The Rajah of Dah

"Ahoy, there! All on board?" "Yes; all right." "Got all your tackle?" "I think so." "Haven't forgotten your cartridges!" "No; here they are." "I'll be bound to say you've forgotten something. Yes: fishing-tackle?" "That we haven't, Mr Wilson," said a fresh voice, that of a bright-looking lad of sixteen, as he rose up in the long boat lying by the bamboo-made wharf at Dindong, the little trading port at the mouth of the Salan River, on the west coast of the Malay Peninsula.