His fears were only too well founded.  The Mussulman salaamed respectfully and said—­

“Protector of the poor, I cannot gainsay your word, but Taung S’Ali says that the maid stands by your side, and is none the less the woman he seeks in that she wears a man’s clothing.”

“He has sharp eyes, but his brain is addled,” retorted the sailor.  “Why does he come here to seek a woman who is not of his race?  Not only has he brought death to his people and narrowly escaped it himself, but he must know that any violence offered to us will mean the extermination of his whole tribe by an English warship.  Tell him to take away his boats and never visit this isle again.  Perhaps I will then forget his treacherous attempt to murder us whilst we slept last night.”

The chief glared back defiantly, whilst the Mahommedan said—­

“Sahib, it is beet not to anger him too much.  He says he means to have the girl.  He saw her beauty that day and she inflamed his heart.  She has cost him many lives, but she is worth a Sultan’s ransom.  He cares not for warships.  They cannot reach his village in the hills.  By the tomb of Nizam-ud-din, sahib, he will not harm you if you give her up, but if you refuse he will kill you both.  And what is one woman more or less in the world that she should cause strife and blood-letting?”

The sailor knew the Eastern character too well not to understand the man’s amazement that he should be so solicitous about the fate of one of the weaker sex.  It was seemingly useless to offer terms, yet the native was clearly so anxious for an amicable settlement that he caught at a straw.

“You come from Delhi?” he asked.

“Honored one, you have great wisdom.”

“None but a Delhi man swears by the tomb on the road to the Kutub.  You have escaped from the Andamans?”

“Sahib, I did but slay a man in self-defence.”

“Whatever the cause, you can never again see India.  Nevertheless, you would give many years of your life to mix once more with the bazaar-folk in the Chandni Chowk, and sit at night on a charpoy near the Lahore Gate?”

The brown skin assumed a sallow tinge.

“That is good speaking,” he gurgled.

“Then help me and my friend to escape.  Compel your chief to leave the island.  Kill him!  Plot against him!  I will promise you freedom and plenty of rupees.  Do this, and I swear to you I will come in a ship and take you away.  The miss-sahib’s father is powerful.  He has great influence with the Sirkar."[Footnote:  The Government of India.]

Taung S’Ali was evidently bewildered and annoyed by this passionate appeal which he did not understand.  He demanded an explanation, and the ready-witted native was obliged to invent some plausible excuse.  Yet when he raised his face to Jenks there was the look of a hunted animal in his eyes.

“Sahib,” he said, endeavoring to conceal his agitation.  “I am one among many.  A word from me and they would cut my throat.  If I were with you there on the rock I would die with you, for I was in the Kumaon Rissala[Footnote:  A native cavalry regiment.] when the trouble befell me.  It is of no avail to bargain with a tiger, sahib.  I suppose you will not give up the miss-sahib.  Pretend to argue with me.  I will help in any way possible.”