There was a burst of cheering here, of a rather barbaric nature, for from Rajah Suleiman’s gathering there came one solitary boom from a particularly musical gong. This rang out like a signal, and was followed by a score more from as many of the sonorous instruments, supplemented by an excited yelling from the spear-armed men.
This ended as quickly as it had begun, and, treated as a challenge, was repeated from the centre of Rajah Hamet’s party, who followed with a yell that might have been taken as a defiant answer to hereditary enemies.
Matters seemed to be growing exciting, and Major Knowle, who was quiet and watchful as well as hot, despatched messages to the commanders of companies to be on their guard.
But now, as the last gong ceased to send its quivering jar through the heated air, to be reflected back from the jungle, a burst of Malay cheering arose from the excited crowd of spectators; the elephants joined in, trumpeting loudly; and then, as the strange roar died away into silence, the band-master took advantage of the opportunity, raised his instrument, made a sign, the big drum boomed its best in answer to six of the drummer’s heaviest blows, and to the stirring strains of the favourite old march, “The British Grenadiers,” the band moved off to take up a fresh position.
As soon as this was occupied the second part of the evolutions commenced. The little force was divided, and took up positions for attack and defence; men were thrown out, skirmishing began, and the Malay crowd cheered as the men in scarlet ran and took cover; and the field was soon after covered with advancing and retiring men, who ran, lay down, fired from one knee, fired from their chests, ran and took cover again; and the musketry began to roll in sputtering repetitions, till the retiring force seemed to take courage, gathered together, repelled their adversaries with half-a-dozen vigorous volleys, and advanced in turn, gradually driving their supposed enemies back, till, when the smoke was rising in a faint, misty cloud to float softly away over the river, the final stages of the sham-fight were nearly at an end, and for a concluding curtain to the mimic warfare the two little forces advanced as if to meet in contention in the middle of the field. But at a certain stage a bugle rang out, and with wonderful precision the men fell into column and marched away to the far end of the drill-ground, where they halted, turned, and then, in obedience to the Major’s command, began to advance in line towards where, on their left, were the two bodies of armed men comprising the followers of the two Rajahs, above whom towered the two knots of elephants, while on their right were the gathered crowds from the nearest campongs, excitedly watching for what was to come next.
What was to come next and was now in progress was Britain’s thin red line, and that line was on that occasion very thin, very, very red, and extremely long, purposely extended so as to make the most of the tiny force.
The crowds cheered in their fashion as the train moved on, and, excited by the yelling, the elephants began to trumpet as the troops were now nearly half across the parade-ground. Then the bugle rang out “Halt!” and the orders followed quickly: “Fire!” and with wonderful precision there was the long line of puffs of smoke as the volley roared and half obscured the advancing force in the thin veil of smoke.
There was a fresh burst of cheers from the crowds, who now saw that the little line of scarlet-coated men was marching out of the filmy, grey cloud and lessening the distance between them.
The next bugle-call was rather unsettling, and the next still more so, for it meant “Double;” while the last of all was more disturbing than anything that had taken place that day, for it was followed by a peculiar flickering of light as the brilliant sun
