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

by F. S. Brereton

"All is well," he was saying to himself, as he knelt beside the tin trunk which contained his possessions. "The young fool was suspicious, that I could see, but my word satisfied him, and he is now tramping the deck in the full belief that no danger threatens. But Hanns Schlott knows better. Ha, ha! Christian van Sonerell will make nothing of the climb on to the schooner, though the rope which I had secured over the side would have been of great service to him. In a little while he will be here, and then I shall be ready."

Searching amongst the contents of his trunk he produced an enormous pistol, which he carefully examined. Then, thrusting a small bag of money into one of his pockets and gently closing the lid of the box, he stole from the cabin, weapon in hand, and went creeping across the floor in the direction of the bunk in which lay Mr. Beverley. Twice he came to a sudden halt in the course of his murderous journey, and crouched there silent and motionless beside the cabin table, for the rustle of the sleeper's bed-clothes, and an interruption in the regularity of his breathing, told that Mr. Beverley was not so deeply unconscious as this rascally Dutchman would desire. Indeed, for a minute or more it seemed as though some sense of impending danger, some vague dream of a levelled weapon and the hand of an assassin, had crossed the mind of the sleeper, for he suddenly awoke to a troubled half-consciousness, and, raising himself upon an elbow, peered with blinking eyes into the darkness. Did he hear anything? He lay there so still, breathing so silently, that the Dutchman's craven heart leapt into his mouth, while the fingers which grasped his weapon trembled as though they would relinquish their grasp. Squeezing his body as far as possible beneath the table he crouched still closer to the floor, in the attitude of a tiger about to spring upon his victim. And all the while he kept those slit-like eyes fixed in the direction of the bunk, while his ears listened eagerly for outside sounds.

"Will those fools never come?" he said with many a curse beneath his breath. "If only Christian van Sonerell and his men would arrive at this moment I would send the bullet crashing into his body. And if this man should stir again I will press the trigger without a doubt. Ja, I will risk it, for to be discovered now would be to ruin our enterprise and get myself into trouble. Ah! the dolt thinks better of it, and has placed his face once more upon the pillow. Then I will remain as I am and give him a few minutes longer to live. By then he will have settled to sleep once more, and will fall the more easily to my weapon. Hist! There is someone moving."

As he spoke, a slight sound from the far end of the alleyway, where John Marshall had his quarters, broke upon the villain's ear, and instantly he became even more alert, while once more an unsteady arm levelled the pistol, prepared to turn it upon the sleeper or on anyone else who should be so unfortunate as to come into the cabin and disturb him in the midst of his work. "Ah!" Hanns Schlott's head became suddenly erected, while the face turned involuntarily with a rapid movement towards the companion ladder. At the same moment the splash of an oar broke the silence, causing Tyler to suddenly halt in his restless tramp upon the deck and then dash towards the side. There it was again, followed in succession by others, proving that a boat was approaching, while scarcely had the fact dawned upon his senses than a dim object, rapidly becoming more visible through the darkness, suddenly came into view. Whipping a weapon from beneath his coat, he levelled it in the direction of the object and gave vent to a shout.

"Stop there!" he cried in piercing tones. "If you pull a stroke nearer I will fire into you. Halt, I say!"

Leaning upon the rail which guarded the schooner's side, he stretched towards the oncoming boat, closely watching its movements, while at the same time he eagerly listened for sounds from below, for some sign which would tell him that Mr. Beverley and John Marshall had sprung from their bunks and were rushing to his aid. Nor was he destined to be kept long waiting, for hardly had the words left his lips, warning those on the boat to come no nearer, than a pistol-shot rang out in the night with startling loudness, the sharp report rushing up from the cabin below. Then a piercing shriek awakened the echoes, telling of the foul crime which had just been committed. Almost instantly there was the noise of a scuffle below, followed by the soft thud of a heavy blow delivered, and a second afterwards a crash and the sound of splintering wood as some unwieldy body fell upon the table.

Utterly bewildered at the turn which events had suddenly taken, Tyler stood there leaning upon the rail, dumbfounded and uncertain how to act. Not for long, however, did he hesitate, for whatever the trouble below there was no doubt that a serious danger threatened them outside. Indeed, one quick glance told him that in spite of his warning words the dim ghostly object which he had caught sight of was rapidly approaching, while the splash of oars became now still more distinct. Instantly his finger closed round the trigger of his weapon, and just as the clatter of heavily-booted feet ascending the companion told him that John Marshall was at hand, his revolver spoke out, sending a bullet into the very centre of the men crowded together in the oncoming boat. There was another shriek, still more piercing than that one which had ascended from below, while a shadowy figure, which he could just see through the gloom, suddenly tossed a pair of lanky arms into the night and then collapsed in a heap. But what was a life to these marauders? With a savage heave, as the lifeless body fell upon him, one of the oarsmen tossed his dead comrade overboard, and then bent to his oar once more, stimulated to do so by the encouraging shouts of a burly individual who stood in the bows of the boat.

"On them!" he shouted in stentorian tones, using a mixture of the Dutch and Malay language. "Clamber aboard and slit the throats of any of the Englishmen who may still be alive. Pull for it, for if you do not hurry Hanns Schlott will have done the work, and you will be disappointed."