The Rajah of Dah

by George Manville Fenn

“I should advise you to master it as soon as you can,” said that gentleman, who was now walking beside them as they threaded their way in and out among the houses, where every now and then they could catch a glimpse of a pair of eyes watching them, though the people they passed took not the slightest notice of them, or just glanced, turned their betel-nut in their mouths, and went on chewing it with their eyes half-closed, as if the coming of strangers was not of the slightest importance to them.

“Is it far to the palace?” asked Murray, giving Ned a quaint look.

“Just beyond those houses, and amongst the group of trees you can see over their roofs,” said Mr Braine; and he then turned and spoke to the officers, who replied to him in Malay.

“His highness is waiting to give you audience,” he continued. “Mr Murray, I do not like to force advice upon a stranger, but I should like to say, for your own sake and that of your young friend, try to accept the position in which you find yourself, however hard it may be. And,” he added in a whisper, looking sharply at Ned, “whatever you see, do not laugh. Eastern gentlemen are extremely sensitive to ridicule.”

“I shall not laugh,” said Ned quietly; and then he began thinking about the punctilious ways of his companions till they had passed the last houses, entered a patch of forest, and from that came suddenly upon a clearing where a spacious bamboo house stood half hidden by a clump of umbrageous trees, beneath one of which was drawn up a group which at the first glance made the boy wonder whether he was gazing at a scene in real life, or some imaginary picture from an eastern tale.

The first figure upon which Ned’s eyes rested was seated in the centre of the group, on a quaintly made stool, and his gorgeous dress immediately suggested that this must be the great man himself whom they had come to see. For he was evidently got up expressly for the occasion, with his courtiers carefully arranged about him, some standing behind and on either side, but for the most part squatted down on the sandy ground in the position affected by eastern people, though here and there one could be seen right down cross-legged à la turque.

The rajah was the only one in European costume, and at the first glance at the man, with his heavy fat sensual-looking face and lurid eyes, Ned recalled his companion’s words: “Whatever you see, do not laugh.”

He felt at once the value of the advice, as his eye ran over the chief’s costume, for he was gorgeously arrayed in a military tunic and trousers undoubtedly made in London to order, the tailor having had instructions to prepare for his highness a dress that would be striking and impressive, and from this point of view he had done his work well. The trousers were blue with gold stripes, of the most elaborate floral pattern, such as decorate levee uniforms; and, after the fashion of our most gaily-dressed hussars of fifty years ago, there were wonderful specimens of embroidery part of the way down the front of the thigh. But the tunic was the dazzling part of the show, for it was of the regular military scarlet, and was neither that of field-marshal, dragoon, nor hussar, but a combination of all three, frogged, roped, and embroidered in gold, and furnished with a magnificent pair of twisted epaulets. Across the breast was a gorgeous belt, one mass of gold ornamentation, while the sword-belt and slings were similarly encrusted, and the sabre and sheath—carefully placed between his legs, so that it could be seen to the best advantage—was a splendid specimen of the goldsmiths’ and sword-cutlers’ art, and would have been greatly admired in a museum. To complete the effect, the rajah wore an Astrakan busby, surmounted by a tall scarlet egret-plume, similar to that worn by a horse-artillery officer of the British army, the cap being corded, starred, and held in place by a golden chain cheek-strap.

The effect ought to have been most striking, and so it was in one way; but it was spoiled by the presence of a jetty-black Malay attendant, dressed in an ordinary dark paletôt and military-looking cap, holding over the rajah’s head a white sun umbrella of common cotton, and the fact patent to any Englishman, that the uniform must have been ordered without the customary visit to the tailor, the result destroying everything with the horribly striking truth that it did not fit!

Ned bit his tongue hard, and gazed to right and left at the swarthy courtiers of the monarch, six of whom were squatted down in the front row, some in little military caps, others in brilliant kerchiefs tied turban fashion about their heads, and all wearing brilliant silken sarongs. These were the rajah’s sword-bearers, and each held by the ornamental sheath a kris or parang of singular workmanship, with the hilt resting against the right shoulder. The rest of the rajah’s people were picturesquely arranged, and in their native dress looked to a man far better than their ruler, who was the incongruous spot in the group, which was impressive enough to an English lad, with its lurid fierce-looking faces and dark oily eyes peering from the mass of yellow and scarlet, while everywhere, though with the hilt covered by the folds of the sarong, could be made out the fact that each man carried at his waist a deadly-looking kris.