“It is the kamadoog,” the sufferer managed to say between his sobs of anguish.
“The kamadoog!” cried the bystanders in horror.
It was plain enough now. One of the spectators had taken up a few torn leaves, and at once recognised the terrible nettle. Every man in the crowd turned pale with horror. And truly the kamadoog is a dreadful plant. The slightest contact with its formidable leaves occasions a violent itching, painful as a severe burn; and, when used as an instrument of torture, it causes the most intolerable suffering, for at least seven days; it makes the limbs stiffen, and produces a burning fever, which not unfrequently ends in the most painful death.
“Has anyone here any ‘sirihkalk?’ ” (chalk made of sea-shells) cried Dalima.
Some few of the bystanders had with them the “sirih,” which they are fond of chewing. They unwrapped the sirih-leaf in which were the pinang-nut, the chalk, and the tobacco, which form this highly-prized chew, and gave the chalk to the girl, who hastened to anoint the sufferer with the paste-like alkali. But, unfortunately, so great was the surface which had been exposed to the stroke of the hairy leaves, that the supply of “sirih-chalk” was altogether inadequate, and only a very small portion of the blisters could be treated with the remedy. Dalima was in despair. There was nothing else for it but to carry Ardjan into the hut, which afforded a shelter from the burning sun. Then some of the men hurried away to fetch a supply of oil and chalk, which they hoped would mitigate the pain, and check the fever. By evening, if all were well, Ardjan might perhaps have so far recovered as to bear the fatigue of being moved to more convenient quarters.
While these remedies were being applied to poor Ardjan, the boat in which Lim Ho had put off, was being rowed past the djaga monjet, and was getting out of the little bay. The policemen stood on the shore calling to the crew to come back; but no one took the slightest notice of their summons, and, as they had no firearms with them to enforce obedience, the only reply they got was a derisive cheer, and a shout of defiance.
As he rowed by the djaga monjet, Lim Ho had plainly recognised Dalima, who, actively employed in assisting her tortured lover, was running about, in and out, here and there.
The sight of her literally maddened the brutal Chinaman; he was on the point of ordering his boat’s crew to return and row to land. But, in another instant, he came to himself, and recovered his reason. It would indeed have been the act of a madman to try and carry off the girl just then. He knew that he could place great dependence upon the power of his gold; but yet, in full daylight, in the very face of all those people, he felt he could hardly try its influence upon the native police. So he could only shake his fist in impotent rage, and the word to return remained unspoken.
The boat swiftly glided out of the Moeara Tjatjing, and at once made for the Kiem Ping Hin, which was already loosening her sails, and waiting impatiently for the return of her boat’s crew. As they mounted the deck, Captain Awal Boep Said came up to report to Lim Ho that the smoke of a steamer could just be seen on the horizon. “Probably,” he added, “it is the Matamata, she was here yesterday.”
“Those white blockheads,” muttered Lim Ho, with a scornful laugh. “At night they have their coloured lights up, and we can tell them miles away. By day they take care to send up a cloud of smoke which no one can mistake. I will bet they have not discovered us yet, while we have had our eye on her ever so long ago.”