Owen clambered with difficulty into the rigging, till he reached a spot where his figure stood sharply silhouetted against the moon behind. And there he waved his arms, while he hailed at the top of his voice. And evidently those aboard the Indiaman were not slow to discover their mistake. Another cheer rose from her deck, and a stout figure leapt on to the rail, and ascending a few rungs of the ladder hailed back in stentorian tones. Then came the splash of a boat, and within five minutes the ship's gig was pulling towards them. "It will be touch and go yet," said Owen. "We'd better get aboard the skiff. These poor fellows here must take their chance. Give me a hand, Mulha." A few minutes before he had been able to clamber into the rigging with wonderful agility, considering his wound; but now that the danger was passed, and help and friends were at hand, Owen collapsed utterly. He held out his hand to Mulha, and then fell on his face on the deck. And in this unconscious condition he was lifted aboard the skiff, which was half full of water, and from her was transferred to the gig. A quarter of an hour later the Indiaman was standing out of the bay, while her deck hands were hoisting the gig back to the davits. Owen lay pale and motionless in the sick-bay, while Jack was closeted with the captain. As for the native craft, she had sunk beneath the water, the five wounded pirates who had been upon her being barely rescued by the gig. It was a tragic ending to a day's hunting, but it provided the garrulous Jack Simpson with a theme, and at that moment he was breathlessly detailing all that had happened. And had there been any doubt as to the truth of their meeting with the rhinos, there was the head of the beast, and a portion of a deer, now brought aboard, indisputable evidence of their prowess. CHAPTER VIII The City of Palaces Three uneventful weeks passed after Owen and his two companions made their escape from Sumatra and rejoined the ship ere the pilot boat, cruising off the sand-heads of Saugar, was sighted. And during those days the two friends had been the heroes of the ship. Not that Owen could enjoy much of the congratulation which was due to him, for the wound he had received kept him in the sick-berth for a week. It was a nasty flesh wound, and to add to the trouble the bullet had remained in the limb. "A fellow who can stand his ground and shoot a rhino will laugh at this little task," said the surgeon who was aboard, when he came into the bay on the following morning, a servant carrying a large case of instruments for him. "There's a bullet still in that thigh, and as I imagine you are not very anxious to keep it there, I will remove it. Now the water, some clean basins, and--ah, here are the things."