“A Malay who offended the rajah by a serious breach, and broke out of his prison about five days ago.” He added a few words in the Malayan tongue to the Tumongong, who responded.
“Yes, they’ve got the poor wretch,” said the doctor. “Well, he was a bad scoundrel. Let’s stop and see them land.”
The second dragon boat was rowed quickly up to the jetty, the oars laid in, and the armed men landed, and stood ready while the rowers lifted out a savagely defiant-looking man, whose wrists and ankles were heavily chained. Then a couple of more showily-dressed Malays stepped out, a little procession was formed, and the prisoner was then led, with his chains clanking and dragging in the dust, away toward the rajah’s residence, the Tumongong talking rapidly to the fresh comers for a few minutes, and then rejoining the Englishmen to walk with them to the neat-looking house set apart for the enforced visitors.
They went up the steps, to find the place light, cool, and rather dark, coming as they did out of the glare of the sun; but as their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, it was to see that the place was neatly covered with matting, and that there was a darker inner room with more mats, evidently intended for sleeping.
“I should hardly have expected that you had houses to let,” said Murray, who, now that their position was unavoidable, seemed bent on removing any bad impression made by his rather warm display of temper.
“We have none,” said the doctor. “This is the house of one of the minor chiefs, and he has been sent elsewhere.”
“But really—I would rather—oh, we can make shift in a humbler place than this.”
“It is the rajah’s orders that you should come here, and we are all bound to obey him.”
“Oh, very well. Then we will obey,” said Murray. “Look, Ned, here are our traps already. But one moment, Doctor Braine, are our men to stay here too?”
The doctor turned to the chief, who said quietly: “The man who is their servant is to stay. The others will have a house to themselves.”