assume an almost threatening tone, “but Lim Ho, I know also that you covet the maiden,—I know what treasures you have offered her—I know what sums you have offered her parents as the price of her virtue, and of her innocence.
 
“I made up my mind—I must see who was there in the cabin.—Oh! I had not, at that time, the least suspicion that it was Dalima! She had rejected all your advances with the utmost contempt. Her father had even threatened to kreese you. How could the ‘baboe’ of the Ioean Resident have come into your power?—You see it was impossible!”
 
“Yes, yes, as you say it was quite impossible,” said Lim Ho with a grin, excited by the story of Ardjan. “I say, Ong Kwat, just tell us how the girl came into your hands!”
 
“No need of that,” resumed Ardjan, “I know all about it. Dalima told me the whole story in the ‘djoekoeng.’ Yesterday she was out for a walk with her master’s youngest child in the lane behind the Residence. The boy in his play, flung [22]his ball into a ditch by the side of the road. A Chinaman happened to be passing at the time and Dalima requested him to fetch the toy out of the water. He did so at her request; but instead of returning the ball to the child he pitched it as far as he could into the garden. The boy ran off eagerly to fetch it, and Dalima was looking after the child, when suddenly the Chinaman flung himself upon her, gagged her, and before she could utter a single cry threw a sack over her head. Thus muffled he dragged her to the end of the lane, and put her into a ‘djoekoeng’ which was lying in the ditch. The boat at once put off, and in an hour’s time was alongside the Kiem Ping Hin.”
 
“Just so!” exclaimed Lim Ho. “Now, Ong Kwat, is not that just about how you managed it?”
 
The man thus addressed grinned, nodded his head and added, “Yes, master, for four whole days I had been on the prowl for that catch.”
 
“Now, Ardjan,” resumed Lim Ho, “you may go on again; but mind you, no lies.”
 
The Javanese continued: “As I entered the cabin I gave a hasty look round. You, Lim Ho, were partially unconscious, still smoking opium. You had not got to that stage when the drug excites the passions to madness. Your attendant was intent upon kneading the ‘mandat’ balls. There was no one in the cabin but you two, so I ventured to creep in, and, by the light of the lamp that was burning there, I saw—Dalima.
 
“With one bound I was at her side, in an instant I had severed the ropes which tied her, and in another moment I had dragged her out of the cabin. Thereupon I flew forward, got some clothes which I happened to have by me, and in a few seconds was back again with them. Dalima slipped them on, and thus partially disguised I hid her under a heap of sails which happened to be lying in the stern.
 
“Meanwhile the storm was raging in all its fury, and I have no doubt that it was chiefly owing to the noise of the wind that we had been able to get clear of the cabin unperceived. Captain Awal Boep Said, like a good Mussulman, was telling his beads, and from time to time uttered an ‘Allah achbar’ (God is great), or a ‘Bismillah’ (God be praised). The other men were all taking shelter in the forecastle, and your servants were lying sea-sick in their bunks.
 
“Of these favourable circumstances I made the best use I could. The ‘djoekoeng,’ in which Dalima had come alongside, [23]was still lying there dancing on the waves. I took hold of the painter and drew the boat up to the side. The girl slid down into her along a rope which was hanging over the ship’s side. I followed her, seized upon a paddle and then I cast her adrift, and the storm soon drove us far from the Kiem Ping Hin.
 
“I was in hopes that I might succeed in reaching that part of the beach which lies nearest to the Resident’s house; but when the ‘djoekoeng’ got under the Poeloe Kalajan the wind got hold of her and we had to drift at the mercy of the waves.
 
“Then I managed to set the wings which were lying in the bottom of the boat. Without them we must certainly have capsized and been drowned. I kept on rowing with all my might; for I knew that once we were driven past the cape there would be an end of us. At length—at length—I managed to struggle through the breakers. One more effort and we were safe at the Moeara Tjatjing! The moment danger was over I fell down utterly exhausted, and, before I had time to recover Than Khan and Liem King had discovered us. They pinioned us both, Dalima and me. Me they carried off to this hut; what has become of the girl I don’t know. I have not seen or heard of her since. Now then, Lim Ho,” said he in conclusion, “that is the whole truth.”
 
For a short time silence was preserved, Lim Ho seemed to reflect on what he had heard, and no one in the hut ventured to disturb his reflections.
 
At length he spoke, turning to Than Khan and Liem King, and said:
 
“Well, what have you to say to all that?” Neither of them answered a word.
 
“Do you intend to answer, yes or no?” roared Lim Ho in a furious passion, as he dealt Than Khan, who lay bound on the floor, a heavy kick in the side.
 
“The Javanese lies,” cried the Chinaman, writhing with pain. “We have seen nothing of the girl!”
 
“He probably got her off into the woods,” added Liem King, “before we came up.”
 
“I would gladly have given my life for Dalima,” cried Ardjan, “but I was lying on the beach utterly prostrate; I could not defend her, sir, I could not defend myself. I am telling you the truth. These two scoundrels must know what they have done with her!”
 
Lim Ho muttered a few words to himself and appeared to be thinking what he would do next, when voices were heard [24]outside the hut, the voices of the boat’s crew who had been hunting for Dalima, and were now returning with the tidings that their search had been fruitless, and that they had nowhere been able to find the girl.
 
Ardjan’s face gleamed with satisfaction as he heard it, and he at once grew calmer.
 
“Unless,” said one of the Javanese boatmen, holding up a coil of rope, “you call this a trace of her. I found this close by the spot where we landed.”
 
Lim Ho fixed his eye upon the two wretched spies. They held their peace, that silent proof effectually closed their mouths.
 
“These are,” said Ardjan, in a much quieter tone of voice than that in which he had spoken before, “these are the cords with which they bound Dalima’s wrists and ankles. I recognise them perfectly.”
 
Lim Ho hereupon uttered but two words; but they were words which caused Ardjan and Liem King and Than Khan to shudder with terror. In most abject terms they prayed for mercy. But Lim Ho remained deaf to all their entreaties, he scarcely deigned to cast a look at them; but now and then in his cold rage he would deal a savage kick at the body of one or the other of the prostrate Chinamen.
 
In a few abrupt words he gave his orders to the Javanese crew. Whatever his commands might be, his men were but too ready to carry them out. A couple of them at once left the hut while the others set Ardjan and the two Chinamen upon their legs and prepared to take them out of the cabin.
 
“Oh, sir, have pity, have mercy upon us!” Than Khan exclaimed in truly piteous accents.
 
“Where is Dalima?” was the furious rejoinder.
 
“We don’t know where she is!” cried both the Chinamen.
 
“And you!” shouted Lim Ho turning to Ardjan; “do you know what has become of her?”
 
“I know nothing about it,” was the reply. “I think that most probably she may have got back to the Residence.”
 
“Have mercy, have mercy!” shrieked Liem King.
 
“What? mercy on such brutes as you?” scornfully said Lim Ho.
 
“But,” they asked; “what harm have we done?”
 
“I will tell you what you have done,” sneered Lim Ho. “You have had Dalima in your power and you have been pleased to let her go. That’s what you have done and you [25]shall suffer for it. And you!” he hissed out in fury, as he turned to Ardjan, “you have dared to carry the girl away. Oh, you shall pay for it!”
 
“But she is my bride,” pleaded the wretched man.
 
“Your bride, indeed,” said Lim Ho with concentrated rage. “Your bride? Do you think a pretty girl like Dalima is destined to be the bride of a Javanese dog like you? But it was last night that you carried her off from the Kiem Ping Hin. Might you perhaps in that ‘djoekoeng’—”
 
A disgusting leer of disappointed passion passed over the features of Lim Ho as he uttered the half finished question.
 
“No, no, by Allah!” fiercely exclaimed the Javanese. “Dalima is as pure as the white flower of which she bears the name. But,” added he in a calmer mood, “you know better than that. You know that in such weather as we had last night I had very little time for trifling and love-making.”
 
“That’s lucky for you,” cried Lim Ho; “had you so much as touched her too freely I would this very moment drive my kreese into you. As it is, I will simply punish you for having run away. I will consent to forget that Dalima is anything to you. But,” he added with an odious smile, “you seem to forget that the matter is somewhat serious for you. You ran away, remember, to give the coastguard notice of the arrival and of the movements of the Kiem Ping Hin—”
 
“That is not true,” hastily interrupted Ardjan.
 
“That, you see, amounts to treachery—treachery to the Company,” continued Lim Ho without taking the slightest notice of Ardjan’s indignant denial. “It’s a serious matter as you know.”
 
“I tell you it is all a lie,” cried the wretched Javanese, driven to despair by the other’s manner. “It is all a lie. I ran away to save Dalima from your filthy clutches; you may drive your dagger into me for that, but I am no traitor.”
 
“I tell you again,” replied Lim Ho with perfect calmness, “that your intention was to betray the secrets of the Company. You know the laws of the Company, do you not? I will therefore give you the same punishment as to those two scoundrels. I will then have you put on board the Kiem Ping Hin; not as her mate; oh, no, but simply as a slave; and you will be put ashore at Poeloe Bali and there you will have to remain on pain of death. You will remain there, I say, as long as ever the Company shall see fit.” [26]
 
“Oh no!” wildly cried Ardjan, “not that, anything but that; rather kill me at once. I have not played the spy; I am no traitor. I will not, I cannot live away from Dalima!”
 
The face of Lim Ho plainly showed the bitter hatred he felt towards his rival—a hatred the more intense because he knew that Ardjan possessed the fair young girl’s heart.
 
He did not, however, vouchsafe any further reply; but gave a sign to the boatmen.
 
With blows and kicks they drove the prisoners before them down the rough steps. They revelled in the brutality which they were allowed to show to these unhappy wretches.
 
With their hands tightly bound behind their backs the three were half driven, half pushed down, and being quite unable to steady themselves they tumbled down into the filthy mud beneath and grovelled there amidst the shouts of laughter of their tormentors until they were again roughly put on their feet.
 
Lim Ho and his pig-tailed companions heartily joined in the merriment and thus encouraged the rough sailors in their unmerciful handling of the miserable captives.