With the Dyaks of Borneo: A Tale of the Head Hunters

by F. S. Brereton

There was no confusion on the pinnace, thanks to the fact that all had been previously arranged, and to the discipline which existed. In a moment the bows were pointing for the bank, and hardly had the keel grated, and the twelve-pounder again spoken out, than more than half of those aboard sprang ashore. Seizing cutlasses, they waited only to allow their officers to take post in advance, when they went pell-mell for the enemy.

"Keep together, lads, and be sure that you do not separate from your comrades," shouted the lieutenant, for the jungle was extremely dense, and to have rushed into its midst without any caution would certainly have led to death. But the men who composed the expedition were hardened to warfare and were perfectly steady. By no means lacking the necessary dash, they, for all that, held themselves together, and, without losing their heads in the excitement of the moment, obeyed their officers to the full. Bearing to the left, where a number of the enemy were located, the gallant little band threw itself upon them, cutlasses and revolvers meeting kriss and knife, while overhead flew spears thrown by the Dyaks.

"Charge!" shrieked Lieutenant Horton as they came to close quarters. "Beat them back and then prepare to retreat."

Without glancing back at his men, for he knew well enough that he would not be allowed to attack alone, he rushed at the nearest pirate, and, fending a swishing blow aimed at him with a kriss, cut the man down with his sword. The Rajah was beside him, and he too was confronted by a formidable pirate. But there was no standing against him, for this Rajah was the Englishman whose name was known and feared far and wide, and who had shown that he was as good in the fight as he was in ordering the affairs of the people of Sarawak. An arm shot from his shoulder, and the fist lit full upon the face of the nearest pirate, while a shot from his revolver sent a second sprawling to the ground. A third at once took to his heels, an example which his comrades instantly followed. As for Tyler, a busy three minutes was before him. Running beside the Rajah and the lieutenant, he had at once become engaged with the enemy, and had shot down a man with his weapon. Then in the background he once again caught sight of the familiar, bulky figure of the Dutchman, and, instantly forgetting the caution which had been given, he rushed forward, hoping to capture him.

"The murderer!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "After him!"

Forgetful of the danger he would incur, and of the fact that he was disobeying an order, he plunged forward and snatched at the collar of Hanns Schlott, while he held a revolver to his ear. A second later he was hurled aside by a Dyak who happened to be close beside his rascally leader, and hardly had he reached the earth than his opponent was standing over him, about to bury a murderous-looking kriss in his body.

"Fire!" shouted a voice some few yards away, and instantly, as if the order had been meant for him, Tyler pressed a trigger and brought his opponent stumbling upon his face.

"And now for Hanns Schlott," he called out, springing to his feet and looking about him. "Where is he? Surely he has not escaped."

"He has, sure enough," was the reply, in the well-known voice of John Marshall. "This kind of thing is too much for a chap like him. But we'd better be going, sir, for our chaps are retiring, and we ought never to have come so far."

That the advice was good was certain, and turning at once the two ran back to the main party, a shower of spears and a few bullets following them. Then the order was given to make for the pinnace, and very shortly all were aboard, staring into the jungle, while the twelve-pounder broke the silence with its boom.