point—always at the same place—off the coast of Sumatra. Huge granite pillars tower to the sky at nearly regular intervals, beginning at the outlet of one of the valleys, and extending five miles out to sea. So solid and massive is the aspect of the apparent structure that the eye refuses to accept its unreality; binoculars are involuntarily seized, questions are poured into the ear of the captain; or, if no ship’s officer be near, such guidebooks or sailing directions as may be within reach are consulted for a solution of the splendid sight. But, before the pages can be turned the gigantic columns begin to waver and vibrate in the intensely heated air: now they come nearer, and the sun glances upon their crystalline sides, anon they retreat and fade, until the whole fabric is transformed into, or lost in, a luxuriant expanse partly covered with enormous trees. It is probably while the feeling of disappointment is rankling in his mind, and the traveller averts his gaze from Sumatra as altogether a delusion and a snare, that he obtains his first glimpse of the opposite shore to the left hand, and sees the romantic island of Java appearing simultaneously from the waves and from the clouds. As he looks at the vast panorama of jagged peaks—some of them, perhaps, emitting a thin, scarcely-visible thread of vapour, his train of thought may wander to the thrilling fireside tale of how the despairing Dutch criminals used to rush, inclosed in leathern hoods, across the “Poison Valley,” to gather the deadly drippings from the terrible Upas-tree.

But none of these thoughts occurred to those on board the Hankow Lin as she neared the straits and the group of islands; for, in the first place, the terrible earthquake of Krakatoa which has so convulsed the face of nature in the vicinity, had not then occurred, and, secondly, instead of the fabled Upas-tree being uppermost in their minds, all were thinking, with a far keener apprehension, of the much more deadly “pirates of the isles,” who were reported to haunt the channel-way and rendezvous in the neighbourhood, just keeping out of the reach of the men-of-war cruising in search of them, so as to pounce on unwary merchantmen whenever they had the chance.

Towards sunset on the same day that the captain had remarked on their being close to the Thousand Islands, the nor’-east monsoon, which had accompanied the vessel so far, suddenly failed, and the wind shifted to the southward and westward. A strange sail was sighted—not ahead, but coming up astern, and gaining on them fast as if in pursuit, although the light failed before they could distinctly make her out.

The captain had a conference on the poop; and after dark, as the breeze came stronger from the south, the ship’s course was altered, she running off at right angles to her former direction, as if bearing up for Singapore, while a strict watch was kept all night on deck.

Morning broke at last, after some eight hours of anxiety, and Bill the boatswain, on the forecastle, took a keen look round the horizon with the first appearance of the dawning light, as Captain Morton was doing on the poop.

Gradually the haze cleared up from the water in widening circles, and as the sun rose and the horizon cleared still further off, there, some five miles astern, and going quite as fast as themselves, if not faster, was the stranger; and now when she could be clearly made out, she did not improve on acquaintance.

She was a lateen-rigged schooner, with a long, low, dark hull, almost flush with the water, and a wicked look about her which could hardly be mistaken.

The captain hailed the boatswain, and summoned him to the poop, where they were joined by the first mate and “Mr Meredith,” who, strange to say, seemed quite as accustomed to early hours as the officers of the ship.

“It is she, without doubt,” said the captain. “I could almost swear to the description. Where are those Malays?”

“Down below, sir; leastways, they was just now.”

“Well, keep a sharp look-out; and as it seems that it will come to a scrimmage you had better tell the men forward, and I will warn those here quietly. I suppose you have got the revolvers all right?” continued the captain, as “Mr Meredith” left the deck quietly.

“Oh, yes, sir; mine’s here,” said the boatswain, tapping the bosom of his guernsey, “all ready for action; and I’ll soon serve out the others.”

“Very good; only be cool, Martens, till the time arrives, for we may be mistaken after all in the men. I can’t tell why we are not going faster, though, with this breeze and all that sail set. What! only three knots!” said he, as the boatswain hove the log and told him the result. “Something must be wrong, Martens; go forward and see at once.”

And the long, low, dark-hulled schooner was coming up hand over hand, walking almost up into the wind’s eye on the weather-gauge, coming on as if the Hankow Lin was at anchor or becalmed.

As Bill the boatswain passed forward he saw the Malays were gathered together in a cluster by the side, amidships, looking at the vessel coming up, and the serang had a peculiar, satisfied, malicious sort of smile on his evil countenance.

“Guess they’re getting ready too,” said Bill to himself. “I’ll give Snowball a hail, and rouse up the others.”

Snowball, however, was bustling about in his galley, and in response to a word from the boatswain he grinned one of his usual broad grins, and tapped the long knife in his belt, that looked almost as deadly a weapon as one of the Malay creases.

“Golly, Massa Bill, me quite ready for the muss when him come! dat for de yaller nigger dat call me black-man; and dese, massa,” he said, pointing to the ship’s coppers, which were full of boiling water, as he had lighted the fires again at daybreak, “dere, is de soup for de yaller nigger’s gang!”

The other hands were just turning out as Bill reached the forecastle, and Jem Backstay and the rest were soon made aware of their danger from within as well as without; but, before the boatswain could explain himself properly or give any orders he was startled at seeing that some one had cut the jib halliards, and the sail had come down by the run, and was towing in the water right across the ship’s bows.

“Treachery, shipmates!” he called out. “No wonder the poor crippled thing couldn’t make more’n three knots with that ’ere sail towing under her fore-foot. Those blessed Lascars did this, I suppose!”

He was in the midst of his exclamation when the lateen-rigged schooner, as if disdaining further concealment, hoisted the dread black pirate flag; and the serang, in response to the signal, gave a shrill whistle, at the same time drawing his crease.

With a yell of defiance he and his Lascar gang rushed aft in a body for the poop, where the captain and his officers were standing together, while the forecastle hands stood for the moment dumbfounded at the suddenness of the attack.

Only for a moment, however; for, almost at the same instant, Snowball, uttering a shout which might have been heard on board the pirate, now little over a mile off, dashed at the Malay chief, with his long knife gripped between his teeth and his arms working like windmills; and as he clutched the serang in his deadly grip the cabin-doors beneath the poop flew open, and the Lascar gang stopped their advance as if struck by lightning, uttering at the same time a howl of terror and dismay.