Ali stepped into the boat with his friend, and advised caution; for he warned Bob that, although severely punished, the rajah was in no wise beaten, and that, as likely as not, a force of men were lying hidden amongst the reeds to protect the injured prahu.
“All right!” said Bob, “I’ll be careful.” And to show how careful he intended to be, he let the cutter run up amidst the reeds, and jumped out with a dozen men, provided with some fiery spirit, and some spun yarn and matches.
“I think you ought to search the reeds first with a few shots from your marines’ rifles,” said Ali, who was gazing around very distrustfully; and no wonder, for there was every likelihood of some of the Malays being in ambush.
“No need,” said Bob, laughing. “We’ve given them such a lesson as they won’t forget for some time, my lad. Come along.”
Ali leaped ashore, and they tried to get on board the prahu, which seemed close in to the bank; but finding this was not the case, they returned to the boat, and pushed off through the rustling reeds to row round to the other side, and there board her by means of a rope.
It was well for the little party that they returned as they did, for in twenty places dark figures were stealing through the thick, long reeds quite unseen, but all converging upon the spot where the cutter ran to the shore.
The return to the boat upset the plans of the ambush, but the Malays who formed the party were not beaten; and finding their first plan hopeless, they immediately adopted another, and began creeping through the reeds, hardly making them rustle as they made now for the prahu.
“Heave up a rope, one of you,” said Bob, “unless anybody can climb up.”
This was as the bowman held the cutter close up against the prahu’s side with his boat-hook.
“If one on ’em keeps the cutter alongside, sir, I can get up, and then make fast a rope,” said the bowman.