“That is not true,” hastily interrupted Ardjan.
“That, you see, amounts to treachery—treachery to the Company,” continued Lim Ho without taking the slightest notice of Ardjan’s indignant denial. “It’s a serious matter as you know.”
“I tell you it is all a lie,” cried the wretched Javanese, driven to despair by the other’s manner. “It is all a lie. I ran away to save Dalima from your filthy clutches; you may drive your dagger into me for that, but I am no traitor.”
“I tell you again,” replied Lim Ho with perfect calmness, “that your intention was to betray the secrets of the Company. You know the laws of the Company, do you not? I will therefore give you the same punishment as to those two scoundrels. I will then have you put on board the Kiem Ping Hin; not as her mate; oh, no, but simply as a slave; and you will be put ashore at Poeloe Bali and there you will have to remain on pain of death. You will remain there, I say, as long as ever the Company shall see fit.”
“Oh no!” wildly cried Ardjan, “not that, anything but that; rather kill me at once. I have not played the spy; I am no traitor. I will not, I cannot live away from Dalima!”
The face of Lim Ho plainly showed the bitter hatred he felt towards his rival—a hatred the more intense because he knew that Ardjan possessed the fair young girl’s heart.
He did not, however, vouchsafe any further reply; but gave a sign to the boatmen.
With blows and kicks they drove the prisoners before them down the rough steps. They revelled in the brutality which they were allowed to show to these unhappy wretches.
With their hands tightly bound behind their backs the three were half driven, half pushed down, and being quite unable to steady themselves they tumbled down into the filthy mud beneath and grovelled there amidst the shouts of laughter of their tormentors until they were again roughly put on their feet.
Lim Ho and his pig-tailed companions heartily joined in the merriment and thus encouraged the rough sailors in their unmerciful handling of the miserable captives.