Middy and Ensign

by George Manville Fenn

And yet, knowing all this, he could not stir, but lay as if stunned, till the blood that had been frozen seemed suddenly to start in rapid action, and his veins began to throb, for instead of the blade of a kris being thrust remorselessly into his side, the handle was softly pushed through against his hand.

This was a friend then below him, and had he had any doubt before, the soft pressure of a hand upon his told him that he was right, for there was a ring upon one finger that touched his, whose form he recognised. It was his father’s ring, and he had come at the risk of losing his own life to save his son’s.

For a few moments hand pressed hand. Then Ali’s was drawn softly down between the bamboos, and two hands placed it under one of the long, split canes upon which he was lying, held it there, and then pressed it upwards.

Ali was puzzled. He dare not speak, neither did the Tumongong below venture so much as to whisper, but kept on forcing his son’s hand upwards.

There was a faint creak, and then the light came into Ali’s puzzled brain. It was plain enough now; this bamboo had been loosened at one end, for it gave way; and the young man’s heart throbbed painfully, as he felt that the way of escape was open. He had but to wait his time, and then softly raise this one broad, split cane, to make space enough to let himself slide through into the open space beneath the post-supported house. Then the jungle was before him, and it was his own fault if he did not escape in the darkness.

He left off clasping the broad, split bamboo, and stretched out his hand once more to clasp that of his father, in expression of his thankfulness; but though he reached out in all directions, striving to grasp the loving hand that had brought help, there was nothing near, and Ali felt as if in a dream, till his other hand touched the kris that was now beneath his chest.

It was his right arm that was forced down between the bamboos, and he was consequently lying over upon his chest, when, to his horror, he heard a noise, and saw the principal of his guards seize a torch and enter the room, kris in hand.

For a moment Ali felt that he must spring up, kris in hand, and fight for his life. Fortunately he lay still and feigned sleep, his heart beating heavily, as he hoped to conceal the loosened bamboo with his body, as well as the kris.

The Malay looked curiously round the room, and held his dammar-torch on high, as he peered here and there. Not that he had heard a sound, but he was evidently suspicious, or else extra careful.

Ali lay motionless and breathing heavily, but with a choking sensation in his breast, as he felt that now, just when escape was open to him, he had been discovered. He was in such a state of excitement that he was ready to spring up and attack his guard, should he make any sign of having found out what had taken place; but though the man held the torch here and there, and walked round the room before coming back and bending down over Ali, as if to see whether he was asleep, he saw nothing.