The Argus Pheasant Part 28

Peter Gross's reply was noncommittal. He felt a little of the forces that were at work beneath the surface, and realized how quickly this childishly curious, childishly happy mob could be converted into a bedlam of savagery.

As they neared the huge twin Hindu deities, carved in stone, that formed the gate-posts of Wobanguli's palace grounds and the council-hall enclosure, the crowd ma.s.sed so thickly that it was impossible for them to proceed. Paddy drove his horse into the press and split an aisle by a vicious display of hoofs and the liberal use of his quirt-stock. The crowd gave way sullenly, those behind refusing to give way for those in front. Paddy leaned sidewise in his saddle as they pa.s.sed between the scowling G.o.ds.

"Into the lion's den," he whispered to Peter Gross. His eye was sparkling; roughing the natives had whetted his appet.i.te for action.

Peter Gross sprang from his horse lightly--he had learned to ride before he went to sea--and entered the dimly lit hall. Rouse remained at the entrance and began looking about for Inchi. The little Malay was rubbing down a horse, but gave no sign of recognition when Rouse's glance met his. As Paddy looked away, his face, too, sobered. Only his eyes were more keenly alert.

As Peter Gross became accustomed to the semi-darkness, he distinguished about forty chiefs and princes seated along the side walls of the building. There were two Europeans in the room in one corner. Peter Gross guessed their ident.i.ty before he could distinguish their faces; they were Muller and Van Slyck.

At the farther end of the hall was a platform. Two chairs of European make had been placed upon it. Wobanguli occupied one, the other was vacant. The hall was thick with smoke, for those who were not chewing betel were laboring on big Dutch pipes, introduced by their white rulers.

Silence greeted Peter Gross as he slowly walked the length of the hall, and none rose to do him the customary honor. Instead of mounting the platform he remained standing at its base and looked sternly into the face of the Rajah. In a voice suspiciously sweet he asked:

"Is it so long since a son of the white father has come to Bulungan that you have forgotten how he must be received, O Rajah?"

There was a moment's pregnant pause, a moment when the royal mind did some quick thinking. Then Wobanguli rose and said:

"We have heard the call and we are here, resident."

The moment Wobanguli rose a quick rustle and the clicking of steel apprised Peter Gross that the others also had risen. Although he knew it was not in his honor--custom forbade lesser chiefs from sitting while the Rajah stood--he accepted it as such. He did not look around until he had mounted the platform. Then he gazed at each man individually.

Something in his silent scrutiny sent a cold chill into the hearts of more than one of the chiefs who had endured it, but most of them returned it boldly and defiantly.

Not until each of the forty had felt the power of his mesmeric glance did Peter Gross speak.

"You may tell the council the purpose of this meting, Rajah," he announced, turning to Wobanguli, and then seated himself in the vacant chair.

As Wobanguli came forward, Peter Gross had an opportunity to measure his man. The Rajah was tall, quite tall for a Bornean, powerfully built, but a trifle stoop-shouldered. His features were p.r.o.nouncedly Malay rather than Dyak; there was a furtive look in his half-shut eyes that suggested craft and cunning, and his ever-ready smile was too suavely pleasant to deceive the resident.

"A panther; he will be hard to tame," was Peter Gross's unspoken thought.

Wobanguli began speaking in sonorous tones, using Malay-Dyak dialect, the _lingua franca_ of the residency.

"Rajahs, Custis, Datus, and Kapalas, to-day hath Allah and the Hanu Token and the great G.o.d Djath given a new ruler to Bulungan."

Peter Gross's brow contracted thoughtfully. It was apparent from Wobanguli's exordium that he was striving to please the adherents of every faith represented among the natives present. The Rajah continued:

"In the days when the great fire mountains poured their rivers of flame into the boiling ocean our forefathers, led by the great G.o.d Djath, came to Borneo. They built villages and begat children. The fire mountains belched flame and molten rock, the great floods came to drown the mountains, the earth shook, and whole jungles were swallowed up; but ever our fathers clung to the island they had come to possess. Then Djath said: 'This is a strong people. I shall make it my own, my chosen people, and give to them and to their children's children forever the land of Borneo.'

"From the seed of our fathers sprang many tribes. New nations came from over the sea and found habitation with us, and we called them 'brother.'

Last of all came the white man. He sold us guns, and knives, and metals, and fine horses, and the drink that Allah says we must not touch, and opium. By and bye, when he was strong and we were weak, he said: 'I will give you a resident who shall be a father unto you. There will be no more killings, but every man shall have plenty of gongs and bra.s.s rings for his wives, and many bolts of brilliantly colored cloth, and much tobacco.' So we let the white man give us a ruler."

There was an ominous stirring among the a.s.sembled chiefs. Peter Gross's face maintained an inscrutable calm, but he was thinking rapidly.

Wobanguli's speech had all the elements of nitroglycerine, he realized.

"It is now many moons since the first white father came to dwell with us," Wobanguli continued. "Three times has the great fire mountain belched flame and smoke to show she was angry with us, and three times have we given of our gifts to appease the spirits. We are poor. Our women hide their nakedness with the leaves of palm-trees. Our tribesmen carve their kris-handles from the branches of the ironwood-tree."

He paused. The air was electric. Another word, a single pa.s.sionate plea, would unsheath forty krisses, Peter Gross perceived. Wobanguli was looking at him, savage exultation leering in his eyes, but Peter Gross's face did not change a muscle, and he waited with an air of polite attention. Wobanguli faced the a.s.sembly again:

"Our elder brother from over the sea, who was sent to us by the little father at Batavia, will tell us to-day how he will redeem the promises made to us," he announced. "I have spoken."

So abrupt was the climax that Peter Gross scarcely realized the Rajah had concluded until he was back in his chair. There was a moment's dramatic hush. Conscious that Wobanguli had brought him to the very edge of a precipice as a test, conscious, too, that the Rajah was disappointed because his intended victim had failed to reveal the weakness he had expected to find, Peter Gross rose slowly and impressively to meet the glances of the forty chiefs now centered so hostilely upon him.

"Princes of our residency of Bulungan"--he began; there was a stir in the crowd; he was using the native tongue, the same dialect Wobanguli had used--"the Rajah Wobanguli has told you the purpose of this meeting.

He has told you of the promises made by those who were resident here before me. He has reminded you that these promises have not been fulfilled. But he has not told you why they were not fulfilled. I am here to-day to tell you the reason."

A low, whistling sound, the simultaneous sharp intake of breath through the nostrils of forty men, filled the room. Pipes and betel and sirih were laid aside. Rajahs, governors, and princes craned their heads and looked ominously over the shafts of their spears at their resident.

"There are in this land three peoples, or perhaps four," Peter Gross said. "Only two of these are the real owners of Borneo, the people whose fathers settled this island in the early days, as your Rajah has told you. They are the hill Dyaks and the sea Dyaks, who are one people though two nations. The Malays are outlanders. The Chinese are outlanders. They have the same right to live here that the white man has--no more, no less. That right comes from the increase in riches they bring and the trade they bring."

A hoa.r.s.e murmur arose. The Malay Datus' scowls were blacker. The Dyaks looked sullenly at their arch-enemies, the brown immigrants from Malacca.

"Long before the first white man came here, the two nations of Dyaks--the Dyaks of the sea and the Dyaks of the hills--were at war with each other. The skulls of the people of each nation decorated the lodge-poles of their enemies. The Dyaks of the sea made treaties with the Bajaus, the Malays, the Bugis, and the Chinese sea-rovers. Together these people have driven the Dyaks of the hills far inland, almost to the crest of the great fire mountains. But the price they pay is the surrender of their strong men to row the proas of their masters, the pirates. The spring rains come, but the rice is left unsowed, for a fair crop attracts the spoilers, and only the poor are left in peace. Poverty has come upon your Dyaks. Your kris-handles are of wood, while those of your masters are of gold and jewels."

Peter Gross paused. The Dyaks were glaring at the Malays, the Malays looked as fiercely back. Several chiefs were fingering their kris-handles. Muller was watching the tribesmen in anxious bewilderment; Van Slyck hid in the shadows.

"Forget your feuds and listen to me," Peter Gross thundered in a voice of authority that focused instant attention upon him. "Let me tell you what I have come to do for Bulungan."

He turned to a group of short, lithely built men armed with spears.

"To you, hill Dyaks, I bring peace and an end of all raiding. No more shall the coast-rovers cross your borders. Your women will be safe while you hunt dammar gum and resin in the forests; the man who steals a woman against her will shall hang. I, your resident, have spoken."

He turned toward the delegation of coast natives.

"To you, Dyaks of the sea, I bring liberation from your masters who make slaves of your young men. There will be no more raids; you may grow your crops in peace."

To the scowling Malays he said:

"Merchants of Malacca, think not that my heart is bitter against you, for I bring rich gifts to you also. I bring you the gift of a happy and contented people, rich in the produce of this fertile island, eager to buy the things you bring to them in trade. The _balas_ money which you now pay the pirates will be counted with your profits, for I will drive the pirates from these seas.

"These are my commands to all of you. Keep your houses in order. If a Dyak of the hills slay a Dyak of the sea, keep your krisses sheathed and come and tell me. If a man take a woman that is not his own, keep your krisses sheathed and come and tell me. If your neighbor arm his people and drive your people to the jungle and burn their village, come and tell me. I will do justice. But swift and terrible will be my vengeance on him who breaks the law."

An ominous rumble of angry dissent filled the hall. It was instantly quelled. Towering over them, his powerful frame lifted to its full height, Peter Gross glared at them so fiercely that the stoutest hearts among them momentarily quailed and shrank back. Taking instant advantage of the silence, he announced sternly:

"I am now ready to hear your grievances, princes of the residency. You may speak one by one in the order of your rank."

Calmly turning his back on them, he walked back to his chair.

There was a tense silence of several minutes while Datu looked at Rajah and Rajah at Datu. Peter Gross saw the fierce sway of pa.s.sions and conflicting opinions. Muller looked from face to face with an anxious frown, striving to ascertain the drift of the tide, and Van Slyck grinned saturninely.

A powerful Malay suddenly leaped to his feet, and glared defiantly at Peter Gross.

"Hear me, princes of Bulungan," he shouted. "Year after year the servants of him who rules in Batavia have come to us and said: 'Give us a tenth of your rice, of your dammar gum, give us bamboo, and rattan, and cocoanuts as tribute money and we will protect you from your enemies.' Year after year have our fields been laid waste by the Dyaks of the hills, by the Beggars of the sea, till our people are poor and starve in the jungles, but no help has come from the white man. Twice has my village been burned by men from the white man's s.h.i.+ps that throw fire and iron; not once have those s.h.i.+ps come to save me from the sea Beggars. Then one day a light came. Grogu, I said, make a peace with the great Datu of the rovers of the sea, give him a part of each harvest.

Three great rains have now pa.s.sed since I made that peace. He has kept my coasts free from harm, he has punished the people of the hills who stole my cattle. With whom I ask you, princes of Bulungan, shall I chew the betel of friends.h.i.+p?"

"Ai-yai-yai-yai," was the angry murmur that filled the hall in a rising a.s.sent.

A wizened old Malay, with a crooked back and bereft of one eye, rose and shook a spear venomously. His three remaining teeth were ebon from excessive betel-chewing.

"I had forty buffaloes," he cried in a shrill, crackly voice. "The white man in the house on the hill came and said: 'I must have ten for the balas (tribute money).' The white kris-bearer from the war-house on the hill came and said: 'I must have ten for my firestick-bearers.' The white judge came and said: 'I must have ten for a fine because your people killed a robber from the hills.' Then came the sea-rovers and said: 'Give us the last ten, but take in exchange bra.s.s gongs, and copper-money, and silks from China.' Whom must I serve, my brothers, the thief who takes and gives or the thief who takes all and gives nothing?"