Raja

By Steve Gill

Can a descendant atone for the misdeeds that built his family’s fortune? When James Ascot uncovers the brutal truth behind the Ascot dynasty’s rule as the ‘White Rajas’ in the distant land of Gonjong, he is ashamed by his ancestors’ treacherous legacy. But when an ecological catastrophe sparks a raging jungle fire, James sees a chance to make amends. With the help of an unassuming local boatman, James confronts the dangers and sins of the past with courageous valour – a universally cherished quality, no matter one’s lineage. Through their heroic efforts, the stains of violence and betrayal perpetrated by James’s forebears may finally be cleansed, righting historic wrongs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Apr 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035854820

Book preview

About the Author

Steve Gill is a restless soul whose zest for life and new challenges has taken him around the world as an English Language teacher. Steve has inflicted his unique form of pedagogy on unsuspecting innocents from Bahamas to Brunei, Singapore to Saudi Arabia… and six other nations all affiliated with Interpol. Steve remains as elusive as ever, teaching by day and writing by night, happy in the knowledge that perpetual motion keeps him free. His credo: ‘Never Get Fat & Never Lose Your Accent!’ And if you can, be kind.

Dedication

For Lauren, Michael, Mark, and Joel.

Copyright Information ©

Steve Gill 2024

The right of Steve Gill to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035854813 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035854820 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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London

E14 5AA

Chapter 1

All Aboard

‘All aboard, ladies and gentlemen. Mind your step on the way down.’ The ferryman’s voice was strong and confident; as usual he was smiling as he helped his passengers into the small boat. He gently took the hand of schoolgirl. ‘Nobody’s ever fallen into the Sungai Gonjong from my tambang,’ he said to her. He paused for a few seconds and then added with a wink,… ‘yet!’ He pretended to lose his balance and the boat rocked a little. The schoolgirl laughed and the ferryman was happy. Making people laugh was his favourite hobby.

A couple of minutes later all the passengers were seated; sixteen people of all ages, shapes and sizes squashed together like sardines in a tin. The wooden bench seats were very uncomfortable but nobody ever complained. The ferry was cheap and it was only a five minute journey straight across to the other side of the river. The ferryman looked at a handsome man in a smart business suit. With a look of panic on his face the ferryman leant across to him and asked, ‘Excuse me, do you know the way?’ Everyone on the boat began to laugh. Every day was a gift from God for the tambang’s cheeky captain. He pushed the boat away from the jetty with one of the oars. It was half past seven in the morning; this would be his tenth crossing since he started work at dawn.

‘Wait! Wait! Stop the boat! Don’t leave me or I’ll be late!’ A rather heavily built middle-aged woman was now running as fast as she could along the jetty. The ferryman stopped the boat but did not move it any closer to the woman.

‘I’m sorry, Princess, but today you really have missed the boat,’ he shouted. ‘The boat is full. If somebody your size got on then…’

‘Don’t make any of your funny jokes about me,’ the woman screamed back. ‘Now make room for me on that boat. If you don’t, I’ll jump on to it from the jetty… then we’ll see how well-built that bathtub of yours really is.’

Immediately the captain shouted his reply. ‘There’s plenty of room at the front, Princess. I’m coming …’ The boat turned back towards the jetty and the ferryman apologised to his passengers in a softer voice. ’I’ll have to go back for her, I’ve got no choice. Every time she’s late she makes the same threat … and she’s not as slim as she used to be. The last ferry she jumped on was the Titanic.’

The woman sat at the front of the boat, only inches from where the ferryman stood. The two long oars crossed in his hands and he powered the small vessel by pushing backwards and forwards. His muscular arms worked like a pair of scissors. The boat travelled at a slow and steady speed. With his back as straight as possible, the ferryman looked straight ahead. The sparkling white walls of Harimau’s beautiful Istana made him blink. The ferryman never grew tired of looking at the palace. He looked to his right and Fort Victoria came into view. Perhaps more than any other building in the town, the fort told the world of Harimau’s fascinating history. Built over a hundred years before, it looked out across the Gonjong river to protect Harimau from pirates and invading armies. Times had changed: the cannon had birds’ nests inside and the only invading armies were the thousands of tourists who visited every year.

No, the ferryman never grew tired of the view. He was a Harimauer and extremely proud of the fact.

Without turning to look at her, the ferryman shouted out, ‘Hey Princess. I hope you haven’t forgotten your twenty-five cents today.’

‘Don’t I always pay you when I cross the river in your boat?’ she replied.

‘I don’t know, I never check. I just pick up the coins from the hat into which honest people put their fare.’

‘Are you calling me dishonest?’

‘Of course not, dear lady, but I think this time I’ll watch who puts the money in the hat and who doesn’t.’

‘And what will the captain of the bathtub do if I haven’t got twenty-five cents to pay you with?’

’Well, let me see. This ferryboat of mine is really a taxi,

a taxi that rides on the waves. Now if you can’t pay the fare in a taxi the driver will just tell you to get out and walk!’ The passengers started to laugh again but softly so as not to embarrass the woman. ‘Now I know for a fact that you haven’t paid me a cent in over twenty years of travelling with me across the river.’ The ferryman stopped rowing and turned around. ‘Princess, I hope you know how to swim.’ The man next to the ‘princess’ quickly took a coin from his pocket and pushed it into the woman’s hand. He was a new face in Harimau and felt sorry for the woman. She thanked the man and threw the money in the hat.

‘Get a move on or I’ll be late for work,’ the woman shouted. ‘Who do you think cleans the Istana from top to bottom every day? The Governor? If you think you’ve got a back-breaking job, my man, why don’t you try working as a cleaner in the palace? I work twice as hard as you in a day … and for less money.’

While the ferryman and the ‘princess’ argued about whose job was more difficult, the newcomer leant back against the wooden planks of the tambang. He looked up at the corrugated iron roof; a piece of rust fell off and landed on his clean trousers. He sighed but was happy the roof was there to keep off the hot sun. He looked out of the back of the boat towards Pangkalan Batu. Behind the jetty was Jalan Gambier. The old colonial buildings and the busy markets had changed little since the days of Rajah Ascot, Harimau’s first ruler. The place had a special charm and the people seemed to have a special way of life. The handsome stranger knew that he would enjoy his stay in Harimau.

Even though the ferryman was still arguing with the woman the ferry crossing was peaceful and relaxing. The tambang had no engine and the sound of the water beneath the boat made the stranger feel warm inside. He usually only felt like this when he had his feet up in front of the fire at home in England. As he breathed in the morning air, the ferryman had turned to speak to the passengers.

‘Listen to her! She thinks that cleaning kitchens and bathrooms is harder work than this! I’m not complaining, but I work from dawn to dusk and I cross the river over two hundred times a week.’ He took his shirt off and showed his muscles to his audience. ‘If you work harder than me, Princess, then show me your muscles.’

The woman ignored his request and apologised for his behaviour. ‘Look at him, forty years of age and still trying to prove what a hero he is. I’ve seen stray cats in Harimau with bigger muscles than you.’

Without putting his shirt back on the ferryman took the oars again and got on with his job. Why did she have to tell them I was forty, he thought to himself. He was young at heart and had stopped counting his birthdays. Mightily he dug the oars into the water and the boat’s speed increased. He was proud of his work. He had helped his father build the tambang and the eldest son of the family had been a ferryman since the days of the first rajah. The river was the ferryman’s life; Sungai Gonjong would never run dry. His family had added too much sweat to it.

The boat was now in the middle of the river. Here the current was at its strongest. This was where the ferryman really earned his twenty-five cents; this was where all his muscle was needed. The sun was still rising behind him. As he leant over the front of the boat the first drops of sweat that morning fell into the river.

A strange buzzing noise interrupted the gentle music of the tambang’s oars. The ferryman looked up at the sky. As the noise grew louder he thought that it was a plane’s engines. The sky was cloudy and there was no sign of a plane. As he continued rowing, the engine noise continued. He turned his head to the right. Inside the boat a schoolgirl had also seen where the noise was coming from. She screamed in terror: a large white motor boat with two huge engines was heading up the river at top speed. The ferryboat lay