that I should get burned out also,—suffering, as the Malays says, like the
woodpecker in the falling tree,—a sudden and unexpected turn was given to
affairs, which speedily brought things to an abrupt conclusion.
During one of the pauses for breath, indulged in by the clamouring women,
Tŭngku Indut was heard to arise from his couch with great noise and
deliberation. A hushed silence immediately fell upon the assembled women, and,
in the stillness, Tŭngku Indut's words were distinctly heard by all of us.
'Âwang!' he said, naming one of his followers, 'Âwang! Bring me my sword!'
That was all, but it was enough and to spare. A shrill shriek was raised by the
listening women,—a shriek, this time, of fear and not of defiance,—and in a
moment the army of three hundred ladies was in full flight. Never was there such
a rout. They tumbled over, and trampled upon one another in their frantic desire
to escape, and maimed one another, as they fought their way up the narrow
roadway, in their panic. All respect for persons, rank, or position, was
completely lost sight of, commoners pushing past râjas in their deadly fear of
being the hindermost, who is the proverbial prey of the pursuing devil. Too
breathless to scream, and sweating with fear and exertion, they scuffled up the
street, to the sound of rending garments and pattering feet, nor did they rest until
the palace was regained, and the doors securely barred.
On the King's return, the dancing girls were, of course, surrendered; and I do not
like to think what was the measure of bodily pain and suffering, that these dainty
creatures were called upon to pay as the price of their escapade. It was a sore
subject with Tŭngku Indut, too, and he and his father were not on speaking
terms, on this account, for near a twelvemonth after.
As for Tŭngku Aminâh, she is as truculent as ever, and bears a great reputation
for courage among her fellow country-women. It is not every girl, they say, who
would so boldly have attacked; and of the retreat, which only a few of us
witnessed, no mention is ever made.
One has heard of the Women's Rights Meeting in Boston, which was broken up
in confusion by the untimely appearance of three little mice; and of that other
meeting, in which the aid of the Chairwoman's husband and brothers had to be
sought, in order to eject a solitary derisive man, who successfully defied the
assembled emancipated females to move him from his position; but neither of
these stories seems to me to illustrate the inherent feebleness of women, when
unaided by the ruder sex, quite as forcibly as does the pleasant story of Tŭngku