Ronnie began to assemble a small fleet, without fuss or public display. It was impossible to hide their intentions from the pirates, who where known to visit the island, or their Malay informants. But he did not expect them to be surprised or alarmed, since they were only doing what the Chinese merchants had done in previous years, save for the fact that this time they were doing it together.
Moreover, those hidden eyes did not know where they were going, or––more to the point–– did not know that they knew where they were going. Mr Oates had been kept in the back bedroom of Johnston’s godown, with a plentiful supply of roast beef, malt whisky and the novels of Sir Walter Scott. He did not mind being kept under wraps, although he was itching to lead them to the pirate lair.
Ronnie provided three ships of his own, armed with broadside cannon and swivel guns fore and aft, and equipped the crews with muskets, cutlasses, and axes. It cost him dearly, but he had no choice, and no disinclination either––he was as anxious as his wife to see their relations revenged. And he had an additional incentive. Oates had told him that Purser was frequently to be seen at the pirate stronghold, no doubt negotiating deals for arms and opium. Oates had, in fact, offered the man money to help him escape, but had been coldly denied. So he had a chance of killing more than one bird with a single stone.
The European merchants provided four ships, and the Chinese merchants, eager to inflict some real punishment on the men who had plagued their businesses for years, provided five others. The European merchants had been reluctant at first, but changed their minds when Ronnie told those he trusted that he knew the location of the pirates’ hideout, so that the expedition would not be a wild goose chase. As Ronnie watched the heavily armed crews being assembled on board the Chinese junks, he wondered aloud to Andrew Hay, one of the contributing European merchants, whether some of them might be tiger soldiers from the secret societies.
‘I suspect many of them are, but I don’t much care. It’s going to be the pirate throats they’re going to cut, not ours. Personally I would not care if Bonham armed the convicts and sent them out with the promise of a bounty on each pirate head––especially those murdering dacoits and thugees.’
‘Not a bad idea,’ said Ronnie, ‘but he’s never going to agree to it.’
Nevertheless, when Ronnie went to see the acting resident councillor, Mr Church, he agreed to let Captain Congalton accompany them on the Company schooner the Zephyr, along with a squad of marines, commanded by Lieutenant William James. Congalton had just returned from a fierce action against fifteen pirates prahus at Point Romania, and was preparing to return to Malacca, but Church was sure he would be ready and eager to leave at the drop of hat.
‘A right little Nelson is Captain Samuel Congalton,’ he said. ‘A small man, and not much to look at, but very direct and honest, and always ready for a scrap.’ Church also had some good news for Ronnie to convey to the other merchants. The Company had finally paid attention to their petitions, and had informed him that later in the year they would to send out HMS Wolf, a heavily armed sloop, to help clear the seas, along with the Company Steamer Diana.
‘But I’m afraid this is all going to come at a price,’ Church advised him, with a sigh that anticipated the likely reception of this news. ‘The Company is planning to impose a new port tax to pay for it.’
‘That winna go down well,’ Ronnie replied. ‘But between you and me, I’d pay the de’il to help me hunt down thae murdering bastards.’
* * *
Musa met Abdullah in the clearing at the edge of the jungle which had been set up for the cockfight.
A ring had been created from planks and rattan, and the lallang grass had been cut away to form a sandy arena. A large crowd gathered in the clearing as the sun began to set behind the high trees, and coconut lamps were lit around the edges of the clearing. There were local and Malaccan Malays, Bugis and Javanese, and sailors from the ships in the harbour, who were always eager for a sporting opportunity. Musa spotted Abdullah in the crowd and went forward and gently touched him on the shoulder.
‘I have come as arranged. I thank you for keeping your part of the bargain.’
‘Easily done,’ said Abdullah, turning to face him. ‘I hope you will keep yours. I will wager a fair price for your black prahu, and you will wager the prahu. Since you have got what you wanted, I hope you will do me the courtesy of letting me choose my bird.’
‘If you so wish,’ replied Musa. ‘Yet I have been thinking it over. As you say, I have got what I wanted. My grand-uncle has visited with Rashidah’s parents, and they have consented to our marriage proposal. The date and the dowry have been set.’
Of course, thought Abdullah to himself. Nobody else would want that barren woman.
‘But in my happiness,’ Musa continued, ‘I have seen that my own passion for that prahu was a shameful thing, borne of pride. Now I am to marry Rashidah, my only true love, God be praised, I see the pettiness of my own obsession with the boat. When all is said and done it is only a piece of wood.’
‘But not to me!’ Abdullah almost spat in reply. ‘What do you mean by this! Are you going back on your bargain!’
‘Of course not,’ Musa replied. ‘I only meant to say that if you still want to buy the prahu, I will happily sell it to you for a fair price. I can always build another, perhaps not so true and fair, but one that will serve its purpose well enough.’
‘Bah!’ Abdullah exclaimed, giving Musa a look of high disdain. ‘Do you want to deny me the pleasure of winning it for myself in a fair contest? Or are you afraid of the shame you will suffer if you lose?’
‘Neither,’ said Musa, looking surprised. ‘I was hoping you would be pleased that I am willing to sell it to you. And you may lose yourself, you know.’
‘Oh no, you will not deny me the pleasure of winning so easily!’ Abdullah replied. ‘Are you still willing to let me choose my bird?’
‘If that is what you wish,’ said Musa, tiring of the exchange. ‘I will sell it to you for two hundred dollars, or you can wager that amount, whatever you wish.’
‘You insult me with your offer and your wager!’ Abdullah retorted. ‘I will wager one thousand dollars for the boat, so you must wager the same, your prahu and eight hundred dollars more.’
‘That is not what I said,’ said Musa softly, but realized he had been trapped. He could not put the value of the prahu any higher than what he had already committed to, and he was too proud to refuse the bet, even though he knew he would find it difficult to pay the dowry for Rashidah if he lost.
‘So be it,’ Musa replied, ‘please choose your bird, Abdullah.’
They stepped forward to view the two birds that were being displayed for the next fight. Both were black gamecocks with their combs and wattles cut. One of the birds, slightly larger and stouter than the other, had a bright red head plumage; the other, smaller and scraggier, had an orange plumage with white-tipped feathers. The larger bird was scarred in places, and had bald patches in its coat: it was obviously a survivor of previous fights.
To Musa’s surprise Abdullah chose the smaller bird. Then they committed their bets, along with the others. By now the darkness had fallen all around, and the coconut lamps cast a ghostly flickering light over the ring, as the breeders brought their cocks forward, and held them facing each other. Each bird had steel spurs tied to its legs with leather straps, like ancient gladiators at martial games. The crowd was hushed, eagerly anticipating the beginning of the match.
The umpire placed a coconut with a pierced hole in a bucket of water; when it sunk the first round would be completed.
Immediately they were released, the cocks flew at each other in a wild mass of clawing spurs and tearing feathers. For the first three rounds the birds were evenly matched—both were blooded, but neither gained an advantage.
However, by the fourth round, the larger bird seemed to tire quickly. Abdullah smiled quietly to himself. He had paid the trainer to poison the red-plumed cock, and had privately arranged to place an additional bet on the smaller orange-plumed bird. In a sudden movement the orange-plumed bird tore out the left eye of the red-plumed bird, and just as the coconut was about to sink, plunged one its steel spurs into the right lung of its failing rival. During the short interval, as the trainers tended to their wounded birds, Musa watched with dismay as his bird gasped for air, its blood bubbling from the wound, and prayed to God that it might survive at least until the fifth round.
The umpire replaced the drained coconut in the bucket, signaling the beginning of the fifth round. Musa’s bird staggered forward, close to death, the poison burning in its stomach, its breath gasping and bubbling from its punctured lung. The bird’s left eye dangled from its empty socket, and swung around its head like some obscene decoration. Abdullah’s bird leapt in for the kill, and Musa despaired. But the poison burning in the older bird’s stomach drove it to a killing madness, as it peered out through the bloody haze of its one remaining eye, and summoning its last reserve of strength, it leapt into the air and drove its spurs down into the chest of its tormentor. The force of the attack drove the other bird onto its back, and the old warrior stood triumphant for a few seconds, its head held high in the air and its spurs embedded in its opponent’s chest. Then it toppled over and died, its dangling eye now buried and sightless in the bloody sand. But its right spur had pierced the heart of the smaller bird, which did not rise again. The umpire declared that Musa’s bird was the winner, and those who had bet upon it roared their approval.
Abdullah was beside himself with rage. He had lost Rashidah, the coveted prahu, and now one thousand dollars, not to mention his side bet and the money he had paid the trainer to poison the victorious bird. But he graciously acknowledged his loss before the company, and agreed to pay Musa the amount he now owed him. Both men left after the first match. As he returned home, Musa thanked God for his benevolence, and thought about the gifts he could now purchase for Rashidah and her family, and what a splendid wedding feast he could now provide!
As he returned home, Abdullah’s thoughts were much darker, as he cursed Musa, the cock trainer and his ill fortune. He would find a way to make Musa pay, and deny him the fruits of his victories. Just when he thought his happiness was complete, Musa would taste the cold steel of the assassin’s knife, and know before he died who had denied him his happiness on earth.
Musa and Rashidah were married shortly afterwards, and within the year Rashidah gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, which they called E’jaaz, meaning ‘miracle’. They and their families were overjoyed, but Abdullah was beside himself with jealousy and anger. How could God bless Musa with a son by a wife who had borne him no children, he thought to himself, never for a moment thinking that the fault could be his own. He decided that now was the time to take his revenge, and he would have done so right way had he not been summoned by Daing Ibrahim, the son of the late temenggong, who sent him on a secret mission to Sumatra.