One night, while running through the China Seas for Singapore—at which place Prabu told us that he should find a profitable market for his nests—as Martin and I were alone on deck keeping watch, we were startled by a most extraordinary noise. At first I took it to be the beating of an Indian tom-tom in the distance; but no—that was impossible, for we were far from the land, and no canoe was near. Then it struck me that it resembled the buzzing of a multitude of bees. Whatever it was, it caused a tremulous motion; for, placing my hand upon the side of the prahu, I could distinctly feel it.
“What can it be, Martin?” said I. “Are we grinding over the top shoots of a coral forest, or is it a shoal of sucking-fish mistaking the junk for a shark?”
“It sounds to me like the hissing of a myriad of serpents,” replied my brother, and his surmise was not unreasonable; for in those seas, yellow and black snakes are very numerous, and it was possible we might be cutting through a mass of floating spawn—but then the water would have exhibited a phosphoric sparkling. Thus, not knowing to what to ascribe it, and fearing that it might be something dangerous to the prahu’s bottom, I awoke Prabu, who was asleep in the deck-cabin, and advised him to have the well sounded; but he laughed heartily, and, much to our chagrin, said the noise was caused by a shoal of “drumming-fish.” These creatures, which are peculiar to those seas, are of large size, very ugly, with a kind of bladder under the throat; totally unfit for human food, and capable of making themselves distinctly heard while passing under the bottom of a vessel, even though at a depth of seven fathoms. After this I pondered some time before offering our captain advice—touching, at least, the safety of the vessel.
The following day we met with an incident equally ludicrous, although of a more vexatious if not mischievous kind. About mid-day, while we were hiding from the burning sun under deck-awnings, we were startled by the report of a great gun, and, jumping to our feet, saw a large ship bearing towards us.
“It is a Dutch war-sloop,” said Prabu.
“Aye,” said Martin, “I can see that by her flag; but that’s no reason why she should send that ball of iron across our bows.”
“See,” replied Prabu, “her captain is signaling us to hove to, while he sends an officer on board.”
“To what are we indebted for the honor of the visit?” I asked, as soon as Prabu had given the order to obey the Dutchman.
“He takes us for Chinese or Malay pirates. Like the English, the Dutch will permit no thieves in the East but themselves—at least, when they can prevent it.”
The war-sloop’s boat was soon alongside, and in it a dozen sailors, armed with cutlasses and pistols, and a boy-officer, very short, very stout, and very consequential.