Trapped by Malays Part 29

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

A STRANGE FEVER.

It was to Archie Maine like a bad attack of the fever from which he had suffered when he first went up-country in the gunboat from Singapore.

There was that horrible beating and throbbing in his head, only intensely more confusing than it had been then; and sometimes, when he could think and everything did not seem mentally upside-down, he was being puzzled by two questions. One was, "Is it jungle fever?" the other, "Is it the throbbing and beating of the gunboat engines?" And this latter he favoured the more because he felt convinced that the heat, the burning, scorching heat, in his head must be because they had put him in a berth close by the furnace fires.

Throb, throb--burn, burn--and then all nothingness for long enough. He could not move; he could not speak; he could not think; only hour after hour in the midst of the throbbing pain he felt dried up, choking with thirst, and always fighting hard to get back the power to think.

What did it all mean? Where was he? There was the throbbing as of the engines, and the heat, but somehow he felt that he could not be on the gunboat. For once in a way there was a roar as of wild beasts; then it was not the roar of wild beasts, for it seemed to be the blast of a bugle, out of tune, harsh, and blown by some horrible giant, so big, so vast, so confusing that, as he was trying to think what it could be and why, everything was all confusion again. If he could only think! If he could only make it out, why it was, and what it was! And he was in a hurry to do this. It seemed as if he was struggling with all his might to be able to think, before everything was shut down again.

He did not know what was going to be shut down, or what there was to be shut down. He did not understand; but he could feel the awful heat, the heavy, burning, throbbing pain, and with it--there was nothing. And what was nothing? Nothing but darkness and the great question: why?-- which grew and grew and grew till it became bigger and bigger and resolved itself into something going round and round; and that something seemed to be why he could not think.

How long this went on Archie did not know; but after a time in the darkness there seemed to come a faint dawning like a feeble ray of light, which suggested that he must be at home in England on a frightfully hot day, lying down on one of the benches in the Lion House at the Zoo. For there was that tremendous giant's roar or trumpeting sound, and this must, he knew, be one of the savage beasts, and had something to do with his having suddenly dropped to sleep and being wakened by the bellowing sound.

Then more darkness--silence--the ever-increasing confusion and whir, and nothingness, till some time or other there was a fresh coming of the dawn, in the midst of which he felt something that seemed wonderfully cool and moist laid upon his head, and a voice that seemed to come from miles away whispered:

"Poor old chap!"

Then all was dark again, and he seemed to be dreaming of the fever and the doctor that was talking to him and telling him that there were six of the men just as bad as he was, and that he was to take _that_. He could think now, for he distinctly heard him say:

"Tip it up. It will do you good."

And somehow the engines seemed to have been stopped, and he felt as if he was being lifted on to some one's arm away from the tremendous heat of the engine fires, and he knew it was the Doctor--good old Morley!-- who was holding a very hard wooden cup to his lips for him to drink the medicine. No, it was not nasty; it was beautifully cool and good. He felt that the Doctor had put in so much water that he could not taste the physic; and he drank on and on, every drop seeming to make it easier at last to think. And then the cup was being taken from his lips, and he tried to raise his hand to catch it and hold it so that he might drink more; but his arm fell as if nerveless, and he uttered a deep groan.

"Oh, come!" rose to his ears now, as if from a long way off. "That's something! Ain't going to die this time."

"Not going to die this time," some one whispered, as if it were breathed with a hot breath upon his lips; and then he lay thinking in a very feeble way, and feeling the while so tired, as a great longing came over him to go to sleep. It seemed like hours before that longing was fulfilled; and then he woke up not knowing why or wherefore, or grasping anything but that it was dark, black dark; and then he felt, with a strange sense of agony, that all his trouble was returning, for the trumpeting roar thundered through his brain, and he lay perfectly still as the deep sound ceased, ending with a peculiar kind of snort and a squeal, feeling that there was no pain, and beginning to wonder why.

Time pa.s.sed again--how long a time it was beyond him to grasp--but there was that peculiar trumpeting roar once more, and somehow it did not trouble him so much. The fancy that he was in the Lion House had faded away, and he became conscious of the Doctor pa.s.sing his arm under his neck and raising him, while the wooden cup was being held to his lips-- cool, sweet, delicious--it was one great joy to feel the soft draught running over his parched tongue and down his throat.

Then he started, and he felt some of the contents of the cup trickle down his chin, for there was a shrill trumpeting noise again as the desire to exert himself came, and he exclaimed:

"What's that?"

It was only in a whisper, but the Doctor--no, it was not the Doctor; it was some one whose voice he knew--said excitedly:

"Helephants." And then, "I say, Mister Archie, sir, you're a-coming round!"

That was too much for him. He wanted to ask what it meant--why it was Peter Pegg who had been holding up his head, and not the Doctor--but he could not form the words for the deep, heavy sleepiness which came over him; and then all was darkness once more, mental and real.

Long enough after, Archie Maine found himself thinking again, and wondering where he was and why it was so dark; but he could make out nothing, till he gradually began to feel about him, slowly, cautiously, as if in dread of something about to happen, for the sensation was horrible of being nowhere and in danger of falling should he move. Then there was a sudden feeling of consciousness, for he touched a hot hand, and a familiar voice said:

"'Wake, sir? Like a drink?"

"Yes. That you, Pete?"

"Me it is, sir. Lie still, and I will give you a cocoa-nut-sh.e.l.lful of water, and--and--Oh my! Oh my! Oh Lor'! I can't help it!"

And Archie lay thinking clearly enough now, and wondering why it was that the big fellow who had spoken crouched close by him quivering, and the hand that had grasped his roughly was shaking violently, as he lay there blubbering and sobbing with all his might.

"What's the matter?" whispered Archie, in the midst of his wonder.

"Oh, it's only me, sir," cried the lad in a choking voice. "I couldn't help it. It would ha' been just the same if I'd been on parade. It would come. It's been ready to bust out all this time. I thought you was going to die, sir--I thought you was going to die!"

"Die, Pete! No! What for?"

"Don't you know, sir?"

"No-o," said Archie wonderingly.

"Here, stop a minute; let me give you some water."

And in the darkness Archie lay listening to the pleasant, musical, trickling sound of falling water; while directly after, as he felt the private's hand pa.s.sed under his neck, he made an effort to rise, and fell a-wondering again, for he could not stir.

But the next minute there was a fancied feeling of returning strength as he swallowed the cool draught with avidity, drinking till the desire came upon him to sink back with a deep sigh of content, and he felt his companion's arm withdrawn.

"Go to sleep after that, can't you?" whispered the private.

"No; I want to know what it all means."

"Hadn't you better go to sleep, sir?"

"No!" cried Archie, in a voice so full of the agony of desire that Peter spoke out excitedly:

"Well, we are prisoners, sir."

"Prisoners! How? Why?"

"I d'know, sir."

"You don't know!" panted Archie feebly. "Oh, you are trying to keep it back!"

"That I ain't, sir. I'll tell you what I do know. Somebody's took us prisoners--some of them Malay chaps. I think it must be that Rajah Hamet's men, as they says are our enemies."

"No, no; he's our friend."

"Then it must be t'other one, sir. You remember when you come by in the boat that moonlight night?"

"Boat! What moonlight night?"

"Oh, Lor' ha' mussy!" muttered Peter. "He can't be fit to talk."

"What's that you are saying to yourself? Why don't you speak?"

"Don't you remember hailing me, sir, when I was on sentry-go?"

"No."