“Well, ordered, not to leave the village without asking permission, so that you may have an escort; but you are quite at liberty to go anywhere you please about the place.”
“Ah, well,” said Murray, “I am not going to complain any more to-day. I have made myself a nuisance enough. Hallo, Ned, here comes your saucy young Malay friend.”
Ned looked sharply round, the doctor having stepped forward hurriedly to speak to one of the Malays seated on the steps of his house, and there, sure enough, was the gaily-dressed lad they had seen that morning, followed by his companion of the boat carrying a basket and the rod the first had used.
They saw them pass on, to be hidden directly by the trees, and they were still watching the place when the doctor returned.
“Sorry to have left you,” he said. “One of my patients—he was mauled badly in a tiger-hunt, but he is coming round nicely now.”
Ned pricked up his ears at the words tiger-hunt, and feeling more satisfied now with his new quarters, he followed the doctor into his garden, and then up the broad steps to the shady verandah, where a pleasant evening was spent, the dinner capitally served, Tim Driscol, now very neatly attired in white, waiting at table, and giving the scene quite a flavour of home. Then there were cigars and excellent coffee for the gentlemen, and a delightful long chat with the ladies beneath the shaded lamp which hung from one of the bamboo rafters, the doctor’s daughter readily answering Ned’s questions about their life and the natural history of the place. Of the former, he learned that the doctor had been persuaded while at Malacca to accept the post through the Tumongong, who was there on some kind of embassy. The terms had been tempting, and it had been arranged that he was to take his wife and daughter with him, all hesitation vanishing when the Malay chief introduced him to Mr Braine, who accepted his post directly he found that he would have the society of an Englishman, and in the end he too had brought his family. Their reception had been most cordial, and they had only to ask for any addition to their comfort to have it instantly granted by the rajah. He would give them everything, in fact, but liberty.
“Then you are quite prisoners too?” said Ned, who had listened to all this with the greatest of interest.
“I suppose so. Both papa and Mr Braine were furious at first, and said that they would never forgive the Tumongong for having tricked them, but he said it was the rajah’s orders, and that he dared not have come back without a doctor, and an officer who could drill the men. And really he was so kind, and has always been such a good friend when the rajah has been in one of his mad fits, that we have all ended by liking him.”
“But to be prisoners like this!” said Ned.
“Oh, we seldom think about it now. Papa says we shall never be so well off again, and the rajah, who nearly kills himself with indulgence, has such bad health that he can hardly bear to see the doctor out of his sight, and consequently papa has immense influence over him.”