One Maid's Mischief

Volume Two – Chapter Twenty Two.

“Our Position Is Absurd.”

As the door flew open, Hilton found himself confronted by a dozen spearmen; and he would have still advanced had not Chumbley held him back.

“You forgot that you were a prisoner,” said the Princess, quietly, but with a triumphant look in her eyes. “There are fifty more brave men beyond those, and they would kill you at a word from me.”

“And that word you would not speak,” said Hilton, smiling in her face.

“Why not?” she cried defiantly.

“For several reasons,” he said, quietly. “First, because I am an officer of the Queen of England, madam.”

“I am queen here,” she retorted. “What is your queen to me?”

“Another reason is – that you would not have me killed,” he said, lightly; and he evaded Chumbley’s touch and stepped through the door; but six razor-keen spear-points were presented so suddenly at his breast, that, brave as he was, Hilton involuntarily started back, and to his great annoyance the Princess smiled mockingly in turn.

Captain Hilton was a soldier, and ready to risk his life when need should be; but he felt that there were limits even to the valour a man should show, and this was evidently a time to make a movement towards the rear.

He turned to Chumbley, to find that he had not moved, but was leaning, with his arms folded across his broad chest, against the wooden framework of the cane-woven wall, and he looked his companion steadily in the face.

“Well!” exclaimed Hilton, angrily, as he sought some object upon which to vent the spleen rising within his breast; and his friend being the nearest object, he received the verbal blows. “Why don’t you come and face these scoundrels with me? Are you afraid?”

“Eh? Afraid?” said Chumbley, rousing himself from his dreamy state. “No, I don’t think I was, old fellow. I was wondering whether we were British officers in a Malay jungle facing realities, or the same two fellows fresh from dining at the club, turned into a couple of stalls at a theatre and watching the progress of some drama of a certain type.”

“Then wake up to the fact that it is reality!” cried Hilton, sharply, “and help me to act, unless you want to stay here for life.”

“All right, dear boy,” said Chumbley, resuming his drawling style. “Only, what are we to do? I’m ready for anything almost, but I’m not going to run my noble chest against those fellows’ spears. Where’s the good?”

“Good?” cried Hilton, angrily; “are we to stop here and be a pair of slaves?”

“No; only it’s as well to wait. There are times to fight, and there are times when it’s as well to draw off your forces, even if the London papers do revile and talk of want of pluck. You see a fellow can’t fight in a case of this sort. It’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous indeed!” cried Hilton; as, with the petulance of a boy, he seized the door, and slammed it in the face of the Malays.

“Exactly,” drawled Chumbley, glancing at the Princess, who was watching them from the other end of the room. “You see, Warner or Terriss on the Adelphi stage would have knocked all those fellows over like skittles, or skewered them all upon one spear like a row of larks; but that’s only done upon the boards; a fellow can’t play like that in common life.”

“Is there much more of this, Chumbley?” said Hilton, with mock deference.

“Not a great deal, old man,” said the big fellow, coolly ignoring his friend’s sarcastic manner. “I was only going to say – and I hope her majesty Queen Cleopatra can’t hear me – that the only course open to us seems to be to wait our chance and bolt; and I’ll be blest if I run, or try to run, through this sweltering jungle to save myself or anybody else. If you’ll have me carried down to the river and pitched in, I don’t mind trying to swim.”

“Ha – ha – ha – ha – ha! Ha – ha – ha – ha – ha – ha – ha!”

A merry, almost girlish laugh rang out; and as the two officers turned sharply, it was to see that the Inche Maida’s countenance had lost its look of annoyance, and was full of mirth, for she had heard every word that Chumbley had spoken.

“Tchah!” ejaculated Hilton; “our position is growing more and more absurd?”

“You are a very droll man,” said the Princess, turning to Chumbley. “You make me laugh by your way of speaking; but you are very wise and clever all the same. You know that you could not get away; so you are ready to wait patiently to see what comes. You are quite right, Mr Chumbley, and I like you more and more, and will treat you well.”

“That’s very kind of you, Princess,” said Chumbley, slowly; “and I must say that I heard what you said before about me; but speaking like a persecuted maiden in the ancient castle of some baron bold, will you excuse me if I say your previous remarks are insufficient, and I should be glad to know why the dickens you brought me here when you wanted him?”

“You make such long speeches,” cried the Inche Maida, “and you speak so slowly, that you puzzle me. I never know whether you are serious or laughing at me.”

“Oh, I am not laughing,” said Chumbley, slowly.

“Then do not ask,” said the Princess, shortly. “You are my prisoners, and must submit.”

“For the present, madam,” said Hilton, with a return of his anger; “but if you will take my advice, you will end this sorry farce at once. You will regret it if you stop too long, and find your palm-tree palace – ”

“It is no palace,” said the Princess, quietly, “only a simple house.”

“Surrounded by a company of our troops, and burned to the ground.”

The Princess laughed.

“I understand you,” she said, nodding her head; “but that will not be. You English are strong and have great weapons that would destroy us at a touch. We have but our spears and krisses, so we trust to our wisdom to help us out, do you see.”

“I think I know what you mean,” said Chumbley, quietly.

“Yes,” continued the Princess, “you are right; your soldiers would soon burn down my place and kill my people to get you back; but they would have first to find us out. Do you know where you are?”

Hilton glanced at the open window, to see through the lattice-work of bamboo the deep green of the impenetrable jungle.

“Yes,” she continued, smiling at the look which came upon the young officer’s face, “we bring cunning to fight upon our side. You see that you are in the jungle; and I tell you there is but one narrow path to this place, and my people guard it night and day.”

“When they are not asleep,” muttered Chumbley.

“I made this place,” she said, “to flee to when my enemies should come. Here I am safe, and here, too, you are safe, for none but my most trusted people know the way.”

“Pleasant news this, old fellow,” said Chumbley.

“Pleasant!” cried Hilton; “but she shall smart for it. She does not think of what will be the result.”

The Inche Maida frowned as she saw his angry looks and heard his words.

“Well, old fellow,” said Chumbley; “it seems to me that we are wasting time.”

“What! are you prepared to make a dash for it?” cried Hilton.

“Not I. I mean wasting time in talking like this. I’m sorry for you, old fellow – very sorry for you; but it’s very hot and tiring this standing about. Hadn’t we better make the best of it?”

“Best of it!” cried Hilton, who now obstinately refused to glance at the author of their trouble, and kept pacing up and down like a caged beast. “Are you mad?”

“Very,” whispered Chumbley; “but one can’t pitch into a woman. She fights with cunning, so must we, and wait for our chance to escape. There, it is of no use to chafe. Let’s be thankful that matters are no worse.”

“Worse!” cried Hilton, passionately, “they could not be worse;” and he spoke loudly enough for the Princess to hear his words.

“There – there, old fellow, calm down,” drawled Chumbley. “Make the best of it till her ladyship here has grown tired of her two caged birds, and has let us out. We are prisoners, I suppose, Princess?” he said, aloud.

“Prisoners or visitors, which you please, Mr Chumbley,” she said, smiling. “Let it be visitors, for though Captain Hilton has said such cruel things – see, I am not angered, but quite calm. You are my visitors, then; but you cannot get away until I give the word.”

“Or our people fetch us,” said Chumbley, throwing himself upon one of the divans with a sigh of relief, for the Inche Maida had pointed to the seat.

“They will not come to fetch you,” said the Princess, smiling.

“Why not?” said Hilton, sharply. “I tell you they will search till we are found, and then you destroy yourself by having us here.”

“Yes,” said the Princess, with her eyes half-closed; “they will search. They have searched, and have given it up. They found a small boat overset upon a bank of sand; part of your clothes were in it, and they think you were both drowned.”

“Confusion!” cried Hilton, fiercely.

“You have a woman to fight with,” said the Princess, smiling, “and I have taken my steps so well that no one will seek you here. I told my people to bring you both, and they obeyed. They would have sooner died than failed.”

“Tell me more,” said Chumbley, quickly. “Have you seen Mr Harley?”

“I will tell you nothing,” said the Princess, “till you are both my friends. There, I must leave you now. Promise me you will be patient, and not so foolish as to try to escape and fight. It would be horrible to me if you or any of my people should be hurt in some mad attempt. Promise me you will be patient and not try.”

“Not I,” said Chumbley, laughing. “I shall try to escape, and so will he.”

“Then you are wicked and foolish!” cried the Inche Maida, angrily.

“Both, I am afraid,” said Chumbley. “I always was; but may I make a request as a prisoner?”

“As a visitor, yes,” said the Princess, smiling. “May I ask, then, if you propose to gild the bars of our cage?”

“I do not understand,” she replied, gazing at him earnestly.

“I mean that it is very hot. May I have a cold drink of some kind; and do you allow smoking in the drawing-room?”

The Princess smiled, and in what Chumbley afterwards called the Arabian Nights style, clapped her hands, when a couple of Malay slave-girls ran in, received their orders, and hurried out again, while their mistress walked to the window, as she had done more than once before, apparently with the idea of giving her prisoners an opportunity to converse and debate their position.

“Well, Hilton, old man, what do you think of this?” said Chumbley, smiling. “We Europeans have gone ahead, and got steam and electricity, and all the luxuries of civilisation, as the fine writers call it, while the East has stopped just where it was, and we might be Ali Baba’s Brothers, or the One-eyed Calender, or some other of those Arabian Night cock-o’-waxes here amongst all these slaves and spearmen. I say, I think I shall write a book about it – ‘The adventures of two officers taken prisoners by a wicked queen.’”

“Chumbley,” retorted Hilton, “you used to have one good quality.”

“Had I? What was that, old man?”

“You were a fellow who didn’t talk much,” said Hilton; “but now your tongue goes like a woman’s, and you are a positive nuisance.”

“Thankye, old fellow. But you ought not to grumble, seeing how impressionable you have of late proved to the prattling of a woman’s tongue.”

“The Inche Maida’s?” said Hilton, in a low voice. “Well no: not exactly hers, dear boy. But I say, Hilton, she is a woman and a lady; don’t say hard things to her.”

“Hard things?” cried Hilton, angrily. “Come, I like that! Hang it, man, after this outrage she ought to be shut up in a lunatic asylum!”

“Humph!” said Chumbley, slowly. “I don’t know. They say love is a sort of lunacy, and people do strange things who get the disease badly. You’re been an awful idiot lately!”

“Chumbley, do you want me to strike you?” cried Hilton, fiercely.

“No, dear boy,” drawled his friend; “but you can give me a punch if it will do you good. I shan’t hit you again.”

“Bah;” ejaculated Hilton. “There’s no quarrelling with you!”

“Not a bit of it dear boy; but as I was saying, seeing what stupid things you did about – ”

“Chumbley!”

“All right: I wasn’t going to mention her name. I say, seeing what stupid things you did, it was not surprising that a lady in love with your noble features and Apollo-like form – ”

“I declare I shall forget myself directly!” cried Hilton, between his teeth.

“No: don’t, old fellow; but you might let me finish my speech. It isn’t often I’m flush of words, and when I am you check me. I say once more it was not so very surprising that her ladyship here should set a trap for you, catch you, and want to persuade you to accept her very eligible offers. There, sit down, man, and make the best of it! Stop that irritating walk of yours! You are like a human pendulum!”

“Idiot!” muttered Hilton, between his teeth, glancing at the Princess’s back, though, as she leaned in a graceful attitude against the window, with her arm through the bamboo bars.

“Calling names!” said Chumbley, coolly. “Imitation’s the sincerest form of flattery. Will you stop that wolf-in-a-cage walk?”

“No!”

“Then you’re a Zoological Gardens beast! I say, why don’t you utter a short howl every time you turn?”

“If you cannot talk sensibly, Chumbley, pray be silent!” said Hilton, in a low, angry whisper. “You are like a big boy more than a man!”

“Go on, old fellow!” said Chumbley, coolly. “If ever I marry, which isn’t likely, I daresay I shall have a woman with a tongue like an arrow. What a chance she will have to shoot sharp words at my thick hide!”

“Will you talk sense for a few moments before this woman goes?”

“Lady.”

“Well, lady, then! I want to try and devise some plan for getting away.”

“What’s the hurry?” said Chumbley. “We’re caught and caged, and I have always noticed that the birds that are trapped and caged are of two kinds.”

“Is there much of this moral sermon to come?”

“No,” said Chumbley, good-humouredly, “not much. It seems tiresome to you because you are standing. Sit down, man, and listen. I feel quite like an Eastern speaker of parables. It is the atmosphere, I suppose. I was saying that the birds that are caught are of two kinds – those that take it coolly and those that don’t. Those that don’t keep on beating their breasts against the bars, and knocking their feathers off in the most insane way, till they die, looking exceedingly bare and uncomfortable; while those that take it coolly sit upon the perches, set up their feathers till they look nice and plump, and keep on saying ‘chiswick’ except when they stop to eat their seed.”

“And, most profound moralist, the restless, brave-hearted birds that breast the bars are the truest,” cried Hilton. “I would not be so spiritless and craven for worlds.”

“Stuff!” said Chumbley. “Nobody’s going to wring your neck and put you in a pie; then it would be uncomfortable. The Princess only wants you to sing. I say, I think I shall ask her if she means to give us the seed that is becoming necessary in the shape of dinner.”

The Inche Maida turned round.

“I could not help being a listener, Mr Chumbley,” she said, quietly; “and surely you did not suppose that you could both talk like that unheard. Now let me speak before I go.”

Chumbley bowed, and Hilton folded his arms, leaning against the wall, while his friend slowly rose, and once more offered the Princess a seat.

“No!” she cried, angrily. “I can only sit with my friends, and you persist in treating me as an enemy. As Captain Hilton’s friend, I ask pardon for the roughness of my people. Can I do more?”

“Well, yes,” said Chumbley; “after we have granted your pardon, you can set us free!”

“That I shall not do!” she cried, with her eyes flashing.

“Not now, Princess,” said Chumbley, speaking calmly, seriously and well; “but after a little reflection. You do not realise the power of England, madam. You do not know what our Government will always do to maintain the honour and prestige of our nation.”

“No,” she said, scornfully, “I do not.”

“Let me tell you then,” said Chumbley, with a return of his dry, sarcastic manner; “I am of no consequence whatever as compared to our handsome young captain there.”

“I think you a ten times better man, and one hundred times as much a gentleman,” cried the Princess, hotly; and her eyes flashed indignation at them both.

“Oh, no,” said Chumbley; “you are angry and indignant, and you forget that we are, too. How can we be pleased that you have so roughly brought us here?”

“But you ought to be, and very proud,” she cried sharply.

“Well, we will not argue that,” said Chumbley; “but I wish to tell you that you must think this over carefully and well. Insignificant as we two men may be, it touches England’s honour that a Malay ruler should seize us and make us prisoners.”

“I care not,” she retorted. “I have thought it over well.”

“I suppose so, madam,” said Chumbley; “but let me tell you that England will not let us stay here your prisoners; sooner than let you triumph she would send an army to search for and take us back.”

“And I tell you,” cried the Princess, fiercely, “that I have thought well over all this, and have made such plans, that even if your people did not think you dead, they would not find you. I am queen with my people, and I will not be beaten when I undertake a task. If they should learn that you were here, and come to shoot and burn, we would flee into the jungle.”

“Where they would hunt you out, Princess, cost what it might,” said Chumbley.

“Let them,” said the Inche Maida, with her eyes flashing, and looking very queenly as she spoke. “They are big and strong, and they have many men. They would surround us then, and think to take us and drag you away; but they do not know our people yet – they do not know what a Malay Princess would do. Mr Chumbley,” she said, speaking to him, but gazing at Hilton as she spoke, “we Malays are gentle and calm, but we have angry passions. If you rouse the hot blood within us, it becomes fierce and hotter still. Don’t think that I shall not have my way; for I tell you that at the last, sooner than be conquered by those your people sent, I would kill you both, and then – then,” she cried excitedly, “I should kill myself!”