We had been some days at sea, delayed by light baffling winds. The captain began to grow impatient; his wife scolded him more than ever; and the lady passengers began to inquire when they were likely to see their homes, while I began to regret that I had not taken some more rapid means of conveyance. It now first occurred to me that it would have been better had I secured a small vessel to myself, so that I might at once sail in any direction I might deem advisable.
I was one evening walking the deck with the second mate, Adam Fairburn, when he stopped, and I saw him look earnestly ahead. He immediately took a telescope to watch the object which had attracted his attention.
“What is that you see?” I asked.
“Why it may be the curl of some wave, or a low shore, with some scattered trees on it, or a fleet of prahus; or it may be only fancy, for this uncertain light deceives one,” he replied. “However, I’ll go aloft and take a better look before I tell the master, and frighten him and the ladies out of their wits.”
Saying this he sprung into the rigging and ascended to the fore-topgallant mast-head. When he came down, I asked him what he had seen.
“A fleet of Malay craft, of some sort or other, there is no doubt of it,” he answered. “They may be honest traders; but they may be Illanon pirates from Sooloo, on the coast of Borneo, bound on some plundering expedition. The rascals often venture into the China seas, and sometimes right up the strait of Malacca, though they like best to skulk about their own coasts, and steal out on any craft passing that way. If there is a good breeze we need not fear them; but they are fellows not to be trifled with. I must tell the master.”
Captain Van Deck was seen hurrying from his cabin and ascending to the mast-head. His countenance on his return showed what he thought about the matter; and summoning his mates, he held earnest consultation with them. Fairburn was for standing boldly on and running past them in the night, keeping a look-out, to give them a warm reception should they come near us; but the Dutchman thought that the safest plan would be to keep altogether out of their way. As they were steering about south-west, our course was altered to south-east. We soon, however, perceived that we were seen and watched, for some of their prahus shortly tacked and stood in a direction to cut us off—so thought Captain Van Deck. On this his trepidation became excessive, not a little increased by the alarm expressed by his better half. He saw that the safest plan was to keep well to windward of the enemy; so he ordered the yards to be braced sharp up, and we stood away on a north-east course.
The breeze was fresh, and we might hope before morning, even should the prahus attempt to follow us, to run them out of sight; so Captain Van Deck lighted his pipe and betook himself to a bottle of his favourite schiedam. None of the officers were disposed, nor was I, as may be surmised, to turn in during the night, for the Sooloo pirates were not fellows to be trifled with. In those days they plundered every craft; and if they did not destroy their prisoners, they sold them into captivity, whence there was no hope of redemption. Since then, thanks to the enlightened plans of Sir James Brooke, aided by the British ships of war in those seas, their depredations have been somewhat lessened; but much must be done before their destructive power is completely destroyed, and the surrounding people can enjoy to the full the blessings of unrestricted commerce. The night was sufficiently light to enable us to see a considerable distance. Our captain walked the deck with an uneasy step, his night-glass constantly to his eye, and he declared that he could distinguish in the far distance the suspicious prahus, as they were endeavouring to beat up to capture us. The more he looked the more alarmed and agitated he became, till at last he appeared to lose all command over himself. With a groan he rushed down to console himself with a glass of his favourite schiedam. Taking the telescope which he had left on deck, I looked towards the spot where the Malay vessels were last seen. I looked for some time, but could make nothing out on the dark horizon. I then handed the glass to Fairburn.
“I begin to doubt whether the prahus are there at all,” I observed. “I trust they are conjured up by the skipper’s fears.”
His answer was a low laugh; but he, notwithstanding, swept the telescope carefully round the southern horizon.