No one spoke, and Tŭngku Dâlam, cursing them roundly, sent for about forty
guns, and, leading the men himself, he passed out at the back of the palace to
Tŭngku Chik Pâya's house near the mosque, where To’ Kâya still sat upon the
low wall which surrounds that building. When he saw Tŭngku Dâlam, he hailed
him, saying:
'Welcome! Welcome! Thy servant has desired the long night through to fight
with one who is of noble birth. Come, therefore, and let us see which of us twain
is the more skilful with his weapons.'
At this, Mat, one of Tŭngku Dâlam's men, leaped forward and said, 'Suffer thy
servant to fight with him, it is not fitting, Tŭngku, that thou shouldst take part in
such a business.'
But Tŭngku Dâlam said: 'Have patience. He is a dead man. Why should we, who
are alive, risk death or hurt at his hands?' Then he ordered a volley to be fired,
but when the smoke had cleared away, To’ Kâya was still sitting unharmed on
the low wall of the mosque. A second volley was fired, with a like result, and
then To’ Kâya cast away the spear he still held in his hand, and cried out:
'Perchance this spear is a charm against bullets, try once more, and I pray thee
end this business, for it has taken over long in the settling.'
A third volley was then fired, and one bullet struck To’ Kâya, but did not break
the skin. He rubbed the place, and leaped up crying: 'Oh! but that hurts me, I will
repay thee!' and, as he rushed at them, the men fell back before him. With
difficulty Tŭngku Dâlam succeeded in rallying them, and, this time, a volley was
fired, one bullet of which took effect, passing in at one armpit and out at the
other. To’ Kâya staggered back to the wall, and sank upon it, rocking his body to
and fro. Then a final volley rang out, and a bullet passing through his head, he
fell forward upon his face. The cowardly crowd surged forward, but fell back
again in confusion, for the whisper spread among them that To’ Kâya was
feigning death in order to get at close quarters. At length a boy named Sâmat,
who was related to the deceased Ma’ Chik, summoned courage to run in and
transfix the body with his spear. Little cared the Dâto’ Kâya Bîji Dĕrja, however,
for his soul had 'past to where beyond these voices there is peace.'
He had killed his wife, Che’ Long, the Kĕlantan man Äbdul Rahman, Pa’ Pek,
Ma’ Pek, Tŭngku Long Pĕndêkar, Ma’ Chik, Haji Mih, and Sĕmäil; and had
wounded his baby child, his mother-in-law, Che’ Long's daughter Ësah, and
Saleh. This is a sufficiently big butcher's bill for a single man, and he had done