“Not one moved, and all was still. Suddenly the Admiral raised his head, and
gazed out and down at his followers. Then he spoke, and the sound of his voice
reached far out to the most distant prau that lay becalmed within the shadow of
casuarina-shaded Puli.
“‘Allah il Allah, I have sinned, and I must die. No more shall my name be known
in the land. I am no longer laksamana; neither am I a dato. Allah is just. Tuan
Allah Suka!’
“A foreigner smote him in the mouth, and a great cry arose from without the
walls.
“The war went on; but day after day did the Governor send a message to the
Laksamana in the dungeon. ‘Reveal the spot where thy gold is hidden, and thy
life and liberty are granted.’
“Day by day the Dato replied, ‘My life is a pollution in the nostrils of Allah.
Take it.’
“So they laid the great chief on the stones of his cell, bound hand and foot, and
one by one did they break the joints of his toes, his fingers, and then the joints of
his legs and arms. When they had finished, and he still lived, the woman came to
him and mocked him, but the Admiral closed his eyes and prayed. ‘O Allah, the
all-merciful and the loving kind, forgive me for my erring heart. Thou knowest
that it goes out to this woman still. Let not my country suffer for my deeds. I
gave unto thy servant Solomon of the gold that has made us great. If thou canst,
thou wilt whisper the secret of our nation to one of thy chosen people, that they
may have means whereby to fight thy battles.’
“And then the woman raised her hand, and with one stroke of the axe an
attendant severed from his body the head of the once mighty Laksamana of the
fleets of Johore, Acheen and Maur.
“So died the secret of Ophir. So fell Malacca forever into the hands of the
foreigner.”
The Tuan Hakim’s voice trembled as he closed. During the tragic recital he had
dropped into the soft, melodious chant of his nation. At times he would lapse