IX. NJONJA MAHAL--THE THREE FRIENDS
When Lim Yang Bing informed his son of the arrest of his accuser Pak Ardjan, and communicated to him some of the details of the capture, Lim Ho chuckled with delight. "That's one good riddance, at all events," quoth he, to himself. "Now, with a very little management on our part, that fellow will be found guilty and sent to the devil long before his son's smuggling case can come on at all. The most dangerous witness will then be out of the way."
Then, for a while, Lim Ho seemed lost in thought. He had made the njonja of the Resident a very handsome and valuable present of jewellery, in return for which he had got nothing but a mere empty promise that she would see what she could do for him in the way of inducing the girl to listen to his proposals. "Indeed! njonja mahal, an expensive lady," he muttered. "By Kong, what will be her price if I should need her active help in the case of the girl's refusal? Mercy on me! that will cost a pretty penny."
But Pak Ardjan's arrest gave another direction to his thoughts.
"No, the girl is not to be won, of that I am certain, she hates me too much to consent. But that is precisely the thing which makes her so attractive to me. She is an elegant, pretty girl! That's true enough, but there are many other good-looking maidens in the dessas--That's tame, I know all about them. No, no, to make the rebellious hussy bend to my will; to cover her, who detests me, with my kisses; to have her, who despises me, in my arms; and then--yes, then, when I am tired of her, and she is soiled and faded body and soul--then to be able to trample upon her, and fling her from me. That, look you, is the highly flavoured dish which, in my pursuit of her, I intend to enjoy. And, by Kong, I shall have my way, too. How? that I don't know, just yet. By force or by cunning? that matters little--if needs be, by both!"
Thus he muttered to himself as, in his father's house, he lay stretched out on a most luxurious divan, with his long Chinese pipe in his mouth, in which he was smoking the most fragrant tobacco the Celestial empire produces.
"By cunning?" he continued, after a few puffs at his pipe, "by cunning? Now, what is the most serious obstacle? The girl's will, no doubt;--well, I shall know how to get over that, if I get the chance, that will have, I daresay, to be a matter of violence after all. Now what else is there? The njonja!--The baboe is in her service; but I think she will help me, especially if--" Here the wretch moved his hand in the manner so peculiar to the Chinese, when they count money, putting down at each gesture a little pile of coins, which always contains the exact number required, never one piece more or less. "Now, is there any one else in my way? Yes, there is Ardjan, who wants to marry her; but he is pretty well accounted for, he is safe enough in jail, and won't very easily get out of the mess he is in, as he is charged with having smuggled a couple of pikols of opium. Long before he has been condemned, and has served his time, the deed must be done. Yes, long before that Dalima must have been mine! What, then--why, then? I sha'n't give either of them another thought, then the question will be, what pretty one will next take my fancy,--from Ardjan, I have nothing to fear, even if he does escape punishment, the company will know how to deal with him. There is only one man left against whom I must be on my guard, that is Setrosmito, Dalima's father. Oh, that cursed Javanese, he threatened me with his kris, did he? When I offered him five hundred rix-dollars for his daughter! Oh, I will pay him out for that. But how?--A thought strikes me--That arrest of Pak Ardjan seems to have been the easiest matter in the world. If Setrosmito could be made to fall into the same trap--if we could secure him--were it but for a few weeks!"
Springing up from his couch, Lim Ho ran to a small gong which stood by a pillar, supported on a very elegant foot of china, and with a small stick, which was carved in the shape of a crocodile's head, the emblem of Ngoh, the water-god, he struck two sharp blows upon the clear-toned metal.
A gaudily dressed Javanese servant immediately made his appearance, walked up to the divan, and, squatting down before it, placed his hands to his forehead, and obsequiously made his "sembah."
"Do you think, Drono," asked Lim Ho, "that Singomengolo is still at Santjoemeh?"
"I saw him only this morning, babah," replied Drono, as he repeated his sembah.
"Then run and fetch him at once," said his master. "You will find him, I have no doubt, somewhere about the opium-store. Tell him I want to speak to him. Make haste!"
"Sajah babah," said the man, as he glided back a few paces, then rose, and with his face still turned to his master, made his way out of the room.
"Yes," continued Lim Ho to himself, pursuing the thoughts which the entrance of the servant had interrupted. "Yes, if it were but for a few weeks, in that time, I have no doubt, I could find some means of enticing little Dalima. The njonja Resident might be most useful to me in this. But it will cost money! No matter, there is no lack of that!"
He rose again and struck the gong, and another Javanese servant presented himself.
"Has Drono gone yet?" asked Lim Ho.
"Not yet, babah," was the man's reply, "but he is just about to start."
"Very well, then run and call him back," ordered Lim Ho.
A moment later Lim Ho's confidential servant again stood before him.
"Before you go to look for Singo," said the master, "you must go to the house of M`Bok Kârijâh, and you must tell her that I want to see her here as soon as possible."
"Saja-babah," said Drono, as again he made the sembah.
"Yes," cried Lim Ho, impatiently, "but be off at once. Saja-babah."
The next day, M`Bok Kârijâh entered the Residence, and asked to see the njonja besar, or great lady. She was admitted at once, for it was morning, and Laurentia had just finished attending to her household duties, and had given out all that was needful to the cook. She was at that moment engaged in changing her morning kabaai for another one, made of fine lawn trimmed with lace. Indeed, the lady's doors were never closed to the old quack, and she would always receive her, at any hour of the day, if she could possibly do so.
"Good morning, njoonjaa," said the old woman, in that drawling tone so peculiar to the obsequious Javanese, while she squatted down at the European lady's feet.
"Tabeh nènèh," replied Laurentia.
"Did the obat have the desired effect?" began the old hag.
"Oh yes," replied Laurentia; "it worked admirably, you must let me have a good supply of it."
"That is what I intended to do, njonja, but the ingredients, you know, are so difficult to get, they are so expensive."
Laurentia took a small purse from her work-basket, and put a couple of rix-dollars into the old woman's hand.
"There," said she, "take that to buy them, and mind you let me have some soon."
The crone took the money, and tied it up in the corner of a dirty handkerchief, from which a bunch of keys was dangling, and, with a cunning leer, she assured the lady that she would have no reason to complain.
Then she began to talk about master Leo, and to tell Laurentia what a dear, clever little chap he was, and how everyone in the street turned back to look at the little fellow as he passed. No doubt, now and then, an eye might be cast on the baboe also who had charge of him; for, there could be no question about it, the baboe was exceedingly pretty. Really, the njonja ought not to allow such a girl to go about so freely; she was too good-looking, and there are always people wicked enough to take advantage of innocence. The njonja knew that well enough, and it would be such a pity if the poor girl should get into bad hands. There was so much money to be made out of her. So the old hag rattled on; and so, in a disjointed way, and by degrees, she told Laurentia that Lim Ho's passion for Dalima was daily increasing in violence, and that every day he was prepared to make greater sacrifices to gain possession of her. Then Laurentia's greedy eye began to glisten, and cunning old M`Bok was clever enough to see that she might safely venture.
Bending forward, but still keeping her watchful eye fixed on Laurentia's face, she went on for some time speaking in whispers, and seemed to be arousing the lady's keenest attention; for evidently Laurentia did not lose a word, and frequently nodded in token of assent. When the nènèh had finished speaking, Mrs. van Gulpendam did not at once reply, but, for awhile, seemed lost in meditation. At length she said:
"Boleh; tapeh--mentega sama ikan."
At the first word, "Boleh," which signifies "it is possible, it might be done," the dull eye of the old hag brightened; but, at the remainder of the sentence, she looked up with genuine surprise.
Yes, the purely idiomatic Dutch expression, though rendered most correctly in Malay, was beyond her.
"Mentega sama ikan?" she asked, in a strangely puzzled tone of voice.
"To be sure," repeated Laurentia, in Malay. "Sauce with the fish. Don't you understand me, nènèh? Cash down, I mean, M`Bok, cash down! I am not going to be taken in by empty promises."
"Alas!" sighed the old woman, who now saw clearly enough what was meant by "Sauce with the fish." She drew a little box out of the folds of the sash which confined the sarong around her scraggy hips, and offered it to the njonja. It contained a pair of valuable golden ear-rings of Chinese workmanship, richly set with diamonds.
"Is that all?" asked Mrs. van Gulpendam, with a contemptuous smile.
"They are very valuable," muttered the old hag.
But the Resident's wife slowly shook her head.
"Lim Ho asked me," continued M`Bok, "to tell you that he intends to come and personally express his gratitude to you as soon as the affair has succeeded."
Laurentia laughed, "When the affair has succeeded," she repeated, scornfully. "A pretty story, indeed! No, I don't intend to see the babah at all."
"But, njonja--"
"That will do," said Laurentia; "not another word about it. Come," continued she, "you may take those things away with you again."
"But what then am I to tell Lim Ho?" asked the nènèh.
"You may tell him just whatever you like, nèh."
"But, njonja--"
"Now, M`Bok," said Laurentia, resolutely, "not another word on that subject. Don't forget to bring me a good supply of the obat."
"Has the njonja no other orders for me?"
"None at present," was the answer.
"I only wished to tell you that I have another little lot of jewellery at home," insisted the old hag; "ear-rings, rings--!"
"No, no, nèh," said Laurentia, interrupting her; "but if you should happen to know of some bracelets."
"Bracelets, njonja? of what kind?"
"Golden ones, of course," replied Mrs. van Gulpendam. "A little while ago I saw some that I should very much like to have; the Chinese major's daughter was wearing them. They were beauties, serpents of old gold which went three or four times round the wrist and they had eyes of brilliants and in their mouth was a rose-coloured diamond as thick as that, look!" And the njonja at these words held up her little finger.
Old M`Bok Kârijâh devoured, so to speak, the words which she heard.
"If," continued the njonja, "you could find me such a pair of bracelets, I should think them well worth having and--there might be a little profit for you too."
These words were uttered in the most careless manner possible, though Laurentia's eyes seemed to pierce the old woman as she spoke them.
"Saja, njonja," replied M`Bok, scrambling to her feet; "Good morning, njonja."
"Good morning, nèh," said the lady.
Half an hour after this interview Lim Ho uttered a frightful curse as again and again he repeated the words, "An expensive lady!"
But he was too much intent upon his purpose to hesitate and so next day he handed M`Bok the bracelets for which she had asked him.
Before proceeding further with our story, we shall have to give the reader some information concerning Mr. van Nerekool, the young lawyer to whom Anna van Gulpendam had appealed for help in her anxiety to save Ardjan, the future husband of her favourite servant Dalima. Hitherto the narrative has carried us away, now it is time to cast a look backward.
Charles van Nerekool was, as we have seen, a fine tall young man of about five or six-and-twenty years of age, with handsome clearly cut features, a light beard and moustache and thick curly hair of a somewhat darker shade. He had studied at Leyden, the Athens of Holland. But though he had passed all his examinations most creditably, yet, he could not help confessing to himself that he had not altogether done justice to his great abilities. Both at the Grammar School and at the University he had passed for a somewhat absent and careless fellow in his studies. He had, from his early youth, been too much inclined to waste his time on objectless hobbies; but they were hobbies which showed that his mind was one of no ordinary stamp. Mighty fond was he, when a boy, of all kinds of things which lay outside the regular routine of his school duties. First and foremost, he loved music, then drawing, painting, in fact, the general contemplation of nature. Consequently, he had frequently been kept in for neglecting his lessons; but the boy did not much mind that; and on such occasions he would go away into a corner of the schoolroom and sit and dream. Then, as he sat there all alone with his fair head turned upward to the clear blue sky, some one would say, "Poor child, he is not long for this world, it will end in consumption." But Charles van Nerekool was not at all consumptive; for it happened with him, as with so many other seemingly delicate boys, that the approach of manhood brought with it robust health. When quite a child he had had the misfortune to lose his father. Spiteful tattling people, such persons as are always most anxious about things which in no way concern them, would have it that that father had never existed, or to speak more correctly, would have it that it was never known who was that father. What reason had they for flinging about these suspicions? Why? none at all. It was all the merest tittle-tattle, the merest putting together of trifling circumstances. Even at the name van Nerekool the busy-bodies would shake their heads and suggest that it ought to be read backwards, van Lookeren. But true or false, it mattered very little. In these days, a man can earn respect by his ability and his honesty; and where these are present, he will be highly valued in the world--in the world, that is to say, of people whose esteem is worth having. His mother was supposed to be in very easy circumstances and to enjoy a very sufficient income. At all events, the young man's studies had always been amply provided for, and his allowance at Leyden had been liberal enough to enable him to take part in all the amusements in which his fellow students used to indulge. But when, towards the end of the young man's time at college, Mrs. van Nerekool died somewhat suddenly, it appeared that in reality her means were most slender; and that she had indeed realised all the property she possessed and denied herself everything in order to be able to defray the expenses of her son's education. Seeing this, the trustee who undertook the settlement of Mrs. van Nerekool's affairs, strongly advised the young man to try and get appointed to the judicial staff in Dutch India. This advice young van Nerekool took. The short time which he had yet to spend at the University he employed in the closest application to his studies, and after having passed a brilliant examination, he was appointed to a place in India and put under the orders of the Governor General.
When he got out to Batavia, they kept him for a year in the capital to help the members of the high court of Justice to get through arrears of work which had accumulated. This year was by no means time lost; for young van Nerekool thus got a much clearer insight in all legal matters which concerned the natives of the island than he could otherwise have done, seeing that the revision of all sentences passed by the courts in Java and Madura had to go through his hands.
Shortly after, he was appointed member of the Council at Santjoemeh, which appointment gave him further opportunity of gaining useful information. At Santjoemeh, the young man had the good fortune to find in Mr. Zuidhoorn, the president of the Council, a thoroughly worthy and honest man, who proved himself a trustworthy guide, and who, fully appreciating the abilities and sterling qualities of his young colleague, took every opportunity of developing them in the right direction. In Mr. Zuidhoorn he had before him a living example of strict integrity and of that impartiality and freedom from prejudice which it is not always easy to practise in the service of dame Justitia.
At Santjoemeh van Nerekool made the acquaintance of two men, one of whom was about his own age and the other four or five years his junior. The names of these gentlemen were William Verstork and Edward van Rheijn. Both were in the government service in the Residence of Santjoemeh; but Verstork was obliged to live at Banjoe Pahit, which was the chief dessa of the division of that name to which Kaligaweh also belonged, and van Rheijn was serving his probation in the capital and in the office of the Resident. They were both fine honest fellows quite unspoiled by Indian intrigue and corruption and who held every evasion of the truth in abhorrence. In the main point therefore their dispositions harmonised admirably with the frank nature of Charles van Nerekool, yet were their characters somewhat different from his. Mr. Verstork was, probably in consequence of his longer stay in India and his greater experience, of a much more pliable disposition than his friend; and though himself incapable of anything mean or underhand, yet to a certain extent, he was inclined to give way to his superiors and to wink at, or close his eyes to, transactions of theirs which would not bear the strictest scrutiny. This he was compelled to do, he said, in order not to spoil his career. This pliability of character frequently used to involve him in warm disputes with his two friends, in which, however, he would not try to justify himself, but used to palliate his conduct by appealing to the exceptional circumstances in which he was placed and which were indeed of sufficiently trying a nature to give him a claim to indulgence. He also had, at an early age, lost his father; but less fortunate than van Nerekool, he was left as the eldest son of a large and needy family; and though his mother had heroically striven to provide for the wants of herself and children, yet her earnings were not by any means sufficient even partially to attain that object. Moreover at the time of old Mr. Verstork's death two of William's younger brothers were receiving their education in Europe, and the studies of these young people could not be interrupted without altogether marring their prospects of future success. Thus it came to pass that Controller Verstork had a very heavy burden of care resting upon him, since the future of that family, of which he was in reality the bread-winner, depended entirely on the career he might make. If, therefore, he could now and then be accused of lukewarmness, or if for the shortcomings of others he was too ready to find extenuating circumstances or excuses, the difficult position in which he was placed ought to be fairly considered. As far as he himself was concerned he always was in word and deed scrupulously just and honest, and the future will show that, in cases of emergency, he could play his part with manliness and vigour.
Edward van Rheijn, the probationary-controller, was not of so yielding a nature, lukewarmness was not one of his faults. He was, indeed, as yet too young to have acquired Verstork's circumspection and prudence; but in the office of Mr. van Gulpendam, under whose immediate orders he had been placed, he was in a terrible school and he had every opportunity to become, according to the latter's favourite expression, "a thoroughly useful and efficient Indian functionary."
These three men, then, were friends in every sense of the word, and they never neglected a single opportunity of enjoying each other's society. Charles and Edward had, of course, constant chances of meeting since they both lived at Santjoemeh. They might, indeed be called inseparables. It was not so, however, with Verstork, whose station, the dessa Banjoe Pahit was quite twelve miles from the Residence; and for whom, therefore, there could be no question of daily intercourse with his two friends. Every Saturday afternoon when his work was over and he had closed his office, he used to jump on his horse and ride off at full speed to Santjoemeh where he was wont to lodge with one of his friends. The Saturday evening he used to spend at the "Harmonie" and listen to the excellent music of the militia band. On Sunday he was accustomed to pay some visits, and, of course, to call upon his chief officer, the Resident, and on Monday morning he was off again before daylight so as to be able to take his bath and have his breakfast and to be in his office punctually at nine o'clock. The two inseparables generally accompanied him wherever they could, but the Sunday evenings were specially devoted to friendly intercourse and conversation. These they invariably used to spend together either at van Nerekool's house or at van Rheijn's.
On one of these occasions, Charles had told his friends how that, on one of his visits to the van Gulpendams he had been introduced to the Resident's daughter Anna, how he had cultivated that young lady's acquaintance whenever he had met her at the "Harmonie," at evening parties, or at the Residence itself; and he further confessed that Miss Anna van Gulpendam appeared to him the most amiable and accomplished girl he had ever in his life had the pleasure of meeting.
"Indeed," he had continued to say, "I do not exactly know what my sentiments are. Is it a mere friendly feeling towards a pretty and accomplished child, or is it perhaps love which is beginning to nestle in my heart? I am so utterly inexperienced in such matters that I cannot tell; all I know is that I am never so happy as when I am in her company."
"And you manage to be so pretty frequently?" said van Rheijn with a malicious smile. "For some time," he continued to Verstork, "friend Charles has been away from home almost constantly. I really see very little of him, he is out almost every evening, and then you are sure to find him wherever Miss Anna and her parents happen to be, or else at the Residence whether it happens to be a reception night or not. You know I am half beginning to suspect him of taking a hand at the Residential card-table. I have several times strolled round the house trying to find out something; but the place is so closely hedged in by flowers and shrubs, that my curiosity has never once been rewarded and I have not been able to get at the secret at all."
William Verstork shook his head doubtfully at this communication, "Is there any truth in all that?" he asked, as he steadfastly kept his eye on van Nerekool.
"Oh yes," said the latter without the least hesitation, "but yet--"
"It is a very sad thing," said Verstork, interrupting him.
"A sad thing?" asked Charles, somewhat hastily, "what do you mean? you won't allow me to finish what I have to say."
"Very well," said Verstork, "say on."
Van Nerekool then went on to tell him how very powerfully he had felt himself attracted to the young girl; but that hitherto he had not allowed a single word to betray his feelings. What had passed between them was mere conversation, in which he had indeed discovered how fresh and ingenuous the young girl was; but which had never gone further than the merest every-day talk, and had entirely been confined to little compliments, and to those harmless encounters of wit in which young people who are fairly gifted, and are not particularly anxious to hide their light under a bushel, are wont to indulge. He was absolutely certain that Anna was wholly unconscious of what was passing in his bosom. But he continued to tell his friends, that on a certain evening, it was getting rather late, a Javanese servant had brought him a note in which dear little Anna had begged him to come at once and see her at the Residence.
William Verstork could not help smiling at this communication.
"Pray don't laugh," cried Charles gravely, "although I cannot help confessing that very strange thoughts forced themselves upon me also. It was so strange, was it not? So wholly contrary to the usages of society that a young girl should write such a letter at such a time. At the time I could only look upon it as an étourderie, a thoughtless action; but I am glad to tell you I soon found out my mistake. The dear girl saw me appear at her father's house without showing the slightest symptom of confusion, and soon convinced me that she had excellent reasons for her seemingly strange conduct. As it was not at all an unusual thing for me to accompany her, it could not awaken any one's suspicion, that we took our places at the piano in the brilliantly lighted inner gallery. Then I learnt why Anna had thus strangely summoned me. She wished to invoke my assistance for a certain Javanese, who is the lover and is to be the future husband of her baboe; and who now lies under a charge of opium-smuggling."
Thereupon van Nerekool told his friends all he had heard from Anna, about Ardjan's ill-treatment, and about the opium discovered at the Moeara Tjatjing.
When he had finished speaking, William Verstork again said feelingly: "It is very sad!"
"Yes, it is very sad," rejoined Charles, totally misunderstanding the meaning of his friend's words. "But I hope the Javanese will not be found guilty."
"And," asked Verstork deliberately, "And--your affection for this girl is, you say, very strong?"
"Well," resumed van Nerekool, "since that evening I have, as Edward has told you, had frequent opportunities of meeting my dear Anna, sometimes at the Zuidhoorns', sometimes at the Commandant's, and sometimes at her parents' house; and I have had frequent conversations with her on the subject of this unfortunate police-case. And every time I have seen her I have received stronger and stronger proofs--"
"Of the innocence of the Javanese, I suppose!" said van Rheijn, somewhat playfully.
"No, not so," said van Nerekool, "but of the goodness of her heart, of the true nobility of her soul and of the honesty and purity of her character. And--my dear old friends, I must confess it, I am now entirely under her spell."
"It is a very sad thing," said Verstork most seriously.
"But what the deuce do you mean--'by your very sad thing?'" cried Charles, somewhat out of patience.
"Your affection for her, my dearest friend," said the other; "you are laying up for yourself a very sad future."
"But how so?" cried Charles.
"My dear friend," said Verstork, "I ask you to give me a week to answer that question."
"Why," cried van Nerekool, "you talk as if you had to pronounce a sentence. Come, there's a good fellow, out with it at once."
"Next Saturday," said Verstork, "I intend to come again to Santjoemeh and, take my word for it, then I will give you an answer."
Whatever efforts van Nerekool might make, he could make nothing more out of the mysterious controller, and he had to rest content with the promise of a full explanation on the next Saturday.
Chapter X
UNE INVITATION À LA CHASSE ET UNE INVITATION À LA VALSE.
William Verstork was destined to keep his appointment with his friends; but it was not at all in the way he intended. When he promised to meet them he thought that he would, as usual, ride over to Santjoemeh on the Saturday afternoon and stay until Monday morning. It was, however, not to be so. On Thursday morning Charles van Nerekool and Edward van Rheijn received a letter inviting them to go to Banjoe Pahit.
"That will be," wrote Verstork to his two friends, "a complete change of parts. Hitherto I have been your guest, but now I insist upon appearing in the character of host. Of host!--surely my pen must be playing tricks with me. Yes, indeed, for in order to play the host, one must be able to show hospitality--no, no--hospitality is not the right word; but in order to play the host one must be able to provide for one's friends; and though I know well enough that you would not at all object to put up with my poor controller's lodging and with my still more humble dish of rice--yet I do not intend to offer you such meagre fare. Where I shall stow you away I really don't know, nor can I tell where you will find your entertainment. There's a fine invitation! I hear you exclaim. Yet, my dear friends, I feel quite certain that you will accept it. Just hear what I have to say. For some time past the maize fields of the inhabitants of my division, have been ravaged by wild boars, these have, in fact, of late become a real plague; and the dessa Kaligaweh is the principal scene of their nightly depredations. The main body of these formidable poachers finds, I am told, a refuge in the wild bush which surrounds the Djoerang (ravine) Pringapoes. This djoerang is a wild mountain cleft, and is situated very nearly in the centre of my division; the two dessas Banjoe Pahit and Kaligaweh, which are about five miles apart, lie on the outskirts of it; the one in the hilly country and the other in the lower grounds sloping down to the sea-shore. I have made up my mind to clear my district, as far as I can, of these mischievous creatures, and, for that purpose, I intend next Saturday and Sunday to hold a battue. I cannot possibly take any other days for it, as I cannot, at any other time, be away from my office. You see, therefore, my dear friends, that my letter to you is 'Une invitation à la chasse,' and that kind of thing, I know, you will not refuse. On Saturday morning I will send you a couple of first-rate horses which the wedono has offered me for the use of such of my friends as may like to join in the sport. I suppose that you will, both of you, be able to knock off work at about two o'clock; you will then want an hour to have a bath and to get your shooting-coats on. Pray don't forget a pair of tall gaiters, which in our rough country and among our thorny bushes, you will find absolutely necessary. So that, say at three o'clock, you can be in the saddle. If you will only give your horses their heads I know they will easily carry you six miles an hour, so that at about five o'clock you will be at my house. That is agreed upon, is it not?"
"Certainly, by all means," cried Charles and Edward both together, as if they wished to convey their acceptance of his invitation to the writer at Banjoe Pahit.
Said van Nerekool: "I must go and have a look at my gun, and I should think it would be well to take a couple of revolvers."
"Of course," said van Rheijn, "William says so in his letter. Just hear what he goes on to say. 'Look well to your firearms, and see that they are in good order, for I can tell you that these pigs, when they are roused from their lair, are not by any means contemptible foes. You must, beside your guns, bring revolvers or, at least, a good hunting-knife, one you can fix on the end of your rifle, as a sword-bayonet.'"
"The devil we must!" said van Nerekool, "where in the world must I get all these things from? I shall have to try and borrow them somewhere I suppose. I have got a pretty good shot-gun of my own, but I can't fix a bayonet to it. I don't think it is much use except for shooting rice-birds, or sparrows. I must somehow manage to get hold of a rifle."
"Well," said van Rheijn, "the Regent of Santjoemeh, Radhen Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo has, I know, a splendid repeating rifle and a yatagan, and the Vice Regent has a pair of excellent Le Faucheux central-fire revolvers. I have no doubt they will gladly lend them to you."
"Then the best thing for me to do is to go and pay a visit at the Regent's house," said van Nerekool.
"There is no need whatever to do that," said van Rheijn. "There is to be a grand reception and ball at the Residence to-night. On such an occasion those native grandees are not at all likely to be absent. You will be there, I presume?" he continued, with a very meaning smile.
"Certainly," cried van Nerekool, with much warmth, "do you think I would--?"
"Lose an opportunity of a dance with pretty Miss Anna?" asked van Rheijn, finishing the sentence for him. "Well, you can at the same time ask for the loan of the weapons, that will save you a tedious call upon those Javanese worthies, But--"
"Well, but--what?" asked van Nerekool, "what do you mean?"
"Do you know how to handle a rifle?"
"Oh, you need not trouble yourself about that," replied van Nerekool, "I was always practising shooting at Leyden, and they used to consider me a very good shot, too."
That evening the Residence at Santjoemeh was most brilliantly illuminated. In the spacious outer gallery, in the inner gallery, in the pandoppo, in the side-rooms, in fact on all sides, rich chandeliers were glittering in the stately mansion. The innumerable jets of gas surrounded by globes of ground glass cast a bright, yet pleasantly softened light over the handsome apartments, and even over such parts of the garden as immediately surrounded the house. But there, amidst the shrubs and flowers, the gaslight had to compete with the brightly shining moon, a competition in which man's invention could not hope to gain the advantage. The Queen of Night was casting over everything her placid white light; houses, roads, grassy lawns, shrubs and flowers lay bathed in her radiance; and wherever her beams glided through the branches they shed a dim, uncertain twilight, which was gentle as a caress, and mysterious as the vision of a dream. The glare of the gas, on the other hand, surrounded the building as with a reddish circle, in which, it is true, everything was brilliantly lighted, but in which every object seemed touched, as it were, with an unclean finger, when compared with the lily white hue of the natural illumination outside. This reddish circle grew fainter and fainter as it spread farther from its centre. For some little distance the gaslight seemed to soil the absolute purity of the moonbeams; but gradually their lily-white prevailed, and calmly rested upon the landscape beyond. In front of the house there was a splendid avenue of Kanarie trees which led from the domain to Santjoemeh. At that hour of night, when seen from the front gallery, the gas-jets, by which the avenue was partially lighted, looked in the moonlight which fell through the tufted trees, like so many big fire-flies, and, in the soft breeze which barely moved the foliage, they threw on the well-kept gravel path, the most fantastic shapes which seemed to run after each other in perpetual chase.
In the far distance more fire-flies were seen, red, green, blue, yellow, all the colours of the rainbow, in fact. These were the carriage-lamps of those who were coming to attend the reception and ball, and who thus, by different coloured lamps, gave notice of their approach.
The front gallery was as yet empty, only the daughter of the house stood for a few moments at the balustrade looking down the whole length of the avenue.
Said she to herself: "Yon red light which glitters so brightly is the carriage of the assistant-resident of police, he always has the right of precedence. And that blue one is Mr. Zuidhoorn's, and that violet--Ah, there right away in the distance, that green--I must be off--the foremost carriage is almost in the grounds--However, I am glad van Nerekool is coming--It would never do for him to see me looking out." She turned and joined her parents, who, having been told by the Chief Constable that the guests were approaching, had entered the inner gallery. Anna took her place by the side of her mother ready to receive and to return the greetings of the visitors. Mr. van Gulpendam, however, first went to have a look in the front gallery. He was dressed very simply in black evening coat without any official badge or distinction whatever, though the pajoeng stand figured conspicuously enough at the end of the gallery. He walked to the balustrade and cast a look outside. Down below at the foot of the broad flight of steps which on both sides gave access to the front gallery, a couple of sentinels were marching up and down with shouldered arms. They regulated their walk, so that they met in front of the middle of the gallery, then, in turning round they took care that the tips of their bayonets should just clash together, a sound which evidently was as sweet as heavenly music in the Resident's ears. At all events he looked down with much complacency upon the two sentinels and thrust forward his chest as one who would say: "Look, that is the homage due to my exalted rank and transcendent merit."
Close by the main building, but a little on one side of it, a small temporary pavilion had been erected, and upon it also the Resident bestowed a look. The bandsmen of the militia at Santjoemeh, dressed in full uniform, had just arrived, and were engaged there in arranging their desks and opening their music-books and making other preparations. A condescending nod to the bandmaster showed that Mr. van Gulpendam was in an excellent humour. Thereupon he turned and joined his wife and daughter.
"Those fellows," said he, "don't seem to drive very fast, however, they are heaving in sight now."
Fair Laurentia, proud as any queen, had taken up her position in the middle of the inner gallery, in front of a sofa which had been placed there on purpose before a valuable Japanese screen. She held in one hand a splendid bouquet of the rarest flowers, while from the wrist of the other dangled her curiously carved ivory fan, a weapon which the lady knew how to handle most becomingly. She was clad sumptuously in a black satin dress, which set off wonderfully well the perfection of her ample form. The corsage, reduced to the very limits modesty would allow, that is to say that it was sleeveless and cut down very deep in the back and very low in front, gave an ample view of her finely formed and well rounded arms, of her splendid shoulders which looked as if carved out of alabaster, and of a bosom which might have moved Venus Kallipyga to envy. One line lower, and that corsage would not have been able to contain the charms which it had to confine within almost too narrow compass. An exceedingly elaborate coiffure sustained the dark-brown locks of her stately head by means of a magnificent diadem glowing with precious stones, while a number of coquettish little curls straying over her clear white forehead, imparted to the sparkling dark eyes of the beautiful woman an uncommonly seductive fire. Round her neck she wore the blood-coral necklace with diamond clasps which M`Bok Kârijâh had handed to her, and on her wrists glittered the two serpent bracelets of old gold with diamond eyes which she had so greatly admired on the nonna of the Chinese major, and which had wrung from Lim Ho an imprecation accompanied by the words, "Betoel, njonja mahal!"
By her side stood her daughter Anna, who by the absolute simplicity of her attire, formed the strangest possible contrast with her mother. However much Laurentia had tried, nothing would induce Anna to appear in a low-necked dress. Her corsage, which like the dress was of rose-coloured silk, was modestly closed around the neck, yet did not prevent the imagination from picturing to itself the treasures which it modelled with perfect exactness. For jewellery of any kind, the pretty girl had a positive distaste. One simple Malmaison rose glowed in her dark glossy hair, which was dressed as plainly as possible, but the wealth of which she was not able to conceal. On her bosom a little bud of tea-rose attracted attention to its delicately shaded yellow tints, while it dispersed thoughts which, at that modestly veiled yet finely modelled bust, might perhaps be tempted to take too wild a flight.
"How absurd of you it is, Anna," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, crossly enough, as she surveyed her daughter from head to foot with a sarcastic smile, "to appear at an evening party so shabbily dressed as that! Why, your late governess used to make a better figure. People would take her for the daughter of the house, and you for the governess."
In a certain sense the worldly woman was right enough. The late governess she alluded to was a frivolous Parisienne, who had in every way encouraged Mrs. van Gulpendam in her tastes, and had even urged her on to greater extravagance. Thus she had got into the good graces of the mistress of the house, and--evil tongues used to whisper--she stood very high in favour with the Resident also. But be this true or false, this much is certain that Mademoiselle Hélène Fouillée had no more succeeded in corrupting the mind of the young girl entrusted to her care, than in spoiling her naturally excellent taste. It was not Anna's intention to reply to her mother's ill natured remark, even had she had time to do so. At that moment was heard the sound of feet mounting the broad steps which led to the front gallery, and in a few seconds, in came a number of young gentlemen of different races, some with white cheeks, some with brown, some with fair hair, and some with black locks heavily oiled and stiff as pipe stems, all in correct evening dress, with the starchiest collars, and with opera-hats under their arms. These were, as Mr. van Gulpendam used to style them, the ordinary seamen of the feast, who had to keep up the liveliness of the mess; and who were expected to stand always ready by the signal halliards. With this peculiar figurative language he meant to convey that these young gentlemen were expected to hold themselves in readiness for any emergency. Most of them were clerks and writers in the Resident's office, who were admitted on these high occasions on condition that they were always prepared to dance with any lady who might happen to be in want of a partner.
Very humbly and very modestly they approached to pay their respectful compliments to the family. In return for this homage they obtained a condescending shake of the hand from their chief, a pleasant little smile and nod from his pretty daughter, while mamma, with her own fair fingers, fastened a rosebud in their buttonholes, thus dubbing them the stewards of the evening's entertainment.
"And now, young people," said Laurentia, with her most fascinating smile, "you must dance merrily to-night."
"Aye, aye," grumbled van Gulpendam, "a good stiff breeze mind--no doldrums, do you hear!"
All heads were submissively bent under this windy exhortation, when suddenly Laurentia cried:
"Quick, there come our guests!"
As a black cloud the young men rushed from the room, as the foremost carriages drove up. Presently, three of them returned to the inner gallery, escorting the wife of the assistant resident of police and her two daughters, a pair of good-looking twins of about twenty.
"Well, how very kind of you, Mrs. Meidema," cried Laurentia, in her most pleasant tones, as she grasped the hand of the lady who had just arrived and drew her close to give her a kiss on the forehead. Each of the two young girls also obtained this high distinction.
"It is really kind of you to have come," continued the garrulous hostess. "I hardly dared to hope that we should have the pleasure of seeing you here to-night. Mrs. Zuidhoorn was this morning telling me that one of your children is ill."
"Oh no, I am glad to say," replied Mrs. Meidema, "it is not so bad as that, only slightly indisposed, it is nothing but a slight cold."
The Assistant Resident who followed his ladies, made his bow to the mistress of the house, and then shook hands with his chief. As the young ladies were exchanging greetings, one of the sisters whispered to Anna van Gulpendam, "I have something to tell you presently, Anna."
"Secrets, Matilda?" asked she.
A slight nod was the answer, in fact no other reply was possible; for after the family Meidema a constant stream of visitors came up and crowded around the host and hostess to pay them their respects.
Then appeared the President of the Court, and the members of the judicature, the officials of the Home Department, the officers of the garrison, the leading commercial men and principal manufacturers--all these accompanied by the ladies of their families, whenever these were old enough to join in the dancing. There further appeared the Regent of Santjoemeh Radhen Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo and the Vice-regent Radhen Pandjie Merto Winoto and the chief djaksa (public prosecutor) Mas Djogo Dirdjo and many other Javanese grandees and all these with their principal wives. There appeared also the major of the Chinese Tang Ing Gwan and captains, Lim Liong Hie and Tjaa Kwat Kong and several lieutenants of that nation. There also Lim Yang Bing the opium farmer at Santjoemeh and his son Lim Ho put in an appearance. All these people thronged around the three members of the Residential family as they stood by the above mentioned sofa. They all smiled and nodded, and bowed, and shook hands, and made protestations--indeed, at the Hague you could not have seen it done better. If all these utterances which spoke of attachment and devotion, were but in sober reality the outcome of hearty good will--why, then Santjoemeh would have been an earthly Paradise.
Meanwhile, the militia-band had been playing the overture of La Dame Blanche, to which music, however, not a single soul had paid the slightest attention.
When the overture was ended, and flattery, and incense, and compliments, had, at length, been exhausted, the Resident made a signal, which was forthwith repeated by one of the ministering spirits in the front-gallery. Straightway were heard the tones of a formal Polonaise, whereupon the assembled guests pairing off began to move about in the spacious inner and outer galleries. It was a stately procession, reminding one very much of a march-past, during which the keen eyes of the ladies could sharply criticise each other's toilettes.
The Resident led the procession with the Commandant's wife on his arm, immediately behind them, came fair Laurentia on the arm of that commanding officer, while the chief of the medical staff followed with Anna, This was a thorn in van Nerekool's side; but when, after the Polonaise, were heard the exhilarating strains of "L'invitation à la valse," the old doctor had led Anna to a seat, youth asserted its rights, and soon Anna and Charles were gliding together in the inner gallery. It was a sight, to see the two young people so happy, with pleasure beaming from their eyes.
"I believe," said Anna in a subdued voice, as she waltzed, "I believe there is some news about Ardjan."
"About Ardjan?" asked Van Nerekool, evidently perplexed. Not, indeed, the case of Anna's protégé but merely his name had escaped the young man's memory, his face told that plainly enough.
"Yes, Ardjan, don't you recollect, baboe Dalima's lover," rejoined Anna, "have you forgotten him already--Oh those men, those men!"
"I confess, it is very stupid of me," replied van Nerekool; "but what news is there, Miss van Gulpendam?"
"I don't yet know what it is, Mr. van Nerekool."
"Mr. van Nerekool!" said Charles, "that sounds remarkably stiff and formal."
"Miss van Gulpendam," said Anna playfully in the same tone, "that also sounds remarkably stiff and formal."
"Will you then give me the right to call you Miss Anna, or, shorter still--simply Anna--dear, darling Anna?"
The young girl blushed most prettily. She did not utter a word; but her hand, as it rested lightly on his shoulder, was her interpreter. The slightest little pressure, and that was all. It was almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make Charles the happiest of mortals. His right arm encircled her waist, with his left hand he held hers, while his eye was steadfastly fixed downward on the graceful form before him.
Thus, for a few moments they glided on in silence, "I am waiting for your answer," said he at length, "dear--darling Anna. I may call you so, may I not?"
No distinctly spoken word came from her lips; but she uttered a sound, very pleasant to hear, though quite indefinite. It was a gentle breath, something like a suppressed sigh, and sounded like a veil which her maiden modesty cast over the unpronounced answer.
Yes--but--might it not have been her breathing somewhat quickened by the exertion of dancing?
With the blindness and bungling so peculiar to true lovers, Charles at once interpreted that sigh as a sign of fatigue, and somewhat anxiously he said to her:
"You are tired! shall I take you to your seat?"
"Oh no," said she in a scarcely audible whisper, "I am not at all tired. Do let us go on dancing."
However inexperienced in such matters van Nerekool might be, those words were plain enough. "With the greatest pleasure, dear Anna," he cried, as he led his partner on amid the maze of dancers.
"You give me leave then to call you dear--dearest Anna?"
One eloquent look from the fair girl was the answer.
"Oh then," continued he passionately, "let me tell you how dear you are to me, how dearly, how fondly I love you."
Her well-gloved hand moved convulsively on his shoulder.
"Yes, darling Anna," he continued in a lower tone, but more eagerly than before--"I love you as never man can have loved before,--I love you with all my heart and with all my soul, and the proudest and happiest moment of my life will be that in which I shall be able to call you mine--my own! Tell me, dearest Anna, tell me, may I hope for some return of my love?"
The girl's eye fell before his burning glance, but this was a turning point in her life, and when it was a question of such vital importance to both, she was much too frank and too honest to try and hide her feelings under a cloak of false modesty. Very softly therefore; but in a voice which to Charles was distinctly audible, she murmured, "Yes."
For a few moments he was silent, and seemed lost in thought Gently they glided on together to the time of that delightful music, and, though in the midst of a throng of dancers, wholly engrossed in each other, they felt as lonely as on some island washed by the storm-tossed waves.
But his arm now more firmly clasped her waist, for a single instant it seemed as if he would have caught her up to his breast and held her there, as if to take possession of his treasure.
"You make me too happy," said he at length, "You make me too happy with that little word, which to me is full of the deepest meaning. Now will you allow me to see your parents to-morrow and lay before them my formal request for your hand?"
At these words the girl's countenance fell, she replied however:
"Most certainly I will allow you, Mr. van Ne----"
"My name is Charles, dearest Anna," whispered the young man.
"Certainly, Charles, I will allow you--but it would not be right to try and conceal from you the fact that my father is prejudiced against you. My father does not like you at all, I have gathered that from many an unguarded expression that has fallen from him."
"Oh, yes," he replied, "I know that well. I also have noticed his dislike. But what objection can he have to me?"
"Well," said Anna, "to tell you the truth, I do not think he knows that himself--some unaccountable antipathy, I suppose. You know he calls you a dreamer, an enthusiast, an unpractical person, in fact, who will never make much way in the world."
"And my Anna," asked the young man, "does she also look upon me as a dreamer and an enthusiast?"
The fair girl looked up to him with a merry smile.
"Yes," continued van Nerekool, "I am an enthusiast--that is quite true. I am devoted to all that is good and all that is beautiful. I am an enthusiast where my darling is concerned--that is true enough. But is it a fact that I am an unpractical fellow, and one who will never make his way in the world? Methinks that just now, when I am trying to win the dearest girl in the world, I am proving myself to be most thoroughly practical, inasmuch as I am striving to secure for myself the greatest imaginable happiness, and I think that, far from dreaming, I am giving proof of being very properly and very wide awake. Don't you think so, dearest?"
Another soft pressure on that poor shoulder which already had had so much to bear was her answer.
"And do you think, dearest Anna," he continued, "that that antipathy is strong enough to make your father so hostile to me that he will refuse his consent to a union on which he knows that your happiness as well as mine depends?"
"I do not say so, Charles," was her reply. "But you must make up your mind to difficulties and obstacles of all kinds."
"Very good," said he, "we shall have to fight against them; difficulties are made to be removed and obstacles to be overcome. Anna, my darling, I count upon your love and your constancy; you may safely count on mine. Nothing--you hear me?--nothing in the world will in the slightest degree affect my love to you. The very obstacles you speak of will only serve to enhance the joy of our union."
The music ceased, and with it ceased the dance. Charles released his partner's waist and offered her his arm.
"Let us walk about for a few minutes," said he; "to-morrow I shall call upon your parents. I will request them to see me some time in the morning. That is a settled question, is it not?"
She nodded with her calm, sweet smile.
After having made a couple of turns around the inner gallery the two lovers found themselves at one of the doors which opened upon the pandoppo, where the illumination was equally bright. Several couples--groups of young girls--also were passing through the pandoppo to get to the garden of the Residence, there to enjoy for a while the freshness and coolness of the pleasant night. Anna and Charles followed the others somewhat mechanically; and soon found themselves among the ornamental shrubberies and bushes which the tropical sun brings forth in such abundance. Between these the pathways, laid down in the style of an English park, meandered gracefully and fantastically as the inspiration of some skilful artist.
"I fancy I saw Matilda Meidema and a couple of my friends yonder just now," said Anna, "down there in the Salak-lane. She has something to tell me. I shall be with you again directly."
Was it natural modesty? Was it a kind of dread of being alone for the first time with him whom she loved, and to whom she had just now spoken her faithful and trustful "yes?" Was it perhaps womanly curiosity which impelled her to go and hear what secret her friend had to communicate, and a burning anxiety also to pour into her ear the great secret of her own happiness? Perhaps so. At all events, she was about to speed away, but van Nerekool prevented her with gentle violence as he pressed to his heart the hand which lay on his arm.
"There will be time enough presently, dearest love," murmured he in a whisper, as if he feared some one in the garden might catch up his words; "there will be time enough presently to hear what Matilda has to tell you. This hour is mine."
XI. A GARDEN SCENE
Meanwhile, the moon had risen high in the heavens. Through the lofty tree-tops, her beams formed the most curiously shaped and fantastic silhouettes, which, under the influence of the cool night-breeze, seemed to drive one another up and down in endless chase along the bright yellow paths, and the velvety lawns. Here and there, the moonlight fell through groups of Tjemara trees, which, with their long needle-like foliage, greatly resemble our larches, and thus had, as it were, to pass through a network of the finest lace. Nothing could be more weird, and, to a poetic eye, more pleasing, than these strange patches of sifted light, which cast no shadows, and offered so great a contrast to the calm white radiance around, that they looked like the mysterious rings in which elves and fairies hold their nightly revels.
This night, however, the otherwise so quiet garden offered a most animated spectacle. On all sides, in the avenues, under the trees, on the lawns, were scattered about merry groups of young men and girls, and many more sedate parties also of older people, all thoroughly enjoying the fresh balmy air, and, after the heat and glare of the crowded ball-rooms, finding relief in the cool breeze and pleasant moonlight.
After the waltz was over, the band had struck up a fantasia on airs from La Traviata. As the picolo and the cornet began the well-known duet of the first act in which Alfred and Violetta declare their mutual love, and where the music so eloquently interprets the words:
"Un jour l'âme ravie, Je vous vis si jolie, Que je vous crus sortie Du céleste séjour. Etait-ce donc un ange, une femme, Qui venait d'embraser mon âme? Las! je ne sais encor ... mais depuis ce beau jour, Je sais que j'aime d'un pur amour."
Van Nerekool's arm stole round the waist of his dear Anna, as he led her into a thick grove of Pandan, under whose heavy and broad foliage they might hope, for a few moments, to escape from the observation of those around them.
"Now, my own dearest Anna," said he, "now that we are alone, let me repeat the words which, yonder in the midst of all those people, and with all those eyes fixed upon us, I could but whisper."
The young girl hung trembling all over on her lover's arm.
"Anna, my darling, I love you; I love you more dearly than my words can express, more dearly than my mother, than my sister, more dearly than myself. As I am by your side, I can dream of nothing but happiness, to breathe the same air that you breathe is bliss indeed. O darling Anna, let me tell you again and again how dearly, how faithfully, I love you!"
The strong man clasped the girl to his breast, and she hid her head on his shoulder.
"Tell me, Anna," he continued, passionately, "tell me, do you feel some such love for me? Do you love me, dearest? I know I have already had your answer, but repeat that word once again now that we are here alone, now that we are here far from the noise of the world, repeat that little word now as we are standing under the eye of God himself."
He drew the young girl still more closely to him, as he bowed his head down to her lips to listen. She closed her eyes, and then, blending with the wondrous soughing of the breeze in the Tjemara trees, softly and melodiously the magic syllable fell from her lips.
He all but uttered a cry of joy, and, bending his head still deeper down towards her, he whispered in trembling accents, "Dearest one, now let me set the seal to my vows of true and faithful love;" and, before Anna had time to utter a word, their lips met, and then, with one long, ardent kiss, they closed the band which, for this transitory world, was to hold their hearts and lives inseparably united.
Thus for a few moments they stood in fond embrace, gazing at one another with joy ineffable, while high above them the broad Pandan-leaves were gently waving and sheltering them under their friendly shade, and the wind sighing to the Tjemaras wafted to them from yonder distance the sweet strains of melody which again and again seemed to say:
"... Mais depuis ce beau jour, Je sais que j'aime d'un pur amour."
Those brief moments of rapture were indeed, for the happy pair of lovers, an ever-memorable page in the book of their life; the fairest page, no doubt, and the happiest. Soon, too soon, they were to be roughly shaken out of their blissful dream.
"Anna!" cried a loud voice, "Matilda Meidema is looking for you everywhere. Where can you have got to, my child?"
It was the voice of Anna's mother Laurentia, which suddenly startled our lovers out of their ecstasy. At a single glance the sharp-sighted woman had taken in the whole scene; but she betrayed no surprise, and, in the most winning manner, continued: "I left Matilda, only a moment ago, by yonder bed of roses--if you will follow this path, you can't help meeting her."
And, as her daughter stood irresolute:
"Oh," said she, "you need not be anxious; Mr. van Nerekool will be kind enough to offer me his arm, so you see you will not leave him sorrowing and utterly forsaken. Make haste."
These words uttered in the most friendly tone, yet so full of sarcasm, dismayed the young girl utterly, and caused her to hurry away with sad forebodings.
"And now, Mr. van Nerekool," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, somewhat loftily, to the young man. "Now, it is our turn, will you kindly offer me your arm?"
Without a word, and with a courtly bow, van Nerekool complied; but he felt sick at heart, as though he had committed some crime.
"Come," said she, "we will walk up this avenue of Tjemaras, it is lighter here and not so mysteriously dark as in that horrid Pandan grove. True, I don't suppose you will have to tell me such pretty tales as you were just now whispering to Anna, Fie, Mr. van Nerekool, that was hardly a loyal action on your part, I must say--"
Charles cast his eye on the woman who was leaning on his arm, and who, so calmly and with so musical a voice, signified her maternal disapprobation. They had come forth from the Pandan grove, so that the moonlight, shining full upon the perfect form of her snowy bosom, which a thin tulle handkerchief only nominally protected from the night air, imparted to her person an indescribably fascinating appearance. As though dazzled at the sight, the young man, for a single instant, closed his eyes; and when he opened them again, he found the deep, dark gaze of the beautiful woman fixed full upon him. She seemed to divine the impression which the view of her charms had, for a passing moment, made upon the youthful and susceptible man. Her look seemed to interrogate, and, at the same time, was encouraging.
"Madam," said Charles at length with a deep breath, as if he were putting from him an unwelcome thought; "Madam, you were doubtless surprised to find me walking with Miss Anna in this somewhat lonely part of the garden--"
"Walking with her, yes,--and kissing her," said fair Laurentia, completing the sentence.
"Well, yes," continued Charles, "and kissing her; but should you perhaps think that we had purposely selected this spot, then--"
"Well, what then?" asked she, with a sly smile.
"Then you would be misjudging Miss Anna and myself."
"I considered," retorted Laurentia, somewhat sarcastically, "that the spot was an admirable one--well-chosen for kissing."
"Yet it was the merest chance that brought us to it. Believe me, before that moment,--or to speak more correctly,--before this evening, not a word of love had ever passed between us."
"Oh, Mr. van Nerekool!" exclaimed Laurentia, with a mocking smile, "that is quite incredible! Do you expect me to believe that two young people of different sexes, should be kissing each other in an out-of-the-way corner, if there had not previously been some words of affection,--of love,--spoken between them--without, in fact, any question of passion on either side?"
"And yet, madam, believe me, it is the perfect truth. I never tell a lie," broke in Charles, with considerable vehemence.
"Aye, aye," said Laurentia, "I know all about it. I once was young myself. Oh," continued the pleasure-loving woman, her voice falling at the remembrance of that youth from which she was so loth to part. "Oh, when I was nineteen, I was exactly what Anna is now--I was, as she is now, a budding beauty, I had just as fresh and youthful feelings--I was just as child-like and playful as she is."
Van Nerekool shuddered at this comparison of the daughter with the mother.
"I was just as kind-hearted, just as lovable as she is. Oh believe me," continued she, excitedly, while she allowed her hand to lean on his arm more heavily perhaps than was needful, and gave that arm a gentle pressure. "Believe me, one need not have a very lively imagination to see that Anna will be precisely like me."
For a moment she paused, as if she began to see that she was being carried away by her subject.
"No doubt, madam," replied van Nerekool, gallantly, as he allowed his eye to wander from the face of his fair companion to her shoulders, to her bosom, to her feet. "No doubt, one may safely predict that Miss Anna will, in charms and perfections, nearly come up to her mother."
"Pray, Mr. van Nerekool, no compliments," said Laurentia, with an affected smile.
"But may I beg of you," continued he, "to let me know for what purpose you drew the parallel? I do not quite see--"
Laurentia shook the wealth of curls which covered her neck and descended to her shoulders. No, the simpleton whose arm she held, did not understand her. That was plain enough. One thought of M`Bok Kârijâh swiftly passed through her brain, and drew a sigh from her.
"Oh," she continued, while her bosom rose and fell quickly as she drew breath more rapidly, "I merely meant to state that I was young once--"
"And you are young still," cried van Nerekool, politely.
"That a kiss has been snatched from me too," continued Laurentia, with a smile of pleasure at the remembrance, "but that occurred in open daylight, in the presence of my parents, and not in the darkness of a Pandan grove."
"Now, madam," said van Nerekool, very seriously, "allow me, I pray you, to tell you how it all happened. For about a twelvemonth I have been visiting at your house. At first my visits were but rare, of late they have become much more frequent. Now, you are a clever woman and you cannot have failed to see the reason of this. I had made the acquaintance of your daughter, and the more thoroughly I began to appreciate her amiable and noble character, the more deeply did the shaft which had struck me at my first visit, enter into my heart. How shall I go on, madam--the simple truth is that soon I felt that at her side only I could be truly happy. But;--though I ventured to hope that Miss Anna had no aversion for me--and though I thought that I might reckon upon your friendly aid also--yet I very soon began to notice that I failed to gain the good-will of Mr. van Gulpendam. Indeed, I may say, that he positively dislikes me. That feeling of dislike he could not always repress, though he observed towards me the forms of strict politeness; and, though I cannot complain of any purposely inflicted slights, yet now and then his repugnance would show itself in a manner which, to me, has been wholly unmistakable. This, in some measure, discouraged me. Then again, I know that, as yet, my income will not suffice to set up housekeeping on however modest a scale. Thus, you yourself, my dear madam, must have perceived that I left Miss Anna in utter ignorance of my affection for her. Whether or not she may have suspected my passion, I do not dare to say; but certainly I uttered no single word of love to her--"
"But Mr. van Nerekool--"
"Allow me, madam, to finish my story: certainly I uttered no single word of love to her until this evening when, in the giddy whirl of the dance, the secret which I had so long and so faithfully kept escaped me. I was beside myself with joy when the first declaration of my love was not met with a refusal. And, as a loving mother, can you now blame me because, as we were walking together a few moments later in this garden, I was driven, by the magic power of this lovely scene, by the solemn quiet of this enchanting spot, and by the seductive notes of the music which could not but find an echo in my heart, again to declare my love? Can you blame me because, as I held in my arms the pure angel of my dreams and clasped her to my heart, I sealed the solemn compact of our love with a kiss as pure and as holy--I swear it--as the angels in Heaven might interchange?"
Charles van Nerekool spoke with the fire, with the enthusiasm, of truth. His words were nothing like the commonplaces of society, nothing like the phrases which sound like a mere sentimental lesson learnt out of the romantic pages of Georges Sand, of Georges Ohnet or of Hector Malot. His words were eloquent, manly; and came from a true and loyal heart, and they made a deep impression on the fair lady who leaned on his arm, Laurentia--always very impressible--closed her eyes for a moment, as if dazed by the power and purity of his love. Had Mr. van Gulpendam ever, thought she, thus declared his love to her--had he ever spoken of her in such terms? Alas! no; he was a man wholly absorbed in the love of money; and--and--But she--she?--was she free from those faults which now she looked upon with such horror in her husband? For one single moment she was forced to confess herself guilty, for a single moment better thoughts prevailed. But this was only for a moment. The instant after she began to feel jealous of her daughter. Yes, jealous and angry at the thought that Anna has succeeded in winning so pure, so proud, so manly a love--a love which she herself had never either felt or inspired. Moreover she put no faith in so much purity and sincerity as the words of van Nerekool evidently conveyed. Her very nature forbade her to do so. All affection, all love between persons of opposite sexes was, in her estimation, the mere expression of material passion and the consequence of carnal desire. Purity and love were, to her, mere sounds, which, if she could understand them at all, only served as a cloak for far different sentiments. To her they were--they could be--nothing more. Under the influence, therefore, of such miserably grovelling views, she answered sarcastically: "Yes, I can understand all that! Immeasurable bliss under the Pandan bushes! Now, Mr. van Nerekool, shall I tell you what I think of that chaste kiss and all the rest of it?--Well, I think that they are merely fine names for something which might be expressed in totally different language. Why! you, as a man, you surely must know what meaning the world attributes to a kiss!"
"Pardon me, madam," replied Charles, somewhat sadly, "I am, as yet, very young and very inexperienced."
"Yes," said Laurentia with a mocking laugh, "I can quite perceive that."
"Oh madam," cried the young man, "I beg you let us not waste time in useless playing with words. Yes I am young, I repeat it, I am inexperienced, I have but little knowledge of the sentiments which seem to pass current in the world; feelings which appear to be ticketed like the samples of some commercial traveller, each to fit into their own compartment--one affection of the heart another of the head, another of the senses. Of all this I know nothing. I can say but one thing, I truly, and in all good faith and honesty, love your daughter; and especially, my love for her is a pure love in which the pursuit after pleasure has not once entered. Believe me when I say this in all the sincerity of my heart. Such insinuations I never expected to hear from her who is the mother of her whom I honour and respect above all things. I love Anna with all my heart and with all my powers, and I feel within me the glorious strength which honourable love alone is able to impart."
These principles of the young man spoken out so forcibly and in so manly a spirit, baffled Mrs. van Gulpendam completely. She felt at once that it would be no use whatever to try and play any idle games with him.
"But," said she somewhat impatiently, "what then do you want of me?" This she asked quite forgetting that it was she who had asked van Nerekool to give her his arm, and that it was she who had brought up this conversation--a conversation which seemed to be turning greatly to her discomfiture.
"I caught you," she continued, "as you were holding Anna in your arms, in a lonely spot, and as you were pressing a kiss upon her lips. Now I ask you, what am I to think of the vaunted purity of your love? Your practice seems to me to be in direct contradiction with your fine principles. I ask you again: is such conduct in any way excusable, while the girl's parents are left in ignorance of this passion?"
"Mrs. van Gulpendam, I have tried to explain to you how circumstances entirely beyond my control, have led me to betray my feelings. If you will not take my word for it, then I can only lament that you, my dear Anna's mother, have formed so low an opinion of my character. But, much as I do regret that, such considerations can now no longer withhold me. I have agreed with Miss Anna, that to-morrow I will ask your leave to call upon you in order to formally make my request to yourself and Mr. van Gulpendam, for your daughter's hand. Now, however, let me anticipate that to-morrow and make my petition to you here which it was my intention to lay before you to-morrow. And, may I add to that request, the prayer that you will kindly intercede on my behalf, with Mr. van Gulpendam?"
As he made his petition Charles van Nerekool had stopped in his walk and had dropped Laurentia's arm, and now he was looking up into the eyes of Anna's mother, with the beseeching look of yearning love.
Knowing the young man's character, it cannot for a moment be supposed that he acted with any view to theatrical effect when he stopped exactly in the centre of one of those strange shadowy glades under the Tjemara trees. The curious light, however, surrounded his head as with a mysterious aureola which made the finely chiselled features of his grave countenance and his fair curls stand out to the greatest advantage. Fair Laurentia was an excellent judge of manly beauty; and the ardent look which she cast upon the young man, as he stood there in an attitude of supplication before her, would have filled Anna with dismay had she been able to see it and been able to understand its significance.
The momentary danger, however, fortunately passed away; for the thoughts of the practical woman were just then distracted by the approach of two sons of the Celestial empire, who, walking in an avenue which ran parallel to that in which she was, made the fine gravel crunch under their curiously curved but heavy sandals.
These were babah Tang Ing Gwan the major of the Chinese troops at Santjoemeh and babah Lim Yang Bing the opium farmer. They also had come out to enjoy the fresh air, and were honestly confessing to each other that, on the whole, they did not find much amusement in these European entertainments. Said Lim Yang Bing with a most disgusting leer to his companion, "It is only the bare shoulders, arms, &c., of the European ladies and girls that reconcile me in any way to so tedious a party. It cannot be denied that the creatures are well made. But what on earth can the husbands and fathers of these things mean, to come and exhibit them thus publicly; and then what shamelessness, what want of modesty in those white women to show themselves thus, Tjiss! Fie upon them!"
"Yes, indeed, Tjiss!" said the Chinese major, an elderly man who with his long grey moustache drooping on to his breast, had a very martial, indeed a venerable appearance. "Yes, Tjiss!" said he, "I would not allow my wife or daughters to appear before me in such dress as that, or rather in such undress!"
"Have you noticed the njonja toean Resident?" said Lim Yang Bing. "She--"
"Hold your tongue!" whispered the major in a warning voice, "she is standing just there talking to the young judge; what can she have to say to him?"
Lim Yang Bing answered not a word; but a low cunning smile played upon his lips. The intrigues of his son Lim Ho were perfectly well known to him. He also remembered his conversation with the Resident--and van Nerekool was a member of the judicial bench.
No! the njonja had heard nothing but the crunching of the gravel; but the mere sight of these two Chinamen--and especially the sight of the opium-farmer, which brought at once Lim Ho to her mind, and her arrangements with M`Bok Kârijâh--caused the demon of money to triumph, and put to silence all other passions in her breast.
"Mr. van Nerekool," said she in a gentle coaxing tone of voice, "the Resident is not at all so badly disposed towards you as you seem to think. But he is a man who has a great eye for all that is practical.--Allow me to speak and do not interrupt me.--Our conversation has already lasted too long. The world might, you know--But no, you love my daughter do you not?"
She hesitated--she stammered, she was trembling all over. Young van Nerekool gazed at her with a strange puzzled expression which she seemed perfectly to understand.
"The Resident," she resumed, "will have practical men and--you must pardon me," she continued with slight hesitation, "you must pardon me for saying so; but you are not a practical man. No, no," continued she hastily, "don't look at me like that! You are moving in a world of dreams, which is very far removed indeed from practical every-day life. You picture to yourself an ideal world as different as possible from the one in which we live. And, I can tell you, if you cannot somehow or other manage to wake up out of your day-dreams, you will be in great danger of never making any way at all in the judicial career which you have chosen. Yours is, in sober fact, a most prosaic career; and the one of all others, in which dreams and fancies are utterly out of place."
Van Nerekool listened to this homily with the greatest attention and most submissively, though he felt arising within him a nameless feeling of uneasiness which he had much trouble to suppress.
"I am prepared to accede to your request," resumed fair Laurentia with her most winning smile, but at the same time emphasizing every syllable as if she counted them,--"I will speak for you, and I will plead your cause with the Resident,--and if I once consent to do that, Anna will be yours."
"Oh how can I sufficiently thank you," exclaimed van Nerekool, laying his hand on his heart, as if he wished to keep down its beating.
Very little more and he would, in his transport of gratitude, have snatched up Laurentia to his breast and covered her with kisses. Happily, however, he restrained himself,--happily, for who knows what effect such an act might have had upon the excitable woman.
"Be calm, Mr. van Nerekool," said she, "be calm. I am ready to intercede for you; but then, on your part, you must make me one promise."
"Oh speak, madam, speak--I will in every way--"
"Mr. Zuidhoorn," quietly resumed Laurentia, "is, as you may have heard perhaps, on the point of starting for Holland to recruit his health--I am right, am I not?"
"Very good," she continued as Charles made a gesture of assent, "there is a case coming before the Court which I am particularly anxious to see satisfactorily settled."
"But, madam," interposed the lawyer, "I am a member of the judicial council and have nothing whatever to do with the lower court."
"At my recommendation," replied Laurentia, "you will, being one of the junior judges, be appointed President of the lower court pending the arrival of Mr. Zuidhoorn's substitute. That will be a step for you, will it not?"
"Certainly it will," said van Nerekool, "I pray you go on."
"And--who knows?--But to come to the point. There is a Javanese at present in custody whose name is Ardjan, the fellow has been smuggling opium."
Van Nerekool's heart began to throb almost audibly. Of course the mother of his dearest Anna could but wish to help this poor Ardjan out of his trouble, and was about to call upon him to lend her his assistance. He therefore thought that he quite spoke her mind when he interrupted her by saying:
"Who is accused of smuggling opium, you mean, dear madam."
"That comes to the same thing," replied Mrs. van Gulpendam somewhat tartly.
The young lawyer looked up in surprise, he could make nothing of it.
"Ardjan," continued Laurentia, again quite calmly, "is an arch-smuggler, he belongs to a family of smugglers. Just lately--a day or two ago--his father was caught in the act, and offered armed resistance to the police in the execution of their duties. Such scum as that must be severely dealt with--do you hear?"
"Yes, madam, I hear," said van Nerekool, drily, "I know that he did offer resistance to the authorities; but--as far as opium-smuggling is concerned--"
"Smuggling!" cried the lady, vehemently, "is theft--is theft! you know that well enough, Mr. van Nerekool, it is stealing from the revenue, it is stealing from the public purse."
"Most undoubtedly it is, madam; but what I wanted to ask is--Has this case of smuggling been properly brought home to them?"
"Oh, certainly it has," cried Laurentia. "Ardjan is the guilty man--there is no one else to suspect. Of course, I know well enough that a conspiracy had been formed to cast suspicion upon Lim Ho, the son of the great opium farmer. Now what an absurdity!--the son of the farmer who, with his father, has the greatest interest in stopping all smuggling transactions!--it is simply absurd. I know also that in order further to prejudice Lim Ho, an accusation has been trumped up against him in the upper court, in which he is charged with having flogged Ardjan with Kamadoog leaves. But, of course, Mr. van Nerekool, you will know how to tear to pieces that web of deceit and perjury. You will know how to deal with that nest of smugglers, and make short work of all these perjurers!"
"Madam," replied the young man, "you may be quite sure that, if I have the honour of being appointed to the temporary presidency of the lower court, I shall, to the best of my abilities, discharge my duties with the strictest impartiality. He who is in the right shall have justice; and he who is guilty, shall not evade the punishment he deserves. I happen to know something about that smuggling business, and also of the so-called resistance to the police of which Pak Ardjan stands accused, and I think I can assure you that neither father nor son is as culpable as he is supposed to be."
"What a downright simpleton the booby is," thought Mrs. van Gulpendam.
"Mr. van Nerekool," she whispered in his ear, "the Resident is quite right--You are not a practical man."
"But, madam--"
"But remember, it is only if you follow my directions, that Anna will be yours. You mind that!"
"But," cried Nerekool, in extreme perplexity, "what is it you require me to do?"
"Ardjan and his father must both be transported," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, most resolutely. "Where to?--that matters but little--to Deli, to Atjeh--Yes, Atjeh, perhaps, would be the better place."
"They will be transported," said Van Nerekool, with equal resolution, "both of them, if they are found guilty."
"Guilty or not guilty!" exclaimed Mrs. van Gulpendam, "you will do as I tell you!--Or else--no presidency--You will do as I tell you--or else, depend upon it--no Anna!"
The blood flew up into the face of the upright young judge at this intolerable dictation. His whole mind and soul rebelled against such gross injustice. He dropped the arm of the fair temptress, and, without reflecting, he hissed rather than spoke in the heat of his indignation.
"Madam, I love your daughter, I dearly love Anna; but to purchase her hand at that price--the price of my own dishonour--Never, never!"
"Never?" sneered Laurentia.
"No, madam, never, never!" exclaimed van Nerekool. "Why, she herself would be the very first to despise and reject me, could I be guilty of such baseness and accept so odious an offer. But," continued he, suddenly changing his tone, "surely all this is but a jest, surely you are not in earnest!"
"I am in right--downright earnest," said Laurentia, sternly. "It is my last word to you--it is war or peace between us--I leave it to your own choice."
"I would not willingly make an enemy of anyone," said van Nerekool, very sadly; "but a clear conscience is to me precious above all things. Farewell, madam."
He covered his face with both his hands, as he hurried from the spot. For awhile he wandered about in the greatest excitement, seeking the loneliest spots in the garden. Presently, however, he somewhat recovered his composure, and, stunned by the blow that had just fallen on him, he made his way back again to the inner gallery. There he found Matilda van Meidema, who called to him, and said: "Mr. van Nerekool, my friend Anna has requested me to give you a message, it is this. Unless some means of rescue be found, Ardjan's case is hopelessly lost. All the witnesses have either been corrupted or put out of the way, so that his condemnation is certain."
"And from whom has Miss Anna got all this information?" asked van Nerekool with a sad absent smile.
"She had it from me, Mr. van Nerekool," replied the young girl.
"And how did you get to know all this, Miss Meidema?" he asked.
"Why, Mr. Judge," said she, "you happen to be in a rather inquisitive mood! I suppose," she continued with a laugh, "your curiosity is professional. The only thing I can tell you is that I have obeyed Anna's orders and delivered my message." Thus saying, with a curtsey she hurried away.
Charles wandered about for a while objectless among the guests. But, after his conversation with Laurentia he could find no rest. He looked round for Anna; but she, as daughter of the house, had, on the occasion of a formal party like the present, many duties to perform. Though the young girl's face showed but little enjoyment of the scene around her, yet it wore its usual pleasant smile. It was, however, a forced smile which, to her lover's eye, signified nothing else than anxiety and restlessness. At that sight all desire to remain left him, especially as he knew that he could not venture to approach her. So he went to look for his hat; and having found it, took leave of the Resident and of his wife, and a few minutes after he was gone.
"Take care! Think it over well," had been Laurentia's last whispered words as he made his parting bow.
XII. HUSBAND AND WIFE.--MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
It was getting rather late in the day. The sun had already risen high when Mr. and Mrs. van Gulpendam took their seat at the breakfast-table in the pandoppo. The Resident, according to his invariable custom, had risen early; but the ladies did not quite so soon recover from the fatigues of the last night's ball. When, at length, fair Laurentia appeared in the pandoppo she found her husband sitting in full dress, light-blue coat and silver buttons on which the arms of Holland shone conspicuous; but evidently in very bad temper. He sat impatiently turning about a paper in his hands: "At last!" he cried.
"What do you mean by at last," she rejoined, "I suppose that is to be my good-morning?"
"Very likely," said he gruffly. "Now is this breakfast-time I ask you? You know how very busy I am."
"Then why did you not have your breakfast before?" asked his wife.
"Why? why?" he grumbled, "that is always the way you women put us off! You know I don't like to sit down to meals alone!"
"Then why did you not call Anna? She would have had some news to tell you," replied the wife.
It appears that, after the party, Laurentia had not taken the trouble to enlighten her husband as to what had occurred on the previous evening. She had so much to do as hostess--and then she had not missed a single dance;--the young men of Santjoemeh had been simply charming!
"Anna, Anna," growled van Gulpendam, "why, I have seen nothing of her yet. You women never can have a good stiff run without being knocked up all the next day! But--what is up with Anna? What news may she have to tell me?"
"I will leave that to her--Anna!--call your young lady," said Laurentia turning to Dalima, who just then came into the pandoppo.
"Miss Anna will be here presently," said the baboe.
"But meanwhile," repeated van Gulpendam, "what news has the girl to tell me?"
"Oh," said Laurentia wearily, "I would much rather she should herself tell you. She could much better explain it herself why she allowed van Nerekool to kiss her last night in the garden. But, I should like to know what paper that is there in your hand. You know I don't like to see the rubbish at my table. There is room enough in the office for all that sort of thing; and what's more you have my full leave to keep all those things there!"
Van Gulpendam had taken the rather startling communication of his wife quite coolly; so coolly, indeed, that it exceedingly provoked fair Laurentia. She had, therefore, sought to vent her displeasure upon something, and that something, she had found in the unlucky piece of paper.
"It is a telegram," said van Gulpendam, moodily, "which I have just received, and which has annoyed me not a little."
"A telegram?" she cried.
"Yes, a message from the Hague. Look! yesterday evening at nine o'clock, this thing was sent off, and this morning by daylight, we have it here."
"Well," said Laurentia, in no mood to humour her husband, "do you call that so very quick? Don't you remember Amy's letter, when we had sent her our congratulations on her engagement? Our telegram left the office at Santjoemeh at eleven o'clock, and, she wrote to us, that the very same morning at nine o'clock, it was delivered to her. That's quick if you like--it seems to me, rather more than quick!"
"Why, Laurentia" said her husband, "I have explained it to you. The reason lies in the difference of longitude."
"Yes, yes, I know all about that, the sun turns--no the earth turns. Oh yes, I know all about it. But that does not alter the fact that it was very quick work. Fancy to receive a telegram, actually before it was sent off! But what can there be in that telegram from the Hague, to put you out so?"
"Bah!" said van Gulpendam, "what do you women know about business?"
"Yes, but tell me," she insisted, "from whom is it?"
"It is from my brother Gerard," replied van Gulpendam shortly.
"And what is it about?" asked Laurentia; "now don't keep me waiting, it is not gallant."
At the word gallant, van Gulpendam made a wry face, "Oh," said he, "it is about the matter of the Netherland's Lion. Nothing can come to it--unless--"
"Yes, unless what?" inquired Laurentia.
"Unless the opium monopoly at Santjoemeh, can be made to bring in a great deal more money than it does at present. The estimates of our colonial secretary are not at all approved of, and they reckon upon getting a couple of millions more from that source."
"They, they, who are they?" continued Laurentia.
"Why--Sidin, pull down the blinds!" said the resident prudently. "That sun," continued he, "is so troublesome shining through the venetians. You ask who are they? Why they are the government, the ministers, the Lower House in fact."
"Oh," said Laurentia, carelessly, "is that all?"
"Is that all! of course it is," replied her husband grumpily, "quite enough too, you know as well as I do that the farmer pays more than twelve hundred thousand guilders for his privilege."
"Well," said Laurentia, "what of that?--next year he will have to put down fifteen or eighteen hundred--there's the end of it."
"Of course," growled the Resident, "it is easy enough to say there's the end of it."
"When is the contract to be renewed?" asked she.
"This September," was the reply.
"Very good, then you leave it to me."
"Yes, but--" objected van Gulpendam.
"Now, my dear," said she, "pray, let us have no fuss, our dear Javanese friends will have to smoke a little more opium apiece--and--you will wear the bertes knabbeldat--what do you call the thing?"
"Virtus nobilitat" said van Gulpendam, with dignity.
"All right! the Virtus nobilitat, you will wear it in your button hole, but--it will be my doing."
"How so?" asked the husband, in surprise.
"Now Gulpie, that is my secret. You will see, the opium contract will produce four or six hundred thousand more. Don't therefore let us have any troubling about it before the time. Now let us change the subject. How is it," she continued, "that you took so coolly what I just now told you about Anna? about Anna, you know, and van Nerekool?"
"Come," said the Resident, "let us have our breakfast, Anna is not coming down it seems, and I have no time to spare."
"All right," said his wife, "let us have breakfast, but that will not, I hope, prevent you from answering my question?"
Van Gulpendam shook his head.
"Pass the coffee, nènèh," said Laurentia to her maid Wong Toewâ.
When the two cups of fragrant coffee stood before the pair, and each had cut a piece of bread, had buttered it, and spread upon it a thin slice of smoked venison, the lady, still anxious to have her answer, asked:
"Well now, Gulpie dear?"
"If I am ever to succeed in getting more out of the opium contract," said he musingly, "I shall probably want van Nerekool's help."
"His help? What? for the opium contract?" said Laurentia, with an innocent smile, as if she understood nothing at all about the matter.
"Just listen to me," replied her husband. "If Lim Ho, in that matter, you know, of Ardjan, should be found guilty and condemned--why, then, his father Lim Yang Bing must, of course, be excluded from the competition altogether."
"Why so?" asked Laurentia.
"Don't you see why?" retorted van Gulpendam--"If for no other reason; then simply to shut the mouth of the papers. What a row they would make if the father of a man found guilty of opium-smuggling and of a barbarous outrage moreover, should have the monopoly granted him. Why it would be worse than the noise about the capstan when they are heaving the anchor!"
"But, my dear," objected Laurentia, "do you think that at Batavia they will trouble themselves about the barking of the local papers?"
"Yes and no," replied the Resident. "The curs themselves will be despised no doubt; but still, in self-defence, they will have to order an inquiry."
"And you will be the man to hold it, won't you?" said Laurentia, with a meaning smile.
"Possibly I might be, but what if the Dutch papers were to take up the cry?"
"Oh, the Dutch press!" said Laurentia, disdainfully. "It is pretty tame on the subject of opium. It will never join in a cry against it unless it be actually compelled."
"Yes," said the Resident, "that's all very fine, but one never can tell how the cat may jump, or what secret influence may be at work. If Lim Ho is found guilty, it would most certainly be advisable that his father should not bid at all for the monopoly."
"But," said Laurentia, "he is the wealthiest of the Chinese Company."
"I know that as well as you do," grumbled her husband.
"Put him aside, and your bids will fall instead of rising," insisted his wife.
"No doubt they will--"
"And then, my dear Gulpie," said Laurentia, with a laugh, "you may whistle for your bertes knabbeldat."
"Just so," said he, moodily.
"But, if that be so," persisted Laurentia, "it seems to me that Lim Ho must not be found guilty. He must be got off at any price, that's my way of looking at it."
"You are perfectly right, my dear," replied the Resident, "and it is precisely for the purpose of getting him off, that I shall want van Nerekool's help. If he should become our son-in-law--or if the mere prospect of such a thing were to be held up to him--then--I have already told you, that I intend--as soon as Zuidhoorn is out of the way, to appoint him president of the court pro tem."
"Yes," broke in Laurentia, hastily, "but he won't hear of it."
"Won't hear of it?" said her husband, slowly, and in surprise.
"No, he won't hear of it."
"How do you know that?"
"Well," said Laurentia, "I will tell you. When last night I found these two young people hugging and kissing in the garden, I sent Anna about her business."
"Yes," said the Resident, very anxiously, "and then--"
"Then I just took the opportunity of sounding the young gentleman."
"Of sounding him?" cried van Gulpendam in dismay.
"Aye, my word was 'sounding'" replied Laurentia, very quietly, "but I tell you there is no dealing with that fellow."
Thereupon Laurentia told her husband pretty accurately what had taken place the night before in the Pandan grove and under the Tjemara trees, and reported to him the conversation she had there held with Charles van Nerekool. She omitted to tell him--very prudently too--that if she, by chance, had had to deal with a man of laxer morals and principles, she would have run great risk of becoming her daughter's rival. When her story was ended, her husband heaved a deep sigh and throwing himself back in his chair he said:
"Oh those women, those women! You have gone to work much too rashly," continued he. "You ought to have tacked about instead of running. No doubt you had a fair chance before you--a very nice south easterly trade--but you have thrown it away. You have gone full tilt at your object, and so have overshot your anchorage!"
"Oh, bother your tacks and runnings and trades and anchorages," cried fair Laurentia, out of patience, and vexed beyond measure to find that all her fine management was so lightly spoken of. "You just let me alone, that's the best thing you can do."
"But," said the Resident, "you have spoilt the whole job!"
"There was not much to spoil in the job, I can tell you, there was no doing anything with that booby."
Very bitterly indeed did the fair woman speak these words. If but her Gulpie had been able to seize the meaning of her smile. But after all the French realistic school may be right when it says that there is no blinder thing in the world than a husband. At all events, poor van Gulpendam did not see, or he did not understand that peculiar smile.
"No doing anything with him, you say? Ah, well, who knows. Just listen to me, Laurie. It is just possible, nay it is probable that, after such a conversation, van Nerekool will shortly--to-day perhaps or to-morrow--come and ask me for our Anna's hand."
"Well," said Laurentia, "what then?"
"Then I shall see," replied her husband with a self-satisfied smile, "then I shall see what port I must steer for. I may, perhaps, know how to bring him to his bearings. I may be clever enough to drive him into some harbour of refuge."
"I hope you may," said Laurentia, incredulously, "but I very much doubt your success."
"Meanwhile," resumed van Gulpendam, "you must use all your influence with Anna. It is very likely that van Nerekool will give her a hail before he makes up his mind to board me. Now, should that happen--why then all may be well--You understand me, Laurie, don't you? Anna must be our strongest ally."
"But," cried Laurentia, "would you really give our dear, beautiful child to that sanctimonious young prig?"
"I must, if I can't manage it otherwise; but, you see we are not on that tack just yet. If once we get into a good steady trade, and we have got what we want--why then, we shall no doubt find some means to get Anna to go about."
Laurentia nodded. How little did these two parents know their own child!
"And," continued the Resident, cynically, "to heave the love-stricken simpleton overboard as so much useless ballast."
"Hush," said he, "here she comes!"
"Good morning, Anna, my darling. You have slept soundly, I daresay, after your night's dissipation. How she did enjoy herself! How the little corvette ran from the slips! Why! you did not miss a single dance!"
Anna, to use her father's favourite phraseology, was thoroughly taken aback. Her father then, had heard nothing at all about it--absolutely nothing! After her adventure in the garden, she quite anticipated stern faces in the morning, and was prepared for a good scolding. That, indeed, was partly the reason why she had lingered so much longer than usual in her room. And now, lo and behold! her father greeted her more kindly and more cheerfully than ever before. Perhaps mamma had had no time to make the serious communication. No, that was hardly possible, her parents had been for a considerable time together in the pandoppo, she knew that from Dalima. And yet--well--she replied to her father's hearty greeting with an equally hearty kiss, and was just turning to her mother when van Gulpendam said:
"That's right--now I have had my breakfast, I have had my morning kiss--now I must be off to work, there is plenty of it waiting for me. I must leave you ladies alone."
"Anna," continued he, more seriously, "listen attentively to what your mother will have to say to you. Remember you must take all that she will tell you as if it came from me. Good-bye, Anna, good-bye, Laurentia."
And off he was, through the inner, into the front gallery, where he met his private secretary who had been, for some time, waiting for him. He shook hands, offered him a cigar, took one himself, and proceeded with great care to light it at the match which his oppasser respectfully offered him. When it was well lighted, he handed the taper to his subordinate, who addressed himself as carefully and as systematically as his chief to the important function of lighting his cigar.
This done, the two officials walked for awhile up and down the roomy gallery, discussing the morning's news, and making arrangements for the day's work which lay before them.
Meanwhile, nonna Anna had exchanged her customary morning greeting with her mother, and had sat down by her side at the breakfast table, while baboe Dalima offered her the cup of coffee which she had poured out at the little side-table.
"It is nice, miss Anna," said she, with a pleasant smile to her youthful mistress.
Anna gave her a friendly little nod, took up the cup, and slowly sipped the fragrant decoction, now and then passing the tip of her tongue over her rosy lips as if unwilling to lose the least drop. When the little cup was empty, she handed it back to the baboe, with the words:
"Another cup."
"Engèh, Nana," answered Dalima, as she took the cup and hastened to the side-table.
Then Anna buttered a slice of bread; but she did this so slowly and deliberately, with such an amount of concentrated attention indeed, that it was clear her mind was not upon what she was doing. In fact, she dreaded the opening of the impending conversation. Laurentia sat next to her daughter not speaking a single word; but keeping her eye constantly upon the girl. Very steadily she looked at her, and very kindly too. She sat admiring the pure, fresh complexion of the young girl, who, although she had passed a great part of the night in dancing, and had probably slept but very little during the remaining portion, was still as clear and bright as ever. She admired also her slim yet well rounded form, admirably set off by the pretty kabaja, and she sat calculating to what extent those charms might have captivated that cold and pensive van Nerekool, to what extent they might force him to bow his neck under the yoke which was being prepared for him. But, if the mother's eye brightened as she looked upon her daughter's beauty, yet, amidst all this admiration, one sad thought would come up to her mind. More than a quarter of a century ago, van Hoop gave that thought utterance when he said:
"Daughter a-courting--mother grows old." And then there came over her a feeling of jealousy, as she thought of the manly beauty of Charles van Nerekool, who had treated her with such strange indifference. Would she have to give up all hope of entangling that young man if he could be made to despair of ever obtaining Anna's hand?
But--away with all such idle thoughts and fancies. The words of her husband were still ringing in her ears. Her business was to save the son of the opium-farmer, if she wished to see her dear Gulpie's breast adorned with the bertes knabbeldat.
Thus, in silence, the daughter and the mother sat side by side. The former could not trust herself to speak, and tried to hide her confusion by affecting to be wholly engrossed in her breakfast, for which, if the truth were told, she felt but very little appetite. The latter sat collecting her thoughts, and making up her mind how best to make the attack.
At length, Laurentia began in the most affectionate manner.
"Anna, my dear child, now just tell me what could have induced you to walk about in the garden alone with Mr. van Nerekool last night?"
"Mother," stammered the girl, in dire confusion.
"You need not blush so, my dear child," continued her mother; "I saw quite enough yesterday to tell me all that is going on. But that does not make it clear to me how you formed that attachment. I fancy, Anna," she continued, "I fancy I have some right to your confidence, have I not?"
"O mother!" cried the poor girl, "I cannot myself explain to you how it all happened."
"But, Anna!"
"I love Charles," cried Anna, wildly; "I love him, that is all I know about it!"
"But tell me, Anna, have you ever seriously asked yourself whether you feel for him that deep and lasting affection without which no woman ought to permit the addresses of any man?"
"Yes, mother."
"Have you asked yourself whether this man, who has for the moment gained your affections, is the one to whom you are prepared to devote your whole life?"
"Yes, mother," replied Anna, bravely, "yes, mother, for my love for him rests entirely on the noble qualities which distinguish him from all others. It is his honest heart especially which has won my love."
"Now all this, Anna," resumed Mrs. van Gulpendam, "is somewhat frivolous."
"Frivolous, mother!" cried the young girl; "do you call it frivolous that my eye has been open not to mere outward show, not to the mere superficial varnish and polish of society; but to genuine and substantial qualities, to sterling firmness of character and to honesty of principle?"
"Tut, tut, tut!" exclaimed Laurentia, "these are mighty fine words indeed."
"Do you disapprove of my choice, mother dear?" asked Anna.
"Disapprove," said Laurentia, gravely, "no, my child, it is not I who disapprove."
"Oh! yes; I know that papa is not at all fond of Mr. van Nerekool!"
Mrs. van Gulpendam made no reply to this exclamation.
"Have you loved him long?" asked she at length.
"Yes, mamma; my love for him has grown without my knowing it."
"Come now, Anna," said Laurentia, with a sad incredulous smile, "come now."
"I do assure you," pleaded the girl, "it was altogether without my knowledge."
"How then, and when did you discover that you were in love with him?" persisted her mother.
"You know, mamma, do you not? that he used to visit here frequently--very frequently."
"Well, yes," said Laurentia, "I know that; but that is no answer to my question."
"During his visits here," continued the young girl, "I was generally alone in his company. At one time you would be engaged at cards; at another you were surrounded by your friends and taken up in discussing some article of toilette or deep in the secrets of a plum-pudding. At another time again, you, as hostess and wife of the chief man in the district, had to do the honours of the house and had to occupy yourself with generals, colonels, presidents and such like; and amidst all this business you had no time to devote to your daughter--"
"But," cried Laurentia, interrupting her daughter's words; "that sounds very much like a reproach."
"Do let me get on, mother dear," implored Anna; "do let me get on. You have asked me how that affection arose in my heart--I would now lay open my heart to you; you have a right to it; you are my mother."
"Then," she resumed, "I felt myself so utterly lonely in those gay circles in which commonplace, self-sufficiency, mediocrity, and frivolity reigned supreme. I felt myself so lonely in the midst of that buzz of conversation which, to me, had no attraction--in the midst of all those people for whom I had the greatest aversion--"
"Anna, Anna!" cried her mother, "take care of what you are saying. Remember it is your parents' friends and your parents' company that you are thus censuring."
"Is it my fault, dearest mother," continued Anna, "that I feel a distaste for all such society? Have you not often felt the same aversion--tell me, mother dear?"
Laurentia gave no reply; she seemed to devour her daughter's words.
"Go on," said she, somewhat sternly.
"Then," resumed Anna, "I used to slip away quietly to my piano; there I found one never-failing means of getting rid of the company I disliked--then--"
"Oh! yes," said Laurentia, sarcastically, "then my daughter used to plunge into Beethoven, Mendelsohn, Mozart, Chopin and all the rest of them, and neglect the world--"
"No, mother," hastily broke in Anna, "not neglect--but tried for a while to forget the world which for me, as I have said, has no attractions--in the glorious realm of music, which, as a paradise, lay open before me."
"That is a mighty fine speech," said Laurentia, with mocking lip but with moistened eye; for the emotional woman could not, with all her cynicism, remain unmoved at her daughter's enthusiasm. "Very fine, indeed; but, all this, remember, does not explain to me how you first came to discover that you were in love with van Nerekool."
"Among all the company which surrounded you," continued Anna, "there were but very few indeed who could resist the temptation of a quadrille-party, of some political dispute or of a description of a white damask burnouse to--"
"To group themselves around the priestess of Harmony," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, with a good-natured smile.
"To enjoy some better and higher pleasure than the trivial conversation of the so-called beau monde," continued Anna. "Among those few was Mr. van Nerekool, or rather I should say he was the only one; for even if now and then some young man would come and stand at my piano for a moment or two,--he did so--not for the sake of the music, still less for the sake of her who played it--"
"Now, Anna dear!" broke in Mrs. van Gulpendam, "we are getting a little too modest I think!"
"Still less I said," continued the young girl, not noticing the interruption, "for the sake of her who played it; but merely because I happened to be the daughter of the Resident to which some little compliment ought now and then to be paid, and some little politeness was due. All these would run away quickly enough the moment the cards were brought in or the moment they heard some quotation from the colonial news in the Java papers. Then it was that I was left alone with Charles. I found in him a true lover of music, and one who can feel what music means! Thus we were generally isolated in the midst of a crowd, and thus used we to express our feelings in the delicious melody which our fingers could produce--No, no, dear mother," she continued, most seriously, "pray do not smile. On such occasions never one word escaped from the lips of either of us which could convey the slightest hint of what was passing in our hearts. That word might perhaps have remained unspoken; for I am convinced that van Nerekool was thinking as little about love as I was, and that we both felt nothing more than a mutual attraction to one another. But last night--during the Invitation à la valse, our secret slipped out--and oh, dearest mother, you yourself witnessed our first kiss!"
As she spoke these words the young girl gently laid her head upon her mother's breast, who flung her arm around her as she looked into her daughter's appealing eyes.
"And now, mother," continued Anna, softly, "can you forgive your child for having obeyed the voice of her heart?"
"My darling girl," said Laurentia, "not only do I forgive you for what was no more than natural; but what is more, I can tell you that circumstances might arise which would make me fully approve of your choice."
"Approve of my choice, mother!" exclaimed the girl. "Oh, you make me happy indeed!" And kneeling down, she hid her face in her mother's lap and broke out into convulsive sobs which shook her entire frame.
Laurentia, wholly unprepared for this storm of passion, lifted her up and tried to soothe her.
"Come, now, Anna," said she, "try and be calm; try and compose yourself! How can my simple words have moved you so? Could you possibly suspect me of not doing my utmost to secure your happiness?"
"My happiness!" cried the young girl. "Yes, my happiness--yes, dearest mother, that is the right word--it is indeed my happiness," continued she, as she covered her mother's face with kisses.
"Now, Anna," at length said Laurentia, anxious to put an end to this tender effusion, "do sit down quietly by my side, as you were sitting just now, and then with your hand in mine and your eye fixed on mine, we can talk over this delicate matter quietly. Come and sit down here close to my heart."
She pressed her child's head to her bosom. It was a pretty picture, but it conveyed, alas! the exact contrary of the story of the serpent and the husbandman.
"But," asked Anna, anxiously, and folding her hands as if in prayer, "do you think papa will ever give his consent?"
"I think he may," replied Laurentia.
"Oh, that would be a blessing!" cried Anna. "Don't you think, mammy dear, that would be too great a blessing?"
"No, Anna, not at all, now listen to me. Your father will not be very easily won, in fact we shall have to take him by storm."
"Dear mother," cried Anna, "have you not spoken to papa about it yet?"
"Not only will it be hard to gain him" continued Laurentia, coldly, without noticing her daughter's interruption, "but something would have to happen by which van Nerekool might conciliate him."
"I feel certain, dearest mother," cried Anna, "that Charles will do anything to obtain my hand!"
"Do you?" asked Laurentia. "He would do anything you say. Are you quite sure that you are not just a little too sanguine?"
"Oh, mother dear!" cried the girl in a deprecating tone.
"Yes, I said too sanguine; for I have some reason to fear that Charles is not quite so deeply in love as he would wish you to suppose."
"Mother!" cried Anna, looking up at her reproachfully.
"Don't interrupt me, Anna. Last night, as you know, I remained for some time in the garden with Mr. van Nerekool after I had, from his own lips, heard the confession of his love."
"Mamma dear!" cried the young girl, breathlessly, "his confession did you say!"
"Now pray don't excite yourself," said Laurentia with an icy smile. "After he had confessed his attachment to you--I opened to him the prospect, not only of obtaining your father's consent--"
"Oh, mother, dear, how kind of you," now sighed the young girl as she covered Laurentia's face with kisses.
Laurentia gently put her aside and resumed: "I opened to him not only the prospect of gaining your father's consent; but I further proposed to him a means of greatly improving his own position, and of thus making his marriage with a girl like you, more possible."
"A girl like me?" asked Anna in surprise. "Am I then unlike all other girls that a marriage with me would be less possible?"
"My dear child," said Laurentia, "listen to reason. You know that from your childhood you have been brought up in the midst of a certain degree of luxury,--now surely you would not like to renounce all these comforts, to which you have been born and bred and--"
"For the man I love I would sacrifice anything!" eagerly cried the girl.
"Yes, I know," replied Laurentia coldly, "all that reads very well in a novel; but you will not find that it will stand the test of experience. In practical everyday life the saying is but too true: 'When poverty enters at the door, love flies out at the window.'"
"Oh!" cried Anna, "there is no fear of that with me and Charles."
"That is all very fine," continued Laurentia, "but we, your parents, we who have to entrust your future happiness to a husband, we must take care that that husband can offer you a home free from the anxieties of poverty. Now we were in hopes that we might have met Mr. van Nerekool half way in this matter--But--"
"But--what mamma? oh, tell me what he said."
"Why, he had only one word to say--and that word was 'never.'"
"Never," cried Anna, "I do not quite understand you, mother. You told me that he confessed to you that he loves me--you showed him some prospect of winning my hand and he replies 'never!' How can that possibly be?"
"I placed a condition before him," said Laurentia somewhat nervously.
"A condition!" cried Anna, "what might that be?"
"Well--it was a condition of marriage--if you will have it plainly."
"And--" cried Anna, "to that condition of marriage he replied 'never?' I am more puzzled than ever."
"It was after all but a very trifling matter," said Laurentia, "it was merely just a little thing to please your father and, by complying with it, Mr. van Nerekool might have helped your father to win honour and glory--and, moreover, he might have considerably improved his own position."
"Oh, dearest mother," said Anna, "there must be some misunderstanding, Charles is a noble fellow--it is the true nobility of his soul which mainly attracted me to him--Why! not many weeks ago he promised to help me in saving the lover of my baboe and would he now--?"
"What?" exclaimed Laurentia, "the lover of your baboe?"
"Yes," replied Anna, "of baboe Dalima. But what has that to do with it?"
"That is the very case!" cried Mrs. van Gulpendam, "I was recommending him to--"
"Well, then you see," said Anna, quietly, as she interrupted her mother, "you see clearly there must be some misunderstanding--all that will very easily be explained. Tell me, pray, what condition did you propose to van Nerekool?"
"Yes," said Laurentia slowly after a moment's pause, "you are the only one who can arrange this matter. And, pray remember, that this is a question upon which depends van Nerekool's future career--and your own marriage."
And then, the proud ambitious woman told her daughter that she was bent upon obtaining for her husband the order of the Netherland's Lion; that this distinction, however, would not be got unless the returns of the opium trade at Santjoemeh improved considerably--that in fact the Virtus nobilitat was to be the price for the increase in the revenue of Holland.
"But," continued Laurentia, "in order to make that increase possible, Lim Yang Bing must continue to hold the opium monopoly--and that he must cease to do if his son Lim Ho be found guilty of smuggling and of outrage upon the natives. Therefore we are under the cruel necessity--!"
As her mother began to speak Anna listened attentively; as she continued, the girl sat with her eyes fixed on her mother's lips as though she would read the words before she uttered them; at these last words, she flew up wild and furious and passionately broke in upon Laurentia's speech: "Ardjan is to be sacrificed, that my father may get the Netherland's Lion--that never--no, mother, do you hear me, that cannot--that shall not be!"
"But, Anna!" exclaimed Laurentia much alarmed at her daughter's violence, "pray do not excite yourself so!"
"And did you make that proposal to Charles?--Yes? Oh, then I am wretched indeed!"
"But, Anna--" Laurentia began to say.
"Now I understand his 'never,'" said the girl bitterly. "No, he is right, never, never shall he marry the daughter of such parents as mine!"
At these words she dashed out of the pandoppo and locked herself in her own room.
XIII. A RIDE TO BANJOE PAHIT. AMOKH!
"Now are you ready to start?"
With this question, Edward van Rheijn came rushing into van Nerekool's room on Saturday afternoon.
"Yes, I am quite ready," answered his friend; "but how about horses?"
"Oh! Verstork has taken good care of that," was van Rheijn's reply, "if you will let me send out your servant for a few moments you will have them prancing at the door in less than ten minutes."
The young men had not long to wait, for they had scarcely time to drink a glass of beer and light a cigar, before two excellent saddle horses made their appearance. They were well-bred Makassars, not so perfect in shape, and handsome to look at as Kadoeërs or Battakers; but good serviceable animals with broad, well made chests, indicating both strength and endurance, and provided with good sinewy legs which, if not particularly symmetrical, were strong and fit for hard work.
In a twinkling, the young men were in the saddle.
"And now, your rifle?" said Edward.
"Sidin, give me the gun," said van Nerekool to his servant.
The man handed to his master the splendid rifle which, at his request, the regent of Santjoemeh had lent to the judicial functionary.
Charles slung the weapon by the strap over his shoulder, put a couple of revolvers into his holsters; so that, as far as arms went, he was almost as well off as his friend van Rheijn. A few moments later, the pair had left Santjoemeh, and at a brisk trot were riding eastward in the direction of Banjoe Pahit, which was their destination.
They did not talk much by the way, in fact only a word now and then passed between them. There was indeed no very great inducement to conversation; for, though the road they were following was fairly well shaded by Tamarind and Kanan trees, yet the tropical heat was most oppressive, and would not much decrease until the sun was nearing the horizon. But it was only three in the afternoon, so that the orb of day was still far from the end of his journey.
The horses, however, were high-mettled and indefatigable and kept up a good pace, at a trot where the road was level, and breaking into a gallop, when it ran up hill. The noble animals very seldom required to be pulled up to a walk, and could not long be kept to that pace to which they were but little accustomed. Moreover, the scenery through which the two friends were passing might well, in every sense of the word, be called enchanting. First their road lay through pleasant looking dessas, whose dark roofs of atap-leaves and golden yellow fences, formed a most agreeable prospect in the midst of the dark foliage of the fruit trees which completely overshadowed them. Next came plantations of cocoa-nut trees where the slender palms planted in regular rows, lifted up high in the air their waving plume-like tops, and cast curious ever-changing shadows on the turf which covered the ground. Further on still, as squares on a vast chess-board, were seen the extensive rice-fields, the dikes or mounds which bounded them richly overgrown with grass or shaded by toeri or klampies bushes showing quite distinctly, while the rice-fields themselves lay, at this time of the year, glittering in the sunlight, like so many huge water-tanks; for after harvest they are flooded, and then present an aspect of molten silver enclosed in frames of bright green. Then behind the rice-fields arose the stately mountains which densely covered with virgin forest, formed a deep band of dark-green around the glittering squares. Further on again, in the far distance, all became indistinct, and assumed a uniform deep purple hue which contrasted sharply and most beautifully with the light azure of the sky above. Now and then, after the horses had had a long stiff gallop up a more than usually steep slope, they would require a few minutes' rest; then the riders upon looking back, caught glimpses of the Java sea which lay on the horizon, shining under the sun's beams like a boundless mirror on which the white sails of the ships appeared as hovering sea-gulls, or the thick smoke from some steamer's funnel curled darkly over the watery expanse.
Thus, our young friends had but little time to notice the intensity of the heat. Their's was still that happy time of life in which man is most capable of enjoying all that is grand and beautiful. Both of them also were of a somewhat poetical nature, and the ever-varying scenery which to the right and to the left lay stretched out before them, could not fail to captivate and charm them by its sublimity and its beauty. Time had indeed flown with them, when, in the neighbourhood of a small dessa called Kalimatti, they caught sight, in the distance, of four gentlemen, followed by a numerous escort all mounted and spurring on to meet them.
"Hurrah!" cried van Rheijn, "there is William Verstork. Look, Charles, that man yonder on the fine iron-grey riding at the head of the party!"
"Who are those with him?" asked van Nerekool--"Why if my eyes don't deceive me--they are August van Beneden, Leendert Grashuis, Theodoor Grenits and--by Heaven--yes, Fritz Mokesuep also!"
"You are right!" shouted his companion, "and escorted by the wedono, the djoeroetoelies, the loerah, the kebajan, the kamitoewag, the tjank (native chiefs) good Heavens!--by all the district and dessa-grandees of Banjoe Pahit and their whole suite! And," he continued, as he drew nearer, "upon my word all in full dress on their little horses, with tiger-skin saddle-cloths and richly embroidered red velvet or cloth saddles. Hurrah, capital fun!" cried Edward van Rheijn, greatly excited as he waved his pith helmet to the advancing troop.
"Hurrah, hurrah!" shouted the others gleefully, and soon the group of horsemen had joined the two friends and greetings and welcomes were warmly exchanged.
"You seem to be out of spirits, Charles," said Verstork to van Nerekool as he shook his hand; "what is the matter with you, old fellow--I hope you are not ill?"
"No, thank you," replied the other, "I am perfectly well. I will tell you by-and-by what ails me."
"Mr. van Nerekool is suffering perhaps from the effects of a refusal," remarked one of the young fellows who had accompanied Verstork.
The controller cast a look at his friend and noticed at once that the random and heedless shaft had struck home. He therefore at once changed the conversation and said, "If you are not unwell then let us forward to Banjoe Pahit."
"Gentlemen," he cried, "by threes trot!" and a moment after he gave the word "Gallop!" just like some old cavalry officer.
There was no need of the spur,--the fiery horses at once dashed forward, and away went the little band of friends galloping down the avenue which lay stretched out before them, and which, with its soft carpet of turf, hardly gave out a sound under the horses' hoofs.
"Capital road this," cried one of the company. "It speaks highly for the care the controller takes of his district!"
William Verstork gave him an approving nod, he was evidently by no means insensible to the compliment.
"Good means of communication, my friend, are the highways to prosperity," replied he sententiously.
"No doubt," observed another with a scornful smile, "if the population is allowed to make use of them!"
Behind the party of European horsemen, at the distance prescribed by etiquette, followed the native chiefs with their retinue. They were all mounted on spirited little horses of pure native breed, which were quite able to keep up with the pace of the others, and might perhaps, in a long journey, have outstayed them.
Now, while this cavalcade is rapidly moving on to Banjoe Pahit, we will seize the opportunity of making a slight acquaintance with the companions Verstork had brought with him. We will do this in as few words as possible, as some of them, at least, are only casually connected with this narrative.
Augustus van Beneden was a native of Gelderland, a fine healthy looking fellow of about twenty, whose yellow curly hair and firm, yet open countenance were characteristic of the inhabitants of the Betuwe. He was a barrister by profession, and had lately settled down in Santjoemeh where he was beginning to get a fairly good practice.
Leendert Grashuis, a South-Hollander, held the position of deputy surveyor at the land registry office of Santjoemeh. He was an excellent mathematician, and had greatly distinguished himself in the geodetic and geomorphic sciences. As surveying engineer, his services were invaluable in all questions which had to do with the fixing of the boundaries of property in the residence. When he entered upon his duties, he found the whole matter of boundaries in the most utter confusion--a confusion, which became only worse confounded, when, in settling disputes about real property, the official maps had to be produced and appealed to. When called upon to give his decision, Leendert Grashuis always was on the side of right and equity, and offered the most determined opposition to all manner of rapacity or exaction, even should it happen to be the Government itself which made the encroachment. He was about seven and twenty years of age, and upon his agreeable exterior, good-nature and perfect sincerity were so plainly stamped, that he was a universal favourite with all who had the privilege of knowing him.
Theodoor Grenits also, was a man of a similar nature. He was a native of Limburg, and, in his intercourse with his neighbours the Belgians, had acquired a good deal of the free and easy manner of that nation. He, therefore, was more especially in request in company where youth and pleasure presided. He had received his early education at the Athenæum at Maastricht, and had then gone to Leyden to complete his legal studies. But in these studies, he had most signally failed. Now he was employed in a merchant's office, and was striving, by strict attention to his work and by diligence, to make up, in a mercantile career, for the time he had wasted at the University. But, though no great student, he also was a right noble and honest young fellow, and in thorough sympathy with the company in which we just now have met him.
Fritz Mokesuep, however, was a man of totally different stamp, and was in every way the very opposite of the others. He was about thirty years old and was a clerk in the revenue office at Santjoemeh. Education he had none; for at a very early age his father had placed him in the office of a tax-collector in a small provincial town in Holland. This want of education necessarily closed to him the prospect of rising in the social scale, which, however, he was very ambitious of doing. An opportunity had offered, which he thought would enable him to attain his object. The Colonial Secretary, having need of the services of men acquainted with certain special branches in the collection of the revenue which were at that time badly managed in Dutch India, offered to send out thither a certain number of men thus specially qualified, without demanding any further examination whatever. Of this offer Mokesuep had taken advantage, in the hope that adroitness and suppleness of spirit might, in those far-away possessions, supply for him the place of more solid attainments. In this hope, however, he was doomed to be disappointed, for, having on his arrival in Batavia, been placed as third clerk in the department of finance, he had very soon given abundant evidence of the exceeding narrowness of his views and abilities; and thus he was packed off to Santjoemeh in the capacity which he was now still occupying there, and which bid fair to be his "bâton de maréchal." He was literally a "tax-collector" in the least favourable sense of the word; and, upon his naturally depraved character, the very nature of his office had had a still more depraving effect. He was artful, cunning, hypocritical, and thoroughly false by nature. His only pleasure in the world was to scrape and to hoard, and he scrupled not to employ any means, even lying and cheating, to gratify his passion. This grasping instinct of his came out, of course, most strongly in his mode of collecting the taxes; and the narrowness of his mind showed itself in the petty annoyances with which he was perpetually plaguing all those with whom he came into official contact. His greatest enjoyment was in extorting the last half-cent though he would never protect anyone against demands however excessive. On the contrary, the Indian Government might safely reckon upon his co-operation, whenever money had to be squeezed out, even though it might be by means the most arbitrary and the most unjust. His outward appearance, was entirely in harmony with his character. His head was small, gradually growing narrower towards the top, and was sparsely covered with chestnut hair, which he wore plastered against the temples, in two elegant curls by means of bandoline, gum, starch, fishlime, or some such abomination. His face was long and angular, and wore that faded yellow look which sometimes, a towel will assume when allowed to lie for a long time unused, in a drawer or cupboard. His nose was well-formed and sharp; but with the projecting lips of his small mouth, it formed a profile something between that of a baboon and a ferret--at all events, it plainly enough indicated that he belonged to the family of the rodentia. That was the reason, perhaps, why he was familiarly called Muizenkop (mouse-head). Not a vestige of hair or down appeared on his chin or lip--in fact a Jesuit father might have envied him his sallow faded complexion. How could a man like William Verstork have ever admitted such a fellow into his company? The reason was obvious. Mokesuep was the strict letter of fiscal regulations incarnate, and as the controller wanted to have as little as possible to do with the narrow minded quibblings of the financial department, he had attached this man to his staff, who, if he did not always give him the best advice with regard to excise questions, at all events protected him against unpleasant remarks.
While the reader has been occupying himself with these very slight personal sketches, the cavalcade had traversed the distance which lay between the dessas Kalimatti and Banjoe Pahit, and now was just entering the latter place.
Banjoe Pahit, a large dessa, pleasantly situated in a mountainous part of the island had, on that afternoon, in honour of its expected guests, donned its festive attire. On all sides the inhabitants appeared out of doors, even the women and children all in their very best apparel which they generally wore only on Fridays. At the flag-staff, which stood in the grounds of the Controller's quarters, a brand-new Dutch flag was flying. The Wedono, the Loerah, and other principal men of the dessa--aye, even the public vaccinator and the Mohammedan priest had followed that example, and expressed their zeal on this occasion, and their goodwill, by hoisting the tricolor by the side of their houses on the bamboo pole from which usually a dovecote used to dangle. The cymbals also were sounding merrily, and imparted to the demonstrations of the inhabitants, who all had turned out to welcome the strange gentlemen, a very characteristic and local stamp.
"Upon my word," cried Edward van Rheijn, once again, "capital fun--our Controller is giving us a grand reception--that is a good beginning."
"I have no hand, whatever, in that fun," replied Verstork. "The people are rejoicing because you have come to rid them of the swarms of tjellings, which ravage their fields to a frightful extent. You will see how enthusiastically they will turn out to-morrow to help us in beating up the game."
The cavalcade had now entered the grounds, in which stood the Controller's house, and the riders were dismounting.
"Gentlemen," said Verstork addressing van Nerekool and van Rheijn, "I bid you welcome to my poor dwelling." And then more generally to the company, he said: "We shall take a few minutes to make ourselves comfortable after our hot ride, and have a bath, and then it will be time to sit down to dinner."
"So early as this?" asked one of the guests.
"To be sure," replied Verstork, "for after we have had something to eat--which meal you must take as a hunter's dinner, substantial but short--we shall have to get into the saddle again, to make a reconnaissance at the Djoerang Pringapoes, for we must settle before sunset where our battue will have to start from, and where we shall have to post ourselves and lie in wait for the animals."
"But we shall have the moon to-night, shall we not?" enquired van Rheijn. "I even fancy that it is full moon."
"You are quite right," said Verstork, "and we shall need it, too, on our ride home. Believe me, our arrangements will take up some considerable time; and then we shall all have to turn in early, because to-morrow by daybreak we must be at our posts in the Djoerang, and begin work."
Then turning to two of the Javanese chiefs, who had followed the party into the grounds, he continued: "Wedono and you Loerah, you will both, I hope, presently, ride with us to the Djoerah?"
"Yes, kandjeng toean," was their reply.
"Thanks; you will stay to dinner?"
But, in the most courteous manner possible, both the Javanese begged to be excused;--they had some business to transact at home--at the time appointed, however, they would be quite ready to start.
They did not say--which was indeed the reason of their refusal--that they feared that among the viands pork might be included, or that some of the dishes might be prepared with lard or some other ingredient derived from the accursed and unclean beast.
The sun had just set, when the sportsmen had finished their survey of the principal approaches to the Djoerang Pringapoes, and had made all the necessary arrangements with the two Loerahs of Banjoe Pahit and of Kaligaweh, for placing the marksmen, and other matters pertaining to the morrow's sport.
They happened to be just then in the lower part of the Djoerang, where a small stream, which runs right through the ravine, flows down over its rocky bed, forming a series of small cataracts and eddies which contribute to make the landscape, already a beautiful one, the most picturesque spot in the whole Residence of Santjoemeh.
A few hundred yards off, in the rice-plain, lay the dessa Kaligaweh, bathed in all the wondrous tints with which the setting sun coloured the evening sky, and cast its reflection in the waters of the rice-fields which, here, were flooded as elsewhere. With its trees, its palms, its bamboos, its orchards, which almost entirely embosomed the little yellow-fenced huts, that little dessa casting its image upon the watery mirror, formed a scene of such magic beauty that the Europeans could not tear themselves from so lovely a view. Nor until the glorious tints began slowly to fade away before the rising moon, could they make up their minds to turn homeward.
They were just saying good-bye to the Loerah of Kaligaweh, and were impressing upon him the necessity of bringing up his people early next morning, and were turning their horses' heads and preparing for a sharp gallop back to Banjoe Pahit when--suddenly in the direction of the last named dessa, there was heard a frightful tumult. All started and stood still, and listened in the utmost astonishment. The yelling and screaming continued, and then amidst the confused noise made by the shrieks of women and children, the dreadful word, "Amokh, Amokh!" (murder) was distinctly heard.
"What on earth can all this mean, Loerah?" cried Verstork to the chief of the dessa who was still by his side.
"I don't know, kandjeng toean," replied he; "but I will ride off at once and find out."
"Wait a bit," cried another, "here comes a policeman running like mad."
So it was; panting and almost completely out of breath one of those canaries (so called from their yellow braided uniforms) came running up along a pathway which led across the sawah-fields to the Djoerang Pringapoes. As soon as he got up to the group of horsemen he squatted down by the Controller's horse and made the sembah.
"Kandjeng toean," he panted, "they are running Amokh in the dessa yonder. One bandoelan has been already krissed and a policeman severely wounded."
"Who is running Amokh?" cried Verstork.
"I don't know, kandjeng toean," replied the man. "Women and children are flying about yelling and screaming and I hurried off at once to fetch the Loerah; but as I ran along I heard that Setrosmito is the murderer."
"Setrosmito!" exclaimed Verstork in utter amazement. "What, old Setrosmito? Quite impossible; is it not, Loerah?"
"No, kandjeng toean," was the chief's reply.
"But the man is much too quiet a fellow for that," continued the Controller. "Moreover, he is not given to opium smoking, is he?"
"No kandjeng toean," was the cautious reply.
The screaming still continued, and though it was already growing dusk, people could be distinctly seen running about wildly in the dessa.
"Come, gentlemen," said Verstork to his friends, "my presence is required yonder. Will you come with me? If we make haste we can get there in a minute or two."
"All right," cried the young men with one voice; "lead on, we follow you."
There was but one of the little party who ventured to ask: "Is it quite safe, do you think?"
That man was Mokesuep; but his objection was lost to the others. They had already followed Verstork's example, and digging their spurs in their horses' flanks were tearing along the road to Kaligaweh.
Mokesuep had not, however, made up his mind. He was not quite so rash as that. Dreadful tales of "Amokh runners" were crossing his brain. For a moment or two he stood irresolute not well knowing what he had better do; but just then the shrieks redoubled while the gongs were beaten furiously. That was quite enough for him. Thought he to himself: "In such cases it is most prudent to take care and keep a whole skin." So he turned his horse, gave it the spurs and galloped off to Banjoe Pahit instead of to Kaligaweh.
As they were riding to Kaligaweh, Verstork thought it well to caution his friends by telling them that in cases of Amokh running the thing is to be on one's guard, and that fear and panic only serve to make matters worse and increase the danger. "At all events," said he, "keep your revolvers ready."
His caution was, however, not needed. When the horsemen came racing into the dessa they met a few frightened women clasping their little ones to their breast as if to protect them; but all the men were standing with lance or kris in hand drawn up around a little hut which was closed, and about which there was nothing in any way remarkable.
"If he comes out we must catch him on our lances," was the cry.
"What is all this confusion about?" cried Verstork, leaping from his horse, throwing the bridle to one of the bystanders, and stepping into the ring.
"Setrosmito has been running Amokh," was the reply from all sides.
"Setrosmito, how is it possible?" muttered the Controller, inaudibly.
But scarcely had he uttered the words, before the door of the cabin flew open and Setrosmito appeared on the threshold.
He was an elderly man with grizzly hair which was flying in wild confusion about his head. His jacket was torn to ribbons and a few shreds of it only hung from one of his arms. His face, breast and hands were smeared with blood, so that the poor wretch looked a hideous object.
"There he is, there he is," shouted the mob. "Now look out!"
Every lance-point was at once thrown forward in anticipation of a mad rush.
"I don't wish to hurt anybody," cried Setrosmito, to his fellows of the dessa. "But let no one come near me to lay a hand on me; the first that touches me is a dead man!"
With so frantic a gesture did he wave his kris, and so ghastly did he look in his frenzy, that the crowd rushed back in dismay. Thus Verstork, who the instant before had stood lost in the press, now found himself standing in the foreground.
No sooner, however, had the unfortunate Javanese caught sight of the white man than he cried out in piteous tones.
"Pardon, kandjeng toean, pardon," and hurling his kris from him he flung himself at the Controller's feet. "Pardon, pardon, kandjeng toean!" he cried again and again.
All this had passed with lightning rapidity--so quickly, indeed, that the bystanders scarcely knew what was going on. When the man besmeared with blood had advanced towards the Controller, many thought that the latter's life was in danger. His friends, revolver in hand, rushed forward to protect him, the natives also were springing forward to despatch the now defenceless murderer. But Verstork calmly stopped them, put the foremost back with his hand, and restrained the others by crying out in a tone of command:
"Back, all of you! Keep back from the man. Do you hear?"
And going up to the crouching wretch, who was still crying in an imploring tone of voice "Pardon, kandjeng toean," he said:
"Have you been running Amokh, Setrosmito?"
"Sir," cried the latter, "I have killed a bandoelan who was acting disgracefully towards my child. Yes, I have done that. I have also wounded a policeman who was helping him in it. Who would have protected my child if I had not done so? But I have harmed no one else. The whole dessa will tell you so!"
Verstork looked towards the crowd.
All stood breathless around; not a word of protest was spoken.
"You confess to having killed a bandoelan and wounded an officer?" asked Verstork, sternly.
"Yes, kandjeng toean," said the poor Javanese, almost inaudibly.
"Wedono," said Verstork, "have this man bound."
"Pardon, kandjeng toean, pardon!" cried the wretched man, when he heard the order. "Pardon! I have only protected my daughter from disgusting ill-treatment."
"You have resisted the authorities, nobody has a right to do that," replied the Controller in a firm and impressive voice. "But, Setrosmito," he continued, "the matter will be investigated by the proper tribunal, and if, as you say, your child has suffered ill-usage--no doubt that will be taken into consideration, and your punishment will be lessened accordingly."
A dull murmur arose in the crowd. They knew by sad experience what kind of justice they might expect from the white man when there was opium in the question. A bitter smile was on every countenance, and many a curse was muttered against that unmerciful race which holds sway over Java and sucks its very life's blood. Now that the people began to see that they had to do--not with a wild Amokh runner who murdered indiscriminately but--with a father who had merely protected his child from outrage, the feelings of the crowd instantly changed and not a man or woman in the dessa but pitied the wretched criminal. But a single commanding look from the Controller and one wave of the Wedono's hand sufficed to repress every sign of displeasure.
"Wedono," said Verstork, "you will have that man carefully guarded--you and the Loerah will be answerable for him; and you will further see that to-morrow morning early, he is taken under properly armed escort to Santjoemeh."
"Pardon, kandjeng toean," again groaned the unhappy father, as the people of the dessa helped to tie his arms.
"The 'Higher Court' must decide the matter, Setrosmito," said Verstork, "I may and I can do no more than my duty."
XIV. A SEARCH FOR OPIUM. WHAT CAME OF IT
To return that night to Banjoe Pahit was clearly impossible. Verstork had to hold a preliminary inquiry into the terrible event which had so suddenly disturbed the dessa, and about this investigation, he was determined to set at once, and to conduct it in the thorough and conscientious manner in which he was wont to discharge all his duties. These were the facts which this inquiry brought to light.
At about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, Singomengolo, the opium farmer's trusty spy, and a Chinese bandoelan had made their appearance in the dessa Kaligaweh. They had proceeded straight to the opium-den, where they had to obtain some necessary information from the men in charge of that establishment. When they had learned what they wanted to know, they went to the Loerah's house; but that functionary was not at home, having been called away, as we know, to make the necessary arrangements for the next day's hunting. So the two worthies had betaken themselves to one of the other members of the dessa government, who granted them the assistance of the local police. Accompanied by a couple of policemen, the Chinese bandoelan went to the dwelling of Setrosmito, the father of Baboe Dalima, and when he got there, he signified his intention of searching the premises.
Said he to Setrosmito: "You never visit the store kept by Babah Than Kik Sioe, you never smoke any opium there, nor even purchase any from him. The opium-farmer has, therefore, come to the conclusion that you manage somehow to get hold of smuggled opium. Anyhow, my orders are to search your house, thoroughly."
"I never go to the den to smoke," was the honest old peasant's straightforward reply, "nor do I smoke opium at home; you will find nothing of the kind under my roof. But do as you like!"
Thereupon, the Chinaman and his two policemen were about to enter, when Setrosmito stopped them.
"No, no," said he, very calmly, "wait a bit. Before you begin, I shall have you fellows searched."
And, turning to some of his friends whom the appearance of the bandoelan had brought about the hut, he said: "Sidin and Sariman, just lend a hand to overhaul these fellows."
The opium-hunters were too well used to such treatment to make any serious resistance, and they submitted to the scrutiny--a scrutiny which was conducted most minutely, but which did not result in producing the least trace of opium. When they had been examined thoroughly, Setrosmito allowed the men to enter his dwelling, and to proceed with their visitation of the premises.
The hunt which ensued was merely a repetition of the scene which had, a short time ago, taken place in the wretched cabin of poor Pak Ardjan; but if no opium had been found upon the persons of the searchers, neither did the Chinese bandoelan, nor his men succeed in discovering the slightest trace of contraband goods in any corner of the house. Just as in Pak Ardjan's case, here again they turned over everything, and ransacked every hole and corner; but not the slightest vestige of opium was found in the place.
At length the Chinaman despairing of success, and very angry at his failure, cried out in a rage: "Where are your children?"
Setrosmito quietly answered, "The children are on the common minding the oxen."
An evil smile played upon the yellow features of the bandoelan, when he heard this man actually was the possessor of a pair of oxen.
In the once thriving dessa Kaligaweh, there were, alas! at present very few of the inhabitants who could boast of owning so much as that. He did not, however, speak a single word; but he left the hut taking his two policemen with him, and went to report to Singomengolo that all their trouble had been fruitless.
When Singo had heard his subordinate's statement, he looked with a contemptuous and pitying smile upon him, as he scornfully said to the Chinaman:
"Much use you are to Lim Ho and Lim Yang Bing! You a bandoelan! You will never find smuggled opium," he continued, in a jeering tone, "you are too clumsy."
"No," was the man's indignant reply, "nor you either, where there is no opium to be found!"
"Come, Keh," said Singo. "Will you bet me a rix-dollar that I don't manage to find some?"
"Quite impossible," cried the Chinaman, "I have turned the house inside out. I have searched the bamboo laths of the walls and roof, and there is nothing--absolutely nothing anywhere."
"Have you looked under the hearth?" asked Singomengolo.
"Yes."
"And in the ashes under the hearth?"
"Yes," was the reply again.
"And have you grubbed up the floor?"
"Yes."
"And have you turned over the baleh-baleh and the cushions?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" cried the man, impatiently. "I am no child, I suppose."
"No, you are no child," jeered Singo, "but you are one of the greatest fools in the world; as stupid as one of those oxen! Now, just you come along with me," he added, after having flung these amenities at the head of his pig-tailed countryman. "Just you come along with me and you will see that my eyes are better than yours. You could see nothing; but I shall manage to ferret out something before long. Those mangy dessa-dogs always have opium about them."
The wretch seemed to forget that in that very dessa he had himself first seen the light; however--that is the way of the world!
So the four men set out once again to Setrosmito's house; and once again, as before, did the Javanese attempt to insist upon searching the persons of his unwelcome visitors before allowing them to enter. But Singomengolo would have nothing of the kind. He refused point-blank to submit to any search. Said he, in his blustering way: "You lay your hands on me and I will thrash you like a mangy cur!" Setrosmito tried to protest; but it was in vain. "Aye, aye," said he, "if that be the case then I have but little doubt that they will find anything they want. I know all about those tricks. Kabajan," he continued, as he turned to one of the chief men of the dessa, who stood looking on among the crowd which was rapidly assembling. "Kabajan, I call upon you to witness what is about to happen here."
But the latter, who had the greatest horror of coming into collision with the wretches of the opium monopoly, made no reply whatever to the old man's appeal, and quietly slipped away.
Singomengolo, with a brutal and defiant laugh, entered the hut with his followers. It so happened that at the moment, Setrosmito's little children also came in. The two boys and their sister had just returned from the common, and opened their eyes wide at seeing so many people assembled round their father's house. The two boys were eight and nine years of age. Like most of the young Javanese children, they had pretty little faces, with the funniest expression in their twinkling and roguish dark-brown eyes; but their appearance was, to a European eye, wholly spoilt by the manner in which their heads had been treated. They were clean shaven except one single tuft of hair of about a hand's breadth, which the razor had spared and which one of the boys wore on the top of his head, and the other over his left ear. They had the well-formed and supple limbs which are characteristic of their race, and were exceedingly slender in the waist. These natural advantages were seen to the greatest advantage since, in accordance with the primitive customs of the island, they ran about completely naked, with nothing on at all except a silver ring round each ankle. The little girl, a child of seven, was remarkably pretty, her well-formed childish face peeping out charmingly under a profusion of jet-black glossy hair. Her arms were bare, and the only clothing she wore was a bright-coloured patchwork apron which was secured round the hips by a slender chain of silver, from which dangled a small ornamental plate of the same metal. When they ran into the hut they found Singomengolo very busy indeed turning over the contents of boxes and prying into pots and pans, while their father was most carefully watching every gesture he made, and was not allowing a single motion of his nimble hands to pass unnoticed. This close attention vexed the wretched spy beyond measure, who thus saw his wicked plan frustrated, because, while those keen eyes were upon his fingers, he could not even attempt to exercise his sleight of hand without being instantly detected. In the hope therefore of distracting the father's attention, Singo made a sign to the Chinaman, who, with his slanting eyes, sat looking at the children and leering most offensively at pretty little Kembang. The man understood the signal and at once seized one of the boys, and, under the pretence of searching for concealed opium, he felt all over their little bodies, under the armpits, in fact, anywhere wherever a little mandat-ball could by any possibility lie hidden. The boys kicked and fought under this disgusting treatment and did all they could to bite and scratch the dirty scoundrel; but not a single cry did they utter which might draw away their father's eyes from the manipulations of Singomengolo. But when the bandoelan laid hold of the girl and strove to tear off her apron, the poor child could not repress a loud cry of terror, she tore herself away from his rude grasp, and flying to her mother, tried to hide herself on her breast, while the poor woman clasped her child in her arms as if to protect it from further insult. It was, however, in vain; the Chinaman with his sickly yellow face came up to the mother and, with the help of his two assistants, wrenched the poor girl from the woman's arms, who was wholly unable to resist their violence.
"Your turn next," cried the Chinaman to the mother, "that young cat has had plenty of time to pass the stuff to you. Keep your seat!"
Then the disgusting scene through which the two boys had passed was re-enacted on this helpless child--a proceeding infinitely more loathsome, inasmuch as its victim was a little creature of the tender sex towards whom the wretch thought he might with impunity act as he pleased.
"Alla tobat!" screamed the poor woman who was compelled to see her daughter thus outraged wantonly before her eyes.
That bitter cry of distress had the desired effect. For a single instant it caused Setrosmito to turn his watchful eyes to his wife; but that single instant was sufficient. Quick as lightning Singomengolo took advantage of it, and slipped his closed hand under the little Pandan mat which was spread out over the baleh-baleh and which, during the search, had already three or four times been lifted and shaken without result. Then, in triumph, he produced from under it a little copper box, and, as he held it up with a theatrical gesture he exclaimed:
"You see that; after all, there was smuggled opium in the house; I knew I should find it!"
Setrosmito turned deadly pale at the sight; he well knew what the Dutch law-courts had in store for him, and the thought of the ruin which thus stared him in the face filled him with rage and fury.
"There was no opium concealed here," he cried out; and in his despair not well knowing what he was doing, he put his hand out mechanically to the kris, an old heirloom which was stuck into the bamboo-wall above the baleh-baleh.
"You dirty dog," he cried to Singomengolo, "it was you yourself that slipped that box under the mat!"
The words had scarcely passed his lips before Singomengolo answered the frantic accusation by a blow with his clenched fist which struck Setrosmito right in the mouth. Maddened with pain and rage the unhappy man plucked the kris from its sheath; but at that moment, suddenly, little Kembang uttered a heartrending scream of pain and horror. That cry saved the life of the opium spy. The poor father looked round as if bewildered at the sound; but when he saw the disgusting leer upon the Chinaman's face and in what an outrageously indecent manner that wretch was treating his pretty little flower, the blood seemed to rush to his head and his rage was at once turned into another direction. A red mist--red as blood--clouded his eyes.
"Help, help, pain, pain!" cried poor little Kembang.
Utterly blinded and wholly beside himself with fury the father, kris in hand, flew towards the miscreant.
"Amokh, Amokh!" shouted one of the policemen, as he saw the flaming kris in the frenzied father's hand.
"Amokh, Amokh!" cried the crowd outside taking up the shout without knowing what was going on inside the hut. Women and children rushed away yelling and screaming in all directions. Soon on all sides resounded the fatal words:
"Amokh, Amokh!"
The men flew home to fetch their lances and krisses, not in the least knowing what really was the matter, but at the mere terror of the sound.
"Amokh, Amokh!" repeated the watchmen as they rushed wildly to the guardhouse and began to make as much noise as they could upon the public gongs.
The policeman who had been the first to cry Amokh, made a frantic effort to draw his sabre; but the blade was so firmly rusted into the sheath that no efforts he could make would draw the weapon. The other policeman who had no time to draw tried to lays hands upon the infuriated Javanese; but as he attempted to seize him, he received a slash across the face and breast which was no doubt but a deep flesh wound; but though not mortal, occasioned so much pain and so much bleeding that the wounded man fell back moaning and was glad enough to save his life in headlong flight. The sight was quite enough for his comrade, and he also took to his heels at full speed.
Then Setrosmito found himself face to face with the ill-starred Chinaman, who had not let go his hold on the little girl and concerning whose outrageous behaviour there could be not the slightest doubt.
"Let her go! let her go, I say!" yelled the father, mad with rage and foaming at the mouth. Whether the bandoelan was utterly bewildered in the presence of such imminent peril, or whether, in his excitement, he did not realise the full extent of the danger; suffice it to say that he did not obey that supreme command. His wan face now made more than usually hideous by passion, wore a vacant and unmeaning smile; still he did not release the girl; but only tried to get her in front of him, and to shield himself behind her.
"Amokh, Amokh!" was still the cry all around.
"Let go!" roared Setrosmito, again; and again the wretched Chinaman replied with a vacant laugh.
"Amokh, Amokh!" resounded the gong with threatening roar.
"Let go!--You won't!--Well then, die like a dog!--" shrieked the wretched father, goaded to madness. And--with lightning speed, before the miserable Chinaman had time to cower down behind the little girl whom he still held before him--Setrosmito drew the well-tempered blade across the fellow's throat.
"Alas, I am dead!" yelled the Chinaman, his eyes wildly rolling in his head. They were the last words he uttered. With convulsive clutch he tried to close the gaping wound in his neck; but it was no use, the blood violently came spurting in fine jets through his fingers, a dreadful fit of coughing seized him, and the torrent of blood which rushed from his mouth covered poor little Kembang from head to foot. Tottering like a drunken man, and still grasping the girl, the wretch, for a few moments, tried to steady himself, but then reeled and fell heavily to the ground in the agony of death.
"Amokh, Amokh!" was still the cry all round the hut.
"Amokh, Amokh!" still harshly roared the gongs.
For three or four seconds Setrosmito, after his dreadful deed, stood gazing about him like a man utterly dazed or in a dream. He at length brought his left hand to his eyes and then slowly he seemed to recover his reason; then he began to realize his position. At his feet there lay the Chinese bandoelan still convulsively twitching in the throes of death; but soon all was over.
All this had passed in an incredibly short space of time, almost with the swiftness of thought; but the room in which the father stood over the victim of his momentary frenzy was already quite deserted; for, with his men, Singomengolo had also taken to his heels. Even the two little boys, who at first had stared at the spectacle hardly knowing what was taking place, had taken to flight in alarm at their father's threatening kris, and the wife had snatched up her little daughter and she also had rushed from the house.
"Amokh, Amokh!" that shout outside sounded in the ears of the unhappy man as his death-knell. He knew but too well of what terrible significance was the fatal word. He knew well that wherever that word is heard, the entire population rushes at once to arms, and that, without stopping to make any inquiry, without even knowing who the man-slayer is, it cuts him down without the smallest mercy, though perhaps he may in reality be guilty of nothing worse than merely defending his own life or protecting the honour of wife or children.
Already a few armed men came charging into the hut with their lance-points levelled at his breast.
"Stand back!" shouted Setrosmito whose rage had not yet had time to cool down. "Stand back! whoever comes nearer I will serve as I have served that wretch!"
The man was evidently in deadly earnest and the kris was waved in so threatening a manner at the words that his assailants turned and fled in alarm and formed up in a close ring around the hut. In that circle there was a great deal of talking, of consulting, of screaming and gesticulating; but there seemed not to be a single man who felt the smallest desire of again crossing the threshold.
It was at this juncture that Controller Verstork came galloping up with the gentlemen who accompanied him and, as we have heard, put an end to the murderous scene by taking the ill-fated man prisoner.
In the course of the inquiry which followed Singomengolo produced the opium which he declared he had found in Setrosmito's house and which, in the interest of the opium-farmer, he had confiscated.
In the small copper-box there was but a very small quantity of the poppy-juice which, when weighed at the opium store, was found to be but fifty matas, that is about eighteen milligrams. It was a brownish sticky mass enclosed in a tiny box which could be easily concealed in the closed palm of a man's hand. The Controller took possession of the box and in the presence of the opium-hunter he sealed it up according to the law.
"Did anyone witness the finding of this box under the mat on the baleh-baleh?" asked Verstork.
"Oh yes, certainly," was the reply, "the Chinese bandoelan saw me find it."
"The man who is dead? Anyone else?" continued the Controller.
"Yes, the two policemen," said Singo.
"Indeed!" remarked Verstork. "These were the men, I think, who, a few moments before could discover nothing?"
"No matter," said the opium spy with great effrontery. "I, kandjeng toean," he continued, "am a sworn bandoelan--I found it there and my word suffices. The testimony of the policemen is altogether superfluous."
The look of utter contempt and loathing which Verstork cast upon him as he spoke seemed to have but little effect upon the shameless spy; for he merely made the usual obsequious salute and as he turned to go, he muttered:
"I shall go and make my report to Babah Lim Yang Bing and to the Inspector of Police."
Then he mounted his horse and rode away seemingly along the high-road to Santjoemeh. Seemingly; for presently it will appear whither he actually did go and what business he had on hand.
As soon as he was out of sight of the dessa he took a pathway to the right which ran through the rice-fields and along that bridle-path he rode across the hilly country and thus took a more direct way to the capital than that which the highway offered. His horse seemed to know the country well and made good progress, so that it was hardly midnight when he reached a lonely little cabin. There he dismounted, knocked up its inmate and sent the man on with a message to Santjoemeh.
When Verstork reached the house of the Loerah who with the Wedono had actively assisted him in his troublesome inquiry, it was about nine o'clock in the evening.
He found his friends assembled there and impatiently awaiting his arrival.
"I say," muttered August van Beneden, "how long you have kept us!"
The young barrister was not in the best of tempers just then for he had been very anxiously looking forward to the promised expedition and now he began to fear that it might not come off at all. Moreover he had, in the Loerah's house, been frightfully bored as he waited for his friend's return.
"I say, how long you have kept us!"
"It was no fault of mine," replied Verstork. "I have had my hands pretty full to-night."
"Besides," he continued, "it makes no great difference; for the more I can get through to-night the less I shall have to do in the morning."
"In the morning?" said another of the company in no agreeable surprise.
"Yes, of course," said Verstork. "Supposing for a moment that in order to keep you company, I had not held that inquiry this evening; but had ridden back with you to Banjoe Pahit as we proposed to do, why--then I must have gone through it all to-morrow morning and then we must have said good-bye to our hunting party."
"To-morrow morning!" echoed Edward van Rheijn. "Would not Monday morning have done just as well?"
The Controller gave the young man a look which evidently was full of displeasure. He had indeed a sharp answer on the tip of his tongue; but he refrained from uttering it, and very quietly replied:
"No, no, Monday would have been too late in a matter of this kind. Remember, we have to do with a case of man-slaughter which is moreover complicated by an opium scandal, and as matters stand even now we shall find this a sufficiently perplexing business."
"And are you quite ready now?" asked van Rheijn.
"Yes," replied the other.
"So that to-morrow morning there will be nothing to detain you?"
"All right, all right!" said Verstork somewhat impatiently.
"And you will be able to take the lead in our expedition, I hope."
"Yes, yes, you need not trouble about that, I have only a couple of letters to write."
"A couple of letters!" cried van Rheijn but half reassured.
"A short report," said the Controller, "to the Resident, and a request to the native prosecutor and to the doctor to come and view the body and to hold the inquest."
"Is not that right, van Nerekool?" continued he, turning to his friend. "That is the proper course to take, is it not?"
"What did you say?" said the young lawyer starting up as from a dream, and passing his hand over his forehead;--lost in anxious thought he had hardly heard his friend's question.
The question was repeated and received an affirmative answer.
"We have a good long ride before us to get back to Banjoe Pahit," remarked Theodoor Grenits, "and to-morrow morning it will be light very early, eh?"
"Certainly it will," replied Verstork; "but," continued he as he looked at his watch, "we must not think of getting back to Banjoe Pahit to-night. It is now quite nine o'clock, and, however brightly the moon may be shining we cannot possibly go faster than at a walk, so that we cannot expect to reach the Controller's quarters before midnight. No, I shall write my official letters here at the tjarik's, they can then be at once sent off by the Loerah. The Wedono will ride back to Banjoe Pahit to get everything ready for to-morrow's work. He has the command of all the beaters there, that has been all arranged and settled and we need not trouble about that, even though we change our quarters for the night."
"That is all very well," said August van Beneden, "but where shall we find these quarters?"
"Well," rejoined Verstork, "we must do the best we can, 'à la guerre comme à la guerre.' There is a small passangrahan here in the dessa which is furnished with a single baleh baleh and we must ask the Loerah to fit it up for us somehow or other."
"To fit it up?" cried Grenits in surprise; "have you an outfitting store here in this out-of-the-way place?"
"No, no, my worthy disciple of Mercury," replied Verstork with a laugh, "that kind of establishment would do but a very poor business here. If we can lay our hands upon a few pillows and a couple of mattresses we must think ourselves very lucky."
"A couple of mattresses for the seven of us," grumbled van Beneden who was by no means unmindful of his bodily comforts, "that is but a poor allowance I fear."
"For my part," said Verstork, "I am quite ready to give up my share. I prefer the baleh baleh. It will not be the first time I have slept on one; and slept very soundly too I can tell you. The others must draw lots. But--"
"But what?" asked van Rheijn.
"Someone just now spoke of seven," replied Verstork. "It seems to me we are but six--Who is missing? The deuce! where is Mokesuep?"
"Yes," cried a couple of others, "where has Mokesuep got to?"
"He was off like a shot as soon as he heard the cry of Amokh," said van Rheijn laughing. "I saw him when we turned for Kaligaweh riding back full speed to Banjoe Pahit."
"Now, I call that prudence with a vengeance," remarked Grenits.
"Prudence! Is that the right word do you think?" asked one of the others.
"I don't care," said van Rheijn, "I am heartily glad we have got rid of the fellow, for the time, at all events. I say, Verstork, how in the world did you manage to get hold of such a sneak as that?"
"Oh," replied Verstork, "I often find the fellow useful. He is thoroughly up, you see, in all excise quibbles; and I think it best to keep in with him. You can all understand that--can you not?"
"Well," said van Rheijn, "I wish he would be off altogether and go right on to Santjoemeh."
"No," said Verstork, "I don't think he will do that."
"Wedono, will you see to it that Mr. Mokesuep is called early to-morrow morning?"
"Yes, kandjeng toean," replied the native.
"And now, gentlemen," said Verstork, "I must leave you for half an hour or so to the care of the Loerah, he will make you as comfortable as he can--won't you, Loerah?"
"Yes, kandjeng toean," was the invariable reply.
A few minutes later the sportsmen had taken possession of the passangrahan, while the Controller sat in the small verandah of the tjarik's house busily writing his letters.
XV. UNDER THE WARIENGIEN TREE. IN THE OPIUM-DEN
The passangrahan did not turn out so very bad after all. The Loerah had managed to get together six mattresses and, somewhere or other, he had found six pillows also. Whether these things were clean or not, the miserable flicker of the little oil-lamp which hung in the middle of the apartment, did not reveal. The Loerah, however, had surpassed himself--he had actually provided six chairs. Very crazy and very tumble-down certainly they were; but they were not wholly unfit for use, and in a dessa like Kaligaweh might be looked upon as "objets de luxe."
But the young people did not feel the slightest inclination to turn in, they were as yet too much excited by the events they had just witnessed to think of going to sleep. So they brought out the chairs upon the aloon aloon in front of the passangrahan, and having seated themselves in a circle they made themselves as comfortable as circumstances would allow and lit their manillas. There was, of course, no question of getting anything to drink in the shape of wine or beer, still less possibility was there of obtaining a glass of grog. Unless there are Europeans settled in a dessa, such liquors are nowhere to be found. But the Loerah had supplied for the refreshment of his guests an ample quantity of cocoa-nut milk, and that drink was pronounced most excellent. Indeed it is a most delicious and very refreshing beverage when it is obtained from a young nut before the flesh has had time to set and harden inside the rind.
Very soon the little circle of friends was comfortably seated under a gigantic Wariengien tree, the tall branches of which spreading out far and wide on all sides formed a canopy which covered nearly the entire space of the aloon aloon, and offered a most grateful shade by day, and a shelter also against the heavy dews of night.
From the majority of the horizontal branches there grew down a number of shoots, some as thick as a man's finger, others no thicker than a pipestem, others again as fine as whip-cord. These shoots, as soon as they reached the soil, struck root and then rapidly increasing in girth, formed, as it were, a number of pillars which helped the old giant to bear his dense mass of wood and of foliage, and greatly enhanced the beauty of the venerable tree.
The firmament above was of the deepest blue, and wonderfully pure and clear. In that vault of Heaven innumerable stars glittered and twinkled in spite of the moon which, now about her full, was shedding over the peaceful scene her soft and placid radiance.
But nature, though so calm and placid, was by no means silent. The air was full of sounds, the strange mysterious music of a tropical night. A gentle breeze was rustling in the branches, and amidst the countless leaves of the colossal wild fig-tree was thus forming, so to speak, the groundwork of a concert produced by a host of invisible artists. In spite of the late nightly hour, a wood-pigeon would now and then come flying home into the crown of the Wariengien tree, and be welcomed on its return by the soft cooing of its mate. Sometimes a solitary cock would start up and, beguiled by the bright moonbeams, would utter his shrill musical crow, fondly imagining, no doubt, that he was heralding the dawn of day. Every moment was heard the sharp, piercing squeak of the swarm of bats, which, in their hunt for insects under the canopy of leaves, glided about in a giddy maze of intersecting and intertwining circles, ovals, spirals and ellipses. Sometimes again from afar came the dismal cry of the flying dogs, as on soft inaudible wing they swooped down upon some fruit-tree in the dessa and quarrelled for the possession of some choice manga. But all these sounds, some musical, others harsh, might be looked upon as the solo-parts in the nameless humming concert which prevailed on all sides and of which the performers were invisible to human eye. In that nightly hour, wherever the ear might turn it heard a constant quivering and throbbing sound, sometimes rising to such a pitch that it unpleasantly affected the ear, then again dying away like the scarcely perceptible murmur of the breeze in a cornfield, and then suddenly ceasing for a moment or two as if to allow the rustling of the leaves to be heard for an instant; but only to join in chorus again with renewed vigour as if wishing to drown all other sounds. This was the chirping of millions upon millions of the greenish orange kind of grasshopper, which perched on every blade of grass on the aloon aloon, and hanging from every leaf of the immense tree, caused that sharp thrilling mass of sound which at times made the air literally quiver with its intensely sharp notes.
Did the young men there assembled pay any heed to this mysterious melody? Did they lend an ear to those notes which, in the tropics, make the midnight hour more tuneful than the dull and heavy noon, when the sun, in his full power, makes all nature thirsty and silent? Had they an eye for that delicious night, with its soft breeze, its glittering firmament, its quiet but glorious moonlight, its quaint and pleasing shadows? It is doubtful whether they heard or saw anything of all these. Indeed, they were wholly engrossed in conversation, and that conversation most naturally ran upon the events of the day. The dreadful scene of social misery at which they had been present was far too powerful to be dismissed from their thoughts. That murder scene was talked over and turned about, and looked at from every point of view; but, the few hurried words with which Verstork, before he went off to write his letters, had explained the matter to his friends, had filled them, one and all, with the deepest pity for poor Setrosmito, and for his family, in their bitter affliction.
Said Grashuis: "What untold misery does that detestable opium-policy bring upon this, in other respects, so richly blessed island? Is it not enough to make one hide one's head with shame at the thought that a considerable portion of the Dutch revenue is derived from so foul a source?"
"Tut, tut," interrupted van Beneden, "that foul source, as you call it--I suppose you mean the opium-revenue--is in no way different from any other tax levied on an article of luxury."
"Granted," replied Grashuis, "but, who made the inhabitants of the Indian Archipelago acquainted with that luxury?"
"That's more than I can tell you," said the other. "I daresay it is with opium very much as it is with drink; whence did we get the products of distillation? Who first discovered them? I fancy it would be no easy matter to find a satisfactory answer to those questions. One thing, however, is quite certain, that the Dutch nation is not responsible for the discovery of opium."
"That's true enough," replied Grashuis, "but I hardly think that a mere negative certificate of that kind will be accepted as a proof of good conduct."
"No, certainly not," interrupted Grenits, "for our conscience, though it is clear of the charge of having discovered the drug, by no means acquits us of the more serious charge of having introduced and imported it, and--"
"Come, that's all nonsense," cried van Rheijn, "that is a mere assertion of yours, which will not stand the test of inquiry. If you will look into Band's well-known 'Proeve,' there you will find that the Orientals, such as the Turks, the Persians, the Arabians, and the Hindoos, have been for many, for very many centuries, addicted to the use of opium. It is, therefore, most probable that when the Dutch first came to India, they found the habit of opium-smoking already established."
"You are quite wrong, my worthy friend," cried Grenits, interrupting him. "You are quite wrong, for this same Band, whose authority on the subject I am as ready to admit as you are, expressly declares that he has not been able to discover when opium began to be used in Dutch India. Now, this confession is, in my opinion, most significant, coming from so distinguished a statesman as Band. For, surely, if he had been able to prove in his treatise on opium, that its use was common when we first arrived there, he would, for the sake of our national honour, not have concealed so important a fact, but, on the contrary, have made the most of it. But I go further than this. Later on in his book, Band goes on to say that when in the sixteenth century Europeans first began to show themselves in Indian waters, the use of opium was known only in the Moluccas, and that, as regards the rest of the Archipelago, its abuse existed only among a very few foreigners, who had settled down in the different sea-ports."
"Well," asked van Rheijn, "but must we not look upon that as the expression of a mere private opinion? What do you say?" he continued, turning to van Nerekool. "Band, you see, was an opponent of the use of opium."
Van Nerekool was, however, wholly engrossed in his own thoughts, and made no reply to the question. He seemed, indeed, not to have heard it at all.
Grenits, however, at once broke in and said:
"What? Band an opponent of opium? Where in the world did you get that from? Certainly not out of his book, which throughout is written in a spirit of the strictest impartiality. He cannot help mentioning the deleterious effect of the poppy-juice; but he does so with the utmost caution, and I defy anyone to discover in his treatise the merest hint at a scheme, or even at a proposal for counteracting its abuse. Just now you called Band's opinion a personal one. Well, so far as the introduction of opium is concerned, no doubt that opinion is personal; but, it is an opinion which has been confirmed by the testimony of a host of distinguished travellers of his day. Read, for instance, the voyages of such men as van Sinschoten, Cornelis Houtman, Wijbrandt, van Warwijck, and so many others, all countrymen of ours, and illustrious men of our heroic age, and you will find that Band does not, by any means, stand alone in his opinion."
"I say," cried van Rheijn, not too civilly, "where the devil does a merchant like you get all that information from?"
The discussion was, in fact, arousing some of that jealous feeling which everywhere exists between the official and the mercantile classes; but which is stronger, perhaps, in Dutch India than elsewhere.
Grenits replied very quietly, "It is precisely in my capacity of merchant that I have found it necessary to study, not only all the products of the Archipelago, but to gain all possible information also about the imported articles of commerce which are likely to produce the greatest profits."
"That is exactly what opium does," remarked van Rheijn, "and, for that reason, I presume that the trade would like to get it into its own hands."
"What the trade may like or may not like," replied Grenits very coolly, "I neither know nor care. As far as I myself am concerned, I would not, if I could, derive any profits from so foul a source; and I feel quite certain that many, very many men in my position are of the same opinion. As a proof of the truth of my words, I point to the fact that, as far as I know, no European firm has ever made a bid for the opium monopoly."
"Indeed," said van Rheijn, sarcastically, "and how then about the Netherland's Handelmaatshappij?"
"The Handelmaatshappij" replied Grenits, "is a very recent offshoot of the East India Company of unblessed memory, and is entirely identified with the government. It is, as a matter of fact, nothing more than the shopman in the government's grocery store. The opium monopoly is carried on by the State, and it is, therefore, no wonder that the 'Companie ketjil' (Javanese name for the Handelmaatshappij) did undertake the supplying of opium. But this European Company did not long occupy the honourable position of opium-farmer. According to Band, the government did not make sufficiently large profits out of the monopoly, and it was therefore decided to put it into Chinese hands. These Chinamen knew how to carry on the abominable traffic, and have brought it to the highest degree of development. Looking at the question from another point of view, and considering the names of the men who at that time were members and directors of the Handelmaatshappij, I cannot help thinking that men so illustrious were not at all sorry to see so dirty a source of profit closed to them."
"What are you talking about!" exclaimed van Rheijn, "with your 'dirty source of profit?' Does not the Company trade in gin? Does not your own firm deal in alcohol? And you, when you get to be head of a firm, will you give up all trade in spirits, and all the profits it brings in?"
"Oh," cried Grenits, "now I see! you are one of those many men who place abuse of opium on the same line with abuse of strong drink. But, mark what I say, all those who, whether here or in Holland, argue thus, are doing infinitely more mischief than they are aware of. Some few of them, no doubt, know the real merits of the case, and are perfectly competent, therefore, to measure the mischief they are doing. All such men are actuated by personal motives; they have a certain object in view, it may be of advantage or of ambition. But by far the greater number speak thus merely to please, merely to gain the approbation of their hearers. The good people in Holland like to listen to such arguments. They are pleased when they hear men who have been in India, and therefore, of course, know all about it, say, with an air of easy superiority: 'Oh, that opium is not so very great an evil after all. All over the world, man sometimes needs a little stimulant. Just look at our good Mr. Pastor, he surely has the welfare of his flock at heart, yet he does not grudge a man a modest glass or two of gin. Let us follow that spiritual example, and let us not grudge the poor Javanese his opium-pipe. Opium and gin, why they come to very much the same thing in the end!' Yes, to such arguments men open their ears willingly enough; for, though the opium monopoly may be a dirty source of revenue, yet it does bring in lots of money; and men are only too pleased to hear, that after all they have been needlessly disquieting themselves, and that there is really no need of putting an end to so considerable a source of gain."
"Well, my good friend Grenits, you must pardon me for saying so; but I also am one of those who not only silently approve of the argument, but who are prepared openly and loudly to maintain that gin and opium, inasmuch as they are both intoxicants, stand on precisely the same level. I maintain that the abuse of either is injurious, and that the one does not much more harm than the other."
It was August van Beneden who thus came to the rescue of van Rheijn. The latter looked round triumphantly, as he exclaimed:
"Hear, hear! You see, gentlemen, I am not the only one who holds those views. Bravo, August!"
"Of course," said Grenits, quickly, "you are quite right in saying that spirituous liquors are injurious for--"
"I say, Grenits," cried Grashuis, with a laugh, "mind the members of your club at the Hague don't hear that."
"For," continued Grenits, without paying any heed to the interruption, "for the abuse of spirits also arises from a craving after pleasure and oblivion and proves a want of will-power to resist that craving, even when its satisfaction is purchased at the price of self-respect, domestic happiness and health. To deny that, would be to prove myself ignorant of the labours of Father Matthew, and so many other friends of total abstinence. But, you will pardon me if I adhere to the opinion I have already expressed, that in thus placing the abuse of opium on the same level with the abuse of alcohol shows an ignorance of established facts and an ignorance also of the literature of our colonies with regard to opium. For, remember, my friends, our own countrymen, such men as van Linschoten, Valentijn, Band, van Dedem and I do not know how many more stigmatise opium as an aphrodisiac--as a powerful means of exciting unclean passions. Van Linschoten in the account of his travels, plainly speaks of certain effects of the abuse of opium which, though we are men together here, I could not venture to repeat; and foreign travellers most fully confirm his testimony. The learned Chinaman Li Schi Ischin in his Chinese Pharmacopoeia, which was written as early as 1596, tells us that the common people in China, made use of opium chiefly as an aphrodisiac. The German traveller Miklucho-Maclay in 1873, after he had made personal experiments at Hong Kong in opium smoking, has noted down certain details with which I cannot bring myself to pollute your ears. Now all this ought, I think, to give us much food for reflection. And when we find men like Rochussen, Loudon, Hasselman, van Bosse, and many others, who, the one as Governor General, and the other as Colonial Secretary, some of them in both capacities, have stood up in their place in parliament, and have openly spoken of opium as an evil, as a most terrible evil, indeed as a poison and a pest, why then, I think, it will not be very difficult to come to the conclusion, that the effects and the consequences of the abuse of opium are of a different nature altogether, and are infinitely more fatal than those which result from the abuse of alcohol."
"Would you not like," said van Beneden, "just merely for the sake of experiment, to try opium smoking? I, for myself, very much wish to know what its effects really are."
"So would I," said van Rheijn, "and we could make the experiment easily enough."
"How so?" asked Grashuis. "For us Europeans, opium is not easy to get, and surely we could not go to the opium den and smoke there, and make ourselves a laughing-stock of the people."
"No, we could hardly do that," said van Rheijn; "but among my acquaintances, I count one Lim Ho the son of the great opium-farmer. I know, if I ask him, he will procure me a few madat balls."
"Contraband, I suppose," said Grenits, with a laugh.
"You know those opium farmers are the greatest smugglers!"
"What does that matter?" said van Rheijn. "Opium is opium I suppose; I shall, no doubt, be able to get a pipe, and as soon as I have got the things, I will let you know, and then we shall meet at my house. We shall draw lots, and the one upon whom the lot falls, shall submit himself to the experiment, while the others look on, and make notes. Is that a bargain?"
"Aye, aye!" they all cried, all except van Nerekool, who was still abstracted, and deeply plunged in his own thoughts.
"Meanwhile," continued van Rheijn, "I feel bound in fairness to confess that our friend Grenits has defended his position in a most masterly way. Indeed I must say that I had not expected to find so much knowledge in matters concerning the opium monopoly, in a commercial man."
Grenits merely smiled, it was a bitter smile; but he was too much accustomed to such remarks from members of the official corps to take offence at them.
"But," continued van Rheijn, "with all his arguments, he will never persuade me that opium is a cause of greater misery, and that opium is a greater curse to a country than strong drink."
While this discussion had been going on, Verstork had written his reports and had sent them off to the authorities at Santjoemeh, and he had got back to the passangrahan in time to hear Grenits speak of the evils of opium smoking. He also heard his friend van Rheijn make his last assertion. He thereupon at once put in his word.
"Well, gentlemen," said he, "we have just now the fairest possible opportunity of satisfying ourselves as to the truth of Mr. Grenits' argument. The opportunity is, in fact, too good to be neglected. You are here in one of the most wretched of all dessas which are the victims of the opium-monopoly. It is not very long ago that this same Kaligaweh was remarkable as one of the cleanest, neatest, and most prosperous of all our Javanese villages. Now, look round about you. Everything is neglected, and is falling into decay. The huts are, almost all, tumbling to ruin--the roads, which lead to the dessa, and which run through it, are mere pools of mud, and of the well-trimmed and beautiful hedges, which once separated these roads from the fields, not a vestige now remains. It is hardly ten o'clock as yet, and the opium-den is not yet closed. The inhabitants, moreover, are in a state of excitement owing to that murder, and are also disturbed by the presence of so many European gentlemen. They are, therefore, wide awake. In the opium-den you will be able to feast your eyes, and satisfy your curiosity."
At the proposal all the young men had jumped to their feet--all but van Nerekool who, with his head still resting on his hand, seemed unconscious of what was going on around him.
"Come, Charles," said Verstork, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder, "come, Charles, you will come along with us, won't you?"
The young lawyer started as if awakened out of a dream.
"Where are you going to?" asked he, with so genuine an air of surprise, as made it evident that he had not heard one word of what was going on around him.
Said Verstork, "We are off to the opium-den."
"To the opium-den!" cried van Nerekool, in a tone of alarm, "to the opium-den, surely you are not going--"
"To smoke," said Verstork. "No, no, my friend, you need not be alarmed, we are only going to have a look. But," continued he, "gentlemen, you must make up your minds to see some very unpleasant sights, for, I think, to-night the den happens to be very full.
"But, wait a bit, if you intend really to gain some insight into these opium matters, we must--"
And, turning to one of the policemen who was always in attendance, he said:
"Sariman, run and call the two Chinamen of the opium-store--tell them I want to speak to them, at once."
"Very well, kandjeng toean."
"One moment, gentlemen! Otherwise you would miss the most interesting part of the show."
They had but a very short time to wait, for the two Chinamen came running up as soon as they received the message:
"Come, quick, quick, the noble noble lord calls you!"
When the Chinamen reached the group, Verstork said to his friends:
"Now, then, gentlemen, let us go."
"But," said one of the Chinamen, in a somewhat insolent tone of voice, when he saw that his presence was wholly ignored, "But you sent for us, sir."
"Hold your tongue, babah," said Verstork, briefly; "we are going to pay a visit to your opium-den. You come along with us."
"To the opium-den!" cried the babah, "then I will go, and--"
"You stay here with me; both of you," said the Controller in a tone of authority which they dared not disobey.
The two Celestials interchanged looks; but they did not utter one word, and silently followed the gentlemen.
The opium-den at Kaligaweh lay behind the chapel at the eastern extremity of the aloon aloon. The visitors, therefore, had but a couple of hundred yards to walk before they reached that noble establishment licensed by the Dutch rulers of the soil.
No, certainly, it was not a proud building, raising its head majestically, in the glorious consciousness of being one of the many suckers which replenish the Dutch exchequer. Not at all. Its outward appearance would not lead anyone to suspect that it was one of the conduits of the great opium monopoly--that fearful force--that section pump, which pours millions upon millions into the treasury.
No, a thousand times, no! It was a squalid, filthy little bamboo building, which looked like an old tumble-down barn or shed. The walls were partially rotten by long neglect, and gave out the peculiar musty smell of decaying bamboo. The roof, bulging in here and there, threatened to fall in upon the heads of the visitors within. The entire structure was a picture of decay and desolation, and the inside of the den completely corresponded with its pitiful exterior. The space within those mouldy walls and that half-rotten roof was extremely low, and the damp atmosphere was not only stuffy and close, but was permeated with the offensive sickly sweetish smell which is the invariable and unmistakable characteristic of burning opium. The floor of the den was the bare ground and the soil had not even been levelled and beaten down as is the case in almost all Javanese cabins; but was most uneven, great black lumps sticking up all over it which the bare feet of the Javanese and the hard soles of the Chinamen had polished till they looked shining as marble.
Here and there, the smoky gleam of a dirty petroleum lamp revealed a wet patch or a little pool of greenish brown water of most suspicious appearance which affected most unpleasantly the organs both of sight and smell.
As the gentlemen were about to enter the low door of the den, one of the Chinamen tried to utter a note of warning; but Verstork, who was keeping an eye on him, would not let him utter a sound and in a threatening tone of voice whispered to him:
"Be quiet, babah."
When the visitors had entered they found themselves in a small square apartment at the end of which was a partition with two doors and a small opening.
"That door," said the Controller, who acted as guide, pointing to one of them, "opens into a little room in which one of the storekeepers generally sits, and through that little square opening hands to the customers bits of red paper covered with Chinese characters. The buyers of opium have to pay ready money for one of these tickets which represents a greater or smaller quantity of tjandoe according to the price paid. With that bit of paper the purchaser then vanishes through that other door."
"What a beastly hole, to be sure!" remarked Grenits.
"Oh!" replied Verstork, "this is only the anteroom. Wait until you get inside and then you will see something much better than this."
Thus speaking he pushed open the second bamboo door which did not turn on hinges but was fastened to the door-post with loops and ran squeaking and scraping along a bit of smooth wood. This door gave access to a narrow passage which would have been in total darkness but for the hazy light of a few wretched oil-wicks which could only just be seen glimmering, through the chinks of the bamboo partition on either side. In this passage the atmosphere was still more stuffy and the nasty smell of the madat still more nauseous. The floor of the passage was so uneven, so slippery and so indescribably filthy, that it required the greatest care to keep on one's legs at all, and to prevent oneself from slipping down full length into the soapy mud. This passage ran down the centre of the barn and on either side of it were rows of pens twelve in number, the entire barn being thus divided into twenty-four partitions. The partition walls did not exceed four or five feet in height, so that from one pen one could easily look into another. These compartments had each a door which opened upon the passage in which the European visitors were standing.
"May we open one of these doors?" asked van Beneden, as he stretched out his hand to one of them.
"You may not, sir!" cried one of the Chinamen who, having noticed the gesture, understood the meaning of the question.
"Hold you tongue, will you!" said Verstork, in a loud tone of voice. "You be off, out of the place altogether."
And after the Chinaman had disappeared, he turned to his friends, and said: "I do not think you will care to go into those filthy holes. We can see well enough what is going on inside through the chinks in the partitions and doors, indeed, I believe, we shall thus see more than if we were to enter."
"Look," continued he, "there you have a smoker in the first stage of intoxication."
Yes! there, on the baleh baleh, lay a Javanese. There he lay on the only article of furniture which the den could boast of, stretched out full length, and half reclining on his side. He had thrown off his head-cloth, and his Long black hair floated over the disgustingly filthy pillow on the bench. His eyes, which betrayed his ecstatic condition, were half closed, and every now and then, he brought with his right hand the bowl of his opium pipe to the tiny flame which was flickering on a bit of wick dipping in a little saucer of oil. As he did so his head, partly supported on his left hand, would be slightly bent forward, as he took the thick bamboo stem of the pipe between his lips. Then, very slowly, he inhaled the smoke of the kindling opium. After a few puffs, he put down the pipe and turned over on his back, his head thrown back upon the pillow. The smoker now closed his eyes entirely, and strained with might and main to swallow the smoke he had inhaled. As soon as he had succeeded in doing this, he lay quite still while a look of satisfaction and enjoyment passed over his countenance. That look of satisfaction, however, offered the strangest contrast with the whole exterior appearance of the man, even with the features on which it appeared. Before lying down on the baleh baleh, he had flung aside his vest, and now lay covered only by his shirt which was the filthiest and most loathsome rag imaginable.
The man was as lean as a skeleton, and would have been admirably fitted to take his place at the Danse Macabre. The faint light of the little palita showed every rib in his body, and the dark shadows which they cast, showed how deep were the cavities between that trellis work of bone. His arms were like sticks encased in brown leather-like skin. His legs were not visible, being covered by the sarong; but the appearance of the feet, which protruded from under the garment, proved that like the arms the legs also were nothing but skin and bone. When the man had, for awhile, held the smoke which he had swallowed, he blew it out again very slowly through his nostrils, a proceeding which it took some time to accomplish--then he turned over on his side and appeared to fall into a deep sleep. At that sight a female form, which had been crouching in one corner of the compartment, and had thus remained unnoticed, rose up and made for the door. The poor creature had been present there all the time--In her haste to leave the wretched little apartment, she nearly ran up against the European gentlemen.
"Oh, heavens! the devil!" she cried; but, in the darkness, she could not recognise anyone, and so she hurried into a neighbouring recess.
In that recess, the spectacle was more horrifying still. There, stretched out on the baleh baleh, lay an old Javanese. He was as angular, as emaciated, and as much wasted away, as the other man; but he was in another stage of intoxication. He had smoked more than one madat ball, hence he was in a different state of ecstasy. His hollow, sunken eyes glittered with unwonted fire; his breast heaved, and his face wore a bestial grin, the lower jaw protruding far beyond the upper stamping the features with the mark of the brutal passions which were raging within. The upper part of his body also was bare, but the violence of the passions which possessed him caused his entire frame to heave and quiver, and had made him cast aside even his sarong, so that now he lay there in the state in which the patriarch Noah was discovered by his sons.
No sooner had the creaking door given admittance to the woman than he called out sharply to her:
"Where have you been all this time? Come, make haste, get me another pipe."
The wretched creature obeyed without a murmur. She advanced to the baleh baleh, took some tandjoe out of a small box, warmed it at the flame of the palita, and then mixed it with a little very finely cut tobacco. Then she rolled it in her fingers into a little ball about the size of a large pea, put this into the bowl of the opium pipe, and handed it to the wretched smoker.
During these operations, and when she leaned forward to hand him the pipe, the miserable smoker, no longer master of his passions, and wholly unable to restrain himself, had acted in a manner so outrageously indecent, that Grashuis cried out:
"Oh, this is too revolting! Come, let us be off, I cannot stand it any longer."
Just at that moment a cry was heard a little further down the half-dark passage.
"Good God, this is most infamous! Is it possible--Let us get out--Let us get out, friends--fire from Heaven will fall upon us and consume us!"
It was van Beneden who had walked a few steps further down the passage, and had been peering into one of the recesses down there. Now he wildly rushed out of the place, dragging his friends almost by main force along with him.
"What in the world is the matter with you?" asked Grenits.
"Oh, I can't tell you what I have seen," cried August van Beneden, hardly able to speak plainly in his excitement. "Come along."
"Now no false modesty," said Grashuis; "we have come here on purpose to gain what information we can about the horrors of opium, and so each one of us must tell his experience. What was it you saw, Theodoor?"
"Don't ask me," cried Theodoor Grenits. "It is really too abominable; such things must not be uttered--And the victim--was a little Javanese girl--she struggled frightfully."
"Aye," said van Rheijn, "I thought I heard screaming."
"And can we do nothing? Come, Verstork, you as Controller--"
But Verstork restrained his companions who were preparing once again to rush into the den.
"I shall take good care," said he, "not to meddle in any opium matters. They, at Batavia, would very soon find me wholly unfit to hold any government appointment and, however revolting a deed may be, I should find no support in van Gulpendam my superior officer at Santjoemeh. My whole career would be ruined--No, my friends, I must let things take their course."
"But," cried Grenits, "I am not bound by any such considerations--I will--"
"You will keep quiet I hope," said Verstork to his friend who was trying to make his way once again into the opium den. "Remember that I am in your company, and that even if you went in there quite alone you would still compromise me by your rash and foolish action. I beg you therefore--Here! you see the child is coming out."
As Verstork spoke a little Javanese girl hardly ten years of age came rushing out of the loathsome den, she sobbed and moaned as she ran past the European gentlemen.
"Oh this is fearful--this is fearful," cried Grenits, "and then to have to stand still while such horrors are going on! I should like to--But--" continued he as he turned to van Beneden, "will you still maintain that opium is in its effects to be compared to drink."
August van Beneden did not reply; but the deepest indignation was visible in his countenance.
"Come," said Verstork, as he tried to calm his friend, "let us not remain standing here, men, women and children are beginning to crowd round."
"Those people," cried Grenits, "were just now looking on at those filthy scenes through the chinks of the bamboo walls."
"And," said van Beneden, "the opium farmers did not try to prevent them, but seemed on the contrary to encourage them. I could see it all plainly enough."
"Come," said Verstork again, "let us be off. Let us go and sit down again under the Wariengien tree. Oppas," continued he to one of the policemen who always kept near him, "you go and tell these dessa people that they are to go home--it is time for all to go to sleep."