Calling Jamboo, his interpreter, Osborn desired him to ask the Malay what he
saw in the jungle. Judge his astonishment at the reply:
“He says he saw a spirit, sir.”
“Nonsense. Ask him how or where? It may be some Malay scouts.”
Again came the answer: that the man had distinctly seen an untoo, or spirit,
moving about among the trees close to the margin of the water; and that he had
been assiduously praying and expectorating, in order to prevent it from
approaching the gunboat, as it was evidently a very bad spirit, very dangerous,
and clothed in a long dress.
Sherard Osborn reprimanded his interpreter for repeating so ridiculous a fancy,
and ordered him to explain to the man that there were no such things as “spirits,”
and that if he had seen anything, it must have been an animal or a man. But he
was earnestly assured by Jamboo, the interpreter, that Malays frequently saw
untoos; that some were dangerous, and some harmless; and that as for the untoo
he had just seen, the captain would see it too, if he looked carefully.
Accordingly, the English captain sat down by the side of the Malay sailor, and
looked in the same direction. The gunboat lay at anchor about one hundred and
fifty yards from the jungle; the water flowed up to its very margin; among the
spreading roots of the mangrove trees lay small ridges of white shingle and
broken shells, which receded into darkness or shone out into distinct relief as the
moonlight fell upon them. When these white gleams became visible, Osborn
immediately pointed to them, and hinted that these were the Malay’s “spirit.”
“No, no!” he answered vehemently, and Jamboo added, “He says he will warn
you immediately he sees it.”
Suddenly he touched his officer, and pointing earnestly, exclaimed, “Look,
look!”
Sherard Osborn did look, and for a moment yielded to the delusion as he caught
sight of what appeared to be, and probably was, the figure of a female with
drapery thrown around her. Gliding out of the dark forest shadows, it halted at a
hillock of white sand not more than three hundred yards distant. Osborn rubbed
his eyes; the interpreter called vigorously on a Romish saint, and the Malay spat
energetically, as if some unclean animal had crossed his path. Again the captain
looked, and again he saw the form, which had passed a dense clump of trees, and