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Title: Baboe Dalima; or, The Opium Fiend

Author: M. T. H. Perelaer

Translator: Edwin James Venning

Release date: November 21, 2019 [eBook #60751]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
        Gutenberg (This book was produced from scanned images of
        public domain material from the Google Books project.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BABOE DALIMA; OR, THE OPIUM FIEND ***




Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This book was produced from scanned images of
public domain material from the Google Books project.)









                            BABOE DALIMA;
                                 OR,
                           THE OPIUM FIEND.


                                  BY
                            T. H. PERELAER

                   TRANSLATED FROM THE DUTCH BY THE
                       Rev. E. J. VENNING, M.A.








                                LONDON:
                 VIZETELLY & CO., 16 HENRIETTA STREET,
                             COVENT GARDEN.
                                 1888.








BABOE DALIMA;

OR, THE OPIUM FIEND.


CHAPTER I.

AT MOEARA TJATJING.


It was a terrible night in February 188-.

A violent storm from the north-west was raging along the northern coast
of Java. The wind howled and roared as though a legion of fiends were
holding Sabbath in the black mass of clouds which were driving along.

The waves of the Java sea were running mountain high, and came
curling into the beach in monstrous billows topped with mighty
crests of dazzling foam. These crests were brightly phosphorescent,
and each breaker, as it came rolling in, for an instant shed a pale
fantastic shower of sparks upon the black seething waters, leaving,
the next instant, the blackness darker than before. The sea-coast
on which our story opens formed here, as in so many other places in
Java, an extensive marsh, the slimy clay of which the influence of
the tropical sun had clothed with a most curious kind of vegetation.

Had it been day, the eye, as far as it could reach, would have
rested upon thousands upon thousands of tree-tops, closely packed
together, and rising about thirty feet from the soil. The stems of
these trees did not reach the ground, but rested on knotty roots,
which, like arches, grew out of the earth. These roots were divided,
branching out in all directions, so that the trees might be likened to
many-footed creatures, the supports or legs of each of which crossed
and recrossed with those of its neighbour. Thus looking along the
ground might be seen a kind of tangled network under a thick canopy
of green, and that network again was entwined with gigantic creepers,
hanging in festoons from the singular archways and climbing upwards
into the tops of the trees.

By daylight, between those myriads of twisted roots forming, as it
were, a gigantic labyrinth, there might have been seen a swarming
mass of living things, unsightly and loathsome, which would have
filled the beholder with wonder and disgust.

There, among thousands of other living beings, lay the sluggish
alligator glaring at its prey with fixed and stony eye. There countless
tortoises and "Mimis" were crawling and darting about in quest of
food. There swarmed monstrous crabs and shrimps of all kinds, varying
in size from that of the largest lobster to the almost microscopical
sea-spider. All these in millions were wriggling in the filthy ooze
which was formed of the detritus of this singular mangrove forest. In
the mud which clung about the roots, these hideous creatures lived and
teemed, not perhaps in a state of perfect concord, yet maintaining an
armed kind of peace which did not prevent them from becoming allies
whenever some unhappy victim, whose luckless star had cast upon that
shore, had to be overpowered.

Close by the narrow strip of land, where, not only in storms but
in all weathers, land and water seemed to strive for the mastery,
there stood a small hut hidden away completely among a clump of
"Saoe" trees. These trees grew there, the only ones of their kind
amidst the gloomy forest of mangrove.

Surrounded by the dense foliage as by an impenetrable wall, the hut was
completely invisible from the land. On the other side it commanded a
wide view of the sea; but even there it was screened from observation
by its position among the leaves.

We called it a hut,--it was, indeed, little more than a large sentry
box, and it, most appropriately, bore the name of "djaga monjet"
or monkey-perch. It was put together in a very primitive fashion,
and was covered with "Kadjang" mats and "attaps," both of these rough
building materials obtained from the Nipah palm.

The "djaga monjet" was built in the morass on piles which raised it
some considerable distance from the ground. Thus the waves which now
and then threatened to swallow up the fore-shore altogether, could
freely wash about under it, and break and divide against the firmly
driven stakes. The trunk of a tree, with some rough steps clumsily
cut into it, served as a ladder and gave access to the hut which,
at the time this tale begins, was wrapped in the deepest darkness,
but which yet was not tenantless.

Two voices might have been heard issuing from the doorway. The speakers
fancied they were talking in a confidential whisper; but the blustering
of the storm had gradually led them on to raise their voices, so that
now they were yelling at each other rather than conversing.

That, however, was of very little consequence. At such an hour,
and in such fearful weather, no human being would have dreamed of
prowling about there. The most zealous coastguard's man would have
declined that duty.

The men in the hut were talking in Malay, but they might, without
difficulty, have been recognised for Chinamen. Their guttural
pronunciation, the difficulty with which they sounded the letter
"r," which with them indeed was spoken as "l," and a certain lisping,
weakly, altogether most unpleasant accent, put the matter beyond doubt.

Yes, they were two Chinamen who, sitting in that little watch-house,
were eagerly, in the pitch dark night, scanning the angry sea before
them.

"No," said one of them, after a considerable interval of silence--"No,
there is nothing whatever to be seen. In such weather, it would be
simply tempting fate. You may be quite sure that the Kiem Ping Hin
is snugly lying at anchor at Poeloe Karabab. She would never think
of starting in such a storm."

"You may be right," replied the other, "but the master's orders were
most positive. We are posted here on purpose to help the men of the
Kiem Ping Hin to get their cargo safe ashore."

"That is true enough, Than Khan, and we shall get our pay, I daresay;
but, for all that, you cannot deny that she cannot possibly come
in to-night. Just hark how the wind howls, hear how the breakers
roar--our perch is shaking like a reed. How would you like to be out
on such a night as this?"

"I," cried Than Khan, "not for all the money in the world. But still
we know the old Arab Awal Boep Said--he is a tough old sea-dog,
and no weather will--"

"Look out!" cried the other; "there, just there! You see that big
curling wave yonder! Look, you can just see it by the light of the
foam. Yes, by Kong! A 'djoekoeng!'"

"You are right, Liem King," replied Than Khan, "it is a 'djoekoeng'"
(a boat made of a hollowed tree-stem). "There were two persons in her,
both Javanese--I fancied a man and a woman."

"Yes," said Liem King; "the man was rowing hard, the woman seemed
frightened, she had her hands up to her face."

"The 'djoekoeng,'" shouted Than Khan, "was heading for the shore;
but she can never get through the breakers."

"I am not so sure of that," replied Liem King. "She was making
straight for Moeara Tjatjing, if she can only keep that course,
she may pull through."

"Why," said Than Khan, "in such a sea as this, no boat can live,
she must be swamped. A rare feast for the boajas, eh?"

"That 'djoekoeng,'" said Liem King, "will get through safe enough. I
made her out to be a surf boat, and you know it takes a good deal to
upset them."

"No doubt," said Than Khan, "for all that, I am glad enough I am not
in her."

"Look out," shouted the other. "Look, there she is again, yes,
she is making for the Moeara. If she can get behind the 'bow-nets'
she is safe enough."

"If she can get under the lee of the bow-nets, perhaps, but, but--"

"Another boat," exclaimed Liem King. "There are white men in her."

The words were no sooner uttered than two, three, four sharp reports
were heard. They were rifle-shots fired from the boat, upon the
occupants of the "djoekoeng." With what result who could tell? For
a single instant only, the faint gleam of some gigantic breaker had
revealed the two boats to the pair of spies. The next moment all was
deep darkness again, and, gaze as intently as they would, not even
their sharp eyes could discover anything further.

Thus a quarter of an hour passed away, when suddenly Than Khan
exclaimed, "A steamer!"

Sure enough, far out at sea, shone the well-known green and red lights,
and, high above them, the white light at the mast-head.

"The guard-ship!" cried Liem King.

"No doubt of it," said the other, "it must be the Matamata. Well,
all I can say is that if the Kiem Ping Hin has left her anchorage she
is not showing any lights; she has got away safe enough by this time."

"Come, I think we may be off home to the Kampong; no smugglers will
come ashore to-night, you may be sure."

For a while longer did the two Celestials keep watching the steamer's
movements. First she showed her three lights plainly enough, she
was therefore making straight for the land. After a time, however,
all of a sudden, her green light disappeared, leaving for a while
the red light only visible. Presently that also went out and only the
white top-mast light remained visible, and, as it seemed stationary,
our Chinamen concluded that the steamer had anchored or was perhaps
moving with her head to the wind.

Said Than Khan at length, "It is no use staying here; while that cursed
Matamata is about they will not be able to get anything ashore. Come,
let us be going."

"All right," replied Liem King; "but I vote we first go and have a look
at the Tjatjing, we may just possibly get to know something about the
'djoekoeng.'"

So our two worthies clambered down the rough log which, as we have
shown, stood as a ladder against the hut; the wind howling, meanwhile,
as furiously as ever.

In a few steps they came upon a kind of pathway for which they had
to grope with their feet in the deep darkness. They found it; and as
every now and then a wave would come washing over it, the two Chinamen
had to splash on in the brine. That, however, did not greatly interfere
with their progress. They knew the road well, and even had the weather
been rougher, they would have got along without much hesitation. They
had, in fact, not very far to go. In a few minutes they reached the
small river Tjatjing which close by emptied itself into the Java Sea.

At the spot where the Chinamen came upon the stream it made a kind of
bend or elbow as if, just before losing itself in the ocean, it had
thought better of it and was trying to retrace its course. At that
bend the mangrove roots retired a little from the shore, leaving a
pretty wide open space from which the prospect over the river would
have been quite clear; but the darkness was so intense that even Than
Khan's ferret eyes could make out nothing.

"If the 'djoekoeng' has reached the Moeara at all," roared Than Khan
in the ear of his companion, "she must have come ashore here. They
cannot possibly have got her further up the Tjatjing, there is not
water enough and the marsh-weed completely chokes it up."

"Hush," said Liem King; "I hear something."

He was right. In spite of the awful noise of the tempest a low moaning
sound could just be heard.

Both pricked their ears, took their bearings; and softly, with stealthy
tread they sneaked forward in the direction of the sound. Presently,
they almost stumbled over a boat which lay on the beach with its
stern half under water.

"The 'djoekoeng,'" muttered Than Khan.

Directed by the moaning sound they groped along the boat which was
but a hollowed tree. Its bamboo sail-wings were lying close by smashed
all to pieces by the wind and water; and a few steps further on they
discovered two human beings lying prostrate in the rank grass.

"Who is there?" called Liem King as he cautiously drew nearer.

"It is I," replied a very feeble voice in answer to the challenge.

"I? who is I?" asked the Chinaman.

"I, Ardjan," was the answer.

"What?" cried Liem King, "Ardjan of the Kiem Ping Hin."

A faint cry at these words issued from the lips of one of the
castaways.

"Silence," whispered the other Chinaman.

Both then bent forward over the figure which had given the name of
Ardjan; but in that thick darkness it was impossible to distinguish
anything.

One of them pulled a dark lantern out of his pocket, struck a match
and, with some trouble, managed to procure a light. As soon as he
had recognised the features he cried out:

"By ----! it is Ardjan! What in the world are you doing here?"

"I have fallen overboard," was the reply.

"Indeed you have? with that 'djoekoeng?'" sneered Liem King.

"I found her in the water as I was swimming about," was the reply.

"And that woman?" continued Liem King; "how about her? Did you pick
her up also floating about? Who is she?"

"She is Moenah, my sister," faintly said Ardjan.

"Ah! your sister," exclaimed Than Khan with a low, dirty laugh. "I
daresay she also managed to tumble overboard?"

With these words he threw the light of the lantern full on the face
of the so-called sister. The uncertain gleam revealed the well-shaped
form of a beautiful Javanese maiden of sixteen who, in her confusion,
strove to conceal her face under a veil, which, like all the rest of
her clothing, was dripping wet.

"Hallo!" cried Than Khan as he roughly tore the veil from the girl's
face, "what have we here? Dalima! the little 'baboe' of His Excellency
the Resident."

At these words the maiden cowered down in the most abject terror. The
two Chinamen exchanged a few hasty words in whispers in which the
name Lim Ho could be distinguished. That name seemed to have an
extraordinary effect upon the poor girl. When she heard it her face
became the very picture of terror.

This Lim Ho was one of the sons of the great opium farmer at Santjoemeh
and the man was madly in love with the poor little Javanese girl. He
had offered her large sums of money, he had tempted her with costly
gifts, but all in vain. He had addressed himself to her father, a poor
peasant in the "dessa" of Kaligaweh close by the principal township,
again without success. Then the wretch had sworn that, at any price,
the girl should be his, even if to possess her he might have to commit
a crime. He was a kind of scoundrel who would stick at nothing.

At the mention of that hateful name the girl recoiled and shrunk
together in terror. She knew the man, and now she also knew the two
rascals into whose power she had thus been thrown.

The two Chinamen kept on whispering to each other; they spoke in
Chinese of which language neither Ardjan nor Dalima knew a single word.

Before, however, the former had time to collect his thoughts or
his energies, the scoundrels were upon him. They tied up his hands
and feet with a thin rope which Liem King drew out of the capacious
pocket of his baggy trousers. Before he had time to defend himself
Ardjan found himself helpless, tied up in the shape of a hoop. But
even had there been time to resist, the poor fellow could have done
nothing. He was quite unarmed, he had not had time even to snatch up
his dagger-knife, and the frightful exertion of rowing the "djoekoeng"
through the breakers had so completely fagged him out, that, when the
men came upon him, he was lying panting for breath on the beach and
quite incapable of further exertion. The low moaning sound which had
guided the Chinamen to him was the sound of his gasping and panting
for breath as he lay on the shore.

Having firmly secured Ardjan, the Chinamen took hold of Dalima and
pinioned her also, ordering her to keep perfectly quiet and threatening
to kill her should she disobey.

It was a good thing for Dalima that her captors could not see the
expression on her face as they uttered their threatening warning. There
passed over the girl's features an expression of contempt which would
have given them food for reflection; and might have induced them to
make quite sure of their fair prisoner. But of this they saw nothing,
and, thinking the girl safe enough, they turned to her companion. His
arms were tied behind him and fastened to his feet which had also
been tightly bound. Liem King now took up a stout bamboo stick which
had formed part of the rigging of the surf boat, and having passed
it under Ardjan's arms they each took hold of one end of the bamboo,
and put it on their shoulders, and then, with their living burden
thus helplessly dangling between them they ran at a slow trot up the
path, along which, a few minutes before, they had groped their way. At
every jolt the poor Javanese uttered a cry of anguish. It was torture
indeed that they made Ardjan endure. The whole weight of his body,
bent in the most constrained attitude, was bearing upon his arms,
and the whippy motion of the pliable stick made every movement almost
unendurable as the Chinamen jogged slowly along. The bones of the
arms upon which, as a sack, the entire body was hanging seemed at
every moment about to snap, and the limbs felt as if every jog must
wrench them from their sockets.

But neither Liem King nor Than Khan paid the slightest heed to Ardjan's
shrieks, they kept quietly trotting along. In vain did the wretched
man entreat them to kill him and so put him out of the misery he was
enduring. In vain, seeing his prayers unheeded, did he hurl the most
offensive epithets at the heads of his tormentors, hoping thus to
provoke them to rage and goad them on to take summary vengeance. To
all Ardjan's entreaties and insults, the Chinamen replied only with
derisive laughter, and the "Aso tjina" (Chinese dog) repeated again
and again, Than Khan, who had one hand free, repaid with a tremendous
blow with his fist, the effect of which was only to increase the
agony of the sufferer.

In a few minutes, however, which to Ardjan seemed an age of torture,
the "djaga monjet" was reached. The ropes which tied Ardjan's feet were
then untied, leaving his arms only closely pinioned. The Chinamen then
ordered him to climb up the rough steps and enforced their command
by pricking him with the points of their daggers. The Javanese knew
well that the faintest show of resistance might cost him his life,
and now that the torture of dangling on the bamboo was no longer felt,
he began to take a more cheerful view of life. So he passively did as
he was told, and in a few moments he was at the top and inside the
hut. There the two brutes once again tied him up securely, and, in
order to make even an effort of flight impossible, they fastened his
hands tightly on his chest and forced the bamboo cane through the bend
of the elbows which were sticking out behind his back. Thus trussed
up, as it were, the least movement on the part of Ardjan occasioned
the most unbearable pain to his bruised and swollen limbs. Then,
they laid him down on his back on the floor of the hut, and to make
assurance doubly sure, they lashed him to one of the principal posts
of the small building.

Having made all safe, the Chinamen went off to fetch Dalima. What
they intended to do with the girl was a matter of dispute between
them. Liem King proposed that they should settle by a cast of the
dice which of them should possess her; but Than Khan, who was of a
more practical and covetous turn of mind, explained to his companion
that a good round sum of money might be got out of the son of the
rich opium farmer if they delivered her into his hands. They were
still debating the question when they reached the Tjatjing, where
they had left their victim lying on the grass. There they soon found
out that they need not have argued the matter at all; for though they
searched the whole place with the utmost minuteness, they could find
no trace of Dalima. Yes, they did find a trace; for behind a clump
of undergrowth close to the spot where they had left the girl, they
discovered the coil of rope with which they had bound her. She had,
evidently, somehow or other found means to get her wrists to her mouth,
and had succeeded in gnawing through the cords. Once her hands were
free it was mere child's play to untie her feet and legs.

"Devil take her!" exclaimed Liem King, "that tit-bit is lost to us."

"Indeed she is," sighed Than Khan; "we have allowed a nice little
sum to slip through our fingers. Lim Ho would have paid well for her."

"Now, I think," said Liem King, "the best thing will be not to breathe
a word about her to the Company."

"Oh, of course, not a single word," assented Than Khan; "now that
she has got away that would be most dangerous."

"But what," asked the other, "had we better do now with Ardjan? I think
we had better let him go, too. He is sure to let out all about Dalima."

"No fear," rejoined Than Khan, "he won't dare to do that. Should
he utter a single word about the girl Lim Ho would have him clubbed
to death."

"Well," said Liem King, pensively, "for all that I think the safest
plan is to let him go."

"H'm," said the other, "why so? You know as well as I do that he
ought to be on board the Kiem Ping Hin. Now, how on earth did he
manage to get here in that 'djoekoeng?' Take my word for it, there
is some mystery about that. Very likely it may be important to the
Company to get to the bottom of that. Ah," added he, with a deep sigh
of disappointment, "I only wish we had tied up that wretched girl a
little more securely."

"Oh, no, don't say so!" cried Liem King, "you would have bruised
those darling little wrists and dainty ankles."

"Bah!" cried Than Khan. "What nonsense, I wish we had her here;
now she is off. Where can she have got to?"

"Yes," replied Liem King, "that is the question, where to look for
her. But come along, let us hurry back or else we may find the other
bird flown too. There is something, you know, that tells me we have
made a good catch in him."

So the two rascals got back to the hut, and found Ardjan lying there
quietly enough, just as they left him. He had not been able to stir
hand or foot. As soon as he saw that the Chinamen came back alone
his eye brightened.

"Where is Dalima?" he exclaimed, most anxiously.

The Chinamen made no answer.

"Has she got away?" he asked again.

Than Khan shook his head. It was enough, there was something so doleful
in that gesture that Ardjan did not, for a moment, doubt. Dalima had
escaped. Now he could breathe more freely. If only he had been equally
fortunate. He had tried all he could to get rid of these accursed
ropes; but, alas! his arms hurt him so frightfully he thought they were
broken, and he had to give up the attempt in despair. Where might the
dear girl be now? He felt but little anxiety on that score. She had
managed, perhaps, to run to Kaligaweh, where her parents lived--the
distance was not great--she must, by this time, be close to the
dessa. Perhaps, she had taken the way to Santjoemeh, where lived the
family of the Resident, as she was in his service as nurse. In that
case, she would have a long journey before her, and she could not
reach it before daybreak. If only then she could at once tell her
whole story--then, yes, who knows, then he might even yet be rescued.

But all such reflections were roughly interrupted by Liem King,
who asked him, "Where did you come from on so wild a night as this?"

"I?" said Ardjan, "why, I have come from Santjoemeh, to be sure. I
intended to take Dalima to her father at Kaligaweh. The nor'-wester
drove us out to sea, I rowed with might and main to get to the Moeara
Tjatjing."

"What do you mean?" grinned Than Khan. "What business had you at
the Moeara? Oh, now I see, you wanted, no doubt, to pay us a visit
here! That is it--is it not?"

Ardjan trembled inwardly; but he replied calmly enough:

"I could not get as far as Sepoetran, and found myself drifting out
to sea, so I was compelled to make for the nearest land."

"But they have been after you," exclaimed Than Khan. "You have been
fired at."

"So I have," said Ardjan. "It must have been a boat of that wretched
Matamata, they must have taken me for a smuggler."

"Have you any stuff with you?" asked Than Khan. There was no reply to
that question. Had these Chinamen known in what position he really was,
they never would have asked him such a question as that.

"But," continued Liem King, "you are mate of the Kiem Ping Hin. How
is it you are not on board of her?"

For a moment the Javanese did not know what to answer, then he said:

"Captain Awal Boep Said has given me leave to spend two days on shore."

"You go and tell your grandmother that tale, it won't do for
us. What! just at this time, when there is so much work on hand?" cried
Than Khan.

"Well," said Ardjan, "it is true, nevertheless."

"Very good," replied Than Khan, "the Company will soon get to know
all about that."

After these words there was silence.

The Chinamen wrapped themselves up in a kind of rug or mat, and sat
down cross-legged on the floor, with their heads bent forwards on
their breast, and thus they seemed to be falling into a doze. Ardjan,
still fastened up in the most painful way to the bamboo stick, had
to lie on his back. It was pitch dark in the hut; the door and the
shutters were closed to exclude, as much as possible, the cold morning
air. But, when every now and then the Javanese turned his head to the
right or left, he could, through the chinks of the lath floor, see
that day was breaking. A greyish light began to appear under the hut,
and thus Ardjan could see the filthy mud in which a number of crawling
things, such as sea-eels, marsh-snakes, iguanas, and water-lizards
were swarming. They were in quest of the miscellaneous offal which
they were wont to find under the "djaga monjet."

For a while all was quiet, when suddenly the report of a gun shook
the hut. The sound startled both the Chinamen to their feet. It
was evidently a signal. Than Khan rushed to the door, and threw it
open. It was then broad daylight, the sun was just about to rise,
and was bathing the eastern horizon in a flood of the richest purple.








CHAPTER II.

IN THE DJAGA MONJET.


For a moment or two, Than Khan stood rubbing his eyes, the sudden glare
of light almost blinded him after the darkness of the hut. As soon
as he became somewhat accustomed to the morning light, he perceived
that a great change had taken place in nature. The wind which had
been howling so dismally all night long had now fallen considerably,
and the thick black clouds were breaking up, while patches of clear
blue sky were becoming visible on all sides. The eastern horizon was
perfectly cloudless, and the sun rising in full glory was bathing
all he touched in the purest gold. It was a magnificent spectacle,
certainly, that morning of calm after the night of storm; but neither
Than Khan nor his companion seemed to pay the slightest heed to these
beauties of nature. The two Celestials were not troubling their minds
about the sun; they were eagerly scanning the surface of the sea,
and that not for the purpose of admiring the stately roll of the long
breakers; they were looking out for something quite different.

Yonder, at a considerable distance from the shore, they could just
see a ship dancing on the waves. They could make her out with the
naked eye to be a schooner-brig, which, under shortened sail, was
lying close to the wind, and was evidently purposely keeping away
from the land. She had some kind of signal flying; but what it was
they could not make out. Liem King then produced a ship's telescope,
which was kept stowed away under the "attaps" in a corner of the roof,
and which had long since lost its original colour, being thickly
covered with a coating of dirt and dust.

The Chinaman handled the glass as one who was familiar with its use,
and, after looking for awhile, he turned to his mate, and said:
"The letters T.F.N.W. on a red ground. That must be the Kiem Ping
Hin. She ought to have come in last night, and--"

"She is trying to anchor, I suppose," said Than Khan.

"No, she is not," replied Liem King; "she is only trying to keep out
of the smuggling radius."

"Well," cried Than Khan, "that's cool enough anyhow. Why! only last
night we had the Matamata here."

"Why," said the other, "she is safe enough. Where she is now lying
the steamer could not get at her, and, what's more, she is flying
the British ensign. Under those colours no one will dare to meddle
with her. The Dutch are frightened to death of the English."

After looking through his glass at the schooner for a few moments
longer Liem King exclaimed: "They are lowering the boat!"

"Then one of us," said Than Khan, "will have to run to the landing
place at the Tjatjing."

"Very well, you go," said Liem King.

"No, you," said the other.

"Why should we not both go together?" asked Liem King.

"Certainly not," rejoined Than Khan. "Would you," he asked as he
pointed to Ardjan, "leave this fellow here alone and unwatched?"

"Perhaps you are right," assented the other, "let us toss up for it."

"All right," replied Than Khan, "I don't mind."

One of them then produced some white pebbles about the size of beans
among which there were a few black ones. With a certain amount of
dexterity he flung them upon a wooden board which seemed made for the
purpose. Liem King counted the throw to see how many black ones were
lying together.

It was Than Khan's turn next.

"I have won," he exclaimed. "You see I have seven black together. You
had but five."

"Very good," said Liem King. "I shall go."

"But mind," said the other, "not a word about Dalima!"

"You trust me," was the answer.

A strange scornful smile passed over Ardjan's features.

Than Khan sat down cross-legged in the doorway of the hut, placing
himself in such a manner that while he had a clear view of the bay
before him, he could at the same time watch every movement Ardjan
might attempt to make.

Not a single action on board the schooner escaped the Chinaman's
watchful eye.

He saw the smuggler lower her boat, he then saw five or six Chinese
get into her. The little craft, rowed by a Javanese crew, then put
off and got under weigh. It soon got into the seething breakers and
as Than Khan watched the tremendous exertions of the rowers, he could
not help admiring the cool steady way in which the helmsman kept her
head firmly to the waves.

"That must be Lim Ho himself," he muttered.

Ardjan shuddered at the mention of that name. "Lim Ho!" he exclaimed,
his voice betraying his terror.

"Yes," said Than Khan, "in a few minutes they will all be here."

Just then the boat was getting into the Moeara. He was right, the
light craft manned by eight stout rowers was flying through the water
and had got clear of the dangerous surf.

Once under the lee of the bow-nets and fairly in the bay, the boat
was in comparatively smooth water and darted into the mouth of the
Tjatjing.

Liem King stood at the landing place waiting to receive his countrymen
and he began at once to lead the way to the little watch-house.

The five Chinamen had no sooner stepped ashore than the Javanese crew
began to make all possible haste to unload the boat.

A number of small tins and barrels lay piled up in the bottom and
these they brought to land and most carefully stowed away, hiding
them in the sand under the bushes which grew hard by.

"Jolly stuff that black butter," said one of the fellows, as he
pointed to the barrels.

The small casks looked as if they had just come out of some Dutch
farmhouse. They were all sealed with green wax and bore the well-known
stamp of Van der Leeuw.

"I wish I could get hold of a couple of taël of that butter," said
another of the crew with a laugh.

"Well," said another, "you can be off presently to the opium den of
Babah Tjoa Tjong Ling and there you can get as much as you like of
it. You will find it easy enough to get rid of your hardly earned
wages."

In a few minutes all the tins and barrels were safely stowed away and
then the Javanese crew followed the steps of their Chinese masters
to the "djaga monjet."

When the five Chinamen had entered the little hut, the examination of
Ardjan, who was still lying on the floor in the same painful position,
was commenced at once.

On the way to the hut Liem King had told his master as much as he
deemed prudent about Ardjan's capture; but not a word did he breathe
about Dalima.

Lim Ho listened with attention to his report. This Lim Ho was a tall,
powerfully-built Chinaman. He was the chief of that band of smugglers,
about five-and-twenty years of age. He had a wan yellow complexion,
and a false, evil look in his slanting eyes.

When he heard it was Ardjan, the mate, who had been caught, he could
not repress a smile of satisfaction.

As soon as Liem King had made his report, he asked in a tone of
assumed indifference:

"Was the fellow alone when you came upon him?"

"Oh yes, quite alone," readily replied Liem King.

Lim Ho showed that he was greatly disappointed at the news.

"He came ashore in a 'djoekoeng,' I think you told me?" he asked.

"He did, sir," replied Liem King.

"Could the 'djoekoeng' have turned over at sea?" continued Lim Ho.

"Very likely," replied the wily Chinaman.

"When Than Khan and myself found the 'djoekoeng,'" he continued,
"Ardjan was lying exhausted and wet through on the beach--he looked
as if he had been washing about in the water, and the bamboos of the
rigging were smashed to pieces."

"All right," said Lim Ho superciliously, "we shall hear all about
that presently."

As he entered the hut, he did not deign so much as to cast a look at
Ardjan; but abruptly asked him:

"What made you run away?"

"I was homesick," was the reply, "I was heartily sick of the ship
and wanted to get back to the 'dessa.'"

"Indeed!" sneered Lim Ho. "And that was the reason, I suppose, why
you took Dalima with you?"

Ardjan kept silence; Liem King and Than Khan were growing as pale
as death.

"Where was the girl drowned?" suddenly asked Lim Ho.

"Drowned," shouted Ardjan, "you say drowned. Have they drowned her,
then?"

"Have they drowned her?" said Lim Ho in a mocking tone of voice. "Was
not the 'djoekoeng' upset when the pair of you tried to run away in
her? Where did that take place? perhaps Dalima may somehow have been
able to get out."

"Able to get out," repeated Ardjan. "But the 'djoekoeng' did not
turn over at all," he exclaimed. "We both of us got ashore. She was
terribly frightened at the storm to be sure, but quite unhurt, and
I was completely exhausted with rowing."

"But," roared Lim Ho, "what has become of her, then?"

"That, I cannot tell you," replied Ardjan, "you must ask Liem King
and Than Khan."

These two worthies stood trembling with apprehension.

"Did you fellows hear that?" shouted Lim Ho in a towering passion. "Did
you hear that? I am waiting for you--what is your answer?"

"I do not know what has become of the girl," stammered Than Khan.

"She has, very likely, been devoured by a crocodile, for all I know,"
added Liem King.

"Did she get to land? Yes or no?" roared Lim Ho, while in his
impatience he stamped about the little hut, shaking it to its
foundations.

"She did," replied Ardjan. "Those two scoundrels first tied me up,
and then they bound Dalima's arms and legs. They brought me in here,
and after that they went out in quest of Dalima. But all I know is
they came back without her."

Lim Ho's piercing eyes were watching the two Chinamen as Ardjan
was speaking.

"I have no doubt," Liem King again ventured to say, "that some
crocodile has carried her off."

"Or maybe," said Than Khan, "a tiger has got hold of her."

Lim Ho applied a small whistle to his lips. He blew a shrill piercing
note, and at the summons one of the Javanese crew at once presented
himself at the door of the hut.

"Call your mates," ordered Lim Ho. In an instant the whole boat's
crew was present.

"Tie me up those scoundrels," cried Lim Ho, "make them fast," he said,
as he pointed to Liem King and Than Khan. "Tie them up, and securely
too, do you hear me!"

The men readily obeyed, it was the work of an instant. Nothing in
this world gave these fellows greater delight than to be allowed
to lay their hands upon a Chinaman. They set to work as roughly,
as brutally as they could. The knots were tied and they hauled upon
the ropes with a will. The wretched victims groaned with the pain.

Oh! if ever it should come to an outbreak, then woe to the Celestials
in Java, they would find but little mercy. Who knows--were such
a catastrophe to take place they might not be the only race to
suffer. There are others who might get into trouble too!

When both the Chinese spies were firmly secured, Lim Ho called to
his men.

"Now, my lads, now for a hunt! A girl--little Dalima--has escaped from
us and we must get her back. Five hundred 'ringgiets' six dollars to
the man who finds her and brings her in!"

With a ringing cheer the boat's crew dashed from the hut.

When they had left, Lim Ho ordered one of his followers to hand him
his pipe. He filled the small bowl with the slender bamboo stem with
extremely fine-cut tobacco, then he lit the pipe and began to blow the
smoke from his nostrils. Thereupon he took a seat on the only chair the
hut contained. It was a rough and clumsy piece of furniture, cut out of
the wood with a clasp-knife. The other Chinamen sat down cross-legged
on the floor, while their captain once again turned to Ardjan.

"Come now," said he, "just you tell us how you managed to get Dalima
out of the Kiem Ping Hin. You knew well enough, did you not, that
I wanted the girl? But, look you, no lies! No lies, mind you! Your
life is in my hands; you are aware of that, I hope."

Ardjan could but utter a deep sigh. He begged that his hands might
be slackened if but a little. "To be trussed up like this," said he,
"is unbearable torture."

"No, no," laughed Lim Ho. "First let us hear what you have to say,
then we shall see what we can do for you."

Nevertheless he gave the order to remove the bamboo cane which had
so long tortured the poor Javanese, and as soon as that was removed
the Chinaman said:

"Now, speak up, I am listening to you!"

"You are aware," began Ardjan, "that I am mate on board the Kiem Ping
Hin. Yesterday afternoon we were lying at anchor behind Poeloe Kalajan
which is not far from Santjoemeh, when a 'djoekoeng' rowed up to us
in which a couple of your countrymen were seated. At first I thought
that they came alongside to take off some of the smuggled opium with
which the schooner is partly loaded. I, therefore, threw them a rope
and helped them up the ship's side. But, instead of coming to fetch
anything off, they brought something aboard with them. It was a heavy
sack which they carefully hoisted on deck, and which had something of
the appearance of a human form. However, that was no business of mine,
it was not the first time that I had seen that kind of thing going
on. I even lent a hand at carrying the load into the captain's cabin,
and I laughed and joked with the Chinamen at the fun Awal Boep Said
was going to have.

"When, shortly after, the captain came on board, I told him of the bit
of good luck that had befallen him, and I fancied he would be mightily
pleased. Not a bit of it, instead of at once rushing down into his
cabin, he quietly remained on deck, simply ordering me to keep a sharp
look out as he was expecting some friends. And, true enough, a few
hours later you, Lim Ho, came on board with two of your followers. You
reached the schooner just in time. Night was rapidly falling, and a
north-westerly storm was blowing up. No sooner were you aboard than it
began to blow furiously. The moment I saw you, an unpleasant feeling
came over me, and quite involuntarily my thoughts at once flew to
the sack which I had helped to get aboard, and which then was lying
on the bed in the cabin. I longed to get away down below to have a
look; but the captain, who was watching the storm that was brewing,
ordered the men to the braces and had a second anchor brought out. I
had, of course, to take my share of duty and could not leave the deck.

"When, an hour or so after, I got to the cabin, I found you there
stretched out on a couch. You were hard at it smoking opium, your pipe
was in your hand, and with evident satisfaction you were swallowing
down the smoke.--

"I knew well enough what all this meant. A man whose senses are dulled
and deadened by habitual excess, must find something to rouse him. I
knew that you had some little pigeon in your clutches, and that you
were seeking to recruit by opium your exhausted powers. Your object
was to get the greatest possible amount of enjoyment out of your
victim--You know the properties of opium, and how to make use of it.

"Now all this did not concern me, I merely chuckled--I thought, that's
a common thing enough! I remember a hadji telling me that opium is
a gift of Ngahebi Mohammed, and the ever-blessed in Paradise use it
to renew their strength and thus are for ever beloved by the houris.

"But yet, I could not get rid of that strange feeling that told me all
was not well. I could not get rid of my anxious curiosity. Dalima has
long ago been promised to me by her parents. She is to be my wife as
soon as I can get together a few more 'ringgiets' which will enable me
to purchase a yoke of oxen. The day on which I can get them together,
is to be my wedding-day.

"But Lim Ho," and at these words the voice of the Javanese began to
hiss and assume an almost threatening tone, "but Lim Ho, I know also
that you covet the maiden,--I know what treasures you have offered
her--I know what sums you have offered her parents as the price of
her virtue, and of her innocence.

"I made up my mind--I must see who was there in the cabin.--Oh! I
had not, at that time, the least suspicion that it was Dalima! She
had rejected all your advances with the utmost contempt. Her father
had even threatened to kreese you. How could the 'baboe' of the Ioean
Resident have come into your power?--You see it was impossible!"

"Yes, yes, as you say it was quite impossible," said Lim Ho with a
grin, excited by the story of Ardjan. "I say, Ong Kwat, just tell us
how the girl came into your hands!"

"No need of that," resumed Ardjan, "I know all about it. Dalima told
me the whole story in the 'djoekoeng.' Yesterday she was out for a walk
with her master's youngest child in the lane behind the Residence. The
boy in his play, flung his ball into a ditch by the side of the road. A
Chinaman happened to be passing at the time and Dalima requested him to
fetch the toy out of the water. He did so at her request; but instead
of returning the ball to the child he pitched it as far as he could
into the garden. The boy ran off eagerly to fetch it, and Dalima was
looking after the child, when suddenly the Chinaman flung himself upon
her, gagged her, and before she could utter a single cry threw a sack
over her head. Thus muffled he dragged her to the end of the lane, and
put her into a 'djoekoeng' which was lying in the ditch. The boat at
once put off, and in an hour's time was alongside the Kiem Ping Hin."

"Just so!" exclaimed Lim Ho. "Now, Ong Kwat, is not that just about
how you managed it?"

The man thus addressed grinned, nodded his head and added, "Yes,
master, for four whole days I had been on the prowl for that catch."

"Now, Ardjan," resumed Lim Ho, "you may go on again; but mind you,
no lies."

The Javanese continued: "As I entered the cabin I gave a hasty
look round. You, Lim Ho, were partially unconscious, still smoking
opium. You had not got to that stage when the drug excites the passions
to madness. Your attendant was intent upon kneading the 'mandat'
balls. There was no one in the cabin but you two, so I ventured
to creep in, and, by the light of the lamp that was burning there,
I saw--Dalima.

"With one bound I was at her side, in an instant I had severed the
ropes which tied her, and in another moment I had dragged her out of
the cabin. Thereupon I flew forward, got some clothes which I happened
to have by me, and in a few seconds was back again with them. Dalima
slipped them on, and thus partially disguised I hid her under a heap
of sails which happened to be lying in the stern.

"Meanwhile the storm was raging in all its fury, and I have no doubt
that it was chiefly owing to the noise of the wind that we had been
able to get clear of the cabin unperceived. Captain Awal Boep Said,
like a good Mussulman, was telling his beads, and from time to time
uttered an 'Allah achbar' (God is great), or a 'Bismillah' (God be
praised). The other men were all taking shelter in the forecastle,
and your servants were lying sea-sick in their bunks.

"Of these favourable circumstances I made the best use I could. The
'djoekoeng,' in which Dalima had come alongside, was still lying there
dancing on the waves. I took hold of the painter and drew the boat
up to the side. The girl slid down into her along a rope which was
hanging over the ship's side. I followed her, seized upon a paddle
and then I cast her adrift, and the storm soon drove us far from the
Kiem Ping Hin.

"I was in hopes that I might succeed in reaching that part of the beach
which lies nearest to the Resident's house; but when the 'djoekoeng'
got under the Poeloe Kalajan the wind got hold of her and we had to
drift at the mercy of the waves.

"Then I managed to set the wings which were lying in the bottom
of the boat. Without them we must certainly have capsized and been
drowned. I kept on rowing with all my might; for I knew that once we
were driven past the cape there would be an end of us. At length--at
length--I managed to struggle through the breakers. One more effort
and we were safe at the Moeara Tjatjing! The moment danger was over I
fell down utterly exhausted, and, before I had time to recover Than
Khan and Liem King had discovered us. They pinioned us both, Dalima
and me. Me they carried off to this hut; what has become of the girl I
don't know. I have not seen or heard of her since. Now then, Lim Ho,"
said he in conclusion, "that is the whole truth."

For a short time silence was preserved, Lim Ho seemed to reflect
on what he had heard, and no one in the hut ventured to disturb
his reflections.

At length he spoke, turning to Than Khan and Liem King, and said:

"Well, what have you to say to all that?" Neither of them answered
a word.

"Do you intend to answer, yes or no?" roared Lim Ho in a furious
passion, as he dealt Than Khan, who lay bound on the floor, a heavy
kick in the side.

"The Javanese lies," cried the Chinaman, writhing with pain. "We have
seen nothing of the girl!"

"He probably got her off into the woods," added Liem King, "before
we came up."

"I would gladly have given my life for Dalima," cried Ardjan, "but
I was lying on the beach utterly prostrate; I could not defend her,
sir, I could not defend myself. I am telling you the truth. These
two scoundrels must know what they have done with her!"

Lim Ho muttered a few words to himself and appeared to be thinking
what he would do next, when voices were heard outside the hut, the
voices of the boat's crew who had been hunting for Dalima, and were
now returning with the tidings that their search had been fruitless,
and that they had nowhere been able to find the girl.

Ardjan's face gleamed with satisfaction as he heard it, and he at
once grew calmer.

"Unless," said one of the Javanese boatmen, holding up a coil of rope,
"you call this a trace of her. I found this close by the spot where
we landed."

Lim Ho fixed his eye upon the two wretched spies. They held their
peace, that silent proof effectually closed their mouths.

"These are," said Ardjan, in a much quieter tone of voice than that
in which he had spoken before, "these are the cords with which they
bound Dalima's wrists and ankles. I recognise them perfectly."

Lim Ho hereupon uttered but two words; but they were words which
caused Ardjan and Liem King and Than Khan to shudder with terror. In
most abject terms they prayed for mercy. But Lim Ho remained deaf
to all their entreaties, he scarcely deigned to cast a look at them;
but now and then in his cold rage he would deal a savage kick at the
body of one or the other of the prostrate Chinamen.

In a few abrupt words he gave his orders to the Javanese crew. Whatever
his commands might be, his men were but too ready to carry them out. A
couple of them at once left the hut while the others set Ardjan and
the two Chinamen upon their legs and prepared to take them out of
the cabin.

"Oh, sir, have pity, have mercy upon us!" Than Khan exclaimed in
truly piteous accents.

"Where is Dalima?" was the furious rejoinder.

"We don't know where she is!" cried both the Chinamen.

"And you!" shouted Lim Ho turning to Ardjan; "do you know what has
become of her?"

"I know nothing about it," was the reply. "I think that most probably
she may have got back to the Residence."

"Have mercy, have mercy!" shrieked Liem King.

"What? mercy on such brutes as you?" scornfully said Lim Ho.

"But," they asked; "what harm have we done?"

"I will tell you what you have done," sneered Lim Ho. "You have had
Dalima in your power and you have been pleased to let her go. That's
what you have done and you shall suffer for it. And you!" he hissed
out in fury, as he turned to Ardjan, "you have dared to carry the
girl away. Oh, you shall pay for it!"

"But she is my bride," pleaded the wretched man.

"Your bride, indeed," said Lim Ho with concentrated rage. "Your
bride? Do you think a pretty girl like Dalima is destined to be the
bride of a Javanese dog like you? But it was last night that you
carried her off from the Kiem Ping Hin. Might you perhaps in that
'djoekoeng'--"

A disgusting leer of disappointed passion passed over the features
of Lim Ho as he uttered the half finished question.

"No, no, by Allah!" fiercely exclaimed the Javanese. "Dalima is as
pure as the white flower of which she bears the name. But," added he
in a calmer mood, "you know better than that. You know that in such
weather as we had last night I had very little time for trifling
and love-making."

"That's lucky for you," cried Lim Ho; "had you so much as touched her
too freely I would this very moment drive my kreese into you. As it is,
I will simply punish you for having run away. I will consent to forget
that Dalima is anything to you. But," he added with an odious smile,
"you seem to forget that the matter is somewhat serious for you. You
ran away, remember, to give the coastguard notice of the arrival and
of the movements of the Kiem Ping Hin--"

"That is not true," hastily interrupted Ardjan.

"That, you see, amounts to treachery--treachery to the Company,"
continued Lim Ho without taking the slightest notice of Ardjan's
indignant denial. "It's a serious matter as you know."

"I tell you it is all a lie," cried the wretched Javanese, driven to
despair by the other's manner. "It is all a lie. I ran away to save
Dalima from your filthy clutches; you may drive your dagger into me
for that, but I am no traitor."

"I tell you again," replied Lim Ho with perfect calmness, "that
your intention was to betray the secrets of the Company. You know
the laws of the Company, do you not? I will therefore give you the
same punishment as to those two scoundrels. I will then have you
put on board the Kiem Ping Hin; not as her mate; oh, no, but simply
as a slave; and you will be put ashore at Poeloe Bali and there you
will have to remain on pain of death. You will remain there, I say,
as long as ever the Company shall see fit."

"Oh no!" wildly cried Ardjan, "not that, anything but that; rather
kill me at once. I have not played the spy; I am no traitor. I will
not, I cannot live away from Dalima!"

The face of Lim Ho plainly showed the bitter hatred he felt towards
his rival--a hatred the more intense because he knew that Ardjan
possessed the fair young girl's heart.

He did not, however, vouchsafe any further reply; but gave a sign to
the boatmen.

With blows and kicks they drove the prisoners before them down the
rough steps. They revelled in the brutality which they were allowed
to show to these unhappy wretches.

With their hands tightly bound behind their backs the three were half
driven, half pushed down, and being quite unable to steady themselves
they tumbled down into the filthy mud beneath and grovelled there
amidst the shouts of laughter of their tormentors until they were
again roughly put on their feet.

Lim Ho and his pig-tailed companions heartily joined in the merriment
and thus encouraged the rough sailors in their unmerciful handling
of the miserable captives.








CHAPTER III.

HOEKOEM KAMADOOG--THE VAN GULPENDAM FAMILY.


Nothing could be more strange, and indeed awful, than the contrast
between the fair face of nature and the hideous cruelty which man
was about to perpetrate on that little sequestered spot on the north
coast of Java.

The storm which had been raging furiously during the night had now
fallen to a fresh yet warm breeze. The leaves of the singular forest
of mangrove were softly rustling in the wind, and the waves, which
a few hours ago were madly dashing on the shore, now were quietly
running up the beach with pleasant and melodious murmurs. Indeed,
the prospect from the hut over the little bay of the Moeara Tjatjing,
enclosed by its two headlands, was picturesque in the extreme. Under
the bright beams of the early morning sun, the intense blue of the sea
was glittering with indescribable purity and brilliancy, the surface
of the ocean was still heaving, the waves still were following each
other as in pursuit, here and there a breaker might still be seen
topped by a snow-white cap of foam; but there was nothing angry in
the scene. The bosom of Amphitrite still heaved, but all fierce and
angry passions seemed to have died away. At some little distance from
the land the schooner Kiem Ping Hin was dancing on the water, rising
and falling gracefully, while the British ensign floated at the peak.

Just in front of the hut, in which took place the stormy scenes we
have described in the former chapters, and close by the small group
of "Saoe" trees we have mentioned, there stood a clump of "Niboeng"
palms. Straight and smooth as candles were their stems, and high up in
the air their feathery tops were waving to the breeze. On all sides,
excepting on that of the sea, the mangrove wood, with its maze of
tangled roots, surrounded the hut as with an impenetrable wall.

The bay to which Lim Ho and his attendants had dragged their unhappy
prisoners was thus perfectly lonely, closely screened from every
human eye.

As soon as they had arrived at the spot, Lim Ho made a signal to
his men. In an instant the prisoners had their clothes torn from
their bodies, and stark naked they were firmly lashed to the smooth
stems of three palm trees. The ropes, which had already served to
confine the limbs of Dalima, now were used to tie Ardjan and the
two Chinese spies to the trunks of these trees, which, to them,
were to become stakes at which they were destined to endure the most
excruciating agony. The victims knew well what was in store for them,
and kept anxiously looking round to see what would happen; their
eyes, however, glaring around with wild terror, could not, at once,
discover what they sought, and what they were every moment dreading
to see. Although the tropical sun was burning down on their backs,
yet they were trembling in every limb, as if shivering with cold;
their hands were fastened high up above their heads, and the ropes
were passed round their loins and knee-joints. Thus they could not
make the slightest movement without extreme pain, for the ropes being
plaited of "Iemoetoe" were hard, rough, and prickly.

Suddenly Than Khan uttered a startled cry, he had been anxiously
looking round, and he now saw a couple of sailors coming up from the
wood, each carefully bearing a bundle of leaves. The wretched man
knew at a glance that the hour of torture was at hand. The leaves
which the sailors bore well deserve description. They were broad and
heart-shaped, and were attached to twigs resembling brushwood. The
edges of the leaves were roughly jagged like the teeth of a saw, and
their upper and under surfaces were covered with white hairy down. They
were leaves of the "Kamadoog," the devil thistle, the most terrible
plant perhaps which the earth produces. With infinite precaution--a
precaution which needs no explanation--the Javanese sailors made, of
these leafy twigs, three broom-like scourges, around the handles of
which they carefully wrapped some grass and bits of rag. When he saw
his men thus armed, Lim Ho gave the signal to begin. Three sailors
stepped up to the victims, and with the twigs began to strike their
backs, their loins, their thighs, and the calves of their legs. Then
was enacted a hideous, but most curious scene. It was not, properly
speaking, any scourging at all, the blows which they inflicted were as
light as possible; they rather flipped or stroked the flesh of their
victims, and it looked as if they were engaged in simply driving away
insects or troublesome flies from the naked bodies. Now and then,
one or other of them would give a somewhat harder flip, as if some
obstinate fly refused to be dislodged from the spot. But the features
of the unfortunate wretches, who were suffering this apparently playful
scourging, were in horrible contrast with the seeming gentleness of
the treatment. The faces of Ardjan and of his companions in misfortune
were actually distorted with terror, their eyes were starting from
the sockets. Wherever those dreadful leaves lightly fell on the skin,
the body at once shrunk away in pain, the limbs began to quiver,
the muscles began to work up and to stiffen in knots, as if drawn
together by violent cramp. But still that gentle flicking and stroking
went on. The sufferers began to writhe and twist about their bodies
in intolerable anguish. Still the heartless executioners went on
with their hideous task. The miserable victims panted for breath,
a low, most pitiful moaning escaped from their lips; they gnashed
their teeth with agony, they bit their lips until the blood came;
but all to no purpose--nothing could bring them relief.

"Have mercy, sir," they moaned with the piteous wail of a dying child.

But Lim Ho had no mercy to show his wretched victims, he waved his
hand to the executioners, who, at that sign, entirely changed their
mode of operation, and now the gentle fanning was replaced by a severe
downright flogging. The blows, laid on with the full strength of the
sailors, rained down upon the bare bodies of the tortured wretches,
their skin resounded under the pattering of the leaves, which, less
barbarous than the men who wielded them, began to tear and fly from
their stems.

As soon as that flogging commenced, the prisoners no longer moaned,
they roared, they yelled, they howled with anguish. It was the cry
of a wild beast wounded to death, which gathers up its remaining
strength for one dying roar.

The limbs of the miserable men now not only shrank and writhed; but
with the convulsive energy which only such extremity of torture could
lend, they clasped with their legs the smooth trunks of the trees,
they seemed to try and sink into them and bury themselves in the
wood. It was an awful spectacle, and yet, strange to say, no wounds
could be seen, no contusions, no livid spots even; nothing at all in
fact to account for such unheard-of suffering. The skin only looked
somewhat puffy, somewhat red and inflamed, and covered with very small
blisters. The wounds which the bodies of the victims bore were serious
enough, it is true; but they had nothing to do with the leaves of the
terrible nettle. In their almost superhuman efforts to burst their
bonds, and in their frantic contortions, the sufferers had forced the
ropes into the flesh, and here and there the strands had cut their
way to the bone, so that streams of blood were pouring along their
arms, along their thighs and loins, and were forming broad red spots
on the soft slippery soil. That anguish must have been acute enough
in itself; but it was nothing compared to the torture occasioned by
the leaves of the devil-thistle.

At length the instruments of torture had become well nigh stripped,
there was left in fact only the bare twigs, on which here and there
a few tattered leaves were still dangling, the poisonous leaves lay
scattered in all directions, faded, torn, and shapeless about the
feet of the sufferers. But, even then, Lim Ho did not think of causing
the torture to cease, he seemed to be bent on utterly destroying his
victims. He ordered the men to stop for a few moments. It was not
because he felt any pity. Not at all, he merely caused the half dead
bodies to be sprinkled with salt water, which, if possible, augmented
the torments they endured. The monster was, in fact, on the point
of resuming his inhuman flogging, when suddenly a cry was raised,
"The police, the police!"

In furious haste Lim Ho and his assistants flew up to the tortured
Chinamen. In a moment they had severed the cords which bound them
to the trees, and the next instant they were dragging the wretches
who were curling and twisting in their agony along the rough path
which led to the landing-place where their boat lay moored. Two
of Lim Ho's men would have performed the same office for Ardjan,
but the shouts of the rescuing party became louder every instant,
the men were stricken with panic, took to their heels, and with all
speed rejoined their retreating comrades.

They got to the boat just in time, for they had no sooner got into her,
before five or six policemen led on by Dalima and closely followed
by a crowd of people came to the spot.

"Allah," exclaimed the young girl as she caught sight of Ardjan, who
was still tied up to the tree, moaning with pain, and whose almost
lifeless body was hanging like a sack in the somewhat slackened ropes;
"Allah, what in the world have they done to him!"

In a moment the unfortunate man was surrounded, his bonds were severed,
and he was laid down gently on a mat which somebody had run to fetch
from the little watch-house. But he could not utter a word. He yelled
with pain, and rolled about on the ground writhing like a crushed worm.

"Oh, my God!" he moaned most piteously, "I am in pain! in pain!"

"Where is the pain?" cried Dalima, as she sat crouching down beside
him.

"It is the kamadoog," the sufferer managed to say between his sobs
of anguish.

"The kamadoog!" cried the bystanders in horror.

It was plain enough now. One of the spectators had taken up a few torn
leaves, and at once recognised the terrible nettle. Every man in the
crowd turned pale with horror. And truly the kamadoog is a dreadful
plant. The slightest contact with its formidable leaves occasions
a violent itching, painful as a severe burn; and, when used as an
instrument of torture, it causes the most intolerable suffering,
for at least seven days; it makes the limbs stiffen, and produces a
burning fever, which not unfrequently ends in the most painful death.

"Has anyone here any 'sirihkalk?'" (chalk made of sea-shells)
cried Dalima.

Some few of the bystanders had with them the "sirih," which they
are fond of chewing. They unwrapped the sirih-leaf in which were the
pinang-nut, the chalk, and the tobacco, which form this highly-prized
chew, and gave the chalk to the girl, who hastened to anoint the
sufferer with the paste-like alkali. But, unfortunately, so great
was the surface which had been exposed to the stroke of the hairy
leaves, that the supply of "sirih-chalk" was altogether inadequate,
and only a very small portion of the blisters could be treated with
the remedy. Dalima was in despair. There was nothing else for it
but to carry Ardjan into the hut, which afforded a shelter from the
burning sun. Then some of the men hurried away to fetch a supply
of oil and chalk, which they hoped would mitigate the pain, and
check the fever. By evening, if all were well, Ardjan might perhaps
have so far recovered as to bear the fatigue of being moved to more
convenient quarters.

While these remedies were being applied to poor Ardjan, the boat in
which Lim Ho had put off, was being rowed past the djaga monjet,
and was getting out of the little bay. The policemen stood on the
shore calling to the crew to come back; but no one took the slightest
notice of their summons, and, as they had no firearms with them to
enforce obedience, the only reply they got was a derisive cheer,
and a shout of defiance.

As he rowed by the djaga monjet, Lim Ho had plainly recognised Dalima,
who, actively employed in assisting her tortured lover, was running
about, in and out, here and there.

The sight of her literally maddened the brutal Chinaman; he was on
the point of ordering his boat's crew to return and row to land. But,
in another instant, he came to himself, and recovered his reason. It
would indeed have been the act of a madman to try and carry off the
girl just then. He knew that he could place great dependence upon
the power of his gold; but yet, in full daylight, in the very face
of all those people, he felt he could hardly try its influence upon
the native police. So he could only shake his fist in impotent rage,
and the word to return remained unspoken.

The boat swiftly glided out of the Moeara Tjatjing, and at once made
for the Kiem Ping Hin, which was already loosening her sails, and
waiting impatiently for the return of her boat's crew. As they mounted
the deck, Captain Awal Boep Said came up to report to Lim Ho that
the smoke of a steamer could just be seen on the horizon. "Probably,"
he added, "it is the Matamata, she was here yesterday."

"Those white blockheads," muttered Lim Ho, with a scornful laugh. "At
night they have their coloured lights up, and we can tell them miles
away. By day they take care to send up a cloud of smoke which no one
can mistake. I will bet they have not discovered us yet, while we
have had our eye on her ever so long ago."

"It is the guard-ship, sir, likely enough. What are your orders?" said
the captain.

"The wind has risen somewhat with the sun," replied Lim Ho. "Set sail
at once, and steer for Bali."

A quarter of an hour later, the Kiem Ping Hin was gracefully heeling
over to the freshening breeze, and, under full sail, was flying to
the eastward. When, much later on, the Matamata came to the Moeara
Tjatjing, the smuggler, an excellent sailing craft, was on the horizon;
she was nothing more than a faint white speck on the deep blue sea. The
clumsy old guard-ship, which, under favourable circumstances, could
not make more than six knots, and might perhaps do eight knots under
extra pressure, had not the smallest chance of overtaking the rakish
schooner, running eleven knots before the breeze. In less than an hour,
the vessels were out of sight of one another altogether.



Meanwhile, what had befallen Dalima that she thus managed to come up at
the right moment of time to rescue Ardjan from compulsory exile? As
soon as she had succeeded in gnawing through the rope which tied
her wrists, no very difficult task for her sharp white teeth--she
plucked asunder the knots by which her feet were confined. That did
not take long, and with a gesture of contempt she flung the cords
aside and was hastening from the spot. For a moment or two, however,
she stood still, considering whether she ought not to go straight to
the djaga monjet, perhaps she might be of some service to Ardjan. At
that moment, however, she caught the voices of the two Chinamen who
were coming down the pathway in quest of her. This at once brought
her to a decision and thoroughly terrified she ran off at the top
of her speed in the opposite direction. As she was speeding along
she made up her mind to go straight to her mistress and implore her
aid. But, the question was, would she listen to her story, would she
help her? Well, if she would not, then she would go to the Resident,
he surely could not refuse to hear her.

Thus, like a hunted roe she flew along, the thick forest had no terrors
for her, she was a true child of Nature and knew her road well, and
so, in a few seconds, she had disappeared among the tangled roots of
the mangrove.

It was in the early morning that she reached the grounds of the
house. The first thing she saw under the half open verandah or
"pandoppo" was the Resident's daughter. Her young mistress was quite
alone, she was lying back in a comfortable rocking-chair and was
reading a book in which she seemed wholly absorbed.

So Dalima glided very softly into the pandoppo and, without making
the least sound, with a graceful motion seated herself cross-legged
on the floor close to the maiden who continued gently rocking herself
as she read. "Nana," said Dalima in the softest whisper which sounded
like a gentle sigh, "Nana!"

At the sound the young girl gave a sudden start, she dropped her
book and springing up from her seat, "Siapa ada?" (who is there)
she cried half in terror, half in surprise.

The daughter of the Resident stood there for a few moments in the
rays of the early sun, a perfect picture of loveliness. Her forehead
of the purest ivory-white was surrounded by a rich mass of glossy
dark-brown curls, her nose and chin might have served as models to a
sculptor. But, though the features were faultlessly regular, the whole
face was full of animation and of life. The lips of the rosiest red
and of exquisite form resembled a freshly opened rosebud, the cheeks
were tinged with the glow of health and the large deep-brown eyes were
full of tenderness and plainly spoke of a gentle and loving disposition
within. The neck and bust of the young girl were modestly veiled under
the folds of a tastefully arranged "Kabaja" which, however, could not
hide the well-filled and perfectly rounded form it strove to conceal.

"Who is there?" she had cried as startled she had sprung up from
her chair.

"It is I, Nana," whispered Dalima in a scarcely audible voice.

The fair young girl, whom we have tried faintly to depict to the
reader, was called Anna. In ordinary conversation the servants
usually addressed her as "Nonna" (Miss). But Dalima, either by reason
of her youth or it may be because she was shy and gentle of nature,
was Anna's special favourite and enjoyed certain privileges with her
young mistress over the other servants; she was indeed looked upon in
the light of a companion, and so she always used to call her "Nonna
Anna" which was first contracted into "Nonanna," and then became simply
"Nana." Thus the reader will perceive that the name "Nana" has nothing
whatever in common with Zola's disgusting production, nor yet with
the inhuman monster who made himself so sadly notorious at Cawnpore.

At the words "It is I, Nana," Anna looked down and no sooner saw Dalima
seated at her feet than she recovered from her scare. She offered to
raise the maiden who, however, maintained her position on the floor
of the verandah. "You here, Dalima," cried she; "where in the world
have you been? Mamma is dreadfully angry with you. Where have you
come from?"

"Nana," she replied, "I have been carried off!"

"By whom?" asked Anna.

"By some of Lim Ho's men," said Dalima.

"Lim Ho?" cried Anna now really frightened, "Lim Ho? What, have you
been in his power?"

"Yes I have," said the young girl.

"What, all night?"

"No," replied Dalima, "No, not all night; Allah has been my protection
and--"

"So, so! That gadabout has come home at last, has she?" cried a voice
which caused both the girls to start with terror.

It was Anna's mother, who just then came into the pandoppo without
having been noticed either by her daughter or by Dalima.

She came straight from her bathroom as was evident from the rich black
hair which flowed waving down her back, and had completely wetted
the kabaja she wore, while she had covered her neck and shoulders
with a bathing-towel of the finest material.

Bending her head backwards she drew the towel from under her hair
and handed it to the nènèh (old Javanese woman) who followed her,
with the order to go and dry it immediately.

Madam Laurentia van Gulpendam, whose maiden name was Termolen,
was a stately matron, fully thirty-five years of age, and was still
extremely beautiful. Years and maternity had not made much impression
upon her charms. She had but one child, Anna, and fearing that the
natural duties of a mother might impair her beauty, she had confided
her daughter to the care of a nurse. In spite, however, of all
precautions, the influence of time was now beginning to make itself
felt, and though it could not be denied that Laurentia carried the load
of years proudly enough, yet lately she had found the necessity of
bringing certain powders and certain mysterious toilette-confections
into requisition, to help out the somewhat fading complexion and
(to use an elegant expression of her husband who had had something
to do with the sea, and was always interlarding his conversation
with nautical terms) to caulk here and there an indiscreet, and too
obtrusive wrinkle. Here and there also a silver thread might have
been detected among the wealth of jet-black hair, had not the Nènèh
Wong Toewâ, been anxiously watchful, and at its very first appearance
plucked out the traitor. The finely formed lips also had begun to
lose somewhat of their bright carnation; and the corners of the mouth
were beginning to droop. But for these tokens of advancing age also,
the nènèh was on the watch. For preserving the mouth she had a sourish
kind of fluid prepared from the red ant which she used as "vinaigre
de toilette," and for the wrinkles she had an ointment made of the fat
of lizards, in which when boiling hot sundry scorpions and centipedes
had met a painful death. But Nènèh Wong Toewâ was moreover an old,
experienced doctoress, and she had many other wonderful secrets in her
possession which she placed at the disposal of her mistress; and if the
stately Laurentia still kept her lawful lord and master enthralled by
her charms,--if the world around was still bound to confess that she
was a fine woman,--if her waist, her shoulders, her bosom did still,
in a ball-room, attract the greedy, admiring eyes of the men, and
awakened envy among the ladies--then to Wong Toewâ a great share of
these much coveted honours was due, and often from behind a screen the
old crone would stand unobserved and enjoy the triumph of her mistress,
and delight in the homage which followed her wherever she went.

Laurentia Termolen was the daughter of a former resident, and was
an exceedingly handsome and agreeable girl when, at the tender
age of sixteen, she became the wife of Mr. van Gulpendam who, at
that time, was controller of the Home Department, and her father's
right hand. Though born in India she was of European parents, both
on the mother's and father's side: and she had had the advantage
of an excellent education, that is to say, large sums of money had
been lavishly spent upon her. She had had the very best masters in
language, in music, in dancing, &c., she had even been sent to Holland
to receive the finishing touches. Now, under ordinary circumstances,
she might--nay she would have developed into an excellent woman; but
unfortunately for her, these ordinary and favourable circumstances were
wanting. For both papa and mamma were people of inordinate ambition,
and had, moreover, or perhaps in consequence of that ambition, one
ruling passion, the love of display. They wanted to make a great
figure in their little world, and to keep up an immense amount of
outward show. But all this cost money, much money, very much money,
and the means whereby they sought to obtain the necessary dross,
were not always such as would bear honest scrutiny. From her earliest
childhood, Laurentia had heard snatches of conversation, later on
she had been present at incidents, and had witnessed family quarrels,
in which dishonesty and prodigality strove for the mastery. Thus her
young mind had, of necessity, been poisoned, and germs of corruption
had been planted within her which were sure to bring forth the most
lamentable results.

If now, in Holland, she had but fallen into good hands, all this might,
to a great extent at least, have been remedied, and the poisonous
germs within her might perhaps have been stifled or their growth might
have been checked. But hers had been the case of so many Indian-born
children. She had always been looked upon as an object of financial
speculation, she had always been considered as a kind of gold mine
which her parents intended thoroughly to work and make the most
of. Thus a mere outward veneer of good manners and a mare "jargon
de bon ton" were thought amply sufficient; and of true education and
moral development there had, with her, never been any question at all.

Now, had but van Gulpendam been the right man for it, he might even at
the time of their marriage have made a total change in the disposition
of the young girl entrusted to his care. But van Gulpendam was a
man who had gone to India merely to make his fortune, and had but
one object, namely, to return as soon as possible, and especially
as rich as possible, to his own country. He was therefore the very
last man to set an example of honesty and purity, and his intimacy
with the Termolens had done nothing to counteract the evil that was
in him. Money-making was his only passion, and his union with fair
Laurentia had only served to make that sordid principle strike deeper
roots into his heart.

After her marriage Laurentia's duty was to follow her husband, who
took good care to obtain from his father-in-law none but places in
the interior and most remote parts of the island. Thus he had become
controller at Brandowo; after that, Assistant Resident at Bandjar
Oetara; both of these places where hardly a single European could
be found, and where consequently no one could watch the dodges and
tricks of the official household.

How he had managed to be on the most excellent terms with the Regent
who exacted taxes in kind, and at the same time also had the most
cordial relations with the representatives of the opium farmers,
who found it necessary to throw dust into the eyes of the Dutch
authorities; and how she had lent out money to the natives on the
most exorbitant interest for which she did not scruple to take,
as securities, valuable articles such as jewels and heirlooms, all
these dirty transactions had remained a profound secret and had not
prevented van Gulpendam from rising to the position of full Resident.

This long isolation had, moreover, the most pernicious effect upon
his grasping character, and upon the no less ambitious disposition of
his young wife. By continual contact with none but inferiors who bowed
down to them to the very ground, the bearing of Laurentia had grown to
be intolerably arrogant. She had become imperious woman personified,
and this grave blemish in her character was so entirely in harmony
with her outward appearance, that when she had to appear in public
on official occasions in the full dignity of "Resident's wife" she
might have served as model for a Juno.

Such then was the mother of Anna van Gulpendam, as she suddenly
stalked into the pandoppo and at the sight of Dalima straightway
fired up and cried out: "So! has that slut come in again?"

"Now then," she continued in her wrath, "tell me, you young monkey,
where have you been? You have been out, I'll be bound, dragging about
with that lover of yours!"

"Pardon, madam!" cried the young girl. "I did not run away. I did
not indeed!"

"And you did not leave master Leo running about by himself in the
garden?"

"I was carried off, madam," said the young girl.

"Carried off!" cried Mrs. van Gulpendam scornfully, "by whom, pray?"

"By two strange Chinamen," replied Dalima.

"How did that come to pass?" asked her mistress.

Thereupon Dalima gave her mistress a detailed account of her forcible
abduction by Ong Kwat, of which we have made mention above. We
ought here to add that "sienjo Leo" just mentioned was the son of
the Resident's brother, and that the boy had been staying for a
considerable time at the residence, his father at that time having
his home at Billiton.

"And where did they take you to?" enquired Mrs. van Gulpendam. There
was in her voice some little emotion, called forth no doubt by the
young girl's graphic description.

"They took me on board a big ship," said Dalima.

"Whose ship was that?"

"I don't know," replied Dalima. "I had not, however, been on board
long before Lim Ho came--"

"Lim Ho," cried Mrs. van Gulpendam now thoroughly roused!--"Lim Ho,
the son of the rich opium farmer!"

"That is the man," replied Dalima trembling as in utter confusion
she still was crouching at the feet of her Nonna Anna.

A very peculiar smile began to play upon Mrs. van Gulpendam's lips,
and a very peculiar fire began to sparkle in her eyes. "Anna," said
she to her daughter, "I wish you would just go and ask your father if
he would like a cup of coffee, and, if he does, get it him; will you?"

The young girl at once took the hint and disappeared.

As soon as she was gone Laurentia in feverish haste and with heaving
bosom turned to Dalima and said:

"Well, what then?"

Oh! poor Dalima understood that look so well, and little as she knew
of the world she knew so well why the "nonna" had been sent away. She
repressed her emotion however, and calmly enough she said:

"Lim Ho went to smoke opium."

"Of course, of course," said Laurentia, huskily, "of course he went to
smoke opium, before--" It is utterly impossible to convey in words any
idea of the expression on the face of Laurentia van Gulpendam as she
allowed the word "before" to slip from her lips. Those wildly gleaming
eyes, that projecting slightly quivering jaw, those half-open lips
which allowed the breath to pass with a slightly hissing sound, and
that full bosom heaving convulsively under the wet kabaja--all these
were the visible signs of passion raging unrestrained within. That
face betrayed the whole story, aye and even betrayed her regret that
van Gulpendam did not smoke opium.

"Well," she said at length, after having for a few moments stared at
Dalima; "well, and what happened then?"

"Nothing happened at all," was Dalima's quiet reply.

"Nothing," cried Laurentia; "that's a lie! Lim Ho would have had you
carried to his ship merely to--"

"Before he had done smoking," hastily interposed Dalima, "I was
rescued."

"Rescued! rescued! By whom?"

"By Ardjan," replied the girl, trembling more violently than before.

"By Ardjan? by Ardjan?" shouted her mistress. "Oh! you filthy
creature. Now I see it all. Of course you ran away from 'master Leo'
to go and have a game with your Ardjan, and now you want to put it
all upon Lim Ho. Wait a bit, I will--

"Gulpendam!" she shouted, "Gulpenda-a-m!" So shrill and so sharp
sounded her voice as she thus called for her husband, that a couple
of servants came rushing in thinking something terrible must have
happened.

"Call your master!" she cried to them.

"Pardon, madam, pardon!" cried poor Dalima in wailing tones.

"No, no," said her mistress, "no pardon for a creature like you."








CHAPTER IV.

THE PLOT THICKENS.


Mr. van Gulpendam came rushing in.

Stately and dignified as was the "Kandjeng toean Residèn" (High and
mighty Lord Resident), yet when fair Laurentia called in that tone
of voice he became briskness personified. A wicked world, indeed,
whispered that on such occasions he dared not for his life be one
whit less nimble.

The resident was, like his fair spouse, in undress; he had on only
a pair of pyjamas and a "Kabaja," and in this airy costume was
seated in the outer fore-gallery of the spacious residence, engaged
in leisurely sipping his coffee and enjoying his morning cigar,
when the voice of his wife was heard re-echoing through the house:
"Gulpendam, Gulpenda-am!"

As if electrified, at the last long drawn-out syllable, van Gulpendam
flew up out of his rocking-chair, and that with such violence and
speed, that he drove the thing flying away several feet behind him.

"Man, the umbrella, quickly!" he roared.

Besides the habitual and constant use of nautical terms to which we
have already alluded, van Gulpendam had another weakness; he would
always insist upon having the emblem of his authority, the pajoeng,
(umbrella) close by his side. In the very entrance of the official
mansion four of these umbrellas were placed in a stand by the
chair which the Lord Resident was wont to occupy. In his private
office another pajoeng stood close by his writing desk; in his
bedroom yet another was conspicuous at the head of the residential
bed-stead. Thieves might break in during the night, such was his
argument, and at the majesty of the mighty pajoeng would recoil
in horror. To that argument Laurentia, imperious though she was,
had had to bow, and had been forced to suffer the emblem of her
lord's supremacy in the inmost sanctuary of her bed-chamber; but
in the pandoppo where, in her capacity of mistress of the house,
she was determined to rule supreme--no pajoeng was ever allowed to
intrude. If the Resident wished to go out for a walk then it was
always "Man, the umbrella!" and the umbrella and the cigar-case and
the lighted slow match obediently followed his footsteps. Sometimes
when the great man would cool his forehead in the breeze, the servant
obsequiously carried the official gold-laced cap--reverently it was
carried behind him as a priest might bear some holy relic.

As van Gulpendam made his appearance in the pandoppo he was greeted
with the words, somewhat sternly uttered: "What business has that
pajoeng here? You know I won't have the thing in this place." And
turning very sharply upon the unhappy attendant, Laurentia cried: "Back
with you, away, quick!" and a single look from the master caused the
man to disappear with his umbrella faster, indeed, than he had entered.

"I say," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, addressing her husband, "Dalima
has come back. I want you just to guess where that good-for-nothing
creature has been to."

"What is the use of my trying to guess?" replied the husband. "She
has no doubt dropped anchor somewhere in the dessa."

"In the dessa," scornfully exclaimed the lady, "oh, no doubt. Not a
bit of it--she has been on the tramp with that Ardjan of her's."

"Pardon, madam!" cried the poor girl, who understood Dutch quite well
enough not to lose a syllable of her mistress's words.

"And now," Laurentia went on, all in a breath, "now she has came home
with quite a romantic tale. She pretends that she has been carried off,
forsooth, by Lim Ho, and that she has passed the night in a ship. Just
fancy that."

At the name of Lim Ho, and at the mention of the word "ship," the
Resident pricked his ears. The captain of the Matamata, the guardship,
had sent in a report in which he had said that the Kiem Ping Hin had
been cruising about the coast. That schooner-brig belonged to the
opium farmer, who was shrewdly suspected of being in close league
with the opium smugglers. Hence the attention of the Resident was so
suddenly arrested.

"What ship?" asked van Gulpendam, somewhat hastily.

"How should I know what ship?" replied his wife. "You had better ask
that wretched girl."

"Pardon, madam!" cried Dalima, as she was still cowering in great
terror on the floor of the pandoppo.

"Come, Dalima," said van Gulpendam, with some kindness in his voice,
"come now, my girl, just tell us what has really happened to you."

"Allah, master, they have caught Ardjan. Have pity!"

"They have caught Ardjan, you say," interrupted van Gulpendam,
"who have caught him?"

"Babah Than Khan and babah Liem King," replied the girl, weeping
bitterly.

"Oh ho," muttered her master to himself, and then turning to the girl
again, he said, aloud, "Where did they lay hands on him?"

"In the Moeara Tjatjing, toean," was the reply.

"In the Moeara Tjatjing," said van Gulpendam, musingly; "what brought
him there, I wonder?"

"He had just escaped with me," sobbed Dalima.

"That's it, now what did I tell you!" almost shrieked Laurentia.

"From the ship," added poor Dalima, between her sobs.

"Aye, no doubt!" cried her mistress. "Run away from this house. That
is nearer the truth!"

"For goodness sake," said the Resident, apart to his wife, "let the
girl get under weigh, or else we shall never get to land," and turning
to Dalima, he said: "Now come, first of all, let us hear how you got
on board the ship."

Thereupon, the poor girl, still seated cross-legged on the floor,
began to tell her master all that had befallen her from the time of
her forcible abduction out of his garden, to the moment that she had
succeeded in gnawing through the ropes which bound her, and had taken
to headlong flight.

Just as the girl was beginning her tale, Anna had quietly re-entered
the pandoppo, and thus heard the whole story.

"Well," said the Resident, when Dalima had ended the story of her
woes. "Well, that is a curious tale certainly; and now what about
Ardjan--did you leave him behind you at the Moeara Tjatjing?"

"Why, sir," replied Dalima, "he could not move, he was tied hand and
foot when the two Chinamen carried him off on the pole. They could not,
however, have taken him very far; for scarcely had I got my feet free,
before I saw their lanterns shining between the trees, and heard their
voices approaching. Had it been light enough they must have seen me
running away, and most probably I should never have got clear of them
at all."

"Then you suppose Ardjan is still there?" asked her master, somewhat
eagerly.

"That I cannot say, toean," replied Dalima. "I overheard them saying
to each other that they intended first to take Ardjan to the djaga
monjet, and then come back and fetch me."

"To the djaga monjet," hastily cried van Gulpendam. "Man! man!"

"If I were you," said his wife, as bitterly as she could, "I would
this time leave the pajoeng behind."

But without taking the slightest notice of the amiable remark,
the Resident turned to the servant, who had appeared at his call,
and said: "Man, you will go at once with a couple of your mates to
the Moeara Tjatjing. As you go you are to rouse the people of the
neighbouring dessas, and take as many of them with you as you think
you will require to help you, and then you will try and arrest Ardjan
the Javanese. Baboe Dalima there will show you the way."

"Oh, you believe the girl's story then?" contemptuously asked
Laurentia.

"Well, not all of it perhaps," replied her husband, "but anyhow it is
of the utmost importance that the matter should be cleared up." And
turning to his servant, he went on: "You carry out my orders to the
letter; do you hear? And now go, and take Dalima with you."

When both had disappeared, van Gulpendam said in a whisper to his
wife: "At the bottom of all this mystery, depend upon it, there is
some opium-scandal. Whenever Lim Ho's name is mixed up in anything,
there is something going on that must not see the light; and--if my
soundings are correct--then--the rich papa will have to pay the piper."

These words the Resident accompanied with a most expressive gesture,
moving his thumb and fore-finger as a man who is counting down
money. Mrs. van Gulpendam tried to stop him by looking significantly
at her daughter Anna.

"Oh, come, come," laughed the husband, "she is no longer a baby. When
you were her age you had seen a good deal more than that at your
parents'. She must by degrees get to understand where all the
housekeeping-money comes from." And drawing his daughter to him,
he said to her, as he patted her smooth cheek, "I am right, Anna,
am I not? When by-and-bye you are married, you will like to live in
a fine house like this, you will like to have your jewels like your
mother, you will want fine dresses, elegant carriages, the best and
most thorough-bred horses, eh?"

"Well, my dear father," replied the fair girl with a blush and a
most bewitching smile, "I suppose every girl would; however, I am
not particularly fond of all these things."

"Oh, no," interrupted the Resident with a laugh, "we know all about
that. All girls talk just as you do when they are your age. It
is always the same thing, 'Beauty when unadorned &c., &c.' But,"
he continued, "all that sentiment does not last very long; in time
women begin to see that the vital question is to appear as beautiful
as possible. And now, my girl, you run away, and go and have a look
to my breakfast; I have ordered it to be laid in the verandah and I
have asked my secretary van Nes to come and have it with me. You know
he is a man who knows what is good--so mind you look to the honour
of the galley."

When his daughter had left the pandoppo to do her father's bidding, he
turned to his wife and said: "Now, my dear Laurentia, just you listen
to me. In a day or two I have to pay our bill to John Pryce of Batavia,
it comes to 20,000 guilders, as you know, and of that sum I haven't
got the first thousand together yet. Now, if I am right about this
Lim Ho business, why then you will see, we shall have fair weather
enough for our money-question; oh yes, and we shall log a good bit
more than that--we shall have a nice little sum in the locker after
the bill is paid--that may come in handy--what do you say, eh?"

"Of course," replied his wife thoughtfully, "but then that running
away of Dalima, I don't like--"

"Now, now," cried her husband, "just you wait a bit, don't be in a
hurry, don't go running off the stocks too fast! If the girl's yarn
be true, then--yes--I am afraid that Lim Ho has been fishing behind
the net. And yet, when I come to look at it that is not so bad for us
either. It will only make him clap on more sail and--if we can only
keep our helm steady, then that little job may turn out a very nice
little breeze for us. A Chinaman, you know, will go far--aye he will
go very far to gratify his passions. So you just let me brace up,
and mind don't you go taking the wind out of my sails."

It was growing rather late in the evening--about half past seven--when
the Oppas, who had been sent out, returned and reported to his
master that, with Dalima's help, he had found Ardjan. The news came
to Mr. van Gulpendam just after he had risen from table, and was
sitting with his wife and daughter in the cool front gallery of the
sumptuous Residential mansion. They were awaiting the arrival of some
friends and acquaintances who were, on that evening, to partake of
the family's friendly and sociable hospitality. Yes--we use the words
friendly and sociable hospitality; for the van Gulpendams, with all
their faults, were very hospitable, and could be most friendly and
sociable. Of course their intense worldliness and love of display had
a great deal to do with their hospitality; but it was so tempered by
the bon-ton of both host and hostess that, on such evenings as this,
their ostentation was hardly, if at all, perceptible. This was to be
a friendly and sociable evening. On such evenings not every one had
the entrée of the Residence; they were, in fact, quite different from
the grand official receptions.

These formal receptions took place regularly, once a week,
on Wednesday. Then lower officials, subaltern officers, leading
men of commerce, planters, strangers, in one word mere official
visitors were received. On these grand occasions the Lord Resident
would appear in state, clad in light-blue cloth coat with silver
buttons, in white cashmere trousers, in all the splendour, in short,
which his high office could shed upon poor mortal man. Then also his
handsome wife decked out in all her jewellery would flaunt about like a
gorgeous peacock. But at such receptions not a gleam, not a vestige of
friendliness or sociability could be discovered within the walls of the
house. Then on the one side, there was nothing but pride, conceit and
arrogance, and, on the other, all was humility and obsequious cringing
with here and there a little touch of half-concealed mockery. But the
ordinary evening gatherings were for intimate friends and highly-placed
officials who, by reason of their position or wealth, could venture
familiarly to approach the Residential throne. Invitations there were
none; but certain dignitaries were sure to put in an appearance,
such as the Commandant of the garrison who was a Colonel at least,
the President of the High Court of Justice, the Chief of the Medical
Staff, the President of the Local Board of Trade, and such like. All
these good people came without ceremony, without compliment, stood
and chatted for a moment or two with Mrs. van Gulpendam or said a
few pretty things to her fair daughter, shook hands with the Resident
in a friendly way, talked over the bits of news of the day and then
settled down at the little card-tables for a quiet game. As a rule
Mrs. van Gulpendam would take a hand, and, it must be said, that she
was by no means amongst the least lucky of the players, especially
when, towards the end of the evening, the play began to run rather
high. Of this love of play dear little Anna used to make excellent
use. As soon as she had seen the guests properly attended to, she would
slip away indoors, take her seat at her piano, and there would give
herself up to the full enjoyment of Chopin or Beethoven or Mozart,
whose masterpieces the young girl revelled in and would study with
the enthusiasm of a born musician.

Such was to be this evening's programme, though as the sequel will
show, the music was to serve quite another purpose.

When the "Oppas" had, in minute detail, reported all he had learnt
to know about poor Ardjan, and how he had conveyed the Javanese who
was in a burning fever, to the hospital to be there further taken
care of--the countenance of his chief brightened up wonderfully.

"The deuce, the deuce," he muttered between his teeth, "that bit of
a joke with the devil-nettle may come to cost Lim Ho's worthy papa
a pretty penny!"

From a distance Mrs. van Gulpendam was eagerly watching the emotions
which were pretty clearly reflected on her husband's countenance. But
the good humour of the Resident rose to absolute satisfaction when
the man went on reporting to him that his people, with the assistance
of the inhabitants of the dessa, had discovered certain small casks
and tins carefully stowed away in the dense underwood, and which,
in all probability, contained opium.

"Who, do you say, found these things?" asked the Resident.

"Oh!" said the Oppas, "all of us."

"What," fell in van Gulpendam, somewhat taken aback, "did the dessa
folk see them as well as you?"

"Engèh (yes), Kandjeng toean," replied the man, who was seated
cross-legged in front of his master.

The reply evidently did not please his excellency at all, and his
displeasure was plainly reflected in his face.

"And where did you make this haul?" he continued. "Have you brought
it along with you?"

"Pardon me, Kandjeng toean," replied the Oppas, "I had the things
taken to the chief inspector of police."

"Stupid ass!" muttered van Gulpendam almost inaudibly.

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," was the stolid reply--the man did not
understand the epithet.

The word "Engèh" is always in the mouth of a Javanese whenever he
addresses a European. He will give that answer even when he has not
understood a word of what has been said to him, and it must not be
taken to express any opinion of his own, but it is simply a meaningless
and polite kind of consent to whatever his superior may choose to
say to him. Van Gulpendam thoroughly knew the Javanese character,
and was therefore not the least surprised at his man's answer.

"Go," said he, "to the inspector and tell him that I want him to come
to me at once." The servant still retaining his posture, pushed himself
backward for a few paces, then sprang up and hurried off to carry out
his master's order. A few moments later, after the usual greetings
and compliments had been exchanged, the conversation became general.

Anna seized this opportunity, and quietly slipped away, scarcely
noticed by any one present. Dalima, she knew, had returned, and
she was full of curiosity to hear what had become of Ardjan. She
had managed to overhear a few scraps of her father's conversation
with the "Oppas," but had not been able to get at the truth of the
story. When she reached the pandoppo she found Dalima there, seated,
cross-legged as usual, but with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What in the world has happened to you, Dalima?" cried she. "Do tell
us all about it."

"O Nana," cried the poor girl, "they have abused my Ardjan so
shamefully!"

And thereupon she told her mistress in what a pitiable state she
had found her lover. "Oh," she sobbed, "if I could have got there a
little sooner!"

"But, who has treated him so dreadfully?" cried Anna full of sympathy.

"Lim Ho," replied Dalima.

"Lim Ho?" said Anna. "Why, what was he doing there?"

"That I can't tell you," replied the girl. "All I can say is that I
recognised him quite plainly as he was rowed past the djaga monjet
'out of the Moeara Tjatjing.'"

"Oh, you may have been mistaken, Dalima," said her young mistress.

"Mistaken, Nana! Oh no," replied the girl. "I could see him clench
his fist in anger when he caught sight of me. I feel sure, indeed,
he would have put back had he dared; and the few words Ardjan could
speak have made me certain it was he."

"But," asked Anna, "what could have induced him to torture the poor
fellow so unmercifully with the kamadoog?"

"I am sure I don't know," said Dalima, colouring; "perhaps it was
because Ardjan is my sweetheart; it may be because he rescued me
from the Kiem Ping Hin. Oh, dearest Nana," continued the poor girl,
with a flood of tears, "poor dear Ardjan has gone mad, he does nothing
but rave."

"And where is he now?" asked Anna, striving to quiet the sobbing girl.

"He is in the hospital; the police took him there after they had gone
to fetch the inspector."

"The inspector?" cried Anna. "What had he to do with it?"

"The men took some small casks and some tins which they had found,
to his house," was Dalima's reply.

"Opium!" exclaimed Anna, now really frightened. "Where did they find
the horrid stuff?"

"They found it close to the hut where Ardjan was tortured."

"Close to the hut, you say," cried Anna. "They found it at the same
time that they discovered Ardjan?"

"Yes, Na," faltered Dalima, scarcely audibly.

For a moment the fair girl stood as if lost in thought. "I hope
it will not compromise poor Ardjan," said she, musingly, and then,
having collected her thoughts, she again turned to Dalima, and said:

"Were you quite alone with Ardjan when you left the ship in the
djoekoeng?"

"Quite alone, Nana."

"You are sure, there was nothing in the djoekoeng when you got into
her? Now think well."

"Quite sure, Nana, nothing whatever," replied Dalima. "How could
there be? We slid along a bit of rope into the boat, while the storm
was howling all round us, and glad enough we were to get out of the
ship and away from her as soon as possible."

Nonna Anna reflected for a few moments. Then she started as if a
sudden thought had struck her, ran into her own room, which adjoined
the pandoppo, and soon returned carrying with her a writing case. She
put it down before one of the lamps which were burning there, and
hurriedly scribbled a little note. When she had sealed it, she handed
it to the maid, and said:

"Now, Dalima, listen to me. Do you really love Ardjan, and are you
anxious to save him?"

"Oh, Nana," cried the poor girl, ready again to burst into tears;
"how can you ask that?"

"Very well," said Anna, quietly, "then take this note to Mr. van
Nerekool, you understand?"

"Oh yes, I know," cried the girl; "he lives in Aboe Street close by
the Catholic Church. But it is so far away, and it is now so late."

"Then you had better tell Sodikromo, the gardener's boy, to go with
you," said Anna. "You can take a 'sâdos' (dos-à-dos) and you will
soon be there and back--So now quick--make haste."

It did not take Sodikromo long to get the vehicle ready, and soon he
and Dalima were on their way with the nonna's message.

While this was going on in the pandoppo, Mr. and Mrs. van Gulpendam
were receiving their guests, who kept on gradually arriving, with
the courtesy and suavity they could so well put on.

"Well, that is kind of you, colonel, I call it really very kind of you
to remain faithful to our little party," said Laurentia to a gentleman
who had just come in. He was in plain clothes; but his bearing and
his white hair closely clipped and his bristling moustache plainly
proclaimed him a soldier.

"And why, madam," replied he, "what may have led you to suppose
that I would have denied myself the pleasure of presenting myself
here to-night?"

"Van Gulpendam has told me," replied the hostess, "that there has
been very ugly news from Atjeh, and that a considerable part of our
garrison would have to leave. So I took it for granted that you would
be much too busy to--"

"Do what, madam?" said the colonel, smiling.

"To come and take my hand here as usual?"

"By no means, I can assure you that a good deal would have to happen
before I would forego the pleasure of your charming society. Oh,
no," he continued, "I have given my orders--the rest, the chief of
my staff will see to."

"And you," said Laurentia, turning to another of her newly-arrived
guests, "have not these sad tidings given you a great deal to do? A
very large medical staff will have to accompany the expedition--at
least, as member of the Red Cross I have received some such intimation
from Batavia."

"No, madam," replied the gentleman thus addressed, who was
chief medical officer at Santjoemeh. "I have not to complain of
overwork. Every provision for our expedition to Atjeh has been made
and I need not trouble my head about it any more. But, for all that,
I can assure you that I was in real danger of being obliged to miss
your pleasant party this evening."

"Indeed," said Laurentia, with much assumed interest, "I hope there
is no case of serious illness among our friends, doctor?"

"I am glad to say there is not, madam," replied the doctor. "But,
as I was at my dinner this afternoon, the young surgeon on duty at
the hospital came running in to tell me that I was urgently wanted. A
young native, he said, had been brought in by the police, who was in
a most dreadful condition, suffering from something which completely
puzzled him. His diagnostica was altogether at fault."

"His--what was at fault, did you say, doctor?" enquired Mrs van
Gulpendam.

"His diagnostica, madam," replied the surgeon. "That is the name,
you know, we give to the science by which we recognize a special form
of disease. Well, as the young fellow assured me that the patient was
in an extremely critical state--in fact in extremis--I had no choice
but to go and see him. You know, dear madam," proceeded the surgeon,
sententiously, "a physician's devotion must be that of a priest."

"Oh, I know, of course," replied Laurentia, with a slight smile;
"but pray go on."

"Well," continued the surgeon, "I went all the way to the hospital. And
now, just guess what was the matter!--Oh, those young doctors of the
new school! The fellow had his mouth full of fine words--of absent
diaeresis, of efflorescentia, of formicatio, of hemianthropia, and
what not. But he couldn't see with all his brand new science, that
he had to do with a very simple--though I must own--a most severe
case of urtication."

"A severe case of what?" enquired Laurentia.

"Why, madam, of urtication," replied the doctor, "the man
had undergone, somehow or other, a most severe flogging with
nettle-leaves."

"Nettle-leaves!" exclaimed van Gulpendam, breaking into the
conversation, his interest being thoroughly aroused at the doctor's
words. "These things," he continued, "are called in Javanese, I think,
Kamadoog--are they not, doctor?"

"Precisely so, Resident, you are quite right," was the surgeon's reply.

"Pray, doctor, do go on with your story," said van Gulpendam. "Ten
knots an hour if you please."

"Well," said the doctor, "that foolish young fellow might have let me
finish my dinner in peace. There was nothing to be done in the case
but what the people of the dessa had done already, the parts most
afflicted had to be covered with sirih-chalk and the other parts with
oil. It was very simple. The man was, of course, in a burning fever,
but I need not have been disturbed for that, there are antifebrilia
and antidinika in abundance in store, he might have administered them
without calling me in."

"And how long," asked van Gulpendam, somewhat eagerly, "do the effects
of such an urtication, as you call it, last?"

"Oh, that is impossible to say, that depends entirely upon how the
nettle has been applied. This patient of ours has had an uncommonly
heavy dose of it, and, in my opinion, the fever will last some
forty-eight hours. Then, I hope, it will abate, but it will be quite
a fortnight before the man is on his legs again."

"A fortnight," said van Gulpendam, with a frown. "Why, that is a
long time."

"Yes," said the surgeon, "it will be quite a fortnight, and then only
if all goes well."

"And tell me," continued the Resident, "will it leave any serious
consequences?"

"None whatever, my dear sir. If the patient once gets well over the
fever, there will be none."

"But surely," insisted van Gulpendam, "there will be scars and the
skin will be discoloured."

"Certainly not--nothing of the kind," replied the other.

"So that," continued the Resident, "after the cure there will be no
visible proofs of the treatment he has received?"

"There will be none. But, Resident, why all these questions? Perhaps
you take some special interest in the man?"

"Not I," said van Gulpendam, carelessly, but yet with some
confusion. "Why should I? I know nothing about the case, I have heard
nothing about it; but I have heard so much of the terrible effects
of the Hoekoem Kamadoog that I often have wished to learn something
more about it."

Other guests were arriving, and so the conversation dropped. After
the usual greetings the card-tables were occupied, while Anna was
busying herself at the tea-table. Play had, however, scarcely begun
before the chief inspector of police was announced. He paid his
respects to the lady of the house, interchanged a few words with
some of his acquaintance, and then turning to the Resident he said:
"I beg your pardon, sir, for thus disturbing you; but the message I
received, left me no choice but to intrude myself upon you at once."

"Quite right, quite right, Mr. Meidema," said the host, as he rose
from his seat and turning to his partners he said: "Gentlemen, you
must oblige me by playing a three-handed game for a few minutes,
I have urgent business with Mr. Meidema."

The two officials entered a side-chamber which opened upon the gallery,
and after having carefully shut the door, Mr. van Gulpendam, without
preface whatever, said to the inspector:

"Mr. Meidema, you have made a considerable capture of opium to-day,
I hear."

"Yes, Resident," was the reply, "three buttertubs full, and fifteen
tins have been delivered into my custody. In the tubs the opium was
packed just like butter, one little tub of ten kilos, inside a larger
one, and surrounded by coarse salt. The tins contain about five kilos
each. The whole amounts to about one and a half 'pikols.'"

"So, so," said van Gulpendam, "that is a pretty good haul."

"Which are worth," continued Meidema, "I should say, about nine
thousand guilders."

"How do you make that out?" asked the Resident. "You know Government
delivers the raw opium to the farmers at the rate of 30 guilders the
kattie. Now, 30 × 150, is, according to my reckoning, no more than
four thousand five hundred guilders. I am right, am I not?"

"You are perfectly right, sir," replied Meidema. "But you must remember
that this is not raw material. We have got hold of tjandoe, and you
know, I suppose, that one kattie of raw opium gives only fifteen
thirty second parts of pure tjandoe."

"I daresay you are right," said the other. "But," he added, fixing a
very strange look upon his inspector, "are you quite sure it is opium?"

Without appearing to notice his superior officer's look, Meidema
answered at once: "It is something better than that, sir, it is
tjandoe. Look at the sample, I have one here with me. It is the purest
Bengal article."

"Hadn't we better," said van Gulpendam, "submit that sample to a
chemist for analysis?"

"Just as you please," said Meidema; "but I see not the slightest need
for that. It is tjandoe, and it contains, at least, twenty or thirty
per cent of morphia."

"Indeed," quoth van Gulpendam. "I was only thinking--Well, it is your
business, you know what is best. The contraband has been placed in
your custody. You know, I suppose, where it came from?"

"Oh yes, sir, I know where it came from. Your chief servant told me
that it was put on shore from the Kiem Ping Hin, and you know--"

"From the Kiem Ping Hin," hastily exclaimed van Gulpendam. "What
makes you think that?"

"What makes me think that?" slowly repeated Meidema. "Why, Resident,
I told you just now your chief servant told me so."

"Man, man," cried the Resident, in a loud voice.

The servant thus summoned appeared; and then turning to Mr. Meidema
and pointing to the Javanese, the Resident said: "Is that the man
who told you this?"

"Yes, sir," said Meidema, "that is the man."

"Man," said the Resident, as he sternly fixed his eye upon his Javanese
servant, "that opium which you delivered to the toean Inspector,
was found upon Ardjan--was it not?"

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," was the man's reply. "But"--

"I will have no 'buts,'" cried van Gulpendam, "simply yes or no."

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," said the man again stolidly.

"You hear it, Mr. Meidema?"

"Oh yes, Resident, I hear it," replied the inspector, in a strange
tone of voice.

"Very well, then," continued his superior officer, "you will please to
draw up your official report in accordance with that man's evidence."

"But, sir--" began the other.

"I will have no 'buts,'" interrupted van Gulpendam, sharply. "All
you have to do is to do your duty."

"Have you any other commands for me, Resident?" drily asked the
inspector, with a stiff bow.

"No, thank you--none at present."

A few moments later the card parties were in full swing, and Laurentia,
who was holding splendid hands, was in unusually high spirits, and
exceedingly talkative.

"Humph," muttered her husband, as he took his seat at his own
table. "She is beginning rather early--rather too early I am afraid."








CHAPTER V.

MUSIC HATH CHARMS.


Just as Mr. Meidema was leaving the Residence in his brougham, another
carriage drove up and Mr. van Nerekool walked up the steps which gave
access to the gallery in which the company was assembled.

It may have struck the reader as somewhat strange that so young, so
well-educated and so refined a girl as Anna van Gulpendam assuredly
was, should have ventured to write to the young lawyer, and strange
also that the latter should so speedily have answered her summons in
person. But, in the first place, it is well to remember that, when she
wrote that letter Anna, completely carried away by the sore distress
of Dalima, and, in the kindness of her heart, most anxious to do what
she could for her favourite servant, acted purely upon impulse; and
had not stopped to consider that perhaps her action might be looked
upon as somewhat forward and indelicate. Further it must be said,
that although never a word of love had passed between them, yet they
were united in the very strongest bond of sympathy--such sympathy as
always will draw together true and noble natures whenever they happen
to meet. As they were themselves perfectly honest and guileless; no
paltry suspicions could possibly arise on either side. That this strong
bond of sympathy did exist between Anna van Gulpendam and young Mr. van
Nerekool, cannot be denied; but for the present at least, there was no
more than this. Whether or not that bond would ever be drawn closer and
give place to more intimate and tender relations the sequel will show.

"Good evening, madam," said van Nerekool as he made his bow to the
hostess, "I hope I have the pleasure of finding you well."

"There's that fool again! What has that booby come on board for I
wonder?" grumbled van Gulpendam, while fair Laurentia answered the
young man's greeting as amiably as possible.

"Well, Mr. van Nerekool, this is indeed kind of you," said she. "We
are glad to see you! You do not wear out your welcome. We only too
seldom have the pleasure of seeing you!"

"Very good indeed of you to say so, Mrs. van Gulpendam; but, you
know, I don't much care for cards and, in the presence of such an
adept as you are, I cannot help feeling myself, to say the least,
somewhat of a fâcheux troisième." As he was speaking his eye at a
glance took in the whole company but failed to light on her whom it
sought. So turning to the gentlemen he said: "Well, Resident, I need
not enquire after you, nor after your health, colonel, nor yours,
my dear doctor; anyone can see there is not much the matter with
you. How are the cards serving you this evening? I hope you are in
luck," continued he to the secretary seated at the other table.

"Not over well," muttered van Nes. "I was getting on pretty fairly
just at first but--"

"Ah, Mr. van Nerekool," cried Mrs. van Gulpendam in the best of
spirits; "you should have come a few minutes earlier, you should have
seen my last hand. Why I held--"

"Will Mr. van Nerekool take tea or coffee?" said a silvery voice
interrupting the threatened explanation.

The young man turned at once. "Good evening, Miss Anna," said he
most heartily. "How are you? But I need not ask, you look like a
fresh-blown Devonshire rose, so charming, so--"

"Will you take tea or coffee?" said Anna, demurely, with an arch
smile at the young man's compliments.

"Did you make the coffee yourself, Miss Anna?"

"Oh, no," replied the still smiling girl, "our cook always makes it."

"And the tea?" asked van Nerekool also with a smile.

"Yes, that is my department, Mr. van Nerekool."

"I will take a cup of tea if you please."

"Our cook makes most excellent coffee, I assure you," cried Mrs. van
Gulpendam.

"I don't doubt it," replied the young man, with a slight bow. "I do
not for a moment question her talent, madam; but, if you will allow
me, I prefer a cup of tea. It reminds one of home, you know. If you
please, Miss Anna, may I ask you for a cup of tea?"

"On one condition," said the young girl, playfully.

"It is granted at once," replied the young man. "Now, what is it?"

"That you will presently accompany me in 'Fleurs d'oranger.' You know
Ludovic's charming duet, do you not?"

Van Nerekool made a wry face and slightly raised his hands in a
deprecating manner.

"Oh," continued the young girl, laughing. "You may look as solemn as
a judge on the bench; but I won't let you off. The 'Fleurs d'oranger'
or no tea--there you have my ultimatum. My ultimatum, that is what they
call the last word before a declaration of war, don't they, colonel?"

"Quite right, Miss Anna," said the old soldier, who, wholly engrossed
in his cards, had heard nothing but the last words of the question.

"An ultimatum," cried van Nerekool, "a declaration of war? Who would be
so mad as to declare war against you? No, no; sooner than be suspected
of that I would play 'Fleurs d'oranger' the whole evening!"

"There you go to the other extreme," laughed Anna, "that is always the
way with you lawyers, at least papa says so; you are always finding
paragons of perfection or else monsters of iniquity."

"No, no, we are not so bad as all that, Miss Anna!" said van
Nerekool. "But will you allow me for a few moments to watch your
mother's play and take a lesson from her?"

"Do so, by all means," said Anna, "meanwhile I must go and pour out
the tea and see to the other refreshments, and when I have done I
mean to play a sonata of Beethoven."

"Beethoven!" cried van Nerekool, "most delightful, Miss Anna, do let
me beg of you to give us the second sonata in D dur Op. 36."

"What tyrants you gentlemen are," replied the young girl. "Very
well, you shall have your sonata, but, after that, remember, 'Fleurs
d'oranger.' Now go and take your lesson."

The young lawyer went and took a seat behind Mrs. van Gulpendam's
chair, and, although he did not pretend to any great knowledge of
cards, yet he could not help admiring that lady's fine and close play,
while Anna did the honours of the tea-table, and was busily tripping
about to see that the servants did not neglect their duties, and that
the guests were properly attended to.

As he was seated there behind fair Laurentia, and was attentively
studying her cards, the glow of light which numerous splendid
chandeliers shed over the entire gallery, finely brought out his
clearly cut profile.

Charles van Nerekool was a man of five or six and twenty years
of age. After he had most honourably completed his studies at the
university of Leyden, he had been appointed junior member of the
Court of Justice at Santjoemeh when, a few months back, he had arrived
from Holland.

He was a tall, fair-haired man, scrupulously neat in his attire, and
most careful of his personal appearance. His fine, sharply chiselled
features had not yet lost their European freshness and bloom, and
were well set off by a thick curly beard and moustache, some shades
lighter than his hair. His winning manners, which were those of a
courteous and highly-bred gentleman, perfectly harmonized with his
handsome countenance, and he was universally esteemed an accomplished
and most agreeable companion. But, though society had justly formed a
high opinion of him, there was one point in his character which would
not allow him ever to become a popular man. He was a lawyer in the
truest and noblest sense of the word. A man who, deeply versed in
the law, yet would tolerate nothing that was not strictly just and
upright. Quibbling and casuistry had no attractions for him; he was,
in fact, honest as gold and true as a diamond.

Hence his manner of speech was always frank and
straightforward--oftentimes he was too plain spoken, for he would
not and could not condescend to wrap up his real sentiments in fine
words or ambiguous phrases. Anyone therefore, who has the slightest
knowledge of the present state of society, may readily understand
why the number of his real friends was but small. A strict sense of
justice, a noble frankness of expression, and an intense love of truth,
for truth's sake, are, unfortunately, not the qualities which serve
to push a man forward most quickly in the official world--at least
not in the official world of India. Van Gulpendam, especially--though
he could not close his doors to a man in van Nerekool's position,
heartily detested him, and had repeatedly expressed his dislike to
the old judge who presided over the Council at Santjoemeh.

"Ah well!" this latter had, on one occasion, said to him, "you
are rather too hard upon our young colleague. Remember this Mr. van
Nerekool is but a newly fledged chicken. You will see when he has been
here a year or two he will turn out a very useful fellow indeed. Why,
every one of us had, at his age, just those fine idealistic views of
life which he now holds."

This answer made our worthy friend, van Gulpendam, look rather
queer. His conscience, at any rate, did not accuse him of fine
principles and idealistic views,--not such views, at least, as those
for which he found fault with van Nerekool.

The young man was still seated behind Laurentia's chair, attentively
keeping his eye on her cards.

"I cannot say," said the lady with a forced smile, "that you improve
my luck. Since you have been sitting there I have scarcely picked up
a card worth looking at. I wish you would go and have a look at the
Resident's hand.--"

"Thank you," cried her husband, "much obliged, you want to give me
a spell of bad fortune."

There are no more superstitious people in the world than your veteran
card-players.

At Mrs. van Gulpendam's not very reasonable or very courteous remark,
van Nerekool had of course risen, and the Resident's exclamation made
him feel rather awkward; he did not, in fact, very well know what to
do, when the young lady of the house came to the rescue.

"Now Mr. van Nerekool," said she, "my 'Fleurs d'oranger!' what has
become of them? It is time to begin, I think."

"And my sonata in D dur," replied the young man, "what has become of
it? I have not heard a single note of it yet."

"True," she said, "I had quite forgotten it; come and turn over the
music for me."

"Yes, that's right," said fair Laurentia, "you go and turn over the
music," and for an instant she looked at the young people as they
retired together and then fixed her eyes once again upon her cards.

"Now, you see," continued she, "what did I tell you, no sooner has
he turned his back than I get quite different cards!"

"Oh," muttered van Gulpendam from his table, "I can't bear to have
a fellow prying into my hand. If he does not wish to play what does
the booby want to come here for at all, I wonder?"

"H'm," said the old colonel, "perhaps he is anxious to learn."

"To learn," contemptuously echoed van Gulpendam, "he will never be
any good at cards, he is not practical enough for that!"

"I quite agree with you, Resident," said the judge somewhat drily,
"a man who is not of a practical turn of mind will never make much
of a hand at cards."

"No, nor at anything else either," grumbled van Gulpendam; "come,
let us go on with the game. It is my lead. Hearts, I say."

The two young people had entered the inner gallery and were no sooner
out of sight of the company, before van Nerekool began:

"I have received your note, Miss Anna, and, as you see, I have hastened
to obey your summons."

"For goodness sake speak lower," whispered she. And then in her usual
tone of voice she continued: "Just help me, please, to find the music."

Whilst they were engaged in taking the pieces one by one out of a
curiously carved étagère which stood by the piano and examining them,
the young girl said in a whisper: "Yesterday our baboe Dalima was
forcibly carried away out of the garden--Hush! do not interrupt me or
I shall not have time to tell you all. The author of the outrage is
Lim Ho. She has, however, been most providentially rescued by Ardjan,
the man to whom she is engaged to be married. Thereupon Lim Ho has
had him most fearfully tortured with Kamadoog leaves--so dreadfully
that he is now in the hospital--"

"Look here, Miss Anna, I have found your 'Fleurs d'oranger,'" said
van Nerekool aloud as he heard some one moving outside.

"Yes, thank you," replied Anna. "But what can have become of that
sonata? Here it is," she continued in the same tone of voice, "I
have it; but pray, Mr. van Nerekool, put that heavy pile of music on
the piano."

"Oh," said he, "you intend to give us the sonata before the waltz?"

"Yes," said Anna, "that is best I think;" and then she continued
softly, "I know that sonata so perfectly that I can go on talking
while I am playing it by heart."

She sat down to the instrument, van Nerekool standing close by her
side ready to turn over the leaves for her.

Anna struck the first notes of Beethoven's magnificent work while
she continued: "As I was telling you, Ardjan had to be taken to the
hospital in consequence of the brutal treatment he had received. But
that is not what made me write to you."

"What was it then?" whispered van Nerekool eagerly. "I am all ears,
Miss Anna."

"Well then," said she, "pay attention to me."

And while the nimble fingers of the talented girl ran over the keys,
while she rendered in most masterly style the lovely reveries of
the inspired musician--strains which full of sweetness yet here
and there seem clouded by the great gloom which was impending over
the author's future life--she told the young man the whole story of
Dalima's abduction, of her rescue by Ardjan, in what wretched plight
the poor Javanese had been found, and she told him also that close by
the place where they found him a considerable quantity of smuggled
opium had been discovered, and had been delivered into the custody
of the chief inspector of police.

Van Nerekool had not for a single instant turned his eye from the
music, he had never once made a mistake in turning over the pages;
but yet he had been listening so attentively that not a single word
had escaped his ears. At the ill-omened word opium his countenance
fell. The young girl noticed the change of expression though she did
not allow her emotion to influence her play. Indeed she executed the
final movement of the sonata--that brilliant movement in which a very
flood of fancies all seem to unite in conveying the idea of perfect
bliss--in so faultless and spirited a manner, that the card-players in
the outer gallery, pausing for a few moments in their game to listen,
broke out in a loud chorus of applause.

"But do you know for certain, Miss Anna," said van Nerekool, under
cover of the noise, "that it was opium?"

"How should I know?" replied she before the clamour had subsided.

"But was that opium brought ashore by Ardjan and Dalima?"

"Most certainly not," said she in a whisper, "there was nothing of
the kind in the djoekoeng in which they came to land."

"How then did the stuff get there?" asked van Nerekool.

"Dalima could tell me nothing about it," continued the young girl. "And
now," she went on in her usual tone of voice, "now for the 'Fleurs
d'oranger!'"

"But," insisted van Nerekool in a scarcely audible whisper, "what
makes you fear that Ardjan will be suspected? As far as I can see
there is not a shadow of a suspicion against him, unless--"

"Hush!" said Anna, "presently--"

And then, as a pleasant sequel to Beethoven's sublime melody, the
sparkling notes of the delightful waltz were heard filling both
galleries with gay and pleasant music.

While the last chords were still re-echoing, the young girl answered
van Nerekool's question: "Just now," said she, "Mr. Meidema was with
my father and--" dear little Anna paused and hesitated.

"And?" said van Nerekool. "Come, Miss Anna, you must tell me all."

"I overheard part of their conversation--"

"Oh," said he, "you listened just a little bit?"

The poor girl blushed deeply, face, neck and ears were covered with
the glow. "Well yes," said she resolutely, "I did listen. I had heard
my father ordering the Oppas to go and fetch Mr. Meidema and somehow
I could not get rid of the suspicion that it had something to do with
Ardjan. When the inspector called I got behind the screen which masks
the door and--"

"Well, yes, Miss Anna, go on, you must tell me all."

"And then I heard all they said," continued she.

"What did you hear?" asked the young man, eagerly.

"All they said," she replied.

"Yes; but," continued he, "what did they talk about?"

"Oh! Mr. van Nerekool," said Anna, "I really cannot tell you all
that passed."

"Perhaps not; but yet you can remember the gist of their words. Do try,
Miss Anna."

"Mr. van Nerekool," said she; "I am not at all sure that I have a
right to--"

"But my dear Miss Anna, why then did you send for me? Just ask yourself
that question?"

"Oh!" sighed Anna, "I was so over-anxious to save Dalima's lover."

"Just so," replied he; "I can quite understand that; but in what way
can I possibly serve you unless you will trust me with all that took
place? As far as I can see at present, there seems not the remotest
reason why Ardjan should be accused of this smuggling business. Do
pray trust me, Miss Anna!"

"Oh! how I wish I could!" sighed the poor girl again. "How I wish I
could; but it is so very hard."

"What is your difficulty?" insisted the young man.

"That conversation between my father and Mr. Meidema," replied she.

"But come," she continued; "you are right; you must know everything
or nothing. I will tell you all."

Thereupon, burning with shame, the young girl repeated just what
had passed between the two officials. She concealed nothing--neither
the supposed value of the smuggled wares, nor Meidema's suspicions
as to their source, nor the examination of the chief servant. But
when she came to reveal the fact that her father had, in a manner,
forced the policeman to accuse Ardjan, the poor girl almost broke down.

Van Nerekool understood her confusion but too well, he knew enough and
felt too deeply how humiliating was her position to wish to prolong
the conversation. But before dismissing the subject he said:

"Just now you told me that Mr. Meidema had mentioned the name of the
ship from whence he suspected the opium to have been brought. Do you
happen to remember it?"

"Yes," said Anna; "I believe it was Hing Kim Lin, or Lin King Him,
or something of that kind."

"Was it perhaps Kiem Ping Hin?" asked the lawyer, in a very grave
voice. "Now think well before you answer."

"Yes, Mr. van Nerekool," she cried still in the same subdued tones,
"that was the name."

The young man could not suppress a sigh as he looked down sadly at
the fair girl beside him.

"Why do you look so strangely at me?" asked Anna in some alarm.

"Do you know to whom this Kiem Ping Hin belongs?" he asked.

"No," said she; "how should I?"

"Well, then, the Kiem Ping Hin belongs to Lim Ho."

"To Lim Ho? what, to the son of the opium farmer?" cried the girl,
covering her face with her hands as if she were trying to hide herself.

"That is the man," replied van Nerekool, as he looked down anxiously
at her.

Then Anna remembered the infamous dialogue between her parents at
which that morning she had been present. The hot tears of shame came
rushing into her eyes, forced their way through her closed fingers
and went trickling down her shapely hands as she sobbed out:

"Oh, my God! my God!"

"Miss Anna, dear Miss Anna," said van Nerekool, deeply moved at
the sight of her grief; "do be calm; pray, do not despair. I will
do all I possibly can to save that unfortunate man. I promise you
that solemnly."

"But, my father," cried Anna, as she hurriedly with her handkerchief
tried to wipe away the tears which were still flowing fast. "But,
my father?"

"Not a word of all this to him."

"Oh! no; Mr. van Nerekool," said she, "I do not mean that; but will
this wretched business compromise him in any way?"

"Not if I can help it," replied he; "I shall do my best to arrange
matters so as to leave him out of the question altogether. Trust me."

"Thank you, thank you," said Anna. "Now let us say no more. I will
go in and try to hide my feelings; you had better remain at the piano
for awhile."

"Yes," said he, "I shall go on playing something or other and then
I will take my leave."

In a quarter of an hour or so, van Nerekool was again standing behind
the card-players. The game was nearly over, they were just having
the last round and soon the company began to break up.

"Really, Mrs. van Gulpendam has too much luck," said the old colonel,
as he sat ruefully looking at the few scattered counters he had
before him.

Presently all had taken their leave and the Resident was standing
looking out at the departing guests when he heard a subdued voice
saying behind him:

"May I be allowed to say something, Kandjeng toean?"

Van Gulpendam turned and saw his chief servant seated cross-legged
beside him.

"What have you got to tell me?" asked he, abruptly.

"I made a mistake just now, Kandjeng toean," was the man's reply.

"A mistake," said the Resident; "what do you mean?"

"When I told the inspector toean that the opium was found on Ardjan."

"Brute!" roared van Gulpendam. "If you dare to retract your words
I give you the sack--I shall have you clapped into prison. Do you
hear me?"

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean," said the poor native with his usual drawl,
and placing his folded hands upon his forehead he respectfully and
submissively made his "sembah" (salaam).








CHAPTER VI.

A LUCKY DAY.


Van Nerekool's interference was destined to bear very little
fruit; but, on the other hand, it involved him in the most serious
troubles. He was so young, he was so utterly without experience of all
the complicated mazes of injustice which, in Dutch India, are found
in both the judicial and administrative departments as soon as ever
these are brought into contact with anything that touches the great
Opium monopoly.

A few weeks after his conversation with Anna van Gulpendam, she told
him, on the occasion of another visit which he paid to her family,
that Ardjan had been discharged from the hospital, but only to be
immediately committed to jail. Thereupon, van Nerekool began to make
inquiries from the President of the Council at Santjoemeh, and from
him he heard that the Javanese was lying in prison on an accusation
of smuggling opium in considerable quantities.

"But," added the President, Mr. Zuidhoorn, "there is, in this case,
one very curious feature, which I do not at all understand."

"Indeed," said van Nerekool, "what may that be?"

"Why, it is this," said Mr. Zuidhoorn. "Last week I received a letter
from the Resident, in which he tells me in what order and on what
dates he wants us to take the cases we have before us."

"Why," cried van Nerekool, "he has no right whatever to do that--such
dictation is perfectly illegal--it is directly contrary to the law!"

"Precisely so," continued Zuidhoorn. "And, as you may suppose, I
have flatly refused to obey his directions. But listen further. On
that list of his, Ardjan's trial is put the very last of all. Can
you make that out?"

"Well," said van Nerekool, "I daresay it is because he has no proofs
against the man. In fact, I feel persuaded that it is a mere trumped
up case, and knowing that it is so, he wishes to keep the man as
long as possible in custody, so that when ultimately he is acquitted,
he may have the satisfaction of saying: the fellow has been so many
months locked up for my pleasure."

Mr. Zuidhoorn cast a sharp look at his young colleague. "It may be
so," said he, after a pause, "however, that is not the view I take
of the matter."

"Indeed," said the other, "what, then, is your opinion?"

"Well," said Mr. Zuidhoorn, "you know, I suppose, that I have applied
for leave of absence on account of my health, and that I am going
to Holland?"

"I have heard so," replied the young man; "but what of that?"

"What of that?" repeated the President. "Don't you see! If the cases
should be taken in the order van Gulpendam directs, why then, we have
so many of them that Ardjan cannot possibly be tried before six or
eight weeks."

"Certainly, I see that," said van Nerekool; "but--"

"You see," continued the President, "by that time I shall be far
enough away."

"Quite so," rejoined the other; "but what does that matter? I suppose
some other judge will be appointed in your place to preside at
Santjoemeh, while you are absent."

A bitter smile curled the lip of Mr. Zuidhoorn. "Who knows?" said he,
"where that substitute may have to come from. Travelling in India is a
slow business. If, for instance, Mr. Raabtoon were called from Padang,
or Mr. Nellens had to come from Makassar, why, there are two months
gone before either of them can be properly installed, and meanwhile--"

"Meanwhile," interrupted van Nerekool, "they may appoint some other
member of the court for the time being, to get through the unfinished
cases."

"Yes," replied Mr. Zuidhoorn. "They could do that no doubt; but they
will not. You know well enough that in case of absence on leave,
the Resident has the power himself to preside at the Council."

"Yes," said van Nerekool; "what if he did?"

"If he did," continued Mr. Zuidhoorn, "it is obvious enough what
would happen. As soon as I am gone, the Resident will take Ardjan's
case himself."

"But, my dear sir," said van Nerekool, "why should he do such a thing?"

"How can I tell why?" replied the other. "You recollect how, some time
ago, a colonial minister wrote to the king and drew his majesty's
attention to the fact that officials are systematically bribed by
the opium farmers, and that thus the authority of those who have to
carry out the laws is undermined, seeing that they are wholly under
the influence of the Chinese opium farmers and smugglers. Look you,
my dear sir, I have much more experience in these matters than you can
have, and when I come to consider the evident anxiety there seems to
exist at headquarters, to have this case of Ardjan's put off to the
last, then I cannot but suspect that an attempt is being made to get
the case out of the hands of the unprejudiced and competent judge."

"But," exclaimed van Nerekool, indignantly, "that is most monstrous,
it is infamous."

"No doubt it is," quietly said the President.

"And what course have you taken?" asked van Nerekool.

"I have taken the only course I could take," replied Mr. Zuidhoorn. "I
have simply done my duty. I have already told you that I have flatly
refused to put off the case. It will, therefore, come before us in
its proper turn, that is to say, about Tuesday fortnight."

It was not, however, to be so.

A few days before the above conversation took place between the legal
officials, the Resident, Mr. van Gulpendam, received an unexpected
visit.

Yes, the visit was a wholly unexpected one, for it was Sunday, and
about two o'clock in the afternoon, at a time when, of all others,
no man in Dutch India looks to be disturbed. About eleven o'clock
that same morning, Mr. van Gulpendam had gone to his club, and had
amused himself with a game or two at billiards. He liked to show his
subordinates that, though he had not cruised about Delft or Leyden, he
yet was just as handy as they were at cutting a ball into the middle
pocket, and had not forgotten how to put on side. About one o'clock,
he had gone home, had made an excellent and hearty luncheon, and then,
in the pleasing consciousness of being able to enjoy the Lord's Day
undisturbed, had put on his pyjamas and kabaai, and was just preparing
to turn in for his afternoon nap. His hand was already on the handle
of his bedroom door, when lo, his chief servant appeared in his usual
quiet, stealthy way, slid down to the ground, made a most respectful
"sembah," and softly whispered that Babah Lim Yang Bing requested
the honour of a few moments' interview with the Kandjeng toean.

"Babah Lim Yang Bing," exclaimed van Gulpendam, in surprise. "What? the
Opium farmer?"

"Engèh, Kandjeng toean."

"Show him in at once," ordered the master.

"But, van Gulpendam," said his wife, "what are you thinking about? In
that costume?"

"It does not matter, my dear," replied the husband, "we must sail when
the wind blows fair. But--oh yes--" and, calling another attendant,
he ordered, "Go and fetch the pajoeng stand here."

Laurentia shrugged her shoulders. "There's a pretty thing, the Resident
in pyjamas and kabaai, and the golden pajoeng by his side."

"It looks more dignified, my dear. You leave me to manage, we are
having a fair breeze, I tell you. Now you run away to your nest."

"Humph," muttered Laurentia, with her most captivating smile. "Very
sociable, I must say, all alone. Come, my dear," she continued,
"do send that Chinaman about his business."

"Not a bit of it," said van Gulpendam, "we must keep the galley fire
in--you seem to forget our bill to John Pryce."

But the lady had vanished. One of her female attendants had come in
and whispered to her mistress that M`Bok Kârijâh was in the kitchen
waiting to see her.

This M`Bok Kârijâh was a friend of Nènèh Wong Toewâ and pretty nearly
as old as she was; but she had more strings to her bow than Mrs. van
Gulpendam's confidante, for besides being a doekoen, she was also a
bepôrrô, a dealer in jewellery.

"Much use her coming now," muttered the lady, "now that my husband
has this Chinaman on his hands."

She hastened however to her room, and ordered her servant to show
the old woman up.

At the entrance of the pandoppo the Chinaman and the old crone
met. Neither, however, seemed to have the slightest knowledge of
the other; but a smile played upon the lips of the babah. For anyone
but M`Bok Kârijâh that smile was no more than the stereotyped smirk
which the sallow face of every Celestial wears when he is about to
enter the presence of a superior. The old woman, however, knew that
it was a smile of inward satisfaction. Preceded by the servant girl
she entered the inner gallery and was admitted into the njonja's
bed-chamber, while the Chinaman approached the Resident who sat
comfortably balancing himself in his rocking-chair by the side of
which was displayed the pajoeng stand which surrounded the high and
mighty lord with its lustre of umbrellas.

"Well, babah," began van Gulpendam as with a careless gesture he
motioned the Chinaman to a seat, "Well, babah, what brings you here
this hot time of day?"

The Chinaman took a chair without ceremony, and with a sly look he
said airily, "Oh I merely came to inquire after the health of the
Kandjeng toean."

"The deuce you have, babah, I must say you might have chosen some
other time for that."

"Oh, pray don't say so, Kandjeng toean. Really this is the very best
time for a little quiet chat. Body and mind are now both at rest,
and this is the very moment for a little business."

"Oh so," said van Gulpendam, with a laugh, "the babah has come on
business, has he?"

"That is why," said the Chinaman lowering his voice, "I was so anxious
that no one should see me slipping into the garden of the Residence."

Van Gulpendam pricked his ears.

"You are very mysterious, babah," said he, "have you come to bother
me again about that confounded opium?"

"Yes, Kandjeng toean, and for something else besides."

"Very well, babah, let us hear what you have to say." He had it on the
tip of his tongue to call out, "Very well, babah, haul away," and,
had he at the moment known how to get it out in Malay, out it would
have come. But he had time to reflect that the Chinaman would not,
in any case, have appreciated the force of the nautical phrase.

Babah Lim Yang Bing, then, in his oily fashion proceeded to give his
version of the seizure of opium near the djaga monjet in the Moeara
Tjatjing, and made some attempt to explain to the Resident that what
had been seized there was in reality no opium at all.

"Oh, indeed," laughed van Gulpendam, "that is your tack is it? It
was not opium--what was it then?"

"Oh, Kandjeng toean," smiled the other, "it was nothing but scrapings
of opium pipes mixed with the thickened juice of certain plants."

"Well," said the Resident in a mocking tone of voice, "if that be so,
then there is an end of the matter, then there is nothing illegal at
all in it."

"Yes, yes," replied the other, "but the inspector of police insists
that it is opium."

"The deuce he does!" said van Gulpendam.

"Yes," said the Chinaman, "and he has consulted a couple of Chinese
experts, and these, not knowing where the stuff came from, and judging
by the smell and the taste have come to the conclusion, and have
publicly declared, that it is first class tjandoe, very superior to
that which the government supplies us farmers with."

"You mean to tell me," cried van Gulpendam in amazement, "that the
inspector has told you all that?"

"Yes, Kandjeng toean, and he has done more than that He has placed
a sample of it into the hands of a chemist."

"Well," said the other. "And what is the chemist's opinion?"

"He has made an affidavit," replied the Chinaman, "to the effect that
it is real tjandoe containing thirty-two per cent. of morphine."

"That settles the matter," said the Resident. "I am sorry for it babah,
I cannot help you at all, things must take their course."

"But," insinuated the other, "if the Kandjeng toean would--"

"No, no, babah!" said van Gulpendam in an absent kind of way, as if
his mind was on something else. "No, babah, I can do nothing for you."

"I am very sorry to hear it," said the Chinaman affecting to sigh
though the stereotyped smile still hovered on his lips. Then,
with ready tact dropping that topic of conversation altogether,
he began to talk about indifferent matters, about the gossip of the
day, the state of trade, about the ships that had just come in, and
so on--when suddenly he said: "Yesterday, you know, the Wyberton of
the Rotterdam Lloyd came into harbour. She has brought me a splendid
consignment of Havanah cigars. I have had a few of them packed up as
samples in cases of a dozen. They are very fine indeed. I happen to
have one of these little cases about me. Will the Kandjeng toean do
me the favour of having a look at it?"

With these words the wily Chinaman produced a cigar-case, which,
as far as outward appearance went, was really very pretty indeed,
it was very tastefully embroidered with bunches of red roses.

The Resident took the case, looked at it, admired it, and opened
it. It contained twelve cigars, very fine looking Havanahs, which,
by their fragrance, were undoubtedly of an excellent brand. But, as
the Chinaman went on talking, the Resident looked at the case and its
contents in a very abstracted mood, as if he hardly saw it at all, his
thoughts were evidently elsewhere. At length, he handed the case back,
and said, "Yes, a very pretty thing--it seems a very fine sample."

"Would the Kandjeng toean condescend to accept them at my hands?" asked
the Chinaman with his most winning smile.

"What? you wish me--?"

"Oh sir, it is but the merest trifle. The Kandjeng toean will have
the pleasure of smoking a really excellent cigar--I will answer for
it--and he will be conferring the greatest favour upon me if he will
accept them as a little present."

Without making any reply, without so much as a sign of consent, the
Resident listlessly allowed the gift to drop on a little table that
stood by his side, and, just as if nothing whatever had happened,
he took up the conversation precisely where it had been broken off.

"When that opium came ashore," said he, "did anyone happen to be
present?"

"No one, Kandjeng toean, but my two spies, Liem King and Than Khan."

"Can you trust the fellows?"

"Most absolutely," was the reply, "there is not the smallest fear
from that quarter."

"And the opium was discovered, you say, close to the spot where Ardjan
was picked up?"

"Not two hundred yards from where he was," replied the Chinaman.

"And they found the djoekoeng in which he came ashore did they
not?" asked van Gulpendam.

"Yes, Kandjeng toean, it was a surf boat."

"That is all I want to know, babah," said the Resident.

The astute Chinaman took the hint, he rose and was preparing to leave;
but the Resident motioned him back to his seat.

"You have not said a word yet, babah, about that other business,"
said van Gulpendam carelessly.

"What business?"

"Your son Lim Ho has treated Ardjan most barbarously."

"One has nothing but sorrow from one's children, Kandjeng toean,"
said the Chinaman piteously.

"That is all very fine," said the Resident, "but the chief medical
officer has made an official report which is very serious, very
serious indeed. I am afraid, I am afraid--"

"Ah, this is a world of suffering and woe, Kandjeng toean," sighed
Lim Yang Bing most dolefully. "Is there no possible means of squaring
it with the doctor?"

"Who knows," said van Gulpendam thoughtfully. "Now if I had the matter
in hand, I might perhaps--"

"O pray, Kandjeng toean," whined the Chinaman. "Do pray help me I
beseech you."

"I shall see," said van Gulpendam. "A great deal depends upon yourself,
babah. You know the penalty for ill-treatment is very severe."

The Chinaman, in a moment, took the not too delicate hint. He felt
in his pocket and drew forth a little silver tea-caddy of most
exquisite workmanship. Said he; "That Wyberton I mentioned just now,
has brought me some very fine silver ware from Paris. Just look at
that fretwork. Do you think van Kempen in the Hague could turn out
anything better than that?"

Van Gulpendam took the box. "Aye, aye," said he, as he examined it,
"it is marvellously pretty--very tasteful I must say."

"I have had the box filled with the choicest Chousong, such tea never
reaches Europe, it is reserved for the court at Pekin. Just smell it,
Kandjeng toean, is it not delicious?"

The resident opened the tea-caddy and put his nose to it, but
not before he had had a peep inside it. "Most delicious," he
exclaimed. "Why, babah, you must send me some of that tea, we cannot
get anything worth drinking here, the njonja is always grumbling at
her storekeeper."

"Oh!" cried the Chinaman, "may I beg the Kandjeng toean to accept
that little sample as an offering to the njonja?"

"Thank you very much, babah, I am pleased to accept it in her name. I
am sure she will be delighted with it."

The face of the Celestial glowed with satisfaction; he felt that now
he had his foot fairly in the stirrup. "I may hope then," said he,
"that the Kandjeng toean will--"

"I can promise you nothing at all, babah," said the Resident. "I
shall see, however, what I can do." He rose as he spoke--a sign
that the interview was at an end; but suddenly a thought seemed to
strike him. "Do you know who it is that has charged your son with
ill-treating Ardjan?"

"Yes, I do, Kandjeng toean, it is Pak Ardjan, the father of the mate."

"He is a notorious opium smuggler, is he not? Some day or other he
will burn his fingers at it."

The Chinaman looked up in surprise; but he saw through it.

"At least," continued van Gulpendam, in the most off-hand way,
"that is what I hear from the police, it is no business of mine. I
shall see what I can do."

Babah Lim Yang Bing stepped up to the great man and familiarly held out
his hand; Jack was as good as his master now. But just at that moment
a handsome big dog--one of Anna's favourites--came bounding into the
pandoppo, and wagging his tail, came jumping up at his master. Van
Gulpendam took the animal's paw and coolly placed it into the babah's
outstretched palm.

"Oh, it is all the same to me, noble sir," said the Chinaman, with
his false smile, as he heartily shook the dog's honest paw.

The Dutch official thoroughly understood those words of the
Chinaman. As soon as he was alone in the pandoppo, he, with a greedy
look, opened the cigar-case and emptied it on the table. His face
beamed with joy, for round each Havanah there was very neatly wrapped
a bank-note of a thousand guilders, in such a manner that one half
of the cigars only was covered, and nothing could be seen of the
paper when first the case was opened. Next he put his fingers into
the tea-caddy. Yes, there again he encountered the same soft kind of
paper. He was about to pull it out; but suddenly he thought better of
it, he hurriedly replaced the precious cigars, snatched up the case and
the silver box, and rushed into his private office where he immediately
sat down and began to write the letter which so puzzled the President
of the Council at Santjoemeh. Just as he had sealed it, he heard his
wife coming into the inner gallery, and taking leave of M`Bok Kârijâh.

"A lucky day," he whispered in her ear, as he threw his arm round
her neck. "A lucky day," and thus he drew her along.

"A lucky day?" she asked, replying to his embrace by folding her arm
round his waist as she gazed at him with moist and glittering eyes.

Thus they went to the bedroom. When he got there van Gulpendam
carefully closed the door and double locked it. Then he drew his wife
to the table, and, taking a seat, he shook out upon it the contents
of the cigar-case and of the tea-caddy, while Laurentia stood by him,
her eyes fixed upon the bits of paper. There were five-and-twenty
of them, there could be no mistake about them, for the mark upon
their silky surface told plainly enough that each represented the
value of one thousand guilders. A shade of disappointment passed
over Laurentia's handsome features. It passed away in an instant,
and was gone long before her husband could notice it. He saw her
eagerly seizing upon the notes, carefully unrolling them from the
cigars and smoothing down those which had come out of the tea-caddy
in a sadly crumpled condition.

"Twenty-five thousand guilders!" cried she. "A pretty sum indeed--Truly
it is a lucky day, for added to what I have got--"

"What have you got?" cried her husband.

"Yes, what I have just now received from M`Bok Kârijâh!"

"Let us see! What did she give you?" eagerly cried van Gulpendam.

"I will show you presently; but first this." As she spoke she took
up a little parcel which was lying on the table by the side of a
cardboard box which bore marks of having already been opened. She
then carefully stripped off and put aside the pisang-leaves in which
the parcel was wrapped, and at length she produced a small cup of the
commonest earthenware, which contained a greenish, quivering jelly,
of most disgusting appearance. "First take this," said Laurentia,
as, with a tiny Chinese spoon, she scooped out of the greenish mass,
a piece about the size of a hazel-nut, and held it to her husband's
lips as though she was going to feed him. "First take that, Gulpie,
dear--and then I will show you."

Van Gulpendam cast a most comical look of despair at the gruesome
morsel, while his face assumed an expression of loathing which baffles
description. "That filthy stuff again," he whined submissively. "You
know it is no good."

"Oh, yes," said she, "it is--this is quite a new drug. It must work,
M`Bok Kârijâh brought it to me only this morning."

"Do you intend me to swallow that horrid stuff?"

"Come, Gulpie," said his wife, as she still held the spoon to his
mouth. "Now, don't be childish, swallow it at once. You will see how it
will work," continued she, as she patted his back with her hand. "Now,
there's a dear, swallow it down, and then I will tell you how I have
had as good a Hari ontong as you."

Whether his wife's coaxing words and ardent looks, or his intense
curiosity to know what she had to tell him, overcame his repugnance
matters but little. Suffice it to say, that the poor wretch shut
his eyes, and opened his mouth, while his wife, with the spoon, put
the pale-greenish mess upon his tongue. As he tasted it he heaved so
violently with intense disgust, that an explosion seemed imminent.

"Come, swallow, swallow!" cried Laurentia, again patting his back
with her soft hand. "So, so, that's right; and now clean the spoon,
the stuff is much too precious to waste."

So the unhappy man was compelled to lick up and swallow the last
vestige of the nauseous compound which clung to the spoon.

"And now," said he, "now for your story."

"Come here, Gulpie," said his wife, in her most coaxing manner. "Come
here and sit down by me on the divan, and I will tell you all
about it." She took up the box from the table, and seating herself
cross-legged on the divan after the fashion of the natives, she drew
her husband close to her side.

And now she proceeded to relate to him how M`Bok Kârijâh had, in
the strictest confidence, told her how madly Lim Ho was in love with
the baboe Dalima, and, as if they both did not know that well enough
already, she added, with a strange smile, that he would do anything
in the world to gain possession of the maiden. The forcible abduction
from under the very eyes of her mistress was indeed proof sufficient
of the ardour of his passion, and the poor fellow had been most
grievously disappointed that he had been unable to attain his object.

Fair Laurentia did not tell her husband all this simply, and as
a matter of fact story. No, no, she was an artiste in the arts of
wheedling and seduction. She took her time and knew how to impart to
her tale the necessary shades and tints--here and there seeming to
hesitate as if modestly disinclined to enter into somewhat questionable
details; and then again at the right moment launching out into a
freedom of speech which threatened to become impassioned if it did
not indeed actually border upon the indecent. And so she managed to
finish her story by a glowing description of the ardent Chinaman and
the personal charms of lovely Dalima.

Van Gulpendam had first listened to her attentively, her highly
coloured narrative had greatly interested him. But--Was it the effect
of the drug he had swallowed, or was it an occasional peep into fair
Laurentia's half-open kabaja, or were there other influences at work
which made him lose his mental balance? At all events, the man was
trembling with excitement when his fair neighbour brought her story
to an end with the words:

"M`Bok Kârijâh implored me to lend her my assistance and to exert my
influence with Dalima to make her yield to Lim Ho's ardent passion. As
earnest of the man's gratitude she offered me this."

Thus saying, Laurentia opened the box and drew forth a magnificent
red coral necklace depending from which hung a large rosette of
precious stones.

"Look, Gulpie, look!" she cried, triumphantly, "these brilliants
alone are worth more than ten thousand guilders," and as she spoke
she threw the necklace over her well-shaped shoulders. The deep red
corals showed off splendidly on the soft pearly white skin, while
the rich clasp of jewels lay glittering on her heaving bosom.

But van Gulpendam had no eyes for the costly gift. He clasped his
fair wife to his breast as he exclaimed beside himself with passion:

"You are lovely, my Laurentia! You are too lovely!"

"The drug, the drug," cried she, "you see it is the drug! M`Bok
Kârijâh has surpassed herself. You see, Gulpie, you see!"

"Yes; darling Laurie," cried he, in ecstasy. "It must be the stuff. I
feel it working in my veins."

"Indeed, indeed, this is--this is indeed, a lucky day!"








CHAPTER VII.

A TRAITOR IN THE DESSA.


About twelve miles to the south-east of Santjoemeh, in a hilly country
which offers to the eye a continual succession of picturesque and
lovely views, lies the little dessa Kaligaweh. It is situated in the
centre of an extensive forest of cocoa-nut trees which encloses it as
in a circle of emerald, and which, viewed from an eminence close by,
resembles a mighty garland of verdure whose tops waving in the gentle
breeze have the appearance of a frame of grass-green lace-work.

This cocoa-nut forest may be said to form the outer court of the
dessa, for the village itself lies concealed in a thick grove of
fruit-trees in which the most splendid mangoes, the most delicious
ramboetans, the most refreshing assams, the juiciest bliembiengs,
the most fragrant djeroeks and the coolest djamboes, and many other
gifts of intertropical Pomona grow up and flourish in the richest
luxuriance. Here and there tufts of underwood fill the spaces between
the little huts and the trees, and flowers in the wildest profusion
fill the air with their fragrance and enchant the eye by their rich
but harmonious diversity of colour.

The dessa itself is enclosed by dense rows of bamboo, the thick and
tall Black bamboo, which furnishes the natives with the most useful
building material, and whose long massive stalks growing quite close
together and gracefully bending under the load of the heavy plumage
of verdure they have to support, form an almost impenetrable hedge,
while at the same time they cast the most grateful shade over the
enclosure within.

Kaligaweh was but an inconsiderable dessa. Some thirty or forty huts
scattered here and there in picturesque disorder among the fruit
trees formed the centre of the small community. The inhabitants of
this spot so highly favoured by nature occupied themselves, for the
most part, with the culture of rice to which the soil was admirably
adapted, and the fruitful rice-fields rose all around in the form of an
amphitheatre on the hill-slopes. The lower grounds contained several
fish-ponds well stocked with bandengs, djampals, Cataks, Gaboes, and
many other kinds of fish, all of them highly esteemed by the European
and Chinese inhabitants of Santjoemeh, and therefore fetching good
prices in the market of that place. Hence the population of Kaligaweh
might have been a highly prosperous and flourishing community, had
it not been for the ravages which one fatal and all-destructive pest
spread among them. Their bane was the passion for opium. That fatal
drug had undermined not only their prosperity, but broken down also
the constitutions of all those who gave themselves up to its use. It
was a sad fact, alas, that the great majority of those who dwelt
in Kaligaweh were enslaved to it; but sadder yet it was that there
were not a few among them who could recall the good time when the
name of opium was scarcely known there. In that short space of time,
how complete a change had come over so lovely a spot!

About twelve years ago a native of the dessa, who, in his youth had
left it to seek his fortune elsewhere, returned to Kaligaweh. This
man, whose name was Singomengolo, but who usually was known as Singo,
had let loose the opium fiend upon the quiet and innocent little
dessa in which he was born.

Singo, on leaving home, had fallen into the hands of the recruiting
serjeants. By encouraging his innate passion for gambling,
and by initiating him into the mysteries of opium smoking, these
soul-destroyers had, in an unguarded moment, induced him to enlist,
and thus to bind himself to the service for a period of six years. The
wretches helped the miserable man soon to get rid of the bounty in
opium-dens, in gambling houses, at cock-fights, and in excesses of
all kinds. Then for six years he was a soldier.

As soon as his time of service had expired, Singo left the army in
which he had acquitted himself with some credit, and obtained a place
as oppasser (policeman) under one of the government controllers in
the interior of the island. He soon gave evidence of considerable
skill as a detective, and earned for himself the reputation of a
very sharp and clever officer. This reputation brought him under the
notice of one of the agents of the opium farmer for the district,
who recommended him to the Company; and the Company, appreciating his
services, obtained for him the place of bandoelan or opium-detective
at their chief office at Santjoemeh.

In that capacity, his dexterity and cunning, not only in the detection
of opium smuggling but also in bringing to light other mysterious and
shady transactions, won him the warm support of Lim Yang Bing, the
wealthy opium farmer, who used constantly to employ him, especially in
cases which had baffled the shrewdest of his agents and spies. Singo's
services were, in fact, invaluable to his master; for whenever,
for some reason or other, a man stood in the rich Chinaman's way,
Singo could always be depended upon to find smuggled opium in his
possession, though the victim might not have perhaps, in all his life,
so much as seen the drug.

In the year 1874 Babah Lim Yang Bing, by sheer dint of bribery,
contrived to get the number of opium stores in his district increased
by ten; and among the unfortunate dessas which were thus poisoned
by sanction of the Dutch government, was Kaligaweh. Now, it was
easy enough to set up an opium den in the little village; but it
was quite another matter to make it pay, which was all Lim Yang Bing
cared for. As soon as the government had granted the license, an opium
store arose in Kaligaweh, a hole filthy in the extreme, so as to remain
faithful to the tradition of such dens. Over the door appeared a black
board on which in huge white letters were conspicuously painted the
words, "Opium store," in Dutch, in Javanese, and in Chinese, and in
the characters peculiar to those tongues. The two Chinamen, who were
entrusted with its management, did their very best to attract people,
they lavished their most winning smiles upon the passers-by, they
exhausted every means of enticing them to enter; but it was all in
vain. Not a single man ever ventured to set foot in the noisome hole.

Babah Lim Yang Bing was not slow to perceive that so good an example
would become contagious, and might spread among the other dessas
of his district. It was quite obvious to the most casual observer,
that Kaligaweh and its environs were wealthy and prosperous out of all
comparison with the places where the opium trade flourished. Why, the
mere outward appearance of its people was quite enough to show this;
and the broad chests and sinewy arms of its men, and the firmly rounded
hips and full shoulders of its women and girls, whose bronzed skin
bore the ruddy glow of health, formed the most startling contrast with
the ghastly, sunken countenances, and shrivelled frames of the walking
skeletons which one encountered in other less favoured localities.

But, chiefly was the eye of that cunning Chinaman attracted by the rich
rice-fields which covered the entire district, and which pleasantly
surrounded its little dessas nestling in the dark foliage of their
fruit trees as islets amidst a sea of emerald, when the young crops
imparted light and cheerfulness to the scene; or presently again would
encircle these dessas as in a bright band of gold, when the stalks,
ripening under the tropical sun, were bending under their weight of
grain, and waved to the soft harvest breeze.

In whatever season of the year, or from whatever side one might,
at that time, approach Kaligaweh, its fields testified to the
frugal industry of its inhabitants. They always spoke of regular and
systematic cultivation, and of careful and constant irrigation, and
they thus loudly proclaimed--a fact with which the reader is already
acquainted--that its people were prosperous and happy, and led very
different lives to the squalid and wretched existence which was
dragged out in the places where the passion for opium had taken root.

All this it was Lim Yang Bing's purpose to alter. Not only was the
material welfare of the dessa a thorn in his side; but his covetous
nature longed to transfer the earnings of its simple and frugal
population to his own already over-filled pockets. His attempt with
the opium-store had hitherto, we have seen, borne no fruit; it had
proved a failure, and had brought loss rather than profit to its
owner. He had determined, at any cost, to bring about a change.

On a certain evening, it was towards the end of harvest, the population
of Kaligaweh, men and women, young men and maidens, were returning
homewards from the fields. The women had been hard at work all day,
handling the sickles and cutting the ripe grain from the stalks,
while the men had been no less busily engaged in taking the little
bundles from the hands of the reapers, and binding them together
into big bundles. The faces of all were flushed with exertion, and
glowing with satisfaction, for the crop this year was a heavy one;
no plagues of any kind had interfered with its growth, so that the
landowners looked forward to laying up many pikols in their barns,
and the more humble labourers could count upon a plentiful payment
in kind. That, in itself, was quite sufficient to account for the
universal good-humour and gaiety which prevailed.

The rice-harvest is, indeed, in the rural districts of the rich
island of Java, a great national festival, a day of joy, which,
for its simple people, has more real significance than all the
other Mahommedan festivals. It is then for them fair time. Clad in
their gay, many-coloured dresses, the women and maidens assemble on
the green; then many a heart, for the first time, feels the tender
passion; then many an old love-affair is settled, and many a "yes"
is softly murmured. The climate, the surrounding scenery in those
glad harvest-fields, all invite to merriment and glee. True it is,
we must not deny it, that, on such occasions, unguarded innocence is
sometimes betrayed, and that, now and then, an offering is brought
to the shrine of Lucina; but, much more frequently, the vows then
made will presently be ratified and confirmed by the priest, and,
at the very worst, no such frightful consequences ensue as are wont
to arise in more highly civilized society.

On this evening, as the merry bands of reapers approached the dessa,
the lively tones of the cymbal fell upon their ears. The people looked
at one another in astonishment at the unwonted sounds, and were at
a loss to know who had prepared for them this pleasant surprise.

When they came to the village green, they saw two booths erected under
the splendid Wariengien or wild-fig trees which overshadowed the dessa,
and over each of these booths there waved the Dutch flag.

One of them was, as yet, closed, but in the back of the other were
seated, cross-legged, a band of musicians, who made the air resound
with their inspiriting strains. In front of this orchestra, a space was
left vacant, the ground of which had been levelled and sprinkled with
fine sand, and the booth was fairly well illuminated with lanterns of
various colours. A loud cheer arose from the village crowd, for now
they began to see that they might expect a much richer treat than a
mere concert.

Singomengolo, whom Lim Yang Bing had despatched with plenary powers
to Kaligaweh and who had provided this entertainment for his friends
in the dessa, was standing close by leaning up against one of the
bamboo stems, which supported the roof of the booth, and was, with
sundry nods and smiles, welcoming the fresh arrivals who were, for
the most part, old acquaintances of his, and who warmly greeted him
on his return to the dessa.

In a twinkling, the sickles, the bands of straw, and the bundles of
rice were stowed away, and the broad-brimmed hats, with which the
labourers protected themselves at their work from the full glare of
the mid-day sun, were laid aside. Soon the entire population came
crowding to the green, and romping and playing filled the open space
in front of the booth, then by degrees seated themselves on the soft
carpet of tuft.

Meanwhile, the sun had gone down in the West, and the stars were
coming out one by one, and began to show their soft and twinkling
light, while the moon, rising in the dark blue vault of heaven as a
large blood-red disc, shed the fantastic shadows of the Wariengien
trees upon the assembled groups. Round about the tree-tops innumerable
swarms of bats flitted in giddy mazes uttering their peculiar, short,
shrill cry, and high above them, in the evening air, sundry flying
squirrels kept circling round mysteriously, who seemed to be selecting
the juiciest fruits on which, presently, they intended to make a feast.

When all were seated, and some degree of order had been obtained;
at a signal from Singo, the cymbals and all the instruments in the
orchestra struck up, and filled the air with pleasant melody.

"Bogiro, Bogiro!" shouted the younger and more enthusiastic part of
the audience.

That first piece, indeed, which may most fitly be compared with our
overture, is one in which all the instruments of a Javanese orchestra
play together, and which serves as an introduction to the programme
which is to follow. At times, it must be said, the cymbals would
make a most discordant and deafening noise, but this was varied
now and then by solos which were musical and pleasant enough to the
ear. Evidently the musicians were this evening on their mettle, they
exerted themselves to the utmost to deserve the applause of their
simple audience; and the profound silence with which that wanton and
excitable crowd sat listening, sufficiently testified to the success
of their endeavours.

At the last clash of the cymbals, the people broke silence, and by
ringing shouts and lively cheers gave vent to their satisfaction as
a Westerly audience would have shown its approval by clapping of hands.

Singomengolo, with the help of a couple of his assistants, and
aided by the two Chinamen who kept the opium-store, then offered the
notables, who were present, cigars wrapped in leaves, while sweets and
confectionery were handed round to the more distinguished ladies of
the company. Round the two booths several stalls had been erected,
at which the lower classes could go and gratify their tastes. The
satisfaction of these poor people was unbounded, when they found that
all these dainties were provided free of charge, and that it was
in this generous manner that Singo had determined to celebrate his
return among them. On all sides, praises and thanks were lavished on
his liberality. But the tempter took good care not to let them know
that the tobacco of which those pleasant little cigars were made had
been well steeped in infusion of opium, and that the pernicious juice
of the Polyanthes tuberosa largely entered into the composition of the
nice sweets he had so bountifully served out. Perfectly unconscious
of this treachery the poor people thoroughly enjoyed their treat,
and were loud in praises to their generous friend.

Presently, the cymbal was heard again, and every one hurried back
to his seat. At the first notes of the piece which followed a loud
cheer arose; "Taroe Polo, Taroe Polo" was the cry as the people
recognised the well known sounds, then all sat silent and listened
with rapt attention.

The story or legend of which the musicians were about to give a musical
interpretation, was familiar to almost every inhabitant of the dessa,
yet here and there small groups gathered round some old man as he
told the oft-repeated tale to his younger friends.

The music of Java is the interpretation, the embodiment, the rhythmical
expression of the numberless fables, legends, and romantic tales
current in the island. It is inseparably connected with them just
as appropriate gesture and modulation of the voice are the necessary
accompaniments of oratory. Of these legends the story of Taroe Polo
is one of the prettiest and well-calculated to awaken the softest
emotions in the breast of the susceptible Javanese.

In very low tones, which blended with the notes of the music, but
yet in an audible voice, the old man said:

Taroe Polo was a young prince who one day while he was out hunting lost
his way in the dense tropical forest, and as he was wandering about,
suddenly came upon an old ruinous palace the existence of which had
never been suspected. Making his way through the tangled undergrowth,
he soon came up to the walls and entered the ruin. As he roamed about
the spacious and much decayed galleries, he was greatly surprised to
find himself in an apartment which the hand of time had spared, and
which retained all its former freshness and splendour. As he looked
round in amazement at so sudden and strange a sight, his eye lit upon
a young damsel of wondrous beauty surrounded by a train of attendants,
who, although unable to vie with their mistress in loveliness, yet
were all comely and young. She was a princess, a king's daughter,
confined by the cruelty of her mother to that lonely spot, because she
would give no ear to the suit of an old though powerful monarch, who
was anxious to make her his bride. The moment prince Taroe Polo caught
sight of this enchanting vision, he felt a fire kindle in his breast,
and casting himself down at her feet, he began to pour out to her the
tale of his passionate love; hear how well the little silver cymbal
and the strips of resonant wood struck with small hammers with their
soft silvery tones express the tender feelings of the prince, how they
seem to sing, to woo, to implore as the young man kneels to his love.

The young maiden listens but too willingly to his eager suit, her
bosom heaves, she sighs, the flute with its languishing notes quite
plainly tells the tale.

But she is compelled to repress her emotion, for she is guarded by
her attendants, who are her mother's slaves, and who one and all
will be ready to betray her. She replies in broken accents, in single
syllables, the harp faithfully gives back her confusion.

Gently however, and with the cunning of love she tries to get rid,
if but for a few moments, of those who stand around her. She succeeds,
and now the passionate joy of the lovers breaks forth unrestrained. How
well that burst of passion is rendered in full symphony by the two
stringed viol, the accordian, the flute and the zither. Thus having,
for a while, given way to their feelings, they suddenly remember
that they can never win the mother's consent, that her followers are
incorruptible and that their only chance of bliss is to flee away
together--far away to the mountains. The lovely princess, however,
will not yield, her maiden pride refuses to take the irrevocable
step. But the prayers of Taroe Polo, now soft as the gentle breeze
which rustles in the tree-tops, then vehement and passionate as the
tempest blast which howls over the fields--at length prevail. Her
own heart pleads for him, her love is sounding his praise, still she
wavers, she hesitates. But the thought of her mother and of the fate
which awaits her should the secret of her love become known, quite
overcomes her. With downcast eyes, but with a smile of joy she casts
herself into the arms of her love, and with him she flies--she flies to
the blue mountains, which loom far away in the mist. The whole Javanese
orchestra celebrates this happy close with a full burst of melody,
the cymbals with rapid clang indicate the swiftness of their flight,
and then the coy sighs of the maiden are succeeded by the jubilant
song of the prince, and a loud clash of victory brings the piece to
a triumphant close.

The whole population of Kaligaweh--simple folk--sat awe-struck
listening with breathless attention until the last sounds of the
gamelang had faded, quivering away in the distance.

The moon had meanwhile risen, had lost her blood-red hue and was now
prying down upon that rustic village green through the tall Wariengien
trees and flooding all those who sat there with silvery light.

By this time the other booth had been opened and within a group of men
could be seen cleverly manipulating some packs of Chinese cards. Your
Javanese is a born gambler. With him the love of play is the ruling
passion, nay the mother of all others, which without that excitement
might be harmless enough.

The sight of that booth is irresistible, many of the men rise at once
to take part in the seductive game, whilst others who are anxious
to see the theatrical performance which was to follow, begin to ask
Singo or his attendants for one of those cigars which they had found
so delicious. The poor little women too are so fond of those nice
little sweetmeats and cannot help showing that a second edition of
those dainties would not be unwelcome. But, the crafty minions of
Lim Yang Bing were on the watch. With the most pleasant smiles they
told the company that the supply intended for free distribution
had come to an end; but that the stall-keepers were ready to sell
cigars and sweetmeats to anyone who would pay for them. It was a sore
disappointment; the stall-keepers were ready to sell, but where was the
money to come from? For though we know that the people of Kaligaweh
were in every way prosperous, yet there was but very little of the
filthy dross of this world among them.

Singomengolo read their feelings at once, and with devilish craft he
pointed to the open gambling booth. There, he grinned, plenty of all
sorts of coins could be picked up in a few minutes. It was a mere
matter of luck.

His words acted like oil cast upon the fire.

"But to play, one must have ready money to stake," suggested one of
the bystanders.

And how then about the rice which you have just brought home? said
the tempter with a leer worthy of Satan himself.

A new light dawned upon the wretched people. The rice, of course,
how was it that they had never thought of that?

"And will they take rice for payment?" asked one.

"Take it?" cried Singo, "of course they will and allow you the full
market value for it." "And," continued the tempter, "You can see for
yourselves that to-day is a lucky day for you. Look at Pak Ardjan
how he is rattling the rix-dollars. It was true enough, there stood
Pak Ardjan, the father of the late mate--there he stood dancing and
jumping about like a madman, while he rattled in his closed hands
the three rix-dollars he had just won. Three rix-dollars! Why that
was at least half a month's wages! And to win all that money in a
few minutes! All one wanted was but a little pluck--fortune would be
kind enough." Thus spake many of the poor creatures, little knowing
what nets were spread around them. Still there was a great deal of
hesitation--men had not altogether taken leave of their senses. The
great majority still held back, and but very few bundles of rice had
found their way to the gambling booth.

Just then--Kaseran and Wongsowidjojo and Kamidin, and Sidin, and so
many others began to cut the same capers as Pak Ardjan. They also
danced about, they also shouted for joy, they showed the people--the
one three, the other five, a third seven, and yet another ten guilders
which they had made in a twinkling. That Singo really was an excellent
fellow, he had returned to make the fortunes of all his friends.

Then there was no holding them. Soon the whole booth was full of
men blindly intent upon tempting fortune, while outside the cymbal
resounded, and the voices of the actresses(?) were beginning to make
themselves heard.

But the keepers of the gambling-booth were no fools. Their policy
was not to frighten the poor dessa-people at this first attempt; and
evidently only a very small portion of the rice-harvest had fallen
into their hands. The cheerful and happy faces of the gamblers told
plainly enough that there were not many losers among them, and if here
and there one had been unlucky, it was always one who could very well
stand a slight reverse of fortune. In truth, the "croupiers" did but
very little business that night, though they were clever enough to take
care, now that the ball had been set rolling, that their losses were
not ruinously heavy. In fact, as the night grew on, the rix-dollars
of the winners were imperceptibly but surely melting away to guilders
and the guilders to still smaller change. Yet, on the whole, the
gamblers had won sufficient to make them all noisy and happy.

At length came the hour of midnight, and the heavy gong was struck
at the guard-house. The booth-keepers declared that they intended to
close, that they had had a really bad night, and they actually did blow
out the candles and shut up the place. Many of the people were still
lingering about and listening to the cymbal and the craving for cigars
began to be felt again. Thus the stall keepers did a roaring trade,
and seeing that they also were in the pay of the Babah Lim Yang Bing
the money which the confederates had lost at cards, managed to come
back to them again through another channel, so that the sacrifice,
after all, was not a very alarming one.

At length the store of those pleasant cigars, which was not a very
large one to start with, was exhausted. Then, with an indescribably
low and nasty smile, Singo and his accomplices began to point to the
opium-den where, for the same money, much more real enjoyment could
be obtained.

In that wretched hole some girls were publicly seated on the rough
benches, and with their shapely fingers were daintily rolling the
little balls of opium, and casting seductive looks, coupled with
wanton gestures, at the poor victims who stood gazing at the open
door of that fatal den without being able quite to pluck up the
courage to enter. Alas! for many of them, the temptation was too
strong. Excited by the poison which they had already imbibed in
considerable quantity--seduced by the wanton allurements of those
fair women--first one gave way, then another, and although that night
not every compartment of the opium-den was occupied, yet the Chinamen
who kept it had every reason to be satisfied.

When Lim Yang Bing was told of the result of that night's work he
rubbed his hands together as he chuckled, that "Singomengolo is really
an invaluable fellow--I must not lose sight of him."








CHAPTER VIII.

DECAY OF THE DESSA.--ARREST OF PAK ARDJAN.


This first fairly successful attempt upon the little dessa was
systematically repeated, and every evening the inspiriting tones of
the cymbal resounded on the green of Kaligaweh, and every evening also
the temptations described in the former chapter were renewed. All this
might cost Lim Yang Bing some money at first; but he knew well enough
that he would be the gainer in the end and that his capital would soon
return to him with ample interest. By degrees it became less and less
necessary to allow the gamblers to win; and it was not very long before
such a thing only happened now and again so that the hope of gain might
not die out altogether. Gradually the poor deluded people began to
lose more and more; and one bundle of rice after another passed into
the hands of the sharpers who, it must be said, gave liberal prices;
and allowed somewhat more than the full market value for the produce.

But it was not only the spirit of gambling which had thus been
aroused in Kaligaweh; together with that degrading passion--perhaps in
consequence of it--the abuse of opium began to increase to an alarming
extent. Six months, indeed, had scarcely elapsed before it became a
notorious fact that a very considerable part of the population had
taken to opium smoking; and--sadder still--that the opium farmers
found powerful allies in the women of the dessa, who very soon began
to perceive the influence which the drug had upon their husbands,
and who, instead of trying to arrest the unfortunate creatures on
their road to ruin, rather encouraged their fatal passion.

One reason of this was, that the terrible effects of the poison did
not at once manifest themselves. No--the enemy made his approaches
in the dark, he advanced slowly but surely.

At first the quantity used was but very small, a couple of matas
or so a day, not even as much as that, were for those primitive
people who were wholly unaccustomed to the drug quite sufficient to
procure blissful rest and delightful sleep, and to call up visions
of the houris with which Mohammed has peopled his paradise. Double
that quantity would produce exuberant gaiety and excite to the most
inordinate passions. And that peace, that excitement, that bliss could
be purchased at the opium-store for fourteen cents (about 2 1/2d.) a
mata. It was indeed dirt-cheap!

But--though in the beginning of his downward course, the opium smoker
could rest satisfied with so moderate an allowance--albeit even this
did not fail to make a breach in his modest budget seeing that the
expenditure was pretty constant--presently his constitution began to
get seasoned to it, and it took a much greater quantity of the poison
to have the desired effect. At first a man would only occasionally
indulge and take up the bedoedan (opium pipe) say, once a week; but
gradually his nervous system began to grow accustomed to the stimulant,
and then a craving for the poison began to be felt, so that already
several men could be pointed out who, as soon as the influence of the
narcotic had passed off, were dull, downcast, nervous and restless;
and who, in consequence, felt utterly miserable. There was but one
means to raise them out of their state of depression; and so they
would take up the bedoedan again and swallow another dose of the
poison. And thus by degrees it came to pass that at length there
was with them scarcely an interval between one fit of intoxication
and the next. That thus the prosperity of the dessa was inevitably
destined to disappear did not admit of the slightest doubt.

Not only was the actual expense of this habitual indulgence greater
than the means of many would allow; but the fatal habit engendered
other cravings which also had to be gratified, and which helped
to sweep away the little that opium had left. Moreover the love of
work--never under any circumstances too strong in a tropical land--was
first seriously impaired, then wholly extinguished, and, when not
under the influence of the opiate the smoker was a slovenly, drowsy,
lazy and objectless being, wholly unfit for the least exertion, whom
nothing could rouse into activity but fresh indulgence in the baneful
remedy. Indeed the sanitary condition of the people of Kaligaweh
had degenerated with such alarming rapidity, that the most casual
observer could not fail to be struck by the change. If, in days gone
by, a European visited the dessa--which it is true but very seldom
happened--he could not fail to admire the healthy and sturdy look of
its inhabitants; but now he constantly came upon men and women whose
ghastly appearance could not but excite in him the deepest pity. There
could be no mistake about it, at a single glance it was evident that
he had before him the victims of the terrible opium-fiend.

Those grey livid faces from which every trace of the Oriental
bronze tint had faded; that wrinkled skin which looked like
parchment overheated without being scorched; those wasted angular
features which gave to the head the appearance of an unsightly
skull; those deep sunken eyes with their jaded look and the dark
blue rings around them; those stooping forms and receding chests;
that extraordinary emaciation of the upper body, of which every rib
could be counted, and which conveyed an idea of transparency, for the
specimens which one met had hardly a rag about them; barely a bit of
dirty clothing wrapped round their loins to hide their nakedness;
that deep distressing cough which came, with hollow sound, from
the labouring breast and spoke of lungs wasted with disease whilst
it seemed to shake to pieces the entire frame; those spindle legs,
so poor, so meagre, that they seemed hardly able to totter along
under the weight of the body they had to support; all these formed
the stereotyped picture of defaced humanity and bore incontestable
witness to the protracted sufferings and unfathomable misery which
had reduced these poor blighted creatures to mere walking skeletons.

When later on Singomengolo revisited the dessa where he first saw
the light, and where, as a thanksoffering, he had planted the most
terrible curse, his lip must have curled with a Satanic smile. Yes,
all he could now see there; those cocoa-nut trees overgrown with moss
and parasites; those orchards neglected and decayed; those unwatered
rice-fields and half-tilled fields; those two or three oxen whose
lean and sickly appearance spoke plainly of neglect and starvation;
yes, all these things were his work. It was his fault that now the
harvest was scanty and worthless; it was his fault that even that
wretched harvest had been pawned long before the ani anis had so much
as begun their work; it was his fault that clothes, furniture, tools,
everything, had been sold or pawned for next to nothing, and that
all had been swallowed up in the bottomless pit of that national curse.

But Babah Lim Yang Bing the opium farmer and his friends Ong Sing Beh
and Kouw Thang the keepers of the pawnshop and of the gambling-booth
were thriving wonderfully, and by their glorious aid the Dutch
Treasury also was doing well in comparison, at least, with former
days when those three noble sources of income contributed little or
nothing to that unsatiable Moloch, the Revenue. Gaily therefore might
the Dutch flag wave in the breeze, and proudly might the Dutch arms
display their manly motto "Je Maintiendrai" above the opium-den,
the gambling-booth and the pawn-shop--that much worshipped Trinity
which forms the most elaborate system of extortion under which ever
a poor conquered race has groaned.

Among the first of the infatuated wretches which fell into the pit so
carefully dug for them, was Pak Ardjan, the father of the mate of the
schooner brig Kiem Ping Hin. But a short time ago he was looked upon
as a thriving and well-to-do Javanese peasant, the possessor of a yoke
of powerful oxen, now he had gambled, rioted and smoked away house and
goods and had plunged his helpless family into the most hideous misery.

Where was now the pleasant little cottage with its neat hedge of
golden-yellow bamboo and its clean dark-brown roof of thatch made of
leaves? Where was that comfortable little house in which Pak Ardjan
was wont to sit with wife and children, passing his days in peace
and cheerfully looking forward to the future?

Alas! the miserable hovel which now barely sheltered the once happy
family was small, low, close, in fact a ruin. The single room of which
it consisted was pervaded by that offensive musty smell which decaying
bamboo generally emits. One look at the walls, the lower parts of
which had already rotted away while the upper were rapidly crumbling
under the attacks of the white ant, and one glance at the roof which
was in one place bulging inwards and in another fast going to dust,
was quite sufficient to account for the closeness of the air. On
the bits of matting, which covered the still more filthy floor, the
children were rolling about, many of them naked as they were born,
while the mother and father, if he happened to be at home, clad in
rags which were never washed and were leaving their bodies in tatters
sat crouching on the floor stupidly gazing at the scene of desolation
before them. Gazing! aye, if the stony mechanical stare could be called
by that name. For the father had lost all consciousness of the hopeless
misery of his family. The frightful selfishness produced by the abuse
of opium: the constantly growing indifference to all things round
about him, even to his own wife and children; the rapidly increasing
love of idleness, and incapacity for work, for care, for exertion in
fact of any kind which at length made him utterly unable to think of
anything by day or night except of how he might gratify his passion
and the other cravings it engendered, and for which he was driven to
sacrifice everything. All this had clouded his sight, and as a man
stone-blind he was tottering on the very brink of a precipice.

Whilst he was in the first lethargic state brought on by the moderate
use of the narcotic, he would be quiet, peaceful and contented, and
would dose away and dream and build up for himself--for himself only--a
paradise in which none but sensual pictures presented themselves to
his eye and to his mind. Then as he continued to smoke, and when he
reached the next stage--the stage of frenzy--he would, regardless
of his children's presence, shamelessly pursue his wife round the
cabin, for at such times she seemed to him the houri of his dreams,
and then, in that wretched hovel at any hour of the night or day,
scenes would be enacted such as the poor innocent children ought never
to have witnessed. For, at such times the man was like a brute beast,
wholly incapable of bridling his degraded passions.

Then the final paroxysm would be reached, and the effect of the
dreadful poison would begin to wear off; and then the wretched creature
would fall into a state of utter prostration, of annihilation which
for himself, and worse still for his family, was indeed a cup of
woe. Then the smoker would begin to tremble all over, then he became
restless and uneasy, then his entire nervous system seemed to be out
of joint, then every limb would be racked with pain--then he would
moan most piteously, and cry like a child, sobbing and declaring that
he was at the point of death and then--yes; then there was but one
single means to relieve him and to bring him back out of that state
of intolerable agony, and that was once again to grasp the pipe and
to fight the disease with the poison which had caused it. Then the
wife had to run out to buy opium--where the money was to come from,
that was her business.

Then one of the children had to knead and roll the opium-balls
and another little one had to hold the lamp which, for that kind of
smoking, is indispensable, and a third had to make strong coffee which
was generally got by theft out of the government-plantations. And if,
from sheer want of money, all this could not be done--nay even when it
was not done quite quickly enough for the impatience of the nervous
sufferer--then the wretched man would fill the hut with wailing and
lamentation, with curses and revilings which drove its inmates to
the verge of despair.

Amidst such surroundings as these Ardjan had grown up, and although
he had not fallen as deeply as his father, yet in the years of his
childhood, the age which is most susceptible of good or evil, his
heart and mind had received the impressions which made it possible
for him later on to take service on board a smuggling-brig, and to
make him feel towards the company which employed him in its nefarious
transactions, such loyalty as we heard him express in the djaga monjet
before Lim Ho the son of Lim Yang Bing the opium farmer at Santjoemeh.

So long as Ardjan, who was the eldest son, was but a child, the family
was plunged in the depths of bestial degradation; but when he had grown
up and, after having served awhile as a sailor in a government vessel,
had gone on board the Kiem Ping Hin, things began somewhat to mend
at home in the dessa. This was especially the case when young Ardjan,
who had a very good head on his shoulders, was promoted to be mate of
the smuggling brig. In that capacity he had constant opportunities
of handling the cargo, and of such a drug as opium, which takes up
but little space, he could very easily now and then appropriate to
himself quantities of comparatively considerable value. This he did
the more readily, and with the less reluctance, as his notions on
the meum and tuum were of the vaguest description. The opium thus
pilfered he used to deliver to his father who, in this manner, was
enabled, not only fully to indulge in his ruling passion, but also to
dispose of the superfluity to his neighbours. In this illegal traffic
Pak Ardjan frequently made considerable gains, which, however, far
from being of any substantial benefit to his empoverished household,
would always be squandered with lavish extravagance.

Such was the state of things when Resident van Gulpendam gave Lim Yang
Bing the hint that Pak Ardjan was, in the estimation of the police,
held to be a notorious smuggler.

From what has been said above it is evident that what the Resident
had said was true, the police had their suspicions, and had often
been on the old smuggler's track, without ever having been able to
bring the offence home to him. It must be said indeed, that so long
as Ardjan was on board the Kiem Ping Hin they made no very determined
efforts to convict his father. Equally true it was that Pak Ardjan,
not knowing at the time that his son lay under suspicion of having
brought on shore the discovered opium, had laid a formal accusation
against Lim Ho, on account of the brutal manner in which he had
treated his son. Now, the old opium-smoker had taken this step,
not because he felt any pity for his son, nor because he wished to
be revenged upon the Chinaman for the wrong he had thus inflicted
upon one of his family--still less had he done so because he was
anxious that the offender should receive condign punishment. Oh no,
Pak Ardjan was not actuated by any such motives as these.

A short time before his adventure at the Moeara Tjatjing Ardjan had
procured for his father a few katties of opium. So long as the supply
lasted, the old man had not troubled himself in the least about the
treatment his son had undergone; but when he saw that the supply was
beginning to run low, then he began to look with apprehension to the
future, and especially alarmed was he when he heard that Ardjan had
exchanged the hospital for the jail. His poor muddled brain fancied
that he might hasten Ardjan's release by making a charge against Lim
Ho; and he had been further encouraged to take the step by the advice
of a pettifogging lawyer, who thought that, in an action against the
rich son of the still more wealthy opium-farmer, he had discovered a
very pretty little vein of gold. Thus the charge was, in the proper
form, laid before the Court at Santjoemeh and a prosecution against
Lim Ho was ordered accordingly.

This matter the president of the Council had put into the hands of his
young colleague, van Nerekool, and he, most anxious that justice should
be done and that the miscreant should pay the legal penalty for his
offence; and glad also, thus to be able to perform the promise which he
had made to Anna, the fair daughter of the Resident, that he would do
his best to save Dalima's lover, had readily undertaken the case, and
was confident that he would be able to bring it to a successful issue.

But, on a certain afternoon, while the sun was yet high in the
heavens, Pak Ardjan had gone to have a look at his store of opium
which he had secreted by burying it deep in the ground, and heaping
over the place a heavy layer of stones. Much to his regret he found,
upon opening his store, that, at the most, he had but a couple of taël
left. These he proceeded to carry home with him; for he had promised
some opium-smoking friends to let them have a supply that evening,
and, as they were good customers and paid him handsomely, he would
not disappoint them.

When he reached home his children informed him that Singomengolo had
made his appearance in the dessa, and had been making sundry enquiries
about him. The appearance itself of the man in the dessa, was nothing
very extraordinary, nor was it, under the circumstances, strange that
Pak Ardjan's name should have been mentioned by him. But somehow or
other an accountable feeling of distrust came over the old man which
impelled him to try and hide the opium he had about him. Now if he
had been in his normal condition he would straightway have returned
to the ravine and buried his treasure safely in its former hiding
place, before further steps could be taken against him. But the fit of
depression was on him, his nerves were again beginning to play tricks
with him, his mental powers were, as usual after prolonged abstinence,
growing confused--in short he was bordering on that stage in which he
would need another dose of opium to pick him up. Accordingly, he set
aside a couple of matas for his own use, and, having carefully wrapped
the remainder in nipah-leaves, he thrust the packets for concealment
behind the attapa-leaves which formed the crazy roof of his cabin.

This done, it was the old story again, and the whole family had to
set to work to minister to him in his disgusting opium debauch.

But as he lay stretched there on the bench, and just as he was
beginning to light his third pipe, before that, therefore, he was
wholly under the influence of the poppy-juice, Singomengolo suddenly
appeared on the door-step, accompanied by four or five policemen,
and by the two Chinamen, who kept the opium-store. The instant he
crossed the threshold, the bandoelan knew what was going on within,
although Pak Ardjan had started up, and with some dexterity, had
managed to hide his pipe under the filthy pillow which is inevitably
present on every couch, and his children had secreted the lamp and
the yet unsmoked opium.

The sickly sweetish smell, however, which pervaded the close stuffy
room could not deceive anyone, least of all a bandoelan so thoroughly
experienced as was the agent of the opium-farmer.

"There has been opium smoked here!" he cried in a peremptory tone,
as he and his followers made their way into the cabin.

"Oh no," stammered Pak Ardjan in dismay, "oh no, indeed there has
not!" while his wife and children, like so many frightened sheep,
huddled together in a corner.

"Guard the door and the windows," cried Singo to his policemen, and
then turning again upon Pak Ardjan he repeated more sternly even than
before, "You have been smoking opium, I tell you!"

"Oh no, indeed I have not," replied the unfortunate man.

"Why there is the pipe," cried the opium hunter, as he triumphantly
drew the corpus delicti from under the pillow. "Why here is the pipe,
and quite hot too!"

Pak Ardjan already beside himself with fear felt completely crushed
at this evident proof of his guilt.

"Where is the opium?" asked Singomengolo in threatening tones.

Pak Ardjan returned no answer.

"Well, never mind," said Singo, "we shall soon find it," and a horrid
smile crossed his lips.

He made a signal to the Chinamen, and to the policemen who were not
engaged in watching the door and windows; and then ensued a search, we
may call it a hunt, the description of which may well seem incredible
to those who do not know that such frightful scenes are not at all
of uncommon occurrence.

Under the couch, under the mats which covered the floor, they
searched, they rooted up the very floor of the cabin, they poked
about under the stove and in the ashes of that very primitive kind
of cooking-apparatus; pillows were rent open, and their contents
scattered on the floor; the few boxes and baskets were torn open,
and the noisome rags they contained were shaken and contemptuously
flung aside; the poor miserable furniture, a few pots and pans, the
rice-kettle, the tombok-block, the rice-panniers, even the sirih-box
were turned over, but nothing--nothing could they find.

Singomengolo was angry. Now he ordered a body-search to be made.

First they seized upon Pak Ardjan and, though he offered some
resistance, he was, with sundry kicks and blows, very soon shaken
out of the few filthy rags which hung about him, and, in his hideous
leanness, he stood there naked before the eyes of his family. The
sense of decency, which never leaves even the most utterly degraded,
made the poor man cower down moaning to the ground trying to hide
his nakedness from the eyes of his children.

Then came the mother's turn, and the turn of the children--some of
them girls from seven to fourteen years of age. Regardless alike of
the mother's feelings or of the innocence of childhood, the inhuman
monsters proceeded in their search, and a scene was then enacted so
hideous, so disgusting, that over it we must draw a veil.

The children cried, the girls sobbed and wept, the mother shrieked
under this base and violent treatment, it was of no avail. But
presently, one of the policemen rudely seized upon the eldest daughter,
poor little Sarina, a girl of fourteen; she, in her fright, dropped
her sarong, and uttered a scream of terror. That cry made Pak Ardjan
bound to his feet, madly he flung himself upon the cowardly wretch,
with one wrench he dragged the fellow's sabre from its scabbard,
and with its edge he dealt the miscreant two such blows as sent him,
sorely wounded and howling with pain, flying from the scene of his
dastardly exploit. But the poor father thus goaded to madness and
blinded by fury, whose withered arm and wasted frame could not endure
any sustained exertion, was at once overpowered and disarmed before he
could strike another blow in defence of his outraged household. They
bound him most cruelly, they tied his ankles together and forced
the rough and prickly gemoetoe-cords between his toes, which at
the slightest movement, put the unfortunate man to excruciating
torture. Next they proceeded to handcuff him; but, as the manacles were
much too wide to confine his shrivelled wrists, they drove in between
the arm and the iron, rough pieces of firewood, and this caused such
intolerable pain that a lamentable howl came from Pak Ardjan's lips--a
howl most like that of some poor beast in its dying agony.

But now the opium? The opium? Hitherto none had been found.

Singomengolo stood scratching his ear. He was, indeed, in a most
awkward predicament.

"What a rage the Kandjeng toean Resident will be in," muttered he. But
he did not mind him much. He would bluster no doubt a good deal and
bark; but he would take good care not to bite.

But, what would Babah Lim Yang Bing think of it? might he not look
with suspicion upon all this fruitless zeal.

And then the newspapers! What if they began to talk--and talk those
confounded papers would there could be no doubt about it.

And the judges! What if they should take it up? They must take it up of
course. Pak Ardjan had violently, and with arms in his hand, resisted
the police--the opium police. And that was a crime which could not
be hushed up. That was one of the offences which the Dutchmen always
punished with the greatest severity. Yes, but then the fact would come
out that there had been a visitation, a pretty severe visitation,
and that nothing had been found. And then other matters might, and
would probably, leak out. Aye, they had handled the little girls a
little too brutally. And those judges were such an inquisitive lot,
they were sure to get to the bottom of it all. He was in an awkward
plight. Oh! had he but found the opium! Or better still, had he but
taken his usual precautions!

"And yet," muttered he, as his hawk-like eye darted round the little
hut, "I had such very precise instructions. I was to wait until Pak
Ardjan had returned from the ravine, then--But would it not have been
much wiser to surprise him in the ravine?--No, no--that would never
have done--he might have sworn that he had found the opium there by
chance, and those judges are so lenient, they will believe anything,
and they never convict if there is the possibility of a doubt. No, no,
the opium must--it shall--be found in Pak Ardjan's own possession,
that only will be conclusive evidence of guilt. But--I cannot find
it--Eh! eh!" he exclaimed, "what have we here?" With one bound
Singomengolo reached the corner where a slight bulge in the roof
seemed to look as if it had quite lately been disturbed. The edges
of the nipah-leaves did not look quite so dark in that spot as the
others which had been exposed to the smoke. The bandoelan thrust his
hand into the roof, he felt about for a few moments, and then, he drew
forth two small parcels. These he hastily unwrapped and uttered a cry
of triumph. It was the opium which Pak Ardjan had tried to hide just
before his house was searched. "You lie, you scoundrel!" roared he,
to the wretched Javanese, as he dealt him a blow in the face with
the back of his hand, which made the blood to spurt from his lips.

But the latter replied not a word.

When the captured opium had been duly examined by the witnesses,
the detected criminal was flung into a filthy sedan-chair carried by
some natives who had been pressed for that service. Thus under proper
escort and guard, Pak Ardjan was conveyed to Santjoemeh, and lodged
in the jail.

A few days later Resident van Gulpendam laid a formal charge
against Pak Ardjan before the court at Santjoemeh. He was accused of
opium-smuggling, and of having violently, and with arms in his hands,
resisted the police in the execution of their duty; one of the officers
having received serious wounds in the affray.

Mr. Zuidhoorn, the President, read over the charge, and as he read
he could not conceal a bitter smile. "It is disgusting," muttered he,
"disgusting!"








CHAPTER 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."








CHAPTER 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.








CHAPTER 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.








CHAPTER 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."








CHAPTER 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.








CHAPTER 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."








CHAPTER XVI.

THE OPIUM-MONOPOLY. A QUIET CHAT.


The people of Kaligaweh were quiet folk, and did as they were
told. Very soon the dessa had resumed its ordinary peaceful appearance,
and the little group of European gentlemen were once again seated
under the widely-spreading crown of the gigantic wild-fig tree. But
if, a short time ago, they had paid but very little attention to the
wondrous beauties of the tropical night, their visit to the opium-den
made them still more indifferent to its attractions. As soon as they
were again seated, the conversation, naturally enough, turned upon
the terrible scenes which they had witnessed.

"In that passage," said Grashuis, who, as surveyor, was accustomed
to take in local details at a glance, "there were twenty-four doors
and therefore there must be twenty-four such hideous pens. If all of
them--What a pity it is that we allowed ourselves to be scared and
that we did not carry out our investigation to the end."

"No, no, my friend," said Verstork, "I am glad we did not. Almost
all the recesses were occupied, and the scenes which they would have
revealed would have differed only from those you saw in the degree
of beastliness. I repeat it--it is much better that we did not go
on. But, when I tell you that in the dessa Kaligaweh there are some
eighty households which number about six hundred souls, one hundred
and thirty of which are able-bodied working men, and that such a den
as we visited remains open for three-quarters of the four-and-twenty
hours--And when I further tell you that if you had looked into the
wretched huts all around you would have found many an opium-smoker
in them also--then, I think you will be able to form some idea of
the extent which the abuse of opium has attained."

"Do you happen to know," asked Grashuis, who was fond of statistics,
"what percentage of the inhabitants is given to this abuse of opium?"

"Well," returned the other, "I do not think we shall do much good
by troubling ourselves about figures which are generally misleading
and only serve to prove how clever statisticians are in the art de
grouper les chiffres."

"Yes," said Grenits, "and we know full well that treasury officials
have very little scruples on such points."

"It is a blessing that Muizenkop does not hear you say that," said van
Rheijn, with a laugh, "you would see him fire up at such a suggestion."

"With regard to Kaligaweh," continued Verstork, "I venture most
confidently to assert that there are not ten men in the dessa who
are free from the vice of opium smoking."

"Humph," muttered van Beneden, who, though a lawyer, was also fond
of figures, "that is about 93 per cent."

"I found that out," continued the controller, "when, about a
twelvemonth ago I was on the look-out for a man to put into the place
of my former loerah; a good fellow enough, but one whom the opium-pipe
had rendered totally unfit for any position of trust."

"Did you succeed?" asked Grenits.

"Yes, I did; but not without much difficulty. It was my intention to
appoint Setrosmito, the poor devil who just now has got himself into
trouble, and it was only because the man could neither read nor write
that I had to give up the idea. The inquiries, however, which I then
was forced to make, revealed to me the startling fact that women,
and even children of eight or nine years of age use opium. They
actually scrape out the father's pipe in order to get hold of the
fatal narcotic."

"But," remarked van Beneden, "Kaligaweh probably forms an exception."

"Not by any means," rejoined Verstork, testily; "during my official
career I have been stationed in several residencies, and I venture to
affirm that, as far as opium is concerned, their condition is much
the same as that in Santjoemeh. You will find hundreds of dessas in
the island like Kaligaweh."

"I suppose," put in Grenits, "we must except the Preanger districts?"

"Oh yes, certainly," assented Verstork, "the use of opium is altogether
forbidden there."

"And does that work well?"

"Excellently," said Verstork.

"That is, I have no doubt," asked Grashuis, "a tentative measure on
the part of the Government which, if it succeeds, will be extended
to the whole of Java?"

"Not at all," replied Verstork. "In the first place the prohibition
has been in force too long to be merely tentative for it dates back
as far as 1824; and then, in the next, it was not at all adopted with
the view of checking the abuse of opium; but merely because it was
feared that the people would take to coffee-stealing in order to be
able to satisfy their craving."

"Come," said van Rheijn, "that is not at all a bad idea."

"Is it possible," exclaimed Grashuis, "to conceive a more cynical
confession of the fact that opium demoralises the people?"

"And if," continued Grenits, "you add that confession to the scenes
which we have just witnessed, then put the question seriously to
yourselves: is there any truth in the assertion made by van Rheijn
and backed up by van Beneden, that the abuse of opium can in any way
be compared to the abuse of alcohol, or put on the same level with
it? No, no, in my opinion, it is infinitely more deplorable!"

"Such is my opinion also," assented Verstork; "every attempt made to
put down or to limit the extent of opium-smoking and to check its
abuse, must be looked upon as an act of much greater philanthropy
than the efforts made by the friends of temperance or the preachers
of total abstinence. But--"

"Yes--but what?" cried another.

"But," continued he, "every such attempt is a direct blow aimed at
the revenue at home."

"Aye, aye, there you have it," said Grenits; "and whenever you raise
such a question as that, our good friends at the Hague are uncommonly
hard of hearing."

"Well, I don't blame them," interrupted van Rheijn, "they cannot
afford to sacrifice the millions which the opium trade pours into
the treasury."

"God help us!" cried Grenits, "did ever man hear such an argument as
that? What would you say to a thief who would try to excuse his theft
by saying that he was in need of the stolen money to go and fuddle
himself in a beershop; or to a murderer who would try and justify his
crime by stating that he poisoned his uncle only because he wanted
the inheritance to--to--well, say to keep his mistress?"

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried several voices, "what a comparison!"

"Yes," said Verstork, "the comparison is certainly not flattering;
but it has the advantage of being a perfectly just one. So long as
our country indulges in the costly luxury of an administration such
as ours; and so long as it maintains the opium trade in its present
state to furnish funds for that costly administration: such proceeding
may very justly be compared to the action of a thief who steals a
banknote in order to go and spend it in a gin-palace."

"Or rather," cried Grenits, "to that of a man who poisons his uncle
so that he may have the handling of his money. I consider the latter
comparison to be a still more just one; because it cannot be denied
that though Holland has always treated her Indian possessions as a
milch-cow, the present system of scraping and squeezing is beginning
to exceed all reasonable bounds and limits."

"Oh! oh!" again cried van Rheijn and van Beneden as in protest.

"Well gentlemen," asked Grenits, "am I exaggerating? Tell me now,
are they not, at home, exceeding all limits and bounds in the heavy
taxation which they heap on the shoulders of the industrial and
commercial classes?"

"Aye, but," remarked van Beneden, "you must remember that in Holland
people have to pay taxes as well as out here."

"If you will take the trouble to look into the matter," said Grenits,
"you will find that they do not pay anything like what the people
have to pay here. Then again, I ask, do they not exceed all bounds
and limits in increasing the burdens, already too heavy, which the
poor native population has to bear?"

"I quite agree with you there," said Verstork.

"Do they not," continued Grenits, "exceed all limits in the pitiful
and niggardly way in which they treat their soldiers out here?"

"How so?" asked van Rheijn.

"Why, to give you but one instance, by loudly declaring that there
is peace at Atjeh--a peace which has no real existence whatever--and
thereby robbing the poor soldiers and doing them clean out of their
already too meagre pay?"

"Oh, what need we bother ourselves about those soldier fellows!" cried
van Rheijn.

"Do they not again," continued Grenits, "overpass all reasonable
limits, by encouraging and fostering the abuse of opium?"

"Now, that is too bad," cried van Beneden, "now you are going too far;
that accusation of yours is not a fair one."

"You think so, do you?" said Grenits. "Well then just take Band's book
in hand. There you will find proof absolute of the fact that it is,
and has always been, the policy at the Hague to encourage and to foster
the opium-trade as much as possible. Figures are stubborn things--just
listen to what they have to say. In 1832, the opium revenue amounted
to three millions, in 1842 it rose to very nearly seven millions. In
1870 it was quite ten millions, in 1880 it amounted to thirteen
millions. In 1885 that same revenue rose to nineteen millions; and new,
in 1886, it is estimated at quite twenty one millions, and our House
of Representatives has accepted that estimate without the slightest
demur, and without one word of protest. Of course, every now and then,
there is a great moan made in political and in other circles at home,
and a great deal is said about the iniquities of the opium trade;
but, for all that, the authorities have their hands perfectly free
and are encouraged by all parties to squeeze out of that trade as
much as it can be made to yield."

"But, excuse me," asked van Rheijn, "is it not one of the first duties
of every government to make an impost as productive as possible?"

"Certainly it is,--and it is precisely therein that lies the immorality
and the demoralizing tendency of the opium-monopoly. You see, in
order to enable the farmers to increase their bids, the abuse of the
drug must be encouraged. Thus the poor natives are driven, we may
say, into the opium-den by any and by every means--the most illegal
and the dirtiest means seem to have the preference. Just read our
local papers, and then you will be edified, I think, at the infamous
annoyance which the Chinese opium-factors are empowered to inflict
upon the non-consumers, and at the unlimited control they are allowed
to exercise, always in the most shameless and arbitrary fashion,
over any poor wretch who, seeing, it may be, the error of his ways,
tries to diminish his daily consumption."

"Or provide himself with smuggled opium," remarked van Rheijn,
interrupting him.

Grenits, however, paid no heed to the remark, and went on: "The
opium-monopoly was originally established with the very laudable
object of raising the price of the article and of thus leaving it
within the reach of as few people as possible. On that principle,
therefore, every regulation must be condemned which tends to augment
the revenue by increasing, the sale. But, at present, our Colonial
Secretary relies upon the system as a regular means of increasing the
revenue. When we have such facts as these before us, facts which can be
proved to demonstration, then we feel ourselves driven to pronounce
this judgment: 'Our government and our representatives are fully
convinced of the terrible and fatal effects of the abuse of opium by
their Indian subjects; but they will not consent to forego the profit
which they obtain by the wholesale poisoning of an entire population.'"

"Come, come, poisoning! That is a rather strong word!" cried van
Beneden.

"Yes," continued Grenits, very quietly, "I said poisoning--that was
my word. If in Holland an apothecary does not keep his opium in the
proper poison chest, or if he is detected in selling it without the
proper order from a medical man, he is fined--very heavily fined. Am
I not right, van Nerekool?"

Thus addressed van Nerekool raised his head, looked up vacantly for
a moment or two and gave an affirmative nod; it seemed very doubtful
whether he had understood the question at all. Grenits, however,
accepted that nod as a gesture of assent, and continued:

"Yet that same poison may here be procured without the slightest
difficulty, nay more than that, is actually forced upon the poor
people in the most shameless manner by the Chinese scoundrels who
keep the opium dens. And that goes on under the eyes, and with the
full cognizance, sanction, and under the protection of the Dutch
Government."

"You are growing tiresome," sneered van Rheijn, "you keep on harping on
that one string--the Dutch Government--The fact is, my dear fellow,
you are tarred with the self-same brush of discontent as all the
manufacturers and merchants out here in India."

"Why should I not be?" cried Grenits passionately. "I do not always
agree with all their opinions; but yet I do form a part of that
important commercial body; and when a question arises which effects
the vital interests of industry and commerce--Well, yes, then you
may say that I am tarred with the same brush."

"But have these grumblers really so very much to complain of?" asked
Grashuis in a bantering tone of voice.

"I should think they have," replied Grenits. "Under our present
system we are not only flayed; but we are sucked dry, in a manner
which, elsewhere, would drive men to open rebellion. When the Dutch
revolted against Spain, and when the Belgians rose up in arms against
the Dutch, neither of them had anything like so much to complain of as
we have here,--neither of them suffered anything like the extortion
which the Indo-Europeans have to put up with at the hands of their
present oppressors."

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried several voices.

"We have now to pay duties and taxes compared to which the tithes at
which our ancestors rebelled were the merest child's play. And then,
in return, what rights do we enjoy?--If one could, on so serious a
subject, be capable of indulging in a sorry joke--I might say that we
have the privilege only of having absolutely no rights at all. For,
that which here in India goes by the name of law and justice, is in
reality nothing more than the merest burlesque; and that is especially
true in all matters which concern the revenue. Wherever there is a
little money to be made, the State flings itself upon its victims
as some ravenous beast leaps upon its prey, and then one may look
in vain for the smallest protection--least of all in any case which
concerns that imperium in imperio the terrible opium monopoly!"

"You are exaggerating, you are talking wildly!" cried van Rheijn.

"I wish I were," continued Grenits; "but just take up that terrible
book 'Might versus Right,' a book written by a member of the High Court
of Justice at Batavia, who was formerly, for many years, Attorney
General in that same court, and for half an ordinary lifetime was
president of the Residential Council. A man, therefore, who ought to
know, and who does know what he is talking about, and then--when you
have read what he has to say--tell me if I am exaggerating."

"Oh, the writer of that book is another grumbler!" said van Rheijn,
"whose only object is to set the whole world against the functionaries
of our Administration."

"That is a very heavy accusation to bring against a man who, in
my opinion, is thoroughly honest, and who has had the courage, and
therefore deserves the credit, of having told the plain unvarnished
truth. Such, however, is our national gratitude!"

"Oh yes!" cried van Rheijn, "I am not at all surprised to find you
commercial men in ecstasies about that man and about his book. To
all grumblers it is of course meat and drink."

"Let me tell you, my good fellow," said Grenits, "that those whom
you call grumblers have had good cause given them for discontent."

"Come, come," said the other, "you talk very finely; but after all
they are only a pitiful handful of very tame insurgents. Depend upon
it we shall manage very easily to keep order among them."

"Yes, yes, I know," said Grenits, bitterly, "that is the old stock
phrase. It was used some little time ago by certain organs of the
Dutch press when the people, exasperated by vexatious extortions,
strove--by perfectly legitimate means mind you--to resist acts of
arbitrary injustice and exaction on the part of the Dutch Government.

"Tame insurgents!" continued he, vehemently. "Tame insurgents! By
heaven! let them not at home taunt us much longer with that name. A
very little more, and they will be at their wits' end to deal with
an insurrection which will prove itself anything but tame. Don't let
them forget, yonder, that, to carry on a miserable war like that at
Atjeh, they had to sweep up the scum of Europe; for you know that
Dutch heroism in our towns at home made the poor wretches whom they
manage to press for that service sing the pleasant refrain:


   'My life is pain and woe,
    To Atjeh I will go ...'"


"Grenits, Grenits!" cried Verstork, trying to calm his friend's
growing excitement.

"Yes," said he, "my dear Verstork, I am wrong and I am going too far,
I have very nearly done. But those heedless words, 'tame insurgents,'
have worked a great deal more mischief than those who first uttered
them could possibly foresee. They have proved to us that, in our
lawful resistance to extortion, we have nothing to expect but only
contempt and abuse. May God in his mercy protect Holland! But I have
good reason to know that if a man were to arise amongst us possessed of
the necessary talent for organisation, and one who, at the same time,
had sufficient tact to gather around him all that discontent which at
present is powerless because it is divided amongst itself--If such
a man, I say, were to arise who could make the most of the utter
state of perplexity they are in yonder--we, the 'tame insurgents,'
would make our mother country pass through very evil days indeed!"

"Well," said van Rheijn, "all that is not so very formidable after
all. In case matters came to the worst, the army would know how to
do its duty."

"Its duty!" cried Grenits. "That sounds well from you who just now were
the first to scoff at those 'soldier fellows'. But I ask you this one
question:--Has the Government any right whatever to reckon upon the
fulfilment of that duty? Has it not neglected, in the most shameful
manner, its duty towards that army? I will allow--I am indeed fully
persuaded--that in spite of any treatment the officers would stick
to their duty, and would do it strictly and honourably. But--! can
one expect as much from all the foreigners, which have been shipped
out hither? Why, even now in Atjeh, they are deserting to the enemy
with bag and baggage, with arms and ammunition--and, in the case
I was supposing, they would go over in entire companies. Can one
look for any sense of duty in these poor wretched native soldiers,
who have almost to a man, by the most shameful means--by opium, by
gambling, by the allurements of the vilest women--been pressed into
the service. No, no, pray don't go on deceiving yourselves."

"There!" cried van Rheijn, "now you are simply talking treason--your
language is seditious."

"Treason, do you call it?" cried Grenits, passionately. "When I do
nothing more than lay my finger upon the wound?"

"Gentlemen," said Verstork interposing, "methinks it is high time
to close this discussion. Such topics are very apt to make men hot,
and--moreover, why, it is just past midnight. We must go and get some
rest, for to-morrow we must be up by day-break and we have a very
fatiguing day before us. The Djoerang Pringapoes which you visited
with me this evening, is no ball-room let me tell you--you will find
that out to-morrow. Come, let us all turn in and get some sleep!"

At these words all, except van Nerekool, rose and prepared to retire.

"I am very glad," said Grashuis, "that old Muizenkop was not present at
this conversation. Had he been here, by to-morrow evening the Resident
would have known all about it, chapter and verse, with no doubt the
necessary additions and flourishes. And then, my good friend Grenits,
you would have had a 'mauvais quart d'heure.' Who knows, they might
have packed you off to Atapoepoe or to Tomini Bay; perhaps they
might have kicked you out of the island altogether. Remember poor
lawyer Winckel!"

Grenits shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.

"Are you coming to bed?" asked Verstork as he walked up to van Nerekool
who was still seated with his head resting on his hand outside the
hut which the others had already entered.

Van Nerekool made no reply, he merely looked up and stared into the
face of his friend with a strange dazed expression.

"What in the world is the matter with you, old fellow?" said Verstork
as he laid his hand on his shoulder and sat down by the side of his
friend. "You have been so silent and so absent all day, you must be
ill I fear!"

"No, William, I am not ill, but I feel so very--so very wretched."

"Wretched!" said Verstork, "come now, tell us all about it, there's
a good fellow, let me bear some part of your sorrow!"

"Ah!" sighed van Nerekool, "I can tell you nothing--nothing that
you could share with me. William, my dear friend, you recollect our
conversation of last Saturday night at Santjoemeh?"

"Every word of it," replied Verstork. "I then told you that in one
week's time I would give you my reasons why I considered your love
affair with Miss van Gulpendam a very sad business. That week is up
to-day--is it not?"

"Yes, my friend," said van Nerekool very sadly. "But you can tell me
nothing now. During the last week many things have happened. I suppose
that even on Saturday last you knew that Resident van Gulpendam was
not at all well disposed towards me?"

To that question Verstork gave no direct reply; but he insisted upon
being told all that had taken place.

"Come," said he, "come, Charles, tell me all about it. You know
perfectly well that you have in me a true friend. Let us hear all
about it."

"But," replied van Nerekool, "you want rest. You ought to go to
sleep. To-morrow you have a hard day before you."

"Oh!" said Verstork, lightly, "never mind about that. I have often
enough gone the rounds of the government coffee-plantations, and have
passed many a sleepless night in the dessas with quite as hard a day
in prospect as to-morrow is likely to be. I can very easily afford
an old friend like you an hour or so of sleep. Do pray speak out."

Charles van Nerekool hesitated no longer. He felt indeed in great need
of sympathy; and wanted, above all things, to pour out his heart to
his friend. He began his story therefore, by telling him how, on the
occasion of the State-ball, he had declared his love to Anna.

In the most vivid colours he described to his friend that happy moment
in which, carried away by the excitement of the dance and the glorious
tones of Weber's waltz, he had allowed the long-treasured secret of
his heart to escape from him; and his rapture when the girl, whom he
so dearly loved, had uttered the one little word which assured him
that she returned his affection. He told him of that sacred moment
when their lips first met in the garden.


   "Oscula qui sumpsit, si non et caetera sumpsit
    Haec quoque quae data sunt, perdere dignus erat."


muttered Verstork to himself. He, in his youth, had studied the
classics, and now he could not help smiling as he recalled the two
well-known lines from Ovid's Ars Amandi. But when he saw with what
a sorrowful shake of the head his friend answered the half audible
quotation, he at once discovered how deep a wound had been struck into
that poor heart. The story of that blissful love-scene and of those
happy moments spent in the garden of the Residence in the shade of
the Padan arbour, was followed by an equally graphic description of
the rude awakening out of that dream of love and felicity. Charles
van Nerekool went on telling his friend how Mrs. van Gulpendam had
broken in upon the interview--he told him all about the conversation
which he afterwards had held with fair Laurentia.

A very very bitter smile passed over the Controller's lips when
he heard what means of seduction the Resident's wife had deigned
to employ.

"My poor friend, my poor friend," he muttered almost inaudibly;
"but is this all?"

"Oh, no!" cried van Nerekool.

"Well, go on, I am all ears."

"The next day," continued van Nerekool, "I paid a visit to the
Residence, as I had promised Anna I would do; in order to lay before
her father my formal request for her hand. I had great difficulty in
obtaining an audience at all; and it was not until after I had waited
for a considerable time that I got to be admitted into the presence
of the Resident.

"'I have not very much time to spare, sir,' were his first words of
welcome when he saw me enter the office in which he sat to receive me.

"'I have not very much time to spare, therefore I beg you will at
once get under weigh.'

"'Mr. van Gulpendam,' I began, 'yesterday I had some talk with Miss
Anna--and--'

"'Do pray set sail at once,' cried he, interrupting my opening speech,
'I tell you again I have no time for dawdling. I may at once tell you
that I do not think it a very proper thing for a gentleman to get a
young girl into a quiet corner. Fair and above board is my motto,
sir. An honest man sails straight into port. All that tacking and
trimming are not to my taste, I can tell you.'

"'My dear sir!' cried I, 'I have already told Mrs. van Gulpendam
that the excitement and the surroundings had quite thrown me off my
guard. It is now, and it always was, my intention to ask you fairly
and openly for your daughter's hand. There can, between us, be no
question of any intrigues or mysteries, and my presence here, Mr. van
Gulpendam, has no other motive than to declare to you my love to Miss
Anna, and to obtain your sanction to our union as man and wife.'

"'So, so,' said he, 'does the wind sit in that quarter? You have
pricked your chart very prettily indeed. Now would you like to know
what I have put down in my log, eh?'

"'Mr. van Gulpendam, I can assure you that I never was more serious in
my life--the question is to me one of the utmost importance,' said I,
amazed and disgusted at all this sea-jargon. 'In heaven's name let
us lay aside all jesting. I simply have the honour of asking you for
the hand of your daughter.'

"'Mr. van Nerekool,' he replied, 'I also am in a most serious
mood.' This he said in a somewhat nettled tone, however, not another
nautical expression passed his lips during the interview. 'How can
you suspect me of jesting, when I ask you whether you can surmise to
what decision I am about to come with regard to your question?'

"'I hope,' cried I, 'that your decision will not be unfavourable to
me! Oh, sir, I love Miss Anna with all my heart and with all my soul!'

"'Of course, of course,' said he, 'these are the regular stock phrases
of all lovers. Now, are you really and seriously in love with her?'

"'How can you ask such a question?' cried I, vehemently.

"'Well,' replied van Gulpendam, 'I have my reasons,--and they are
very good reasons too--for doing so. You had an interview yesterday
evening with my wife, had you not?'

"'Yes, Resident,' was my reply.

"'And the conversation you then held with her opened up to you the
prospect of a future career. I think I am right there?' was his
second question.

"I simply sat staring at the man in utter amazement. Never, never,
could it have come into my head that he and his wife were of the same
way of thinking in such a matter as that."

"Why not, pray?" asked Verstork, very quietly.

"Why, my dear friend, I looked upon the Resident as worldly and
frivolous indeed; but I thought he was an honourable man, and one
who kept himself altogether clear of the intrigues in which his wife
appears to dabble."

Again the bitter smile curved Verstork's lips; but in the deep shadow
of the the Wariengien tree, van Nerekool failed to perceive it.

"Go on," said Verstork, who, though deeply moved, spoke in so perfectly
quiet and composed a tone of voice, that his friend did not notice
his feelings.

"To his last question," resumed van Nerekool, "I replied, 'Yes,
Resident, you are right. Mrs. van Gulpendam did make me certain
proposals.'

"'She spoke to you then of your future prospects, as well as on the
subject of your present request?' asked the Resident.

"'Yes, Resident,' was my reply,--indeed I was growing very nervous.

"'Well, then,' resumed he, 'you see that you have the making of your
career entirely in your own hands; and I do hope that you will now
at length prove yourself a man of some practical common sense.'

"My dear William! at these words, which, you will notice, cast a
grave suspicion upon the motive of my request, upon which, however,
my entire happiness depended, I felt, as it were, the ground sinking
away from under me.

"'But, Resident,' I cried, in despair, 'do you really know what
Mrs. van Gulpendam did propose to me?'

"'Well, yes,' he said, in a very off-hand and somewhat mocking manner,
'pretty well, pretty well, I think. She held out to you the prospect
of being appointed successor to the present Chairman of the Council
at Santjoemeh, which important position, I think she told you,
might very probably be permanently conferred upon you. Further she
did not refuse you her daughter's hand--whom you declare that you
love so very dearly. You see I am pretty well informed. Now, if you
have called upon me this morning to ascertain what guarantees I can
give you that these proposals will be realised--and allow me to tell
you that is the course a sensible man would certainly take--then,
I think I may say, you need not be uneasy.'

"This utterly false interpretation of my motives, stung me to the
quick. What ignoble thoughts and sentiments must have been stirring
in that bosom!

"'Mr. van Gulpendam!' I cried out, interrupting him, very warmly,
'I was not in the least thinking of those proposals. Still less,
if possible, did I call here this morning in order to ascertain your
intentions--nothing of all this was present to my mind when I asked
you whether you were aware of the offers Mrs. van Gulpendam made me
last night.'

"'Indeed,' said he very coolly, 'then I fear I have misunderstood
you altogether, Mr. van Nerekool. In that case with what intention
did you put that question to me?'

"'What was my intention?' I replied. 'Why, my intention was simply
this. Are you aware that Mrs. van Gulpendam asked me to violate my
oath and my duty?'

"'Oh, come, come,' said he all but laughing at me.

"'Are you aware,' I continued still more hotly, 'that I was actually
required to send a poor innocent man into banishment?'

"'My dear sir, you must be dreaming,' said he in the same tone
of banter.

"'Are you aware,' I still continued, 'that the prospect of obtaining
your daughter's hand, that honours and promotion were offered me at
the price of a human life?'

"'Now Mr. van Nerekool,' cried van Gulpendam with much assumed
indignation, 'now you are going too far! I forbid you to utter such
insinuations and to make such charges against my wife. What! you come
here to me to ask me for my daughter's hand, and you think you will
obtain your request, I suppose, by heaping insults and slanders upon
the mother of the woman you pretend to love!'

"'Insults and slanders!' I exclaimed.

"At these words of mine he cooled down immediately.

"'Well' said he, 'perhaps the expression is too strong. There must
be some misunderstanding.' And then, very quietly, he went on: 'Your
proposal, Mr. van Nerekool, is a great honour both to my daughter and
to myself. It has, however, come upon me so very unexpectedly that I
feel sure you will allow me some time for reflection. I must indeed
take some little time to consider a matter upon which the entire
happiness of my daughter will depend. Moreover, you see there can be
no hurry. Anna is very young--she is indeed much too young to think
of marriage just yet.'

"'You do not therefore deprive me of hope?' I exclaimed and, in my
excitement, I seized his hand and held it.

"He looked at me in astonishment. 'I can promise you nothing,
absolutely nothing, Mr. van Nerekool. Anna has plenty of time before
her, she can take a year--two years, perhaps--before she decides upon
a step which involves a union for life. By that time we can talk over
these matters again. Meanwhile--' He broke off hesitating.

"'Meanwhile?' I asked almost breathlessly.

"'Meanwhile,' he continued very coldly, 'you will do well not to
continue your visits at the Residence. I know you do not wish
to compromise a simple-hearted and honest young girl, I shall,
therefore, not expect to see you here excepting, of course, at our
official receptions.'

"That was plain speaking enough,--was it not William? It was tantamount
to a refusal."

Verstork looked at his friend with very real and deep sympathy.

"I had a presentiment," he said, "of the trouble that was awaiting
you. You remember in what manner I received your communication
last week?"

"Yes, and to-day you promised you would let me know why--"

"Now tell me, Charles," said Verstork, "is there any need for me to
say anything more? You must, by this time, I presume, have been able
to form a pretty accurate estimate of the family circle into which
you would have been received in case your offer had been accepted."

"But William, Anna--!"

"Oh, yes," cried Verstork, "I know Anna is the purest and most
amiable creature in the world. I know, as well as you do, that Anna is
absolutely innocent of all this intrigue and trickery. Indeed I have
often wondered how so fair a flower could have opened and developed
in the midst of such surroundings. But, let the girl be--why simply
what she is--however adorable she may be, if you marry her you cannot
help being fettered to her parents, who are most certainly the most
self-seeking and most corrupt beings which can possibly be found in
any respectable society. My dear friend, just reflect how utterly and
hopelessly wretched you would be tied to such a pair of schemers. That,
my dear fellow, was the very thing I wanted to point out to you."

Van Nerekool heaved a deep sigh and, lost in thought, did not answer
a word. He sat as one in a dream, with his head resting on his hand,
peering upwards into the vast crown of the Wariengien tree through
which the moon, now high up in the heavens, was casting her soft
white beams.

For awhile Verstork respected his friend's silence. At length he said:
"Come now, Charles, you have, I hope, somewhat relieved your breast. I
have with a single word been able to draw your attention to that which
it imported you much to know. Now try and forget all this for a while
in sleep. You have this day had a long--and to you who are unaccustomed
to such exercise--a necessarily fatiguing ride. Rest will, therefore,
be most beneficial to you. To-morrow still greater fatigues are in
store for you. These also I hope will be a distraction, and prove
wholesome to your mind. If we would be fit for work to-morrow we must
get some sleep. Come along."

Van Nerekool sighed again. Without a word he rose, he pressed the
hand of his friend and then followed him into the hut. The others
were already fast asleep, and he stretched himself out by their side
upon the wooden bench.








CHAPTER XVII.

IN THE DJOERANG PRINGAPOES.


Toeaan!--Toeaaan!--Toeaaaan!--

Such were the most unwelcome sounds which, a few hours later, were
heard in the hut in which all our friends lay heavily sleeping.

Gentle sleep had, at length, taken compassion on poor van Nerekool
also. For a long time after his conversation with Verstork, he had not
been able to close an eye; and had been tumbling and tossing about
and making the crazy couch creak and groan to such an extent that
Leendert Grashuis and August van Beneden, who were close beside him,
had uttered many an angry exclamation:

"For heaven's sake keep quiet! don't keep rolling about like that--it
is enough to make a fellow sea-sick--" and then again:

"The majesty of the law seems uncommonly restless to-night; perhaps
the mosquitoes trouble it, or an unquiet conscience, or a fit of
the blues."

But at length, thank God, Charles had fallen into a deep sleep;
he was not destined, however, very long to enjoy that blissful rest.

"Toeaan! Toeaaan!" Thus once again the voice began to cry. It was the
voice of Verstork's servant who had got the watchman of the guard-house
to wake him, and was now very cautiously trying to rouse his master
out of his sleep.

But the Javanese servant felt that he was engaged in a very ticklish
duty; and he set about it with all the circumspection which he was
aware such unpleasant duties required.

He knew, by sad experience, that European gentlemen are apt to lose
their temper when suddenly, at a very early hour, they are aroused
out of a delightful sleep; therefore, on all such occasions the wily
Javanese serving-man preferred to keep at a respectful distance from
his Kandjeng toean, who, he knew, might at such a time be easily
moved to raise his hand and deal him a sound box on the ears for his
trouble. Not that Verstork was at all given to such rough usage of
his servants; on the contrary, he was known and beloved among the
natives for his kindly consideration, and for the coolness of his
temper. But this was a wholly exceptional occasion, and one could
never tell what the sudden irritation of being roughly shaken out
of a pleasant slumber might produce. It was very easy to get a good
slap in the face, and therefore the astute Javanese prudently kept
himself at a safe distance.

"Toeaan! Toeaaan!" he ventured to say again in a very intense drawling
whisper. But Verstork did not hear him.

"Toeaan! Kandjeng toeaan!"

Still not a word!

Then the servant very cautiously crept up to the couch. When he was
close to his master he again cried out, in a still more subdued and
still more drawling voice, "Toeaaan! toeaaaan!"

Still Verstork stirred not a limb, only van Nerekool seemed to have
caught the sound, and was beginning to move about restlessly.

Then the man, very gently--so gently that it could not disturb the
sleeper--began to fold back that part of the rug which covered his
master's feet. The faint glimmer of the lamp which hung dangling from
one of the rafters, just allowed him to see what he was about. When
he had laid bare one of Verstork's feet, he began very, very gently
to tickle his master's great-toe, while in the same cautious manner he
again whispered "Toeaaan! toeaaaan!" and seemed, by the very humility
of his voice, to beg pardon for the liberty he was taking in rousing
his high and mighty master.

This tickling of the toe had, at once, the desired effect. Starting
up Verstork sat up and cried:

"Who is there?" As he said these words he put his hand to his foot,
evidently fearing that a snake had touched him. Indeed, the chilly and
leathery skin of a native may very easily convey such an impression,
especially on a man who is but half awake.

"Who is there?" he cried again. But by this time the Javanese
servant had, with a bound, jumped away out of the possible reach of
his master's hand, and from the furthest corner of the hut he said:
"It is I, Kandjeng toean!"

"What do you want?" roared the Controller, now thoroughly aroused,
and not in the sweetest temper.

"It is now four o'clock, and the dessa people are all waiting."

"Is that all?" growled Verstork, who thought that his rest had been
very unnecessarily disturbed. Who knows what absurdity he might in his
drowsiness have added, had not the "toeaan, toeaan" of his servant,
and the subsequent noise awakened van Beneden also, who was sleeping
quite close to him.

He jumped up at once, and the moment he was awake began, as the
Resident might perhaps have said, to turn up all hands.

"Come boys!" he shouted cheerily "Come boys, get up all of you!" as he
threw himself from his bed with such energy as made the slight bamboo
structure sway and creak as if it had been rocked by an earthquake.

"What's the matter, what's up?" cried several voices starting out
of sleep.

"What's up?" cried van Beneden. "There's nothing up! You get up,
all of you, as fast as you can. It is four o'clock, and the dessa
folk are all ready for the chase."

That word acted like magic. In a twinkling all were on their legs. They
dressed, washed, combed, brushed themselves as well as one can perform
all these processes in the interior of a dessa, which offers no great
facilities for an elaborate toilet to Europeans who have passed the
night in a small country hut.

For washing, indeed, there was no convenience at all--the only basin
in the place was a mere potsherd. But, all were anxious to be off,
and like soldiers who, in the field, have not always Sèvres or even
Delt at command, they did the best they could, and soon completed
their hasty toilet. Diogenes, the Greek philosopher of Sinope, had
frequently, no doubt, dressed himself in much the same fashion. In
a few moments all were ready, even van Nerekool who was bent upon
seeking some relief for mental pain in physical exertion.

When they stepped out of the cabin they saw the entire male population
seated cross-legged on the village green, trying to protect themselves
from the cold morning air by drawing their sarongs as far as possible
over their shoulders. Every man had brought his lance, and had stuck
it upright before him into the ground. Every one of them held a huge
rattle, an instrument very like that with which our old watchmen used
to murder sleep while they pretended to keep guard over the sleepers.

The moon was, by this time, casting her beams under the branches
of the Wariengien tree, and, as the pale light shone upon that
strange group of human beings seated there in a crouching posture,
it illustrated most vividly the theory of Darwin, so very much did
that assembly look like a great conclave of apes.

"Are all your men here, Loerah?" asked Verstork.

"Yes, Kandjeng toean."

"Very good. Then send one part of them round by the maize fields of
the dessa, let the second division spread itself to the westward over
the neck of the Dojerang Pringapoes, and let the rest go right into
the ravine."

"Yes, Kandjeng toean--But--!"

"Well, but what?" asked Verstork, noticing the Loerah's hesitation.

"May not the animals," said the chief, "thus make their escape through
the eastern side of the ravine?"

"How so, Loerah?" said Verstork. "You have heard, I suppose, that
the people from Banjoe Pahit will occupy the whole of the eastern
side, and part even of the western side of the ravine? Very good,
now we understand each other I hope. We shall get on horseback at
once, and will post ourselves in the upper part of the pass, and,
if our instructions have been properly carried out, the whole of the
game must come that way. Now, just listen carefully to what I have
to tell you, Loerah."

"Yes, Kandjeng toean."

"As soon as we have got to the upper part of the ravine we shall fire
a shot."

"Shall we hear it, sir, right down at the bottom?"

"You are right, Loerah, quite right, it is a good distance--perhaps
too far--Well then, I will tell you what you must do. As soon as day
begins to break--but, mind you, before the sun has fairly risen--you
will set your beaters to work. But, whatever you do, take care that
the beasts have the road to the ravine left open to them."

"Yes, Kandjeng toean," was the invariable answer of the Loerah,
always spoken in the most respectful tone.

Then in the deepest silence the beaters betook themselves to their
posts while the European horsemen took the road to Banjoe Pahit.

As yet it was quite dark, so that the horses had to proceed at a very
slow walk. This very moderate pace was absolutely necessary, because
the road which they had to follow was a narrow path leading through
the flooded rice fields, and the slightest deviation might have led to
a highly unpleasant mud-bath. Presently, however, a faint streak of
light was beginning to show itself on the eastern horizon. At first
it was all but imperceptible, it seemed like a faint reflection of
the waning moonlight; but gradually it became broader and deeper,
then is began to spread a fiery glow over the eastern sky, and made
the stars, which were still brightly twinkling in the zenith, to pale
and fade away. The narrow path kept winding upwards; for Banjoe Pahit,
towards which the riders were making their way, lay on much higher
ground than Kaligaweh which was situated on the low foreshore. As
the dawning light grew clearer and brighter, the horsemen were able
to mend their pace, and soon the horses were going along at a good
sharp trot, impelled, in a measure, by the instinct which told them
that they were heading in the direction of their stables.

The upper end of the ravine was reached in good time, and the horsemen
dismounted and gave their beasts in charge of a couple of Javanese
servants who had come to meet them along with the body of beaters
from Banjoe Pahit to which Mokesuep also had joined himself. These
men at once took the horses home to the dessa.

It was not yet full daylight. The western sky was still a deep dark
blue; but in the East the dawn was clothing itself in all the brilliant
hues which herald the near approach of the perfect day. On all sides
trees and bushes grew in the wildest disorder, and in their branches
birds innumerable were piping and warbling, each, in his own way,
sending up his hymn of praise to the great Creator. Leaves, twigs,
boughs, flowers, and grass-blades, all were thickly covered with the
tiniest possible specks of dew; and, as the light gradually brightened
in the East, seemed bathed as it were in molten silver.

In spite of their impatience to begin their work upon the game,
our young friends could not help pausing for a few moments in order
to admire the magnificent spectacle before them, and to enjoy the
delightful freshness of that glorious time which immediately precedes
a sunrise; when suddenly, very far in the distance, was heard the
confused noise of a most frightful tumult.

"There they go!" cried Verstork, "those are our beaters, what a row
the fellows are making to be sure."

The natives were indeed hard at it, springing their rattles, banging
on bamboos, yelling and screaming in a manner which drowned every
other sound in nature, especially in that solemn morning hour when
the orb of day is just about to rise.

At first the noise was heard as a mere confused hum very far away
in the distance; but, as it gradually drew nearer and nearer, it
became so exciting that even poor van Nerekool, forgetting his woes
for a while, ran up and down clutching his rifle with trembling hand,
and some of his companions, more excited even than he was, had their
weapons at full cock, ready to open fire at a moment's notice.

"Now then, my friends," said Verstork, trying to calm down all this
unnecessary flurry; "pray keep quiet. We have plenty of time before
us. Please all keep cool, or we shall have some accident with those
firearms."

"Are we in a good position here?" asked Grashuis.

"We are standing too close together it strikes me," remarked van
Beneden.

"I intend to take you a little further into the ravine," said Verstork.

So they all advanced some fifty or hundred yards along a steep pathway
which ran winding down through shaggy bushes and rocky boulders. Just
by the side of that rugged path, the brook Banjoe Pahit began its
downward course along its bed of rocks. It was a wonderfully beautiful
little stream; its waters of the purest crystal went dancing from crag
to crag, forming, in one place, a pleasant little basin or pool, at
another tumbling down in foaming cataracts and splashing waterfalls,
then, suddenly and mysteriously, disappearing altogether for a while
amidst the wild shrubs and rugged boulders, and then a little further
on, springing up again to renew its brawling and wanton play. The
scene in the Djoerang Pringapoes was as wild and savage as possible,
but marvellously picturesque withal. When the party had clambered down
about a third part of the slope, the massive walls of rock which, up to
that point, completely hemmed in the entrance to the ravine and which
formed a kind of slit, suddenly ran back like the sides of a funnel,
while they continued grandly and majestically to tower up into the sky.

The bottom of the ravine, however, as well as its walls, bore abundant
evidence of great natural convulsions. Huge boulders were flung about
in it at random in all directions, the stems of the trees which grew
there were twisted and curled up into lumps and knots and were still
bearing tufts of withered grass and nests of dry branches; the smoothly
polished rocks also amply testified that when the north-east wind
opened the sluice gates of heaven and the water-floods came down in
torrents from the heights--the Banjoe Pahit could howl and roar along,
and form dreadful currents and whirlpools; and that, at such times,
it was well to keep out of the now quiet defile.

As the hunters were looking about them at the savage scene around,
the din made by the beaters was gradually coming nearer and nearer. It
was still a considerable way off and not a solitary head of game had
shown itself.

"I wonder how that is?" said August van Beneden. "I fancied that we
might have set to work shooting at once. May not our wild boars, if
there are any at all in this ravine, have got away by some other road?"

"No, no," replied Verstork, "the Djoerang Pringapoes is hemmed in on
almost all sides with perpendicular rocks, such as not even a wild
pig can climb. There are two or three spots where the walls are not
quite so steep, and which such animals might perhaps scale; but,
if the Loeras of Banjoe Pahit and of Kaligaweh have carried out my
instructions, these weak points have all been occupied by their men,
so that none of the animals can have got away by them. The beaters,
you see, with their abominable rattles are driving the pigs into the
ravine, and I know they will all make for it, especially as it is
their usual haunt."

"Aye, aye," said van Rheijn, "I see; but once in this ravine, depend
upon it they will lie very close, there is plenty of room here for
a game at hide and seek, and if they choose to get to cover, we may
stand here waiting for them till doomsday."

"That might be so," remarked Verstork with a smile, "if the beaters
would let them. But those fellows with their rattles will follow the
pigs into the ravine and drive them in our direction. You will see
how they will manage that presently. Just listen--what a row they
are kicking up yonder--one would think they were a pack of fiends!"

Verstork indeed might well say so; for your Javanese, under ordinary
circumstances cool and phlegmatic enough, can, on such occasions as
a boar-hunt, display activity and energy in abundance. Then he seems
almost beside himself; then he screams, he yells, he bellows, he
whistles, he hisses, he crows, he shrieks. Then he frantically plies
his rattle and, with any weapon he may happen to have in his hand,
he bangs upon anything and everything he comes across, on trunks of
trees, on stones--which, by the way, not unfrequently give out most
melodious sounds--on the sheath of his kris--undoubtedly he would bring
down a whack on the skull of his neighbour also were he suffered to
do so. And all this for the mere purpose of making a noise, the most
horrible din imaginable in order to drive the game, which by nature
is wild enough, into the direction which he wishes it to take.

"Now," said Verstork, "just a few paces further on and then we
come to the entrance of the Djoerang Ketjel where a small stream,
which we call the Karang Aleh, flows into the Banjoe Pahit. After the
junction the two streams flow together through the narrowest gorge of
the Pringapoes. Look there, you can see the split in the rocks just
ahead. You see we are bounded on all sides by sheer cliffs and the
game must pass through this defile to reach the upper part of the
ravine and get away."

"By Jove," cried van Rheijn, "this does not strike me as a very
pleasant spot, the place looks like a picture of universal ruin
and desolation."

Indeed it was a terrible scene. The ragged sides of the ravines,
consisting entirely of grey lava-rock, towered up perpendicularly into
the sky. Here and there, on the bare walls, a mass of stone seemed,
in its descent, to have stuck fast; and, in course of time, a little
soil had gathered on its surface. In this shallow layer of earth,
vegetation had immediately sprung up and formed there, as it were, a
little green island in the midst of the grey ocean of desolation. Huge
fragments of jagged stone lay scattered about in the wildest confusion,
and amidst these, many weird and unsightly plants grew and flourished,
such as the Sembong, the Kemanden Kerbo and the Oering aring with its
venomous prickles. There also were seen the gnarled and twisted stems
of the Djatie doerie and of the Siwallan. These stunted trees raised
their poor meagre crowns out of the sea of stone, and, by arresting
the progress of the débris which the water-flood whirled along,
served to block up the pass still more effectually.

"Now then, my friends," said Verstork, "let us divide--we are standing
here much too close together. Van Nerekool, the Wedono, and myself will
take our stand here just opposite this narrow pass. You, Leendert,
go with August to the top of that piece of rock which you see yonder
to the right. You Theodoor and Frits take up your position on that
broken ground on the slope. From those points you will have the gorge
completely under your fire, and--if you really are as good shots as
you are supposed to be--why then not a solitary pig ought to escape
us. But make haste, get into your places--the beaters seem to be
getting quite close."

It was indeed high time; for every instant the infernal din was
coming nearer and growing more distinct. It was, in fact, becoming
positively deafening. It sounded as if a veritable Pandemonium had
broken loose. Grenits made a very wry face when he found that Mokesuep
was to be his companion; but he had no chance of remonstrance at thus
being saddled with a most uncongenial companion, for he had to get
to his post without delay.

The positions which the guns were to occupy had been admirably chosen
and showed a perfect knowledge both of the game and of the ground. The
marksmen were all posted in full view of one another, so that there
could be no risk of accident, at the same time their fire commanded
the narrow opening of the ravine which lay open before them. Moreover
they were all directed to take their stand upon spots slightly elevated
above the level of the soil and were thus, to a great extent, out of
the reach of the fearful tusks of the infuriated animals. Thus then
they stood, most eagerly watching; but, though the entrance to the
Djoerang lay perfectly open before them with here and there a few
stunted shrubs much too low and small to conceal even the smallest
pig, not a vestige of any animal could be seen. This suspense seemed
intolerably long to the impatient and impulsive Europeans who were
far from being endowed with the calm phlegmatic temperament of the
natives. The Wedono stood there quiet and motionless as a statue.

"I can see nothing whatever," shouted August van Beneden to his
friend, making use of his hands as a speaking-trumpet. "I fancy our
good dessa-folk have taken it easy and have allowed the game to slip
away quietly to the right or left."

"It is my opinion that the ravine is empty," remarked van Nerekool,
to whom this long inaction was more irksome than even to the others.

Verstork interpreted van Beneden's words to the Wedono who, rifle
in hand, was standing by his side, and asked him if he thought it
possible.

"It may be,--but--perhaps it is not so," was the chiefs cautious reply.

Still they waited, and waited--the din of the beaters was approaching
with every moment and their yells became more distinct. A few minutes
more would decide the question whether there was any game in the
ravine or not, for a very short time would bring the beaters to the
mouth of the opening.

Verstork was getting quite nervous with impatience, jokes were
beginning to pass pretty freely among his friends, and although
they were perfectly good-humoured jests and showed not the slightest
ill-will towards him, yet they were not pleasant to listen to. Mokesuep
was the only one who, in a singularly offensive tone, cried out:

"I say, Controller, I hope all that pork we are going to kill won't
disagree with us!"--

"Hold your tongue, wretched Muizenkop," said Theodoor Grenits. "You
always find some nasty thing to say!"

"That's all very fine," replied Mokesuep, "I can tell you I am getting
beastly tired of standing here. A lot of fellows invited for a day's
shooting, when there is nothing to shoot at!"

"The pigs were here all right enough," said Grenits, "you may depend
upon that; I don't suppose you can blame Verstork if the beaters have
allowed them to escape!"

Mokesuep was on the point of making some ill-natured rejoinder when
Bang! Bang! Bang! went three rifle shots and interrupted his sneering
remarks.

They were the rifles of Verstork, of van Nerekool and of the
Wedono. These three were posted at the very mouth of the ravine,
and had suddenly caught sight of a greyish indistinct mass of living
things rushing towards the opening. Quick as thought, the three had
thrown their rifles up to their shoulders and had opened fire upon
the advancing herd of swine. The other hunters had, as yet, seen
nothing. The rattling and yelling of the beaters seemed to redouble
in intensity the moment they heard the first shots fired, and almost
drowned the discordant grunts and groans of the pigs as they pressed
into the narrow defile. From that moment however, all doubts as to
the issue of the day's sport were at an end.

The three first rifle shots had bowled over the three foremost animals,
one of which was a boar of gigantic size, and for a moment stopped
the rush of the entire herd. The wounded animals lay on the ground,
struggling and fighting, uttering fearful squeaks and striking out
right and left with their formidable tusks at those who came behind,
thus almost wholly blocking up the narrow opening. That lasted however
only for a moment or two, for the noise of the beaters drove the
creatures to such a pitch of fury that, in spite of all opposition,
they rushed over the bodies of their fallen leaders. But the three
men who had first opened fire, had, in those few moments, had time to
reload, and an instant after, all the others posted to the right and
left caught sight of the game and at once opened fire upon the dense
struggling mass of pigs, hardly a single shot being lost. Thereupon a
scene of the direst confusion ensued. The wounded animals tumbled over
one another uttering groans and squeaks which baffle description. The
hindmost ones, still urged on by the terrific noise of the beaters,
fought and pushed their way to the front. The sows grimly defended
their young and seemed to vent their fury upon the carcases of the
dead and wounded, and, in that terrific melée, the bullets of the
seven hunters kept plunging with the deadliest effect. The rifled
breech-loaders poured shot after shot into the densely packed mass,
and every moment the narrow gap became more and more impassible.

That went on for the space of about three minutes, during which the
breech-loaders plied their unerring fire.

Presently van Nerekool said to Verstork: "Are we not running the risk
of hitting some of the men in the rear?"

"Oh, no," replied Verstork, "if they have followed my instructions
there is no danger whatever. A few yards lower down there is a sharp
elbow in the ravine, so that if one of our bullets should happen to
miss or to pass through the body of one of these beasts it must bury
itself in the walls of rock. You hear--according to agreement, the
fellows have already stopped their noise--they are not at all anxious
to come to close quarters and to expose themselves to a stray bullet."

Meanwhile the fire had been kept up with hardly any cessation and with
almost the same fatal effect. The grunting herd still was striving to
push onward and to get clear of the deadly pass, and again and again
the bullets knocked down the foremost, who in their death-struggle,
dealt ripping blows all around.

But at length, after having for a while wallowed about hopelessly, a
small remnant which still remained unwounded, suddenly headed round,
led on by a huge black-coloured boar, and now no longer awed by the
beaters, made a headlong charge back into the ravine from which they
found it impossible to escape.








CHAPTER XVIII.

ENTRAPPED.


"Hurrah! they have turned tail, they are making off!" exclaimed
Mokesuep.

That hero had all the while been trembling with fear; he had been in
mortal terror lest the pigs should break through the line of fire;
for if they had succeeded in doing so, a close struggle with the
sword bayonet would probably have ensued. Therefore he had most
anxiously been peering about to see if he could discover any way of
retreat up the steep mountain sides. If, during that morning there
had been shots fired which had flown wide of the mark, such misses
had been due to his shaking hand. Indeed, some of his bullets had
gone right over the wall of rock which hemmed in the ravine on all
sides; but most fortunately had not injured any of the Javanese who
were beating on the other side. The unpleasant whistling, however,
of the projectiles from Mokesuep's rifle had scared the natives,
and it was in a measure owing to those stray shots that the beaters
had given up the battue rather sooner than they ought to have done.

Grenits was in a rage. "What are you hurrahing about," cried he to
Mokesuep, "you were never born to be a Nimrod, that's plain enough!"

"Well," stammered the coward, whose lips were still white with fear;
"it is all right, is it not?"

"All right!" cried Grenits, "no, it's all wrong. Don't you see that
the remnant of the herd will get clear away? Come! forward! They are
getting away, I tell you, we must get after them and not let a single
head escape! Forward, boys, forward!"

The other young men, who were just as much vexed as was Grenits
at the unsatisfactory result of their hunt, rushed into the pass
together rifle in hand. Mokesuep only, very prudently remained behind,
not even could the Wedono get him to follow by crying out to him,
"Come! quick, sir." Our hero merely shook his head and stood looking
after his companions until they disappeared out of his sight. Then
throwing his rifle over his shoulder he took the road to Banjoe Pahit
as he muttered to himself:

"No doubt, that's all very well; but I shall take precious good care
not to come into contact with that filthy vermin. No, no, I shall go
and have a chat with the wife of Verstork's cook--who knows what I may
manage to do in that quarter! A nice little woman that! A devilish
sly dog that Controller; what fun if I could get some shooting over
his preserves!"

Thus mumbling to himself he walked along and had gained the upper
entrance to the Djoerang Pringapoes. From that eminence he could
command a fine extensive view over the broad rice-fields which rose in
terraces on the hill-slopes, and whose surfaces, flooded with water
at that time of the year, lay glistening in the bright sunshine like
so many polished mirrors. It was as yet very early--scarcely half
past seven o'clock. Mokesuep stood there looking all around him,
not indeed in admiration of the beauties of nature; for a creature
of his stamp could have no eye for that kind of thing; but gazing
about anxiously and more than half frightened at the silence and
solitude in which he now found himself after the riot and confusion
down in the ravine. In the far distance he could still distinguish
the shouts of the hunters and could now and then hear a shot fired by
them at the retreating game; but the noise of the hunt grew fainter and
fainter, and as it gradually died away in the depths of the Djoerang,
not another sound was heard round about. This sudden stillness had
something very disquieting about it. Mokesuep half wished that some
human being would appear to share the solitude with him, and yet,
on the other hand, he was wholly afraid of meeting with some of
the natives. He had heard dreadful tales of the robbers by which
some of the inland parts of Java were infested and rendered unsafe;
and though he had a rifle slung from his shoulder which might have
inspired any other man with confidence, he was of far too cowardly
a nature to put any trust in his weapon. He stepped along slowly
and cautiously, and presently, at the foot of a small range of hills
lying to the northward and which formed a continuation of the chain of
mountains in which the Djoerang Pringapoes was situated, he discovered
a solitary hut, partly hidden away in the thick underwood which grew
around it. Close by a couple of oxen were grazing by the side of a
pathway. This little road ran past the hut to the north-west, and
winded along the low dykes of the rice-fields. As Mokesuep traced the
pathway in its course over the hill-slopes, he suddenly perceived a
human figure evidently making for the hut. It was the form of a woman,
of that there could be no doubt. Mokesuep breathed freely again; in
the presence of a woman, especially if that woman happened to "be a
native, he felt brave enough; so he determined to wait for her, to
try and enter into conversation and to walk pleasantly and sociably
together to Banjoe Pahit. The approaching form, standing out boldly
over the flooded rice-fields and reflected in their shining surface
grew more and more distinct with every moment.

"By Jove," muttered Mokesuep, after having watched her for awhile,
"by Jove, what a pretty girl! All the better for me--I shall have a
charming walk with that dear little thing!"

He was, however, altogether out in his reckoning. When the girl got
close to the hut, she took a side path which ran in a south-easterly
direction downwards amongst the rice-terraces, and which appeared to
lead to Kaligaweh. Great was Mokesuep's disappointment at seeing this,
and he was about to call out to her. Just then a Javanese came out
of the hut and began beckoning to the girl.

"By heaven!" muttered Mokesuep, "that is Singomengolo, the opium
spy. What in the world is he doing here?" And immediately he concealed
himself behind some bushes which were growing by the wayside.

It was indeed Singomengolo, the wretch whom the evening before we
saw leaving Kaligaweh and riding to the lonely hut. Again and again,
he beckoned to the girl; but as she did not heed him, he cried out:

"Dalima!"

At this call the girl turned for an instant. Yes, it was pretty
little Dalima, the baboe in the family of Mrs. van Gulpendam. She
stopped for a moment, while her features showed undisguised terror
as she recognised the notorious opium-hunter, whom she knew well by
sight. She did not, however, stop for more than a single instant,
and then sped on again as fast as she could.

"Dalima!" again cried Singomengolo, "Dalima, where are you hurrying
to?"

"I am going to Kaligaweh," said the girl in a nervous tone of voice.

"Well, just come here for a moment," continued Singo.

"No, no," she replied, "I have not an instant to spare, I must get to
my father as quickly as I possibly can," and again she sped on her way.

"Come here, I say," cried Singomengolo, "I have something to tell
you about your father!"

"Oh, yes, I know," rejoined the young girl, "they told me father is
very ill--that is why I am in such a hurry."

"You are wrong," cried Singo, "your father is not ill--it is something
much worse than that."

The girl stopped at once: "Worse than that?" she asked, "tell me,
is he dead?"

"No--much worse!"

"By Allah--what is it?"

"Come here," said Singo, "and I will tell you. There are things,
you know, that one cannot shout out by the wayside."

This brought Dalima to his side. As she walked up to him, she had to
pass the bushes behind which Mokesuep was lying concealed--in fact,
in passing she brushed by them. As usual Dalima was very neatly
dressed. Round her waist she wore a gaily coloured sarong, her bodice
was of pink cotton, and over her shoulders was folded a red kerchief,
from one of the points of which dangled a bunch of keys.

She had a double melattie flower in her thick heavy tresses, which,
in the midst of that ebon-black mass of hair, looked like a pretty
white rose. Just then her face was covered with a rich flush caused
partly by the exertion of her long walk, partly by the pleasant
coolness of the morning air; but this rich colour added animation
to her pretty features, and blended most harmoniously with the deep
bronze of her complexion.

The experienced eye of the concealed fiscal functionary did not allow a
single one of these charms to escape it. Yes, there were certain cases
in which Mokesuep was by no means insensible to the beautiful, though
its contemplation generally awakened evil passions in his breast;
and not unfrequently led to criminal designs. What might have happened
had he walked alone with Dalima to Banjoe Pahit, who can tell. For the
present the appearance of Singomengolo forced him to remain in hiding.

When the girl had come close to the hut, she asked again: "What is
the matter? tell me!"

"Come in with me," replied the opium-spy, "and I will let you know
why your father has been taken into custody."

As he said these words, Dalima suddenly uttered a loud
shriek. Singomengolo thought, of course, that the news he had told
her and his rough manner of conveying it, had wrung that cry from the
young girl; but Dalima had turned round abruptly and was trying to
run away as fast as her feet would carry her. The fact is, she had,
through the half open door of the hut seen the odious face of Lim Ho
gazing at her with eyes dilated with passion. That sight made the poor
girl turn and dart away; but she had hardly gone a few yards before
Singomengolo overtook her, and grasping her wrists, tried, by main
force, to drag her along with him into the hut. Dalima resisted with
all her might. She screamed for help, she kicked at her captor and
tried to bite the hands with which he held her arms tightly clasped. In
fact she fought as desperately as a wild cat, determined to resist
and defend herself to the very last. She was in hopes also that her
cries might possibly be heard, for she was under the impression that
just now she had seen a European on the pathway which crossed the road
she was taking. Any other man but Mokesuep would have flown to the
rescue of the poor child; who knows to what excess of heroism even
he might have allowed himself to be carried--not indeed out of any
feeling of kindly sympathy or from any chivalrous promptings; but in
the hope of perhaps--Yes--in such a mind as his the foulest thoughts
will spring even as venomous toad-stools on an unclean soil. But--he
also had caught sight of Lim Ho--he had noticed that face burning
with ignoble passion. At a glance he understood what was going on,
and, at the same time, he resolved to keep perfectly quiet in order
that he might reap the fullest advantage out of the situation.

Lim Ho's father was an enormously wealthy man, and when the safety
or reputation of his son was concerned he would not mind coming down
handsomely--a couple of thousand guilders or so were nothing to a
man of that kind.

Poor little Dalima! In utter despair she had flung herself to the
ground, most heartrending were her shrieks of agony, help! help! but
it was all in vain. The mean wretch who might, by merely raising his
hand so to speak, have set her free, kept himself snugly concealed. He
looked upon the struggle with cynical eye, nay was actually gloating
with satisfaction at the glimpses which now and then he caught of
the charms, which, in the violence of her resistance, Dalima could
not always keep concealed. This went on for some little time, and
Singomengolo began to feel that it was impossible for him to drag
her along any further without assistance from Lim Ho. He called to
the Chinaman to come to his aid. The latter at once obeyed the call,
came out of the hut, and tried to clasp the girl in his arms and thus
carry her along. But when, in that attempt, he got a very painful
bite in the ear, the wretch became mad with fury. He laid hold of the
mass of hair which in the struggle had become loosened, and was now
quite unrolled, and twisting his hand into the heavy tresses while
Singomengolo still held the girl's wrists, he dragged her by main
force into the hut. For a considerable time after that the fearful
shrieks "Help! help! toean!" were still heard; but gradually they
grew fainter and fainter until at length they ceased altogether. In
the very far distance rifle shots still resounded; but even if Dalima
could have heard them in the excitement of the struggle, she must have
understood that her voice could not possibly reach so far, and that,
in any case, if help did come, it must come too late.

How did Dalima happen to be on the fatal spot at that early hour?

The reader may remember how that, after having accomplished his heroic
deed in the dessa Kaligaweh, Singomengolo had ridden away and had
taken the direction of the lonely hut in the hill-country; and how,
on his arrival, he had sent the man who lived there as his messenger
to Santjoemeh. This man had two commissions to execute. In the first
place he was told to go and give into Lim Ho's own hands a little
note with which Singo had entrusted him, and, after having done that,
he was to call at the Residence and was to tell baboe Dalima that her
father Setrosmito had suddenly been taken dangerously ill and that
he was most anxious to see her. The messenger, who was a very shrewd
and clever fellow, had at once jumped on the back of one of those
small and ugly, but well-nigh indefatigable Javanese ponies, whose
muscles of steel seem never to tire and carry them in a surprisingly
short space of time over vast distances. It was about eleven o'clock
when he reached the stately mansion of babah Lim Yang Bing. He was
very lucky, for he was not kept waiting a single instant, as Lim Ho
happened to be within at the time. The son of the rich opium farmer lay
reclining luxuriously upon a splendid divan, his long Chinese pipestem
was between his lips and by his side on a small table stood a cup of
arrack. He was listening in a kind of rapture to two of his servants,
who, like himself, were children of the Celestial Empire. These fellows
seated on low ivory stools were twanging on a kind of two-stringed
fiddle or guitar, and were drawing tones out of their instruments which
would not only have horrified a Vieuxtemps or a Paganini, but would
have instantly dispersed even a meeting of tom-cats who, in the matter
of harmony, are not usually reckoned to be exacting. Lim Ho no sooner
caught sight of Singomengolo's emissary, than he jumped up from the
couch, grasped the letter which the man held out to him, and eagerly
scanned the very few words it contained. It was a document brief and
laconic as a telegram but, to Lim Ho, of the deepest significance. The
words it contained were only these: "Everything ready, be here by
seven in the morning." The Chinaman pulled out his watch, he looked
at the time while he asked the messenger what the weather was like.

"Bright moonlight, babah," was the man's reply.

Lim Ho then dismissed him, flinging him a rix-dollar, and telling him
to be specially careful how he discharged his second commission. He
ordered him to come and report the result to him, then he ordered
his horse to be saddled and waited.

The man did not find his second task quite such an easy one to perform
as the former. The Resident van Gulpendam and his wife were seated
with some visitors at the usual card-tables; but the daughter of the
house had already retired to her own room, and had given her baboe
leave to go to bed without waiting up any longer. The fellow found it
therefore necessary to go to the back of the premises, and at length
he contrived to get one of the servants to go and rouse Dalima.

The young girl was terribly shocked at hearing the dreadful tidings of
her father, whom the rascal represented as being in a dying state. She
at once rushed into the pandoppo and entered the bedroom of her young
mistress who, fortunately, had not yet retired to rest.

"Nana, give me leave!" she cried, in the greatest agitation, as soon
as she had opened the door.

"Come," said Anna, "what is the matter with you? do try and be
calm." The young lady had perceived at once that there was something
very wrong, and tried to quiet her servant's excitement by herself
remaining perfectly cool and self-possessed.

Thereupon Dalima told her that a man had just arrived from Kaligaweh
with a message from her father who was lying at death's door, and
who wished, for the last time perhaps, to see his daughter.

"Oh, Nana," begged the poor girl, "do try and get me leave to go home!"

"But, Dalima," objected Anna, "what is the time?" And looking at a
handsome clock on a console close by, she continued, "Why it is close
upon midnight!--It is out of the question--You could not possibly go
out in the dark!"

"Oh!" cried Dalima, in pleading tones, "Nana knows that I am very
brave. I know the way perfectly. I shall take the short cut over the
hills; by that road I shall get to Kaligaweh without meeting anybody."

"That is just it," rejoined Anna; "it is that very solitude that I
am most frightened at. You might come across a tiger or a wild boar."

"Why, Nana! there are no tigers anywhere in the neighbourhood; if
there were we must have heard of them, and as for boars, I am not
the least bit afraid of them, they always run away if they possibly
can. Do pray, dearest Nana, get me leave to go. I promise you that
by to-morrow night I shall be back again."

"I don't at all like the idea of it, Dalima. What will mamma say?"

"Oh, Nana dear," cried the baboe, in despair, "do pray go and try--do
pray go and ask madam!"

"She is quite sure to refuse," said Anna.

"Why should she?" persisted the girl.

"She will be just as much afraid as I am that in the darkness of the
night some accident may happen to you. How can you possibly dare to
undertake such a journey, Dalima?"

"My father is dying--he wants to see me!" cried Dalima. "That is
quite enough to give me courage for anything, Miss Anna. I would go
to Kaligaweh even if I knew that the road was full of ghosts--yes, if
there were a ghost behind every tree! Yet, I am much more frightened
of ghosts than of beasts or of men. Nana, I beg and pray--do go and
ask your mother!"

"Well," said the tender-hearted young girl, "I will go and try;
but mind you, I know it will not be of the slightest use."

"Thank you, Nana, thank you."

Thereupon Miss Anna rose from the divan upon which she had taken
a seat after she had admitted Dalima. She thrust her dainty little
feet into a pair of slippers she had carelessly thrown off. The young
girl was already partially undressed, and had been reclining in only
her sarong and kabaai; but she very soon threw about her a richly
embroidered morning gown, with a few turns of her dexterous hand she
twisted the rich mass of her loose-hanging hair into a knot, and ran
to the front-gallery in which her parents and the other card-players
were still engaged in their game.

To her great surprise fair Laurentia made no difficulty at all, and
at once acceded to her daughter's request, stipulating only that,
before setting out, Dalima should finish some needle-work which she
had given her to do and which she particularly wished to have ready
by the morning.

Oh, no! Mrs. van Gulpendam had no objection whatever to Dalima's going
to Kaligaweh; on the contrary, she thought it very praiseworthy in the
girl that she showed so much devotion to her parents. A honey-sweet
smile hovered on her lips as she gave her gracious permission, and no
one--least of all her pure and innocent daughter--could have guessed
at the awful abyss of wickedness which lurked behind that sunny smile.

Highly pleased with the result of her attempt, Anna hastened with
her good news to Dalima, and in the kindness of her heart she gave
up a considerable portion of her night's rest to assist her baboe in
getting through her task of needle-work.

It is a dreadful thing to have to say; but Laurentia had not made that
stipulation about finishing the work without an object. Her object
was to delay Dalima's departure, so that she might not reach the hut
in the middle of the night, and, in the darkness, perhaps pass it
unobserved. Diligently assisted by her mistress, the baboe was able
to set out on her journey about three o'clock in the morning. After
having affectionately taken leave, Dalima left the premises by the
back-way through a small garden gate, of which Anna had procured her
the key. This gate took her straight into the road which led over the
hills to Kaligaweh. The moon was shining brightly in the heavens, and
thus the girl was able to walk along rapidly, and soon she lost sight
of Santjoemeh while not a single thought of danger crossed her brain.

Lim Ho had been informed by Singomengolo's messenger that the pretty
baboe had received the news of her father's illness--the reader however
knows that a far different calamity had befallen Setrosmito--so he
said in a highly satisfied tone:

"That is all right. You must be tired out, and I don't suppose you
care to return to your hut to-night? Eh?"

"No, babah," was the man's answer.

"Very well, my people will show you a bedroom, you can go and have
a rest. To-morrow I will pay you for your service."

As soon as the fellow had disappeared, Lim Ho consulted his watch.

"Nearly one o'clock," he muttered to himself, and then aloud he added:

"Than Loa, is the horse ready saddled?"

The servant replied with a couple of Chinese words, whereupon Lim
Ho rose. He put on a kind of cap without peak, in shape not at all
unlike a Scotch bonnet, then he snatched up a riding-whip and leaped
into the saddle.

"Don't go to sleep--keep good watch--mind," he cried to his servant as
he rode off, and setting spurs to his horse he was soon out of sight.

The main road which he took was a much longer one than the narrow
foot-path which Dalima had chosen; but by starting thus early he knew
he could easily get before her. He did not know that before she could
set off to her father's bedside the poor girl would have a good deal
of sewing to do, and he thought therefore that he had to hurry in
order to be in time at the hut. But his horse was a fine animal of
Persian breed, and he felt confident that it would bring him to the
spot before Dalima could possibly reach it.

It was about half-past three when he dismounted and joined
Singomengolo, whom he found waiting for him.

The pair of villains sat down to consult about the best way of
carrying out their infamous attempt. During this consultation Lim
Ho repeatedly showed signs of impatience at Dalima's unexpected
delay. They were still talking together when the day began to dawn,
and presently the sun rose, when, of a sudden, a dreadful outburst was
heard in the far distance--a noise was heard of yelling, of rattling,
of banging--it seemed as if the world was coming to an end. Lim Ho
started up in terror from the mat upon which he was seated by the
side of the opium spy.

"What on earth may that be?" he cried.

"Oh," replied Singomengolo as calmly as possible, "that is nothing at
all--only the toean Controller of Banjoe Pahit going on a pig-hunt--the
dessa folk of that place and of Kaligaweh are beginning to beat up
the game."

"How do you know that?" asked Lim Ho.

"I was at Kaligaweh yesterday, and there I met the Controller and the
company he has with him; they came to make the necessary arrangements
for the day's hunting."

"You were at Kaligaweh?" asked Lim Ho.

"Of course I was, babah," replied Singo quietly. "I was there,"
he continued with a nasty smirk, "to catch old Setrosmito at
opium-smuggling."

"Aye, aye," said Lim Ho, "that's true, I know now."

Lim Ho pronounced these words in a tone of voice which showed that
to him the infamous plot whereby a victim had been removed out of his
father's way, was the most trifling incident in the world, a bagatelle
which had wholly escaped his memory.

"And did you succeed in finding opium?"

"Of course I did," replied Singomengolo, "you know well enough, babah,
that I always succeed when it suits me to try."

"Yes, yes," said Lim Ho in a patronising way, "you are a clever fellow,
there is no doubt about that. Dalima's father has, I suppose, been
got rid of at least for a few weeks?"

"Yes, for a longer time than a few weeks," replied Singo very
significantly.

"How so? Has anything else happened then?"

"Setrosmito has run amokh and has killed a countryman of yours
outright, and severely wounded a policeman. It was precious nearly
all up with me too; but I managed to slip away from him in the very
nick of time."

"Good! good!" said Lim Ho, gleefully rubbing his hands together. "So
that?" he continued.

"So that," remarked Singomengolo, "Dalima's father, if they don't
hang him, will be at the very least imprisoned for life."

"You know," said Lim Ho, "that was wonderfully cleverly managed. But
what's up now?"

In the distance a well sustained rifle-fire was heard, in fact the
chase had begun.

"It is only the gentlemen in the Djoerang Pringapoes. They are firing
at the wild-pigs I suppose. Allah prosper them!"

"But," said Lim Ho, "may not those white fellows get into our way,
the ravine, you know, is not so very far off."

"The toeans," said Singo, "are a great deal too much engrossed in
their sport to take any notice of what we are about. For myself, I much
prefer to hear them blazing away yonder to their heart's content in the
Djoerang Pringapoes, than to know that they are sitting quill-driving
in their offices. Your white man with a pen in his hand is a much
more formidable creature, and is much more formidably armed too,
than when he handles a rifle."

Thus they sat talking and listening to what was going on beneath them
in the Djoerang, while time was rapidly passing away.

"But Dalima does not seem to be coming," signed Lim Ho, with
impatience.

"Yes, she is," said Singo, "yonder on that path between the rice-fields
I see some one--that must be she."

"Look, look!" cried Lim Ho, in consternation, "there from the ravine
comes a white man--now we have lost our chance."

Singomengolo turned his eyes in the direction which Lim Ho indicated,
and, as he looked, he muttered a deep curse; he saw at once that the
Chinaman had not been mistaken. Yet, he could not make out at all
who it could be so quietly making his way towards the hut. He was
one of the shooting party, there could be no doubt about that, for he
carried a rifle and came from the direction of the Djoerang. And that
wretched mar-plot must come right across Dalima's path, just as she
was coming in the other direction! Everything had been so carefully
planned--and now--that brute! It was enough to drive a fellow mad! But
the next moment Lim Ho cried out joyously:

"By Jove, it is toean Mouse-head that is coming along there. I know
him perfectly well. Now I don't mind a bit. I know him. You may call
the baboe as much as you like, there is no danger. I will square
matters easily enough with that fellow yonder!"

Lim Ho had recognised our friend Mokesuep. As the reader has been told,
that gentleman used familiarly to be called by almost everyone in
Santjoemeh, "Muizenkop," and this nickname some wags had translated
into Javanese. Thus he went by the name of Kapala tikoes, or the
Mouse-head. Singomengolo also recognised the exciseman of Santjoemeh,
and now he no longer felt much apprehension that his detestable plot
would be frustrated.

"A mere matter of money," said he to the Chinaman, with a significant
smile.

As Dalima came to the crossway, and was about to enter the path
which ran down to Kaligaweh, the opium-spy had left the hut, and was
preparing to call to her to stop, when he saw the European hastily
conceal himself behind the clump of bushes by the roadside. This
move on the part of Mokesuep completely reassured the accomplices,
and their wicked plot was crowned with the success with which the
reader has already been made acquainted.

Even had Mokesuep felt any inclination to present himself in the
character of rescuer, that impulse was wholly extinguished the moment
Lim Ho appeared upon the scene. The wretched coward only hid himself
more closely behind his screen of leaves as he muttered:

"By Jove, dame Fortune is playing into my hand--no one but an ass
would refuse so fair an offer."

Meanwhile the despairing cries of poor little Dalima were gradually
dying away as her strength began to fail, and as she became utterly
exhausted.

"Help, help! toean, help!" was the last piercing shriek which re-echoed
in that solitude. The only response, alas! was the well-sustained
rifle-fire in the distance.








CHAPTER XIX.

HELP! HELP!


But yet, poor Dalima's shrieks and wild cries for help had been heard.

That part of the mountain cleft, into which the hunters had plunged
in pursuit of the retreating wild boars, did not extend very far,
it was not longer than about a thousand yards; but the bottom of
the ravine was just there exceedingly winding, and, as it followed
the tortuous course of the small stream Banjoe Pahit, it was strewn
all over with huge fragments of stone, while the dark-grey walls of
volcanic trachyte towered up almost perpendicularly to the height of
more than fifty or sixty yards.

In that narrow pass the scene of confusion was utterly
indescribable. The grunting and squealing of the maddened herd of
swine, the yelling and rattling of the beaters who, on seeing the
animals charge back, had resumed their unearthly noise, the almost
incessant crashing of the fire from the breech-loading rifles--all
these sounds, echoing and re-echoing within that narrow rock-bound
gorge, made a din which was absolutely deafening.

The hunted animals now desperate and infuriated, madly charged at
the line of native beaters, who seemed to them less formidable than
their European foes. For a few moments the dessa folk attempted
to make a stand, and thrusting about furiously with their lances,
they made some ineffectual efforts to turn the beasts back again
into the ravine. But they very soon had to give way before the
charge of the formidable tusks, and took to their heels altogether
as soon as the rifle bullets began to screech over their heads. Those
cylindero-conical projectiles from the new-fashioned rifles make such
a horrid screaming as they speed overhead on their deadly errand,
that it is no wonder they demoralised the poor natives altogether. In
less than no time the line of beaters had vanished before the charge
of the boars, as the mountain mist before the morning sun. The greater
part of the Javanese managed to swarm up the high rocky peaks, others
darted up the trees; but not a single one ventured to remain within
reach of the sharp tusks of the wild boars.

The animals were however greatly diminished in numbers and not very
many of them succeeded, under the incessant rifle-fire, in getting
clear of the pass. Upward of fifteen carcases lay stretched motionless
on the ground; but a far greater number had received wounds more or
less severe; which, however, in that climate were sure to prove fatal.

"Forward, boys, forward!" cried Verstork, excited by the success they
had gained; "forward, we must not let a single one of that mischievous
brood escape!"

That, however, was much more easily said than done. The hunters
continued to press the retreating game, and contrived to fire many a
shot and to bring down many a victim; but the pigs were uncommonly
fleet of foot and now that the chain of beaters was broken and
there was nothing to stop them, they were soon lost to sight amid
the inextricable tangle of shrubs, tree-trunks, and boulders which
encumbered the bottom of the ravine. Our European friends did their
very utmost to keep up with the game; but it was a task which would
have required nothing less than the nimbleness and dexterity of an
orang-outang to accomplish, perhaps even that animal might have had
to give up the pursuit.

Yes, there they stood at length, dead beat, their clothes in tatters,
their hands torn by the thorns through which in the heat of the
excitement they had forced their way, in one word, completely pumped
out and exhausted, there they stood panting and gasping for breath. At
length Verstork managed somewhat to recover his wind, and shouted to
his friends to rally them.

"Where is Grashuis?" asked the Controller, looking around him.

"And where is Grenits?" van Rheijn managed to gasp out.

They were nowhere to be seen, and their friends were beginning to
feel anxious about them, when a couple of rifle-shots in the distance
informed the hunters that the two missing men were still obstinately
bent on continuing the pursuit.

"That will never do," said Verstork, "we must go after them,
one can never tell what may happen and what need there may be of
assistance. But," continued he, "can any of you tell me where the
shots came from?"

Every hand was raised at once; but they unfortunately all pointed
in different directions. Had there been hands enough they would,
no doubt, have indicated every point in the compass.

"There," said one.

"No, no, there," cried another.

"You are wrong," said a third, "they came from this side."

"That's a confounded nuisance," said Verstork much perplexed, "the
shots took me quite by surprise and I really don't know from what
direction they came. We must wait a bit, perhaps they will fire again."

"I am precious glad of it," said van Beneden, "now we can sit down
and rest a bit on that rock yonder. I am regularly fagged out."

He had not, however, a very long rest, for barely ten minutes had
elapsed before another shot was heard, and this was followed almost
immediately after by a second discharge. This time the reports were
evidently further off than before; but there was no mistake about
the direction from whence they came.

"Come gentlemen," cried Verstork, as he snatched up his rifle again,
"come, gentlemen, this way!"

"Might we not wait a few minutes longer?" pleaded van Beneden,
"I am dead tired."

"Meanwhile," said the Wedono, as he pointed to the smooth trunk of
a komessoe tree, "I shall get up into that tree. Perhaps I may catch
sight of them."

The Javanese dessa-chief was a nimble young fellow, and using his
hands and feet he soon was in the top.

"Can you see anything, Wedono?" cried Verstork.

"No, nothing yet, kandjeng toean," was the man's reply. "But--wait
a bit--Yes, there they are yonder--both of them. They are clambering
along the side of the ravine still after the pigs. But it is a good
way off!"

"Come, gentlemen," said the Controller, "it won't do to sit here,
we must be off at once, we must try and get up to them."

Meanwhile Leendert Grashuis and Theodoor Grenits had been running on
ahead and were pursuing with the indomitable energy and hot enthusiasm
of youth, a small family of pigs consisting of one gigantic boar,
a sow and four young ones.

Helter skelter they rushed on, pursuers and pursued, over and under
rocks, over and right through thorny bushes, sometimes by the side
of the small stream, sometimes in the water in which the animals
would plunge and disappear for a moment in the whirling eddies, and
then reappear again vigorously swimming and struggling. Now and then,
as the beasts were scrambling up the face of a rock, the two hunters
would catch a momentary glimpse of their prey. Then they would try
to steady themselves in order to get a fair shot; but before they
could pull the trigger, the beasts had again disappeared among the
stones and bushes, and then after them again in spite of the heat
and fatigue. This continued for a while until the old boar led his
party up the steep slope of the ravine wall, evidently with the view
of gaining the open field at the top along which they could fly with
greater speed. But, alas for them! that move on the part of their
leader gave the rifles fair play. As soon as the animals began to
ascend they became visible among the stunted grass which grew on
the slope, and two shots resounded almost simultaneously. One of
the little ones, mortally wounded, rolled down the slope and the old
sow flew madly to its assistance. But the pains the poor animal took
to get its young on its legs again and to push it along were all in
vain, her instinct seemed to tell her that she must hurry back along
with the others in order to escape from the deadly bullets. A moment
or two afterwards, another young one lost its footing and began to
stumble down the slope. The mother was on the spot again and trying
to help it along. It was a touching sight indeed to see that mother
defending and taking care of her little one, to see how she strove to
push it along very gently yet very strongly too with her pointed snout,
uttering the while the most loving and encouraging grunts. But hunters
have no bowels of mercy. Scarcely had the pair proceeded a few yards
before the two rifles cracked again, and sow and young one rolled
to the very bottom of the ravine. As she fell she glared defiance at
her enemies, while she kept her eye still fixed on her offspring and
uttered a sharp squeal of warning to her mate above. At that moment
a third shot was fired and the third little pig came rolling down to
the very feet of the hunters.

The boar thereupon turned to bay uttering the most fearful grunts,
turning up his bristles and drawing back his lips so as to show not
only his formidable tusks but also the teeth which were white as
ivory and sharp as chisels. Another shot was fired but missed and,
when the smoke of the powder had cleared away, the boar and the only
young one which was left had disappeared round a corner.

But Grenits and Grashuis did not for a moment think of leaving him
to escape, and they at once proceeded to clamber up the steep rock in
pursuit. They knew that to cut off the boar's retreat they must gain
the top before him. But they found it no child's play. They kept on
climbing with the most dogged determination; but they found the rocky
slope, upon which even the split hoof of a wild boar could hardly
keep a precarious foothold, a very dangerous path for a foot encased
in a European boot. At length, after almost superhuman efforts, they
had managed to clamber up to the top and, as they panted for breath,
they anxiously looked around; but could discover not a vestige of the
animals they had so painfully pursued. They had no doubt gained the top
of the rock before them and had disappeared in the tangled underwood
which covered the plain. To hunt any further for the fugitives would
be sheer waste of time and of strength. Completely fagged out with
their exertions, the two friends were about to throw themselves
down on the grass under the shadow of some low bushes, when suddenly
Grenits uttered a sharp cry. He found himself face to face with the
terrible wild boar. The animal, on gaining the top of the rock with
its young one, had, likewise exhausted, stretched itself out to rest,
thinking it had shaken off the pursuit of its enemies. Now, however,
it fancied that it was attacked in its very lair, and too weary to
attempt to escape, it turned to bay and, as such animals will do,
when driven to fury, at once assumed the offensive.

Grenits had but just time to jump aside and to bring his rifle into
a position of defence. The boar nimbly avoided the bayonet thrust
which Theodoor aimed at it, and then furiously turning upon his foe,
he charged. It was a very fortunate thing for Grenits that his legs
were encased in stout leather gaiters or else the sharp ripping tusk
would have inflicted a terrible wound. But though the leather resisted
the blow, yet such was the fury of the attack that Grenits lost his
balance, fell backward, and for a second was in the most deadly peril.

Had he been alone, the furious beast would undoubtedly have flung
itself upon him and in that defenceless position he must have been
ripped open in an instant. Already the boar was darting at his fallen
foe. For an instant Theodoor shuddered as he saw his bloodshot eye
and felt the hot breath of the monster in his face. Then he closed
his eyes and awaited the fatal thrust. But at that moment the beast
uttered a wild grunt of rage and turned away from Grenits to face
another opponent.

All this, though it takes some time to tell, had passed with the
rapidity of lightning; but short though the time was, yet Leendert
Grashuis had been able to shove a cartridge into the breech of his
gun and to bring his sword-bayonet to the charge. He had no chance
of firing however, for the shot would have been much more likely to
injure his prostrate friend than to kill the boar. Not the fraction
of a second was to be lost if he would save Grenits' life. Theodoor,
as we have seen, was already lying helpless on the ground and the next
instant must have been fatal. Then with all his might Grashuis drove
his bayonet at the infuriated creature. The thrust caused a painful
wound but glanced off on the right shoulder blade, while the monster
at once turned to confront this fresh assailant The boar then tried
to deal Grashuis a blow with its prominent tusks, but was caught on
the bayonet. The force of the blow was such that the weapon bent like
a hoop and was driven up to the muzzle into the boar's throat. For
an instant Leendert thought of drawing his weapon back; but at once
seeing the impossibility of doing so he pulled the trigger and the
animal received the entire charge full in the head. With a terrific
bound it sprang back tearing the rifle out of Grashuis' hands, then
it turned round once or twice and fell down twitching convulsively
in the throes of death. A few seconds afterwards, all was over.

All this had passed so quickly that the two friends scarcely realised
what had happened. They stood for a second or two gazing at the
death-struggle as if they were stunned and dazed; but presently the
truth dawned upon them, and they began to understand how dreadful
was the peril from which they had so narrowly escaped. Then they
embraced and congratulated one another most heartily, Theodoor Grenits
especially felt that he had escaped death as by a miracle.

After the first excitement had somewhat abated, human infirmity began
to make itself felt. The wild pursuit of the game, the oppressive heat,
the painful clambering up and along the ravine wall, and last but
not least, the desperate hand to hand struggle, which followed this
exertion, had exhausted our two friends so utterly and so completely,
that they could no longer keep their feet, but flung themselves full
length upon the grass.

Thus they lay, panting and striving to recover their breath, when,
after the lapse of a few minutes, Grenits thought that in the bushes
close by he caught a glimpse of the last little pig that had escaped
the butchery. Without taking the trouble to rise, he slipped a
cartridge into his breech-loader, put his weapon to his shoulder and
fired in the direction where he had fancied he had seen the little
beast disappear in the bushes. The echo of the report reverberated
grandly through the ravine like a clap of thunder--on and on rolled
the stately sound, gradually growing fainter and fainter, until at
length it died away softly rumbling in the far distance.

But the sound had not quite passed away, when Grashuis, as if suddenly
moved by some spring, raised himself upon his elbow:

"Did you hear that?" asked he, in a tone almost of alarm.

"Hear what?" said Grenits, "the report of my rifle--Of course I
heard it."

"No, no," said the other, "I fancied I heard a human voice just
now! Listen."

Yes, yonder in the far distance, but yet audibly and distinctly was
heard the cry:

"Help! Help! Help!"

"By heaven!" cried Grenits, jumping up, "that's a woman's voice!"

"Help! help! toean!"

"A woman's voice," repeated Grashuis, "and crying out for help! Listen
again."

"Help! help! toean!"

"I can see no other toeans besides ourselves. Our comrades are far
away in the ravine--and the voice does not come from that direction
at all," continued Grashuis.

"But," said Grenits, as he looked all around, "I can see nothing
anywhere, Leendert!"

"No more can I," replied the other. "The reflection from the water
on those rice-fields dazzles me painfully."

"Look yonder--I fancy I can see a hut--surely the cry must have come
from there," said Grashuis.

Just then the cry was heard again, but much more faintly.

"Help! help! toean!"

"That is a woman's voice," repeated Grenits, "she is crying to us
for help."

"But," said Grashuis, "what toeans can she be calling to?"

"What is that to me?" exclaimed Grenits. "Come along, some poor thing
is calling for help. Come along, I don't feel a bit tired now."

Before they hastened away, the two friends cast a look at the ravine,
out of which they had clambered a short time before--and there they
caught sight of their comrades who were following them, and who were,
in their turn, preparing to gain the summit of the rock.

Grenits thereupon fired off his gun, in order to attract their
attention, and when he saw that he had succeeded, he called to them, at
the top of his voice, while he stretched out his arm towards the west:

"There, there!" he cried. Then both hurried away.

"What did Theodoor say?" asked Verstork. "Could you make it out?"

"Not a word," replied van Nerekool, "he was much too far off; but
something strange seems to have happened."

"Come let us hurry on," said Verstork.

The little party then began to toil up the steep. They were not,
however, fired by the same enthusiasm which had inspired their friends,
and thus they took thrice as long to accomplish the ascent. When
they at length reached the summit, they could, in the distance, see
Grenits and Grashuis running at the top of their speed between the
rice-fields. The latter turned for an instant and waved his arm as
if to urge his comrades to greater speed.

"Help! help! toean!" was heard again, but this time the cry was so
faint as to be barely audible.

The two European gentlemen had, however, by this time, got much nearer
to the hut.

"Come on, come on," shouted Grenits, hoping that he would urge his
friends to greater speed.

"Are you sure," asked Grashuis, "that we are going in the right
direction? It appears to me as if we were getting further away from
the sound."

But they had no time for considering the matter, for, at that moment
a female form was seen rushing from the hut and running to meet them.

"Help, toean, help!" she cried, as she fell down at their feet.

It was a Javanese girl, whom neither Grenits nor his friend
recognised. With dishevelled hair and stained with blood, she rolled
on the grass as she covered her face with both hands.

"Help, toean, help," she moaned.

Astounded by the strange and unexpected apparition, the two hunters
stood looking at the poor girl before them. In their amazement they
knew not what to do. Grenits, however, who could not bear to see a
human being thus grovelling at his feet, took hold of the girl's arm
and tried to raise her from the ground; but she shook off his hand.

"I am ashamed," she muttered, as she tried to cast the thick masses
of hair over her bosom.

Just then a man, a Javanese, came darting out of the hut, and seeing
the poor girl he ran up to her at once. With a rough grasp he laid
hold of her arm, and strove to pull her up.

"Ah!" she exclaimed; then, as she recognised the fellow, she tore
herself away from him with a look of the utmost terror.

"Help, toean, toean, help!" she begged, turning again to the two
European gentlemen.

"Let go that woman's arm!" shouted Grenits, boiling with rage.

"What have you got to do with her?" asked Grashuis, who now recognised
Singomengolo.

"She has been smuggling opium," replied Singo, and turning to the
girl he hissed in a threatening tone, "Come along, will you, or else--"

"Take pity on me, gentlemen, take pity on me!" cried the wretched
woman.

"Come along, will you!" shouted Singomengolo, furiously, as he tried
by main force to drag her away.

"Let go that woman, I say--or else I'll smash your skull in!" shouted
Grenits, raising the butt of his rifle.

Meanwhile Grashuis had seized Singomengolo round the waist and was
attempting to drag him backward.

"I am a bandoelan," said the Javanese spy, somewhat haughtily; "I am
a bandoelan; you gentlemen will be sorry for having threatened me
and laid hands upon me." And, turning to the woman, he said again,
"Come along!"

"Once again, let her go," cried Grenits, and this time in a tone of
voice which plainly showed that he would stand no nonsense and was in
deadly earnest. Indeed he was on the point of bringing down the butt
of his gun crash upon the skull of the Chinaman, when he felt someone
grasping his arm from behind and heard a voice whispering in his ear:

"Take care Theodoor, take care, it is a dangerous thing to meddle
with those opium fellows."

Theodoor looked round, and, to his great surprise, he saw that it
was Mokesuep who thus warned him.

"You, Muizenkop!" cried he. "Where have you sprung from?"

"I lost my way," was the reply. "But for heaven's sake keep cool or
you will get yourself into trouble."

"What do I care," shouted Grenits; "let go my arm, I will soon settle
the matter with that confounded opium spy!"

Singomengolo stood there before him with an indescribable look of
ferocious malice on his evil countenance. He had laid his hand on
the hilt of his kris and, proud and impetuous as he naturally was,
he would undoubtedly have answered any act of violence with a stab
of his knife, if indeed the first blow had not laid him senseless.

For a moment he stood glaring at the European with bold and glittering
eye. Then suddenly he seemed to change his mind. He released the girl's
arm, for, across the rice fields, he now saw another group advancing
rapidly. In this group his quick sight had at once recognised not only
the Controller of Banjoe Pahit but also the wedono of the district,
and at the sight his sallow face grew pale.

"What's all this about?" asked Verstork as he came up to the spot.

"That wretched woman has been smuggling opium, Kandjeng toean,"
replied Singomengolo.

"That woman?"

"But--" cried van Nerekool, in amazement. "But, it is Dalima!"

"Dalima?"

"Yes Dalima, the baboe of the Resident."

"Good," said van Rheijn, with a laugh. "Our Resident keeps a baboe--a
stock of feeding bottles also--no doubt!"

Van Nerekool turned crimson. He had not wished to say, "the baboe of
the Resident's daughter."

Verstork removed one of the girl's hands from her face.

"Yes--it is indeed Dalima! And you say that she has smuggled opium?" he
continued, turning to Singomengolo.

He made a sign to one of the wedono's servants, who at once gave the
young girl a shawl, into which she hastily wrapped herself.

"Most assuredly," replied the bandoelan, "I have searched her myself."

"Indeed you have," rejoined Verstork, "and torn off her clothing in
the process?"

"She would not allow--"

"And it is you then," continued Verstork, "who have so shamefully
ill-treated her?"

"But what was I to do, Kandjeng toean? She offered resistance,
and--look here, I found this upon her!"

As he spoke, Singomengolo held up to the Controller's view a small
box. This little box was strangely similar to the one which, the
evening before, he had delivered to Verstork. Indeed, if the latter
had not with his own hand carefully sealed it and had not sent it
off himself to Santjoemeh he could have sworn that this second box
was the identical one he had seen before.

"Did you find that box in the girl's possession?" asked he, very
sternly.

"Yes, I did," replied Singomengolo, unabashed.

"I have not smuggled opium!" cried poor Dalima, still cowering on
the ground. "I have not smuggled anything; they dragged me into the
hut and have ill-used me shamefully."

"But," asked Verstork, "what brought you here at all?"

"I was on my way to Kaligaweh. Last night some man came to the
Residence, he came to tell me that my father was dying. Then I got
leave from the njonja and from nonna Anna to go and see him."

"Leave from the njonja and from nonna Anna, you said?" asked Verstork.

"And from nonna Anna, yes, Kandjeng toean," said Dalima.

"Then those two ladies will be able to bear witness to that I
suppose?" asked Verstork.

"Yes, Kandjeng toean."

"And I can bring witnesses to swear that this girl had opium in her
possession," interrupted Singo.

"Witnesses!" said Verstork. "Who are they?"

Singomengolo cast a crafty look around him ere he replied. He saw
Mokesuep quietly entering the little hut. That gentleman had taken
advantage of the confusion and had quietly sneaked away, while he had
a chance to do so unperceived. He had reasons of his own for so doing;
but Singomengolo's lip curled with a disdainful smile.

"Just now," quoth he, "there was a Dutch gentleman here."

"A Dutch gentleman!" echoed Verstork, now quite losing his temper. "A
Dutch gentleman! take care what you are saying. Are you trying to
make a fool of me? I won't stand such impudence, do you hear!"

"Muizenkop was here just now," remarked Grenits interrupting him.

"Muizenkop? why I have seen nothing of him all the morning!"

"I don't know how it is," replied Grenits, "he told me something
about losing his way."

"But, what has become of him?" asked the Controller.

"That I don't know--anyhow, he was standing here a minute ago."

"But," continued Verstork speaking to Singomengolo. "You said two
witnesses--who is the other?"

"Lim Ho," was the fellow's insolent reply.

"Lim Ho!" exclaimed van Nerekool in amazement.

"And Dalima in that condition! Now I understand all about it!"

"Lim Ho has terribly ill-used me," sobbed the poor girl "and--"
but she could not utter another word.

"And?" persisted Verstork.

"He and that man there held me fast."

"You villainous brute!" shouted van Nerekool as he shook his clenched
fist in the wretch's face.

"She has smuggled opium," replied the spy without flinching. "She has
smuggled opium, and I found it upon her--that is all. The gentlemen
must try not to lose their tempers. The girl is simply telling a
parcel of lies."

"I do not lie," cried Dalima, "I have not smuggled--my condition
shows plainly enough how they have treated me."

At a gesture from the controller a couple of oppassers lifted up the
young girl from the ground. Van Nerekool assisted them, and called
for another covering to wrap around her.

Then turning to the Controller he said, "A foul outrage has been
committed here--the way that poor girl has been treated is simply
infamous!"

Having thus for the moment taken care of Dalima, the company entered
the hut.

There they found Mokesuep smoking a friendly cigar with Lim Ho. The
latter's ear was bandaged.

"So," said Verstork to Mokesuep without bestowing so much as a look
upon the Chinaman. "So you're here!"

"Yes," was the reply, "I am here, I lost my way this morning in the
ravine and have been wandering about until I came upon this hut. I
then sought shelter from the burning sun. Bah, how hot it is in those
open fields!"

All this was said with the greatest self-possession. At the last
sentence the wretch actually puffed as if he had really been suffering
much from the heat.

"You have been here some time then?" asked Verstork.

"Well yes," was the reply, "about half an hour I should say, if you
call that some time."

"You will be called upon to bear witness," said the controller.

"Indeed--bear witness to what?"

"A dreadful outrage has been committed on that girl," continued
Verstork.

"An outrage?" asked Mokesuep as if much astonished. "I know nothing
at all about it."

"Nothing whatever has taken place here," remarked Singomengolo
speaking in Malay; for though he would not use it yet he understood
the Dutch language perfectly. "Nothing at all has taken place here,"
he repeated, "except the discovery of smuggled opium. Is that true
or not, babah?" The Chinaman who had risen from his seat when the
European gentlemen entered the hut, exchanged looks with Mokesuep,
but answered at once, "Nothing else, Kandjeng toean."

"I am not talking to you," said Verstork to the Chinaman, and then
turning to Mokesuep he continued.

"That girl, the baboe of the Resident at Santjoemeh, accuses both
these men of having perpetrated a terrible crime."

Mokesuep, who did not know Dalima, stood confounded when he learned
who she was. The baboe of the Resident! What if that high and mighty
one were to take up the cause of his servant? Indeed he did not know
what to say or what to do.

"Did you hear my words?" asked the Controller very sternly and very
impatiently.

The wretch caught a significant glance of Lim Ho who stood there
audaciously puffing at his cigar.

"I have seen nothing whatever of it, Controller," he replied.

"But I," interrupted Singomengolo in a taunting tone of voice,
"I accuse that baboe of having smuggled opium--I found it in her
possession--the babah and the Dutch gentleman can bear witness
to that."

"Is that true?" asked Verstork.

The Chinaman did not answer at once, vile and utterly depraved though
he was, yet even he hesitated. He could not quite make up his mind
utterly to destroy the poor girl whom he had so deeply injured. But
Singomengolo gave him a significant look and made him a sign which
was almost imperceptible.

"Yes," said Lim Ho at length, "that is perfectly true."

"Is that true?" said Verstork turning to Mokesuep.

"Yes--it is true," replied the latter with the utmost effrontery.

"Did you actually see the bandoelan find this box in the girl's
possession?"

"Yes," replied the wretch.

At this word Dalima fell into a dead swoon. The other men present
at the scene could not repress gestures of contempt and loathing,
for all were firmly convinced of the poor girl's innocence and of
the perjured scoundrel's infamy.

"You damned wretch!" shouted Theodoor Grenits beside himself with
fury and utterly unable any longer to restrain himself.

A contemptuous smile, accompanied with a still more contemptuous
gesture, was Mokesuep's only reply.

That was too much for Grenits. "There! there!" he shouted livid with
rage, "there, there! take that." And at the words he dealt the infamous
scoundrel two swinging blows in the face.

"Mr. Grenits! Mr. Grenits," cried Verstork in a dignified manner,
"Do pray control yourself, do not make my official duty more difficult
to perform than it already is."








CHAPTER XX.

A DINNER-PARTY.


A few hours later our sportsmen were seated at table in the pandoppo
of the Controller's house at Banjoe Pahit. Fritz Mokesuep, however,
we need hardly say, was not of the party. William Verstork was a man
who, as a rule, could put up with a good deal; but on this occasion
he had not cared to conceal the aversion with which that individual
inspired him.

As soon as poor Dalima had been properly attended to, and under
escort of a policeman, had been sent off in a tandoe as a prisoner
to Santjoemeh, the Controller had told Mokesuep, in pretty plain
language, that, after what had taken place between him and Grenits,
his company could very well be dispensed with.

"It seems to me," had been Mokesuep's reply, "that the person who
inflicted the insult is the one that ought to stand aside."

"Such, no doubt would, under ordinary circumstances, have been my
opinion also," returned Verstork, with icy coolness; "but before I can
consent to receive you as my guest, you will have to explain to me,
in a satisfactory way, how you came to be in this hut, so far from
the hunting-ground, and just at the time when the young girl was so
shamefully ill-used."

"She has not been--" interrupted Mokesuep.

"Now, pray do not mistake me," resumed Verstork, "I said ill-used,
at the present moment I make use of no stronger expression. We found
her here half-naked and bleeding, and she was calling upon us for
help. She had, therefore, evidently been ill-treated, at present I
say nothing more than that. She suffered this ill-treatment in your
presence--in your presence, who pretend to be a gentleman; and I
repeat what I said just now, you will have to give me satisfactory
proof that it was not in your power to assist or defend this poor
young girl before I will consent to receive you under my roof."

"But, Mr. Verstork--!"

"If you can clear yourself of the suspicion which, perhaps very
unjustly, at present rests upon you, I can assure you that nothing
will give me greater pleasure than to hold out my hand to you, indeed
you will find me the first to do so, unless my friend Grenits should
forestall me."

"In that case," said Grenits, "Mr. Mokesuep will find me perfectly
prepared to give him any satisfaction he may require."

"Satisfaction!" sneered Mokesuep, "never you mind about that, I know
well enough how to get satisfaction!"

"You refuse then," continued Verstork coldly, "to furnish me with
the explanations I require?"

"I owe you no explanations whatever, Mr. Verstork," cried Mokesuep,
"I intend to reserve my explanations for the Resident's ear."

"Very well, sir, just as you please," replied Verstork. "In that case
I have nothing further to say to you," and with a stiff, formal bow
he added: "Pray let me not detain you any longer."

Mokesuep ground his teeth with rage at this direct dismissal; he
flung his rifle over his shoulder, and, accompanied by Lim Ho and
Singomengolo, who had stood by as silent spectators of the scene,
without understanding much of what was going on, he hurried away in
the direction of Santjoemeh.

As he went he cried, "You shall pay for this, Mr. Verstork. I shall
have my revenge!"

It was a terrible threat, no doubt; but it did not take away the
appetite of our friends; and so, as we have said before, a few hours
after found them seated at the table in the pandoppo of the Controller
at Banjoe Pahit.

The pandoppo of the Controller's house could not, in size or extent, be
compared with the splendid gallery in the stately residential mansion
at Santjoemeh. But, for that very reason, it was more homely and more
comfortable. It lacked the vast empty spaces between the columns,
reminding one of a big market-hall, and it had not the lofty roof which
made one think of a cathedral. It was, in fact, much more like a cosy
sitting-room, and to this air of homely comfort, the tasteful manner
in which Verstork had furnished it, contributed not a little. Indeed,
this pandoppo was Verstork's ordinary sitting-room, and a very pleasant
retreat it was. The big windows, all of them furnished with venetian
blinds, gave free access to the breeze, while, on the sunny side,
they could be closed so as to exclude the heat; and thus within that
gallery it was always deliciously cool. The entire house moreover
was surrounded by trees encircling it as with a crown of verdure, and
their pleasant shade tempered the glaring light of the tropical day.

There, William Verstork used to sit whenever his presence was not
required in his office. There, at sunrise, he sipped his early cup of
coffee, there he breakfasted and used to dine. There again he was wont
to enjoy his papers and periodicals as in the afternoon he took a cup
of tea, and used to dream away the evenings musing within himself,
and often wondering whether, in such a place, it was well for a man
to be alone.

At any time of the day this pandoppo was a pleasant retreat, and
specially gay and comfortable did it look now when the host had
gathered his friends around his table.

The very table itself contributed to the gaiety and brightness of
the scene.

On that board were displayed the inevitable bowls of rice, cooked
by steaming in conical baskets of bamboo, every grain snow-white,
distinct and separate. And with this standing dish of rice were
served up in small saucers, an endless variety of soups, vegetables,
sauces, pickles, and condiments of all kinds. There were chicken-broth,
fish-soup, and other thicker kinds of soup. Then a variety of dishes
flavoured with Spanish pepper, among which devilled shrimps, devilled
eggs, the celebrated little red-fish of Macassar, the bean of the
Paskia speciosa and the famous "pirate pepper," so called no doubt on
account of its extreme pungency. The more substantial dishes consisted
of meat and fish, such as jerked beef, smoked venison, roast or boiled
joints, boiled and braised fowl, and a delicious fresh water fish,
the Olfromeus Olfax. These and other dishes, too numerous to mention,
are generally served up at a complete and well appointed dinner--or
as they call it in Java--rice table.

But the object which specially attracted the attention of our
Luculluses as they entered the pandoppo, and which made them smack
their lips in anticipation of a rare feast, was a sucking pig which
stood conspicuous in the centre of the table in a capacious dish. It
was roasted whole, was standing upright on its four legs, and had
a lemon in its snout. It was a product of the day's hunting, one of
the first victims, in fact, which had fallen, and had at once been
taken home by one of Verstork's servants to play a prominent part in
the entertainment.

Every one of the guests did full justice to the good fare, and
all proved themselves to be right valiant trenchermen; but though
the grinders were kept busily at work, and though the palates fully
appreciated the highly flavoured and succulent dishes, yet the tongues
were by no means allowed to remain idle, nor was the conversation
suffered to flag around the hospitable board. The reader may well
believe there was plenty to talk about.

"That confounded Muizenkop!" quoth Theodoor Grenits, "why, the fellow
very nearly made me lose my temper."

"Come, come, don't mention him," replied van Rheijn, "his very name
would take away one's appetite."

"By Jove," cried August van Beneden, "that sucking pig is a most
delicious morsel."

"Very nice, indeed," remarked van Rheijn. "But, how many of those
chaps have we bowled over I wonder?"

"That I cannot tell you," said Verstork.

"But," resumed van Beneden, "we ought to know the number in order
that we may be able to judge in how far our expedition may be called
successful. How shall we find out?"

"Patience, August, patience," said Verstork with a smile.

"All right, William," continued van Beneden, "you know I have no
great stock of that commodity. I wonder how many of those beasts we
have knocked over. I saw a good number of them sprawling about."

"The wedono will be here presently with his report," replied Verstork.

"The wedono! Yes, he has disappeared--where can he have got to?"

"Well," said Verstork, "I ordered him and the two loerahs to make a
careful search in the Djoerang Pringapoes. He will no doubt soon be
here to tell us the result of our day's work."

The words were scarcely spoken, before one of the oppassers came in
to announce the arrival of the dessa-chief.

"Show him in!" cried Verstork.

"Well, Wedono," he continued with a smile, "I see you come to share
our rice-table, that is very kind of you, I am glad to see you."

The Javanese chief, however, had recoiled in terror. Had the
conscientious Mohammedan been a Roman Catholic he would most assuredly
have crossed himself. As it was he merely muttered in the direst
confusion, "Excuse me, Kandjeng toean! You know that we are not
allowed to eat pork."

"But, you can take something else, Wedono--there is beef on the table
and fowl and duck and fish--anything you like in fact."

"Thank you, Kandjeng toean, thank you; but all these things have
been cooked in the same kitchen as the sucking pig, and, you know
our religion forbids us--"

"I am sorry for it, Wedono," replied Verstork.

"I came here, Kandjeng toean," continued the chief, "to give you my
report of the day's hunting."

"Very well, Wedono!"

"Seventeen pigs great and small have been killed. The Chinamen at
Kaligaweh and at Banjoe Pahit have bought the carcases from the
village people and are now busy carting them away."

"Ah, Wedono, those Chinamen know what is good," said Verstork.

"I suppose so, Kandjeng toean," replied the dessa-chief with a
forced smile.

"That is a pretty good number I think--is it not, Wedono?" remarked
van Rheijn. "Do you think," he continued, "that we have pretty well
exterminated them?"

"Pretty nearly," answered the wedono. "A number of our people have
gone after the pigs that broke away and have dispatched several of
them. There are but a very few left and they have sought for refuge
in the high mountain land, so that I do not think that we shall be
troubled any more by that mischievous brood."

"Well then, my friends," cried Verstork elated at the success of his
expedition, "we may say that we have done a good morning's work. Here's
good luck to Banjoe Pahit and the dessa-folk!"

All the guests sprang to their feet and raised their glasses. Van
Rheijn thrust a tumbler of beer into the wedono's hand--and with a
joyous "hip, hip, hip, hurrah!" a toast was drunk to the inhabitants
of the district who had been delivered from their troublesome visitors.

"Has the Kandjeng toean any further orders for me?" asked the
wedono. "If not I will beg leave to retire."

"Yes, Wedono--there is something else. In the entrance of the Djoerang
Pringapoes there lies a very big old boar, you will know him by his
long tusks--I very much wish to have the head."

"Excellent, excellent," exclaimed van Beneden, "Une hure de sanglier
à la sauce piquante, that will be a rare treat!"

"Hush, August!" said Verstork and, turning again to the wedono he
continued, "Then further, I want you at once to open the inquiry in
the matter of Dalima."

"Certainly, Kandjeng toean."

"And come to me presently--I must have some talk with you about
that affair."

"Very good, Kandjeng toean."

"Presently," cried van Beneden, "presently why--" and then he struck up


    "We won't go home till morning ...
            Till daylight doth appear."


The entire company joined in the well-known old tune. When the noise
had somewhat subsided, Verstork continued;

"Duty, my friends, before pleasure. You will presently go and have your
afternoon nap, then you will take a bath. I shall pursue this inquiry
with the help of the wedono. This evening it is my intention to return
to Santjoemeh with you; for the first thing to-morrow morning I must
have an interview with the Resident. You have understood me, Wedono,
have you not?"

"Yes, Kandjeng toean."

"Very good then, I will not detain you."

With a courtly bow, the dessa-chief took leave of the company and
retired.

The dinner went on; but the mention of Dalima had somewhat dashed the
high spirits of the guests. The recollection of the sad event of the
morning seemed to cast a chill over them all and to sober down even
the merriest of the party.

"Poor little Dalima!" sighed Grashuis, after a few moments' silence
during which he had been discussing a duck's wing, "Poor little
Dalima! could she be guilty of smuggling opium?"

"Get along with you," cried van Beneden. "Does that pretty little
thing look like a smuggler?"

"Take care, August," said van Rheijn with a laugh, "a lawyer ought
not to allow himself to be influenced by outward appearance. Am I
not right, Charles?"

Van Nerekool was not there and then ready with an answer to this
appeal; he was in fact busily employed in removing the bones from a
splendid slice of fish. But after a moment's pause he said:

"Certainly not--yet, for all that I also am firmly persuaded of the
girl's innocence."

"Of course, of course--the baboe of nonna Anna, eh Charles--cela va
sans dire?"

"But," remarked van Rheijn, "the thing that puzzles me is that the
opium was found upon her."

"Do you believe that?" asked another.

"Well I don't know what to say, there is Muizenkop's testimony."

"What! would you take that scoundrel's word?"

"Aye, aye," said Verstork very seriously, "the whole business looks
ugly enough."

"As far as I can see," said Grashuis, "there is but one hope left,
and that is that nonna Anna may have influence enough with her father
to get the affair hushed up."

A bitter smile curled van Nerekool's lip, but he uttered not a word.

"Now if Lim Ho, the son of the opium farmer, were not mixed up in the
matter," said Verstork musingly, "why then you might have some reason
for that hope--yes--then I think things might be squared; but now--"

"But," exclaimed van Beneden interrupting his friend, "can you for
a moment suspect that the judicial power--?"

"My dear friend--my good August," replied Verstork, "a highly placed
judicial functionary here in Dutch India once spoke these words:
'The opium trade lies upon this country as a heavy curse--it has
impressed its stamp upon everything, alas, even upon our courts of
justice.' I think I am right, Charles?"

Van Nerekool nodded affirmatively.

"Well," said van Rheijn, "all that is very sad, a very sad state of
things indeed; but the worst of it is that the use of opium makes
opium-farming a necessary evil."

"What nonsense you do talk!" cried Grenits impatiently.

"But Theodoor!"

"But Edward!"--

"If the abuse of opium did not exist, then surely there would at once
be an end of opium-farming. You will allow that I think?"

"Oh yes," replied Grenits, "that sounds very plausible no doubt;
but now supposing I were to retort by saying if there were no
opium-monopoly then the abuse of the drug would never have assumed
its present proportions? That does not perhaps sound so pleasant;
but it is a statement which is more easily verified."

"Oh yes, yes, we heard all about that last night; unfortunately
however, the proof was not forthcoming."

"Well," said Grenits, "what does history say?"

"History," replied the other, "what you call history is neither more
nor less than the personal opinion and utterance of the historian. One
man contends that Europeans brought opium into the country, and
another holds a different view--so much for history."

"But Edward, I hope you do not distrust the Council of India?"

"Well what does the Council say, Theodoor?"

"If my memory serves me, it says this, or words to this effect:
'The opium monopoly has always been most anxiously watched by the
Government as one of the most important sources of public revenue,
and every means of enhancing the productiveness of that source of
income has been most eagerly adopted.'"

"Aye, aye," returned van Rheijn; "but is all this true?"

"Why," said Grenits, "I hope, Edward, you do not doubt my word?"

"Not in the least, my dear fellow, not in the least. I am quite ready
to admit that your quotation is accurate; but was the Council properly
informed when it gave that opinion?"

"Well," replied Grenits, "if you go on like that, then we shall not
be able to trust anybody or anything. Those people are paid, and most
handsomely paid, to get the best and most trustworthy information. But
independently altogether of the Council's opinion, in which you seem
to have but little faith, tell me, does not the constantly rising
revenue from the farming of opium afford proof absolute of the truth
of the Council's word? Every successive year the estimate is higher
and higher."

"I know that," said van Rheijn, "but estimate and actual produce are
widely different things."

"True enough, they are sometimes widely different; but in this
particular case they are not. Heaven and earth are moved to reach the
figure at which the minister has estimated the revenue, and means
the most unfair, even the most criminal, are employed in order, if
possible, to surpass the sum at which the revenue has been placed. How
many a Netherland's Lion has been given away because, in this district
or in that, the produce of the opium contract has exceeded the figure
at which the minister put it! How proudly must the 'Virtus Nobilitat'
thus earned glitter upon the breast of its possessor!"

"But I want to know," remarked August van Beneden, "is the use of
opium really as injurious to the body as men say it is? We saw with
our own eyes last night that as far as morality is concerned it
has not much to recommend it; but how about its influence upon the
material body? We sometimes hear the word poisoning used; that very
term indeed was made use of last night, but it seems to me that it
is a system of poisoning under which a man may attain to a very good
old age, just as a man may grow old who drinks a glass or two of grog."

"Listen to me," said Verstork in a most serious tone. "We are sitting
here together, all, I hope, honest trustworthy men I can therefore
speak my mind freely and fearlessly before you, and I may without
reserve give you the conclusion to which a long and richly varied
experience has led me on the subject of opium.

"The habitual use of opium, even in comparatively moderate doses,
invariably leads to vitiation of the blood and constriction of the
vessels. This again gives rise to an asthmatic condition and to a
permanent and wasting and almost always incurable dysentery. These
are accompanied by the most distressing symptoms and intolerable
suffering. Upon the opium smoker, moreover, medicines begin gradually
to lose their effect, excepting the narcotic poisons in ever
increasing quantities. Hence the sufferer is driven to seek relief
in augmented doses of the poison, and if he cannot obtain these,
his condition becomes utterly unbearable. Yet to this suffering he
is doomed, unless he can pass from one fit of intoxication to the
other. Opium smoking is the only thing to alleviate the miseries of
the collapse which follows an opium debauch, and but few can afford
the continual drain of so expensive a remedy. Where a sufficient
quantity of good wholesome food is taken, these lamentable results
may be slow in showing themselves; and a generous and strengthening
diet has preserved many a man, for an entire lifetime, from the most
serious consequences of his pernicious habit. But even in these cases,
the state of the blood and the general condition of health are so bad,
that trifling ailments, such as an ordinary boil or a slight wound,
assume a most malignant character and often lead to fatal results;
and who can venture to say how many diseases, which depend upon
cachexia and which are so common in this country, are caused, or,
at all events, are greatly aggravated by the habitual use of opium?

"I spoke just now of a sufficient quantity of nutritive food; but we
know too well--and the Government also knows it--that but very few of
the natives can afford a supply of food which can be called either
sufficient or nutritious. It is well known how exceedingly meagre
the diet of the Javanese is, even among those who are in tolerably
good circumstances; and it is well known also that, even when he
can afford it, he very seldom makes use of food which is really
strengthening. And that diet, be it more or less generous, must of
necessity become more and more meagre when every day a considerable,
and ever more considerable portion of the wages is squandered in the
purchase of opium. Thus the enjoyment itself tends to make impossible
the only condition under which it might be indulged in with anything
like impunity.

"But, you will doubtless object--in such cases lack of money must
compel these people to limit themselves to a very moderate consumption,
and they will thus be preserved from the fatal effects of excessive
indulgence. Such, however, is not always the case. There are men,
and their number is by no means small, who in the days of their
prosperity have gradually accustomed themselves to a very considerable
consumption of the drug; and who, when all their worldly possessions
have vanished in clouds of intoxicating smoke, have been compelled
either to satisfy themselves with diminished doses of opium or
else to abstain from smoking altogether. It is difficult to fathom
the hopeless misery of such poor creatures. Further, experience has
proved, that very many whose daily consumption is strictly moderate,
yet at forty years of age and upwards suffer frightfully from the
ill effects of opium, especially of the most painful and incurable
dysentery. I myself have at Berbek, at Trengalek, at Santjoemeh, here
at Banjoe Pahit and elsewhere, cured a great number of such sufferers
with a certain remedy, and thus I have had ample opportunity to make
myself personally acquainted with the facts.

"Now, if with these unfortunate creatures we compare the thousands
who, at home, drink their couple of glasses of beer or of spirits,
then it will appear at a glance how much more pernicious is the use
of opium than the use of alcohol. The former indeed, is infinitely
more stupefying and deadening, and thus, very much more rapidly
than alcohol, it destroys the appetite; so that, even when plenty
of wholesome food is at hand, it either cannot be taken at all or
else loses much of its nutritive value. Confirmed opium smokers have
repeatedly told me that, in consequence of their pernicious habit,
they could eat only a few pinches of rice a day, whereas, when,
by the help of a remedy with which I supplied them, they were able
gradually to diminish their daily dose of opium, they could take ten
times the amount of nourishment.

"Then comes another point, and that is the extreme fascination and
seductiveness of opium, which causes the most pleasurable bodily
sensations, which fills the mind with glorious dreams, which, for a
while, removes all pain and suffering, while it, at the same time,
deadens much more effectually than strong drink, the mental faculties,
in this depressed race already sufficiently dormant, and thus the use
of opium holds its victim much more securely bound in the fetters of
his fatal passion, than the moderate use of alcohol enslaves anyone
at home.

"Having thus, by degrees, come to the influence of opium upon the mind
and the character, I must certainly not omit to draw your attention to
the selfishness and self-indulgence which it develops in the smoker;
to the ever-growing indifference to all his surroundings, even to his
own wife and children; to the listless indolence and aversion to work,
to care, to trouble in fact of any kind, which at length, by night or
day, allows him to think of nothing but of his master-passion and all
its concomitant cravings, to the gratification of which everything must
be sacrificed, and everybody must become subservient. A gin drinker,
for the indulgence in his ignoble passion, demands no other service
than that now and then someone is sent out to fetch him his dram; but
the opium smoker, if he can afford the luxury of attendance at all,
monopolises the services of his entire household. One must work hard
to earn the means of satisfying his expensive craving, another must go
and purchase his opium, a third must stand by in readiness to fill his
pipe, a fourth must prepare his coffee and the other refreshments he
requires. It is true, no doubt, that he is not so violent and not so
noisy in his debauch as one who is under the influence of liquor; but,
when the effects of the narcotic begin to wear off and his pains and
ailments again begin to make themselves felt, then, unless the whole
family is at his beck and call and ready once more to minister to his
passion, he fills the house with invectives and threatening--then he
utters moanings and lamentations most pitiful and heartrending. If
to this we add the bodily and mental debility which the opium slave
transmits as a legacy to his wretched offspring, though the majority
of smokers cease at an early age to have children at all, then we
cannot help wondering what kind of miserable stunted race will be
the second or third generation from the present one.

"And then," continued Verstork, after a pause, "and then the poverty
and destitution which the use of opium entails! What an amount of
prosperity and welfare has already been,--and is daily being--swallowed
up by the use of that baneful drug! Among the lower classes, an opium
smoker, even though he smokes in strict moderation, very soon arrives
at the point when he must devote his entire earnings to the purchase
of the drug, while at the same time his craving for refreshing
and stimulating dainties must likewise be satisfied. The families
are legion in which the wife, assisted perhaps by one or two of her
children, is the only breadwinner. Should she happen to be in delicate
health, should she be disabled by sickness or childbed, why then the
misery of such a household is unfathomable. And, believe me, such
cases of extreme misery are much more frequent out here than similar
cases of destitution in Europe occasioned by the abuse of drink.

"Now all these powers, bodily, mental, and moral; and all that
prosperity, which at present opium saps and destroys, might be devoted
to industry and agriculture. If such use were made of them, how much
greater would be both production and consumption, and how much more
considerable would be the profit to the exchequer--a profit earned in a
fair and legitimate way--than any revenue which the accursed system of
opium farming can produce! Thousands upon thousands of the natives here
have neither the energy, nor the means, nor the inclination to work or
to learn how they may profitably cultivate their gardens and fields,
neither do they care to progress in any branch of industry whatever;
because they have offered up--and are continually offering--all they
possess in the world to opium. But, are not industry and agriculture
the very life-blood of a State? Yet here, the state itself does all
it possibly can to poison that life-blood, and thus to bring about
its own destruction."

William Verstork here paused for awhile, after so long an oration, he
felt the necessity of quenching his thirst with a glass of beer. All
his guests sat silently waiting for what he might further have to
say. His words had evidently made a very deep impression upon his
hearers, for the language to which they had listened was the simple and
unvarnished tale of actual experience; and, however young and heedless
some of them might be, yet the speech of their friend had awakened
their interest, and had gone straight to their hearts. At length,
after having drawn a long breath, the Controller went on to say:

"You know, my friends, that my official career has not been passed
entirely at Santjoemeh. My probationary time I spent in the capital
of the Kediri residence. As second-class controller I was some time at
Berbek and at Trenggalek. I know, therefore, from personal experience
how matters stand in those residencies also. Now listen to me. Kediri
has a population of about 700,000 souls--the vast majority of them
very poor people. In that place the opium contract produces eighteen
hundred thousand guilders. If to that sum we add the price paid for
the drug delivered to the farmer, and the profits which he makes on
the sale then, I think, we shall be well within the mark if we put
down two and a half millions of guilders as the sum which those poor
people, of their own free will, pay annually to purchase a few hours
a day of enjoyment and oblivion. I say nothing now about the cost of
smuggled opium; the amount paid for it is not known, and every one
must, therefore, form his own opinion of that. How is it possible for a
population so poor to find so large a sum of money, in addition, mind
you, to all their other burdens, such as compulsory labour, salt-tax,
rent, licenses, import duties, &c.? That is a mystery to me--but then
you should see what kind of a life is that of a poor Javanese family.

"Their house is generally very small, built of bamboo and covered
with straw. Furniture they have none whatever; a mat spread out on
a bamboo bench, and a coarse pillow is what they sleep on. They cook
their food on the ground in pots and pans of the commonest earthenware;
they eat it on pisang leaves with their fingers; they drink water out
of an earthenware pitcher. They seldom, we may say never, wash their
clothes which, such as they are, they continue to wear until they fall
in rags from their bodies. The children run about naked, and grow up in
the mud among the bullocks. At five o'clock in the morning they rise
and go to work so as to be present in time for roll-call at six. They
work for their masters, in the rice-fields, at road-making, in the
coffee plantations, or in the osier-beds. Should a man get a day off,
he may go and work on his own account, and then he can earn about 40
or 50 cents (10 pence) for ten hours' labour. When they get home in
the evening, they have their morsel of food and fully half the day's
earning is spent on opium. At eight o'clock all are fast asleep, and up
to eight o'clock the only lamp they have in the hut is a saucer with a
cotton wick in a little stinking oil. Such is the faithful picture of
the daily life of a Javanese opium smoker. Nothing--absolutely nothing
to make the slightest break in this weary monotony. Nothing but work,
hard work; mostly for insufficient wages, very frequently compulsory
labour for no wages at all. And then, behind their backs to be called
a pack of lazy scoundrels! That is a little too bad. Tell me, have
we Dutch any feeling at all for our fellow-creatures? Is it not at
length high time that all that compulsory and unpaid labour should be
done away with and that the opium-curse should be banished from the
land? Every right-minded Dutchman ought to do his best according to
the utmost of his power to attain that end, because every Dutchman is
personally and individually responsible for so frightful a state of
things, and every Dutchman ought to be heartily ashamed of himself
while the poor patient Javanese are being so shamefully imposed
upon. All that the poor native can earn either by his work for his
masters or in his own free time, he must, in one shape or other,
offer up to that insatiable Moloch, the public treasury. There is
but one thing left for him, and that is a little rice; and of that
he has not enough to last him for the whole year."

"Yes," observed Grenits, when Verstork had finished speaking, "yes,
William, you are perfectly right, and that is the reason why he
seeks for consolation and temporary oblivion in the opium den, just
as in Holland a poor man in similar circumstances flies for relief
to the bottle. Thus cause and effect act and react upon one another;
misery suggests opium or drink, and drink and opium in their turn
engender misery. It requires a very powerful effort of the will to
shake off either bad habit, and drink and opium are the very things
which deprive a man of whatever power of will he may have. Therefore
it is perfectly hopeless to expect the people to take the initiative in
any such reforms as Verstork has mentioned; the evil keeps on spreading
and is daily striking deeper roots. The ruling power ought to exercise
its authority and drag these poor degraded people out of the slough of
despond in which so many of them are wallowing. It ought to do this,
I say, regardless of cost and trouble; and regardless also of the
pain it may for the moment inflict. Every right-minded citizen ought,
according as he is able, to assist the government in that arduous
task, and whoever would, for selfish motives, strive to retard or
to frustrate this plan of rescue ought at once to be put aside and
rendered harmless. If Holland and Dutch India cannot continue to exist,
or to speak more correctly, cannot continue to pay their way without
screwing a revenue out of such immoral sources as abuse of opium,
abuse of drink and unpaid compulsory labour--why then for honour of
the country it were better that it should do like the man who is no
longer able to maintain, by honest means, a separate home of his own,
and go and live as a boarder in the house of another."

For a few moments all sat silent. They all felt the truth, the
undeniable truth of Theodoor's words, though his concluding sentence
had most deeply wounded their patriotic pride. At length van Beneden
started up from his seat, and going up to Verstork he took his hand
and pressed it cordially.

"I thank you," said he in a tone of deep emotion, "I thank you
heartily for the insight you have given me into the fatal effects of
opium. I am but a young lawyer and have, as yet, had no opportunity
of appearing as counsel in any case connected with the traffic. I
have read much about the abuse of the drug, and I learned much last
night under the Wariengien tree on the green at Kaligaweh; but your
manly and vigorous words have awakened my conscience, and here, in
the presence of you all, I solemnly promise that I will, on the very
first opportunity that may present itself, make the very best use I
can of what your experience has taught me."

"Hurrah!" cried Leendert Grashuis. "William, your excellent speech
has thus had not only a practical, but it will have an immediate
effect. Aye, my friends, I say an immediate effect; for I have a
proposition to make to you--"

"Out with it!" they cried, "let us hear it."

"Yesterday, we all but witnessed the Amokh which took place at
Kaligaweh; this morning we were within a few minutes of witnessing
another and no less terrible crime. It is not my intention to analyse
the feelings to which these scenes have given rise in our hearts--the
father a manslayer, and the daughter dishonoured. Both these events,
however, are intimately and immediately connected with the infamous
system of opium-farming. We have heard the testimony of our superior
officer. In the name of all assembled here, I thank him for his
noble sentiments; and now my friends let us not be behind him in
generosity. Dalima and her father must have an advocate in the trial
which awaits them, and that advocate we have found. Both the accused
parties will, in our friend August van Beneden, find a defender who
will take up their cause with zeal and ability. Methinks, I can hear
his maiden speech--it will be a splendid one."

"Thank you, Leendert," said van Beneden with much emotion, "I can
assure my friends that they have not misjudged me."

"Aye, aye," continued Grashuis, "I know that well; but we all of us
intend to participate in the good work, do we not?"

"By all means!" was the general cry.

"Well then, listen to me, for now I come to the proposal I have to
make. In this case there can be no question of offering our friend
van Beneden any honorarium--that would deprive his labour of love
of its chief merit. But in carrying on this defence many expenses
will necessarily be incurred and many fees will have to be paid in
advance. We all know that Dame Justice is in India an expensive--a
most expensive hussy. Well then, let us all join hands and undertake
to find the funds that may be required--then August will be able to
carry on both cases in the most effectual and vigorous manner."

"Agreed, agreed!" they all exclaimed. "Now, August, do your best!"

"Now that we have arranged that business," resumed Grenits, "I have
a question to put to our host."

"By all means, Theodoor," said Verstork, "what is it?"

"I am a merchant," said Grenits, "and as such, I am bound to be
very inquisitive. In trade I not only need all the information I can
obtain about any article of commerce; but I find a little chemistry
uncommonly useful--"

"Come to the point," cried several of the guests; "we don't want any
lectures on chemistry and commerce!"

But Grenits, without paying any heed to the interruption, went on:
"Just now in your speech you made mention of a certain remedy which
I think you said you found useful in curing some unhappy slaves to
opium. Is that, may I ask, a secret remedy?"

"A secret remedy?" asked Verstork, with a laugh. "What do you mean--do
you take me for a quack-doctor?"

"Not by any means," replied Grenits. "Since this remedy then is not
a secret one, will you tell me what it is?"

"With pleasure," said Verstork; "they are pills which were given me by
a missionary. They are composed of opium and radix rhei or rhubarb, in
the following proportions: Twelve of these pills contain three grains
of opium and twelve grains of rhubarb. They are to be administered
every five days; the first time twelve have to be taken, the next time
nine, the third time six, but it is very seldom indeed that the third
dose is required, for by that time the patients are generally cured."

"And," persisted Grenits, "can you actually vouch for their efficacy?"

"To be sure I can," replied Verstork. "In my study you will find a
kind of trophy consisting of a dozen bedoedans or opium-pipes which
the smokers have deposited with me with the solemn promise that they
would never touch the pipe again. The missionary who gave me the
pills can speak most positively of upwards of seventy cures."

"Now," asked Grenits, "you will not be offended if I give you a
bit of advice in your own interest and in the interest also of the
missionary?"

"Certainly not," said Verstork, "let us hear it, by all means."

"Well, my advice is this: keep that prescription strictly to yourself
and don't say a word about it to anybody. The colonial secretary who
has but one object in view, and that is, to raise the opium revenue
as much as possible, might look upon your remedy as an attack made
upon the golden calf; and missionaries have before this been impeded
in their Gospel work, and men have been expelled from the colonies,
and official functionaries have been suspended or pensioned off for
the commission of much more venial offences than bringing such pills
as yours to the opium-smoker."

Verstork turned slightly pale as he heard his friend's well-meant
advice. For a single moment his thoughts flew to those dear ones who
so greatly needed his assistance and support. Did he repent of having
thus honestly spoken his mind? Who can say!--He put his hand to his
forehead as if to wipe away some unpleasant reflection. "Oh," said he,
"it is not quite so bad as that, I hope."

"Perhaps not," said Grenits, with a smile, "but your pills will not
earn you the Netherlands' Lion."

"That may be," said the Controller, "however, Fais ce que dois,
advienne que pourra, that is my motto. For all that I shall not give
the poor souls one pill the less."

Then, allowing his eye to wander over the table which by this time
had been pretty well cleared, for our friends had sat down to dinner
as hungry as hunters, he continued--

"My friends, our dinner is over. After yesterday's jaunt and this
morning's exertion, and after the very short rest we had last night,
you must all need repose. My servants will show you to your rooms. I
am going to work and, as I told you just now, this evening I am off
with you to Santjoemeh. I wish you all a pleasant siesta."

A few minutes later the pandoppo was deserted and towards evening
the five friends were galloping along the road to the capital.








CHAPTER XXI.

IN THE RESIDENT'S OFFICE.


Verstork was much too late.

After the scene in the hut near the Djoerang Pringapoes, he ought at
once to have jumped into the saddle and there and then have galloped
off to Santjoemeh; thus he might possibly have succeeded in warding off
the storm that was gathering over his head. As it was, he had allowed
another to forestall him. It was not long before he found that out.

"So!--that is your report of what has taken place!" said van Gulpendam,
in the most offensive and sneering tone imaginable, when the Controller
at length, after having long been kept waiting and after having times
out of number paced up and down the front-gallery, had been admitted
into the presence of his chief.

"So--that is your report is it? It seems to me you have taken your time
about it! Yesterday, before noon, the information had already reached
me. A pleasant dinner time for me when such things are occurring in
my residency. But the gentlemen, it seems, were amusing themselves
with hunting. Oh, yes! anything may be going on in their district,
then they see nothing, they hear nothing!"

"But, Resident--" Verstork ventured to say.

"Hold your tongue, sir," cried van Gulpendam, savagely, "I have asked
you no question, when I do it will be time enough to answer, and then,
I suspect, you will have no reply to make."

Verstork was standing there, in the office of his superior officer,
pale as death and unnerved and biting his lips with suppressed rage.

"I cannot say, Mr. Verstork, that you have clapped on too much
sail--you have been somewhat slow in making me acquainted with these
painful events."

"Resident, I--"

"I did not put any question," again roared van Gulpendam, with a look
of scorn and contempt upon his subordinate, "please hold your tongue!"

"It appeared to me, Resident, that--"

"Be silent, I say! I only have a right to speak--"

Verstork, however, took no heed of this rude interruption, and
quietly went on: "--That you made some remarks about the time of my
presenting my report. If that be so, I feel it my duty, nay my right,
to exculpate myself."

"If you will not keep silence," shouted van Gulpendam, "I will call--"
he was on the point of making a mistake, he was just going to say
the boatswain's mate; but he checked himself and said, "I will call
my chief constable and have you removed out of my presence."

"Hark you, Mr. van Gulpendam," said Verstork drawing himself up to
his full height, and speaking with much dignity, "Hark you, I am
neither your corporal nor your boatswain of the watch. And, further,
let me tell you that if you continue to address me in such terms I
will lodge a complaint against you with the Secretary for the Home
Department, or better still, with the Governor General!"

It was now van Gulpendam's turn to change colour, he saw that he had
gone a little too far. He had so long been accustomed to see every
one bowing down before him and putting up with all his whims and
fits of bad temper, that he never thought of checking himself in the
presence of Verstork, whom he had always looked upon as an easy-going
and good-tempered fellow. He now, however, at once drew in his horns
and said in a very different tone:

"Pardon me, Mr. Verstork, you know I am of a sanguine temperament. I
am, moreover, very much vexed at not receiving this news from one of
my officers in the first instance. Come, take a seat, I should like
to run my eye over this report."

The Controller sat down, while the resident at his desk turned his
back to the light and began reading the document. Outside the office,
a couple of police oppassers were pacing up and down, attracted, no
doubt, to the spot by the high tone of voice in which the conversation
had been carried on. In a moment or two van Gulpendam again broke
out--"I thought as much--I had been warned of this--" But, checking
himself, he said no more, and went on reading.

"Resident," said Verstork, "may I beg leave to inquire against what
you have been warned?"

Van Gulpendam looked up over the sheet of paper he held in his hand,
and fixing his eye on the controller's face which was turned to the
light, he said, with an assumed air of dignity:

"Mr. Verstork, you really ought to try and cure yourself of
the bad habit you seem to have contracted of interrogating your
superiors. Believe me that kind of thing makes a very bad impression. I
do not mind telling you what warning I have received, not, mind you,
because you demand the information; but because I consider it only
fair that you should know. It will probably bring you to the conclusion
that you had better take back this report and modify it altogether."

"Modify my report, Resident?" exclaimed Verstork; but, without noticing
the interruption, van Gulpendam continued:

"I have been informed that you intend to represent matters in such
a light as to make it appear that a successful attempt has been made
on the honour of this Javanese girl.

"But, Resident," said Verstork, very gravely, "this question concerns a
person who is in your service, who is the baboe--I may almost say--the
companion, of your own daughter."

"And who, as such," said van Gulpendam, interrupting him, "ought
to be a person of unblemished character. I quite agree with you
there. Unfortunately, she is nothing of the kind. Only a few days ago
she was roaming about outside the house for the whole night, and then
came in with a long rigmarole about a forcible abduction of which she
pretended to have been the victim. Now again, for the second time,
she is out at night, and this time she is found in the possession of
opium. She is the daughter of a smuggler--you know that as well as I
do, seeing that on Saturday last there was a murder committed in her
father's house, of which, luckily, you sent me timely notice. She is
engaged to be married to another opium smuggler; and now it has been
proved that she is a smuggler herself. At present she is safe under
lock and key, and I am glad of it, as it will spare me the trouble
of driving the brazen-faced slut out of my premises."

"But, Resident," resumed Verstork, as soon as his chief paused for
a moment to take breath, "when we came running up to her cries for
help, she was naked, bleeding, her hair dishevelled. Everything in
fact pointed to--"

"A desperate resistance to the police," broke in van Gulpendam. "I
know all about that. Did you examine her?"

"No, I did not."

"Very well, that examination I have ordered the medical authorities
to hold, and see there," continued the Resident, as he looked out of
the window, "why, unless I am mistaken, that is the carriage of the
chief medical officer now stopping at the gate! We shall soon get to
the bottom of this business."

Almost immediately after this the chief constable came in to announce
the arrival of the Surgeon General. The latter advanced to the
Resident's chair, shook hands very ceremoniously, and then went through
the same process, but much more familiarly, with the Controller.

"Ha, Verstork--you here?" he said.

Before, however, the Controller had time to reply, the Resident,
turning to the doctor, said:

"Take a seat, doctor--well?--"

"No question of any such thing, Resident!"

"Indeed--now did I not tell you so? But the girl was wounded they
told me."

"A few scratches of no importance whatever--mere trifling skin-wounds
and a little blood!"

"There was therefore no stu--stu--what did you call it?"

"Stuprum violentum--Oh, no, no! nothing of the kind. Here is the
formal certificate properly filled in--that will be sufficient to
satisfy all objections."

"Thank you, doctor--much obliged to you."

"Now, Resident, I must beg you to excuse me. I must be off at once as
I have a number of visits to pay. Good-bye, sir--good-bye, Verstork."

"No excuse required, doctor," said van Gulpendam, "don't let me detain
you; good-morning!"

As soon as the medical officer had disappeared van Gulpendam turned
to Verstork and said:

"You heard that--didn't you, Mr. Verstork?"

"Oh, yes, I heard it; but my conviction is not the least shaken."

"It is not?"

"No, Resident."

"Well, for all that," said van Gulpendam, airily, "I advise you to
heave to."

"To heave to? I don't understand you," said Verstork, though all the
time he understood perfectly.

"I will express my meaning in plainer terms," returned van Gulpendam,
very deliberately, "I advise you, as I have done already, to take
back this report and to modify it."

"Why should I do so, Resident? Why do you give me that advice?"

"Because, in the first place, the facts mentioned in it are twisted,
exaggerated, and represented from a prejudiced and partial point
of view."

"Resident!" interrupted Verstork.

But without heeding him van Gulpendam went on:

"In fact that paper reads like a sensational report, which evidently
is aimed at attaining some ultimate object. And then again there
occur in it passages which most certainly will be highly displeasing
to the Government. Here, for instance, is one of them:"

The Resident turned over the leaves of the document, and seemed to
be looking for a certain passage; having found it he read as follows:

"Allow me also to state that my official career of twelve years has
taught me that the opium-monopoly is an imperium in imperio; that
in order to promote the opium-trade everything the people loves and
honours is trampled upon and trodden under foot. The opium-farmer
does not trouble himself in the least about police regulations or
about penal statutes, his satellites simply enter people's houses and
violate the right of domicile; his spies and his policemen--at all
events the police which he has in his pay--have no scruples whatever,
and pay no respect to anything. A European would make himself liable
to severe punishment were he to treat the natives in the manner in
which the refuse of mankind, if only they are in the opium-farmer's
employ, dares to treat them. These opium-agents have respect neither
for the husband, the wife, nor the daughter. In the houses, aye even
on the public roads, they strip them, they search them in the most
disgusting manner, and never trouble themselves about any protest
at all. These scoundrels, sheltering themselves under the impunity
which the opium monopoly casts over them, inflict upon the natives
the most horrible insults frequently to satisfy their own passions,
sometimes merely for the purpose of revenge. A sad proof of this is
the treatment to which the Javanese girl, Dalima, has been subjected."

The Resident paused here for an instant and fixed a penetrating glance
upon his subordinate; but the latter as steadily returned his gaze.

"You see," he continued, "when I read such rant as that, then I
am forced to suspect"--and here the high functionary significantly
tapped his forehead with his finger--"that there is something wrong
with you here!"

"Resident! exclaimed Verstork, "you are forgetting yourself!"

"Not at all, my dear sir, for by writing thus, what do you in fact
tell me, in so many words? What but this: that in your districts these
domiciliary visits and these searches on the high roads are necessary
to prevent the illegal sale of opium. You know, even better than I
do, that quite lately there have in your districts been several very
ugly revelations. I have only to call to your mind the capture at
Moeara Tjatjing, the capture at Kaligaweh in the house of Pak Ardjan,
and now again smuggled opium is found with Setrosmito and with his
daughter Dalima. Suspicions may perhaps have arisen in my mind that
Banjoe Pahit is a hot-bed of smuggling; but now your most intemperate
language confirms my worst fears."

"Resident!" cried Verstork no longer able to contain himself, "however
great is the respect which I am bound to feel for your mature judgment,
yet I cannot allow these words of yours to pass without protesting
against them. For, in the first place, you insinuate that I have been
guilty of neglect of duty with regard to the opium-traffic, and,
in the next, you suggest that this neglect of duty on my part has
made Banjoe Pahit a hot-bed of the smuggling-trade. I am, however,
perfectly well acquainted with the duties which the Order of 1867
imposes upon me, and, allow me to assure you, I am too conscientious
to neglect those duties."

"My dear Mr. Verstork, I did not intend----" interrupted van Gulpendam.

"Give me leave to continue," resumed Verstork; "I have been attacked,
I now defend myself against your imputations, it is my duty to do so,
and I claim it as my right. I positively and utterly deny that Banjoe
Pahit is a hot-bed of smuggling."

"Do you intend to tell me then," cried van Gulpendam, "that no
smuggling is carried on there?"

"I do nothing of the kind, Resident," replied Verstork, "were I to do
so that would be saying what I know to be untrue. My district lies
right along the open and everywhere accessible coast of the Java
sea. The laws which control the illegal traffic in opium are, as you
are aware, wholly insufficient; and, even such as they are, we have
not the power to carry out the laws effectually. No wonder then that
the smugglers--and, as you know, the opium-farmers themselves are the
chief offenders--no wonder, I say, that the smugglers make the most of
this lax state of things. It stands to reason that it should be so;
but if you compare the illegal trade which goes on at Banjoe Pahit
with the smuggling in the adjoining districts which lie along the same
sea-coast, then I maintain that you will find that my district, far
from being as you would have it, a hot-bed of smuggling, contrasts,
in that respect, very favourably with the others. Now, as regards
the cases to which you have twice alluded, I, as controller of the
district, have very carefully investigated them; and I now give it you
as my deliberate opinion that the opium discovered at Moeara Tjatjing
was put on shore by the boats of the schooner brig Kiem Ping Hin,
a vessel which, you know, does not stand in the odour of sanctity;
whilst the other two concern but very minute quantities of the drug
which assuredly would never have been found at all, had the bandoelans
been previously themselves well searched."

"That is all very fine, Mr. Verstork," replied van Gulpendam, "but for
the present it carries us too much into detail. To come to the point,
however, I now again repeat my friendly advice, go about, go about,
and take back this report."

William Verstork sat there pale as death. For a moment he covered
his eyes with his hands as if he would exclude some painful vision,
and he reflected. The thought of his mother, of his sisters and
brothers, came up vividly before him, and ran like a red-hot iron
through his brain. He fully grasped the purport of the advice he
had heard. He knew perfectly well that it was not only a counsel,
but also a threat, a threat moreover from an all-powerful superior
to a helpless subordinate. For one moment--to his honour be it said,
it was but for one moment--he hesitated; then his strong natural
sense of duty resumed its sway.

"Resident," said he in a gentle and low, but yet in a perfectly steady
voice, "what would be your opinion of me if I were to give way and
follow your counsel? What would you think of me if I were to take
back my report? I say nothing now of the violence which I thus would
be doing to my sense of common honesty."

"Sirrr!" roared van Gulpendam in a passion.

"Would you not, in that case, consider me wholly unfit for the position
which I at present occupy; would you not feel the deepest contempt for
my character, and would not your sense of duty urge you at once to
request me to retire from my country's service? At any rate, I know
that you could never again, from that moment, place the slightest
confidence in me. Is not that true? And yet the position I occupy
imperatively demands that I should enjoy the fullest confidence of
my superior officer."

Mr. van Gulpendam had by this time recovered his temper, he could
not help feeling the force of Verstork's words.

"You take the whole business," said he in his most conciliatory manner,
"much too seriously. Now, just see how I look upon it. Yesterday you
gentlemen had a most fatiguing day's hunting. I make no doubt that
now and then the pocket-flask was appealed to--of course it was, and
very naturally too. After the hunt was over, a jolly sociable dinner,
at which strong, heady Haantjes beer and heavy Baour wine--perhaps
even generous champagne circulated pretty freely. No harm in that,
all that is the most natural thing in the world. Amongst young people
one could expect nothing else. Well--in that happy frame of mind you
sat down to write your report--that is how I look upon it."

"Indeed, Resident," replied Verstork, "that report of mine then seems
to have made no impression upon you, than that either I was not right
in the head, or that I wrote it under the influence of liquor?"

"Mr. Verstork, my dear sir, you have such a queer way of blurting
out things. Believe me, I have but one object in view, and that is
to prevent you--in your own interest mind you--to commit an act of
folly. It is for you to say whether you are prepared to withdraw this
report--yes or no. To this I have but a single word to add, and that
is: that your entire career depends upon your present decision."

Verstork heaved a deep sigh. He saw only too clearly that, in whatever
way he might decide to act, his position was an exceedingly difficult
one. But for all that he would not retrace one step on the straight
path upon which he had entered, which he knew was the path of truth
and honour, and very quietly, but very firmly he said:

"Resident, my decision is taken. Come what will, I refuse to take
back my report."

"Is that your final decision?"

"It is, Resident."

"Now think it well over--is that your last word?"

"Resident, it is."

"Be it so," said van Gulpendam with apparent resignation, "you will
have no one but yourself to blame for the consequences."

"I am prepared to meet the consequences, Resident."

"Very well, in that case I shall have to send up the paper in its
present state to the Governor General--the matter will then be in
his hands."

Verstork was preparing to rise and take his leave, thinking that the
painful interview was at an end.

"One moment please, Mr. Verstork," said the Resident. "Just sit down
for another few minutes--I have another account to settle with you."

"What is that, Resident?" asked the Controller.

"Yesterday morning a highly respected inhabitant of the island was
publicly insulted and even suffered personal violence, merely because,
at your bidding, he bore testimony to the truth. That abuse and that
ill-treatment he suffered in your presence and you did not, so far
as I am aware, exercise your authority either to prevent it or to
put a stop to it."

"It was all the work of an instant," replied Verstork; "the words were
uttered and the blows were dealt so suddenly and so unexpectedly, that
no one--not even you--had you been present--could have interposed. I
can assure you that had there been the slightest fear of the offence
being repeated, I would have stepped in to prevent it."

"I know nothing about all that," said van Gulpendam coldly. "I only
know that abusive words were uttered and blows were dealt, while you,
the superior officer, stood by. That is how the matter stands. Now if
I could only have suggested to the authorities that our young hunters
were in a state of excitement and that the action was merely one of
youthful indiscretion."

"No, Resident, not so," exclaimed Verstork, "not at all--not at least
under the influence of that particular kind of excitement which you
were kind enough to suggest just now."

"It was done therefore in cold blood! I am obliged, Mr. Verstork,
to take notice of that fact; you see even if I were disposed to be
lenient, your own words deprive me of the power of hushing the matter
up. All this, I fear, is not much in your favour, sir, and your friend,
who seems so ready with his fists, will thank you no doubt for your
testimony to his sobriety."

"My friend!" cried Verstork, "what has he got to do with all this?"

"What has he got to do with it? Why he will find that out soon enough
I fear. I have here lying before me a formal accusation, which I
hoped I might be able quietly to shelve and say no more about; but
now, I must forward it to the authorities. You see, Mr. Verstork,
you might have avoided all this unpleasantness."

"Ah, Resident," replied Verstork very bitterly, "I begin to see that
Mr. Mokesuep has not allowed the grass to grow under his feet. Be all
that, however, as it may. If you think that this trifling occurrence
must be followed up--very well then, let the law have its course! I
shall be the very first to appear as a witness."

The Resident uttered a strange short laugh; but made no reply.

Verstork rose from his seat.

"Have you any further orders, sir?" he said with a formal bow.

"None at present, Mr. Verstork."

"Then I beg to wish you a very good morning."

A slight nod from the Resident, who still kept his seat at his desk,
was the only reply to his greeting.

The next moment Verstork was walking down the steps of the mansion
muttering to himself as he went, "Poor mother, poor sisters!"

"Stupid ass," said van Gulpendam to himself. "Yes, an arrant fool
indeed! Now that that booby won't come to terms the business will
require a little more piloting. Never mind, I have friends in Batavia
who know how to get such questions safe into harbour; men who knew
how to make General van der Heijden disappear, and who will not think
much of this little job. Forward! is the word--at the end of it all
there is the 'Virtus Nobilitat.'"

A short time after, Verstork sat down to dinner with his friend van
Nerekool. The latter was the only one at home since van Rheijn had
sent word that pressing business would keep him at the office and
that he could therefore not be in to dinner. The two friends were
discussing the events of the former day and the result also of the
morning's interview with the Resident. The Controller was so utterly
downcast and disheartened, that van Nerekool, who himself was not in
the best of spirits, yet felt that he must try and cheer him up and
put some courage into him.

"Come, William, old fellow," he said, "don't hang your head so
sadly. You would almost make me think that you repent of the course
of action you have taken."

"Repent, Charles," cried the other, very sadly and yet without a
sign of hesitation. "Repent? no never, if it were all to do again
I would, in every respect, act as I have done. But, my poor mother,
my poor sisters!"

"Don't look at things so darkly," said van Nerekool.

"So darkly did you say? Why--the very best thing that can happen is
that I shall be transferred to some other place--that I shall be torn
out of the sphere of work to which here I have become accustomed."

"Well," said Charles, "and suppose that should happen?"

"Why, that in itself is already a grave misfortune; you know how
expensive moving is in India. Then comes the question, where shall
I be sent to? You do not suppose that they will give me a lucrative
place. For years and years I shall have to face very serious pecuniary
difficulties and, meanwhile, it will be impossible for me to do for
my dear family that which it has now so long been my pleasure to do."

"Come, come," replied Charles van Nerekool, "cheer up! Even if it
comes to the worst, some remedy will be found for that at least--I
can promise you so much at least."

"But, my dear Charles--that is the smallest misfortune that can happen
to me. Every other possibility is simply terrible. Just think--what
if they dismissed me from the service altogether?"

"Now," said Charles, "you are exaggerating. What in the world have
you done to deserve dismissal! On the contrary, you have secured for
yourself the esteem and admiration of every honest man."

"Honest man!" said Verstork bitterly, "oh you don't know with whom
I have to deal!"

Van Nerekool's face twitched painfully--he had learned to know
something of the man with whom his friend had come into collision.

"But," continued he as cheerfully as he could, "but can we not think
of some means of warding off the blow? Can we not manage to avoid
even the least of these misfortunes?"

"Aye," cried Verstork, "that is the very thing I have been cudgelling
my brains about?"

"Have you any friends at Batavia," asked van Nerekool, "do you know
any one there?"

"Friends? yes, I know one man, a certain Mr. Reijnaals."

"What? Reijnaals--the son-in-law of the member of the Indian Council?"

"Yes, that is the man."

"Why then he is your man. Come cheer up and let us now together sit
down and draw up an accurate account of all that has taken place. That
account you will send to Reijnaals. And I also have friends in Batavia
who, I think, have some influence. I will write to them. Come let us
set to work and begin our battle fearlessly--it is no good moping." So
the two friends sat down to their task and when, very late in the
afternoon, Edward van Rheijn came home from his office, two letters
almost as bulky as parcels, had been sent off by the mail. Van Rheijn
looked weary and care-worn.

"You are very late," said van Nerekool--"have you been very busy?"

"Yes, very busy," was the brief reply. "I am tired out and am going
to lie down a bit."

"Anything particular?"

"No, nothing very particular; but plenty of work."

"What about?" asked van Nerekool.

"Excuse me," replied van Rheijn putting his fingers to his lips,
"they are office-secrets which I am not at liberty to reveal."

With these words he involuntarily cast a pitying look on William
Verstork.








CHAPTER XXII.

A SALE AT BANJOE PAHIT.


On a Saturday evening, about a fortnight after, a great number
of young people were assembled in the open air at the round table
before the verandah of Concordia, the club at Santjoemeh. It was a
gala-night and consequently all the élite of Santjoemeh had turned
out. The gentlemen were for the most part inside the club-house,
or strolling about within the grounds, the ladies, either on foot
or reclining in elegant carriages, were promenading and enjoying
the splendid evening which the full moon, at nine o'clock high up
in the heavens, rendered still more delightful, and listening to the
excellent music of the band.

Within the club-house were seated some elderly ladies and gentlemen,
gravely and solemnly playing a game at cards; the young people lounged
in the front gallery, while the gayer and more restless spirits among
them sought the open air and were, as we said above, grouped round
the table in front of the outer gallery. There they found themselves
in full view of the ladies whose glances they were glad to receive
and ready to repay with interest.

"Look yonder," cried one of this group, "there goes pretty little
Celine with her mother and her aunt!"

"Yes," replied another, "and Hermance on horseback; I think her a
much prettier girl."

"I say, look out! there comes the Resident's carriage."

"Aye, I see with fair Laurentia. She is no doubt coming to take
a hand. Just look how attentive van Rheijn is to her. Quite the
gallant--he is helping her down--now he offers his arm!"

"Of course! the njonja of Kandjeng toean Resident!"

"You may say what you like but she is a monstrous fine woman--I envy
that fellow Edward!"

"I grant you--she is a splendid woman--but she is not a patch upon
her daughter."

"You are right there," cried another. "By the way where can nonna
Anna have got to? One sees her nowhere now."

"I am told she is gone on a visit to a friend--they say to spend a
few weeks with the wife of the Assistant Resident of Karang Anjer."

"What Karang Anjer in Bagelen? That is a deuce of a way off! Is there
anything wrong with her?"

"Why, don't you know? Van Nerekool has proposed and been refused--and
it appears that until Charles can get some other appointment elsewhere,
the Resident wants to keep his daughter out of the way."

"What do you say?" asked another, "Charles van Nerekool going
away--what in the world is that for?"

Just then Grenits, who had been sitting some time in the reading-room
of the Club, came up to the group of young men with a newspaper in
his hand.

"Good evening, Theodoor!" was the general cry; for the young
merchant was very much liked by all, and exceedingly popular among
the members. "Have you got any news that you are walking about with
the Santjoemeh Herald?"

"Listen to me, gentlemen," said Grenits as he slowly unfolded his
paper and began to read:

"'Messrs. Gladbach and Co., will sell by public auction on Monday
the 24th inst., the whole of the Furniture and Effects belonging to
William Verstork, Esq., Controller at Banjoe Pahit. The principal
items include: seats, rocking and easy chairs, tables, marble-topped
consoles, mirrors, paintings, lamps of all descriptions, terra-cotta
statuettes, awnings, screens, bedsteads and bedroom furniture
complete--wash-stands, wardrobes, linen-presses, cupboards, kitchen
and stable furniture--all in excellent preservation and as good as
new. Further a splendid collection of plants such as roses, crotons,
ferns, &c., in pots and ornamental tubs. One Bengal cow with calf in
full milk, a considerable quantity of poultry; turkeys, geese, ducks,
fowls and pigeons. Several carriages all nearly new--a well-trained
saddle horse, a pair of iron-grey carriage horses, a pair ditto,
black Battakkers. Messrs. Gladbach & Co. are prepared to supply
full particulars, catalogues and conditions of sale. Nota Bene. On
Monday next from 7.30 to 8.30 carriages will start from the green at
Santjoemeh to convey intending purchasers to and from Banjoe Pahit
free of cost.'"

As Grenits concluded, his hearers looked at one another in some
surprise.

"Come, that's not a bad idea," said one, "that free conveyance is a
capital dodge."

"Verstork going to leave!" cried another. "Where is he off to--it
seems he is going to sell even his saddle-horse."

"He is going to Atjeh," replied Grenits. "He won't want a horse there."

"To Atjeh! why that is impossible" cried another, "the army is in
charge there, there can be no vacancy in that place for a civilian
like Verstork!"

"I know nothing at all about it--I can only tell you what William
has told me. But, in order that no mistake may arise, allow me to
tell you gentlemen that my friend Verstork knows nothing whatever
about the free conveyances to Banjoe Pahit, that is entirely my doing,
about which I have not consulted him. I alone am responsible for that
addition to the advertisement."

"I see," laughed one of the company, "you do not want the thing to
hang fire."

"Very likely not," said Grenits coolly.

"But," asked another, "why is Verstork to be removed, and to Atjeh,
of all places in the world?"

Grenits shrugged his shoulders but made no reply.

"Why, don't you know?" cried another, "it is all about that affair
with Lim Ho! You have heard of the story of Lim Ho and the pretty
baboe Dalima?"

"Aye--I know now--when Lim Ho so nobly resisted temptation--at least
so says our Surgeon-major."

"Yes," added another voice, "and when our friend Grenits boxed
somebody's ears."

"Ah, yes--Muizenkop did catch it--I say what has come of that
business?"

"He has brought an action against me," shortly replied Grenits.

"Has he? The brute! But how do you know that, Theodoor?"

"Why," said Grenits, "he has served me with a summons."

"Ai--! that means a few days' free lodging for you, my friend. Well,
never mind, we will come and look you up now and then--won't we,
gentlemen?"

"To be sure we will," was the general chorus.

"Time enough to think of that," said Grenits. "If I am locked up
I shall expect to see you, my friends. But just at present we have
something more serious to attend to. About that sale--I invite you
all to put in an appearance on Monday next."

"That Grenits always has an eye to business," said one of the young
men with a laugh.

"Gentlemen," continued Theodoor most gravely, "this is no joking
matter. It concerns an innocent man who hitherto has maintained a
mother and sisters entirely dependent upon his aid--and the question
is whether he will, in the future, be able to continue to give them
that assistance?"

"Oh, is that it!" was the cry all round, "then we shall all be
there--you may depend upon us!"

"Yes, you may depend upon every one of us!"

"Thank you," said Grenits, "that's a bargain."



Yes! William Verstork was removed from Banjoe Pahit and was to
be sent to Atjeh! The detailed report which he had dispatched to
Reijnaal had been of no avail. He might perhaps have over-estimated
his friend's influence--or, perhaps, that friend did not much like
to meddle in the matter; at all events nothing came of Verstork's
appeal. The letters also which van Nerekool had written to Batavia
led to nothing. He did receive a kind of answer; but they were only
a few vague and half intelligible sentences.

What really happened in Batavia was this. On a certain Friday--the
usual day on which the Council of India meet--the assembled members
were greatly surprised at seeing the Governor General suddenly appear
in their midst, a thing which very seldom happened.

"Gentlemen," he said, after the customary ceremonial greetings had been
exchanged, "Gentlemen, a very serious complaint against a first-class
Controller has been forwarded to me by the Resident at Santjoemeh. I
have also received a document from the subordinate officer, containing
his defence to the charges made by his superior. This document directly
contradicts many of the Resident's statements, and it is for that
reason that I am desirous of having the advantage of your opinion. Now
the Resident at Santjoemeh is a most zealous and meritorious public
servant, thoroughly devoted to his country's interests; but it must
be said that in the discharge of his duties, and especially in his
conduct towards his subordinates, he is frequently too absolute and
peremptory, and allows his feelings to get the better of him. I must,
at the same time, however, confess that even thus he never loses sight
of the common-weal. Such being the case in this matter also, it would
not have been difficult for me, I think, so to settle the dispute
as to satisfy both parties without in any way interfering with the
superior officer's authority. Unfortunately, however, the question
is a more complicated one. The difference between the Resident and
his Controller is one which seems to implicate the opium-farmer at
Santjoemeh, and which threatens to bring us into conflict with him. I
think indeed I may go a step further, and that I am justified in saying
that a strict investigation, such as the controller insists upon, would
bring to light certain transactions which would compel us altogether to
exclude the present farmer Lim Yang Bing from the approaching contest
for the opium monopoly. Now, in strict justice, that exclusion would
no doubt be highly desirable; but we must not lose sight of the fact
that this Lim Yang Bing is the wealthiest Chinaman in Santjoemeh,
that he stands at the head of the most considerable company in that
district, and that he thus exercises almost absolute control over his
countrymen there. The consequence, therefore, of excluding him from
the coming opium competition, would be a very considerable fall in
the amount which, at present, it is expected to realise. And that,
in days like the present!--Yes, gentlemen, I repeat it, at a time
like the present!--Just now I received a telegram in cypher from the
Hague, which tells me that the estimate of the Colonial Secretary
has found no favour in our house of Representatives; because it is
thought that his estimate is much too low, and that expenses have
not been sufficiently kept down. That telegram further states that
one of you gentlemen will most probably soon be invited to take the
place of our present Colonial Secretary. Well--whoever he may be,
I cannot say that I envy him the distinction. It is quite certain,
however, that the first thing he will be expected to do, is to drive
up the revenue to as high a figure as possible, and, for that purpose,
the opium monopoly, in spite of what men may think or say about it,
seems to me to be the only available means. In order, therefore, not
to make the task of the future minister more difficult than it must
of necessity be, it is my opinion that it would be good policy just
at present to protect the opium farmer. The Resident of Santjoemeh
tells me that the withdrawal of Lim Yang Bing from the competition
will make a difference in the revenue of at least six or seven hundred
thousand guilders."

At the mention of these figures, the eyes of the youngest member of
the Council sparkled with unwonted fire, and, in his zeal for the
public exchequer, forgetting the usual etiquette, he interrupted the
Governor General before the latter had quite finished his speech.

"With your Excellency's leave," said he, jumping up from his seat with
much animation, "I would remark, and I feel confident that, in what I
am about to say, I shall but utter the sentiments of all my colleagues,
that under circumstances like the present, we ought not to hesitate
to adopt any measures which may serve to make the finances of the
country correspond to the demands of the times. Any proposal which
may promote such equilibrium cannot fail of ready acceptance from a
board such as ours, which, inspired by the highest patriotic feelings,
is ever prepared to make any sacrifices for the welfare of Holland."

The appeal was so shameless that its very grossness insured its
success. The members of the Council bowed their heads in acquiescence,
and the lips, which could have uttered such terrible truths, under the
influence, doubtless, of the enervating effect of the tropical sun,
now merely opened sleepily to utter an obsequious:

"Yes, your Excellency!"

The Governor General, who at once perceived that he had gained his
point, then said with a sigh:

"In that case my course with the Controller is clear. I am much
obliged to you, gentlemen, for your counsel."

The next moment the drum was rolling at the main guard, and the men
turned out to present arms to the king's representative as he drove
away to his palace on the Koningsplein, well satisfied, no doubt,
that he had performed a signal service to his country, if not to
humanity at large.

In four days' time William Verstork received the order of his removal
to Atjeh, and, what was perhaps more galling still, along with it a
letter from the Director of the Home Department, in which that official
expressed the hope that, in his capacity of Controller, he would make
the best use of his undoubted abilities and of his great knowledge
of the native character to aid and assist the military authorities
in their arduous task of pacifying the population. And, the director
went on to say: "Allow me also to cherish the expectation that, in
the future, you will exhibit a greater amount of tact; and to suggest
that you should show more deference and respect to your superiors;
for, after this plain warning, you can expect no further indulgence."

"Well, Charles," cried Verstork, as he flung the letter upon the table,
"what do you think of that?"

"I think it is a burning shame!" replied van Nerekool, his voice
trembling with indignation.

"You see, my dear fellow," continued Verstork, "this is the most
favourable result we could anticipate. Removed to Atjeh! that is to say
struck off from the list of the Home Department of Java and Madura. It
is simply a degradation. Are these the principles which animate our
rulers? The state of society out here is rotten--rotten to the core!"

"No, no!" cried van Nerekool, with animation, "don't say that--there is
one part of that society which is sound and undefiled, and which stands
high above the tricks and paltry intrigues of the ruling powers--and
that is the judicature. The power of the law will succeed in bridling
and subduing the monster of injustice and tyranny."

Charles van Nerekool spoke these words with all the enthusiasm of
truth--he was fully persuaded of the truth of his assertion. Verstork
looked at his friend and a bitter smile came over his troubled
countenance. He did not, however, say a single word, he would not
disturb the day-dream of his friend--the future, he knew, would soon
enough dissipate his fond illusions.



Banjoe Pahit, that quiet and secluded dessa, was, on Monday morning,
the scene of the greatest excitement.

At the gate of the Controller's house a Javanese stood striking
measured blows on the gong, and that unwonted noise brought the
entire population around him. Within the house, Grenits, Grashuis,
and van Nerekool were busily employed helping Verstork to set out
the furniture, which, presently, was to be offered for sale, to the
best advantage. In one place a writing-desk had to be placed in a
more prominent position--in another a cupboard or table had to be
re-arranged. Pictures also and statuettes had to be placed in the most
favourable light; for Grenits, with the true eye of a commercial man,
knew that, next to advertising, a tasteful exhibition of the articles
would attract the attention of the buyers.

At length all was considered in readiness, and it was with a kind of
mournful satisfaction that the friends walked through the apartments,
surveying and admiring the arrangement in which they had borne a
principal share. In the back galleries especially, where the glass,
the crystal and the dinner-services were displayed, their finishing
touches had been remarkably successful.

Everything looked so neat, and in such perfect order, that Grenits
could not help exclaiming:

"No one would think that these are bachelor's quarters! William,
I can promise you an excellent sale."

Meanwhile the gong kept on clanging incessantly.

Just then a couple of carriages came rolling up to the Controller's
house. Out of one of these stepped the Regent of Santjoemeh, and
he at once walked up to the European gentlemen. After the customary
salutations:

"Well, Radhen Mas Toemenggoeng," said Grashuis hugely pleased at
seeing the Javanese chief arriving thus early, "you are coming,
I hope, to buy a good lot!"

"Perhaps, sir, but money is scarce," replied the Regent with a smile.

"Never mind that, Radhen Mas," laughed Grenits, "you can buy on tick."

The cautious old chief smiled and shook his head, but had no time
to reply; for by this time the second conveyance, a capacious drag,
had discharged its load which consisted of a member of the firm of
Gladbach and Co. and the whole of his staff of clerks, &c.

The agent walked up to Verstork, shook hands with him and whispered:

"Very bad news, Controller!"

"What is the matter?" asked Verstork.

"The Chinamen at Santjoemeh have been ordered not to come to your
sale."

"Who gave that order?"

"I don't know," replied the agent shrugging his shoulders. This was
bad news indeed; for the Chinamen, if they happen to be well disposed
towards the owner, are generally very brisk bidders. Their abstention
indeed threatened to be very disastrous.

Verstork heaved a deep sigh as he ran his eye over his possessions
which now bid fair to go for an old song. He sighed, not because he
particularly regretted the probable loss; but at the thought of his
dear ones yonder who--

But fortunately he had no time for indulging in melancholy
forebodings, for the carriages now succeeded one another with amazing
rapidity. Drags, landaus, waggonettes, dog-carts, and spring-carts,
came flying up the drive and began setting down their loads at the
entrance of the Controller's house. A great number of horsemen too
and pedestrians from the estates round about, began to flock in;
and the oppassers on duty found it as much as they could do to keep
the carriages in line, to put up the saddle-horses and to usher the
gentlemen into the house.

All ranks of European society in Java were there represented;
landowners, tenants, coffee planters, rice-planters, sugar and
indigo manufacturers, merchants, insurance agents, shipping agents,
solicitors, notaries, barristers, judges, officers of the Army
and Navy, in fact it seemed as if the whole of Santjoemeh had
migrated bodily to Banjoe Pahit. In the capital all business was
at a standstill; there was not a single conveyance, not a single
spring-cart or carriage to be got there. The Resident van Gulpendam
noticed that these vehicles did not occupy their usual stands, and
was told that they were all off to Banjoe Pahit.

He smiled at the information; but it was on the wrong side of his
mouth.

Still the gong went on giving forth its harsh discordant sounds.

The employés of the Home office and its clerks and writers, who
were employed in the Residential office, were conspicuous by their
absence. Not one of them had been able to get leave for an excursion
to Banjoe Pahit.

The Javanese population, in their usual retiring way, timidly crowded
round the animated scene. These poor people most assuredly did not
come to buy, they were impelled by curiosity just to get a peep at
the interior of a European's dwelling house.

Treêng, treêng went the gong incessantly. When the company had
pretty well assembled, and compliments had been duly exchanged,
Verstork left the place. He could not bear to be present and see
his household gods dispersed. So he went to the Mohammedan priest,
with whom he had some matters to settle before he left the dessa,
and after the sale was over he purposed to return to Santjoemeh with
van Nerekool, Grashuis and Grenits.--

No sooner had he left, than the representative of Gladbach &
Co. whispered a few words to the auctioneer. The latter made a
sign to one of his servants. Hereupon the gong began to clash more
horribly than before, a shower of blows fell on the metal disc. This
infernal din lasted for a space of ten minutes, and then suddenly
ceased altogether.

The proceedings now began.

The sale was opened in the front gallery in which a very fine
collection of flowers in ornamental pots and tubs, were tastefully
arranged in groups of a dozen, on the steps which led up to the
verandah. These were the first lots to be disposed of.

"Twelve pots of flowers!" began the auctioneer, "who will make a bid
for them?"

"One guilder!" cried someone in the crowd.

"One guilder bid, one guilder!" cried the auctioneer in the usual
drawl.

"One and a half!"

"One and a half," repeated the auctioneer.

"Two guilders! Three guilders! Four guilders! Five guilders!" came
the bids in quick succession.

"Five guilders! Five guilders bid!" cried the auctioneer, "Who bids
higher? Five guilders are bid," drawled the auctioneer, as he turned
his head and stared hard at the last bidder but one.

"Eight guilders!" cried the latter.

"Eight guilders!" cried the echo, "who bids higher?" Then the fire
opened again.

"And a quarter," cried a voice.

"Eight and a half!"

"Eight three quarters!"

"Nine guilders!"

"Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen!"

"Thirteen guilders," cried the auctioneer, "who bids more than
thirteen?"

"I wouldn't mind," cried a voice, "if I only knew how to get those
confounded pots home to Santjoemeh."

"Never mind that," shouted another, "I will take them for you in
my cart."

"Thirteen, twice!" said the auctioneer.

"Fourteen, fifteen," went the bids.

"Fifteen!--once!" said the auctioneer.

"Twenty guilders!" shouted a voice which rang out above all the noise.

"A fine bid," murmured Grenits.

"Twenty guilders, once--Twenty, twice--Twenty for the third and
last time!"

Bang! down came the hammer.

"Who is the buyer?" asked the clerk.

"I am," replied an officer. He was an elderly man--a first Lieutenant
of Infantry.

"Who is I?" asked the auctioneer from his perch.

"I, Langeveld, first Lieutenant of Infantry."

"Mr. Langeveld, do you pay cash down?" asked the auctioneer.

"Cash down?" asked the officer, quite surprised, "what do you
mean? Your office always gives three months' credit."

"Only to those whose pay is above two hundred and fifty guilders,"
said the man.

"Two hundred and fifty guilders? Whose order is that?"

"It is the order of the superintendent of sales at Santjoemeh,"
replied the auctioneer.

"The Resident," muttered van Nerekool, "a most infamous trick!"

"Do you pay ready money? No?" continued the auctioneer, "then you
will have to find some security, or else the lot will have to be put
up again."

The officer, who was a man of unblemished name and character, turned
fiery red at this wanton and unexpected insult.

"Lieutenant Langeveld, I will be your security!" cried van Nerekool.

The officer bowed his thanks. The second lot of flowers, however,
which was much finer than the first, did not fetch a rix-dollar. The
shameful dodge at headquarters evidently had its effect on the spirits
of the buyers. Grenits saw the drift of all this in a moment. He held
a hasty consultation with van Nerekool and a few landowners who were
standing by him. Just as the third dozen of pots were being put up,
a burly, broad-shouldered gentleman cried out:

"A word with you, Mr. Auctioneer. A disgraceful trick is being played
here--I never saw such a dirty thing done before--a trick which Mr. van
Nerekool, Mr. Grenits and myself are determined to frustrate. For
every gentleman who wishes to buy at this sale, and who may happen
to fall under this novel condition of having to pay ready money,
we will stand security."

"Bravo! bravo!" was the general shout.

"Does that satisfy you, Mr. Auctioneer?"

The man nodded assent. He could not do otherwise. This incident served
to rouse a general enthusiasm; the third lot of flowers brought eighty
guilders; the last no less a sum than two hundred and fifty. True it
is that before this last lot was put up Grenits had cried:

"Crotons! magnificent crotons! The Adal-adal! (Croton Tiglium); the
Camilla (Rothlera tinctoria); the Kamillakkian (Croton Corylifolius)
and the wax-bearing Croton (Croton sebiferus)! Who will bid for
them? I bid sixty guilders!"

A cheer followed his words; the game went on
merrily--seventy--eighty--ninety guilders! Higher and higher still went
the bids, until the two hundred and fifty guilders were reached. The
lucky man who secured the lot received quite an ovation, just as if
he had drawn the first prize in the State lottery.

That set the ball a-rolling. Chairs, tables, mats, lamps, wardrobes,
mirrors, pictures, all went for the same fabulous prices. At last
it became a mad charge in which every one seemed bent on securing
something, no matter at what cost. Long faces were drawn indeed; but
it was not because the bids were too high but because the prices were
wholly out of the reach of some pockets. It was in the back gallery,
however, that the excitement rose to its highest pitch.

"Twelve liqueur glasses!" shouted the auctioneer. They were very
ordinary little glasses--in Holland they might be worth a penny
a-piece--in India they might cost perhaps five or six pence.

"Twelve liqueur glasses!" again shouted the man.

"Out of which the bitters taste remarkably good!" cried Grashuis,
"I know that by experience."

"We might try some," cried a voice; "yonder in that stand I see a
decanter of bitters."

A cheer followed this proposal--a servant was already busy pouring
out the liqueur.

"What kind of bitters is that?"

"Maagdbitter," said a sienjo.

"Pahit prawan," translated an interpreter.

A thundering hurrah greeted that splendid attempt at translation.

"I say, Kees, you must be made interpreter--sworn interpreter!" shouted
one of the bystanders.

"Here's to you; I drink your health in pahit prawan!"

"One rixdollar!" cried Grenits.

"Three! Four! Five! Six! came the bids, in rapid succession. The
auctioneer could not turn his head fast enough to catch the eye of
the bidders.

"Six!" at length he managed to exclaim.

"Seven! Eight!--"

"Ten!" cried Grenits.

"Ten offered," droned the auctioneer with the utmost indifference. This
was not the first strange scene he had witnessed in his profession.

"Ten!" cried he, "won't any gentleman go higher than ten."

"Come, come, that is pretty fair," said a voice.

"Ten once, ten twice, ten for the third and last time!"

Bang! down came the hammer.

"An expensive set," grumbled some one in the crowd, "a hundred and
twenty guilders--the bitters must be good at that price."

"Especially pahit prawan!"

"Well, give us another glass."

The last lot put up for sale--a gajoeng, that is a simple cocoa-nut
vessel with a handle used for throwing water over the body in the bath,
fetched five and twenty guilders.

The friends of Verstork might well congratulate each other. They had
worked to some purpose. When half an hour later the clerk posted
up the total receipts, the house very nearly came down with the
deafening cheers.

"Nine thousand seven hundred and forty guilders!" exclaimed Verstork,
when he heard the result of the sale; "why, the whole kit was not
worth three thousand. Thanks, many thanks, my friends."

He shook hands warmly with van Nerekool, with Grashuis, with van
Beneden and with Grenits. "You have saved me many an hour of dreadful
anxiety," he whispered to them.

Eight days after, the Controller was standing, in excellent spirits, on
the deck of the Tamborah which was to convey him to his new abode. Full
of courage and full of hope, he took leave of the trusty friends who
accompanied him to the steamer.

"Once again," he cried to them from the deck, "thanks, a thousand
thanks!"

Grenits had helped him to realise as profitably as possible the
proceeds of the sale, and when he reached Batavia he had sent a
considerable portion of the money to his mother, recommending her
to be very careful of it, as he might most probably be obliged, in
consequence of his removal from Banjoe Pahit, to diminish the amount
of his monthly remittances.

When the Tambora was nearly on the horizon there were still
handkerchiefs waving farewell to him from the shore-boat.

Verstork still kept on deck gazing at the shore. "Fine noble fellows,"
he muttered as he wiped away a tear.








CHAPTER XXIII.

THE COURT ADJOURNED.


On a certain day, not very long after the events narrated in the former
chapters, a carriage drew up before the pandoppo of the Regent's
house situated on the green of Santjoemeh, where the members of the
judicial bench of that district used to hold their court.

Out of the carriage there stepped a gentleman who looked with some
surprise at the concourse of people which had gathered around the
house; but who, nevertheless, with calm and dignified air, walked up
the steps which led to the interior.

That gentleman was Mr. Zuidhoorn, the president of the district-court,
who, on the day appointed, had come to open the session.

The crowd assembled in front of the Regent's pandoppo consisted
chiefly of Javanese, a circumstance which could not but attract the
notice of the judicial functionary, inasmuch as the native population,
which was formerly so fond of frequenting the courts held under the
Wariengien trees of the village green by its native chiefs, now shows
the greatest disinclination to enter the Dutch courts of justice.

As a rule, the Javanese is never seen there except he be fettered
or under the escort of a couple of policemen--that is to say, either
as a prisoner, as a criminal, or as a witness. Among the crowd some
Chinamen also were conspicuous, and all were evidently awaiting with
anxiety an event of no common interest.

"What is the meaning of this concourse, Mr. Thomasz?" asked
Mr. Zuidhoorn of the deputy-recorder, whom he met as he entered
the pandoppo.

The latter, who was a half-caste, looked up at his chief with a
puzzled expression of countenance.

"You stare at me very strangely," continued Mr. Zuidhoorn. "What can
have brought all this crowd of people together?"

"They are curious, I suppose, to know," replied the recorder, not
without hesitation, "how it will end."

"How will what end?"

"Well, sir, what will be the result of the session."

"The session?" repeated Mr. Zuidhoorn, surprised in his turn,
"is there anything very remarkable about it?"

The recorder evidently felt very ill at ease.

"Sir," he stammered, "you seem not to know what has taken place."

"No, I don't," replied Mr. Zuidhoorn, "what is the matter?"

Mr. Thomasz was getting more and more nervous. His face, which was very
sallow, began to assume a greenish yellow complexion. Mr. Zuidhoorn
seeing the man's confusion cried out:

"Speak up for goodness sake, man, speak up!"

"The native members--of the council, sir--have received a letter from
the Resident--" he managed to stammer.

"A letter--!" exclaimed Mr. Zuidhoorn--"from the Resident! What in
the world about?"

"It was a letter, sir, forbidding them to attend this session."

"Forbidding them to attend!" exclaimed Mr. Zuidhoorn, now fairly
astonished. "Why, Mr. Thomasz, have you taken leave of your senses?"

"No, sir, indeed I have not," replied the recorder with a painful
smile. "You question me and I am obliged to answer--and further--"

"Well, what else? Out with it!"

"The Chinese assessors and the head-djaksa have received similar
communications--so that--"

"So that what?" cried the president impatiently.

"So that there will be no court held to-day since you will be the
only member present."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed the president. "I tell you what,
Mr. Thomasz, my carriage is still at the door, you jump into it and
drive off at once to all the native members, and also to the Chinese
assessors, and to the djaksa, and tell them that I order them to come
here without delay. To-day is the assize-day, and I am determined
that the cases shall be heard."

"I will do as you bid," replied the recorder. "You are my superior
officer."

"Very good--make haste."

As soon as the man had left, Mr. Zuidhoorn began pacing up and down
the pandoppo in great excitement.

"It is a monstrous thing!" cried he to himself, "I could not--I dared
not--suppose that they would carry matters so far! Yet I ought to have
foreseen something of the kind! Yes--I am a great fool--why! when a few
weeks ago I received a request from the Resident to alter the order of
the cases, a request with which I refused to comply, then I suspected
that there was some scheme on foot; but that they would have adopted
so arbitrary a course as this! A few days ago even, when I received
a written statement from the Resident informing me that I was no
longer competent to preside over the court, because I had obtained
leave of absence, even then I could not suppose that they would
have recourse to so high-handed an infraction of the law. Yesterday
the Resident informed me by word of mouth that he intended to avail
himself of the right of presiding in person; but I made no reply, for
I looked upon his words as a merely formal notice, and never dreamt
that anyone could be foolish enough to tamper so offensively with the
regulations of the court. Yes! for a most stupid thing it is thus to
enforce an old and obsolete rule, which was made when, as yet, there
was no idea of any individual being specially appointed as President
of the Sessions. But--what can be the drift of all this? What can it
all mean?" he asked himself as he paced up and down.

His eye lit upon the charge-sheet which the recorder had left lying
on the green-baize cover of the table. He took it up and began to
read out the cases inscribed upon it, making his remarks upon them
as he went on.

"M`Bok Bardjo: accused of secretly conveying away coffee! Poor people
who are compelled to plant coffee, and are not allowed to drink it;
but are obliged to put up with a wretched decoction of coffee-leaves!

"Bariedin: charged with wearing in public a civilian's
cap--Ridiculous! Those fellows in the Home Department do make fools
of themselves--such a trifle is high treason in their eyes.

"Sarina: charged with deserting her infant child--that's bad--not so
bad however as flinging the poor little thing into the river or the
canal as they generally do at home in such cases.

"Pak Ardjan: accused--of--opium--smuggling--and wounding--a
policeman! Now I think I am coming to it--now a light dawns in upon
me; and the next case?

"Ardjan: accused--of--opium--smuggling! Ardjan, the future husband
of the baboe Dalima!"

These two last cases Mr. Zuidhoorn had read so slowly and so
deliberately that he seemed almost to spell every syllable; then,
for a while, he stood lost in thought, while he put his finger to
his forehead.

"How could I have forgotten that? And van Nerekool, who so recently
talked the whole of this business over with me!--And--the day after
to-morrow I must be off to Holland!

"Well, no matter, those cases must be disposed of to-day, and they
shall be disposed of at any price! I shall see about that!"

Yes, the judge would see; but not in the sense in which he meant it;
he would see that the court was not to sit at all that day.

When he had got thus far in his soliloquy, the door opened, and the
Regent of Santjoemeh appeared, and with him came one of the most
considerable of the native chiefs of the Residence, Radhen Ngahebi
Wirio Kesoemo. They were both members of the court, and it was their
turn to be in attendance. They were accompanied by the panghoeloe or
priest, carrying the inevitable Koran in his hand. Both the former
dignitaries confirmed the statement of the deputy-recorder, and told
Mr. Zuidhoorn that the Resident had expressly forbidden them to attend
the court on that day. "But," they continued, "since the Kandjeng
toean judge has summoned us, we feel it our duty to obey his commands."

"But," asked the president, "what reason does the Resident give for
this prohibition?"

The Regent merely shrugged his shoulders and, very prudently, made
no reply. Radhen Ngahebi however said:

"Yesterday I called upon the Resident, and then the Kandjeng toean
informed me that, after having got leave of absence, you were no
longer qualified to take the chair at the sessions; and that it was
for that reason he had sent the letter."

Mr. Zuidhoorn smiled contemptuously; but, in the presence of natives,
he refrained from uttering a single word which might have even a
semblance of questioning the authority of the highest official who
was the representative of the Dutch power in Santjoemeh. Indeed
he scarcely had time to speak, for very soon after the Javanese
chiefs and the Chinese assessors also entered the pandoppo. They
very cautiously and with infinite circumlocution informed the toean
lakkel, thus they pronounced the word "rakker" which signifies judge,
that they were not to blame for arriving so late.

At length the chief djaksa appeared. He made a ceremonious bow to the
chairman and to the other members of the court and said, that he had
that very morning been summoned into the presence of the Resident,
and that he had, from his lips, received a peremptory order not to
attend the court.

"However," he continued, "in my capacity of native judge I am under
your immediate authority, and I have come to inquire how you wish me
to act in this matter."

As he spoke he made another deep bow to his superior officer.

"Djaksa," replied Mr. Zuidhoorn, "I have no commands whatever to give
you. You occupy so high a position that I must leave you to judge for
yourself what course you had better pursue. As far as I am concerned,
I have most positively made up my mind to carry on the business of the
court to-day; and, seeing that our number is now complete, I intend
to open the proceedings at once. Gentlemen, please to take your seats."

Scarcely, however, had they done so, and just as Mr. Zuidhoorn was
in the act of bringing down his presidential hammer and declaring the
sessions opened, the back door of the pandoppo was thrown open and the
private secretary of the Resident appeared on the threshold. He was
in official costume and accompanied by a posse of policemen, one of
whom held aloft behind him the Resident's unopened umbrella, in token
that the secretary appeared as representative of his chief. Without
deigning to offer any greeting, the secretary began:

"You, Radhen Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo, and you, Radhen
Ngahebi Wirio Kesoemo, and you, Panghoeloe Mas Ali Ibrahim, and you,
Ong Ang Thay, and Kwee Lie Liang--you have, as members, as priest,
and as assessors of this court of justice, received a written order
from the Kandjeng toean Resident distinctly forbidding you to attend
here on this day. The Kandjeng toean Resident now sends me to inquire
what can have induced you to commit so grave an offence as knowingly
and deliberately to disobey the command of him who is the direct
representative of the Kandjeng toean Governor General, who again in
Batavia stands in the place of the Kandjeng toean Radja dari Tana
Nederland dan Hindia? Speak, I am prepared to hear what explanation
you have to offer for conduct so insubordinate? Be well assured that
whatever may be your excuse, the Kandjeng toean Resident will give
it his calm and impartial consideration."

The deepest silence succeeded this startling address. With the
exception of the chairman, the men assembled there seemed annihilated
by the secretary's words, they hardly dared to draw a breath, they
scarcely ventured to look at one another. They wished the ground
would open and swallow them up. How could they have had the audacity
of daring to disregard the express command of the Mighty Lord? Their
disobedience was indeed flagrant! Would the Kandjeng toean ever forgive
them for it? Such were the thoughts which passed through the brains
of the fearless and independent judges who were considered fit and
proper persons impartially to administer justice to their countrymen.

Mr. Zuidhoorn--who thoroughly knew the Javanese character and who
had learned to fathom the abject and cringing servility of the native
chiefs towards their Dutch masters--Mr. Zuidhoorn, who so often had
compared them with the dog that licks the hand of the man that strikes
him--looked with compassion on the poor creatures that showed such
abject cowardice even when sitting in the very court to which they
had been summoned to discharge duties, which, above all other duties,
demand perfect fearlessness and independence. This servility, indeed,
could hardly be laid to their charge; it was the natural result of
the long system of extortion and bullying to which their race had
been subjected.

Once again the secretary very impatiently asked: "Radhen Mas
Toemenggoeng and Radhen Ngahebi, I am still awaiting the answer I am
to carry to the Kandjeng toean Resident!"

After having looked round and waited a while to see whether any of the
chiefs thus addressed would attempt to say anything in justification,
Mr. Zuidhoorn, in a most dignified and impressive manner said:

"An answer, Mr. Secretary, which I will take upon myself to give
you. I, in my capacity of President of this court of Santjoemeh, to
whom the members, the priest and the assessors, in all matters relating
to this court, are directly subordinate, I, this morning, sent to them
my peremptory orders to attend here. The said members and assessors,
therefore, are in no wise to blame--they have merely, in this matter,
obeyed the commands which I, their superior officer, have issued
to them. The entire responsibility rests upon me. Be kind enough,
Mr. Secretary, to communicate this my reply to the Resident; and do
not, by your presence, any further delay the business of this court."

"Mr. Zuidhoorn, after leave of absence has been granted you, you have
no right whatever to occupy the chair. I enter my protest against the
course of action you have seen fit to adopt; and I call upon you now
to resign your place to the Resident who intends this day to preside
in person."

"Mr. Secretary," replied Mr. Zuidhoorn with the utmost calmness,
"it is not my intention to enter into any argument with you about my
rights. You will inform the Resident that I shall not resign my seat;
and that I intend, to the last moment, to carry out conscientiously
the duties of my office. Again I request you to withdraw, in order
that the court may proceed with the business it has before it."

"Mr. Zuidhoorn!" cried the secretary, in a threatening tone of voice,
"mind what you are about!"

"The entire responsibility rests upon my shoulders,
Mr. Secretary. Usher, clear the court, and see that it be not further
disturbed!"

Mr. van Gulpendam flew into a foaming rage when he received the
message. In a towering passion he strode up and down the front-gallery
of the Residence, the secretary striving like a dog to keep up with
him, which his corpulence however would hardly allow him to do.

"What insolence!" shouted the great man, "what insolence! He shall
pay for it! But--what to do now? Meanwhile the trials are going on,
and we shall have an acquittal no doubt. Those law chaps are capable
of anything! I know what I shall do--a company of soldiers! I shall
have them driven out of the place at the point of the bayonet like
so many sea-mews!"

He rushed into his office--forgetting, in his anger, that such
Napoleonic measures are not exactly suited to the taste of the Dutch
people--to send a note to the officer in command of the troops
requesting him to come to him at once. As soon as he had written
his precious epistle he bellowed out "Oppas! Oppas!!" in tones so
stentorian that all the policemen and the whole staff of servants
on the premises came flying to the spot, thinking that some dreadful
accident had happened. Even the sentries, who were on duty, heroically
brought their muskets to the charge against some imaginary foe;
and, in this martial attitude, resolutely stood awaiting the things
which might happen. Fair Laurentia was at the time very busy in the
pandoppo discussing with her kokkie the mysteries of a fricasseed
chicken. She also started up and came flying into the office while,
with trembling hand, she sought to adjust her kabaja.

"What is the matter? What is the matter?" she cried.

But, before the Resident had time to reply, and before he had
despatched his note to the officer in command of the garrison, the
deputy-recorder walked up the steps of the gallery.

The moment he saw him, van Gulpendam knew that he was the bearer of
some tidings, and, not able to restrain his impatience, he ran to
meet him, impetuously crying out, "What is the matter, Mr. Thomasz?"

"Resident, I have come to inform you that the court has risen and
stands adjourned for a week."

"What? adjourned? After what my secretary told me? Have the members
refused to sit? Splendid fellows those natives!"

"No, no, Resident, by your leave--the chiefs did not refuse at all."

"Didn't they? Then how did it come about?"

"I will tell you, Resident. When Mr. Zuidhoorn was about to open the
proceedings and when he spoke the words: 'Usher, clear the court and
see that it be not further disturbed,' he found that the usher had
disappeared altogether."

"The usher disappeared?"

"Yes, Resident, he had got out of the way."

Van Gulpendam's face beamed with satisfaction.

"But," said he, "that would hardly put a stop to the proceedings?"

The secretary here interposed and said:

"As I was leaving the court I ordered the usher to write, from my
dictation, a paper summoning Mr. Zuidhoorn and all the members of
the court to clear out of the premises."

"Sharp practice that!" remarked van Gulpendam.

"Do you not approve of my conduct, Resident?"

"Of course, most certainly I do; but what took place next?"

"The poor devil of an usher was so utterly dumfoundered that he could
not hold a pen, and it was no use therefore to dictate anything to
him. I then gave him the message to deliver verbally."

"Yes--and then?" asked van Gulpendam.

"Then I came away to tell you."

"But I suppose," continued van Gulpendam--"you, Mr. Thomasz, will be
able to tell us what happened?"

"When the usher again entered the court," resumed the deputy-recorder,
"he stammered forth a few incoherent and utterly unintelligible words,
to which Mr. Zuidhoorn did not pay the slightest heed. He brought
his hammer down, declared the session open, and turned to the chief
djaksa to request him to read out the first charge."

"What case was it, Mr. Thomasz?" asked van Gulpendam with some
curiosity.

"Oh, it was some case of coffee-stealing, sir, some old woman--"

"Oh yes, all right, go on!"

"Yes," continued the deputy-recorder, "Mr. Zuidhoorn might well
look--and he did open his eyes uncommonly wide, for the chief djaksa,
who, a moment or two before, was sitting by his side close to him,--he
too had vanished."

"Vanished?" Mr. van Gulpendam burst out laughing. "I can picture
to myself Mr. Zuidhoorn's face!" he cried. "Mr. Thomasz, you are a
capital story-teller. Do go on--run off the log-line."

The deputy-recorder continued:

"They looked high and low for the djaksa; but he could not be found. So
one of the vice-djaksas had to be summoned. It was a curious thing
however, that, although a few minutes before two or three were present
in the pandoppo, they now had the greatest trouble to lay hands on
a single one."

"Oh!" interrupted van Gulpendam, "they managed to get one in tow
at last?"

"Yes, Resident."

"What a pity!" The exclamation escaped from the Resident's lips in
spite of himself.

"There was no harm done, however," continued Mr. Thomasz.

"How so? Go on with your tale."

"Well, sir, when Mr. Zuidhoorn told the vice-djaksa that he called
upon him to fill the place of the absent official, the poor fellow
most suddenly was seized with a violent fit of colic!"

"A fit of colic!" laughed van Gulpendam. "What fun, what fun!"

"Yes, and so severe was the poor fellow's attack that he made the
most extraordinary grimaces--in fact it literally doubled him up."

"Oh how rich--how very rich!" cried van Gulpendam still laughing
immoderately.

"And, at length--with both hands to his stomach--was compelled to
rush out of the room."

"With both hands!" shouted van Gulpendam, "come anchor,
anchor! Thomasz, you will be the death of me."

The deputy-recorder looked around with much gravity--never before in
all his official career had he had such success as a low comedian,
and, thinking he might venture further, he resumed:

"Aye--but--Resident, that was not the funniest part of it."

"Not? well give way--full speed ahead!"

"No, Resident, the funniest part of the whole business was
Mr. Zuidhoorn's face. That's what you ought to have seen. He sat there,
with his mouth wide open, scowling over his spectacles which hung down
low on his nose, after the retreating figure of the colic-stricken
djaksa; and, in his loose gown, he looked for all the world like an
old gingham umbrella in a cover much too big for it."

"That will do! that will do! Mr. Thomasz," grinned van Gulpendam,
"you have told your story splendidly!"

The deputy-recorder made a low bow in acknowledgment of the compliment.

"And what happened next?"

"Why then, Resident, nothing could happen--there was no djaksa,
no usher of the court--so the session could not go on. The members
present were smiling and were beginning to look at their watches;
evidently they had had quite enough of sitting there to no purpose. So
Mr. Zuidhoorn had no option--he brought down his hammer and adjourned
the court for a week. Thereupon I hurried off at once to bring you
the news."

"And capitally you have done it, Mr. Thomasz! I am much obliged to
you--at the proper time I will repay your zeal."

As soon as the deputy-recorder had left, van Gulpendam turned to
his secretary who, with folded arms, had stood listening to the
conversation.

"Our object, you see, has been attained--now to take advantage of the
fair tide. You must take care that all the documents are ready in good
time--next week I purpose to take the chair myself at the assizes."

"Everything shall be in readiness, sir," replied the secretary;
"but will you allow me to make one remark?"

"By all means, secretary--fire away!"

"The whole of this business seems to me to be a very serious game."

"How so?" exclaimed van Gulpendam, "do you think I am afraid of
burning my hands in cold water?"

"What I mean, Resident, is this. It is a very lucky chance indeed
that Mr. Zuidhoorn happened to disregard your injunction and that he
was thus compelled to adjourn the court for another week."

"Well!" cried van Gulpendam impatiently, "cut it short."

"If he had not done so," continued the secretary, "you would this
day have presided--would you not?"

"Certainly, and then we should have settled matters by this time."

The secretary scratched his ear.

"Resident," said he thoughtfully, "are you sure of Mr. Meidema?"

"Sure of Meidema? what has he to do with it?"

"The opium-haul they made at Moeara Tjatjing," continued the secretary,
"is a pretty valuable one. I fancy that Meidema is rather looking
forward to reaping some benefit from the confiscation which must
follow the sentence of the court."

"Has he told you so? Has he given you any hint to that effect?"

"Not exactly, Resident. But you must remember Mr. Meidema has a large
family to provide for; and it is whispered in Santjoemeh that he finds
some difficulty in making both ends meet. Indeed it would not surprise
me to hear that he is in debt. So, you see, a little windfall of that
kind would come in very handy."

"But," said van Gulpendam "he has no right to any such thing--the
law forbids it."

"You are quite right, Resident, nothing ever escapes your eagle eye;
but yet--'il y a des accommodements avec le ciel,' and therefore--"

"But how?" asked van Gulpendam testily.

"Look you, Resident, that I can't tell you--I don't know; but I fancy
some loophole could be found. In this particular case, for instance,
baboe Dalima is the real discoverer. Now supposing she, in order to
save her Ardjan, should hand over her share or part of it--and remember
she can have not the slightest idea of its value--to a third party?"

For a moment or two the Resident reflected, then with a smile he
turned to his secretary and said:

"Well--even if that were so--that does not explain to me why I should
distrust Mr. Meidema. As far as I can see, any hope of sharing in
the profits of the confiscated tjandoe would make him as pliable as
spun yarn."

"It is very possible, Resident, your judgment is seldom at fault;
but you must not lose sight of the 23rd clause of the opium-law. For
myself, I would not mind swearing that Mr. Meidema is shaping his
course with his eye on that particular clause. In the case which he,
as head of the local police, has drawn up, you will notice that though
he states the opium to have been found not far from the prisoner
Ardjan, yet he takes care to add that the Javanese came ashore in
a small surf-boat which could not possibly have conveyed so large
a quantity, and which, moreover, was dashed to pieces by the waves;
whereas the packages discovered show no trace whatever of having been
in contact with water."

"Is that mentioned in his report?"

"Yes, Resident, it is, and there is something else. He draws attention
to the fact that the schooner brig Kiem Pin Hin was seen cruising
about off the coast on the night in question, and that the cutter of
the Matamata gave chase to a boat of the smuggling vessel."

"Did you read that report?" asked van Gulpendam who now began to be
really alarmed. "Very possibly you are on the right tack," the Resident
muttered rather than said. "Now, Mr. Secretary, be kind enough to
hand me Mr. Meidema's report as soon as ever it reaches our office,
and further send an oppasser to request that gentleman, in my name,
to step over here at once."

This, of course, was a dismissal in optimâ formâ.

When van Gulpendam found himself alone he looked up the act of 1874
and said:

"The secretary mentioned clause 23 I think. Let us see. Oho! a fine
of one thousand to ten thousand guilders! And, when I come to consider
how, on the evening of the occurrence, Mr. Meidema laid stress upon the
exact value of the capture of tjandoe--Yes, then I am driven to confess
that our secretary may perhaps be in the right channel after all."

He sprang up from his seat, and with rapid steps began to walk up
and down the gallery.

"Oh!" cried he gnashing his teeth with vexation--"all this bother
brought on by that wretched fellow van Nerekool! Oh--if Anna would
but consent!"








CHAPTER XXIV.

PARENTS v. DAUGHTER; DUTY v. AUTHORITY.


Yes, if Anna would but consent! But, that was the very thing she
would not do.

After both her parents, who were so strangely unlike their high-minded
child, had employed every means in their power to induce Anna to join
their conspiracy by using the influence she had over van Nerekool, the
girl had replied: "No, never!" just as firmly and just as resolutely as
Charles himself had uttered those words in reply to Mrs. van Gulpendam
in the garden of the Residence.

"No, never, never!" said the true-hearted girl as emphatically as it
was possible to pronounce the words.

"But remember," cried Laurentia, "his whole career depends upon the
attitude you choose to assume in this matter!"

"Charles shall never condescend to seek promotion by stooping to a
mean, dishonourable action," was the girl's reply.

"Anna!" shouted the Resident, in a furious rage, "take care what you
say! I advise you to keep some check upon your tongue!"

"For goodness sake, Gulpie," interposed Laurentia soothingly, "now do
be quiet--anger will not mend matters." And then turning again to her
daughter, she continued: "And Anna, I wish you not to lose sight of
the fact that the possibility of your union with van Nerekool depends
wholly on your present line of conduct."

"My union!" sadly exclaimed the poor girl.

"A woman who is really in love," continued her mother, "has a very
considerable amount of power to influence the man upon whom she has
set her affections."

"But, mother, do you then really wish me to try and persuade Charles
to lend himself to an infamous breach of duty?"

"Anna, don't go too far!" roared van Gulpendam, beside himself
with anger.

"Would you," continued Anna, "would you have me deliberately widen
the gap which is already growing between us? No, no, I shall not do
that. All joy has been swept out of my life for ever; and I have now
but one wish left, and that is that my image, pure and unsullied,
may continue to live in his memory. I can never become his wife,
that I know well; but my name at least shall remain with him as fair
and as spotless as the remembrance of a blissful dream!"

"But, Anna," persisted her mother, speaking in her most honeyed and
winning tones, "but, Anna, my dear girl, why should you talk thus? Why
should there be no joy for you in this life? Surely that is tormenting
yourself quite needlessly."

"Oh, mother!" cried the poor girl, "do spare me the pain and the
sorrow of having to utter words which will be most distressing to
you and most painful to my father to hear. No, no! Of happiness for
me there can be no further question--of a union with van Nerekool,
I must never again allow myself to think!"

"Ah," sighed Laurentia, "if you would but--"

"Yes, mother, just so, if I could but--But I will not. Suppose,
for a moment, that Charles were weak enough to yield to my
persuasion. Suppose I could succeed in talking him over, and could get
him to consent to your proposals. Why then, from that very moment,
every tender feeling would be wiped clean out of my breast. If such
a thing ever could be--why then, I would utterly despise a man who
is ready to offer up his duty to his inclination; and who could be
base enough to stoop to a crime, in order to win the girl upon whom
he has set his heart."

"Anna, not another word!" cried van Gulpendam, in the most threatening
accents.

"But, father," she continued, "surely I ought to tell you what
my feelings are. I must give utterance to thoughts which seem to
choke me! As certainly as I know that I wish him to keep a pure and
stainless memory of me--so surely am I convinced that he also, on his
part, desires nothing more fervently than that his name should dwell
with me, as it does now, great, noble, and strictly upright! Oh, I
could not, indeed, bear to face the life of utter desolation, which
would be in store for me were I compelled to despise him whom now,
above all human beings, I look up to as noble and great. No, no,
if such a thing could ever come to pass--then my misery would be too
great a burden to bear! Come what will, the memory of Charles shall
always remain unsullied in my heart."

Mrs. van Gulpendam could but heave a deep sigh, while her husband
was trembling with suppressed rage.

At length he exclaimed, in the tones of a man who has fully made up
his mind, "Let us cut this short, it has lasted too long. I take it
then, Anna, that you absolutely and finally refuse to accede to your
mother's suggestion?"

"Yes, father--I do refuse most positively," said Anna, in a tone not
one whit less resolute than her father's.

"Mind, you are utterly spoiling all his prospects in life," said van
Gulpendam, warningly.

"Better that," was her reply, "much better, than that I should rob
him of his honour."

"It makes your marriage with him impossible."

"I know it but too well," sighed Anna, "but I cannot help that--the
fault of that lies with my parents."

"How can you make that out?" exclaimed Laurentia.

"He cannot, and he never shall, marry the daughter of parents who
could venture to make him such infamous proposals!"

"Anna!" roared her father, "you are utterly forgetting yourself--it is
time we should have no more of this. A girl who dares to make use of
such language to her parents shows herself unworthy of them. I fully
intended to put an end to this nonsensical love-story altogether. It
has, indeed, already compromised you. I intended to send you away,
for a while, on a visit to Karang Anjer; and I meant you to start on
your journey next week. Now, however, I change my mind; and you must
be off at once--to-morrow morning."

"To-morrow morning!" exclaimed Laurentia. "What will the Steenvlaks
say to this sudden change of plan?"

"Assistant Resident Steenvlak," replied her husband, "has been suddenly
called away to Batavia. He has been obliged to leave Mrs. Steenvlak
and her daughters at Karang Anjer, and, as he may be away from home
for a considerable time, the family will no doubt be glad enough to
have someone to stay with them during his absence. However that may
be, Anna will, I am sure, be welcome. I am going to my office this
moment and will at once send off a telegram to Karang Anjer. To-morrow
morning Anna will start for Poerworedjo, a friend of mine will be
there to meet her, and he will take her on in his carriage to the
Steenvlaks. She will travel by way of Koetoe Ardjo and Keboemen."

Laurentia heaved a deep sigh. "We shall have but very little time to
get her things ready," said she. The remark itself and still more
the way she made it, showed plainly enough that the bother of this
sudden departure touched her much more nearly than the separation
from her child.

"Oh! mother," said Anna as quietly as possible, "pray leave all that
entirely to me. I shall be quite ready to start to-morrow, as early
as ever you please."

"Do you intend her to stay long with the Steenvlaks?" asked Laurentia.

"That will very much depend upon herself," was van Gulpendam's
reply. "I don't want to see her face again, unless she consents to
return in a much more submissive mood, and is prepared to behave in
a dutiful and becoming manner to her parents."

As he uttered these words, van Gulpendam glanced at his daughter
hoping--perhaps expecting--that he might detect in her some signs
of relenting. But, though she was deadly pale, Anna did not betray
the feelings which were stirring within her. On her placid features
there was no trace either of irresolution or of defiance; there was
nothing but quiet determination and settled purpose.

"You have, I presume," continued the Resident, "well weighed and
thoroughly understood what I said?" He rose and prepared to go to
his office.

"Certainly, father, I have understood you perfectly. To-morrow morning
I leave this house never to set foot in it again. Even if you had not
so decided, I myself would have insisted upon an immediate separation."

"Oh, ho! Does the wind sit in that quarter? And pray, may I be
allowed to ask my proud and independent daughter what plans she may
have formed for the future? She surely must be aware that she cannot
quarter herself for an indefinite period of time upon the Steenvlaks?"

Van Gulpendam, as he put the question, assumed a tone and manner in
the highest degree offensive and taunting.

But Anna would not allow herself to be ruffled and, in the calmest
possible way she replied:

"You ask me, father, what are my plans for the future, and I must
beg you to allow me to keep my intentions to myself. For the present
moment I gladly accept the hospitality of the Steenvlaks. You know
how fond I am of the two girls and how much I respect and admire
their mother. But, as to the future, my plans are, at present, I
must confess, very vague. I do not very well know what to say about
them; and, even if I were ever so anxious to give you my confidence,
I could hardly tell you what I intend to do. Of one thing, however,
you may rest assured--whatever may happen, I shall never again be a
source of trouble or expense to you."

"Indeed!" replied van Gulpendam, still in his sneering
tone. "Indeed! And so my daughter seems to fancy that she can step
out into the wide world without a penny in her pocket! I am very
curious to learn what impressions she may have formed of that world."

"You must pardon me, father," replied the young girl still very
quietly; "but now you compel me to touch upon a subject which I feel
is a very delicate one. You have given me an education which has but
very poorly fitted me to provide for my own maintenance. Yes--I might,
perhaps, earn something by giving music lessons; but here in Java I
could not well do so without casting a reflection upon your name. To
go to Holland and there have to roam about the streets in search of
employment--the very thought is repugnant to my feelings. But all
these are matters for future consideration."

"Oh, you think so?" sneered van Gulpendam, "for future
consideration! Now, it appears to me, that in such schemes, the earning
of money ought to be the first and most important consideration."

"Such being your opinion," replied Anna with a sigh, but no less
resolutely and calmly than before, "I must now come to business. I
did not think I should ever have had to speak to you on this
subject at all--indeed the matter would never have crossed my lips,
had not necessity compelled me to speak out freely. Two years ago,
you remember, we received the news that Grandmamma van Gulpendam had
died at Gouda. The same mail which brought us the sad tidings of her
death, brought me a letter forwarded by her lawyer. In that letter the
dear old lady took a most affectionate leave of me and told me how
much she regretted that she had never had the opportunity of seeing
me or becoming acquainted with me. She informed me further that,
in her will, she had left me the sum of 30,000 guilders, and that,
as soon as I was nineteen, the money would be at my disposal. She
begged me, however, not to mention the matter to you as she did not
wish to deprive you of the pleasure of giving me that surprise on my
nineteenth birthday. Her lawyer merely added a few words confirming
my grandmother's communication; and he went on to tell me that he had
invested the capital in the 4 1/2 per cents, and that, by the express
desire of the deceased, the money was not to be realised. Well,
the interest of this sum, which is mine and which you will hardly
refuse to give me, is amply sufficient for my present wants. Next
year I shall be nineteen and I shall then have the power to dispose
of the capital. By that time I shall have made up my mind as to the
manner in which I can most usefully employ it."

All this, the young girl spoke so naturally and so quietly that
both her parents, who latterly had gained some insight into the
character of their daughter, understood perfectly well that they
had to deal with a resolution which nothing could shake. They were,
indeed, greatly surprised to find that Anna was so well informed as
to the dispositions which her grandmother had made in her favour;
but they felt that denial or resistance to her claim were alike
impossible. Indeed her better nature began to prevail over the mother,
and tears stood in her eyes as she said:

"Anna! poor child! what a terrible future you are laying up for
yourself!"

"Mother," was the girl's reply, "a future more terrible than that
which must await me here, I cannot possibly conceive. What worse
misfortunes can overtake me? I defy Fortune to be more cruel to me
in the time to come than she has already shown herself in the past."

At these words van Gulpendam rose from the seat he had resumed. He
put his hand to his throat as if to clear away something which was
rising there and threatened to choke him. But, his was a tyrannical
nature, and he at once repressed the natural emotion which, he feared,
might overcome him. The very consciousness, indeed, of the fact that
his child was so much purer, so much better and stronger than he was
himself, was unbearable to him.

"Yes! yes!" he exclaimed, "that is all mighty fine--very fine and very
romantic! Unfortunately it lacks common sense. We have now said all
we have to say to each other and the upshot of it is that I stick
to my resolution; and that to-morrow morning early, you leave for
Karang Anjer."

"I am not aware, father," said the girl with much dignity, "I am not
aware that I have made any attempt to alter your decision."

"Very good, that settles the matter!" cried van Gulpendam, and then,
with concentrated fury in his voice, he continued: "We shall find
some way of breaking that little temper."

These were his parting words as he turned to go.



On the morrow of this most painful interview, just as day was about
to dawn, a carriage stood waiting at the steps of the residential
mansion. It was one of those light conveyances drawn by four horses
which Europeans often use in the interior of Java where railways are
unknown, and which are well suited to traverse long distances along
broken roads and steep mountain paths. Under the back seat of this
vehicle was strapped a small travelling bag, only just big enough
to contain a few necessary articles of clothing. Anna had made up
her mind that she would not take away with her out of her father's
house any single thing but what was strictly necessary. Even that she
would have left behind, but for the consideration that the interest
of the money left her by her aunt which, for the last two years,
had not been paid to her, amply sufficed to cover the value of the
few things she packed up. Not a single jewel, not one silk dress,
not the least bit of lace, did that little bag contain. She carefully
left all those superfluities behind her, and would carry away nothing
but a little underclothing and a couple of plain muslin dresses.

The small travelling trunk had scarcely been strapped into its place
before Anna herself appeared in the front gallery. She was clad with
the utmost simplicity in a black dress, and dark-coloured bonnet. There
was on her person nothing whatever to catch the eye but the plain
linen collar and the cuffs round her wrists, and these narrow strips
of white seemed only to increase the demureness and earnestness of
her appearance. As she thus prepared to leave her parents' home,
she was alone, not a soul was by to comfort her. The rosy dawn was
casting its friendly light over the garden, upon the shrubs, the
flowers, the leaves, and even over the furniture of the verandah;
and the young girl cast a yearning, sorrowful glance upon all these
familiar objects which awakened so many memories in her breast. For an
instant it seemed as if she hesitated; but it was only for an instant,
for hastily brushing away the tears which were silently stealing down
her cheeks, she sprang upon a splendid Devoniensis which was growing
against the balustrade, and hastily plucked one just opening bud which
she put into her bosom as she muttered with a sob: "My darling flower,
you shall go with me into exile!" and the next moment she had jumped
into the carriage which immediately started.

Not another sigh, not another look. The final separation was thus
accomplished. The vehicle rumbled heavily through the massive
and highly ornamented gates, and then with all speed made for the
hill-country of the interior of Java. Anna meanwhile throwing herself
back in the carriage gave way to sad reflections.

But all the while, hidden by the Venetian blinds, Anna's mother had
been standing and watching her daughter with feverish anxiety. She
had caught the desolate expression in Anna's eyes as she glanced
around upon all those familiar objects which from childhood had been
so dear to her; she had seen the girl plucking that rosebud, and her
eyes had eagerly followed her as she sprang into the carriage. Then a
hoarse cry escaped from her lips, "My God, my God," she sobbed, "has
it come to this? Where there was everything to ensure happiness! How
will all this end?"

Aye indeed; how was it all to end? That was a question to which the
future was to give a terrible answer.

Late on that afternoon, Anna arrived at a small dessa in the interior,
and left her carriage while a change of horses was being made. She
asked the postmaster if he would allow her to sit down and rest awhile
in his bamboo verandah, and he very readily granted her request. Then
she drew forth her writing materials and was soon wholly absorbed in
the work of writing a letter. For a few moments she sat irresolute,
her pale and careworn face plainly enough showing that she had a most
difficult and serious task before her. First she heaved a deep sigh;
then two big, burning tears slowly trickled down and fell heavily on
the paper before her. But at length, by degrees she appeared to be
carried away by her subject, and she wrote on in feverish haste. Yes,
the subject of that letter was indeed to the young girl a serious and
difficult one; for she was composing her last letter to her lover van
Nerekool. In the condition of utter loneliness in which she then was,
she laid bare her whole soul to him, and, although words thus written
were intended to meet the eye only of him to whom they were addressed;
yet the novelist is guilty of no indiscretion if he should glance
over the young girl's shoulder to gain an insight into her feelings
and thus give the motive for her actions. The letter was not a very
long one; yet it cost poor Anna a great deal of anxious thought.

"Mr. van Nerekool," she wrote, "from the evening when we met on the
occasion of the ball at the Residence, I have, in spite of all your
endeavours to obtain another interview, purposely avoided seeing
you again. On that occasion you asked me to become your wife, and
I allowed you to speak to my parents on the subject. Under those
circumstances you were no doubt perfectly justified in seeking for
further intercourse with me, and it is for this reason that I now
address these last words to you. After I left you in the garden, you
had a long interview with my mother, and it was not until the following
morning that I learned what had been the subject of conversation
between you. Pardon me, Mr. van Nerekool, for I know that a child
ought not to criticise the actions of her parents; but it is that
conversation and the fact that my father endorses everything my mother
then said, that makes my union with you impossible. Yours is an upright
and loyal nature, and you cannot and must not think of making me your
wife after the infamous proposals which have been made to you. You will
say perhaps that a child is not guilty of the actions of her parents
and cannot be held responsible for them. In that you are perfectly
right, and I must tell you that my conscience is as clear, and that,
if in my present forlorn condition I may be allowed so to speak, I, at
this present moment, hold up my head as high as before I knew anything
of my mother's designs. But to be always face to face with the man to
whom the odious propositions were made; to be ever conscious, even in
our tenderest moments, of the fact that I was flung to the man I love
as the price of dishonour, that is a prospect which to me is utterly
unendurable. You are a gentleman, and, as such, you would, no doubt,
always have treated my parents with deference and with the proper show
of respect; but to know that all this must be a mere empty show put
on in deference to a daughter's natural affections, O Charles!--allow
me for the last time to call you by that dear name--O Charles! that
would have made life an intolerable burden to me, and must inevitably,
in the end, have destroyed your happiness also.

"I am writing these words to you from Sapoeran where I am resting for
a few minutes while we are changing horses. You have, no doubt, heard
that I am going on to Karang Anjer to stay with the Steenvlaks. My
father, I know, has proclaimed that fact loudly enough and it must
have come to your ears. Yes! I am now on my way to that lonely
retreat; but that is only the first stage on the long and difficult
road which lies before me. Do you ask what I intend to do? Well,
my dear friend, I myself do not yet know what my future course will
be. It is most probable that I shall try and get away to Europe,
or perhaps to Australia. This much, however, is quite certain;
that after my visit to the Steenvlaks I shall disappear altogether;
for the very name of van Gulpendam has become hateful to me. But,
Charles, when I shall have vanished, when even my very name shall no
longer be mentioned, and I shall be as one over whom the grave has
closed; then, I know, you will be generous enough to give a thought
now and then to the poor girl who, innocent of even a thought of evil,
would have esteemed herself only too happy to have been able to call
herself yours; but for whom such happiness was not reserved. One
request I have to make. Do not lose sight of Dalima. I know her sad
condition. I know all about it. I know more about her misfortunes,
at least as far as its authors are concerned, than you can do. But,
for my sake, I know you will not leave that unhappy girl to her
fate. I have no doubt that on the pretended accusation of opium
smuggling, she will be found guilty, and condemned. I know it but
too well! With our false notions of right and wrong, whenever opium
enters into any question, no other result is, I fear, possible. But,
oh! I beg of you, do not abandon her. Do not allow her, when once she
regains her freedom, to sink into that pool of infamy into which all
her countrymen inevitably fall, when, guilty, or not guilty, they
have once come under the ban of our criminal law. And now, dearest
Charles, farewell! In this world we shall meet no more. I will not,
I cannot, ask you to forget me, a passing thought you will sometimes
bestow upon her who now will bear no other name than

"Anna."

This letter the poor girl put into the hands of the postmaster,
and it was sent off in due course though not so soon as she wished;
for in those inland parts the mail goes out but twice a week.

Although the distance between Sapoeran and Poerworedjo was not very
great, yet the sun had fairly set before the carriage reached the
latter place. Anna put up at the hotel, and, after having partaken of
some refreshment, she lay down thoroughly wearied out by the journey,
and fortunately she was soon fast asleep.

After this short digression which the thread of our story required,
we return to the Residence at Santjoemeh.

When the secretary left the room, Resident van Gulpendam had bitterly
exclaimed: "Oh, if Anna would but consent!"

For a while he seemed lost in thought and sat turning over in his
mind how matters would have stood if Anna could have persuaded van
Nerekool to give way, and if he, on the conditions proposed to him,
had been appointed President of the court.

"Well!" he muttered at length, "it can't be helped. However, we shall
manage I suppose to weather this Norwester and to get our boat safe
into harbour."

"But," he continued, "what did the secretary mean by alluding to that
clause in the opium-law? Let me see, which was it? Oh yes, I have it,
clause 23. Just let us have another look at it!"

Herewith he took up the bundle of papers which he had replaced among
other documents on the ledge over his writing-table. For some time
he fingered the pages, turning them over impatiently, at length he
exclaimed: "Oh, here we are! No. 228. Now let us see, clause 23--'All
offences committed against the regulations herein laid down to which
no special penalties are attached, are punishable by a fine of one
thousand to ten thousand guilders for every hundred katies of opium
or under, and of one hundred guilders for every additional katie?' By
Jove! the fellow is right after all!--that's where the coast lies,
is it? We shall have to get out another anchor. It is not at all a
bad idea, but--"

"The inspector requests the honour of an interview with you Kandjeng
toean!" cried one of the oppassers, as he flung open the door to
announce Mr. Meidema.

"Show him in," was the reply.

"Resident," began the inspector as he entered, "I just now met your
secretary, and he told me that you wished to see me."

"Quite right, Mr. Meidema, pray be seated. I have just seen your report
on that smuggling business at Moeara Tjatjing; but I am surprised to
find that your statement does not at all agree with the actual facts
of the case."

"How is that, Resident?"

"No, Mr. Meidema, no it does not. Will you please try to recall our
conversation on the very evening of the discovery?" continued the
Resident with his eye steadily fixed upon his subordinate.

"I remember that conversation perfectly, Resident."

"Well," resumed van Gulpendam, "if my memory serves me, I then pointed
out to you--and I did so by means of witnesses--that the opium was
found in the possession of the Javanese called Ardjan. At the time
you seemed to agree with me."

"Certainly, Resident, I did not just then venture to contradict the
opinion you had formed, and which you so positively stated as your
conviction. It was, however, my duty to investigate the matter--"

"And?"--interrupted van Gulpendam.

"And the result of that investigation has led me to the conclusions I
have embodied in the report of the case which, as head of the police,
it was my duty to draw up."

"Yes," hastily said the Resident, "against all probability, and in
the teeth of the evidence!"

"By your leave, Resident," said Meidema, "the report--"

"Shall I tell you," broke in van Gulpendam, "shall I tell you to what
your investigation has led you?"

But Mr. Meidema, carried away by his argument, paid no heed to the
question, and continued:

"The report, for the matter of that, is not binding upon the court."

"That's a good job too," said van Gulpendam, somewhat sarcastically;
"but I asked you just now to what your inquiry has led you."

"To what it has led me, Resident?" replied Meidema. "I think that is
a very strange question, coming from you. I have, as I was in duty
bound, held an inquiry simply for the sake of arriving at the truth."

"Of course, Mr. Meidema, that is supposed to be the object of every
inquiry; but I think that this particular investigation may have led
you to a somewhat different result."

"What may that be, Resident?" asked the other, calmly.

"It has led you to the discovery that the fines, which are to be
divided among the finders of the smuggled opium, can more easily be
recovered from the wealthy farmer than from the poor Javanese fellow
out of which no one can screw anything at all."

"Resident!" cried Meidema, "such language--"

"Mr. Meidema, pray be calm. My words merely express the impression
which your report has made upon my mind."

"But, Resident, I have nothing whatever to do with the fines. They
are no business of mine. I am perfectly acquainted with the law on
the subject, and I really do not know what meaning I must attach to
your insinuations."

"Oh, come," said van Gulpendam scornfully, "do you think I am not up
to all the dodges by which the law may be evaded?"

"Resident," said Meidema, indignantly, "I must really request you
to modify your opinion of me. I never have stooped to any of the
dodges you think fit to allude to. Not a single penny of the fines,
not a single grain of the opium has ever come into my hands. And,
allow me to say, that if you do not feel thoroughly convinced that
when I say so I speak the bare truth--why then the office you hold
compels you to lodge an accusation against me at head quarters."

"Mr. Meidema," said van Gulpendam, coolly, "we are, I fear, wandering
away from our subject. You tell me that you have been holding an
inquiry--do you not? Now pray let me know, whose evidence may you
have heard?"

"Whose evidence? Why, in the first place that of the prisoner Ardjan--"

"Of course, he has told you that he has nothing to do with the matter,
that I can quite understand. Whom else did you examine?"

"I next took the evidence of baboe Dalima--"

"Oh, yes, she also is locked up on a charge of opium smuggling; she
has no doubt given her lover a most excellent character. Fine witnesses
those of yours, Mr. Meidema, I must say. Have you any others?"

"Yes," replied the Inspector, quietly, "I have examined the dessa
people who were that night pressed to assist in Ardjan's arrest."

"And?" cried van Gulpendam, impatiently. "Come, look sharp!"

"And their story contradicts, on almost every point, that of the
police oppassers."

"Of course it does, those dessa dogs always hang together; but all
that ought not to have satisfied you as Chief Inspector of Police."

"No, Resident, it ought not, I confess; and what is more, it has
not," continued Meidema. "When the evidence appeared to me so very
contradictory, I myself went down in person to Moeara Tjatjing,
to inspect the boat in which Ardjan is said to have brought the
opium ashore."

"And you found nothing?" inquired van Gulpendam.

"Oh, yes, Resident, I did. I found the surf-boat, and I am fully
satisfied that it was much too small to contain the captured opium."

"If I remember rightly, Mr. Meidema," observed van Gulpendam, "that
boat is said to have held two persons, Ardjan and Dalima?"

"Quite so, Resident."

"The boat then was large enough to hold those two, eh?"

"Yes, Resident, it might have done so; but there was room for nothing
more."

"But," asked van Gulpendam, "supposing now that baboe Dalima never
was in that boat at all--what would you say to that, Mr. Meidema?"

"Never in the boat at all, Resident!" exclaimed the other, in
astonishment.

"In that case," continued the Resident, "I suppose there might have
been room for the opium if carefully stowed away?"

"Well, yes, perhaps," said Meidema; "but the proof--"

"Oh, yes, the proof--I can find you proof enough. I myself can solemnly
declare that, during the whole of that night, baboe Dalima never left
my house at all. And not only so, but all the members of my family
are ready to declare as much."

"Well!" said Meidema, "then all I can say is that the case is beginning
to assume a very serious aspect."

"Why! What are you driving at now?" exclaimed van Gulpendam. "Come,
man, fire away!"

"I mean that your statement directly contradicts the word of your
daughter."

"My daughter--the chatter of a silly girl!"

"Not so, Resident," continued Meidema, very seriously, "I have in my
possession a formal statement in Miss van Gulpendam's own handwriting,
in which she gives a detailed account of baboe Dalima's abduction,
of her forcible detention on board the schooner brig Kiem Ping Hin,
and of her rescue by Ardjan."

Van Gulpendam turned pale at those words, he felt as if he had
received a stunning blow; Mr. Meidema, however, did not allow him
time to recover his composure, but continued:

"I have further in my possession the sworn testimony of the mate and
the crew of the coastguard ship Matamata, which proves that on the
night in question they manned the cutter in order to give chase to
a surf-boat which contained two persons. That they fired upon them;
but that they were compelled to give up the chase because of the
tremendous sea that was running at Moeara Tjatjing in which their
clumsy craft would have had no chance to keep afloat. Thus you
perceive, Resident, that there were actually two persons in that
boat, and that, consequently, there could have been no room for the
opium. Moreover--"

"What else?" broke in van Gulpendam, who was gradually recovering
from his surprise.

"Moreover, the surf-boat was dashed to pieces on the beach. I saw
the wreck lying partly in the water and partly covered with mud,
and I have witnesses to prove that the cases, in which the smuggled
opium was packed, had not been in contact with sea-water at all. No,
no, Resident, I am firmly persuaded that the stuff never came
ashore in that boat, and further, that Ardjan has had no hand in
the transaction."

For a few moments the Resident sat lost in thought.

"Mr. Meidema," he said at length, "have you, as you were bound to do,
employed an expert to ascertain the quantity, the quality, and the
particular kind of opium that was found?"

"Yes, Resident, I have done so."

"Have you secured the surf-boat itself?"

"Yes, Resident," replied Meidema, "I did so; but, owing to some strange
neglect for which I am unable to account, the watchman at the town
jail, who had charge of the boat and with whom I had deposited it
for safety, had broken up the boat and used the timber for firewood."

A smile flitted over van Gulpendam's features, as he muttered,
inaudibly: "I have found the leak, I can caulk it," and then, aloud,
he said: "That's a thousand pities--to whose negligence do you ascribe
that?--But, never mind, we can look into that some other time. Now,
Mr. Meidema, will you allow me to give you a piece of good advice?"

"Oh, Resident, you know, I am always most happy to receive good
advice," was the reply.

"Your finances," continued van Gulpendam, "are not in the most
flourishing condition, I think. Eh?"

"Resident!"

"You have a large family--and your expenses must be considerable. Well
then, my advice to you is this: Try and arrange matters quietly with
the opium farmer."

"What do you mean, Resident?" cried Meidema, in utter amazement.

"You are shrewd enough, Mr. Meidema, to understand my drift. Lim
Yang Bing is a wealthy man, and a kind, indulgent father. His son,
you know, is on the eve of making an excellent match. He won't be so
very particular just now as to what he pays."

"Resident!"

"And then," continued van Gulpendam, "another piece of advice let me
give you. Very luckily for you the court, which was to have sat to-day
and given judgment on that opium-case, has been adjourned. You see,
you have yet time to alter that report of yours; which, I must say,
appears to me to be drawn up with too much partiality."

"That I will never do!" cried Meidema, vehemently interrupting
his chief.

"Mr. Meidema," resumed van Gulpendam, "I am merely giving you friendly
advice. You have a large family--there are a good many mouths to
feed. However, think the matter over well."

"No, never, never, Resident!"

"Very well, in that case our interview may be considered at an end. But
don't be in a hurry, think it over well."

When Mr. Meidema had left, the Resident stood for a while gazing after
him. At length, hoarse with passion, he cried out: "That opposition
must be overcome."








CHAPTER XXV.

EVE'S DAUGHTERS AND THE SERPENT.


A couple of days after Mrs. Meidema was sitting with her two daughters
in one of the hinder galleries of her house. Our reader has already
made a slight acquaintance with the pretty pair of twins on the
occasion of the reception and ball at the Residence. They were now
sitting with their mother, very busy mending a heap of boys' clothing
which appeared to be in a deplorable state.

"It is too bad,--really it is shameful," said Gesina. "Now just do
look at this, mother,--why the sleeve is literally torn out of it,
and there is a huge rent right in the breast. I say, mother, do you
think that jacket is worth patching up?"

"To be sure it is, Sijntje," replied the mother, "now just you set
to work with a will."

"Those good-for-nothing boys!" cried Gesina, "they keep us stitching
for them all day long."

"Come, come," threw in her sister Matilda, "boys will be boys, and
ours are so full of spirits."

"That is no reason, I suppose," said Gesina, "why they should be
climbing trees all day, and get their clothes in such a frightful
state."

"How do you suppose a boy is to keep out of a tree?" asked Matilda. "If
I were a boy I would do just the same."

The mother smiled at her daughter's warm defence of her little
brothers. "Oh, yes," said she, "it would be a pretty sight to see
Matilda up a tree."

The two young girls had a laugh at the idea, and then Gesina said,
"Don't you think, mother dear, that you might get us a needlewoman
to help us with all this heap of clothes."

"My dear girl, what are you thinking about?" asked Mrs. Meidema.

"Well," continued Matilda, coming to her sister's help, "I must say
I think the idea a very good one."

"But, my dear girls, pray remember that a needlewoman would have to
be paid, and pray where is the money to come from?"

"Anna van Gulpendam," put in Matilda quickly, "I know always has
her needlewoman."

"No doubt she has," said Mrs Meidema; "but you must remember, Tilda,
that Anna is an only child, and that she is, moreover, the Resident's
daughter."

"Is there then very much difference, mother, between the income of
a Resident and that of an Assistant Resident."

"I should think so, indeed," replied Mrs. Meidema; "the Resident
draws fifteen hundred guilders a month at least, and your father has
at the most but five hundred."

"So much difference as that," said Matilda, seriously; "indeed I
never thought it was so much."

"And then, Tilda dear," continued her mother, "as I said before,
the Resident has but one daughter, and we have five children to
provide for."

"Are children very expensive?" asked Gesina.

"You can reckon it up for yourself, Sijntje--there is food to get and
clothing and school-fees and--oh, ever so many odds and ends besides."

"It is a pity!" sighed the girl, after a while.

"What is a pity?"

"It is a pity that boys are such an expensive luxury, for they are
jolly little fellows."

"Now did you ever hear such a girl?" laughed Mrs. Meidema, "first
she grumbles at the trouble those good-for-nothing boys give her,
and then she calls them jolly little fellows!"

"Well, mother dear, you must let me grumble a bit now and then,
I really can't help it when we have such a heap of boys' clothes to
mend," and with these words the young girl laid her fair head lovingly
on her mother's shoulder.

"Money is not everything," said Matilda, sententiously, as she kept on
stitching busily, while Mrs. Meidema was running her fingers through
her daughter's flowing curls.

The difference between her father's income and the pay of Resident
van Gulpendam led Matilda to make this philosophical remark.

"Of course not, Matilda," replied Gesina, "of course not; money is
not everything--look at us now, are we not happy?"

"Yes," said Matilda, "and to complete the comparison, could anyone be
happier even in the Residence itself? Oh, when I come to think over
what has happened, I cannot help feeling very sad. Poor, poor Anna!"

"Have you had any news from her?" asked Gesina, who by this time had
resumed her work.

"Yes, this morning I had a letter from Karang Anjer, such a wretchedly
sad letter. Knowing Anna's character as I do I can read despair
in every word, and I fear--oh, yes, I fear, the very worst--She is
capable, I do really think, of any desperate deed."

"But," cried Gesina, "what can be the matter with her?"

"I do not know the rights of it all," replied her sister. "On those
matters Anna is very reserved; but what I know is that her parents
will not consent to her marriage with van Nerekool."

"Oh, she will soon get tired of Karang Anjer, and then we shall have
her back again."

"I think not; indeed she writes to tell me that it is her intention
never to return. Her letter is so full of sorrow, so miserably
despondent, it reads to me like a last farewell--as it were a parting
for life. She writes to me as her best and truest friend, and beseeches
me not to cast a stone at her should her despair prompt her to a step
which will make the world scorn her memory. Mother dear, what am I
to do, what can I do to relieve her--I wish I could go to see her at
Karang Anjer!"

"My dear child," said Mrs. Meidema quietly, "the very best thing you
can do is to allude as little as possible, in your correspondence with
Anna, to her attachment to van Nerekool. She has, as you yourself say,
not taken you fully into her confidence; and from this you may conclude
that there exist secrets which you cannot, without indiscretion,
touch upon; and which it would only increase her pain to needlessly
pry into. Time is the great healer, and it must have its soothing
effect upon Anna in her distress. I know something of what has been
going on, and I am in hopes that things may yet turn out well."

"You know what has happened, mother?" cried Matilda, "do tell me all
about it. I am so dearly fond of Anna, that anything which concerns
her has, for me, the greatest interest."

"Matilda," replied Mrs. Meidema, "Anna, who I do not think herself
knows just how matters stand, has thought it right to keep silent
before you. She has, in my opinion, acted very wisely."

"But, mother!"

"Yes, I say, she has acted very wisely in this matter, for she might
perhaps have had to reveal to you a depth of wickedness which a young
girl may very well remain ignorant of. You must allow me to follow
her example. Just now you said, very wisely too, that money is not
everything in the world. You were quite right, it is not. There
now you see before you a family to which money is no object, which
possesses moreover all other requisites for happiness, such as health,
consideration, the highest position in our little society; and yet
you see there is no happiness. No, money is not everything--But yet--"

As she said it, the poor woman heaved a deep sigh. The fact that she
was sitting there with her daughters hard at work, showed plainly
enough that the earthly dross was not altogether so indifferent to
her as her words might seem to imply--and she hesitated to go on--her
girls looked up at her with an inquiring glance.

"But yet?" asked Gesina. "Pray finish what you had to say, mother."

"Well," continued Mrs. Meidema, "I had but very little to add; yet
a couple of hundred guilders a year more would greatly improve our
position. We have very heavy expenses to meet, we have a great deal
of money to find; and--"

The awning which separated the back-gallery from the grounds beyond,
and sheltered it from the glaring light outside, was here suddenly
flung aside, admitting a dazzling flood of sunlight which made the
three ladies look up in surprise.

"Babah Lim Yang Bing wishes to speak with the master," said one of
the servants.

"But your master is not in, he is at his office," replied Mrs. Meidema,
"you know that as well as I do."

"I told the babah so, njonja," said the man.

"Well?"

"He wishes to speak to the njonja."

Mrs. Meidema made a gesture of impatience. But Lim Yang Bing,
the wealthiest Chinaman in the residence of Santjoemeh--perhaps the
richest man in all Dutch India--was not the kind of man who could very
well be turned away. It was, moreover, no very unusual thing for him
to come and pay his respects to the ladies and, on such occasions,
he generally had some pretty little nick-nacks to show.

"Very well, show him in," said Mrs. Meidema.

The needle-work had in all haste to be put away and concealed, and
some light fancy work had to be snatched up; for it would never do
to let that Chinaman see a European family employed in such drudgery.

"Tabeh njonja, tabeh nonna nonna. Saja halap--"

But we will not attempt to reproduce the Chinaman's execrable
Malay. In fact it would hardly be possible to do so, as the men of
his nationality find the greatest difficulty to pronounce some of the
consonants, and their talk is often extremely difficult to understand.

"Good-morning, madam; good-morning, young ladies," said he most
courteously, "I hope I am not intruding. I thought I might have found
the Assistant Resident at home; but since I am not so fortunate, I
take the liberty of paying my respects to the ladies--in the first
place to inquire after their health, and also to tell them a great
piece of news."

"News?" asked Mrs. Meidema, who like most women did not lack
curiosity. "Pray be seated, babah."

And, turning to the native servant who was sitting cross-legged on
the steps of the gallery, she said:

"Todrono, bring a chair."

As the Chinaman took his seat, the two girls looked at him with
wonder-waiting eyes.

"And now, babah, for your important news!" said Mrs. Meidema, somewhat
eager to hear it.

"First," said Lim Yang Bing with another bow, "allow me to inquire
after the state of the ladies' health."

"Oh, thank you," replied Mrs. Meidema, "we are all perfectly well."

"Toean Allah be praised," cried the Chinaman in high-flown tones,
but with the sweetest of smiles on his lips.

"Now for your news, babah!" cried Gesina impatiently.

"Yes, nonna, I don't wonder at your curiosity, you are quite right,
the young ladies especially will enjoy it."

"But, babah, do pray speak out, tell me what it is all about," cried
Matilda as eagerly as her sister.

"Well," said the Chinaman, "it is about a wedding."

"A wedding!" exclaimed one.

"A Chinese wedding?" asked the other.

"Yes, ladies, yes, a Chinese wedding, as you say," replied Lim Yang
Bing, laying as much stress as he could upon his words.

"Delightful!" cried both the young girls.

"And who may the happy couple be?" asked Mrs. Meidema somewhat more
soberly.

"I may not tell you that, nja."

"Oh!" said Gesina with much disappointment in her voice, "then it is
not decided yet."

"Yes," replied Lim Yang Bing, "it is quite certain; it is so far
decided indeed that I have samples of the silk with me now."

"Samples of the silk!" cried both the young girls in a breath.

"Yes, the samples of silk. You surely must have heard, young ladies,
that on such occasions the betrothed couple always make some little
presents to the invited guests. And since you ladies will, I hope,
honour me by witnessing the ceremony, I have ventured to bring the
samples along with me. Very fine silk indeed; I ordered it on purpose
from Nan Hioeng. But you must judge for yourselves, ladies."

Therewith he produced a small parcel which he carefully unfastened
and the contents of which he displayed to the women's admiring gaze.

"Oh!" cried Gesina, "just look at that lovely green shot with red! what
a charming dress that would make!"

"And," exclaimed Matilda, "what a splendid blue! Dark blue with
flowers. If I had to choose, I would--"

"And will not Mrs. Meidema make her choice?" asked Lim Yang Bing.

Mrs. Meidema could not help casting an eye upon the seductive parcel
but--she hesitated.

"Come, come, pray select a sample for yourself, madam," said the
Chinaman with a supplicating look.

"But--babah--" she began, "I have never heard of gifts offered at
Chinese weddings. I know they are customary at the New Year."

"Yes, yes njonja, you are quite right, on that occasion we offer
gifts all round to all our acquaintances; but at a wedding we only
do so to our old friends, and--I take the liberty of reckoning the
Assistant Resident among my very good friends."

"Yes, but babah, you know Mr. Meidema, do you not?"

"Surely the njonja would not refuse my poor little present,"
interrupted the Chinaman.

"Oh, mother, dear!" whispered Gesina beseechingly.

"No, babah, I will not downright refuse; but before coming to any
decision or making any choice, I must have a talk to my husband."

"Of course, of course," hastily said Lim Yang Bing, "that is nothing
more than right and proper. It makes matters, in fact, easier for me,
as perhaps, madam, you would not mind to intercede for me with the
Assistant Resident."

"Intercede for you, babah!" cried Mrs. Meidema now thoroughly
surprised. "You know that my intercession has but very little influence
with my husband."

The Chinaman smiled--it was a cunning leer, as he said:

"No, no, madam, I did not mean you to intercede for me--I cannot
have expressed myself properly--what I meant was--to intercede for
the bridegroom."

"For the bridegroom?" asked Mrs. Meidema. "Oh, yes; but who is the
happy man, babah?"

"Madam, that is a secret--However, I may just as well tell you at
once; as soon as you know who he is I feel sure I can reckon upon
your sympathy. Well, the happy man, then, is my son Lim Ho."

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Meidema very coolly, "and who is the young lady?"

"Ngow Ming Nio."

"The daughter of Ngow Ming Than--is she not? A very pretty girl and
a very rich girl too--I am sure I congratulate you, babah."

"And now, may I reckon upon you, madam, to intercede for Lim Ho?" asked
the Chinaman.

"I do not see," said Mrs. Meidema, "in what Lim Ho can need my
intercession."

"Ah, well," sighed Lim Yang Bing, "I fear that the poor boy is not
in very good odour with the Assistant Resident. If only you would
speak a good word for him, madam."

"But why? His marriage can have nothing to do with Mr. Meidema."

"No, njonja; but--" said the Chinaman dropping his voice, "You see
there is something about an opium business in which the poor boy has
got mixed up."

"I will have nothing whatever to do with that sort of thing!" exclaimed
Mrs. Meidema now fairly frightened. "There, babah, please put those
samples up again."

The Chinaman was taken aback, he reluctantly rolled up the parcel
and slowly and deliberately put it into his pocket.

"But, njonja," he mumbled, "the poor fellow is as innocent as the
babe unborn."

"I won't hear anything about it, babah, not another word, please,
on the subject."

"If only the toean Assistant Resident would hear what he has to say,"
insisted Lim Yang Bing.

"Come, mother," whispered Gesina, who, to her infinite vexation saw
the splendid silk dress fading away on the horizon, "If father would
but hear what Lim Ho has to say for himself."

Mrs. Meidema again hesitated.

"Well," said she, "if my intercession is to go no further than that--I
can see no objection to ask my husband to do that."

"Mother, take care!" said Matilda in a very low but very warning voice.

"I am infinitely obliged to the njonja," said the Chinaman as he took
Mrs. Meidema's hand and gratefully pressed it. "I shall leave these
samples here with you--"

"Oh, no! no! I will have nothing to do with them."

"But, mother," whispered Gesina.

"Mother, take care!" said Matilda as softly.

Lim Yang Bing did not at all like these whisperings of the two young
ladies, and so he hastened to say: "My dear madam, I can assure you
that those poor samples have nothing in the world to do with your
pleading for my son. I have the honour of inviting you and your two
charming daughters--and of course, Mr. Meidema--to be present at my
son's marriage. There is not much harm in that I hope. I reckon you
among my good friends and, as an acknowledgment of the honour which
your presence will confer upon them, the young couple beg you to
accept a slight present. In that no one will see any harm I hope;
in fact it is simply our national custom. So far, I think we are
agreed. This small parcel of samples I will leave here in order that
the ladies may have time to make their choice and to talk over the
whole matter with the Assistant Resident when he comes in."

Put thus plausibly, the offer could hardly be refused. But even if
Mrs. Meidema had wished to make an objection she had no time to do so;
for the wily Chinaman had very hurriedly put down the parcel on the
table, had muttered his tabehs with a few hasty words to the effect
that he intended to look in again and ascertain what choice the ladies
had made, and then had disappeared.

When once the babah was fairly out of the place, the two young girls
looked at each other and at their mother.

Gesina with a smile on her pretty lips, Matilda with a very serious
expression of countenance.

"A Chinese wedding!" exclaimed the former. "No doubt there will be
a reception and then, what a splendid dance we shall have. When the
Chinese do give a party they know how to do it well!"

"Do keep quiet, Sijntje," said Mrs. Meidema. She spoke reprovingly,
although, as a loving mother, she was pleased to see her girl's radiant
looks. They had so few opportunities to go out, especially to such
parties as this promised to be. Once a year they got an invitation
to the Residence, and that was all.

"And how fine I shall look," continued the girl in her glee, "in my new
silk dress." She took the parcel from the table, "Oh, yes," said she,
"I have quite made up my mind, I choose the green silk. And you Tilda?"

"I don't know," replied the other, "but somehow, I feel that all this
bodes misfortune."

"Oh, I say, how very silly! Just look at these samples!" cried Gesina
as she opened the bundle. "Oh, what a splendid bit of brown silk--look
mother, dear, that is something for you! And that deep blue is Tilda's
choice; it is fine, yes it is very fine; but the green is to my mind
the best of all. Just look--But--But--what is that!"

Gesina was spreading the piece of silk on her knee in order to
bring out the fine effect of the colours. As she did so--something
slid out of the packet and fell at her feet. For a moment the three
ladies sat there as if petrified, for at a glance they had recognized
bank-notes--papers of five hundred guilders. At length Gesina stooped
and picked them up. She counted them, one, two, three--up to ten.

"Five thousand guilders!" she stammered in utter confusion. "How
could they have got into the parcel? It must be some mistake of the
babah's--surely he must have made some mistake."

"I feared as much!" thought Matilda almost aloud.

"Five thousand guilders!" The thought flashed through Mrs. Meidema's
brain as she took the parcel and the papers from her daughter's hand,
"Five thousand guilders!"

Her first impulse was to send at once after the babah and to call
him back--to give him his money, and to have him and his samples and
his notes kicked out of the house. Five thousand guilders! And the
Chinaman was already so far away. Five thousand guilders! Was it wise
to let the servants know all this--no certainly not--it would not be
wise. Five thousand guilders! It was about as much as her husband's
salary for ten months amounted to. She took up the notes, looked at
them, smoothed them down one by one, then rolled them together. Five
thousand guilders! That would pay all those troublesome tradesmen's
bills, and even then, when every farthing was paid, there would be a
nice little sum left. Then Meidema might get leave of absence for a
while to go into the hill-country. He wanted a change, lately he had
been looking very poorly--a couple of weeks' holidays in the hills
would quite set him up. Five thousand guilders! The boys might have
new jackets. All these thoughts however were cut short by the rumbling
of carriage wheels on the drive.

"That is father!" cried Gesina, "quick! put away those samples
and notes!"

She tried to seize them, she had already hastily rolled up the whole
parcel together and was about to hide it under the coarse needlework
with which they had been busy as the Chinaman came in. But her mother
took it from her and quietly laid it upon the table before her. The
voice of her husband was heard in the front gallery giving some orders
to his servant, and that voice had startled the good woman out of the
train of evil thoughts which had unconsciously risen up within her, and
which had threatened to lead her astray from the path of duty. No, no,
from the man by whose side she had courageously walked for the best
part of her life, she could have no secret; from him, whom she had
followed for so many years in weal and in woe, she would have nothing
hidden. She determined to lay everything open before her husband,
he might then act as he thought best. True, they were very poor;
but she felt that she must abide by his decision.

All these thoughts, in a moment of time, flashed through the mind
of this brave and loyal wife, and when Meidema walked into the
back-gallery her mind was fully made up.

The girls jumped up to give their father the usual kiss, the mother
also rose to welcome him. But Meidema saw, at a single glance, that
there was something wrong. He put his hands on his wife's shoulders
and steadily looking her in the face he said cheerily: "I say, mammy
dear--is there any news?"

"Yes, Meidema, there is," replied his wife gravely, "sit down, I have
something to tell you!"

"I say, old girl, you look very serious, are the girls in the way?"

"No, no, let them stay, I have no secrets that they may not hear--in
fact I prefer them to be here."

"My love, how solemn you are! Is there anything wrong? Anything to
do with them eh? Have they had an offer? No? Of course not, you would
not have looked so black if they had."

"Now pray," said his wife, "pray do not talk such nonsense."

"Oh, I see, it must be those boys! they have been naughty--trousers
torn, jackets in holes! Yes--those youngsters are an awful
nuisance--Never mind all that will come right by-and-by."

"All that will come right!"--At those words he stopped short, poor
man! his interview with the Resident then came to his memory and he
began restlessly to pace up and down the gallery. He took out his
cigar-case and looked at Matilda.

She jumped up, "May I light it for you, father?" she said.

She put the cheroot to her lips, lighted a match, and drew a few
whiffs. As the smoke went curling up her nostrils and into her eyes,
she made a funny little grimace--then she coughed slightly and closed
her eyes, and, when the cigar was well lighted, she gave it to her
father saying:

"Ah bah, horrid! How can you gentlemen like that nasty smoke?"

"Why you little minx!" said her father laughing, "you have lit it at
the wrong end!"

"It is more economical, father."

"Perhaps so; but that is why it tastes nasty."

"Well, father," said Matilda suddenly growing serious, "now please
sit down and attend to mother."

"Yes, Meidema, please sit down," said his wife; "I have to talk to
you on a most serious matter."

"All right, wifey--here I am seated--now I am all ears."

"Babah Lim Yang Bing has been here this morning!"

"Indeed!--I met him a few minutes ago, he greeted me most
politely--more politely in fact than usually."

"Do you know, Meidema, what he came here for?"

"What he came here for? Not I," replied the husband somewhat astonished
at his wife's words. The name of the opium-farmer had roused some
suspicion within him though he was unable to guess what his errand
might have been. "I suppose," said he, after a moment's pause,
"I suppose he merely dropped in to have a chat."

"Do you know," said Mrs. Meidema, "that his son Lim Ho is about to
be married?"

"Yes, I have heard some such rumour. To the daughter of that rich
old Chinaman--is it not?"

"Yes, father," interrupted Gesina, "to pretty little Ngow Ming Nio."

"Lim Yang Bing," continued Mrs. Meidema, "was here this morning to
invite you and me and the girls to the wedding."

"All right," replied Meidema, "the girls will have rare fun; I daresay
you know," he continued, as he patted the cheek of one of the twins,
"you know a Chinese marriage is a most interesting ceremony. Is that
then the reason why you all look so solemn? Oh, aye--I see--it is
about the dresses. The other day when the Resident gave his ball we
had some trouble about that. It is a great expense no doubt; but--"

"No, Meidema, that is not troubling me, for the Chinaman offers us
a present."

"A present!" shouted the Assistant Resident.

"Yes, he tells me that, on such occasions, they always give presents."

"Quite right--some sweetmeats, a few cakes, perhaps. But what of that?"

"No, no," said his wife, "not sweetmeats at all; but silk for dresses."

"Silk!" cried Meidema, "the fellow must have gone mad! I never have
heard of any such presents; and yet I have been a good while in India."

"He has even left some samples here with us," continued Mrs. Meidema,
"very fine silk, I assure you, most splendid quality. But there was
one slight condition attached to his gift."

"Indeed! a condition! what might that be?"

"That I should intercede with you for Lim Ho."

"For Lim Ho--oh, oh! and what did you say to that?"

"I told him I would have nothing to do with it."

"Where are these samples?" cried Meidema. "Hand them to me, I will
fling them into the fire."

"Now Meidema, do be quiet for a bit!"

"Intercede for Lim Ho! So! they thought to bribe you with a yard or
two of silk!"

"No, no Meidema, not only with a yard or two of silk--just open
that parcel."

The inspector tore it open, and, in his excitement he cried, "Where
is it?"

The banknotes fell to the ground. Pale and utterly unnerved he picked
them up, he opened them, looked at his wife and daughters with a stern
look; but he spoke not a word. At length, breaking out into a curse,
he crumpled up the whole parcel of samples and notes together into
one formless mass as he hoarsely cried: "The devil take that d--d
Chinaman! the fellow shall pay for this!" And calling to his servant
he cried: "Todrono, have the horses put in!"

Ten seconds later he had dashed out of the room.








CHAPTER XXVI.

NEATLY MANAGED.


"Yes, Resident, I accuse the opium farmer of a gross attempt at
bribery."

Such were the words with which Mr. Meidema concluded his detailed
account to Mr. van Gulpendam of what had taken place at his house
that morning.

"Avast! Mr. Meidema, steady a bit! You are going ahead much too
fast. Can you be quite sure that the five thousand guilders were
concealed in that parcel of silk samples for the purpose of bribery?"

"I have already told you, Resident, that what he came for was to
induce my wife to exert her influence over me in favour of Lim Ho. Yes,
most decidedly. I know that the money was intended for a bribe."

"But, Mr. Meidema," observed the Resident, "would it not be much more
charitable to suppose that Lim Yang Bing, who is, by nature, a kind and
generous man, really felt some concern at your financial difficulties?"

"My financial difficulties!" exclaimed Meidema, fairly white with
rage. "I should like to find out who spreads those absurd rumours. I
am not rich, I admit; but if every man's affairs were in as good
order as mine! Then--"

"Let us not get out of our course, my dear sir," remarked van
Gulpendam, interrupting him at the right moment.

"Very good, Resident, I do not wish to do so; but who gives that
confounded Chinaman any right to trouble himself about my private
affairs. What right has he to offer my wife and daughters presents
of five thousand guilders?"

"But, can you be sure it was meant for a gift?"

"What else could the money have been meant for?" asked Meidema.

"Well, I don't know," replied van Gulpendam, "but might not the notes
have got mixed up with the samples of silk purely by accident? You
ought to know how carelessly such fellows handle paper money, they
sometimes have a whole bundle of it loose in their pockets. Now I am
persuaded, on the contrary, that when presently you meet Lim Yang
Bing the whole business will be explained to your satisfaction. I
will send for him. Have you any objection?"

"None whatever, Resident; but the fellow may say or swear what he
likes; it will not alter my opinion, and nothing will make me retract
my charge against him."

"Don't be in such a hurry to blow off steam, Mr. Meidema, just allow
me to prick your chart for you, and you will soon see that you are
out of your course altogether."

Hereupon van Gulpendam called one of his oppassers, and ordered
the man to mount, and to ride off full speed to the opium farmer's
house. "Tell him I want him to come to me at once."

The two gentlemen had hardly spent half-an-hour in conversation on
the ordinary topics of the day, when an elegant carriage, drawn by
two splendid Persian horses, dashed up to the gate of the residential
mansion. A few moments later a servant announced the opium farmer.

"Show him in," said the Resident.

Lim Yang Bing sauntered into the room with his usual listless
air and with the stereotyped smile on his lips. The oppasser
had already told him that he would find the Assistant Resident of
Police with his Excellency, and he looked upon this as a good sign;
and had no doubt but that his troublesome smuggling question would
be settled off-hand. He therefore greeted the gentlemen with great
cordiality. "Tabeh, Kandjeng toean, toean!"

The Resident pointed to a chair, and as soon as Lim Yang Bing was
seated, he began:

"Babah, Assistant Resident Meidema, fancies that he has reason to
complain of your conduct."

"No, no!" exclaimed Meidema, interrupting his superior officer, "I
do not fancy anything of the kind, I actually do lodge an accusation
against him."

Both gentlemen spoke in Malay, and the Chinaman was thus able to
understand all that was said.

"And what cause of complaint may he have?" asked the Celestial,
with his imperturbable smile.

"You ask me," replied Meidema, "what I accuse you of? I will tell
you. I accuse you of offering me a bribe--to me, the head of the
police!"

"I, Kandjeng toean?" asked the Chinaman, with well acted
surprise. "When could I have done such a thing?"

"Not much more than an hour ago," was the reply. "Just now, this very
morning at my own house!"

"The toean Assistant Resident must be poking fun at me. It is true that
I met him a little while ago; but I had not the honour of exchanging
so much as a single word with him."

"I know that well enough," interrupted Meidema impetuously; "but did
you not this morning call at my house?"

The Chinaman looked upon the interview as a farce, in which every actor
had to play his part. He had often acted in such little plays himself
and had performed pretty creditably on such occasions. He continued
therefore; "Oh, yes, Kandjeng toean, I did pay your ladies a visit,
it was to invite you and them to the wedding, just in the same way,
and for the same purpose, as I called at the Residence to invite the
njonja and his Excellency."

"Indeed!" said Meidema, sarcastically, "I suppose you came to offer
silk dresses to the njonja Resident? Eh?"

Lim Yang Bing winced under the blow; and his sallow face grew several
shades paler. It was beginning to dawn upon him that matters were
serious after all, and, in some confusion, he glanced at the Resident;
but van Gulpendam, who was seated directly opposite to the Assistant
Resident, could not, just then, make him any sign; yet Lim Yang Bing
thought he could detect an encouraging expression in the Resident's
eye.

"And," continued Meidema, with increasing vehemence, "that you offered
the njonja Resident a roll of bank-notes also. Did you not?"

As he spoke these words, he flung the money down before him on the
writing-table as if it burned his fingers.

At this the Chinaman turned livid--for a moment he was utterly
confounded.

"There! you see, Resident!" continued Meidema, pointing to the
farmer. "You see! Why, guilt is written in every line of the fellow's
face!"

At these words Lim Yang Bing recovered his presence of mind, he
jumped up at once, snatched up the crumpled notes, spread them out
before him, and began deliberately to count them, "one, two, three,
four--ten." Then slowly raising his expressionless eyes to Meidema's
face, he asked:

"Does the toean Assistant Resident really intend to accuse me of
attempting to bribe him?"

"Yes, babah, I do most decidedly accuse you of it."

"But, may I ask, why then does not the Kandjeng toean give me back
the whole sum?" asked the Chinaman, very composedly, and with the
usual smirk on his lips.

"The whole sum?" cried Meidema, utterly taken aback, "what on earth
can the fellow mean?"

"Yes, toean," replied Lim Yang Bing, "I said, the whole sum. I have
felt for some time that the toean Assistant Resident is by no means
kindly disposed to me or mine; but I think it is not quite fair of him
to fling me back a small part of my money, and so to try and ruin me,
while he keeps back the greater part for himself."

All this he said without showing the slightest emotion, without the
slightest heat, without so much as even raising his voice; but in
the drawling sing-song way in which Chinamen generally speak; and
with the obsequious smirk which Chinese features always wear when
the owner is addressing a superior.

"Babah!" shouted Meidema trembling with rage, "take care of yourself,
don't go too far!"

But Lim Yang Bing felt his advantage, and was not to be
intimidated. With the same false smile and in the same drawling tones
he continued:

"But I clearly see what the toean Assistant Resident is aiming at. The
greater part of the present which I took the liberty of offering to
the njonja he keeps for himself, and to that he intends to add the
fine which Lim Ho will have to pay, should he be found guilty of
smuggling instead of Ardjan. It is not at all a bad idea, I admit;
but I leave it to the Kandjeng toean to say whether he thinks it
quite fair and honest."

Meidema sat there as if thunderstruck. A terrible suspicion began
to arise within him. Yes! his money matters were not by any means
in a healthy state. His housekeeping was an expensive one, all that,
he felt, was true enough. Could his wife under the hard pressure of
circumstances--could she have been induced to yield to the temptation,
might she possibly not have told him the whole truth? Might she
perhaps have mentioned to him only part of the bribe she had received,
just to see how he would take it? Yes! that must be it--His wife and
his daughters! Yes! now it flashed across him that they seemed much
confused when he came in. And then the line of conduct which he had
adopted before the Resident who, he felt, was no friend to him--with
an awful imprecation he sprang to his feet:

"Babah!" he exclaimed, "you are an impudent liar!"

"If the toean Assistant Resident becomes abusive," said Lim Yang
Bing with the same imperturbable calmness, "then I must request the
Kandjeng toean to give me leave to retire."

"Mr. Meidema," said van Gulpendam sternly, "I must beg of you to
moderate your language."

"How much do you say there was in that packet?" asked Meidema,
in despair.

"I offered the njonja Assistant Resident ten bank notes of a thousand,
and ten of five hundred guilders."

Poor Meidema fairly moaned with anguish and dismay.

"Is that true?" he asked again, with faltering tongue.

"I swear it!" was the quiet reply.

"Oh! I must go and get to the bottom of this!" cried the wretched man,
as he frantically rushed from the room.

The Chinaman and the Resident watched him with a curious smile.

"Splendidly parried, babah!" cried van Gulpendam admiringly, and then
muttering to himself, he said: "I wonder what port that obstinate
fool will make for in this storm."

"Perhaps the Kandjeng toean will now allow me to retire?" asked Lim
Yang Bing, with much humility.

"Certainly, babah, certainly, let me not detain you." And, after the
usual compliments had been exchanged, the Chinaman took his leave.

"Deep fellow that Chinaman, devilish deep! Aye, aye, those who dabble
in opium must have their wits about them, they must know how to trim
their sails!"

Foaming with rage, Meidema got home. He could not wait until his
carriage had reached the door; it had scarcely got into the grounds,
before he jumped out crying to the coachman, "Wait for me!"

He traversed the fore and inner galleries at a bound, and when he
reached the back-room where the ladies of his family were still
sitting at their needlework, he flew up to his wife, who, noticing
at once his excited state, rose from her chair. He grasped both her
wrists in his iron grasp, and, exerting all his strength, he forced
her down on her knees before him.

All this had passed so quickly that, although the two girls had also
sprung up, yet neither of them understood what was going on.

"There!" roared the infuriated husband, "there! that is your proper
position! And now answer me. Where is the rest of the money?"

"What money?" asked his wife in alarm.

"The ten thousand guilders!" thundered Meidema.

"What ten thousand guilders?" asked his unhappy wife, still on her
knees. "Meidema! let go my wrists, you are hurting me!"

"No, I shall not let you go until you have told me where you have
hidden the money."

"What money are you talking about?"

"The ten thousand guilders you had from the opium farmer!"

"Father," said Gesina, "let mother go, and listen to me, I will tell
you all about it."

"You!" roared her father without releasing his wife whom he still
kept kneeling before him.

"I took the parcel from Lim Yang Bing," continued the young girl. "It
was I who opened it, and we all admired the samples of silk. At that
time, I swear to you, father, there were no notes in it. I swear it by
all that I hold dear! When mother refused to listen to his conditions,
he put the parcel back into his pocket. Later on, mother consented
to speak to you about Lim Ho and to consult you about the silk, then,
the babah flung the parcel on the table and hurried away."

"But the ten thousand guilders!" cried Meidema impatiently.

"Let me finish what I have to say, father," continued the young
girl. "As soon as he was gone I again took up the samples. And now I
come to think of it, they were not the same we had admired before. At
the time, however, I did not notice the change. I took one of the
samples and spread it on my knee to bring out the effect of the
colours, and then--the notes fell out of the packet to the floor."

"Fifteen thousand guilders!" said the father who had been listening
with impatience but had not lost a word.

"No, father, not fifteen thousand; there were ten five hundred guilder
notes. There were no more than that," replied the girl in a firm and
steady voice.

"Is that the truth?" asked her father as he fixed his eye on his wife
and children.

But there was so much honesty and innocence in the eyes of his twins;
and his wife looked up at him so firmly and trustfully, that further
doubt was impossible, while all three as with one mouth and in one
breath said:

"That is the truth."

Then the wretched man raised his wife from the floor where she was
still on her knees before him. He clasped her in his arms and, as he
pressed her to his heart, he cried in a lamentable voice:

"My God! my God! I am a miserable wretch! I have dared to suspect my
darlings--the only ones I love upon earth!"

And, stretching out his arms, he flung them round the neck of his
wife and children as sobbing, he cried: "Oh, my dearest ones, can
you ever forgive me?"

Standing thus, the four formed a group which would have charmed a
sculptor; but which must have filled with rapture the heart of any
true friend of man. The wife, the daughters, overwhelmed the man,
who a moment before had so brutally treated them, with kisses and
caresses. Oh, they could so well place themselves in his position--they
could so well understand why he had been blinded by passion!

"Was I not right?" said Matilda, "when I feared that the parcel boded
us no good."

"But do tell me, Meidema," asked his wife, "what can have happened
that has so terribly unnerved you?"

"That beastly Chinaman," he cried, "actually declared in the Resident's
presence that he had given you not five but fifteen thousand guilders."

"Good God, how infamous!" exclaimed Mrs. Meidema.

"Infamous, yes most infamous! but what can one expect from a wretched
speculator in opium? Such a fellow as that is capable of any infamy."

"But," asked the anxious mother, "may not all this do you a deal of
harm?" She had some little insight into the intrigues carried on in
Dutch India.

"Yes," sighed Meidema, "no doubt it will. If I had to do with honest
people, it would not trouble me much; but now!--However, I must see
what I can do. My carriage is still at the door--I am off straight
to the Resident."



"That's a queer story of yours, Mr. Meidema."

Such was the only remark which Mr. van Gulpendam thought proper to
make when Meidema had most indignantly given him a full account of
what had occurred. While he spoke, the Resident had been sitting
most attentively listening to his words; but the expression of
his countenance showed no sign of sympathy. Now and then there was
even a slight motion of impatience and an incredulous smile. That
studied indifference and almost insolent smile exasperated the already
over-wrought Assistant Resident to such a degree that, when at length
his superior officer made his most unfeeling remark, he could not
help crying out with indignation:

"A queer story you call it, Resident. You mean, I suppose, a most
infamous business!"

"He, he, he! Mr. Meidema, not quite so fast if you please."

"But, Resident, what do you mean--Do you not then think it a most
infamous business?"

"Oh, yes, most certainly I do; but the question is for whom?"

"For whom? Is that the question, Resident? Then it appears to me you
do not believe me."

"Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Meidema, just listen quietly to me."

"But, Resident, this is a matter which demands an instant
explanation. If you do not take my word--"

"Now, Mr. Assistant Resident, I beg you will allow me to speak."

These words Mr. van Gulpendam uttered with that measured tone of voice,
and with that dignity which only a Resident knows how to assume. They
brought about an immediate and entire change in his subordinate's
demeanour. Meidema at once mastered his excitement, he replied not
a single word; but only bowed in sign that he was ready to listen.

"I said just now," began the Resident, "'a queer story' and now I
repeat the words--Yes, it is a very queer story, a very queer story
indeed. I will for a moment suppose, Mr. Meidema, that you are an
honest man."

The Assistant Resident gnashed his teeth and writhed with inward
passion at the insinuation; but he uttered not a sound. He had made up
his mind, outwardly at least, to retain his composure, and to listen
in silence.

Without appearing to notice Meidema's evident anguish, the Resident
continued:

"I am ready to admit, for argument's sake, that you are an honest man;
but I think you yourself must allow that appearances are terribly
against you. Just put yourself in the position of a Resident; put
yourself in my place. I am bound by my office to inquire into these
matters calmly and impartially, without fear or prejudice, and,
I must add without sympathy either; and then just see on what side
probabilities have been accumulating. It is known to everyone, that
you are in serious money difficulties--that is an open secret--and,
I must tell you, that in your public capacity as chief magistrate,
that common report is most injurious to you. When a man is in grave
pecuniary difficulties, it is almost impossible to make the public
believe that he can be impartial, inaccessible to bribes and strictly
honest. The temptations, you see, are too great. On the one side
there are tempting offers, which always manage to find a way for
themselves, on the other there are the claims of his family, claims
which have a powerful voice, and which clamour to be heard. Public
opinion, therefore, needs must be against you. Under these painful
circumstances, the opium farmer comes to your house and offers
presents, in the form of silk dresses, to your wife and daughters,
and he offers further a considerable bribe in the tangible shape of
money. Now, do you think that you can make anyone believe that all
this could occur without there having been some previous relations
between you, some quiet understanding to encourage such bare-faced
proposals? Surely not! You have told me with your own lips that
the opium farmer came to invoke the aid of your wife. Therefore,
he must have had some good cause to believe that not only could her
aid be purchased; but also that her intercession, when obtained,
would be of some value to him. Now, if you are compelled to grant me
all this--why, then I say that you can hardly wonder if I come to the
conclusion that she was not to-day solicited for the first time. At
all events, you must allow that an impartial judge might very easily
come to that conclusion. Now this is not all, there is yet another
point to be considered. You have yourself confessed that, at least for
a time, you yourself believed Mrs. Meidema guilty. Your description
of the scene--the deplorable scene--which has just now taken place
at your house, amply proves that. And, let me say in passing that
I most strongly disapprove of such want of temper and of such want
of self-control in my subordinates; but that in the particular case
which I have now before me, I am willing to excuse it. However, as I
was saying, the scene of which you gave me so graphic a description,
amply proves that you yourself did not consider Mrs. Meidema above
suspicion."

Poor Meidema! He sat there before the pitiless inquisitor, pale as
death, motionless as a statue. His bloodshot eyes gazed stonily at the
Resident who, with a kind of refinement of cruelty, seemed to delight
in probing his wound to the quick. At that moment the wretched man
sat there accusing himself more bitterly than van Gulpendam or any
one else on earth could have done. The voice of conscience is, to
the upright man, the most terrible voice of all. Yes--it was but too
true, he had been guilty of suspecting the wife of his bosom, he had
thought evil of his two innocent daughters. The Resident was pitiless;
but he was quite right. And then, alas! that was not the worst of it;
his conscience had a still louder reproach to make. He had been so
miserably weak that he had not been able to keep that foul suspicion
to himself--he had not been man enough to keep it locked up in his
own bosom. Honest and loyal as he was himself, he had fancied that
the truth--the whole truth--would have proved the strongest bulwark
for innocence. Thus, in a moment of blind honesty, he had, for no
other purpose than to bring out more strongly the innocence of his
family, betrayed to his enemy the excess of violence into which his
wild frenzy had led him. And now, the weapon to which he had fondly
trusted for his defence, had turned in his hand; not against himself
only, but also against those dear ones of whose perfect purity he
had no longer the faintest shadow of a doubt. The thought was too
terrible to bear, it was maddening--his eyes began to ache as though a
red-hot iron were pressed upon them. But, unmindful of his sufferings,
his pitiless tormentor quietly continued:

"From all this must we not then reasonably conclude, Mr. Meidema, that
your wife, terrified--and very naturally terrified--at your unreasoning
violence, must have confined herself to a simple denial after she
had attempted to mislead you in the matter of the ten thousand
guilders? You see," continued the Resident with a friendly smile,
"after all, the best thing is, that we should give that aspect to a
most lamentable occurrence; one cannot very well hold you responsible
for the actions of your wife."

At these words Meidema could restrain himself no longer. "No!" shouted
he, "that suspicion shall not be cast upon her--my wife is innocent!"

"Mr. Meidema," said van Gulpendam, in tones of mock sympathy, "let
me implore you to take my advice, and to consider well what you are
about. Once you let go that anchor, I have no other alternative than--"

He paused, even he seemed to hesitate, even he recoiled from what he
was about to say.

"No other alternative than--what?" asked Meidema, with something of
the listlessness of despair.

"Than to consider you the guilty man and to hold that your family
are in conspiracy with you."

"Resident!"

"Be calm, pray be calm! Remember it is not I who choose the
alternative--you yourself force it upon me. Once again, let me remind
you of your financial difficulties; let me remind you of the animosity
which, in your report, you plainly show to Lim Ho. In that paper you
eagerly seize upon every little circumstance which can possibly be
adduced to prove him guilty; and you as carefully avoid everything
which might point to Ardjan as the culprit. In fact you screen the
Javanese in every way you possibly can. Taking all these things
into consideration, the words spoken just now by the opium-farmer
must needs give us food for reflection. You remember what he said,
do you not? His words were blunt and cruel, I admit; but he seems
to have had justice on his side. 'He wants,' said the Chinaman,
'to keep for himself the greater part of the present which I offered
to the njonja, and he intends in addition to secure the fine which
Lim Ho will have to pay if he be found guilty.' A fine which we know
could not be screwed out of Ardjan. And when, in connection with those
words we come to examine the 23rd clause of the Opium Act, why, then
I do not think that many words will be needed to convince you that
you must not venture to reckon upon either my sympathy or my support."

Meidema, poor wretched man, was utterly crushed and
annihilated. Without uttering a sound, he sat vacantly staring at
his chief.

"No, no," continued van Gulpendam, "I can see no alternative. Either
you are guilty or your wife is guilty, perhaps both are equally
culpable. You have, however, still time to make a choice; it is not
yet too late, but that choice must be made quickly, now, at once;
for I have made up my mind to telegraph to headquarters this very day."

To telegraph! Poor Meidema only heard the one dreadful word
"telegraph." He knew well what that word implied; he knew well in what
an arbitrary and off-hand way the fate of subordinates is decided at
Batavia. Already he saw himself dismissed and disgraced, shunned as a
social leper by every respectable man; his wife and children wandering
about in poverty, exposed to hunger and untold misery. Just then, as if
he had been able to read the unhappy man's thoughts, the Resident said:
"Come, Mr. Meidema, decide, make up your mind, there must be no delay."

"What must I do, Resident?" moaned the poor man, now fairly at his
wits' end.

"What must you do? It is clear enough what you have to do. There
is your report; it has just been handed to me along with the other
papers relating to the business of the Court at which on Tuesday next
I intend to preside. Take it; here it is; do with it what you will."

He thrust the document into Meidema's hand--who took it, gazed at it
for a moment with meaningless stare, then made some gesture with his
hands as though he would tear it up; but--before he could accomplish
the fatal deed, his brain seemed to whirl and he fell heavily to
the ground.

A doctor was sent for at once. When he made his appearance, he found
Meidema lying back in a chair surrounded by the entire household of
the Residence, but utterly unconscious; and all around the floor was
strewed with fragments of paper.

The physician spoke of brain fever, and he ordered the patient to be
removed to the hospital.

"There is no danger, I hope, doctor?" asked the Resident, in tones
of the deepest sympathy.

"My dear sir," replied the medical man, "there is the very gravest
danger. It is a very sad case, it will surprise me much if the man
does not go mad--that is if he gets over this attack at all."

The Resident thereupon at once drove off to break the fatal news as
gently as possible to Mrs. Meidema.

The evening papers contained the following paragraph:

"We are grieved to state that Assistant Resident of Police,
W. D. Meidema, was this morning suddenly taken seriously ill. It seemed
at first as if he were suffering from some acute form of brain fever;
but after careful examination, our zealous and able medical officer has
come to the conclusion that it is a case of 'melancholia attonita.' It
is his opinion that no relief can be hoped for unless the patient
be at once removed to Europe. There he will probably have to pass a
considerable time in some asylum in which he can have the care which
his peculiar malady requires. If we are rightly informed, our Resident
at once telegraphed to Batavia; so that it is probable there will be no
delay in obtaining the necessary leave of absence. Mr. van Gulpendam
has further exerted himself to the utmost in obtaining a passage to
Europe for the sorrow-stricken family in the Noah III. which is to
sail for Patria on the day after to-morrow. Mrs. van Gulpendam also is
untiring in her attention, and entirely devotes herself to assist the
afflicted family by word and deed. Both the Resident and his wife have
once again shown how cordial is their sympathy with their subordinates,
and how thoroughly they have their welfare at heart. Our best wishes
accompany Mrs. Meidema and her children, and we heartily pray that
the Assistant Resident may speedily be restored to health."

The correspondent had been well informed. This much is certain, that
on the 14th of July the ship Noah III. left her anchorage, and under
the influence of the Eastern monsoon, left the harbour of Santjoemeh
and was quickly out of sight.

Van Gulpendam had, in the overflowing kindness of his heart,
accompanied his friends to the ship's side. He had warmly pressed
Mrs. Meidema's hand and uttered the kindliest sentiments at
parting. Then, when the ship was but a speck on the horizon, he
uttered a deep sigh of relief, and with a pleasant smile, he muttered
to himself: "Come, I have managed that pretty neatly."








CHAPTER XXVII.

SUMMUM JUS SUMMA INJURIA. FATHER AND SON CONDEMNED.
MURDER OF SINGOMENGOLO.


A couple of days later, Mr. Zuidhoorn left Santjoemeh. He started
for Batavia in one of the Dutch Indian Navigation Company's ships,
intending to take a passage to Singapore in the Emirne. From Singapore
he was to go to Marseilles in the Irrawady of the Messageries
Maritimes. He was, as we have seen, a thoroughly honest man; and he
had fully made up his mind to let the authorities at Batavia know
all that had occurred at the last session in Santjoemeh. He intended
to act in this matter as prudently as possible; but yet was resolved
that the officials at the head-quarters should be fully informed of the
shameful intrigues that were carried on in the interior. But--between
the forming of a good resolution and the carrying out of it, there
is a vast difference, as Mr. Zuidhoorn was soon to discover.

He had but three days to stay in Batavia, and he found that he could
not, in these three days, obtain an interview with the Governor
General. Mr. Zuidhoorn had taken the trouble to go all the way
to Buitenzorg; but it was only to find that, on the very day of
his arrival, his Excellency had, in the early morning, started
for Tjipannas. The only thing, therefore, that he could do was to
wait till the morrow, and then take a carriage and drive to that
place. Mr. Zuidhoorn took the precaution of telegraphing to the
adjutant on duty, and as he received no answer to his telegram,
he started the next morning for Tjipannas. He was doomed to be
once again disappointed; for when he arrived, he was told that,
unfortunately, His Excellency the Governor was confined to his room
by a severe attack of fever, and that no one could be admitted to his
presence. The aide-de-camp made this announcement with a profusion
of excuses, and tried to explain that he had not been able to send a
reply to the telegram because His Excellency had not been taken ill
until late in the night.

There was no help for it, and Mr. Zuidhoorn had to hurry back, as
best he could, to Batavia; cursing his unlucky star. But in these
fruitless efforts to gain the Governor's ears, two precious days had
been wasted, and he had but one left.

On the following morning Mr. Zuidhoorn called upon the Chief
Justice. This gentleman received him with a cordiality which was
somewhat too boisterous to be real.

"Here you are at length, my dear Zuidhoorn!" cried he, as, with
much outward show of friendship, he grasped his hand. "Indeed, I am
delighted to see you! I have been alarming myself so dreadfully about
the state of your health, that it is a positive relief to see you as
well as you are. I thought your indisposition was much more serious. I
am glad to find you are not so very bad after all; but it is getting
high time for you to go away for a bit and get a little rest."

Mr. Zuidhoorn did not know what to make of all this. "You thought me
very ill?" he asked in surprise. "What do you mean? I don't remember,
in any of my letters, that I represented my state of health as worse
than it really is. And then 'high time to get away?' I assure you I
do not understand what you mean. I was not at all anxious to leave."

"I suppose not," rejoined the Chief Justice, "I suppose not; but I
know you are beginning to feel the effect of the climate."

"Of the climate?" repeated Zuidhoorn still more puzzled.

"Yes! yes! you see, when we Europeans are forced to live in the
tropics for any considerable time, then, in some cases, nervous
debility begins to set in, frequently accompanied by weakening or
softening of the brain--"

"My dear sir," cried Zuidhoorn, "your hints--"

"Are not in the least applicable to you! My dear Zuidhoorn, I know
that as well as you do; but pray let me finish what I was going to
say. Some men, I observed, begin to suffer from debility and impaired
brain-power--others grow nervous, excitable, irritable--"

"Chief Justice!" cried Zuidhoorn, "is that the case with me?"

"As a rule," continued the other without noticing the interruption,
"as a rule the patient is, in such cases, wholly unconscious of his
condition; and is under the impression that he continues to speak
and act precisely as he was always wont to do."

"Is such the case with me?" again asked Zuidhoorn, repeating his
question.

"Well, yes, my dear colleague, I am sorry to say that, to a certain
extent, it is. You yourself are not aware of it, of course: but yet
to your friends the style in which you write has, of late, betrayed
a degree of irritability which you, as an excellent juris peritus,
know is scarcely desirable in a high legal functionary."

"But my dear sir!" exclaimed Zuidhoorn, "I am not at all aware--"

"Quantum est quod nescimus!" interrupted the other.

"Well," continued Zuidhoorn, "it is a very curious thing that no one
has ever dropped the slightest hint to me of any such infirmity."

"True enough, my dear colleague; but nevertheless it has been noticed
for some little time. At first I looked upon it merely as a result
of the extreme interest which we know you take in the discharge
of your duties. But it soon became evident to your friends that it
was a symptom of failing health: and, as you know perfectly well,
in our profession especially, it is of the utmost importance that
there should be meus sana in corpore sano."

Mr. Zuidhoorn was utterly amazed, as well as fairly disgusted. Was
that then the impression which his long and conscientious services
had made upon his superiors at head-quarters? Was that the reward for
the many years of anxious work which he had bestowed upon his office?

"But, my dear sir," said he, "you will, I suppose, not object to
give me a single instance in which that supposed infirmity of mine
has manifested itself to you?"

"A single instance! my worthy friend, why! I will give you ten,
twenty if you like!"

"I ask you but for one," was Zuidhoorn's reply.

"Very well then," said the Chief Justice, "look at that recent business
of the Santjoemeh sessions."

"Which sessions?" asked Zuidhoorn.

"Ah, you see! you have a kind of inner consciousness that there are
several occasions on which--"

"That is the merest quibble!" cried Zuidhoorn, somewhat testily,
"the merest quibble! I have attended at, and presided over, so many
sessions, that my question is, surely, a very natural one."

"Well, I will tell you," replied the other, "I am alluding to the
affair with Resident van Gulpendam."

"Who would persist in presiding over the trials, which he had no
right whatever to do."

"Come, come, my dear friend," said the Chief Justice, "you must be
losing sight of clause 92 of our Judicial regulations. But, I ascribe
that want of memory to your mental condition."

"Pardon me," interrupted Mr. Zuidhoorn warmly, "the condition of my
mind has nothing whatever to do with it. You said clause 92?"

"Precisely so," replied the Chief Justice, "that clause confers upon
the Resident the power of presiding at any session which may be held
within his district, should he think it right and proper so to do."

"I know that," answered Zuidhoorn, "but pray remember, that when that
92nd clause was in force, there was as yet no thought of appointing
specially qualified lawyers to the presidential office. At that time
such a regulation may have been useful and even necessary; but, as
matters stand now, it would be an utter absurdity for any Resident
who is a layman, to put aside the specially appointed president in
order to thrust himself upon a court of justice in the capacity of
chairman. Methinks that--"

"Mr. Zuidhoorn, allow me to say, that we judges ought to be the very
first to show strict respect to the written law. Certain rules and
regulations may appear useless or even mischievous; but so long as
they remain in force, we are bound to abide by them. And--pardon me the
question--have you in this particular case acted up to that principle?"

"It seems to me then," said Zuidhoorn, "that you do not approve of
my line of conduct?"

"Not only do I disapprove of it," replied the Chief Justice, "but the
Governor General also is extremely annoyed at the attitude you have
chosen to assume in this case. In his opinion the line of conduct you
have thought it right to adopt has seriously impaired the prestige
which ought to belong to your position."

"Oh, indeed! is that his Excellency's opinion?" asked Mr. Zuidhoorn
musingly. "Now I begin to see why I have not been admitted to an
audience."

"Have you tried to obtain one?"

"Yes, I have," was the reply. "The day before yesterday I went to
Buitenzorg--yesterday I went on to Tjipannas--"

"And--?"

"I was told by the aide-de-camp on duty that his Excellency was ill
in bed and could see no one."

"You see!" exclaimed the Chief Justice. "What did I tell you?"

"But, my dear sir," interposed Zuidhoorn, "the most scandalous
proceedings are going on. For the sake of shielding a wealthy opium
farmer, a poor devil of a Javanese--!"

"Has been falsely accused--and will in all probability, be found
guilty in spite of his innocence," remarked the Chief Justice with
a cynical smile. "Oh, yes, we know all about it, you have put the
whole question most clearly and most circumstantially before us. But
what are we to do? We are powerless, and must bend our heads to the
storm. You know summum jus, summa injuria."

Mr. Zuidhoorn was leaning his head on his hand as his colleague spoke
thus; and was vacantly, almost hopelessly, staring before him.

"Let me give you a friendly piece of advice, my dear colleague,"
resumed the Chief Justice kindly; "the fact is you are not at
all well--you are more seriously indisposed than you yourself are
aware of. To-morrow you mean to sail in the Emirne, eh? Very well,
my advice to you is to leave all these worries and bothers behind you
in Batavia; fling off all these anxieties, and go to Europe to recruit
your failing strength. In a couple of years' time you will return with
fresh vigour--a new man, in fact, in mind and body--and then you will
for many years to come continue to be an ornament to a profession in
which, allow me to tell you, very few can compete with you. And now
you must excuse me. My time is very precious and-- Oh, yes, one other
recommendation let me give you before taking leave. For the future,
pray take the greatest care never to meddle in any way, if you can
possibly help it, with any of the complications and intrigues of the
opium trade. I need hardly tell you that it is an imperium in imperio
and, to this I may add, malum malo proximum; in all such matters, he
who touches pitch must be defiled. And now--I can only wish you a quick
and pleasant voyage and a happy time in the old country. Good-bye,
my dear Zuidhoorn, good-bye. A pleasant journey to you!"

The two cases of opium smuggling, the one at the Moeara Tjatjing
and the other arising out of the discovery in the hut of Pak
Ardjan at Kaligaweh, did not come on at once before the court at
Santjoemeh. Resident van Gulpendam was delighted when he heard from
the Chief Justice at Batavia, that, owing to the scarcity of legal
men at head quarters, there was no chance whatever of filling up,
for some time to come, the vacancy caused by Mr. Zuidhoorn's departure.

The sittings of the court at which the Resident now had to preside,
were held, as usual, regularly once a week; but Mr. van Gulpendam
found no difficulty, on one pretext or another, in putting off the
hearing of the opium cases from week to week.

At length, however, the chief djaksa had informed him that the two
Chinamen, Than Khan and Liem King, who had been on watch in the djaga
monjet, could nowhere be found. Presently it was found that Awal
Boep Said, the captain of the schooner brig, Kiem Ping Hin, on whose
testimony Ardjan chiefly relied, had also disappeared without leaving
a trace behind him. Then van Gulpendam thought that the proper time
had come to bring up the prisoners for trial.

Ardjan had to confess that on the February night in question, he had
come ashore in very stormy weather; that the boat of the Matamata
had chased him and had fired upon him; but he was quite unable to
prove that the opium discovered, not far from the spot where his
surf-boat was driven ashore, had not been landed by him. Thus all
the evidence was against him. Then he called upon Dalima to prove
that she was seated with him in the boat. The president, however,
assured the court that the girl had not, on that night, left the
grounds of the Residence, and that her testimony, therefore, must be a
mere tissue of falsehood and of no value whatever--that it could not
in any case invalidate the evidence already produced. The Resident
further drew the court's attention to the fact that Dalima herself
was about to be put on trial for a precisely similar offence--a fact
which could not but affect the weight of her testimony. The court
thus came to the conclusion that it was perfectly useless to call so
tainted a witness. Moreover the chief djaksa deposed that Pak Ardjan,
the prisoner's father, had confessed that the smuggled opium which
Singomengolo had found in his cabin, had been supplied to him by his
son. Thus the guilt of the prisoner was clearly established and Ardjan
was, accordingly, found guilty of an attempt at smuggling one and a
half pikols of pure opium which was equivalent to about three pikols
of raw material. This brought the case under the 23rd clause of the
Act, and the court condemned him to three years' penal servitude,
and further to pay a fine of three thousand guilders. In default of
payment, he was to have three months' compulsory labour on the public
works for every hundred guilders. Ardjan was, therefore, doomed to
what virtually came to eight years' penal servitude. The poor victim
of this gross miscarriage of justice gnashed his teeth with impotent
rage when he heard the sentence. Could he have expected more lenient
treatment at the hands of the white men? Perhaps he had, poor fellow!

After the son, the father--after Ardjan, Pak Ardjan.

His case was treated in a still more off-hand manner if possible,
than his son's.

The prisoner had confessed that he had smuggled opium in his
possession. Entrapped by artful cross-examination; and without having
the slightest suspicion how heavily his testimony would weigh against
his son Ardjan, he had admitted that the latter used, from time to
time, to supply him with the drug. He had further been forced to
confess that he had wrenched a sword from one of the oppassers and,
in consequence of the fellow's grossly indecent conduct towards his
little daughter, had dealt the wretch a couple of slashing blows with
his own weapon. But hardly any notice whatever was taken of these
extenuating circumstances--they were, in fact, not inquired into at
all. The wretched father was there and then found guilty of having
illegally in his possession two katties of opium. As this was his
first offence, he could only be sentenced to forfeit the captured
wares and to undergo three months' hard labour. But on the other
charge, that namely, of having offered resistance to the police and
of having wounded one of the officers in the execution of his duty,
he was sentenced to ten years' penal servitude.

Thus father and son were both satisfactorily disposed of. The
latter, though perfectly innocent, was sent to penal servitude for
eight years. The former, for a very simple offence, for which only a
trifling penalty could be inflicted, had not the infamous conduct of
the searchers driven him to resistance, was sent to penal servitude
for ten years. The Chief Justice at Batavia fixed upon Atjeh as the
place where the culprits should serve their time; but--before the
order could arrive at Santjoemeh--both Ardjan and his father had
managed to make their escape.

It was an awful night, dark as pitch, while a terrible thunderstorm
had burst over Santjoemeh. The young native soldier who was on
sentry-duty inside the outer wall of the prison, had been driven to
seek for shelter within his sentry-box, terrified by the flashes of
lightning, the deafening claps of thunder, and the torrents of rain;
when, suddenly, he felt an iron grip upon his throat. Before he had
time to utter a sound, a blow from a heavy piece of wood stretched
him senseless on the ground. Meanwhile the thunder kept on rattling
and the rain came splashing down with redoubled fury--such rain as
is only seen in the tropics. Of these circumstances, so favourable
to their flight, the fugitives made the best use. Nimble and strong,
as a good sailor must be, Ardjan was able to help his father to gain
the top of the wall, then he soon managed to clamber up himself. Once
firmly seated, he lowered the old man to the ground on the other side,
and, in a twinkling, he was at his side. Not one of the sentries on
duty outside the wall was to be seen, they also, in such dreadful
weather, had got under cover. The rain still poured down in torrents,
and the water was coursing over the plain beyond and dashing down
the streets as if all the rivers in the country had broken their
bounds. Outside the prison wall all was darkness. One solitary oil-lamp
was flickering in a lantern; but it only shed a sickly and feeble light
in its immediate neighbourhood, while its wretched little glimmers
served but to make more palpable the darkness beyond. Just at the
moment when the fugitives had safely reached the foot of the wall,
there came a blinding flash of lightning, cleaving its zig-zag way
through the clouds. The flash was followed immediately by a stunning
clap of thunder with that peculiar crackling sound which tells that
the lightning has struck something close by, and then another noise
was heard--it was that of a mighty cocoa nut palm which split from
top to bottom, came crashing to the ground.

The two Javanese then left the shelter of the wall where they knew that
the rounds might at any moment discover them; and, taking advantage
of the dense darkness which followed upon the dazzling flash, they
darted across the small plain in which the prison stood, and, in a
few moments, had reached the edge of the dessa.

Once there, they were perfectly safe, for not one of the inhabitants of
the dessa would have thought of betraying the victims of the detested
opium tyranny to the vengeance of the white man.

When Resident van Gulpendam was informed of this escape, he was
simply furious.

One of the sentries stated that, after the fall of the palm-tree,
he had heard a sound as of something splashing in the water; but
the darkness made it impossible for him to distinguish what it was,
and he thought it must be some dog who was trying to get away from so
dangerous a neighbourhood. The Resident at once ordered the man to
be tried by court-martial, and had him punished with fourteen days'
close imprisonment.

The most careful search was made to discover the fugitives. All the
detectives, all the spies, all the creatures of the opium police, were
turned out, and used their utmost skill; but all to no purpose. For
months the entire district of Banjoe Pahit, especially the dessa
Kaligaweh, was carefully watched; the wife and children of Pak Ardjan
were not lost sight of for a moment; but without result. At length
the police were driven to the conclusion that the criminals could
not have returned to Kaligaweh and that they must, in fact, have left
the residence of Santjoemeh altogether. Presently men ceased to talk
about the matter, and soon the whole business was clean forgotten;
when--a couple of months later--an event took place which, while it
recalled the occurrence to men's minds, gave them at the same time
ample food for reflection.



On a certain evening Singomengolo had come to Lim Yang Bing and had
told him that he thought he had found a trace of the fugitives; but,
as he feared some of the information he had gained might leak out,
he refused to give any further explanation. He requested, however,
that he might, for that evening, have the assistance of two of Lim Yang
Bing's men; and he picked out two Chinese bandoelans to accompany him
on his voyage of discovery. The opium farmer tried all he knew to get
at Singomengolo's secret. He questioned and cross-questioned him; but
he could get nothing out of him. The bandoelan persisted in saying that
he could hope for success only by keeping strictly secret the clue he
had obtained. He further said that he was not at all certain that the
information he had gained was genuine; and that he might very possibly
be on a wrong scent altogether. The only thing he allowed to slip out
was that the field of his operations lay not far from Kaligaweh. As
soon as he had obtained the help he required, Singomengolo started
off with his two police-spies; but he did not return. When on the
following morning, the opium farmer heard that his trusty servant had
not yet come home, he began to grow anxious. He was so used to see
his bandoelan at a stated hour in the morning, to receive from him
a report of all that had occurred during the twenty-four hours, and
to give him his further orders, that the man's want of punctuality on
this occasion gave him no little alarm. On that morning especially, he
had been impatiently awaiting Singo's usual visit, as he was extremely
curious to know what success had followed the night's expedition. He
waited and waited with still growing impatience until noon. Then,
the suspense becoming intolerable, he called for his carriage, and
drove straight off to the Residence.

"What is the matter now, babah?" cried van Gulpendam, greatly surprised
at the manner of his visitor, who seemed to have lost all the calmness
and composure which are so very characteristic of his nation.

"Kandjeng toean," hurriedly said Lim Yang Bing, "I come to invoke
your aid!"

Thereupon he told the Resident what little he knew of Singomengolo's
expedition, and could not hide the anxiety which the bandoelan's
prolonged absence caused him.

For a few moments the Resident sat reflecting on what he had heard. He
had received, from one of the landowners at Banjoe Pahit, secret
information which was of a very disquieting nature. A hint had been
conveyed to him from that source, that very probably Banjoe Pahit would
be threatened by a visit from certain bands of robbers. The hint was,
however, so very vague and had apparently so little to support it,
that he had not paid much attention to it. The new controller, whom he
had appointed in the place of Verstork, and to whom he had imparted
the information he had received, assured him that the district was
profoundly quiet, that the population was as orderly and contented as
it could possibly be; and that not a single alarming symptom could be
discovered. True it was that the land-tax came in somewhat slowly; but,
on the other hand, other sources of revenue were decidedly improving,
and, judging from the flourishing state of the opium den at Kaligaweh,
the bidding at the approaching sale of the monopoly would run unusually
high. This report was eminently satisfactory to the Resident, and
though he knew perfectly well that the foundation upon which the
controller had built his pleasant expectations, was an extremely
crazy one; for in such matters it was not an easy thing to deceive
the keenly practised eye of van Gulpendam, yet he was quite ready
to accept it as sufficient, because he reckoned upon the report as
a convenient screen under which to hide himself should matters turn
out not quite so satisfactory as his subordinate would make them
appear. He had, therefore, written to the landowner a most polite
letter in which he thanked him for his information; but in which he
at the same time told him that he had reason to think his fears were
unfounded, adding that for the future, it might perhaps be advisable
not to spread such alarming reports. Strange that, as Lim Yang Bing
was telling his tale, these vague rumours of possible disturbance had
come up spontaneously to the mind of the Resident, yet so it was. Very
probably van Gulpendam could not have explained the fact to himself.

Why should the rather late return of Singomengolo--for, as yet,
there was no ground for giving his absence any other name--why should
that have any connection with those faint rumours of robber bands
which had not shown the slightest symptom of having any substantial
foundation? No, no, that was out of the question. Van Gulpendam
accordingly tried to calm the Chinaman's fears.

"But, babah," said he, "surely you have no reason for all this
uneasiness. It must, I should think, be no uncommon occurrence for
a bandoelan to be delayed for some time on a secret mission--"

"No, kandjeng toean," was the reply, "not Singomengolo. He always
takes his measures so carefully and lays down his plans so accurately,
that he never fails to be with me at the appointed time."

"Well, babah," asked the Resident, "in what manner can I assist you?"

"All I want," replied Lim Yang Bing, "is for you to give me a few
oppassers and your written authority to call upon the dessa people
to lend the police any assistance they may require."

"But," persisted van Gulpendam, "what do you want the oppassers and
the dessa people to do?"

"I wish," said the Chinaman, "thoroughly to search Kaligaweh. I
don't know how to explain it, kandjeng toean; but I have a kind of
presentiment that Singomengolo has fallen into some trap and has met
with foul play."

"Very good," said van Gulpendam, "so be it, I have no objection."

A few hours later, a numerous band of men was searching Kaligaweh
in every direction; but no discovery was made that could throw any
light upon the matter. The dessa people were preparing to go home,
and the policemen were getting ready to return to Santjoemeh, when
a fisherman came up and told them that at Kali Tjatjing he had seen
something which looked like three dead bodies. Thereupon the search
was at once resumed, and, under the fisherman's guidance, the police
proceeded to the spot he had mentioned. At length under a thickly
tangled clump of mangrove, quite close to the river bank, they found
the bodies of Singomengolo and of one of his Chinese followers. Both
bodies were covered with wounds; and so fearfully hacked about with
the kris, that death must have been almost instantaneous. The third
Chinaman still showed some signs of life when they found him. He
had a dreadful gash in the throat; but if it had been attended to at
once he might possibly have survived. Loss of blood, however, had now
made his recovery hopeless. When the party of searchers reached him
he opened his eyes feebly, and muttered some disconnected words. He
tried to say something about men with blackened faces, and some of
those present thought they could distinguish the name of Ardjan,
then, uttering a deep sigh, the man expired.








CHAPTER XXVIII.

CORRESPONDENCE.


The departure of Verstork for Atjeh, seemed to have drawn more closely
together the little band of friends which, after the boar-hunt in the
Djoerang Pringapoes, we saw so cosily seated around the hospitable
board at Banjoe Pahit. The loss of one of their number had strengthened
rather than weakened their mutual feelings of friendship. We said
the loss of one of their friends; but in this case that is hardly
the correct word to use; for, though William Verstork was far away,
yet he continued to dwell in the memory of them all, and he was
perpetually the subject of their conversation. It was, however, not
only that affectionate remembrance which held the friends so closely
united. Letters were continually passing between them, and Verstork was
kept well informed by his friends at Santjoemeh of all that concerned
themselves privately, and also of the events which form the subject
of our story, and in which they all played a more or less prominent
part. Edward van Rheijn had, under the influence of van Gulpendam,
for a time grown somewhat cool towards his friends; but when he began
to gain a deeper insight into the real character of the Resident,
and began to see with what cynical selfishness he turned everything
to his own advantage, his feelings towards his friends became as warm
as ever they had been before. He wrote a long letter to Verstork
about his successor at Banjoe Pahit, in which he showed him how
mischievous and destructive was that man's influence in the formerly
thriving district. Everything, he said, was rapidly going to ruin, the
rice-culture was being woefully neglected, and the second crops shared
the same fate. Breach of contract was now an almost daily occurrence,
inasmuch as the once so orderly and industrious population, was fast
getting lazy, listless, in fact utterly unfit for any regular work
whatever. In one word, the entire district was visibly deteriorating,
and could look forward to nothing but a future of crime and misery. On
the other hand, the opium den, the gambling hells and the pawn shop,
were in a most flourishing condition, and produced large incomes to the
farmers of those sources of revenue to the Dutch treasury. In order to
satisfy the inordinate passion for gambling and for opium, smuggling
was rapidly on the increase, and theft was of daily occurrence; nay,
there were even ugly whispers of robber bands, which were said to have
been organised, and to have already begun their criminal operations.

Van Rheijn concluded his letter with these words: "The bandoelan
Singomengolo--You remember the scoundrel who was present at the
dreadful Amokh scene at Kaligaweh, and who afterwards arrested baboe
Dalima--has been found murdered close to Moeara Tjatjing, and two of
his Chinese followers have shared his fate. I have every reason to
believe that this crime had nothing to do with robbers; my opinion is
that it was a pure case of revenge; for on the bandoelan's body there
was found the sum of sixty-eight guilders, and this plainly enough
shows that robbery could not have been the motive of the murder. There
is another very remarkable circumstance in this case, and it is this:
Besides the money, I told you of--there were found on him five small
copper boxes, which are precisely like the two little boxes you took
possession of at Kaligaweh, and in the Djoerang Pringapoes. Indeed,
I must tell you that I am now beginning to see what a fearful curse
the opium trade is to the country. I make that confession the more
freely to you, as you recollect, no doubt, that some little time ago
I had not made up my mind on the question. Such, in the few months of
your absence, has become the condition of Banjoe Pahit; and--to fill
up the cup of misery--a rumour is now current that the land-tax is to
be raised, and that the other already existing taxes are to be exacted
with much greater severity; while, at the same time, fresh burdens
will be heaped upon the shoulders of the natives. In one word, money
grabbing in every possible shape and form, in the form of compulsory
labour, in the form of duty on salt, in the form of import and export
duties, in the form of opium dens, of gambling booths, in the shape
of pawn shops,--everywhere extortion, the most wrung out of the poor
wretched Javanese. William! William! where must all this end? I can
foresee nothing but calamity--there must come a crash. It may come
sooner or, it may be, later; but come it must. For the condition of
Banjoe Pahit is by no means exceptional. It may much rather be looked
upon as typical of the state of the entire island of Java."

August van Beneden wrote to his friend to tell him all that had
occurred with regard to the impending trials of the Javanese
Setrosmito, and of his daughter baboe Dalima. He wrote as follows:

"Just fancy, William! The Government have thrown all kinds of obstacles
in the way of my appearing as defending counsel in these two cases. You
will hardly guess what reasons are given for this opposition. The
objection is, that perhaps I might have to be called as a witness in
both cases. It was a rather clever dodge; but, as you may suppose, I
stuck to my point. The whole question has been submitted to the Judge
Commissary of the court of Santjoemeh; and, when I had declared that
I had witnessed nothing, and that therefore my testimony could not
be called for, after I had formally stated that I had no pecuniary
interest whatever in the matter, and had consented unconditionally
to abide by his decision, the Judge withdrew his opposition, and
permitted me to plead in both cases. But he further said that,
should I be unexpectedly called as a witness, he could not allow me
to be sworn.--And now, William, pray attend to the reason which he
gave for that decision. He could not allow me to be sworn because,
although I am undertaking this defence gratuitously and do not expect
to receive any fee; yet, as defending counsel, I must be looked upon
as having an indirect interest in the acquittal of my clients, and
am not, therefore, in the eyes of the law, a perfectly independent
and unbiassed witness! Now what do you think of that? I freely admit
speaking as a man and as a lawyer that the decision is correct,
quite correct; but, what if that principle were to be applied to all
witnesses that appear in court? Would not the testimony of all the
bandoelans, the opium-hunters, the opium-den keepers, 'et hoc genus
omne,' much rather lie open to suspicion? It is an admitted fact that
all these men speak under the direct dictation of the opium farmer, and
that, moreover, owing to the rewards which the law allows them, they
have a most direct and material interest in procuring convictions. Oh,
William! our entire legal system--and especially our treatment of
the natives in opium cases--is most lamentably deficient.

"The charges against Setrosmito and baboe Dalima will be brought
before the native court, and it is but very seldom that counsel are
heard there. It is my intention, therefore, to appear as counsel only
in the case of Setrosmito. With regard to Dalima, should she be found
guilty, she will have an appeal to the Superior Court at Santjoemeh,
and then I shall have to conduct her defence with as much vigour as
possible. You may ask perhaps why make that distinction between the
two cases? Listen to me, and bear in mind that I am acting under van
Nerekool's advice.

"You have probably heard that Singomengolo, who in both trials was to
have been the principal witness, has been mysteriously murdered. At
first I thought that his removal was all in favour of my clients;
but I have since ascertained that the chief bandoelan has left behind
him a sworn deposition of all the facts, and that it will be received
as evidence by the court. Thus his death is a positive and serious
injury to our cause, inasmuch as we cannot now confront him with Lim
Ho, and with the defendants. I fully expected to have been able to
lead them into a long and angry discussion, in the course of which,
I have no doubt, that several facts would have come to light, which
would have enabled me to prove that the father committed the crime
of which he stands accused, under the most extenuating circumstances;
and clearly to bring out the absolute innocence of the daughter, and
the brutal violence to which she has been subjected. Now, however,
we are in a very different position. At the preliminary inquiry
before the Judge Commissary, Mrs. van Gulpendam has stated that she
was quite unaware of Dalima's absence from the house on the night in
question; and thus the girl now lies under very serious suspicion of
having left the grounds of the Residence for an improper purpose. You
remember, of course, that on the morning of our boar-hunt she appealed
to the fact of her having received leave of absence both from the
njonja and from nonna Anna. Whereupon you asked her whether these
ladies would bear witness to that fact. You recollect also that
she at once replied in the affirmative. But you will ask perhaps:
'How about Miss van Gulpendam?' Well, William, that is another very
mysterious business! The common report is that the Resident's daughter
has gone to Karang Anjer on a visit to the Steenvlaks. But, no sooner
had the inquiry about Dalima begun, than the Resident said that his
daughter had gone to Europe, and that she intended to stay for a while
with an aunt of hers who lives in Switzerland. But the most curious
circumstance is that in the lists of passengers of all the ships which
have, within the last few months, sailed for Europe, the name of Miss
Anna van Gulpendam can nowhere be found. You know how inquisitive
are our gossips at Santjoemeh--Well, the public--that public which
sees everything, hears everything, and pries into everything--has
made every possible endeavour to find out what may have become of
Miss van Gulpendam; but without the slightest success. The Resident
has been pressed on the point by many an indiscreet busy-body,
and he treats the whole thing in a very light and airy way. He has
concocted some tale to the effect that his daughter, in company with
two English ladies, left by a boat from Tjilatjap, that she started
for Port Adelaide, and from thence intends to take the mail-boat to
England. Not a soul, of course, believes a word of the yarn, which is
all the more apocryphal from the fact that the father has never yet
been induced to mention the name of the ship in which the young lady
is said to have sailed. Some anxious souls amongst us have actually
gone the length of telegraphing to Acraman, Main, and Co. of Adelaide,
and the answer they received was:--'We know nothing of the arrival
of three ladies from the Dutch Indies.'--Van Nerekool is frantic,
that you may well suppose. A few days ago he was talking about going
to Karang Anjer to inquire after his lady-love, for whom he has still
the deepest and warmest affection. He has been there and has returned
as wise as he was before. He will, I have no doubt, write to you
and tell you, poor fellow, all about his adventures. I rather fancy,
indeed, that he has done so already. The sum total of all this is,
my dear William, that my clients' affairs are in a very bad state;
but I do not despair. I shall do my very utmost to save the poor
creatures. To spur me on to further exertions, I have the fact that
poor Dalima is, as the saying is, in an interesting condition; so that
the consequences of Lim Ho's detestable misdeed are already showing
themselves. Will this circumstance be of any use to me at the trial? I
doubt it much. We have no legal proof of the outrage and, therefore,
I think it will be best for all concerned to hush the matter up as much
as possible. All right-minded men, however, are moved with the deepest
sympathy for the poor girl; and should she be discharged, or after
she has left the prison, will be ready to protect her. She will need
all the support she can get; for, after her father's condemnation,
she will be homeless, and, disgraced as she is by van Gulpendam's
assertions, she will not be able to get a place anywhere either as
baboe or in any other capacity. However, time brings counsel!"

It was a letter from Grenits which brought Verstork news of the
double escape of Ardjan and his father from the jail at Santjoemeh,
and told him of the consternation which that event had spread in
official circles. The young merchant wrote to his friend, and said:

"The Resident tries to appear perfectly indifferent to the escape of
the prisoners, and whenever it is talked about treats the matter with
much unconcern. But it has been remarked with what feverish anxiety the
fugitives have been pursued. I can assure you that, when the regular
police were at fault, the whole army of opium-spies was pressed into
the service. But since Singomengolo and two of his Chinamen were
found murdered--and murdered too without having been robbed--the
very gravest anxiety has been felt; and a report was current that
the guard at the Residence had been doubled. There is not a word of
truth, however, in that rumour, and I can positively deny it. The two
sentries, as usual, march up and down before the door of the high
and mighty one; but the officer who commands that honourable corps
of civilian soldiers has assured me that the cartridge box in the
guardroom at the Residence has not even been unlocked. A good job
too; for if those heroes should begin to fire ball-cartridge, loyal
and peaceful citizens will be in considerably greater peril than the
offenders. But, for all that, I am heartily glad that the fellows
have got clear away. Their escape may not be legally justifiable;
but a most grievous piece of injustice has thus been partially
rectified. The father was driven to his reckless deed by the brutal
conduct of the police towards his children, while the son had no hand
whatever in the opium smuggling with which he was charged. You know
that perfectly well, and the public knows it as well as you do. My
own little affair with Mokesuep will now very shortly come before the
high court of justice. The case is an extremely simple one. I have
admitted that I did give the fellow two good slaps in the face, and
my confession has been confirmed by the evidence of the man himself,
and by that of Lim Ho and of Grashuis. Acting on van Beneden's advice,
I have not pleaded any extenuating circumstances; because we do not
wish to bring up poor little Dalima's name. The doctor has given a
formal certificate to the effect that no outrage has been committed,
and thus there is no possibility of legally proving the offence. And
yet we are all of us morally convinced that a gross outrage was
perpetrated, but--when shall we see justice dealt out fairly in India?"

It was, however, van Nerekool's letter which made the deepest
impression on Verstork, though he had read the other communications
with very great interest. The young judge told his friend all about
Anna van Gulpendam's sudden disappearance and what had taken place
since she left. He said:

"I have done all I could possibly do to meet her again; but to no
purpose. Not only have her parents taken every precaution to make
a meeting impossible; but Anna herself was determined not to see
me again when I had at length persuaded Mrs. Meidema to let me know
when I might expect to find Anna at her house. Now she is gone--and I
received a letter from Sapoeran; but, my dear friend, it is a letter
which robs me of all hope. She writes: 'My union with you is utterly
impossible, you cannot, you must not think of making me your wife
after the infamous proposals which have been made to you. You will say,
perhaps, that a child is not guilty of the actions of her parents and
cannot be held responsible for them. In that you are perfectly right,
and I must tell you that my conscience is as clear; and that, if in
my present forlorn condition I may be allowed so to speak, I, at this
present moment hold up my head as high as before I knew anything of
my mother's designs. But to be always face to face with the man to
whom the odious propositions were made, to be ever conscious, even in
our tenderest moments, of the fact that I was flung to the man I love
as the price of dishonour, that is a prospect which is to me utterly
unendurable. You are a gentleman, and as such, you would no doubt
always have treated my parents with deference and with the proper show
of respect; but to know that all this must be a mere empty show, put
on in deference to a daughter's natural affections,--Oh Charles! that
would have made life an intolerable burden to me, and must in the
end, have destroyed your happiness also.' William, my dear friend,
these lines sounded to me so full of despair, while at the same
time they are so full of love, that they made me the happiest and,
at the same time, the most wretched of men. I can fully enter into
her feelings--I can understand her deep disgust at the actions of
her parents; and it is for that very reason that I now, if possible,
love her still more ardently than before. Her noble character stands
clearly revealed in every word of her letter and commands my respect
and admiration. I often ask myself how can such a child have sprung
from such parents? It must be by a freak of nature that two such
depraved creatures could have begotten so noble a child. How is it
possible that amid such surroundings Anna has remained spotless and
pure? To us who hold the cynical opinion that with our mother's milk
we imbibe our mother's faults, it is an insoluble enigma. But, you
see William, all this only serves to increase my affection for the
lovely girl who happens to have crossed my path of life. What will be
the end of it all? That is a question I often seriously put to myself;
but I can find no answer to it. There are moments when I recoil from
my very self; for I am beginning to discover within me certain feelings
which I hardly dare to analyse. Are these feelings to be accounted for
by the obstacles which my love to Anna has encountered? Would they
ever have arisen in my breast if the course of my love, like that
of so many of my fellow-men, had run smoothly along? I cannot tell;
for the ideal which once I formed of married life is so strangely
different from the storm which now rages within me, that I sometimes
cannot repress a painful smile when I call to mind my visions of days
gone by. Then woman was to me an ethereal being rather than a companion
of flesh and blood who can herself feel the passion she inspires. You
know, my dear friend, how little, hitherto, I have been accessible
to what is called love. Well, now I am a different man. At times I
feel as if a burning fire were consuming me. There are moments when
painful yearnings arise within me for that pure and lovely being,
for that proud maiden, whose very chastity and purity attract me with
irresistible power. She flies from my love--and, oh William! I confess
it to you though I confess it with shame--that there are moments in
which I not only long to make her mine, but in which I madly swear
that at any price she shall be mine. And then--alas that I should
have to say so--in this storm of passion there is nothing tender,
nothing sentimental; but it is simple passion which masters me, the
mere selfish and senseless raging of the grossly material man, who
is prepared to fling himself, by force if need be, upon the object
which he has determined to obtain.

"After the receipt of that last letter I have repeatedly written to
Anna. Again and again I have told her of my love. I have conjured her
not to trample upon my affection. I have begged, I have entreated,
I have prayed her not to refuse me her hand. Her parents would surely
not persist in rejecting me; my worldly prospects might improve;
indeed, I let her know that, as far as mere money was concerned,
she need have no anxiety whatever; for that one of my mother's
sisters had left me, not indeed any very considerable sum, but yet a
competence. I told her that I must succeed in getting an appointment
far away from the abode of her parents, and that, if life in India was
really unbearable to her, we could cross the sea and go to Australia;
that we might there marry and live quietly and forgotten by all,
yet happy in our mutual affection. All this I wrote, and a great
deal more; but, my dear friend, I received not a single word in
reply. Regularly my letters have been returned to me and always
unopened. Then I began to see that her determination was not to be
shaken. With her own hand she enclosed my letters in an envelope and
with her own hand firmly and boldly wrote the address. There could
be no mistake about it; it was indeed her own handwriting. What was
I to do? What could I do? I was in the most excited frame of mind;
yet the huge mass of arrears with which the courts at Santjoemeh are
overloaded would not allow me to ask for even a single day's leave of
absence. I felt that I must get away--that I must fly to Karang Anjer;
for I was persuaded that even yet I might induce Anna to look with
less coldness upon my love. At length my last letter was returned
to me unopened as all the others had been. As I held it in my hand
a strange feeling of dread seemed to come over me for--the address
was not in Anna's handwriting. Hastily I tore open the cover. Yes,
there was my letter, unopened, and upon it were written these few
hurried words: 'Anna van Gulpendam has left Karang Anjer!' You may
perhaps be able, William, to understand my feelings as I read the
words 'Anna has left Karang Anjer!' and not another syllable to give
me a clue as to where my darling then was. Who could have written
those few words--it was certainly not Anna's hand, that I could see
at a glance. But who could it be? Was it a woman's hand at all? The
writing was regular, the letters were fairly formed; but they told me
nothing. One thing I felt quite distinctly, namely that, at any cost,
I must get to Karang Anjer or else anxiety and suspense would kill
me. The only question was, how to get away. You know that my superior
officer in the High Court of Justice is a friend of van Gulpendam,
and thus I knew I could not venture to ask him for leave of absence,
I am glad I did not, for had I done so, I feel convinced that every
one of my steps would have been watched. Happily, however, help came
from an unexpected quarter. I became seriously indisposed. Congestion
and feverish attacks made me wholly unfit for work, and though I was
not forced to take to my bed, yet the doctor was so uneasy about the
state of my health, that he insisted upon my starting at once for the
hills; for, he declared, immediate change of climate was the only
remedy for my complaint. You may imagine my feelings of joy when I
heard this. I said, however, as quietly as I could, 'Well, doctor,
is there any particular spot to which you advise me to go?'

"'I fancy,' he replied, 'Salatiga will be about the best place;
it lies pretty high up, 1800 feet I think.'

"'Would not Wonosobo do just as well?' I asked, with assumed
indifference.

"'Have you any preference for that place?' he asked.

"'Oh no,' I replied, 'not exactly a preference; but the Assistant
Resident there is a friend of mine and I know several of the landowners
in the neighbourhood. At Salatiga I shall be quite a stranger and
must feel very lonely.'

"'Well then by all means,' said the doctor, 'go to Wonosobo. In fact
it lies up higher still, quite 2200 feet, that will be still better
for you.'

"The necessary certificate was soon signed, and in two days I
was seated in a travelling carriage and was off on my way to the
hills. Wonosobo, as you probably know, is 73 miles from Karang Anjer;
but what were they in my eyes? Was it the hope which began to dawn
within me, or had a reaction already set in? I cannot tell; but this
much I know, that from the very commencement of my journey, I felt as
if fresh life had been infused into me. In any other frame of mind the
trip would have been highly interesting; for the country through which
I passed was enchantingly lovely. I traversed the mountain district
of Prahoe which is quite 8000 feet above the sea-level; then I went
through the Dieng plateau, that classical volcanic region which the
German naturalist Franz Junghuhn has so graphically described. My road
then took me along Goenoeng Panggonang and Goenoeng Pakoeodja with
their still active solfataras and their springs of boiling water;
along the Telerep, that shattered old volcano whose very appearance
testifies of eruptions and convulsions which defy description; along
the Telogo Mendjer, the deep crater-lake inbedded in walls of rock and
offering one of the loveliest basins in the whole world. Then further
along the western slopes of the Goenoeng Lindoro, the fairest and most
symmetrical volcano in Java which rises to a perpendicular height of
fully 10,000 feet above the sea-level; and thus, at length, I arrived
at Wonosobo. But for all this I had no eyes. I passed unmoved by all
these marvellous beauties of nature, which in the shape of pyramids,
of jagged mountain-ridges, of steep and towering rocks, of dashing
mountain torrents, of thundering cataracts, of magnificent lakes,
of green table-lands, of picturesque valleys, of dizzy ravines, of
deep, dark precipices, of hoary forests, of delightful coffee and
tea plantations, moved before me like some wondrous and ever varied
panorama. One only thought possessed me: Anna! and I had but one
object in view, namely, to hurry on as quickly as possible and to
get to the end of my journey.

"'Come coachman, drive on, drive on!' was my only cry to the Automedon
who certainly did his best and plied his long whip with merciless
dexterity.

"But when I arrived at Wonosobo my impatience was far from being
satisfied.

"The kindest reception awaited me, and the Assistant Resident had
prepared for my entertainment on the most liberal scale. You know
the family Kleinsma, so I need enter into no details. The journey
had the most beneficial effect upon my health; but yet I had to
allow several days to pass before I could safely venture on a trip
to Karang Anjer. I made use of my stay to tell my host something,
at least, of the state of my affairs. I explained to him that I was
most anxious to avoid observation and to keep away from Poerworedjo
the capital of that district.

"'Indeed,' said Kleinsma, 'you will find that no easy matter. In that
case you will have to go by way of Kaliwiro, Ngalian, Peniron and so
to Karang Anjer.'

"'Will that take me far out of my way?' I asked, thinking that he
was alluding to the length of the journey.

"'Not at all,' was his reply. 'On the contrary you will by that road
cut off about one third of the distance; but you cannot travel in
a carriage. Our roads about here are very good; but in the interior
you can travel only on horseback. You will moreover have to take a
guide; for the roads cross one another and form so intricate a web,
that it forms a very labyrinth and, even the most accurate map would
hardly save you from losing your way altogether.'

"That prospect however could not deter me. I passed eight days in that
beautiful climate, and then, when all feverish symptoms had left me,
I undertook the journey which was, in truth, a rather perilous one. The
horse which Kleinsma had procured me was a stout Javanese mountain
nag, and, in spite of the difficult nature of the ground, he always
managed to get along at the rate of about six miles an hour. When
the road lay up the mountain, the good beast would take to galloping
without my having to use whip or spur. When the path ran downhill,
if the descent was not too steep, he would keep up a decent trot or
a good fast walk. At Ngalian I changed horses and obtained a still
better mount than my former one. Thus I got over the Besser mountains,
over the spurs of the Midangang and of the Paras and Boetak hills,
and, at four o'clock in the afternoon, I reached Karang Anjer.

"Alas! William, all this trouble proved in vain. I could gain no
information about my dear Anna. I intend to let you know all about
my disappointment on a future occasion; for the present, I have not
the courage to go on."








CHAPTER XXIX.

AT KARANG ANJER. AN ACQUITTAL.


Yes, it was true enough, all poor van Nerekool's trouble had been
absolutely in vain.

When he got to Karang Anjer he found in Mrs. Steenvlak a most amiable
and highly accomplished lady, who, in her husband's absence, received
him most kindly and hospitably; but who, as regards Anna van Gulpendam,
refused to give him the slightest information.

The young lawyer did his very best--he questioned and cross-questioned
his hostess; but he had to do with a shrewd and clever woman who was
quite able to hold her own, and would give him no direct answers. Most
amiable Mrs. Steenvlak was no doubt; but he could get no information
out of her; and all her replies to his oft-repeated questions left our
despairing lover in the greatest perplexity. He begged and entreated,
and she listened to him with the most unwearying patience, she showed
even the deepest sympathy for his distress; but nevertheless nothing
could move her to divulge anything.

"Yes," said she, "Anna has been staying with us for the last few weeks,
and I am happy to say, Mr. van Nerekool, that I succeeded in becoming
her friend, and in obtaining her confidence. I will tell you further,
that in her despair, the poor girl has told me everything--you
understand me, do you not, when I say everything? She has told me
of your mutual affection, and she has also shown me the barrier,
the insurmountable barrier, which must for ever keep you apart."

"Madam!" cried van Nerekool in dismay at her words.

"And," continued Mrs. Steenvlak, "I am bound to tell you that I think
the dear girl is right in every word she says. Of a marriage between
you and her there cannot possibly be any further question; not even if
you could succeed in winning the full consent of her parents. Utter
misery for both of you would be the inevitable result of so foolish
a step. Anna is, in my opinion, quite right when she maintains that
a woman must have an unsullied name for her dowry."

"But, madam!" passionately cried van Nerekool, "Anna is blameless
and pure!"

"I am speaking of her name, Mr. van Nerekool, not of her person. A man
must be able to pronounce his wife's name without having to blush as
he mentions it. Her parents must possess his esteem, and they must be
worthy of his respect. If those conditions do not exist then, for both
man and wife, existence must soon become intolerable. It must become so
to him; for he will always have to be carefully on his guard, weighing
every word he speaks or leaves unspoken; and this restraint soon must
banish all real confidence between them. Every heedless expression,
on the other hand, would inevitably inflict a wound upon her, and,
in the most innocent utterances, she needs must see some hidden
meaning. In fact, under such circumstances, no compromise is possible."

"But, Mrs. Steenvlak," insisted van Nerekool, "I have proposed
to Anna that we should leave Java altogether and go to Australia,
to Singapore, or to any other place she might prefer. There no one
would know the name of van Gulpendam, and we might live only for
one another--and--and, I believe that our love would enable us to
forget the dreary past, and thus a compromise might very easily be
possible. As far as I am concerned no single word would ever drop
from my lips which would allude to the past--I know how deeply any
such hint must wound her, and, believe me, I love her far too dearly
to inflict upon her the slightest pain."

"Oh yes, Mr. van Nerekool, of that I have no doubt whatever; but, you
see, that very silence, that very reticence on your part would be most
painful to her; and it would ultimately become too great a restraint
upon you also--you could not possibly bear it. But, for the matter
of that, I must tell you that, with respect to your letters to her,
she has never told me a single word."

"How could she do so?" asked van Nerekool, "all my letters have been
returned to me unopened."

"I am glad of it," replied Mrs. Steenvlak, "there again Anna has acted
most wisely; and in acting thus she has spared herself, and you too,
much useless sorrow. Every communication from you, every effort on
your part to remove the existing obstacles between you, could only
be most painful, and could not possibly lead to any good result."

"Madam!" cried van Nerekool.

"You said, for instance, just now, that you have proposed to Anna
to go to Singapore, and to be married there. But, just consider, how
could you have undertaken that journey? Separately? I do not suppose
that you could intend so young a girl to undertake such a journey
alone. Together? You feel at once how such a proposition would have
wounded her modesty and her feelings. No, I am glad indeed that she
had the courage not to read your letters."

"But, Mrs. Steenvlak," said van Nerekool, adopting another tone,
"supposing that I were prepared to accept the present circumstances
as they are?"

"What can you mean?" asked Mrs. Steenvlak in some surprise.

"Supposing," continued he, "that in spite of her parents, in spite
of all that has occurred, I should be prepared to make her my wife?"

"Mr. van Nerekool," replied Mrs. Steenvlak very seriously, "do not
speak so wildly I pray. In spite of her parents! That must mean that
you are prepared to accept all the consequences such a step would
entail. In other words, that you are prepared to show her parents that
respect and that esteem which they could justly claim from you as their
son-in-law. But do you not see that by thus acting you would be making
yourself contemptible in Anna's eyes?--you would be taking away the
last support the girl still has to cling to in her exile. Believe me,
the cruellest blow you can strike a woman of her nature, is to prove
to her that she placed her affections on one unworthy of her. The
unsullied image of him whom once she loved--whom she perhaps still
fondly loves--gives her, in spite of the obstacles which separate
you from one another, the best consolation in her sorrow. And that
pure remembrance will be to her, together with the consciousness of
having acted strictly in accordance with her duty, her chief support
in a lonely life."

As Mrs. Steenvlak was speaking, Charles van Nerekool had covered his
face with his hands. At her last words however he sprang up from his
chair, he took her hand and said:

"A lonely life you say? Oh, do tell me where Anna now is. I will go
to her, perhaps even yet I may succeed in winning her--tell me where
to find her!"

"Mr. van Nerekool," rejoined Mrs. Steenvlak, very quietly, "do not,
I pray you, try to do any such thing. She has given me her fullest
confidence, and I do not intend to betray it. She has told me every
detail, she has consulted me about the line of conduct she ought to
adopt; and in all she does she has my sanction. Do you think that I
would throw fresh difficulties in her way? You surely cannot wish me
to do so."

"But," cried van Nerekool passionately, "what does she intend to
do--what kind of plans has she formed?"

"She simply intends henceforth to live forgotten."

"Perhaps to mar--!" cried he.

"My dear sir," hastily interrupted Mrs. Steenvlak, "do not pronounce
that word, I forbid you to do so. In your mouth such a word conveys a
foul calumny. She has refused your hand--she will never marry another."

"But what then does she intend to do?"

"I have told you," replied Mrs. Steenvlak, "she intends to live in
perfect solitude and oblivion; and thus she wishes quietly to await
death, which, she hopes, will soon release her from all her troubles."

"She is ill then?" cried he in dismay.

"No, she is not ill," replied Mrs. Steenvlak; "but such a trial as
she has gone through is not at all unlikely to impair a young girl's
health; and may very probably shorten her life."

"Madam," cried van Nerekool, "your words are torture!"

"I am telling you the simple truth."

"Oh tell me--where is she?"

"Never," was the quiet reply.

"Is she in Java? Is she in India?"

"I will not give you the slightest clue."

"Has she gone to Europe? Oh, I beg and pray you, have pity upon me
and deliver me from this fearful suspense?"

"I will tell you nothing at all. Do you understand me, Mr. van
Nerekool? nothing at all."

"Can I not in any way move you to pity?"

"No, Mr. van Nerekool, I intend to remain true to my word and,
moreover--"

"But, madam," interrupted van Nerekool vehemently, "you must take
pity upon my wretchedness!"

"Moreover," continued Mrs. Steenvlak calmly, "I feel certain that in
acting as I am doing, and in keeping absolute silence, I am preventing
much future misery."

"You are hard, you are pitiless!" cried the young man in despair,
as he rushed from the house. For a couple of days longer he stayed at
Karang Anjer, at the house of the regent of that dessa who entertained
him with the utmost hospitality.

He cross-examined his host. "Yes--he knew nonna Anna well. She had
frequently, in company with the njonja, called upon his wife; but
she had gone away without letting anyone know where she intended to
go to. His wife and he thought that she had gone back to Santjoemeh."

The unhappy lover kept wandering about the neighbourhood, making
inquiries everywhere. He tried to obtain some clue from the
loerahs, from the overseer, from the postmasters round about; but
nowhere--nowhere--could he obtain the slightest information. Either
these people really knew nothing, or else they were obeying orders
and would tell him nothing. This seemed to van Nerekool most likely,
as he heard at a certain posting station that no one could tell where
the young lady had gone. During his wanderings he sat down at many
a guard house, and again and again he put the same question: "Could
anyone tell him where to look for the young European lady?" But it
was only to receive the same answer over and over again, "No, sir."

In his distress and perplexity, he at length left Karang Anjer and
went to Tjilatjap, for he wanted to find out whether there was any
truth in the report which van Gulpendam had so assiduously circulated,
namely that his daughter had gone to Europe. Very luckily for him the
regent of Karang Anjer possessed a travelling carriage which he placed
at the disposal of his guest. This was a most fortunate thing for van
Nerekool; for he would otherwise have had to travel the fifty-two
miles to the harbour on horseback, and, in his desponding frame of
mind, the fatigue of so long a journey might have had the most serious
effect upon his health. The road from Karang Anjer to Tjilatjap lies
on one continuous plain which is but very little above the sea-level,
while the hills which rise close to the Indian Ocean run north and
south, thus preventing the free circulation of land and sea breezes
and rendering the atmosphere exceedingly oppressive and stifling.

When van Nerekool reached the harbour, he found that there also he
could obtain no tidings. Neither the assistant resident of that place,
nor the harbour-master nor any of the agents of the steam Navigation
Company--nor, in fact any of the other shipping agents, knew anything
about the departure of a young girl to Australia or to any other
country. For months past no strange ship had sailed from that port;
and the boats of the India Navigation Company which run to Australia,
do not go along the South coast of Java but get into the Indian Ocean
by the Bali straits. It was evident, therefore, that van Gulpendam's
tale of two ladies under whose escort Anna travelled to Europe,
was a merely trumped-up story.

Weary and sick at heart, van Nerekool was forced to return to Wonosobo
by way of Bandjar Negara. There he stayed for a little while longer,
and when, in that magnificent climate, he had almost entirely regained
his health and strength, he went back to Santjoemeh where he found
his friends, August van Beneden, Leendert Grashuis, Theodoor Grenits
and Edward van Rheijn anxiously waiting to welcome him home.

"Well?" was the question of all of them as soon as they had made
inquiries after their friend's health, "well?"

The question alluded of course to his inquiries, for the anxiety and
the efforts of van Nerekool had remained no secret among them.

"Nothing!" replied van Nerekool fetching a deep sigh, "I have found
out nothing, not even the faintest clue."

"No more have I," added Grenits.

"You?" asked Charles in surprise.

"Yes," rejoined the young merchant. "I also have been at work. I
have made inquiries amongst all the commercial men in Dutch India;
but from all sides I have had but one answer. 'No young girl in any
way corresponding to the description of Miss van Gulpendam has started
from any of the shipping stations.'"

"You think therefore--?" asked van Nerekool.

"I think that Miss van Gulpendam has not left Java at all."

"But where on earth can she be then?" cried van Rheijn.

"God only knows!" sighed van Nerekool.

"But her parents?" observed Leendert Grashuis, "we can hardly suppose
that a young lady of her age could have thus disappeared without
consulting her parents."

"No," said van Rheijn, "especially as we know that Resident van
Gulpendam is not exactly the papa to play tricks with."

"Yet," rejoined van Nerekool, "I am of opinion that neither the
Resident nor his wife have the least idea where Anna now is."

Thereupon he told his friends all about his conversation with
Mrs. Steenvlak; and when he had given them a detailed account of
all that passed between him and that lady, he concluded by saying,
"She only could give us the information we want if she would."

"If that be so," remarked van Beneden, "we ought to search in the
neighbourhood of Karang Anjer."

"I have done so," was van Nerekool's reply, "I have most minutely
searched the entire district. I have questioned everybody whom I
considered in the least likely to know anything about her movements;
but all my inquiries have ended in nothing."

"Well, Charles," said Grashuis, "in that case I can see nothing for
it than to leave the solution of the mystery to time."

"To time!" sighed van Nerekool, "I suppose you are right; but, my
dear friends, I am most wretched and most miserable."

"You must get to business and, by hard work, seek to divert your
thoughts," said van Beneden. "I can assure you that your absence has
not diminished the arrears of work at the Court of Justice. At all
events, brooding over your troubles can do no good whatever."

"Well," replied van Nerekool, "to work then. God grant that hard work
may have the effect you anticipate."

"That reminds me," remarked Grenits, "that to-morrow I shall have to
appear in court."

"You? what for?"

"Don't you remember Mokesuep's business?"

"Oh, aye, for the cuffs you administered to that scoundrel!"

"That will mean eight days for you, friend Theodoor," observed van
Beneden, "eight days at least of seclusion. Well, that's not so very
formidable after all."

August van Beneden was not very far wrong, for the court condemned
Grenits to ten days' imprisonment and to pay a fine of twenty-five
guilders for the assault, which, though it had led to no serious
consequences, was no light offence, inasmuch as it had been committed
on the person of a witness in a case of opium smuggling. The sentence
would probably have been much more severe; but the court made allowance
for the natural feelings of indignation called forth by the shameful
conduct of the opium police towards a defenceless young girl, at which
the plaintiff Mokesuep had been present without interfering to protect
her from insult. No sooner had the sentence been pronounced, than
every hand in a crowded court was stretched out to Theodoor Grenits,
while Mokesuep was shunned like some venomous reptile. The public
did not look upon the punishment in the light of a degradation at
all; and Grenits became the hero of the hour. A few days after this,
baboe Dalima's case came on before the native court at Santjoemeh.

The Javanese girl most emphatically denied that any opium had been
found in her possession, she even swore that she had not been searched
for any such object. She gave a very simple and unvarnished account
of all that had taken place; but the testimony of Mrs. van Gulpendam
and that of Mokesuep contradicted her assertions. The former handed
in a written statement to the effect that she had not given the baboe
leave to spend the night outside the Residence; but had only given her
permission to start on the next morning, and that she had, in fact, set
her a pretty heavy task of needlework to finish before going. Mokesuep
swore that the girl's story was a fabrication from beginning to end,
that she had violently resisted the search for opium and had bitten
Lim Ho's ear as he made an attempt at holding her hands. That, in this
struggle with the bandoelan, her dress had become torn and deranged,
and that she might very probably have received a few scratches,
but that there had been nothing resembling the outrage of which she
accused Lim Ho.

The medical officer also was examined, and he maintained that there
could have been no such assault as the girl complained of; he spoke
only of some slight abrasions which had occasioned a trifling loss
of blood.

In all this evidence the demoralising influence of the opium farmer
could plainly be seen; but however conscientious might have been the
new president who now occupied Mr. Zuidhoorn's place, the evidence
must have compelled him to dismiss the complaint lodged by Dalima
against Lim Ho.

The court, therefore, proceeded to deal with the charge of opium
smuggling of which the baboe stood accused.

The deposition left by the murdered bandoelan Singomengolo was positive
enough. It stated most distinctly that, hidden in the folds of her
sarong and under the waistband, he had found a box full of opium. That
the box in question had been delivered to Controller Verstork and
had been sealed up by him. That the contents had been examined and
were found to consist of eight matas of opium of coarse and blackish
appearance, and of a sourish smell, and that, therefore, it could
not have been obtained from the opium farmer in a legitimate way.

But, when the little box was produced in court and was shown to Lim Ho,
he hesitated for a while, and at length said that the struggle which
was going on prevented him from actually seeing Singomengolo produce
the box and that, moreover, his ear was very painful, and he was at
the time busy in trying to staunch the blood. He could not, therefore,
declare that he had seen the box at all until Singomengolo handed it
to Verstork. It thus appeared that the man, though a vile scoundrel,
was not wholly devoid of better feelings.

Not so, however, with Mokesuep. When he entered the witness-box,
bound by his oath to utter nothing but the truth, he did not for an
instant scruple to say that he had actually seen Singomengolo discover
the box hidden in the girl's clothing; and in giving his evidence he
entered so minutely into detail and gave so graphic a description of
the poor girl's struggles, that he fairly disgusted all present. Very
ominous murmurs of disapprobation arose among the crowd. This went so
far, that at length the president had to interfere, and to request
the witness to confine himself strictly to the facts, as all such
embellishments and elaborate descriptions were clearly superfluous.

The chief-djaksa appeared as public prosecutor, and, as this was
Dalima's first offence, he demanded that she should be condemned to
three months' hard labour.

August van Beneden however stood up for the defence, and drew the
attention of the court to the fact that the small box which had been
produced, was precisely similar to that other one which the bandoelan
pretended to have discovered in the hut of Setrosmito the defendant's
father. He further mentioned the rather strange coincidence, that,
on the body of Singomengolo, after his murder, a number of other
little boxes were found, all precisely similar again to that produced
against Dalima. He called the coppersmith from whom the bandoelan
had procured these boxes, and this man swore that Singomengolo had
bought twelve of them from him, at the price of seven guilders.

August van Beneden took advantage of this man's evidence to remind
the court of the dodges and tricks which all opium hunters were
well known to employ in order to secure the conviction of any one
they might accuse. Finally he altogether disputed the authority of
the individuals who had testified to the nature and value of the
opium. The document they had drawn up as containing the result of
their examination, he rejected as absolutely valueless; inasmuch as
it was the work of Chinamen who were no chemists at all; but had
come to the conclusion that the drug could not have been obtained
through the regular channels, simply on the evidence of colour, taste,
and smell. He pointed out that, as a general rule, the worst opium
smugglers were the farmers themselves, and that, in hardly any two
cases were their wretched mixtures alike. In fact he defied even the
most expert chemist to establish anything like perfect similarity
between two different decoctions of the same farmer.

The young advocate was completely successful; and the court at
Santjoemeh declared that the charge against baboe Dalima had not been
satisfactorily established, and therefore acquitted her. She was set
at liberty there and then, and the treasury was ordered to pay the
costs of the prosecution.

The verdict was hailed with thundering applause, and the public
became so demonstrative that the president had peremptorily to call
for silence. Mokesuep left the court amidst looks and gestures of
the most profound contempt and much hissing and hooting. He got into
his carriage as quickly as he could and immediately drove off. It
was evident that the public was well aware of what had taken place
in the hut by the Djoerang Pringapoes, and that everybody knew the
odious part Mokesuep had played in the transaction.

The trial was no sooner over than a crowd of well-wishers surrounded
the unfortunate Javanese girl Every one could plainly enough see the
painful situation she was in, and pitied her accordingly. Had the
law allowed further inquiry, Lim Ho might have found himself in a
difficult position; but as no legal remedy existed, the public showed
the greatest sympathy towards his victim. On all sides she received
congratulations on the happy issue of her trial, on all sides she heard
kind words and friendly offers. Van Nerekool, Grenits, Grashuis, van
Rheijn, and van Beneden, were of course close to the poor creature who,
though deeply moved by the sympathy she received, yet could not refrain
from shedding tears of sorrow as she thought of her blighted youth. Van
Nerekool proposed to place her in the house of an aged couple where
she might be sure of the kindest treatment in return for such services
as she could render to the mistress of the house. Dalima heartily
thanked the young judge for his great kindness; but she told him that
she intended to take up her abode with her mother until after the
event she was expecting. The poor girl was a genuine child of nature,
and felt no false shame as she spoke of her misfortune. She took that
opportunity, however, to gain some information about nonna Anna. But,
as we know, Charles van Nerekool could tell her nothing more than that
her young mistress had spent some time at Karang Anjer, and thereupon
had disappeared without leaving any clue as to her whereabouts.

"Karang Anjer? where is that?" asked Dalima, musingly.

Van Nerekool gave her the necessary directions, and then he proceeded
to join his friends whom Grenits had invited to his house to drink
a glass together in honour of van Beneden's victory. It was getting
somewhat late in the day and the sun's rays darting down almost
perpendicularly made the heat most oppressive; but a good pair of
horses soon brought our friends to Grenits' door.

Glad enough to get under cover, they all rushed in, and Grenits at
once cried out to his servant, "Sidin, get us some fizz quickly!" and
a few moments after the young men were congratulating van Beneden on
his well-merited success in a glass of sparkling Veuve Clicquot.

After the first burst of excitement was over, and when they had
begun to discuss somewhat more calmly the incidents of the trial,
a feeling of disappointment began to prevail.

"Is it not enough to make one despair altogether of the future of our
fair Indian possessions," cried Grashuis, "when we come to think that
we are sitting here congratulating one another on the issue of such
a case as this? Every single person, including even the members of
the court itself, is convinced that poor little Dalima is the victim
of a most detestable outrage and yet, not only does the real culprit
escape scot free, but the innocent girl herself was very near being
found guilty, and punished for a purely imaginary offence! Could such
a thing ever have happened at home? There must be something radically
wrong in our entire colonial system."

"I will tell you in one word," replied Grenits, "where the mischief
lies, it is the abominable opium trade which is at the bottom of all
this, which overrules and demoralises everything out here. You heard
the head-djaksa's prosecution? Did you ever see anything more neatly
put together? Did you notice how cleverly all the witnesses who might
have spoken in Dalima's favour were got out of the way? Verstork
sent to Atjeh, Miss van Gulpendam smuggled away somehow or other,
while Mokesuep did not fail to put in an appearance."

"The brute!" muttered van Rheijn.

"Yes," continued Grenits, "and if it had not been for our friend
August, that poor girl would have been found guilty as so many others
have been who have been falsely accused of opium crimes. Just now
you asked, Leendert, whether any such thing could possibly happen
in Holland. I do not take upon myself to say what may be possible
or impossible there; but this one thing I do know, that our whole
opium-system is derived from thence, that year by year the opium
revenue keeps on rising by several millions; and that thus the passion
for opium is, by every possible means, excited to its utmost pitch. I
further know that our Government and our Government officials are thus
compelled by the authorities at home to support the opium farmers and
to wink at all their dirty tricks with their attendant train of fatal
consequences. Is it not enough to make one hide one's head for shame
when we come to think that we belong to a nation whose sordid love of
money and grasping avarice not only tolerate such a state of things,
but actually fosters and encourages it?"

All present shook their heads and sighed; for the words Grenits
uttered were the simple truth.

"But," inquired van Rheijn, "ought we to blame the nation for all
this? Ought we not rather to find fault with the Government which
countenances such abuses?"

"The Government!" impatiently exclaimed Grenits, "a nation always
deserves the Government it has. Yes, of course, it is the Government
which issues the orders and which acts; but the nation looks on
and--is loud in its praises of a minister who can boast that he makes
as much out of the business as can be squeezed from it. It seems to
me that the Dutch people have either lost their manliness altogether
or else are on the verge of idiocy. It has no eye, no heart for its
colonies, no feeling whatever, nothing, only one single thought:
'that minister balances his budget admirably!' And then the minister,
feeling certain of success and applause, actually in his place in the
House allows himself to perpetrate jests which an ordinary individual
would be ashamed to utter in a pot-house. Then his friends applaud and
the legislature seems to consider his jokes a very pretty exhibition
of wit."

Fortunately, however, at this moment Sidin came in, and his appearance
checked the young merchant's indignant flow of words, a thing which
his friends might not have found it easy to do. The Javanese servant
held two formidable looking letters in his hand, which he offered to
his master.

"By Jove," cried van Rheijn, "two official letters! I bet you that
it is the order to send you to jail."

Grenits made no reply, but quietly opened one of the letters.

"Only a very commonplace marriage announcement," said he when he
had glanced at the paper; and then, when he had looked at it again,
he cried out:

"I say, boys, here's fun! just listen to me:--'Mr. and Mrs. Lim Yang
Bing and Mr. and Mrs. Ngow Ming Than have the honour to announce the
approaching marriage of Mr. Lim Ho, son of the former, to Miss Ngow
Ming Nio daughter of the latter. The marriage ceremony will take place
on the third of September next, and a reception will subsequently
be held at the residence of Mr. Lim Yang Bing in the Gang Pinggir
at Santjoemeh.'"

"Piping hot," remarked Grenits, "poor Dalima's trial is scarcely over!"

"A Chinese wedding must be a curious affair," said van Rheijn. "You
are going eh?"

"You may go if you like," returned van Nerekool, "I have not the
slightest objection, if only you will allow me to stay at home. I
could not, for the life of me, hold out my hand to that scoundrel
Lim Ho, or offer him even the most formal congratulations."

"Come, come," said Grashuis. "There will no doubt be a great crowd,
and it will be easy enough to get out of that part of the ceremony
without being remarked at all; who is to notice it?"

"That's right!" laughed Grenits, "that's it 'des accommodements avec
le ciel!' But just let me see what this second document is about. Upon
my word, Edward, you would have won your bet. The day after to-morrow,
I have to surrender myself into the custody of the jailer to undergo
my sentence of ten consecutive days of imprisonment."

For a few moments, a silence fell upon all present. They quite
justified Grenits' conduct, and in fact applauded it as a generous
outburst of manly indignation. But yet the fact of ten days'
imprisonment threw a gloom over these young men, who were so full of
vigour and life. The condemned man, however, was the first to regain
his cheerfulness, "Well, my friends," cried he, "you will try and
preserve me from feeling too lonely, I hope."

"That we will!" cried one, "I have a splendid novel by Ebers, called
Serapis, it has only just come out, I will send it you."

"And I," exclaimed another, "I shall have my piano sent up to the jail,
then you can strum away to your heart's content."

"And we will come and sit with you as often as we possibly can,
you will not lack company."

"That's best of all!" cried Grenits gaily.

"I will bring my fiddle."

"Yes, and I my flute."

"Then," laughed Grenits, "we shall get the whole jail to execute a
sarabande de condamnés."

"The sarabande is all very well," remarked van Beneden; "but I think
we might do something better than that."

"Well, what is it?" asked all in chorus.

"You remember, do you not, that as we were seated together under
the Wariengien tree on the green at Kaligaweh, I proposed making an
experiment in opium smoking, in order to find out what its effect
really is. Very well, on Sunday next, we might carry out that plan."

"Capital! a capital idea!"

"But," asked Grashuis, "who will provide the opium and the pipe?"

"Leave that to me," replied van Rheijn, "don't trouble about that,
I shall get all we require."

"All right, gentlemen," said Grenits, "that's a bargain!"

As he spoke he shook hands with his friends, and the company broke up.








CHAPTER XXX.

BABOE DALIMA'S JOURNEY.


A long the rough mountain path which runs winding through the volcanic
region of Soembrieng and Lindoro, baboe Dalima, a few days after her
acquittal and release, was stepping along with her usual firm and
springy tread. She was clad with the utmost simplicity in sarong and
kabaja, but was as neat and tidy as in the days when she was Anna's
favourite servant. On her shoulder, tied up in a shawl, she carried
a bundle containing probably some articles of wearing apparel. We
must notice also that she was not barefooted; but wore a pair of
sandals to the use of which she seemed perfectly accustomed. It was
evident, therefore, that the girl intended to take a long journey,
while her outward appearance showed that she must already have got
over a considerable amount of ground. How then did Dalima get to the
spot where now we find her, at so great a distance from Kaligaweh,
and what was the object of her journey?

Immediately after her release, she had made, as we saw in the last
chapter, some anxious inquiries after nonna Anna. When she was
told that her young mistress had gone to Karang Anjer and had then
disappeared without leaving a trace, her simple brain had set to work;
and there arose within her the determination to go and seek for Anna
on her own account. She had but little comprehension of the social
relations which exist between Europeans; but somehow her instinct
told her that her beloved Nana must be in distress. She felt that the
dear girl must be sorely in need of a companion, and so the faithful
creature at once devoted herself to share the load of sorrow with
her former mistress. But, Karang Anjer was a great way off--in her
estimation the distance seemed infinite. Her friends in the dessa had
told her that it lay somewhere yonder, not far from the great sea,
and near to the territory of the Queen of the south, a mysterious
being of whom the Javanese stand in the greatest awe.

But all that could not deter her. She made up her mind to summon up
courage and to plod resolutely on, even though, as her friends again
had informed her, the road might take her along seething solfataras,
along burning mountains, along dizzying precipices and through
lonely forests. She could travel only by day for fear of the wild
beasts. Other fears she had none; for she knew that no man would
wantonly molest her; and her outward appearance was not such as
to suggest that she had anything to lose. And yet she did possess
a treasure, which she had anxiously hoarded and had tied up in a
handkerchief and now was carrying with her in the bundle which hung
from her shoulder. When she lay in prison at Santjoemeh, nonna Anna
had, from time to time, sent her small sums of money; van Beneden
also and van Nerekool when they visited her to gather particulars
for her defence, never failed to leave a few coins with the poor
Javanese girl. All these presents she had thankfully accepted and
most carefully saved up; for she always had an eye to the future. In
this manner she had collected quite forty guilders, and this money,
she had before starting, changed into twopenny and fivepenny pieces,
knowing well that the sight of guilders or rixdollars might attract
the attention of the evil-disposed, and might bring trouble upon her.

This money had, in fact, for some time been constantly present to her
mind, and had been the cause of some hesitation before she finally
could make up her mind to undertake her long journey. She had anxiously
hoarded it to meet the expenses which she knew must soon come upon
her. The money was dear to her, for she would not be a burden upon
her poor mother, who, now that her father was a prisoner, had already
trouble enough to feed her little brothers and sisters. This money she
had clung to, for young as she was, she knew that a time of need would
soon be at hand. But all these considerations vanished as she thought
of her Nana--then she wavered no longer. Her own unhappy condition,
indeed, gave her but little uneasiness. She knew how kind-hearted
her country-women are, and she felt sure that in the hour of need,
she would find some hospitable roof to shelter her; and that even the
very poorest would reach her a helping hand, and would gladly share
her modest ration of rice with a traveller in distress.

Once, at Kaligaweh, Dalima had received a visit from M`Bok Kârijâh,
the loathsome confidante of Mrs. van Gulpendam. Perhaps it was at that
lady's suggestion that the old hag went to see her. She had whispered
to her something about a medicine made from the Clitoria Ternatea. At
first poor Dalima had not understood what she meant and had opened
her eyes wide with surprise--she knew nothing, of course, of the
connection between the filthy old hag and the Resident's lady. But
when the crone pretended to sympathise with her in her misfortune; and
proceeded to speak out more plainly--then the girl's indignation and
disgust knew no bounds, and she drove the old hag from her presence,
threatening to rouse the entire dessa against her should she venture
to show her face again. Her nature revolted at the foul crime which
M`Bok dared to suggest, such practices she was quite content to leave
to the more highly favoured daughters of civilisation.

Thus then had she started on her journey, and, with the little
bundle which contained all her earthly possessions on her back,
she had trudged over hill and dale; and after eight days of steady
walking, she was beginning to draw near to her destination. Whenever,
at nightfall, she reached some dessa she would at once seek out the
native priest and tell him that she was travelling to Karang Anjer
in search for her father whom she hoped to find there.

Perceiving the plight she was in, the good man then used generally
to direct her to some kind-hearted woman, who willingly took her in
for the night, and not unfrequently refused to take the small coin
she tendered in payment for her lodging. Sometimes even they would
give her a couple of small parcels of boiled rice as provision on the
road. But she was not always so fortunate. Sometimes it happened that
she could not well make out the directions given to her, and thus
night would come on before she could reach any inhabited spot. Then
she used to beg for a resting-place on the bench of some guard-house,
and her prayer was never refused. But, on one occasion, even this poor
resource failed her. Her road that evening lay through a dense wood,
the sun was about to set, and under the thick foliage it soon grew
pitch dark. She could keep to the path only by looking upward and
following the narrow strip of sky which showed through the tree-tops
stretching along in the same direction as the rough road. The stars
were twinkling brightly, and for some time she listened breathlessly
hoping to hear some sound, such as the late crowing of a cock, or the
measured strokes on the rice tomboks, which might lead her to some
human dwelling. Then she hurried on again; but she did not come across
even a detached guard-house. At length she was suddenly brought to a
standstill by the shrill discordant "meoh! meoh!" of a peacock which,
perched in the upper branches of a lofty tree, thus announced that the
last glimmer of light was disappearing in the west. Dalima stopped
in terror, for she well knew that the peacock is hardly ever heard
in the woods unless a tiger is near. Soon, however, she recovered
her presence of mind, and quickly glancing round, she plunged into
the wood and began to climb into a tree which stood close by. She
was not indeed very well fitted for such gymnastics; but carefully
clambering up, she, with some trouble, managed to reach one of the
lower branches. As soon as she got there she felt safe. A panther
will rarely attack mankind, and the tiger, she knew, does not climb
trees. So she tried to make herself as comfortable as she could on the
branch which was, fortunately, quite thick enough to bear her weight,
and grew out horizontally so as to form a kind of seat. But that night
of nearly eleven hours seemed to her of interminable length. She
did not dare to give way to sleep, fearing that she might lose her
balance and fall to the ground, and the branch on which she tried to
settle herself, and the trunk against which she leaned, were covered
with a thick knotty bark, which pressed into her limbs and gave her
great pain. Again and again she attempted to change her position,
but the relief thus obtained was only temporary. Then she tried to
assume the squatting attitude which is customary with the natives;
but, in clambering up the tree, the sandals had dropped from her feet,
and the rough bark, cutting into the soles of her feet, soon made
that position unbearable. To these discomforts was added the plague of
myriads of insects, such as ants, mosquitoes, sundry kinds of beetles
and other pests, which settled upon her, and caused the most frightful
itching, while her hands, which supported her, and with which she had
to keep her balance, were not always free to brush the tormentors away.

She had also been obliged to drop her bundle, which contained her
clothes, her money, in fact all she possessed; but she felt no anxiety
on that account. No human being was present in that wood, and even if
any one had been lurking about, he would hardly have been wandering
in the dark just under the tree where she was seated. As for the
animals which might be roving about, they would not disturb her little
bundle. So the night crept slowly along, and it was with a deep sigh of
relief that the poor girl at length welcomed the first faint streak of
grey which began to tinge the eastern horizon. But she had much longer
still to wait and endure the pain which every instant was getting more
acute. For, during the night, she had heard very alarming sounds. The
hoarse and terrible hoh! heoh! of the tiger had resounded more than
once. There was no mistaking that well-known cry, and however painful
her position might be, she could not yet venture to descend. Indeed
the tiger is never more formidable than just at dawn of day--then he
prowls about noiselessly like a huge cat seeking for his prey--then he
hurries off to the nearest water hole to quench his burning thirst,
and to lay in his provision of water for the day. In one word, she
knew that the hour of early dawn is the most dangerous; and she felt
that she must still have patience. On that branch she must remain
perched until the sun was fairly above the horizon, and the daylight
had penetrated the foliage, driving all evil beasts to their lairs.

Soon she found that she had done well to be patient, for once again
the peacock gave forth his screeching meoh! meoh! thus hailing the
dawn as he had the evening before greeted the last glow of the setting
sun. Thus Dalima knew that the tiger was close by. So she kept her
seat high up on her branch, shivering with cold in the keen morning
air, while she watched the faint streak of light gradually expanding
and deepening, and the stars fading away one by one. Gradually the
rosy tint of morning began to spread to the zenith, driving back the
damp shadows deeper and deeper into the wood. Oh! how slowly time
seemed to go by! how lazily the sun seemed to rise! And no wonder;
for the agony she was enduring was growing well-nigh intolerable. She
twisted and stretched her cramped limbs as she anxiously peered all
around. Under her feet all was as yet dusky and grey. She could only
just descry her bundle lying under her on the grass, and her sandals
at the foot of the tree; but overhead the light was already shining,
and the choir of birds was beginning to carol forth its morning hymn
of praise. But how slowly time crept on! She saw the sky assuming a
deeper and ruddier hue, while the East was clad in glorious purple. The
clouds, the trees, the leaves, the branches above were all bathed in
gold, and presently the light broke through to the bottom of the wood.

Then the sun rose in his majesty and flooded everything in dazzling
radiance. At length Dalima felt that she could safely leave her
perch, and after giving another look round and observing the same
precautions she used in clambering up, she began to descend. As soon
as she reached the ground in safety, she stretched her numbed limbs,
then she took up her bundle, in which she fortunately found a couple
of parcels of rice. Swarms of ants were evidently anxious to share her
breakfast with her; but these she soon got rid of. A little stream
was murmuring close by, to this she hastened and bathed her face,
her feet, and her arms in the cool refreshing water. Thus, having
somewhat recovered from her painful night-watch, she sat down and
enjoyed her rice, and a draught from the clear brook. Then with fresh
courage and renewed strength, she continued her journey.

The whole of that day she plodded along patiently until she came to
a guard-house, where she heard the joyful news that the next dessa
she would come to was Karang Anjer.

"How far is it from here?" she asked.

The man looked puzzled; for your Javanese is not much of a hand at
judging distances. However, after a few moments' reflection, he told
her that she would have to pass about fifty telegraph poles.

Next day, with fresh courage she resumed her journey, and, after a
good half-hour's walking, she reached the dessa.

She lost no time in inquiring for the house of Mrs. Steenvlak and,
having found it, she sent in her name to the njonja, adding that she
was the baboe of nonna Anna. During her stay with the Steenvlaks, Anna
had often, very often, spoken about her faithful servant, and always in
terms of the greatest kindness and affection, so that Dalima found the
most cordial reception. But, as regards the main object of her long
journey, the poor baboe could get no information whatever. Prayers
and entreaties were alike in vain. To all her questions she could
obtain no other answer than, "I do not know."

"But, njonjaa, Nana has been staying with you here," cried the
poor girl.

"Yes, Dalima, that is so."

"But where is she now, njaa?"

"She has gone away."

"Yes, njaa; but where is she?"

"That I cannot tell you."

The faithful young girl twisted and turned her questions in
every conceivable way--most plaintively she lengthened out her
"njonjaaa"--but she could get no answer.

Did Mrs. Steenvlak really not know what had become of Anna? That was
hardly probable. Might she perhaps have some suspicion that Dalima had
been sent on her errand by van Nerekool? That was precisely what the
lady did think probable. She knew that the girl was well aware of the
affection which existed between her mistress and the young lawyer, and,
moreover, Dalima had, in the course of conversation quite innocently
remarked, that Charles van Nerekool had visited her in the prison at
Santjoemeh, and that she had received money from him. Mrs. Steenvlak
was very far indeed from harbouring any sinister suspicions against
Dalima; she saw perfectly well that love for her mistress was
the only motive that had brought her all that distance. But yet,
she could not help thinking that this devotion to Anna was mingled
with some feeling of gratitude for the European gentleman who had
showed himself so kind to Dalima in her distress. And again, might
not the girl honestly imagine that in bringing the lovers together
she was promoting the happiness of both? These considerations made
Mrs. Steenvlak very guarded in her replies.

"Njonjaa," began Dalima again, "do tell me where I may find my Nana."

"I have told you already, and I tell you again, that I know nothing
about it," was the lady's answer.

"But, njaa, tell me, do you know where she has gone to?" cried Dalima,
wringing her hands.

"No, I tell you--how should I, baboe?"

"But you know at least in which direction she went?" asked the girl,
still sticking to her point.

"Of course," replied Mrs. Steenvlak, "I know that."

"Oh, then, tell me," cried the sobbing girl, with a ray of hope in
her swollen eyes.

"I may not, I cannot tell you, baboe."

"But why not, njaa?"

"Because, before Anna left me she made me promise her--"

"What, njaa?"

"That I would let no one know--no one, do you understand me, Dalima?"

"That does not apply to me, you may trust me, njaa."

"No, no," replied Mrs. Steenvlak, "I will trust no one--Anna was
particularly anxious that I should not speak."

"But, perhaps she is in need of my help, njaa. Where can she be? She
is not fit to take care of herself, she is not accustomed to it. Do
tell me," sobbed the poor girl again, "I must find my Nana."

"No," said Mrs. Steenvlak firmly, "a promise once made must not be
broken, you know that as well as I do, Dalima."

For all her firmness, the kind-hearted lady was deeply moved by the
devotion of the poor creature, who had already gone through so much
suffering in her little life, that it was a wonder her temper had not
been soured altogether by misfortune. She was half sorry that she had
given her word to Anna; but yet, until she was authorised to do so,
she did not feel justified in breaking silence.

"The best advice I can give you," she said at length, as she looked
with much compassion at the girl who sat sobbing at her feet, "is to
return at once to Santjoemeh, or better still to Kaligaweh. Can I do
anything for you to help you on your journey back?"

Baboe Dalima sadly shook her head.

"Come, come, you will want some money on the road, eh?" and opening her
purse she took out four rix-dollars and put them into the girl's hand.

Without uttering a word, Dalima accepted the gift, and carefully tied
up the money in her handkerchief. Then she rose, respectfully kissed
Mrs. Steenvlak's hand, and disappeared.

As soon as she got outside, she muttered, "That gives me so many more
days to look for Nana."

Dalima's wants were but few. A couple of pence for her lodging,
some twenty, or five and twenty cents for her food--that was all
she required. Instead of leaving Karang Anjer, she continued to
wander about the neighbourhood. She questioned, she inquired, she
managed to penetrate everywhere. She could do what van Nerekool,
as a European, and in his position as judge, was not able to do. She
would, for instance, sit down at every small fruit and coffee stall she
found on her way. At one place she would sit down and eat some rice,
flavoured with red pepper; at another place again she would purchase
some rasped cocoa-nut sweetened with the syrup of goela-areng; at
another little stall again she would sip a cup of coffee or eat a
bunch of ramboetans. These delicacies she could purchase for a very
few cents, sometimes they cost her nothing at all; for the woman who
kept the stall would look strangely at her, and when she produced her
money would quietly put it back, and say: "Never mind, keep that for
your baby, and take another cup of coffee, you are welcome to it."

But Dalima did not sit down at these stalls to enjoy herself--she did
so because it gave her an opportunity of asking questions and making
inquiries. But, alas, all her perseverance and all her endeavours
were, for a considerable time, fruitless. During the first few days
of her wandering, she learned absolutely nothing. She was beginning
to despair, and to give up all hope of success. She was, however,
soon to have her reward; for on a certain day, as she was slowly
walking through the dessa Prembanan, which is situated about three
miles to the southwest of Karang Anjer, she obtained some information
which seemed to point in the right direction.

A woman told her that, on a certain day, about two months ago,
one of the poles of a light litter suddenly snapped, and a fresh
pole had to be procured. The bearers put down the litter and, as a
bamboo of sufficient length and strength was not very easily found,
some considerable delay ensued. During this time of waiting, a nonna
had stepped out of the litter, and had taken a seat at the stall,
and called for a cup of coffee.

"A nonna, you say?" cried Dalima breathless with excitement: "are
you sure of that?"

"Oh, yes, quite sure," replied the woman. "She was dressed exactly
like all Javanese girls, in a very simple sarong and a plain cotton
kabaja, and she had sandals on her feet. But those feet had evidently
been but little exposed to the sun, they were very small, very white,
and not at all flattened out as our feet are. I fancy that not even
the princesses at Sala have fairer and tinier feet; but for that
matter she might perhaps have been a princess."

"Why do you think so?" asked Dalima.

"Well, she spoke Javanese; but entirely with the a sound so that I
had some difficulty in catching what she said."

"You spoke to her then, ma?"

"Yes, I did," replied the stall-keeper, "she spoke with something of
your accent."

"But what did she say to you, ma?"

"She first asked for coffee and then for ramboetans."

"Did she say anything more?--do try and remember."

"Oh, yes; she further asked me how far it is from here to the dessa
Sikaja, and I told her that it is about two miles off."

"Anything else?" cried Dalima impatiently.

"Then she asked how far Sikaja is from the dessa Pringtoetoel; but
I could not tell her that, as I know nothing of the country beyond
our own district."

"Did you hear her say anything more, ma?"

"No."

"But ma, did you see her face?"

"Certainly I did," replied the woman, "why not?"

"And?" asked Dalima, anxiously.

"Her features were those of a white woman, though rather dark. Her face
and hands, however, did not correspond in colour with her feet. In
fact I suspected at the time that she had stained them. But perhaps
the nonna had been running about a good deal in the sun."

"And her hair, ma?" asked Dalima.

"It was tied up in a knot."

"What colour was it, ma?"

"It was as black as yours; but much softer, it looked like silk and
was wavy. Oh, yes! now I feel sure she was a nonna."

"Yes," thought Dalima, "it is she;" and then she continued aloud:

"She asked you no other question, ma?"

"No, nothing else," replied the stall-keeper.

Dalima did not stay long--a quarter of an hour later she was on her
way to Sikaja. How she sped there, we shall see later on. The day
after, she reappeared in Karang Anjer; but it was only to fetch the
bundle she had left behind her. Then she disappeared, and no one saw
or heard anything more of her.

Mrs. Steenvlak sent a couple of oppassers to inquire what had become
of her; but they returned saying that the girl had gone away, no one
could tell whither.

"She must have gone back to Santjoemeh," thought Mrs. Steenvlak. "Was
I right after all in keeping my word to Anna? Time will show. Anna
did seem greatly attached to her baboe; and no doubt, in her present
lonely state, the girl would be a pleasant and useful companion."








CHAPTER XXXI.

THE PRISON AT SANTJOEMEH--THE OPIUM-TRADE AT ATJEH.


It was a glorious afternoon in August and the green at Santjoemeh
presented a pleasant and most animated appearance. The military band
was performing a selection of music and numbers of carriages were
slowly moving about among a crowd of pedestrians. The fine turf which,
during the west monsoon, gives the square so fresh and pleasant an
aspect, was now completely dried up and burnt to a uniform dark brown
tint, while here and there the soil, which mostly consists of red
clay, was gaping open in wide fissures under the scorching influence
of the tropical sun.

But at that hour in the afternoon, the sun had already run a
considerable portion of his daily course, and was casting his slanting
rays through the tops of the tall kanarie trees which, with their dark
and glossy foliage, enclose the green as in a frame of verdure. The
north-easterly monsoon was blowing freshly along the coasts of Java;
it was rustling in the leaves, in the branches, and even far inland
it was making its cooling influence felt, pleasantly tempering the
heat of the day.

The whole of Santjoemeh was astir. Europeans, natives, Chinamen and
Arabs were walking about in motley groups. Every one seemed bent upon
enjoying the music and upon breathing his share of the deliciously
cool evening air.

The Resident van Gulpendam and his wife, as charming as ever, had
driven up the green in a handsome landau drawn by a pair of splendid
horses. They were very busy exchanging greetings and nods on all sides;
and distributing their most affable smiles among their friends and
acquaintances. Officials of all kinds and of all grades were there and
the leading men of commerce; all these, accompanied by their wives and
daughters, sauntered about laughing, talking, or enjoying the music.

We just now said all Santjoemeh was astir. But yet anyone who was well
acquainted with the European world at Santjoemeh--and really it was
not very difficult in that small inland town to become tolerably well
known to everyone of any social importance--could not help noticing
that one small group was wanting; a group which, by reason of its
youth, its wit and gaiety, always was wont to impart a certain flavour
of mirth to all these gatherings; a group which used to attract the
brightest eyes and win the most beaming smiles--this little group was,
on the present occasion, conspicuous by its absence.

"What can have become of Edward van Rheijn?"

"Where is Leendert Grashuis?"

"Where can August van Beneden have got to?"

Such were the inquiries which might be heard on every side.

"Yes, and Grenits, where is he? What has become of our merry Theodoor?"

"Theodoor? Why, don't you know--he is in the lock-up?"

"Oh, yes, of course, I had quite forgotten; he is in for ten days, eh?"

"Ah! well then, you hardly need ask where the others are to be found."

"They are keeping him company you may be sure--cela va sans dire."

"They are faithful friends these four."

"Faithful, you call them? I tell you their devotion to each other is
positively edifying. They are simply inseparable."

"Hallo!" cried another, "there goes Mokesuep!"

"I say, just look; now he is making his bow to the Resident. What a
magnificent sweep--his hat almost touches the ground!"

"And what a charming smile the fair Laurentia is giving him."

"I should rather think so. In that late business of Lim Ho--"

"Come, I say! no scandal if you please!"

"Scandal you call it; why, all Santjoemeh is talking about it!"

"Mokesuep," cried another, "won't go and pay Grenits a visit, I bet!"

"He had better not show his nose there; he would find himself in
queer street, I fancy!"

"Yes, that he would; and no more than he deserves--the scoundrel!"

"Look at him now, shaking hands with the Assistant Resident."

"He is only a new chum--as soon as he has got to know the fellow--"

"Why, then he will do just exactly as the Resident does; he will
follow his lead, you will see."

"Well, well," remarked another, "such fellows have their value."

"Come gentlemen, do keep quiet; let us listen; they are just striking
up Le lever du soleil."

"The lever of what did you say? That's a good joke--the sun is just
setting."

"Do be quiet, I want to hear the music."

It was the last piece on the programme, and at the moment when a
brilliant fugue seemed to celebrate the rising of the orb of day--the
actual sun was disappearing behind the hills to the west of Santjoemeh.

"Just twelve hours out!" cried one, "either the sun or the bandmaster
must have been having a drop too much!"

A very few minutes afterwards the green was deserted.

However, the frequenters of the Sunday afternoon concert, had been
quite right in their surmise. Van Nerekool, van Beneden and van
Rheijn--the three "vans," as the wits of Santjoemeh loved to call them,
had indeed gone to the prison to pass the afternoon and evening, with
their friend Grenits. He, poor fellow, had been condemned to ten days'
imprisonment and he had already been in durance vile for some time.

As soon as they had had their bath after the usual siesta, they had
started for the prison, and at that hour the sun was still high and
the streets were almost deserted. They were true friends and they
cheerfully gave up these hours of amusement, which were indeed the most
pleasant of the whole week, to the poor prisoner. It was a sacrifice,
however, which brought its own reward.

The apartment in which the young men were on that afternoon assembled,
did not by any means wear a dismal appearance, it suggested anything
rather than a prison cell. The room was of moderate size and perfectly
square. On either side of the door two large windows admitted light and
air, and these could be closed by means of Venetian blinds. The door
gave access to a tolerably wide verandah, the architraves of which
rested on pillars in the Doric style; and this gallery was common to
four other similar apartments which served the same purpose as that
for which Grenits was immured--namely to deprive their occupants,
for the time being, of liberty.

That verandah looked out upon a small but cheerful looking quadrangle,
very tastefully laid out in grass plots and planted with flowering
shrubs all covered with gay and many-coloured blossoms.

The little square was enclosed by the buildings which formed the jail,
one of its sides being occupied by the governor's house, a building
which had a double row of pillars and whose spacious front-gallery
was enlivened by a splendid collection of roses of all kinds, amongst
which the thick double Persian rose, the fair Devoniensis, the Souvenir
de la Malmaison and the fragrant tea-rose were conspicuous.

The room occupied by Grenits was very prettily furnished. It had
a good table, a very comfortable seat something like a garden seat,
and half-a-dozen chairs; all these of the best native workmanship. The
walls were hung with four or five fairly good pictures, and a handsome
lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The floor was almost entirely
covered with tiles and these again were hidden by matting of the finest
texture. But the most elegant piece of furniture the room contained
was undoubtedly the piano which van Beneden had sent to the prison
for his friend's amusement. The bedroom, no less tastefully furnished
than the apartment we have attempted to describe, was immediately
adjacent to the sitting-room--so that Grenits had not much reason
to complain, and his captivity was not very irksome. Said Grashuis,
as he entered and looked around:

"Why, old fellow! this looks really very comfortable. This is the
first time I have ever been inside a prison, and I had no idea the
Government took such good care of the criminals it has to keep under
lock and key."

"That's all you know about it!" laughed van Rheijn, "you ought to go
and inspect the other side."

"Where? on that side?" asked Grashuis as he pointed to the governor's
house.

"No, no," said van Beneden, "yonder in that wing, that is where you
ought to go and have a look. That would make you sing a different
tune."

"Shall we go?" cried Leendert as he rose from his seat.

"Thank you, much obliged--the smell would soon drive you away. The poor
native prisoners lie there huddled together in a space miserably too
small for them. The only furniture you would see there is a wretched
bench or two, which in filthiness so closely rivals the floor,
that the original colour of both has long since disappeared. At
nightfall some further ornaments are introduced in the shape of
sundry representatives of the tub family--and these utensils presently
contribute their fragrance to the already pestilent atmosphere. The
prisoners have but a very scanty allowance of air and light, admitted
through two small heavily barred openings. The walls are supposed
to be white-washed; but are smeared all over with blotches of blood,
produced by mosquitoes and other still fouler insects crushed against
them by the human finger, and are covered with sirih-spittle and other
nameless abominations. All things considered, I believe you will give
me credit for acting the part of a friend in strongly dissuading you
from paying a visit to that horrid den."

"Yes, August is quite right," remarked Grenits. "I ventured to go
and have a look at the place yesterday, and I have not yet got over
my feelings of disgust. But come, let us change the subject. Edward,
your boy has just now brought me a parcel."

"Yes, I sent him with it, where is it?"

"It is there, just over there on the piano."

"My friend," said van Rheijn as he deliberately opened the parcel,
"here you have a brand-new bedoedan. You see the bowl is perfectly
pure and the stem has never been used. And here is a small quantity
of the very best tjandoe--prime quality as Grenits might say."

"Oh yes," said Beneden--"that is, I suppose, for our experiment,
is it not? How much opium have you there?"

"This little box contains about twenty-five matas."

"How much may that be?"

"Let me see! That comes to about one centigramme."

"But is that enough?" asked Grashuis.

"Enough? Yes, Leendert, too much!" replied van Rheijn.

"Yet Miklucho-Maclay, in his well-known experiment consumed one
hundred and seven grains."

"Well, if you reckon it up as I have done, you will find that a
hundred and seven grains come to only eighteen matas and a fraction."

"Very good, in that case we might begin at once."

"Now please don't be in such a hurry," put in van Rheijn.

"Why should we put it off?" asked Grashuis. "We have now a few quiet
hours before us, such an opportunity may not recur."

"But, I take it," objected van Nerekool, "our object is not merely
to observe the sensations which opium smoking produces."

"Methinks," interrupted Grashuis, "that there has never been a question
of anything else."

"That may be so," replied van Nerekool; "but yet I fancy we must all
have some further object in view. Speaking for myself, I should be very
sorry indeed to have anything to do with an experiment, whereby--well,
how shall I best express myself?--whereby merely the animal side of
the question is to be considered."

"Yes, and so should I," cried van Beneden.

"And so say I," added van Rheijn.

"Yet," remarked Grenits, "even from that low point of view the problem
would be worth studying. Don't you remember what we saw in the den
at Kaligaweh?"

"Bah! bah!" cried all in disgust.

"Come, no more of that," said van Nerekool very seriously. "If your
experiment is to reproduce any scenes like those--then I will take
no part in it."

"That is exactly my opinion," said van Rheijn, "and I am anxious
therefore to give to our investigation a totally different aspect,
and to conduct it on strictly scientific principles."

"Very well," observed Grashuis; "but who is to conduct this scientific
investigation--to do that we need a man of science."

"Yes," said van Beneden, "we are no doubt most competent
representatives of the judicial, the civil, the mathematical and
the commercial branches of the community; but we do not represent
the faculty."

"Just so," replied van Rheijn; "but I have made provision for that?"

"In what way?"

"I have invited Murowski to join us."

"What? Murowski the Pole?" cried one.

"Murowski the snake-charmer?" said another.

"Murowski the butterfly hunter?" cried a third.

"Yes, gentlemen, Murowski, our learned medical officer. But, if you
please, a little more respect for that high-priest of science. Do
not, pray, forget that he is the most celebrated entomologist India
has ever possessed and that is, I think, saying a good deal in these
days when every little German prince gives his paltry decorations and
family orders for any complete--or incomplete--collection of insects,
or for a bowl of disgusting reptiles tortured to death in arrack. And,
further, please not to forget that he is a most earnest observer of
all scientific phenomena, a man whose very name will impress upon
our séance that stamp of learning which it will need if it is to
go forth to the world of science as a noteworthy experiment. Our
Pole was in ecstasies when he heard of our experiment, and when I
asked him to undertake the management of it, he promised to bring his
thermometers, his stethoscopes--You will see what a dose of learning
he will give us!"

"That's all very fine;" said Grenits, "but meanwhile he has not
turned up."

"Perhaps," suggested van Beneden, "he is hunting butterflies."

"Excuse me," replied van Rheijn, "in addition to his other merits,
the man is also a great lover of music. Nothing in the world would
induce him to miss the afternoon concert on the green, moreover he
is deeply smitten with Miss Agatha van Bemmelen, and she, no doubt,
is there in the family coach."

"Oh, ho!" said Grenits, "that is a pretty little butterfly, she has
money too."

"Oh, yes, your Poles are no fools."

"But how long will he be?"

"He has promised me," replied van Rheijn, "to join us as soon as the
music is over; and he is the man to keep to his word."

"Meanwhile we might get up a little music on our own account,"
suggested van Beneden.

"You see," said Grenits pointing to the piano, "Charles is at his
post already."

Van Nerekool, who had taken but little part in the conversation, had,
in fact, risen and gone to the piano. At first, in an absent kind of
way, he struck a few chords; but presently, under the influence of
thoughts which always reverted to Anna, he had struck up L'absence of
Tal. The room soon was filled with melancholy strains and sentimental
trills.

"No, no!" cried van Rheijn, "let us have no music, you see what effect
it has. Just look at him sitting there, why there are tears in his
eyes! A most pernicious thing, believe me, in this climate and in
this horrid dungeon."

The last chord had died away and still van Nerekool remained moodily
seated at the instrument, his head bent forward and his hands resting
heavily on the keys.

"I say, Charles!" cried Edward, "no more music now. Come and sit
here by me, and, while we are waiting for Murowski, I have a letter
to read to you which I have just now received from Verstork."

"From William!" exclaimed van Nerekool; and, rousing himself at the
name of his friend, he took the seat van Rheijn indicated to him.

"It is strange," he continued, "I have had no answer to my letter."

"No more have I," said van Beneden.

"Nor I!" cried Grenits.

"I don't much wonder at that," replied van Rheijn, "he is much too
busy yonder at Kotta Radja. You may fancy how much he has to do,
as he is the only civilian in that military world."

"Yes," said Grashuis, "a military world which has become a very small
one now that our centralising system has come into operation."

"A system, Leendert, which might more properly be styled a system
of isolation," said Grenits; "it won't be very long before our
grand army will be sitting there like Robinson Crusoe on his desert
island without any other means of communication with the surrounding
inhabitants than that of bullets."

"Come, come, Theodoor," interrupted one, "no politics."

"Especially, I suppose, no Atjeh politics," laughed Grenits. "Oh
aye, I know all about that, we Dutchmen dread that subject as a cat
dreads water; but, my friends, remember that for all that, it is a
question which involves the most vital interests of our country and
its colonies."

"Now that'll do, that'll do!" they cried.

"All right, my friends," said Grenits with a laugh, "I must not,
of course, inflict upon my kind friends who deign to come and while
away the time of a poor captive, a subject of conversation which is
distasteful to them. But, yet, I cannot make out what in the world
William can have to control at Kotta Radja. The native population
which has, nominally, remained faithful to us and shows its good
faith by treacherously attacking our soldiers--"

"Now there you go again--do shut up!"

"Well, but;" persisted Grenits, "this is no politics, I do not suppose
he has to look after the mess of the soldiers and marines!"

"Bah!" cried van Rheijn somewhat contemptuously, "what does a
merchant know about such things? It is very much as if I should give
a dissertation on the state of trade in madapollams."

"You are right, quite right," laughed Grenits, "I confess myself
wrong. Let the cobbler stick to his last. But now for William; what
does he write about?"

"Here is his letter," said van Rheijn; "but I ought first to tell
you that I sent him a short account of the changes which have taken
place in his district of Banjoe Pahit since he left it. I told him
what lamentable influence the too compliant temper of his successor
has had upon the condition of the population. To this letter of mine
I have his reply, and I need hardly tell you that his views on that
subject are not couleur de rose. But you had better hear what he says:

"'All you have told me, dear Edward, about the state of affairs at
Banjoe Pahit has made me very sad. Agriculture neglected, breach
of contract a daily occurrence, and the fatal passion for opium
increasing day by day! Alas, alas! can all this be justly put to
the account of my successor? Should you not rather cast the blame
upon me? Such terrible changes surely never take place suddenly. No,
no, if indeed matters have changed for the worse as rapidly as you
say, then I fear there must have been some antecedent cause for
this wretched state of decay. I will tell you frankly, my friend,
that my conscience bitterly upbraids me. It tells me that I have
not always done that which it was my bounden duty to do; and that
I have not set my face against the abuse of opium as sternly and as
rigidly as I should have done. It is true, of course, that the opium
den was established at Kaligaweh before I came to the place; and,
so far, my conscience is clear. But the evil had not then assumed the
proportions which makes it such a terrible curse at present. At that
time there were still a great number of inhabitants who never touched
opium. I might then, had I only been firm enough, have insisted upon
the fact, that the opium den ought not to be maintained there--that,
in fact, it had no reason to exist, inasmuch as it did not, at that
time, provide for any local need. I did so, it is true; but weak and
timid as I was, I did so in a half-hearted way. I did not forcibly
enough insist upon the terrible fact that this same opium den was
a most insidious means of seduction; and that, in the end, it must
inevitably bring the poor people to ruin and misery.

"'That is where I feel I am to blame. I may, perhaps, in self
justification, try to persuade myself that, as a civil servant, I was
bound to do all I could to augment the national income, that, by not
opposing with all my might the use of opium, I was helping, as far as
I could, to redress the balance of our national expenditure; that,
even had I tried to check the havoc wrought by this baleful drug,
I could have expected no assistance from my superior officer van
Gulpendam, nor yet have hoped for any support from the authorities at
home; that, on the contrary, they would between them have crushed me
like a bit of glass had I dared so much as to lift up my little finger
against this infamous stop-gap of our national finances. I have tried
to persuade myself that any such action on my part must have plunged
my relations, who for the present and, as far as I can see, for the
future, are entirely dependent upon me, into the direst poverty--

"'But, my dear Edward, all this sophistry profits me nothing; my
conscience refuses to be lulled by any such specious arguments. For
conscience is inexorable, and it loudly cries out that I have failed
to do my duty as public servant in not vigorously standing up for
the poor natives to whose protection I was pledged. Alas! the past
cannot be recalled!

"'If it were lawful, under any circumstances whatever, to rejoice
over the death of any fellow creature, I think I might rejoice over
the death of Singomengolo--that detestable bandoelan who has caused
so much trouble and misery. But, why do I talk of exulting over his
death? Some equally worthless fellow will no doubt be found to take his
place and to undertake the dirty work of an opium spy. The farmers are
wealthy enough to create, so to speak, such creatures every where, and
the Government! why--the Government--yes, it will, with a smile, pocket
the foully earned money amidst the applause of the Dutch nation.'"

"I say!" exclaimed Grenits, sarcastically, "don't you think it is
about time to cry 'Shut up?'"

But van Rheijn went on quietly reading, not heeding the interruption:

"'I was just now blaming myself for not having carried out my duty
more strictly. I hardly need tell you that I have made a solemn vow
to act very differently in the future, and that I have determined
henceforth to protect, to the utmost of my powers, the natives against
the horrors of opium. But, that is more easily said than done. For,
whom can I protect out here in Atjeh? The native population? Good
Lord! all I see about me in this place resembles anything in the
world rather than a native population. There is no such thing. Just
let me tell you what is going on here. General van Swieten landed in
1873, and from that moment the natives have retired as our troops have
advanced. When he returned to Europe we were holding a piece of ground
which was completely deserted by the natives, and on which not a single
Javanese was ever seen. I ought to except the narrow strip of land
between the river Atjeh and the sea, the so-called dominion of Marassa,
which, at most, supported no more than two thousand souls, and these,
let me tell you, were by no means addicted to opium. Later on, when
Colonel Pel took the command, things did not improve, on the contrary,
the state of affairs grew gradually worse and worse. The natives were
more determined than ever in their resistance to the hated invaders;
and though that officer did try to introduce something like order into
that most puzzling place Kotta Radja, which was entrusted to his care,
and it must be said, did so with conspicuous success, yet daily his
position became, if possible, one of greater isolation. Very soon no
other communication with the surrounding natives became possible than
by means of arms; and when they did meet it was not for the purpose
of amicable conferences, but only to do one another as much injury
as possible. You know all about this, for history must have told it
you. The very first thing, indeed, which arises and flourishes under
the folds of our Dutch ensign is not a house of prayer or a school,
but an opium den. That is the first token of civilisation and the
first blessing our rule brings with it. Among these conquered races
there was not, as yet, a single man who would smoke the stuff; but
yet an opium farmer had to be found. And why? Look you, Edward,
when I put that question seriously to myself, then I can find no
other answer than this one, namely: that it was necessary to make the
Dutch people believe that the time of public expenditure on Atjeh had
passed, and that now the place was beginning to pay. You may remember
what a shout of joy was uttered by the daily press in Holland when,
in the year 1875, the news arrived that the retail sale of opium in
Atjeh was producing a yearly sum of 190,000 guilders, that is 16,000
guilders a month. A few, those who were capable of reflection, shook
their heads doubtfully; but not even they were able to estimate the
extent of the evil which this apparent gain would inevitably entail.

"'It is, however, as clear as day, that no farmer could have been
found to bid for the monopoly if the opium had been sold only to the
few Marassans who remained faithful to us. Even granting that every
single man of them smoked opium--and that was very far from being true,
for the lower classes in this place are not nearly so much addicted
to the habit as they are in Java; but even granting that--the entire
number of smokers could not have exceeded three hundred. How could
sixteen thousand guilders a month have been made out of these?--Why,
it was clearly impossible, not even if every man smoked opium,
drank opium and ate opium. You must consider that the farmer has
to pay for the raw material with which the Government supplies him,
that he has to pay all current expenses, that he has to make a living
for himself, and that he must, moreover, make some profit. Thus I
confidently state that, in order to be able to give sixteen thousand
guilders for his privilege, he must retail opium for at least three
times that amount. But who then are the consumers? Who are the people
that bring this so-called profit to our national chest?

"'I will tell you, Edward, who they are:

"'In the first place, all the native soldiers quartered here. In
consequence of the state of war and of the wretched arrangements in
camp and bivouac, it is utterly impossible to keep any control over
these men, and thus there is no question of repressive--still less
of preventive--measures. The agents of the opium farmer prowl about
among the encampments and bivouacs and most generously deign to accept,
in payment of the poison they supply, the pay and, when that is gone,
even the very clothing of the soldiers.

"'Now, my friend, I ask you, do you begin to see why, during the Atjeh
war, we suffered such terrible losses through sickness, and why our
losses still remain so great? Now do you begin to see why all our
hospitals are overcrowded? Do you now see what has demoralised our
entire Indian force to such an extent, that, if we should have to
face a serious rebellion or have to resist an attack on our colonies
from any Western power--we can expect very little, or indeed nothing
at all, from it? Then just reckon up what every soldier costs by
the time he is equipped and drilled and fit to send out to join his
regiment in the field. Just calculate what expense the country is
put to for keeping all these men in hospital, and then you will be
able to judge of the wretched shortsightedness of a policy which has
created so fictitious a source of gain.

"'I have mentioned, in the first place, the native soldiers as
principal consumers of the poison; but the Chinese coolies and workmen
also, whom the Government has to hire at an immense cost, from Penang,
from Malacca, from Singapore, from Tandjong Pinang, and even from
China itself, to occupy the country which the Atjehers have deserted,
furnish another considerable contingent to the opium smokers, and
consequently to the floating population of the hospitals and to the
fixed population of the grave-yards. Who shall dare to compute with
anything approaching to accuracy, the sums of money which are thus
squandered merely to fill up the gaps which the abuse of opium is
perpetually making among this working population?

"'And, in the third place, the opium farmer finds his customers among
the servants of the numerous officers, civil servants, and contractors;
and, though this class of smokers do not entail any loss in the shape
of money, inasmuch as the State has not to replace them; yet it must
not be forgotten that as a direct consequence of the demoralisation
of this class of men, there is at present at Kotta Radja, and more
especially at Oleh-leh, a degree of insecurity of life and property,
of which in Java you can form not the slightest conception.

"'With regard to the moral condition of Oleh-leh, the harbour of Kotta
Radja, it is simply indescribable! The things which daily are taking
place in the opium dens within and around that spot where the poison
can legally be purchased, simply baffle description.

"'We saw some horrid sights at Kaligaweh, did we not? Well, my friend,
what happens here exceeds everything that the most depraved imagination
can possibly conjure up.

"'The practices are, in one word, abominable.

"'But, you may say perhaps, that if the poison were not to be obtained
in a lawful way, men would procure it by illegal means. I say no! most
emphatically I say no! Not a single ship can approach the North-West
part of Sumatra's coast without being thoroughly searched. Very little
trouble and care would be amply sufficient to prevent even as much as
a single taël of opium to find its way into that part of Atjeh which
is in our occupation. It would be the simplest thing in the world to
prevent the import of the poison altogether.

"'But no, that is not the object. The object of the Government, on
the contrary, is to stimulate the opium trade as much as possible,
and if ever the now rebellious population is brought under our yoke,
the trade will flourish more vigorously than ever. The Dutch nation
must be made to believe that Atjeh really produces a revenue, though,
from even a financial point of view, this bogus revenue must result
in the direst loss.

"'In order to attain that object we have stuck at nothing--we have
poisoned and demoralized the civil and military branches of the
State--and have degraded men to the level of the beast. And all this
merely for the prospect of the rich harvest which the opium trade
will yield to the national exchequer as soon as we shall have forced
Atjeh to share the blessings of our rule.

"'Under these circumstances, you can readily see that it is
difficult--that it is in fact impossible--for me to do what I feel
it is my duty to do. That duty is incompatible with the position of
a Government official.'"








CHAPTER XXXII.

A SCIENTIFIC OPIUM DEN


The reader was here interrupted by a loud voice crying out in the
verandah:

"Donnerwetter! what has become of Mr. Grenits?"

"That's our Pole," said van Rheijn, folding up the letter he was
reading and replacing it in his pocket. "There is nothing specially
interesting in the end of William's letter, and I do not think it
advisable to allow a private communication of this kind to spread
beyond our own little circle."

The door opened and Dr. Murowski entered. Having shaken hands with the
prisoner and greeted the other gentlemen, he said in a queer lingo
of his own, made up of Dutch, German, and Polish, but which we will
not attempt to reproduce:

"Rather behind time, I fear, gentlemen, rather behind time, but
donnerwetter--!"

"Come, come, doctor," said van Beneden with a laugh, "no strong
language if you please. I daresay you fell in with Miss van Bemmelen
on the green."

The doctor reddened up to the very roots of his hair, as he replied
in some confusion:

"Well, yes, I did meet her--"

"In that case, my dear fellow," continued van Beneden, "you need not
trouble yourself to make any apology at all, where there is a lady
in the case--"

"Stuff and nonsense!" broke in Murowski, "I wasn't in her company
for five minutes!"

"If that be the case, doctor," said van Rheijn, "we must ask you why
you have kept us so long. You knew we were all here waiting for you."

"Oh, never mind," put in Grashuis with a smile, "don't press him too
hard--our learned friend has probably been hunting some other pretty
little butterfly!"

"Yes, I can see him," continued van Beneden, "net in hand, running
after some splendid Sphynx."

"Indeed," growled Murowski, "you seem to have a pretty lively
imagination. Sphynx indeed! A funny kind of Sphynx has been after me!"

Van Rheijn laughed aloud. "Now, come," said he, "illustrious countryman
of Sobieski, of Poniatowski, and so many other worthies in ski,
let us have your news--for news you evidently have to tell us. Let
us have it. But, mind you, whatever excuse you may have to make--it
will have to be a a good one."

"As I was strolling about the green enjoying the music," began the
doctor, "my chief called me aside and said he wanted to see me at
his quarters as soon as ever the concert was over."

"Well, what of that?" cried the friends.

"A request of this kind," rejoined the Pole, "is, as you know,
gentlemen, tantamount to a positive order."

"Yes, yes," cried van Rheijn, full of curiosity, "we grant you that;
but what important communication had he to make to you?"

"No doubt some case of pneumato--" began van Beneden.

But Murowski did not give him time to complete his sentence.

"He simply wanted to tell me that I am to be transferred to another
station."

"You are going to leave us?" exclaimed the friends in a breath.

"Yes, gentlemen, so it seems--you see I have been a very long time
settled in this place," grumbled Murowski, "it must be quite five
months and a half."

"Well, and where are they going to send you to?"

"To Gombong, it appears."

"They might very easily have packed you off to a worse place," said
van Rheijn, "to Singkelen, for instance, or to Atjeh."

"Oh, I have no doubt you are quite right there," sighed Murowski, "but
where on earth is Gombong? You must excuse my ignorance, gentlemen,"
continued he, with a smile, "the study of Indian geography is, I fear,
somewhat neglected in Poland."

"Gombong," exclaimed van Rheijn, "is in Bagelen."

"Indeed," replied the Pole, "I am much obliged to you for the
information; but where may Bagelen be?"

"Bagelen," said the embryo-controller, with a certain sense of
superiority, pointing in the required direction, "Bagelen is only
just over there."

"Not over the sea then?" cried Murowski, evidently much relieved.

"No, no, my dear fellow, not a bit of it; a carriage will take you
there very comfortably. But, why don't you ask van Nerekool, he has
but just returned from the very place. He knows all about it. Why! he
lost his heart there!"

"Lost his heart? At Gombong?" asked Murowski, looking from one to
the other with a puzzled air.

"Not exactly at Gombong; but at all events very close by, at Karang
Anjer. Do you know Miss van Gulpendam?"

"Pretty Miss van Gulpendam! Of course I do," exclaimed the doctor.

"Very well then, Miss van Gulpendam has gone to Karang Anjer, and
she has taken our friend's heart along with her."

"That's smart," replied the Pole, quite mistaking the meaning of the
word he employed.

"Oh, you think so?" asked Grashuis, drily.

This conversation, as may well be supposed, was highly distasteful
to van Nerekool. He hastened to put an end to it by saying:

"Gentlemen, I vote we begin to think of our experiment."

"Ah, you are right," exclaimed the doctor, "our experientia by all
means; experientia optima rerum magistra you know. By-the-bye, did
you receive the parcel I sent you?"

"Oh, yes," answered Grenits, "you will find it safe on that little
table yonder."

Thereupon Murowski produced his instruments; a couple of thermometers,
a hygrometer, an aneroid barometer, a stethoscope, and a small
chemical balance.

While he was arranging these, van Rheijn opened the other parcel,
which contained a bedoedan and a small box of tjandoe.

"I say," cried van Beneden, who was the first to open the little box,
"precious nasty stuff this looks!"

Murowski took the box from him, examined the contents, and then
falling at once into a lecturing tone, he began:

"Opium is an amorphous, sticky substance which, being of a gummy
nature, is not fissile but plastic. It is of a dark brown colour,
possesses a faint sweetish smell, and is somewhat oily to the
touch. Its chief constituents are morphine and narcotine, in the
absence of these the drug has no value."

"But," interrupted van Beneden somewhat impatiently, "which of us is
to submit to the experiment?"

"The best plan to settle that question," said van Rheijn, "would be,
I think, to draw lots."

"Very good," put in Murowski, "providing you allow me to stand out,
as I shall have to watch the experiment."

"Now, I think," suggested Grenits, "you had better let me make
the trial."

"Why you, rather than anyone of us?"

"Why, because, being a prisoner," replied Grenits, "I have plenty of
time on my hands to get over the effects of the debauch."

"You are quite right," said van Rheijn, "I never thought of that--I
must be at my office as usual to-morrow morning."

"And I," continued van Beneden, "I have to be in court, on Setrosmito's
business, you know."

"Of course, of course!" cried all in chorus, "not one of us must,
on any account, miss that trial."

"Very good," said Grenits, "we are all agreed then that I am to be
the smoker."

"It is very kind of you, Theodoor, to make the offer."

"All right, I am quite ready to begin."

"Very likely," interrupted Murowski, "but that is more than I am."

"No, and I am not ready yet," said Edward van Rheijn.

Thereupon, assuming the most severe professional gravity, the worthy
Pole commenced carefully to weigh out the stock of opium, which he
found came to 142 grains. This fact he noted down in his pocket-book.

"You had better add," said van Rheijn, "that there are twenty-five
matas."

"Twenty-five what?" asked Murowski, again with a puzzled look.

"Twenty-five matas," repeated van Rheijn.

"Matas!" exclaimed the doctor. "What? eyes?"

The general burst of merriment which followed the question served
only to augment the doctor's surprise.

"Eyes!" laughed van Rheijn, "no, no, nothing of the kind. The
Government table of opium weights runs thus: 1 pikoe = 100 katties,
1 kattie = 16 taëls, 1 taël = 10 tji, and 1 tji = 10 matas, and
therefore--"

"All right, all right!" cried Murowski, as he joined in the laugh,
"now I see it."

"But, gentlemen," he continued, "we must look sharp, the sun has set."

It was nearly a quarter past six and, in the month of August, the
sun in Java sets some time before that hour.

Murowski requested Grenits to have the lamps lighted, and when the
servant had brought in the lights, the Pole continued:

"Now then, Grenits, get your clothes off!"

"What is that for?" asked Theodoor.

"My dear fellow," replied the doctor, "I must have you in pyjamas;
for I shall have narrowly to watch the action of the chest."

Grenits retired to his bedroom, and in a few minutes returned clad
in his ordinary night clothing. The doctor then made him lie down
on the divan, he felt his pulse, examined his tongue, sounded him
with the stethoscope, and carefully took his temperature. During
these preliminaries the countenance of Murowski wore a look of stern
solemnity which, no doubt, ought to have impressed the spectators
with the feelings of respect and awe due to a high priest of science;
but which, unfortunately, only served to excite their merriment. Even
Grenits himself could hardly repress a smile.

"What in the world is the good of all that hocus-pocus?" whispered
August van Beneden to Grashuis.

"Why are you lawyers," rejoined the other, "always fencing with
scraps of Latin? It is the correct thing, I suppose. It is a trick
of the trade."

At length Grenits said: "Well, doctor, is my carcase in pretty
good order?"

"Perfect," replied Murowski, "perfectly normal; I must have a look
at the barometer, and then our experiment may begin at once."

The barometer recorded 745 m.m., and the doctor made a note of the
reading.

"There, now," he said to Grenits, "I am quite ready--no, no, wait a
bit--there is something else. When did you last partake of food?"

"At half-past twelve," replied Grenits, "the usual dinner."

"Thank you," said the doctor, and looking at his watch he continued,
"It is now half-past six--just six hours ago. Did you partake of
anything in the way of spirits?"

"No, nothing of the kind," answered Grenits, "nothing but a little
pale ale."

The doctor then placed his thermometers in position under the
patient's arms.

While all this was doing, van Rheijn was busily employed dividing the
opium into twenty-five equal parts. Then he lit the lamps, and, warming
the bits of opium at the flame of the little lamp to make them soft,
he kneaded into each of them some very finely cut Javanese tobacco,
and then rolled them into small round pills. His friends looked on
with some surprise at the dexterity with which he performed these
manipulations; for he had not told them that, previously, he had asked
Lim Ho to show him how the thing ought to be done. This lesson the
wily Chinaman had been only too willing to give him. "Who knows,"
thought he, with a grin, "perhaps the Europeans may take a fancy
to the delicacy." When Edward had prepared his pills, he produced
the bedoedan. It consisted of a tolerably thick bamboo stem some
nine or ten inches in length, highly polished and of a beautiful
light-brown tint. This stem was open at one end and sealed at the
other. Very near to the closed end and at right angles to the stem,
a small earthenware bowl was inserted into the wood.

"It is a spick-span brand new one, I can assure you," said van Rheijn
to Theodoor, "I bought it myself for this very occasion."

"Thank heaven for that!" cried Grenits. "Just fancy if one of those
old sots had been sucking and slobbering at it! Bah! it makes me sick
to think of it."

"That shows how innocent you are," rejoined van Rheijn, "your
real lover of opium, your 'feinschmecker,' prizes an old pipe very
highly. When the stem is thoroughly saturated and the bowl thickly
encrusted with juice, the smoke must be indeed delicious."

Thus saying, Edward put one of the little pills into the bowl and
handed the pipe, thus loaded, to his friend, while he drew the little
table with the lamp within easy reach of the smoker.

Grenits lay stretched out at full length on the divan, the front of
his kabaai was wide open, so that the action of the chest was plainly
visible, and his head rested on a somewhat hard pillow.

"Now," remarked Grashuis, "there is only one thing lacking, and that
is the greasy filthy pillow we saw in the den at Kaligaweh."

"Much obliged to you, Leendert," laughed Grenits. "I would not for
the world touch the beastly thing--this pillow will do perfectly well."

Thus speaking, he turned his face to the lamp, applied his mouth to
the stem of his bedoedan, and, trying to imitate as closely as he
could the proceedings he had witnessed at Kaligaweh, he was about to
apply the bowl to the flame.

"Hold hard!" cried Murowski, "don't be in a hurry, one moment."

With these words he took Theodoor's pulse and held it for fully a
minute looking the while carefully at his watch. Then he once again
applied the stethoscope, examined the thermometers, replaced them,
and finally, in his notebook he wrote: Pulse 72, respiration 24,
temperature 99 1/2.

"That's it," said he, "now then puff away to your heart's content."

With one steady long pull Grenits sucked the flame of the lamp into
the bowl. As the opium-ball kindled, a faint sweetish odour began
to pervade the apartment, a smell somewhat suggestive of warm blood
and treacle.

"Swallow it, swallow it!" cried van Rheijn.

This, however, was more easily said than done. Grenits made an effort
to swallow the nasty smoke; but then a violent fit of coughing
compelled him to open his mouth and blow out the fumes into the
room, augmenting thereby the nauseous smell which already pervaded
the apartment.

"Poeah! poeah!" cried Grenits, puffing and coughing.

"What do you feel? What do you taste?" asked Murowski.

"I am half choked with coughing," stammered Grenits, "and I have a
nasty sweetish taste in my mouth. I cannot describe it."

This first draw had been a deep one; the madat-ball was entirely
consumed; van Rheijn slipped another opium-ball into the pipe.

"Now, this time," said he, "you must try to swallow the smoke; you
have done so often enough when you have blown the smoke of a cigar
from your nose."

Poor Grenits made another attempt. This time he did actually inhale
the fumes and succeeded in retaining them for some seconds, after
which he allowed them slowly to curl out at his nostrils.

Dr. Murowski made a note in his pocket-book, pulse 70, respiration 25,
temperature normal.

Being asked again what he felt, Grenits answered: "I feel nothing;
but the sweet taste has gone and now it tastes rather bitter."

After the third pipe, Theodoor complained that his head felt heavy
and said he wanted to go to sleep. This drowsiness seemed to increase
with the fourth and fifth pipes; but, as yet, Grenits was well able to
resist it. He returned sensible answers to the questions put to him
by his friends; but remarked that his faculties seemed to be clouded
and that he had to reflect for some considerable time before he could
grasp the meaning of a question, and that he could not readily frame
an answer. He was able, however, to sit upright, and could even walk
up and down the room without support.

Dr. Murowski watched him carefully and after the sixth pipe he found,
that the drowsy feeling was still increasing, that the pulse was at
70 while the respiration had risen to 28.

The eighth pipe produced further drowsiness, but yet Theodoor was
able to tell the time by the clock.

With the ninth pipe, his speech became thick and his utterance
indistinct; and when the doctor pressed him very hard, he said that
his tongue seemed as if it were increasing in volume.

After the tenth pipe, the patient began to complain of a bitter taste
in his mouth, and said he felt giddy. The doctor at once grasped his
hand; but pulse and respiration both remained unaltered.

After the eleventh, Grenits could no longer raise himself unaided
from the divan, and, when he tried to walk had to be supported,
so tottering and uncertain were his steps.

After the twelfth pipe, which he smoked very slowly, a remarkable
change came over the patient. Theodoor was now lying with his eyes
closed; but every now and then he opened them and there was now a
brightness in his look which offered a strange contrast to his former
dull and heavy expression. His sensations, he declared, were highly
pleasurable; but he could give no description of his feelings.

"Charles, Charles," he faintly cried, "give us a little music," and
he turned slightly to van Nerekool. The latter at once sat down at
the piano and began very softly to play Chopin's variations on airs
from Don Giovanni. The ecstatic expression on the smoker's face showed
that he took in every chord and every note.

"Go on playing," he murmured, as soon as Charles left off, "more
music--more smoke--give me the pipe."

This ecstatic state went on increasing with the thirteenth pipe and
with it also the craving for opium grew more intense.

Theodoor now began to laugh; he stretched out and waved his arms--the
most pleasant pictures were evidently floating through his brain. When
Murowski asked him what made him laugh he replied, with a fresh burst
of unnatural merriment: "I don't know, I don't know!"

Presently he requested van Nerekool to play him a certain passage from
Schumann's Manfred. In this state of ecstasy the patient remained while
he smoked his fourteenth and fifteenth pipes. The fixed smile did
not leave his features; but now he ceased to reply to the questions
of his friends. He also grew restless by degrees and no longer lay
still as before.

After the sixteenth pipe Grenits complained of having to leave
off smoking while the pipe was being refilled. He grew fretful
and found fault with van Rheijn for not having supplied another
bedoedan, for then, he said, the experiment might have gone on without
interruption. Dr. Murowski observed that the pulse was at 72 and the
respiration at 28; that the conjunctiva was much bloodshot and the
eyelids heavy and drooping.

After the seventeenth pipe the smoker suddenly started up and attempted
to walk; but, after a few steps, fell down and was unable to rise. His
friends carried him back to the divan. He begged hard to be allowed to
go on smoking and, as the doctor declared there was no danger whatever,
the request was complied with.

The eighteenth pipe brought back the state of ecstasy which, for
awhile, seemed to have left the patient. Every now and then he opened
his eyes wide and seemed to follow some flying image.

With the twentieth pipe these symptoms merely increased, and when
Murowski asked him how he felt he replied:

"Oh! I feel so happy; I never felt anything like it before."

The doctor made the following note: Sclerotica much inflamed, pulse
70, respiration 25, temperature 100·04, satyriasis setting in. Upon
being asked if he wanted anything, he replied:

"I don't want anything--nothing at all--leave me alone. The pipe! give
me the pipe! that Edward, that Edward! does he want the thing to
fail altogether?"

The next instant he exclaimed: "Oh! if this be Mohammed's paradise,
let me go on smoking for ever! The pipe! the pipe!"

"Is it not high time," asked van Nerekool anxiously, "to put a stop to
this? The poor fellow will, I fear, do himself some serious mischief."

"No, no, no," cried the Pole. "Don't be alarmed, I answer for him,
there is not the slightest danger. His pulse is perfectly regular,
the breathing has quickened somewhat; but there is only a rise of
·3 in the temperature. It would be a pity not to go on now, this
experiment is most important to science."

After the twenty-first pipe, Grenits seemed to lose all control over
himself. He lay still, almost motionless; but every word he uttered,
every look and every gesture betrayed what was passing within. This
continued until the twenty-fourth pipe had been smoked. Murowski then
again asked him how he felt, and he answered pretty quietly:

"Oh! I am at peace, at rest. Delightful! delightful!"

But this was far from satisfying our Pole. With his right forefinger
on the patient's pulse and his left hand spread out on his breast,
he kept on asking him again and again, "What kind of feeling is it?"

Theodoor, however, did not reply. By this time he was heaving and
panting with excitement. His arms and hands were stretched out
clutching convulsively at some phantom of his brain. His face wore
a look of unutterable bliss which filled the bystanders at once with
amazement and horror.

"Doctor, doctor!" muttered van Nerekool, "let us put an end to
this. Look at him, look at him. It is disgusting!"

But the Pole would not give in.

"There is no danger, none whatever!" he cried; "we must go on now,
we must go on!"

With the tough tenacity of the man of science bent upon fathoming
some natural phenomenon, he eagerly watched Theodoor's slightest
movement. He was desperately anxious to make the patient speak
out. "Grenits!" he cried, "Grenits, do you hear me; tell me, do you
hear me?"

Then he forced up the eyelids, and with his finger sharply filliped
his nose as he kept on crying, trembling with impatience: "Do you
hear me, Grenits, do you hear?"

Grenits muttered a few incoherent words as he restlessly tossed about
on the divan.

"Do you hear me?" persisted the doctor. "Tell me, can you understand?"

"Oh, yes, yes," at length muttered Grenits, "do leave me alone!"

In his eagerness the doctor bent over his patient, he did not for
an instant take his eyes from his face. Just then the friend was
transformed wholly into the man of science who, entirely mastered
by the passionate desire of unravelling some secret of nature, might
become capable of practising vivisection even upon his fellow-man.

"Oh do tell me," passionately implored the doctor, "do tell me what
you feel!"

"What I feel?" muttered Theodoor vaguely. "Oh it is delightful,
delightful--more delicious than--"

"This is too bad!" shouted van Nerekool, "abominable! I can't stand
this any longer!" and, snatching the pipe out of Grenits' hand, he
stamped on it with his foot. Then he seized the box in which there
remained but a single pill of opium and violently flung it and its
contents out of the window.

"That's right, quite right!" cried Grashuis and van Beneden in
a breath.

"It is a pity, a thousand pities," complained Murowski.

But even he had very soon to change his tone, as the condition
of Grenits now began seriously to alarm even the medical man. The
smoker's pulse had fallen to 62, and his respiration to 24, while
the temperature had risen to 101·40.

Grenits moreover was now growing very restless, and was pouring
forth a torrent of libidinous and incoherent ejaculations. His eyes
were bloodshot, his face much swollen, his skin was hot and dry,
while the hands were damp with clammy sweat. Incessantly he kept
on clamouring for opium. "The pipe, give me the pipe! van Rheijn,
the pipe!" he almost yelled, and this amidst a string of loose and
frantic exclamations.

Murowski, now beginning to fear that the experiment might have been
carried too far, endeavoured to make him drink some of the strong
coffee which had been kept ready for the purpose, by pouring it down
his throat with a spoon. He bathed his head with iced water, and
every now and then, made him sniff strong smelling salts. Thus, with
considerable difficulty, the doctor at length succeeded in somewhat
quieting his patient. The coffee, especially, seemed to have a soothing
effect. At first Grenits violently resisted all attempts to make him
swallow it; but presently, of his own accord he began to ask for it,
and the beverage had the most sobering effect. Gradually the excitement
began to abate, the patient's voice became more natural and subdued,
and his utterances less wild. At length Grenits fell into a deep sleep.

Murowski took out his pocket-book and wrote: Pulse 70, respiration 24,
temperature 100.

"Normal," said he with a sigh of relief, "quite normal! However, I
shall not leave him to-night." The gaoler was very easily persuaded to
allow the doctor to remain with his patient for that night, and Grenits
slept for thirty-three hours. When he at length awoke he found that,
with the exception of a feeling of exhaustion and a pretty severe
headache, he was none the worse of his opium-debauch. Even these
unpleasant sensations, however, left him as soon as he had taken a
bath, and then he became ravenously hungry so that his attendant had
some difficulty in serving him quickly and plentifully enough.

Three days after these events Murowski was on his way to his new
station. It was his intention to expand his notes into a full account
of what he had witnessed, and to send his paper on the effects of
opium smoking to one of the scientific publications in Germany.

The experiment in the prison at Santjoemeh had one good effect, at
least, upon those who were assembled to witness it: it served namely,
to confirm the opinions they already held with regard to the use of
opium. It would not be true to say that van Rheijn had ever stood up
as a defender of the use of the drug; yet he had always striven to
find some argument in palliation of the Government system; but now
even he was completely converted.

With poor Theodoor Grenits the events of that evening were, for a
long time, a very sore point; and he never could bear the slightest
allusion made to his antics while under the spell of the poppy-juice.

"May I be hanged!" he cried, "if ever again I touch a bedoedan,
however seductive and pleasant may be the images it calls up." And
then, turning to his friends, he said, "Gentlemen, I beg you will do
me the great favour of never, in the slightest manner, alluding to
the past; and," continued he enthusiastically, "let us now join hands
and solemnly declare war--war to the knife against the opium trade."








CHAPTER XXXIII.

IN THE PANDOPPO OF THE REGENT.


The day which followed the opium experiment described in the last
chapter, promised to be an interesting one to the inhabitants of
Santjoemeh. On that day, Setrosmito, the father of baboe Dalima,
who had for months been lying in gaol on a charge of having murdered
a Chinese bandoelan in the execution of his duty, and who had been
accused also of opium-smuggling, was to be brought to trial.

The evidence had already been taken, and the witnesses on both sides
had been examined. The prisoner confessed that he had, with his kris,
taken the Chinaman's life; but he stoutly denied that he had been
guilty of smuggling. All Santjoemeh had turned out, that is to say,
the whole European population; for it was known that August van
Beneden would conduct the defence. As our readers know, the young
lawyer had already appeared as counsel for baboe Dalima; but at her
trial he had merely watched the proceedings in behalf of his client,
and had no opportunity of showing his powers as an advocate. Thus the
speech he was expected to deliver in defence of Setrosmito, might be
looked upon as virtually his maiden-speech.

In social circles, however, and on several minor occasions, August van
Beneden had given evidence of much ability and considerable readiness
of speech, and thus the good people of Santjoemeh were looking forward
to the coming trial as to a rare intellectual treat.

But that was by no means all. It was further rumoured that the
unfortunate bandoelan had lost his life in consequence of his
misconduct towards the little daughter of the prisoner. Now, the
public at Santjoemeh knew pretty well what excesses the bandoelans
used frequently to permit themselves to take in these domiciliary
visits for opium; and thus expected that some spicy details would
be forthcoming at the trial. It was, moreover, confidently expected
that in his devotion to Themis, the young lawyer would lay his finger
heavily upon the crying abuses of the infamous opium traffic, that
plague-spot of Javanese society and that disgrace to the European
conquerors of the island.

No wonder, therefore, that long before the time appointed for the
trial, the pandoppo of the Regent's house in which the court was
to sit, was crowded to its utmost capacity. Even ladies appeared
in the audience, and foremost among these was fair Laurentia van
Gulpendam. As a rule, no ladies ever appear at these native trials;
but, on this occasion, the full-flavoured particulars which were sure
to be revealed, might perhaps account for their presence.

At all events, the numerous staff of servants looked on in amazement at
this unusual concourse; for generally the public is, on such occasions,
conspicuous only by its absence. These attendants found it as much as
they could do to provide seats for all the company, and though there
always is an abundant supply of chairs in every Regent's house, yet on
this occasion, a sufficient number of seats could hardly be mustered.

Had it been evening, and had the numerous lamps which swung from the
roof of the pandoppo been alight, one might have imagined oneself
at some festive gathering, or rather, one might have thought, that
an exhibition of juggling or other such-like entertainment was about
to take place; for, at one extremity of the spacious hall, there was
a raised platform three steps above the level of the floor. On this
stage was seen a long table covered with a green baize cloth on which
were displayed a thick book and a number of 'pièces de conviction;'
and at which several chairs were placed in order. A police oppasser,
who, judging from his demeanour, was fully aware of the importance
of his office, was mounting guard at the table, evidently posted
there to keep the profane vulgar at a respectful distance. Had any
unruly spirit attempted to approach, he would no doubt, with a noble
flourish, have dragged the rusty bit of iron which he wore by his
side from its scabbard.

Pending the entrance of the judges, the crowd tried to pass the time
as agreeably as it could. Greetings were exchanged, jokes circulated
freely, the people laughed and chatted, and, in fact, behaved, in that
temple of Justice, precisely as they might have done at a music-hall
during the interval.

"Good morning, Mrs. van Gulpendam, do you intend to be present at
our session?"

The speaker was Mr. Thomasz, deputy clerk of the court. He had
strolled in en amateur to have a look at the proceedings; for the
chief clerk himself was on that day to officiate, and Thomasz meant
to make the best of the opportunity thus offered him of paying his
court to fair Laurentia.

"Good morning," replied the Resident's wife as she held out her
hand. "Yes, I have come to have a look. I never have been present
at one of these trials, and am rather curious to see what they are
like. This case will be an interesting one, I think?"

"I think it will, madam," replied Thomasz; "but for my part, I consider
the examination of the witnesses much more entertaining."

"I daresay," said Laurentia; "but--that horrid murderer--they are
sure to find him guilty, are they not?"

"I am not so sure of that, madam."

"You are not? Why not?"

"No, indeed, I am not. The head djaksa has indeed got up a splendid
case for the prosecution, there is not a loop-hole in it; but ever
since our Residents and Assistant-Residents have ceased to preside,
and the duty has devolved upon professional lawyers, we seem to be be
under the influence of a kind of morbid philanthropy--and, it would
not at all surprise me if the scoundrel got clean off, especially--"

"Ah yes," exclaimed Laurentia, "I know what you would say: especially
since a European has undertaken the defence of that Javanese
scoundrel. It is perfectly unheard-of--monstrous! But, tell me,
who pays that counsel, do you know, Mr. Thomasz?"

"Hush! madam, that's a secret."

"A secret!" cried Laurentia, "you must keep no secrets from the wife
of your Resident. You seem to know all about it. Come tell me what
you know."

"Let us go on the platform then," said Thomasz with a faint smile,
"no one will be able to overhear us up there."

They walked up the steps, went to the table, and made a pretence
of examining the objects displayed upon it. The policeman on guard,
of course, took good care not to interfere with the njonja Resident
and the assistant registrar of the court.

"Now then," said Laurentia in an undertone, "you may speak out. Who
pays that lawyer?"

"A company, madam," was the reply.

"A company! What? of Chinamen?" cried Laurentia impatiently.

"I did not say so, madam," replied the deputy clerk with a smile and
a slight bow.

"What company then?"

"Of Europeans, madam."

"Oh ho! you know them. You need not deny it; I see it in your face."

"Hush, madam," whispered Thomasz, "there are a couple of ladies coming
near," and then aloud he added: "Yes this is the very kris with which
the deed was done--you see the wavy blade is stained with blood--that
black spot--"

Mrs. van Gulpendam seized the weapon.

"Give me their names," she whispered as she stooped forward over the
table to take it up.

"I know but one of them--van Nerekool."

"Van Nerekool--still that van Nerekool," hissed the fair woman between
her clenched teeth. And then, turning to the pandoppo, she said to
one of the ladies who had by this time mounted the platform:

"Look here, Henriette, just look here--this is the kris with which
the murder was committed." The policeman in charge of the table
seemed inclined to step forward to forbid the others to approach;
but a haughty look from Laurentia restrained him.

"Is that really the kris?" asked Henriette.

"Yes," exclaimed Laurentia, "look, you! that's how it was done--slash
across the throat!" She accompanied these words with a sweep of the
formidable weapon which made both the ladies start back in terror.

"A magnificent woman that Laurentia!" said a young man in the body
of the hall. "Just look at her attitude, look at her features, look
at that hand as she grasps the dagger! What a lady Macbeth! what a
perfect instep!"

"Aye, aye," quoth another, "she is posing, she knows--she feels--that
we are admiring her."

"What are you frightened at?" continued Mrs. van Gulpendam, "see here,
that spot is the blood of the victim, is it not, Mr. Thomasz?"

"Disgusting!" cried both ladies in a breath.

"How can you touch it, my dear madam?"

"Touch it? why not?" scornfully replied Laurentia as she flung
back the kris rattling upon the table. "Why not touch it? the thing
doesn't bite."

"Of course not, my dear," said Henriette; "but the mere thought that
it has murdered a man!"

"Pooh! a Chinaman!" cried Laurentia.

"But a Chinaman is a human being," objected her friend.

"I suppose so," was Laurentia's disdainful reply.

"It is well that Lim Yang Bing or Lim Ho are not by to hear you,"
said Thomasz forcing a laugh.

"Oh that is a different matter altogether," said the arrogant woman.

"They are opium-farmers," cried Henriette.

"They are millionaires!" added her friend.

The two ladies uttered these exclamations almost simultaneously, with
an indescribable tone of sarcasm peculiar to their sex. Laurentia
fully understood the taunt and felt it too; but she gave no sign
of displeasure.

"Ah yes," continued Henriette following up her pleasant little
home-thrust. "Now you mention their names, what has become of the
two Chinamen. I don't see them. Yonder is the Chinese captain and Kam
Tjeng Bie the wealthy merchant; but I can't see the two opium-farmers."

"They will take good care," added the other lady, "not to show their
noses here."

"I daresay," carelessly remarked Laurentia, "that they find plenty
to do getting ready for the wedding."

"Is not the murderer," asked Henriette, "the father of baboe Dalima
who accused Lim Ho of--?"

"My dear Henriette," hastily interposed Mrs. van Gulpendam, "that
is the merest tattle--in our gossiping Santjoemeh you ought not to
believe one tenth part of what you hear."

"But," continued she rather hurriedly as if anxious to change the
subject, "but, Mr. Thomasz, what kind of gollokh is that yonder on the
table--that looks as if it were blood-stained too--did the murderer
use that thing also?"

"Oh no, madam," replied the assistant-clerk, "that is nothing but
chicken's blood."

"Chicken's blood?" inquired Henriette with a laugh.

"Yes, dear madam, we call that the gollokh soempah."

"Indeed, and what may that mean?"

"We might translate it by the 'oath-knife,'" replied Thomasz; "it is,
in fact, with that instrument that the Chinese take an oath."

"That's interesting! did you ever see it done, Mr. Thomasz?"

"Oh yes, madam, very frequently."

"Do tell us all about it," cried Henriette, "how is it done?"

"It is as simple a ceremony as possible, ladies. The witness who
is about to be sworn, accompanied by a Chinese interpreter, and one
of the members of the court, walks up to a block of wood. Then the
gollokh is placed into his hand and with it he chops off the head
of a black chicken. Nothing more, and nothing less. It is an utterly
meaningless performance, and, at first sight, it is simply ludicrous."

"But why must the chicken be black, Mr. Thomasz?" asked Henriette.

"That is more than I can tell you, madam," replied he. "You are aware,
I suppose, that white is the mourning colour in China."

"Oh, yes, I know that; but--a black chicken? There must be some hidden
meaning in that," mused Henriette.

"There may be, madam," replied Thomasz; "but I have never been able
to discover any, though I have frequently asked interpreters and
even Chinese chiefs about it. There exists, however," he continued,
"in China another manner of taking an oath, the significance of which
is, perhaps, more obvious. But it is used only on special and very
important occasions."

"Can there be any question of greater moment," asked Henriette,
somewhat sharply, "than that of speaking the truth before a judge?"

"Certainly there may be, madam," was the reply.

"More important do you mean to tell me, than of giving solemn testimony
upon which may depend perhaps the life or death of a human being?"

"Undoubtedly, madam," said Thomasz.

"Well!" cried Henriette, "I should like to know what questions those
may be!"

"To give you only one instance," replied Thomasz, "the great oath,
the solemn oath which the Government requires to be taken when a man
is made a Chinese officer."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Henriette with a laugh, "do you call that so very
serious a matter?"

"And then," continued the assistant clerk, "on certain occasions,
though rarely, the great oath is administered in civil cases, where
the interests involved are very considerable."

"Ah, now I understand you! When it is a question of £ s. d.," laughed
Henriette; "but, pray, tell us something about that great oath."

"With pleasure, madam, only I am afraid I do not know very much
about it. The rites observed on such occasions are borrowed from the
ceremony with which the oath is administered in China to princes and
high state officials on their appointment. I will, in as few words as
possible, try to describe to you what takes place. The witness first
writes down the evidence he intends to give or the promise he intends
to make, on a strip of red paper, and then he confirms the truth
of his words by calling down upon himself the most fearful curses
should his evidence prove untrue, or should he fail to carry out
his engagement. This strip of red paper the witness next carries to
the temple, and solemnly spreads it out upon the table of offerings,
between a number of burning candles, some bottles of wine and some
confectionery, which are destined to be gifts or offerings to the
idol. While this is going on the priests are screeching forth a
form of prayer, at certain passages of which a bell is violently
rung. Thereupon the witness, in a loud voice, reads out what he has
written on the paper, the priests the while burning incense. Finally,
the red paper is held to the flame of one of the candles, and,
having been thrown down on the table, is allowed to burn until it
is reduced to ashes. This concludes the ceremony. I know, ladies,
my description is most imperfect; but I hope that I have succeeded
in giving you some notion of this very curious solemnity."

"Much obliged to you, Mr. Thomasz," said Laurentia, holding out
her hand to him as, with haughty glance, she surveyed the company
assembled in the pandoppo.

"I wonder whom she is looking for?" whispered one of the young men
in the body of the hall.

"Not for me I fear," sighed another, "perhaps--"

"The gentlemen of the court!" bawled a police oppasser, much in the
tone of a French huissier when he shouts, "La cour, messieurs!"

The name of the individual who was supposed to be the object of
Laurentia's solicitude remained unspoken.

Just then, out of one of the side buildings which could be seen
from the pandoppo through the intervals between the blinds, there
appeared two European gentlemen, two Javanese chiefs and two Chinese
officers. These formed a kind of procession and slowly marched towards
the pandoppo. Having entered the hall they ascended the platform,
and took their seats at the table, on the chairs placed ready for them.

At the head of the procession walked Mr. Greveland, the successor
of Mr. Zuidhoorn and president of the court. After him, came Radhen
Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo, regent of Santjoemeh; Radhen
Pandjie Merto Winoto the patih, and babah Tang Ing Gwam the Chinese
major--these three were members of the native Council. Then followed
Mas Wirio Kesoemo the head djaksa, and behind him came the clerk of
the court, while Hadjie Moehammad Kassan, the panghoeloe or native
priest, closed the procession.

The president was in his judicial robes of office, while the clerk
of the court appeared in black frock-coat and white trousers. The
Javanese members wore, of course, the national costume, which consisted
of a short jacket with stiff gold-embroidered collar over a similarly
embroidered vest, with the finely stitched sarong wrapped in neat and
narrow plaits round the waist. On their heads they wore the ordinary
scarf; but in addition to this they also wore the kopja, an ugly and
shapeless head-gear, looking like a bit of stove-pipe ornamented with
narrow gold lace.

The Chinese major was in full Mandarin's dress, the most conspicuous
part of his attire being a kind of tabard of light blue cloth,
on which, in front and behind, were richly embroidered in gold a
pair of monstrous dragons. His head was covered with a stiff cap of
light blue cloth. This cap had a somewhat high crown, on the top of
which, surmounting a little tuft or tassel, shone a large blue gem
of extraordinary lustre.

The panghoeloe was clad in a sombre-looking cassock reaching down to
his heels. He was remarkable chiefly by a turban of prodigious size,
which, by its magnitude and colour, proclaimed that the man had visited
the tomb of the prophet and was therefore a Hadjie or pilgrim. In
his hand he held a book which looked much worn and soiled. This was
the sacred book--the Koran.

On the steps leading to the platform were seated several Javanese
youths dressed in the national costume but without the kopja. These
were the mantries, generally young men of good family, and even of
noble birth, who were present to listen to the proceedings, and thus
to qualify themselves for future appointments. They sat on the steps
with their legs crossed before them, and each had on his knees a
writing tablet, on which he was prepared to jot down whatever remarks
he might consider valuable enough to be thus rescued from oblivion.

Mr. Greveland took the chair at the middle of the oblong table. On
his right hand sat the regent and on his left the clerk of the
court. Next to the regent sat the djaksa and on his right again sat
the panghoeloe. The clerk of the court had on his left the patih,
and after him came the Chinese major. All these places were allotted
to their several occupants, in accordance with the rules of the
strictest etiquette, to which Eastern nations always attach the
utmost importance.

Just after the president had taken his seat, August van Beneden
made his appearance in his barrister's gown; and, by the chairman's
direction, sat down at the end of the table by the side of the
Chinese major. At that moment the pandoppo of the regent's house
offered an interesting and most curious spectacle. It was a wide
roomy shed the lofty roof of which was supported by eight pillars,
and completely open on all sides. In order to temper the glare of the
sunlight, and also to exclude the prying looks of the public outside,
the spaces between the pillars were hung with green kreés or mats,
while the members of the court had the further protection of a canvas
screen stretched behind them. Behind the judges some Javanese servants
were squatting. These men bore the pajoengs of the Javanese chiefs,
and though these umbrellas were closed, yet their bearers held them
aloft in such a manner that they could plainly be seen behind the backs
of their masters. As the native court was then sitting; and taken as
typical of the entire judicial system as regards the native inhabitants
of the island of Java, it presented a strange combination of those
three leading principles which the Dutch Government has, sometimes
in greater sometimes in lesser degree, but always very cleverly,
managed to unite. First there was the European law represented by
the person of the President; in the next place the native usage was
respected which demands that both the judges shall be Javanese chiefs
or nobles of the highest rank; and in the third place there was the
Mohammedan law represented by the panghoeloe whose office it was to
enforce due respect for the injunctions of the Koran.

Between the platform and the first row of chairs there was a
considerable open space which, however, was not protected by any
kind of railing. To the right and left of the platform stood a pair
of native police oppassers in their bright yellow uniform and with
side-arms dangling from bright yellow belts. The poor fellows cut a
sorry figure as they stood there, they were quite taken aback at the
sight of so large a crowd.

Fair Laurentia had taken her seat on the middle chair of the first
row. As njonja Resident this place of honour belonged to her, and
by her side she had placed two of her most intimate friends. Close
around these clustered the most fashionable and important inhabitants
of Santjoemeh, or such as considered themselves the most important;
and behind these again came the miscellaneous crowd which filled the
pandoppo from end to end. The conversation, however, now that the
judges had entered, was carried on in whispers or in a low undertone.

Edward van Rheijn, Charles van Nerekool and Leendert Grashuis,
we hardly need say, were present in the third or fourth row of
chairs among a number of their young friends and acquaintances--the
jeunesse dorée of Santjoemeh. Thus they had an excellent view of
the proceedings.

"Look at that Thomasz," said van Rheijn, "what an ass the fellow is
making of himself with Laurentia!"

"Yes, yes," quoth Grashuis, "he is making hay while the sun shines."

"I don't know so much about that," remarked one of the young men
present, "it seems to me that just now he is pretty well at home at
the Residence."

"There are very queer rumours afloat about him," whispered another.

"Rumours!" said van Rheijn testily, "why, in Santjoemeh, the air
is always full of rumours. What would Santjoemeh be without its
chronique scandaleuse?"

"If people will behave themselves in that way!"

"Yes, and if appearances are all against them!"

"Indeed," said van Rheijn tartly, "am I to suppose that, where a
woman's good name is concerned, you would go by appearances?"

"They say that M`Bok Kârijâh has been employed."

"Oh! if that filthy hag has a finger in the pie, then--"

"They say!" exclaimed van Rheijn contemptuously, "they say!--and pray
who are they?"

"Well--everybody--"

"At all events I am not one of them," replied van Rheijn.

"No more am I," added Grashuis.

"Hush," whispered van Rheijn, "I am sure Laurentia can hear all we say;
just look how she pricks her ears."

"How very dignified van Beneden looks in his gown," said Grashuis
anxious to change the subject and slightly raising his voice.

"I don't see it," returned van Rheijn; "he looks for all the world
like an umbrella in its case."

At that moment fair Laurentia turned and cast her eye over the group
of young gentlemen seated behind her. They all greeted and bowed. Van
Rheijn, however, had a gracious smile all to himself--it might have
been perhaps in acknowledgment of his comparison of van Beneden with
the umbrella.

"Oh, you sly fox," whispered one with a nudge, "that is why you took
me up so sharply just now? eh?"

"Do shut up!" said van Rheijn, "I wonder you are not ashamed of
yourself for talking such nonsense!"

"Have you received an invitation yet?" asked Grashuis, wishing to
turn the conversation into another channel.

"What invitation?"

"To Lim Ho's wedding party."

"Yes, I got one the other day," said one.

"And so have I," said another.

"That is a curious custom," remarked van Nerekool, "for the bridegroom
to give the wedding party."

"Yes," added another, "it is so totally different from what one sees
among Western people."

"Different!" exclaimed van Rheijn, "of course it is--it is quite
consistent with everything else in China. With them everything
is upside down. Their mourning colour is white and blue is
half-mourning. Their ladies wear trousers and the men carry fans. Such
things as knives, spoons and forks they leave to us barbarians, while
they manage very cleverly to whisk down their food with a pair of
chop-sticks. They hold that descendants can ennoble their ancestors
so that one may become a count or a baron after one's death. They
pay their doctors so long as they keep well; but the moment they fall
sick they stop payment. What can you expect from such people--? surely
you may let them hold their wedding feast at the bridegroom's house
instead of the bride's!"

A general laugh greeted this whimsical sally which had by no means been
uttered in an undertone. Mrs. van Gulpendam joined in the merriment
and rewarded the speaker with another friendly nod.

"You see! you lucky dog! you are decidedly in her good books."

"Hush, gentlemen! here comes the murderer."

"What? unfettered?"

"Yes, the law demands that an accused man shall appear free and
unfettered before his judges."

"But it does not forbid a couple of constables to stick close to
his elbow."

"Hush!"

Mr. Greveland had repeatedly struck the table with his wooden hammer.

"Usher," he said at length with much dignity, "you must see that
silence is kept in court."

The man thus addressed was a sjenjo or half-caste--he rushed up and
down the pandoppo in frantic endeavours to enforce the order he had
received, "Hush, hush, silence! Silence, ladies and gentlemen!" he
bawled at the top of his voice, thus making more noise than all the
company put together.

Again the hammer came down, and the president himself called:
"Silence."

"Silence!" shouted the usher imploringly, as he stretched out his arms
and looked as if he were going to swim, or was trying to lay a tempest.

At length he succeeded in controlling those unruly tongues. One of
the very last to give way was Laurentia--"who had a right to interfere
with her--the Resident's wife? Those gentlemen on the bench are always
giving themselves such airs!"

Presently, however, even her chatter ceased. Once again the president
brought down his hammer.

"The session is opened," said he; "constables bring the prisoner
forward!"

One of the oppassers hereupon drew Setrosmito to the foot of the
steps and made him squat down in front of the table. The poor fellow
looked a wretched object indeed. The months he had passed in prison
had effectually done their work upon him. He was frightfully lean, and
the warm brown colour of his skin had turned a dusky grey. His long
lank hair, which here and there straggled from under his head-dress,
had turned grey--nay white. As he advanced he looked timidly around
him, he cast one imploring glance at van Beneden, who gave him a
friendly nod and a smile of encouragement, and then, submissively,
he squatted down in the spot to which the policeman pointed.

When first Setrosmito came forward some one uttered a loud
heart-rending shriek of Ah God!--this cry was followed by the usher's
cry for silence.

At the back of the pandoppo several Javanese women were huddled
together. They were the friends of Setrosmito's wife, who had
accompanied her into the court. She it was who had uttered the wail
which made all the spectators turn their heads. She had not been able
to restrain her feelings at the sight of the wretched object in which
she could hardly recognise her husband. Van Nerekool at once hurried
up to the poor creature, he got one of the regent's servants to give
her a kind of stool, and then he tried to quiet her.

"You must keep quiet, M`Bok Dalima," said he, "or else you won't be
allowed to remain here."

The poor sobbing woman buried her face in both her hands.

On all sides were heard murmurs of "The murderer's wife! Poor woman!"

"Silence!" roared the usher.








CHAPTER XXXIV.

SETROSMITO'S TRIAL.


As soon as the commotion produced by that lamentable cry had subsided,
Mr. Greveland began to question the prisoner.

"What is your name?" he asked.

The djaksa interpreted the question to the accused man in Javanese.

The prisoner with his head bent forward and his eyes steadfastly
fixed on the floor replied:

"Setrosmito, kandjeng toean."

"Where were you born?"

"At Kaligaweh, kandjeng toean."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know, kandjeng toean."

The djaksa turned to the clerk of the court and said, "Put him down
about forty years of age."

There was, in reality, but little need for all this interrogatory;
for the particulars had been already noted down during the course of
the preliminary examinations. The questions were, in fact, put merely
pro forma.

"Where do you live?" continued the president.

"In the prison, kandjeng toean," innocently answered the prisoner.

"Aye! but I mean before you went to prison?"

"In the dessa Kaligaweh, kandjeng toean."

"Setrosmito," continued the president, "do you know why you have been
brought here before us?"

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

"Let us hear it then."

"They tell me I have smuggled opium, and that I have killed a
Chinaman," quietly replied the Javanese, without so much as raising
his eyes from the floor.

A murmur of indignation ran through the pandoppo at the apparent
callousness of the reply.

"Silence!" cried the president.

"Silence in the court!" vociferated the usher.

"Do you plead guilty to these charges?" asked Mr. Greveland.

The djaksa interpreted the question; but the prisoner hesitated--he
seemed not to know what he ought to say. He cast a furtive sidelong
glance at August van Beneden, who reassured him by saying:

"Speak up, Setrosmito, speak up, tell the simple truth."

"No, kandjeng toean," said he, "I am not guilty of smuggling. I never
touch the bedoedan. I have killed a Chinaman because he ill-treated
my child."

The Javanese spoke in a very low tone of voice--he was abashed before
that large audience and before his chiefs. He spoke moreover in
the Javanese tongue, which hardly any one present could understand,
so that his answer produced no impression whatever.

"Now, listen attentively, Setrosmito," said the president. "The charges
against you, your own statements, and the evidence of the witnesses,
will be read out to you."

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

Thereupon the clerk of the court rose, and in the sing-song monotonous
tone of voice peculiar to his class, began to read all the depositions
and the whole body of evidence which the preliminary examinations had
produced. He read very fast, very indistinctly, and in so low a tone
of voice that not a soul in the pandoppo, not even the president
himself, who was seated close beside him, could understand what
he said. The prisoner, of course, could not catch a single word;
for the papers were all drawn up in Malay, a language of which the
simple dessa-labourer knows little or nothing. From time to time
this dreamy flow of words was interrupted by the djaksa, whose duty
it was to translate to the prisoner the more important parts of the
case. But even the interpretation was got through at such a pace that
it was very doubtful whether the prisoner was any the wiser for the
djaksa's translation.

He sat squatting on the floor without changing his attitude, and
kept his eyes rivetted on one spot; his hands, fumbling the while
at the skirts of his jacket, betrayed his extreme agitation. At
every explanation of the djaksa, whether he understood it or not,
he mumbled the invariable Javanese answer:

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

This reading of the evidence was a most dreary and tedious
business. Even the members of the council at the table kept up
a whispered conversation, which the president had repeatedly to
interrupt with an impatient gesture and a stern look of displeasure.

The audience, however, did not confine themselves to mere whispers. No
one spoke out aloud; but gradually there arose a humming and
buzzing--an indescribable rumour, broken now and again by some lady's
giggle--which sadly interfered with the majesty of the law.

In vain did the usher exert the full power of his lungs. His shout of
"silence" produced its effect for the moment; but it was only for
the moment. The instant after the universal buzzing began again as
if a huge swarm of bees had taken possession of the pandoppo.

"What an insufferable bore that clerk is to be sure!" simpered
Mrs. van Gulpendam.

"He leaves the reading to his nose," remarked Mr. Thomasz.

"Mind your chief does not hear you," said one of the ladies.

"Pray don't tell him!" cried Thomasz, "he does not know he talks
through his gable--if he did, he might try and improve."

"Be quiet, Mr. Thomasz," said Laurentia, with a burst of laughter,
"you really must not make us laugh so."

"What? I, madam?" asked the clerk.

"You? Of course. The Resident calls you a dry comical fellow."

"How, madam, do you mean to say the Resident applies such terms to me?"

"Yes, he does--don't you like them?"

"Madam," replied the assistant-clerk, "professionally I cannot say
that I do. Just fancy, ladies," he continued, turning to the others,
"a comical clerk, who ever heard of such a thing?"

He uttered these words with a serio-comic air, so irresistibly droll,
that the ladies fairly shook with suppressed laughter.

"Oh--do hold your tongue, Mr. Thomasz!" Laurentia at length managed
to say, "you see how savagely Mr. Greveland is glaring at you."

"What a time that mumbler takes to be sure!" said a voice almost
aloud in the centre of the pandoppo.

"If one might only light a cigar to while away the time," said another.

"Or get a glass of bitters!"

"I was asking an oppasser just now to fetch me a glass of beer--my
throat is as dry as a lime-kiln," said another voice in an audible
whisper.

"Well--and did you get it?"

"Don't I wish I may get it? 'Not allowed, sir,' was all I could
get out of that canary-bird, who looked as black as a three days'
west monsoon."

"Shall we go to the club, it is close by?" asked another.

"Yes, if I thought that muttering would last much longer."

"Silence! silence!" shouted the usher, "respect for the court!"

That respect for the court was all very well; but the good people of
Santjoemeh had gathered together for the sake of amusement, and they
were being bored almost to death.

At length the clerk had got to the end of his dreary tale--at
length the djaksa had, for the last time, said to the prisoner:
"Do you understand, Setrosmito?" And at length, for the last time,
the latter had replied in his monotonous drone the same words:

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

Then came the usual shuffling of feet and a general murmur of
satisfaction which, however, the usher soon managed to subdue.

As soon as silence had been restored, the head djaksa rose from his
chair and, in his capacity of public prosecutor, he began to open
the case for the Government.

His speech was remarkably well put together, and worked out with much
skill and care; but it could have an interest only for those who knew
nothing of the other side of the case.

It was, in fact, little more than a statement of what had occurred,
strictly on the lines of the report of the bandoelan Singomengolo.

The public prosecutor took the case of opium smuggling as conclusively
proved. He dwelt at great length upon the cunning displayed in
hiding the forbidden wares under the pandan-mat of the couch--the
opium itself and the box which had contained it lay before him on
the table as convincing proofs of the truth of what he advanced.

Then, in very forcible words, he went on to dilate upon the craftiness
of these opium smugglers; and tried to show how, in their endeavours
to cheat the revenue, they gave evidence of much cleverness; but
generally over-reached themselves and proved, by the tricks they
employed, their utter want of honesty and moral sense.

Mas Wirio Kesoemo waxed well-nigh eloquent when he pointed out how
the passion for opium was, hand over hand, gaining ground in Java;
and how this debasing passion was promoted and fostered chiefly by
the abominable smuggling trade. He dwelt, in glowing terms, upon the
absolute necessity of repressing, by every means the law would allow,
that dirty underhand traffic which was the fruitful source of so
much misery.

"Picture to yourselves," he cried, "the amount of injury which this
nefarious trade is inflicting upon the realm beyond the ocean, upon
all India, and especially upon our own beloved island of Java. Think
of the millions which are lost--the millions!--I might say the tens
of millions, and then calculate the amount of good which these tens
of millions might produce if they were allowed to flow quietly and
without check into the national treasury!"

At these words the djaksa, who up to that time had been addressing
the members of the council, turned to the public, knowing well that
this argumentum ad crumenam would tickle the public ear. And he was
not mistaken. The audience consisted for the most part of Dutchmen,
and the tinkle of these tens of millions had a metallic sound which was
strangely fascinating to the hearers. A distinct murmur of approbation
arose, many a head nodded in silent assent and many a voice muttered:

"Hear, hear! If we could but be delivered from that abominable
smuggling!"

These evident tokens of sympathy did not escape the djaksa's watchful
eye, and Mas Wirio Kesoemo did not let so favourable an opportunity
pass without expressing the fervent hope that the judges would not
fail, by their sentence in the present case, to crush the foul reptile
which battened upon the national prosperity. He called upon them,
therefore, to pass upon the prisoner, who not only sat there accused
of the heinous crime of smuggling; but was charged also with the
additional offence of murder, the heaviest sentence which the law
would allow. By doing so, he added, they would earn for themselves
the cordial thanks of the island of Java, and establish a claim upon
the gratitude of the entire Dutch nation.

For a moment it seemed as if the greater part of the company
assembled in the pandoppo, would have given vent to their feelings of
satisfaction by cheering and clapping of hands--one cry of "bravo!" was
distinctly heard; but the usher repressed all such manifestations
with his repeated shout of "Silence--silence in the court!"

The head djaksa now proceeded with the second part of his case against
Setrosmito, that, namely, of having murdered a Chinese bandoelan;
a charge which was inseparably connected with the former one of
opium smuggling.

The entire assembly hung breathless on his lips, as he described
how Setrosmito had resisted the searching of his house; how, when
the fatal box had been discovered, he had hurled an opprobrious name
at Singomengolo and called him a "dirty dog;" how he had, thereupon,
seized his kris and how, when the chief bandoelan fled back in terror,
he had flung himself upon an inoffensive and defenceless Chinaman,
and had drawn the wavy blade of his knife across his throat, while a
stream of blood deluged murderer and victim alike. This description,
graphic almost to brutality in its details, made a powerful impression
upon the audience. One of the ladies present screamed and fainted away,
and had to be carried off insensible. This episode caused considerable
commotion, and Setrosmito cast an anxious glance behind him to see
what was going on.

"Silence! silence!" bawled the usher.

As soon as order had been, in some measure, restored, Mas Wirio Kesoemo
proceeded to dwell on the increasing temerity of the opium smugglers,
who scrupled not to take a human life rather than risk the loss of
their smuggled wares. He insisted upon the necessity of inflicting the
extreme penalty for the protection of the police in the execution of
their arduous duties; and he ended his speech by demanding that the
murderer be condemned to death by hanging, or, if the defence could
establish any extenuating circumstances, that the sentence should be
at least twenty years of penal servitude with hard labour.

A deep silence reigned in the pandoppo as the djaksa resumed his seat,
one might have heard a pin drop, so intensely was that frivolous
crowd impressed by this fearful demand for a human life. A kind of
spell lay upon all, every heart seemed compressed as in a vice. A
general sigh of relief was heard when the president broke the silence:

"Setrosmito," asked Mr. Greveland, "have you heard what the public
prosecutor has said?"

The prisoner looked up with a puzzled expression at the speaker;
but he did not answer a word. The entire case had been conducted in
Malay, of which he did not understand a single word. The expression
of the poor fellow's face showed that plainly enough. The president
repeated his question, which the djaksa, thereupon, interpreted
to Setrosmito. The prisoner cast one look upon August van Beneden,
and upon a nod from the latter, answered:

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

"Have you anything to say in reply?" asked the president.

Another look at his counsel, and then the prisoner answered:

"No, kandjeng toean."

A cry of indignation and horror arose in the pandoppo at the seeming
callousness of the answer.

"Silence, gentlemen! Silence in the court!" shouted the usher.

As soon as he could make himself heard, Mr. Greveland said:

"I call upon the counsel for the defence."

"At length!" muttered Grashuis, with a deep sigh.

"Now we shall hear something very fine!" cried Mrs. van Gulpendam,
with a sneer; but in a voice quite loud enough to reach the young
lawyer's ears.

Van Beneden very calmly rose from his chair, wiped his forehead,
and then, in a clear voice which could distinctly be heard through
the entire pandoppo, he said:

"The trial which is now occupying the attention of this honourable
court is one which is indigenous to the soil of Java. I might
say, indeed, that in no other spot in the world could such a case
arise. There can be nothing simpler, nothing more plain than the
demand of the prosecution! Opium has been smuggled, some one must be
punished for it. A man has lost his life, some one must hang for the
murder. Undoubtedly the law must have its course, and the criminal
ought to be punished. We are living here in the East, in the home of
the law of retaliation--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! This,
gentlemen, is a hard law unworthy of our Western civilisation;
but against it we have the right of inquiry, and our milder code
allows every accused man the right of defence. It is of this right
of defence, that, in behalf of the unhappy man sitting there at your
feet and awaiting his fate at your hands, I now intend to avail myself.

"Now, if the facts were really such as the prosecution has represented
them to be--why then there would be nothing for me to do than to
commend the prisoner to the clemency of the court, or rather I should
say, that I would not, in that case, have undertaken at all the defence
of a cause which my conscience could not justify. I take, therefore,
a totally different view of the matter; and am prepared to lay before
you the grounds upon which I have arrived at a wholly different
conclusion. I beg that you will lend me your attentive hearing.

"But, before entering into the details of this case," continued
the young lawyer, in a voice which clearly betrayed emotion, "allow
me to pay my tribute to the zeal, the devotion, and the undoubted
ability of a man concerning whom I must not speak without reticence,
inasmuch as I am bound to him in the straitest bond of friendship.

"Mr. William Verstork was controller of the district of Banjoe Pahit
when the facts occurred which now claim our attention. Independently
altogether of the action of the Government, he undertook the task of
continuing the investigations which he had initiated. The result of his
inquiry he has submitted to the proper authorities. I ask, why were not
these papers laid before us? Allow me, gentlemen, to pass very lightly
over this most important omission. I could not enter into that subject
without stirring up a pool of iniquity which is immediately connected
with the opium question; and I freely confess that I shrink from thus
occupying your valuable time. For the defence of the unhappy man for
whose interests I am responsible, it will suffice if I now tell you
that the documents to which I allude exist beyond the possibility of
doubt or denial; and that I have here, lying on the table before me,
the authentic copies properly attested and legalised by the Governor
of Atjeh and by the Chief Justice at Batavia.

"You all," continued van Beneden with a courteous gesture, addressing
the public as well as the bench, "you all know William Verstork, and
I would not even mention the noble qualities of that zealous public
servant--there would be no need of doing so--were it not that our
president, Mr. Greveland, has but lately arrived at Santjoemeh. The
interests of my client demand that I should clearly point out to him
that the writer of these documents is universally known as an upright
man, who, in his official capacity, has won for himself the esteem
and affection of all, natives as well as Europeans, that have come
into contact with him. That he is a most dutiful son who, for the
sake of his mother and his younger sisters and brothers, has made the
greatest sacrifices; and that, before this large audience I assert,
without the slightest fear of contradiction, that a more single-minded
and honourable man has never trodden the soil of Netherland's India."

A burst of applause, cheering and clapping of hands followed
immediately upon this general appeal. Mrs. van Gulpendam sat gnawing
her lips with suppressed rage, while the noise drove the usher to
the verge of frenzy.

At length, by dint of much hammering, Mr. Greveland obtained silence,
he rose and said:

"Much as I appreciate this tribute of affection, this spontaneous
testimony to the merits of a distinguished public servant; yet I
must warn the public against such demonstrations either of approval
or disapproval. Should they be repeated it will be my duty at once
to clear the court. Mr. van Beneden, I beg you to proceed."

August had made the most of this interruption, he had wiped his
forehead and refreshed himself with a draught of iced water. He
continued:

"After the fatal evening, William Verstork repeatedly visited
Kaligaweh. He thought he thoroughly knew Setrosmito and remembered
the well known lines of Racine:


   'Un jour ne fait point d'un mortel vertueux
      Un perfide assassin, un lâche meurtrier.'


But, for all that he determined to sift the case to the very
bottom. He made minute inquiries on all sides, and, as the result
of his investigation, he found that the man who is now sitting there
before you crushed under the load of so terrible an accusation, has
ever been an irreproachable husband, a tender and devoted father,
an industrious hard-working labourer--that he is, in fact, one of
those quiet and submissive villagers of which our Javanese population
is chiefly composed, and which make it possible for an entire race,
which may well be called the quietest and meekest on earth, to submit
to the cruel fiscal yoke we have imposed upon it. I have here, lying
on this table before me, the sworn testimony of the wedono of the
district of Banjoe Pahit. He states that on a certain occasion, when
a loerah had to be appointed for the dessa Kaligaweh, the man most
eligible for the post was this same Setrosmito, especially because
he was known never to touch opium; but that he could not recommend
him for the appointment, because the man could neither read nor write.

"Now, gentlemen, I ask you, how comes it to pass that a man bearing
so excellent a character should be brought up here before you as
an opium smuggler and a murderer? An opium smuggler! At those words
your very looks betray what is passing in your minds. You know well
enough what is going on in this residence of Santjoemeh. You turn away
in disgust at the mere mention of the word 'opium smuggler!' But,
let me ask you, upon what grounds has the prosecution founded this
most serious charge? Why, upon no grounds whatever! The prosecution
has not even attempted to bring forth any proof of the prisoner's
guilt. Their case rests entirely upon the unsupported word of one
of the opium farmer's bandoelans--upon the bare assertion of a vile
wretch whom public opinion holds up to public execration as capable
of the lowest and most infamous perjury. Yes, gentlemen, I repeat it
most emphatically, this charge rests upon nothing whatever but upon
the bare word of Singomengolo, and upon that little box which lies
there in evidence before you on this table.

"But, you all must remember, it is not so very long ago, that, on this
very same table, we had before us a number of those little boxes,
all of them the property of that same bandoelan; and that, on that
occasion, you had to acquit the daughter of the prisoner who was also
charged with smuggling; who was charged with smuggling, mind, by that
same Singomengolo. And how did he attempt to prove that charge? Why,
by swearing that he had seized upon her person a box precisely similar
to that which you now see before you. Again I ask you, what proofs have
we that this box was discovered under the pandan-mat of the couch in
Setrosmito's dwelling? We have none! You hear me, I repeat that word,
we have absolutely no proof of the truth of that bare assertion. But,
on the contrary, for the defence, I have the clearest possible proofs
that it never was there at all. We rely on proofs which are absolutely
incontrovertible. And here, gentlemen, allow me once again to turn
to the sworn evidence of my friend William Verstork.

"'When one of the Chinese bandoelans, accompanied by a couple of police
oppassers, presented themselves at the door of Setrosmito's house
for the purpose of making a domiciliary visit, no opposition whatever
was offered to their searching the place. The only precaution taken
was that they were themselves submitted to a search before entering
the premises. On that occasion no opium, nor any vestige of opium
was found; not even under that very pandan-mat on the couch. The two
oppassers and the witnesses Sidin and Sariman, who were present at
the visitation, have expressly sworn to that fact. Sariman indeed has
sworn most positively that the pandan-mat was twice lifted up, and that
the Chinaman had most minutely examined the pillow which lay upon it.'

"That I think is plain enough, gentlemen, is it not?

"But now, allow me to continue with Verstork's sworn declaration.

"Very shortly after they had left, Singomengolo himself appeared to
search the house. He refused point-blank to submit to the usual body
search; whereupon Setrosmito protested and said: 'In that case, no
doubt, opium will be discovered in my house. I know all about these
dodges.' I have the proofs of all this here before me signed by the
Kabajan of the dessa.

"And, of course, opium was found, gentlemen. It was discovered in
the very spot where the Chinese bandoelan, who was no fool either,
had looked twice without making any discovery. That again is clear
enough, I think.

"Opium smuggler! The court will understand that I fling the odious
accusation far, far away from me. Not indeed because the charge has
not been legally proved; for I know that in these opium-cases very
curious evidence is often admitted; but because my client is innocent,
absolutely innocent, of any such offence; because he is the victim of
one of those detestable conspiracies which, as every one well knows,
are commonly resorted to when some obnoxious individual has to be
removed or some sordid wretch thirsts for revenge.

"Opium smuggler! Yes, the prosecution has dwelt at considerable
length and with considerable eloquence upon the millions, the tens
of millions, of which this illegal traffic is robbing the public
exchequer.

"As the Public Prosecutor made his fervent appeal, every heart was
thrilling with emotion, though it may not perhaps have been of a
very noble kind. And, gentlemen, he was perfectly right. Millions,
yea tens of millions are lost to the revenue! But they are not lost
in the manner the prosecution has so graphically described; they are
not conveyed away in little boxes which hold but a minute quantity
of the drug. The millions of which we heard so much just now--Ah,
gentlemen! need I tell you who are the men that thus defraud the
revenue? Why your own hearts have already pronounced their names,
they are trembling now on your very lips. Those smugglers are not poor
dessa-folk, they flaunt their ill-gotten wealth boldly in the face of
our good people of Santjoemeh; and can afford to keep Singomengolos
to remove out of their path any unfortunate creature who may stand in
their way. Shall I mention these names which are even now on every
lip? Why should I do so? An Attorney General once ventured to lay
his finger on the plague-spot and to denounce these criminals to
the Governor General. What did he gain by it? That is the question
I would ask you?"

The young barrister here paused for a few moments, to allow these last
words, which he had driven home like a wedge, time to sink into the
hearts of his hearers. In the pandoppo the deepest silence reigned. The
assembled crowd sat breathless listening to every word as it fell from
van Beneden's lips. On all those faces there was but one expression,
and it said plainly enough "Aye truly! that is the state of things
which the accursed opium-monopoly has created in this island." After
a short pause, August continued:

"I now pass on to the second and far more terrible charge which has
been brought against my client. Shall I be able to purge him of that
accusation as I know that I have cleared him of the former? Here there
is no question of denial. The facts are all plain enough and are all
frankly admitted. The fatal deed has been done, the grave has closed
over the ill-starred victim; and the weapon, the kris with which the
fatal wound was inflicted, lies there before you on the table.

"The prosecution has given us a shockingly graphic description of
the terrible occurrence, and has painted, in the most vivid colours,
the manner in which that kris was slashed across the throat of the
unhappy bandoelan. It is not difficult to see why so much stress was
laid upon the bloody scene, and why we had the loathsome details so
forcibly placed before us. But yet, gentlemen, I venture to think,
that the cause of my client has been benefited rather than damaged by
this vivid word-painting. For the more painful the impression produced,
the more forcibly must the question arise: 'How was it possible that
a creature of so quiet and meek a nature could have been goaded to
a deed of such unbridled fury?' Again I appeal to the testimony of
William Verstork, and I think it well to tell you that I also have
personally and independently made a careful investigation into all the
facts of this most painful case; and the results of my personal inquiry
I will proceed to lay before you. Yes, gentlemen, I also shall have to
be graphic and realistic; but remember that I am merely following the
example set me by the prosecution. Yes, gentlemen, I also shall have
to enter into harrowing and revolting details; but I shall do so only
because the cause for which I am pleading compels me to that course."

And now the young lawyer displayed a power of eloquence such as had
never before been heard in Santjoemeh--never perhaps in all Dutch
India. He made use of words not only but also of gestures. He "acted"
as Mrs. van Gulpendam spitefully remarked to one of her friends.

Yes, he did enact before his spell-bound audience that tragic scene,
building up the entire drama, as Cuvier out of a single bone would
construct the entire skeleton of some antediluvian monster. He made
them see how the opium-hunters penetrated that peaceful dwelling. He
made them hear how Singomengolo haughtily refused to submit to any
examination. One could behold as it were the ruthless ransacking of
all the poor furniture, one could hear the children crying and wailing
at the licentious conduct of the ruffians who had respect neither
for age nor sex. The entire audience shuddered at the "Allah Tobat,"
the frenzied cry of the desperate mother, and one could see also how,
at his wife's bitter cry, Setrosmito's eye had, for a single instant,
glanced away from Singomengolo, and how the latter had profited by
that instant of distraction to draw forth the box of opium with a
gesture of insolent triumph. How rage and indignation wrung from the
unhappy father an abusive epithet which was answered immediately
by a blow in the mouth. How, stung to madness at that insult,
Setrosmito grasped his kris; how at that fatal moment the cry of
little Kembang had drawn the attention of the father to his poor
little girl; how he had seen her exposed to the hideous outrages of
the Chinese bandoelan. All these events the eloquence of the advocate
conjured up, as it were, before the eyes of his hearers. At the words,
"Let go!" uttered with incomparable energy, the audience seemed to
see the father flinging himself upon the astonished bandoelan, who,
dazed by the very imminence of peril, had not sufficient presence of
mind to desist from his outrageous conduct, and thereupon resounded
the terrible words, "Die then like a dog!" in a tone which filled
the entire pandoppo with shuddering horror.

Even Setrosmito, who profoundly ignorant of the Dutch language did
not understand a word of his counsel's speech, and had for some time
been sitting vacantly staring before him, even he, at length, grew
attentive, lifted his eyes inquiringly to the young man's face, and
then kept them riveted upon him with concentrated intensity. No! the
rich flow of words had no meaning to him whatever; but the gestures
he could interpret quite plainly. He saw the whole tragedy unfolded
before his eyes--he saw his outraged child--he saw the hand of the
speaker go through the very action which cost a human life. With eyes
glittering with excitement he nodded again and again at his counsel,
while thick heavy tear-drops kept trickling down his cheeks. "Yes,
that is how it happened," he murmured audibly amidst the deep silence
to the Javanese chiefs while he stretched out his arms imploringly
towards them.

"And," continued van Beneden, with still increasing fervour, "if now,
after having thus laid before you the bare facts of the case, if now I
turn to you with the question: 'Is that man guilty of murder--who slew
another--yes; but who slew him in a moment of ungovernable rage, and
in defence of his innocent child?' What must be your answer? Is there
anyone here who would cast a stone at him who drew the weapon--and who
used it--to preserve his own child from the foulest outrage that can
be perpetrated in a father's sight? Aye but, 'this is a question of
opium-police!' If I could, for a moment, harbour the thought that
anyone present under this roof would, for the sake of the opium
question, desire to hear a verdict of guilty returned against this
man--why then, in sheer despair, I should be driven to exclaim: 'Woe
to the nation that contains such a wretch--woe to the man, who, for
so sordid a principle, would tread Eternal Justice under foot--such
a nation must be near its fall!'"

The effect of these words was simply indescribable, a shudder seemed
to run through the assembly.

"And now," continued the young man turning to the prosecution, "go on
your way, pile one judicial error upon another, erect for yourself
a pedestal so lofty that the cry of the unhappy victim of the opium
traffic--that insatiable Minotaur--will not reach your ears! The time
will come, when, from above, retribution will overtake you. The day
will dawn when the Dutch nation will awake out of its lethargy and
sweep you and your opium-god from the face of the earth.

"As for you," continued August van Beneden turning to the members
of the council and speaking in a more subdued voice, but yet with a
persuasive energy which it was impossible to withstand, "as for you,
gentlemen, place yourselves, I pray you, in the position of that
unhappy man whose eyes were just now dropping tears as I sketched,
in a manner which could reach his comprehension, the terrible deed
of which he is accused. Picture to yourselves the hours--the days of
mortal anxiety he has passed through, and is even now passing through
as his fate is hanging on your lips--then you will in some measure,
be able to realise the unutterable joy with which he presently will
hail the verdict which you will deliver--a verdict of 'not guilty'
which will restore to his wife and family a man who can so sturdily
stand up in their defence."

Having thus said, van Beneden resumed his seat, or rather fell back
exhausted in his chair. It was getting late, the sun was high up
in the heavens, and an oppressive heat weighed like lead upon the
assembled crowd. For a few moments, absolute silence ensued, the
silence of emotions too deep for utterance and which was broken only
by a sob here and there. But then, a tempest of cheering arose which
made the very roof tremble, and amidst which the stentorian voice of
the usher was completely drowned.

This applause and general enthusiasm continued for a considerable time,
and was not hushed until the president had repeatedly threatened to
have the court cleared.

The prosecution was crushed, utterly annihilated. Feeling that his
cause was lost, the djaksa attempted to have the trial adjourned;
but Mr. Greveland saw plainly enough how very undesirable such an
adjournment would be; and he wisely refused to grant it.

Thus compelled there and then to get up and reply, Mas Wirio Kesoemo
could not rise to the level of his subject. He mumbled a few words
which did not awaken the slightest attention--he said something
about the necessity of vindicating the action of the police, he
uttered a few incoherent sentences, he stammered, he drawled, he
repeated himself over and over again, and finally sat down without
having produced any impression whatever. As soon as he had ended,
the president called upon the defence to exercise its right of reply.

With a gesture of lofty disdain, van Beneden refused to avail himself
of his privilege:

"No, no, Mr. President," he said, "anything I could now add would but
lessen the impression made by the prosecution. It is to the weakness
of the charge brought against him, rather than to the power of the
defence, that my client must owe his acquittal."

After a moment's pause the president turned to the panghoeloe and
asked him what law the sacred book prescribed.

In a sleepy tone of voice the latter replied, "An eye for an eye,
a tooth for a tooth--the man has taken a life--the man must die."

A shriek resounded in the pandoppo, a Javanese woman had fainted away.

The members of the council thereupon retired to their consulting
room. After a while they returned into court and the clerk proceeded
to read out an elaborate judgment, wherein, after a number of "seeing
thats" and "whereases," the verdict of "Not Guilty" on both counts was
at length pronounced. Then the real storm broke loose. A great number
of the audience rushed up to van Beneden and warmly congratulated him
on the victory he had just gained. The president, far from trying to
repress the general enthusiasm, now cordially joined in it. August
raised Setrosmito from the floor and whispered some words in his ear
which were immediately afterwards affirmed by the Regent himself.

The poor Javanese cast one single look at his young champion, he
pressed his hand to his heart and uttered a few incoherent words. But
that one look was sufficient for van Beneden, it was the overflowing
of a grateful heart. At the very bottom of the pandoppo one solitary
voice cried out:

"Great is the justice of the whites!"

A few moments after, the pandoppo was deserted. Said Grashuis to
his friend as he was walking home with him: "By Jove, old fellow,
you have knocked the wind clean out of me--I am still under the
spell. That is natural enough; but what I want to know is how you
managed to get the native chiefs on your side?"

"Very simply indeed," replied the other, "I called upon them yesterday
and read my speech to them in Malay."

"Come, come, that's cute!" laughed Grashuis. The young lawyer, however,
did not tell his friend that, at the conclusion of that visit, the
old Regent of Santjoemeh had pressed his hand and whispered to him:

"You are a noble fellow!"








CHAPTER XXXV.

A MEETING IN THE KARANG BOLLONG MOUNTAINS.


On the western slope of the Goenoeng Poleng--that mighty mass of
rock which forms the nucleus, as it were, of the Karang Bollong range
running along the South Coast of Java, and not far from the dessa Ajo
there stood a modest little hut. To the traveller approaching from
the North or from the South, it was completely hidden by the walls
of rock which towered around it. Steeply rising ground but scantily
covered with thin grass and prickly shrubs, shut out all view from
the back of the little cabin. From either side also nothing could
be seen but the rocky slopes, with here and there a small patch of
arable ground. But the front of the hut offered a prospect which,
for loveliness and variety, could hardly be equalled, certainly not
surpassed; and which amply made up for the dreariness of the view on
the other sides.

From the small front gallery or verandah the incline ran down pretty
swiftly, and displayed to the eye a panorama which might in truth
be called magnificent. Immediately beneath this verandah lay the
mountain-slope; at first bald and bare, with huge weather-worn boulders
scattered about here and there, and a few stunted shrubs. Between these
a narrow pathway ran winding down. In its tortuous course it seemed to
rival the brook, as, twisting and bubbling and splashing and foaming,
it went merrily and swiftly dancing down its fantastically-cut bed. As
gradually the slope ran down to the valley, the vegetable kingdom
began to assert itself more and more. At first there appeared dwarf
trees with curiously twisted trunks and strangely gnarled branches,
these, in their turn, gave way to the more luxuriant representatives
of the realm of Silvanus, and these again gradually merged into a rich
plantation of fruit-bearing trees, above which the tall cocoa-nut palms
reared their feathered heads waving and nodding to the breeze. Beyond
this, at the foot of the mountain, lay the little dessa Ajo, snugly
embowered in a mass of glossy foliage. Very pleasant to look at from
the eminence were the dwellings of the native villagers with their neat
brown roofs and bright yellow fences peeping here and there through
the rich verdure, reflected in the waters of the Kali Djetis, which
forms the western boundary of the dessa; and which, at that point,
makes a majestic sweep before emptying itself by a wide mouth into
the Indian Ocean.

The view of that ocean still further enhanced the beauty of the grand
panorama which lay stretched out in front of the little hut. On a
fine calm day the deep-blue expanse of water extended far--endlessly
far--away to the horizon, glittering under the rays of the tropical
sun like a metallic mirror; while numerous fishing boats, with their
white but quaintly-shaped sails, hovered about the Moeara Djetis,
and skimmed like birds over the glassy surface. When, however, the
South-East trade was blowing stiffly, and the flood-tide helped to
raise the waves, the aspect of the ocean was entirely changed. Then
not a single boat was to be seen; but heavy breakers came tumbling
in, and, as these reached the mouth of the river, and met the body
of downflowing mountain water, they would tower up and roll along
steadily for awhile as a huge wall of solid blue, then curl over
into mighty crests, and finally break into a foam-sheet of dazzling
whiteness. This magnificent spectacle, a kind of prororoca on a small
scale, could be watched from the verandah in its minutest details.

The hut itself was but a very poor little dwelling; constructed, as
those places generally are, of such primitive materials as bamboo and
atap. It consisted indeed merely of four walls and a roof. It had a
door in front and behind, which gave access to a small verandah, while,
in the side-walls, two square shutters did duty for windows. Whether
or not the space within was divided into separate apartments we cannot
tell. There are secrets into which a novelist must not venture to pry;
and there are feelings which, even he, must know how to respect. It
may be his duty--his painful duty--to introduce his readers to an
opium-den, and reveal to them the horrors it conceals, if, by so doing,
he may reasonably hope to do something to cure a crying evil; but he
ought not, without sufficient reason, to invade the sacred rights of
privacy by throwing open to his readers a cottage wherein--

But, modest as was the little building which stood there lonely
and deserted on that mountain slope, and poor as was its outward
appearance, yet there existed a very marked difference between it
and the other cabins, the dwellings of the dessa people, far down at
the foot of the mountain. The difference consisted herein, that it
was scrupulously neat and clean, and bore no trace whatever of the
slovenliness and general want of cleanliness which is too often the
characteristic of the houses of the ordinary Javanese villager. The
Javanese, indeed, are an Eastern race. As such they have certain
points in common with all the other branches of the great Oriental
family, whether we call them Moors, Hindoos, Arabs, Chinese, Egyptians,
Berbers, aye, or even Greeks, Italians, or Spaniards. The entire house
from top to bottom, from the roof of fresh nipah leaves to the hedge
of yellow bamboo hurdle, looked bright and clean. The small plot of
ground in front was carefully laid out as a trim garden with well
kept paths and pretty bits of green lawn. The flower-beds also, and
the ornamental shrubs, which grew around, spoke of careful tending,
while an impenetrable hedge of the conyza indica enclosed the entire
nook. At the back of the house lay a patch of grass, evidently used
as a drying ground, for several articles of female apparel, such as
slendangs, sarongs, and the like, were hanging on ropes stretched
over bamboo poles, and fluttered in the breeze.

In the front gallery a single flower-pot was conspicuous, a thing very
seldom found in any Javanese house, in which flowered a magnificent
"Devoniensis" in full bloom; and close by stood a native loom, at
which a young girl was seated cross-legged on a low bamboo stool.

Wholly intent upon her work, she is plying the shuttle with nimble
fingers. As novelist, we are, to some extent, a privileged being,
and may venture to draw near though we would not intrude into the
little house. The girl is so deeply absorbed in her task that we have
leisure, unperceived, to examine the further contents of the verandah;
but specially to watch its solitary occupant. That she has for some
considerable time been hard at work, the reel tells us; for it already
contains quite a thick roll of tissue, the result of her day's toil;
so does, likewise, the spinning-wheel, which stands hard by, ready
to supply the shuttle with thread as soon as it may need replenishing.

As regards the girl herself, she is, just now, bending forward over her
work so that we cannot catch even a glimpse of her features. Her dress,
consisting of a simple jacket of light-blue cotton, and the sarong made
of some dark-coloured material, with a gay flowering pattern, proclaim
her to be a Javanese. So also do the hands and such parts of the face
and neck as we are able to see, by their brownish yellow tint. So
again does the hair which is combed away smooth from the forehead
and rolled up at the back of the head in a thick heavy kondeh or plait.

Aye, but--that kondeh, however carefully it may have been plaited and
fastened up, yet it at once awakens our curiosity. Little rebellious
locks have here and there strayed away, and very unlike the stiff
straight hair of full-bred Javanese beauties, they curl and cluster
lovingly around the plait, while the shorter hair under the kondeh
also forms crisp little curls which cast a dark shade over the
light-brown neck.

"Might she be a nonna after all?" we murmur inaudibly.

Our suspicion is strengthened when, by the side of the little stool,
our eye lights upon a pair of tiny slippers. These slippers are not
remarkable in any way, they are of the simplest make and wholly devoid
of ornament; but it strikes us at once that in Java girls or women
hardly ever wear such things, and then--more remarkable still--their
size and shape point to the fact that the owner's feet in no way
correspond to the broad, splay feet of the natives.

As we stand wondering and losing ourselves in surmises, the weaving
girl very slightly changes her position, and one snow-white toe comes
peeping out from under her sarong. The startling difference of colour
betrays the secret at once: She is a nonna!

Wholly unconscious of our proximity the girl looks up and casts a
single glance at the fair view stretched out before her--she utters
a deep sigh and--

"That face," we murmur inwardly, "where have we seen that pretty face?"

We have, however, no time to collect our thoughts, for, the next
moment as the young girl is again bowing her head to resume her work,
a quick light footstep is heard on the path which leads to Ajo. The
girl looks up, evidently scared at the unusual sound, she peers
anxiously forward and then, almost bereft of the power of speech by
the suddenness of the surprise, she gasps forth the cry, "Dalima!"

Yes, it is indeed Dalima who, with nimble step, has crossed the garden
and is now running up to the verandah. The weaving-girl starts up from
her stool, and before her unexpected visitor has time to mount the
three steps, the pair are locked in each other's embrace and forming,
as it were, but one exclamation we hear the words:

"Nana!"

"Dalima!"

Now the mystery is cleared up, now we recognize at once both the one
and the other. That weaving girl is Anna van Gulpendam and the other
is poor Dalima whom we followed in her anxious and painful search as
far as Karang Anjer when we lost sight of her until now.

"Where have you come from?" asked Anna, as again and again she clasped
the Javanese girl to her breast.

"To-day I came from the dessa Ajo," archly replied Dalima.

"What brought you there?"

"Well, I came from the dessa Pringtoetoel, that's where I was
yesterday."

"But," continued Anna, "what business had you there?"

"The day before that," resumed Dalima not heeding the interruption,
"I was at Gombong and the day before that again at Karang Anjer."

"At Karang Anjer?" exclaimed Anna. "What induced you to go there?"

"To look for my Nana," was the reply.

"To look for me? Is that why you have come all the way from
Santjoemeh? Have you undertaken so long a journey to look for me?--and
in your condition too!"

Anna spoke these last words with some hesitation, while the furtive
glance she cast at the poor girl's figure left no doubt as to her
meaning.

"Yes, Nana," replied Dalima very quietly and without the least trace
of confusion. "As soon as ever I left the prison, thanks to the aid of
the young judge," continued she, as she fixed one penetrating look upon
Anna who felt the blood fly up to her cheeks at the words, "I went to
look after my mother. Thanks again to toean Nerekool, I found her and
the children well provided for. My next thought was for my Nana. The
toean had told me that the nonna was no longer staying at Karang
Anjer but had left, and had vanished without leaving a trace behind
her. I thought I could guess why. I knew how lonely, how forsaken,
how utterly miserable my dear Nana must feel. An irresistible longing
came over me--the longing you know of a young woman in my situation--"
she added with a faint sad smile, "to go at once and look for Nana
so that I might be of some service to her. I started and--"

"Does toean van Nerekool know of all this?" asked Anna much alarmed.

"No, Nana, he knows nothing whatever about it."

"You did not tell him what you were going to do?"

"No, Nana, I did not."

"Might you not perhaps have dropped some hint to Mr. van Nerekool,
or may be to your mother? Do, Dalima, try and remember!"

"No, I have not given toean Charles the slightest hint of my
intention. I told my mother that I was going to seek for you."

"Where?" asked Anna.

"Well, Nana, at Karang Anjer."

"But you knew that you would not find me at Karang Anjer?"

"Oh, I knew that; but I wanted to see Mrs. Steenvlak. I thought she
would be sure to tell me where you had gone."

"Did you go to Mrs. Steenvlak?" inquired Anna,

"Yes, Nana."

"And--?"

"I could learn nothing from her. The njonja confessed that she knew
where you were; but she refused to tell me--she said she had promised
not to let anyone know."

Anna drew a deep sigh of relief.

"But how then did you manage to find me, Dalima?" she asked.

"Well, Nana, how shall I tell you that? It is such a long story. I
have been wandering about in all directions, I have made inquiries
everywhere. I asked at the posting-houses, at the loerahs of each dessa
I passed through. I questioned the gardoes and the stall-keepers on
the road. In fact I asked everywhere and everybody. In my wanderings,
at length I happened to come to the dessa Pembanan."

"The dessa Pembanan!" cried Anna in the greatest agitation.

"Yes," resumed Dalima, "that's where I found the first trace. You
took a cup of coffee there at a stall while you had to wait for the
pole of your sedan to be repaired."

Anna glanced down uneasily at her yellow-stained hands.

"Oh! it is no use looking at your hands," continued Dalima with
a smile. "The old stall-keeper has sharp eyes and the stain could
hardly deceive her. She guessed at once that you were either a nonna
or a princess."

"Well, go on!" sighed Anna.

"You asked her how far Pembanan was from the dessas Sikaja and
Pringtoetoel--did you not?"

"Yes, that is so," replied Anna.

"Very well, then, that clue I have followed, up hill and down dale."

"Poor, poor dear girl!" cried Anna, as with tears in her eyes she
again clasped Dalima to her breast. "Poor child! such a journey, and
in your condition, too! Yes, now I see how worn and weary you look!"

"Oh, that's nothing!" cried Dalima cheerfully, "that's nothing,
I am strong enough, Nana, don't trouble yourself about that.

"At Pringtoetoel," she continued, "I got further information. There
they told me that you had gone on to the dessa Ajo. When I got there
I found the very sedan in which you had travelled--it was stowed away
in the loerah's grounds--and they told me that you had a house built
for yourself up here--How very pretty!"

As she said this Dalima looked around; and an involuntary sigh
escaped from her lips, a sigh which contrasted strangely with her
spoken words. The Javanese girl could not help comparing this wretched
little tenement with the stately Residential palace at Santjoemeh.

Hitherto the conversation had been carried on standing, the girls half
leaning upon, half embracing one another. Said Anna, who perfectly
understood the meaning of that sigh and wished to break the train of
Dalima's thoughts:

"Come, let us sit down, you must be dead-tired, poor Dalima."

So saying she resumed her seat on the little bench while Dalima,
as in days gone by, squatted down on the mat at Anna's feet and laid
her head lovingly in her mistress's lap. Then the conversation flowed
on as briskly as before.

"No, Nana," said Dalima, "I am not the least tired. I arrived yesterday
morning, very early, at Ajo and have had plenty of time for rest."

"But now," resumed Anna, "do tell me something about yourself, about
your own affairs, about the trial and all that."

Thereupon followed the story with which our readers are acquainted. We
need hardly add that in the telling of it van Nerekool's name was
by no means forgotten. Dalima's deep gratitude to her benefactor
would not allow her for an instant to neglect his interests. It even
seemed as if that gentleman's name was introduced into her story more
frequently than the narrative strictly required. So much so that Anna
could not help saying:

"Will you assure me, will you swear, that it was not at Mr. van
Nerekool's suggestion that you have undertaken this journey in quest
of me?"

"Yes, Nana, I will swear it," replied Dalima readily and with the
utmost candour.

"And now," continued Anna, "you must make me another promise, and
that is that you will never in any way whatever, let him know that
you have succeeded in finding me."

Dalima made no reply. For a few moments she hesitated.

"Now listen to me, Dalima," resumed Anna very firmly, "if you will
not make me that promise, and promise it most solemnly, then we must
part. You will have to leave me and I shall go elsewhere. Heaven only
knows where I shall go to!"

One instant the Javanese girl looked up at her companion
incredulously--then seeing that Anna was in downright earnest she
exclaimed:

"Not stay with you, Nana! Oh! do not say so. I who have travelled
so far to be with you. You cannot mean it. Not stay with you? But
that can never be. I have left my parents, my friends, my home,
my all--only to be close to you--and now you talk of parting!"

The poor child could get no further; uncontrollable sobs stifled
her voice.

"No, no!" cried Anna, who was in reality no less deeply moved than
her companion; "no, no, very far from it. Above all things I wish
to keep you here with me; but you must promise that you will not let
anyone know where I am hiding--will you promise that?"

Dalima flung herself weeping into her mistress's arms:

"You are so lonely here, so miserably poor!" she sobbed.

"Oh, that is nothing," cried Anna, "never mind that; I have got used
to it."

"He loves you so dearly, so tenderly," pleaded the baboe.

"Not another word on that subject, Dalima," said Anna, very sternly;
"you cannot possibly understand how insurmountable a barrier there
exists between Mr. van Nerekool and myself. There can never be
a question of marriage between us, let me tell you that once and
for all."

The baboe made no immediate reply, but went on sobbing and weeping
as if her heart would break.

"Will you make that promise, Dalima?" insisted Anna.

"I owe him so much," sobbed Dalima, "I am so anxious to make him
happy."

"You would be doing him the greatest wrong, Dalima."

"Wrong?" cried the baboe, "how so? by bringing him to you; oh, Nana!"

"Once again, I say not another word on that subject," cried Anna; and
then, taking her companion's hand she continued: "Now, Dalima, give
me your hand--so, that is right; now you will give me your promise,
will you not?"

"It makes my heart ache to think of it," sobbed Dalima, "but if you
will have it so, I must obey. I give you my promise."

"That's a good girl," said Anna cheerfully, but with a painful
smile. "Now I am glad that you have come, for you will be able to
help me, oh! ever so much. Look what a splendid striped material I
have here on the loom."

"Do you make those things, yourself, Nana?" asked Dalima in pitying
accents, "you, the daughter of a kandjeng toean Resident?"

"Now, Dalima," said Anna sadly, "that is another subject you must never
mention. Not a soul knows me here. They do not so much as suspect
that I am a white woman. They take me for a Solo princess who has
been banished by her father--you told me so yourself--Oh! there are
such funny stories about that, the one funnier than the other. You see
that name of poetri is of the greatest use to me. The good dessa-folk
look upon me as a kind of supernatural being and it protects me from
all danger. Why even the old woman who sells my goods takes me for
a relative of the Queen of the South, and can get much better prices
for me than the things would otherwise fetch."

"Do you sell those 'kains' you make, Nana?" exclaimed Dalima, folding
her hands in sorrowful wonder, "you, the child of a kandjeng toean?"

"But Dalima," replied Anna, with a smile, "that child of a kandjeng
toean, as you call her, must eat like other mortals. Come, I must get
on with my work, we have wasted too much time already in talking. That
kain polèng mas has been ordered and I must get it done as soon
as possible."

So Anna set to work again at the loom. Dalima, for a little while,
sat watching her with tearful eyes; but presently she jumped up, took
the spinning-wheel and placed it close to the loom so that they could
continue their conversation without allowing their hands to be idle,
and then began industriously to spin. So clever did she show herself
at the wheel that Anna gave her an approving nod and said:

"That's right; now I shall have some real help and we shall get on
famously. Nothing kept me back so much as that continual spinning
every time my spool was empty."

"Oh, but," said Dalima, with a smile, and not without a touch of pride,
"I can do a good deal more than spinning. You will see I can take my
turn at the loom as well. I am a particularly good hand at painting
on linen."

"Indeed, I am glad to hear that; then you will be of the greatest use
to me; for I must confess I am as yet rather awkward at it though I
have improved very much since I began. Before we go and get dinner
ready I must show you some of my productions in that line."

Thus chatting, the girls went on working diligently for another
couple of hours until it became time to go to the kitchen. In that
department also, everything was poor enough. It required no very
elaborate cookery-book to prepare their simple meal. Dalima would
not allow her Nana to have any hand whatever in the cooking. She
took the basket of raw rice, ran to the brook which flowed hard by,
thoroughly washed the grains until the water ran off clear through the
basket. Then she put the koekoesan on the fire in a dangdang, wrapped
a little salt fish with herbs and Spanish pepper in pisang leaves to
make pèpèsan ikan, and roasted them slightly over the glowing coal
fire. Next she toasted a few strips of meat and had everything ready
long before the rice was done.

"Now, Nana," she asked as she looked around, "where is our table and
the table-linen? I want to lay the cloth."

"You forget, it seems, Dalima, that I have turned Javanese. If I wish
to remain unknown, I must conform, in every respect, to the manners
and customs of our dessa-people There is my table and these are my
knife and fork."

Thus saying, Anna pointed downwards to the pandan mat which covered
the floor and then held up her taper fingers.

Dalima heaved a deep sigh.

"But, Nana," she asked, "can it be necessary for you to work and to
live thus? Have you then no money at all?"

"Money!" replied Anna, who retained all her pride in the midst of
her adversity, "I have plenty of money, I am very well off, I might
indeed call myself rich for one in my position. But you must not
forget that I am in hiding; and that if I did not work and did not
live exactly like the natives, they would begin to suspect me and
then my hiding-place would very soon be discovered. Moreover, who can
tell what the future may have in store; the day may come when that
money which I now so carefully hoard, though you may perhaps think
me stingy, may be of the greatest use to us?"

"Oh, Nana!" cried the baboe, as she strove to put in a word.

But Anna would have no arguments.

"Come, come," said she, "let us change the subject. While the rice
is boiling, come and see how I have been getting on with my painting."

She took Dalima into the back-gallery where stood several frames on
which were stretched the tissues she had woven and which showed the
process of painting in all its stages. On one of them the piece of
linen was as yet pure white and the flowers which were to be painted
were only lightly traced upon it. Another frame showed the designs
partly covered with wax, so as to protect these parts from the action
of the dye. On a third again the ground colour had been applied and
the wax had been removed from such portions of the design as were
to receive the next coat of paint. Neatly arranged around stood
the small pots of colours, of indigo, of red paint, of brown paint,
of yellow paint, and so forth.

All these things Dalima surveyed with the critical eye of an expert
and she highly approved of the arrangements. She took up a saucer
which held the wax, and having held it to the fire, she proceeded,
by means of a little tube, to pour the melted substance on one of
the drawings and so gave proof of her skill in that kind of work.

"You see, Nana!" she cried, triumphantly, "you see how useful I shall
be to you! I shall also teach you how to use the 'aboe Kesambi' (ashes
of the Scheichera trijaga), I don't see any about here--then you will
see how vastly your flowers will improve in colour and softness."

Thus then had baboe Dalima found a home on the slope of the Goenoeng
Poleng. Thus she was again united to the young mistress to whom
she was attached with a fervour of devotion which is not uncommon
among Javanese servants. Both girls toiled and moiled together. Anna
insisted upon taking her full share in all the drudgery of the little
housekeeping--and whatever objections the baboe might strive to
make, Anna would share and share alike. In Dalima she had acquired
not a servant; but a true and faithful companion and friend, and a
comforter and supporter in the time of her bitter trial. How long
was that peaceful life to last--?








CHAPTER XXXVI.

LIM HO'S WEDDING.


On a fine September morning, of the same year in which the other
events of our story took place, Santjoemeh was once again in a state
of commotion. And no wonder. For that day had been fixed upon for
the marriage of Lim Ho. Of Lim Ho, the son of the opium farmer,
the son of the millionaire Lim Yang Bing, with Ngow Ming Nio,
the prettiest Chinese girl of Santjoemeh, the prettiest perhaps in
all Dutch India. She was the only daughter of old Ngow Ming Than, a
speculator who had dealt in every possible thing out of which money
could be made, and who was honoured, esteemed and sought after for
the sake of the millions he had scraped together. Money everywhere
exercises a certain power of attraction; not otherwise was it at
Santjoemeh, and the union of two such enormous capitals was certain,
therefore, to awaken general interest. Moreover, a Chinese wedding
of this kind was a very rare occurrence, and the reports of the
magnificence which the house of Lim Yang Bing would display on the
occasion, were so extravagant that they bordered on the miraculous,
and opened to the imagination visions like those of the Arabian Nights.

All Santjoemeh--taking these words in the same sense as "tout Paris"
on similar occasions--had been scheming and intriguing to obtain an
invitation; and many a pleasant smile had been lavished on babah Ong
Sing Kok, or on babah Than Soeï, the purveyors of Mesdames Zoetbrouw
and Greenhoed, ladies who, in the ordinary way, did not waste their
blandishments on Chinamen, because it was thought that these gentlemen
had a pretty large acquaintance among the staff of servants on Lim
Yang Bing's establishment, and that through them the much coveted
card of invitation might be procured.

There were some who were wicked enough to whisper, that a certain nonna
had promised one of Lim Ho's cousins to give him a kiss if he would
procure her parents a ticket for admission. The wicked went on to say,
that this Chinaman, a shrewd fellow--like most of his race--had refused
to undertake the negotiation, unless he received payment on account; an
instalment which was not to count on the day of final settlement. That
these negotiations had been very much protracted owing to the many
difficulties which would constantly arise; that, on every such check
in the proceedings, progress had to be reported to the young lady,
and that our artful young Celestial had made every fresh effort on
his part depend upon the payment of another instalment on hers. If
all this were true, then the poor nonna must have paid pretty dearly
for her ticket--in kisses. That, however, is the story of the wicked,
it is not ours. On that September morning then, Santjoemeh was in a
fever of excitement and expectation. If here and there perhaps Lim
Ho's ugly adventure with baboe Dalima had not been forgotten, the
remembrance of that outrage did not damp the general enthusiasm, or
keep any one at home. Those who were troubled with a somewhat tender
conscience, laid the flattering unction to their soul that, as there
had been no prosecution, probably the whole story was false, or that,
at the worst, no great harm had been done. Others there were who
fully believed the truth of the reports which had been spread abroad;
and who actually envied Lim Ho his "bonne fortune." That Dalima was
such a pretty girl! Oh, no! there was no one who would deny himself
the expected pleasure on that account. It was very much the other way.

The evening before the eventful day, Santjoemeh had had something like
a foretaste of the coming joy. For, on that evening, a procession
had started to the Chinese temple. Now, marriage has, in the
celestial empire, no necessary connection whatever with any religious
observances; yet, on the present occasion, it had been thought well to
propitiate the goddess Má Tsów Pô, the guardian and protecting deity
of candidates for matrimony and of newly married people. Accordingly,
on the eve of the wedding, a procession had been formed in front of
the bride's house. First came a numerous band of native musicians who,
on their brass instruments accompanied by a drum of monstrous size,
performed a selection of waltzes, polkas, mazurkas and redowas. In
spite of the horrible dissonance of their execution, these lively
tunes would have set even Johann Strauss a jigging could he but have
heard them. Then followed a corps of Chinese artists whose grating
one-stringed fiddles, clashing cymbals and discordant screeching
wind-instruments, alternated with the former band; and produced a mixed
medley of hideous sounds, which literally set one's teeth on edge,
and put all but the most inveterate sightseers to instant flight. At
the head of the procession and in its rear, marched six torch-bearers,
while eight paper lanterns were born aloft on red poles on either
side. These shed a soft coloured light and, by their fantastic shapes,
imparted a thoroughly Chinese air to the scene. But the nucleus,
and most important part of the pageant, consisted of twelve boys who
walked two and two, and were called 'lo jen see' (barefeet). They
were dressed in short nankin gowns reaching only to the knee, under
which appeared the bare legs and feet, and on their heads they wore
tall conical caps, trimmed with red fringe. Each of these youths held
in his hand the pa-lee, or hollow metal ring containing little bits
of iron, from which hung small copper bells. With these, the bearers
made a gentle rattling sound as they marched along.

When the temple was reached, the boys grouped themselves around the
image of Má Tsów Pô, a deity represented as standing on the clouds
and wearing a crown in token of her dignity of Queen of Heaven. Then,
to a kind of measure, they began to mumble and chaunt their prayers
and incantations, shaking their ring the while incessantly. This went
on for about the space of an hour, and then the procession reformed
and marched homeward with a far greater crowd at its heels than had
accompanied its setting out.

The next day, however, was the great day.

Very early in the morning carriages began to rattle through the
streets of Santjoemeh, to fetch the landowners, officials, and other
distinguished guests, who lived in the country round about. On the
stroke of ten the élite of the Residence had assembled in the vast
inner-gallery of Lim Yang Bing's mansion. The gentlemen were all in
full-dress, in uniform, or in black evening dress; the ladies wore
ball toilettes; and at the entrance a number of Chinese boys were
stationed to hand to each of their fair guests a bouquet of lovely
pink roses. As one by one the principal guests drove up, crackers were
let off, varying in number according to the social position of the
individual who presented himself. If two or more happened to enter
together, bunches of crackers were exploded in exact proportion to
the number of visitors; and sometimes these fireworks exploded with
a din that was almost deafening.

At length Mr. van Gulpendam and his fair spouse made their
appearance. They were received and escorted into the house by
Chinese officers with the most punctilious ceremony. At his entrance,
two copper serpents were exploded, and there were flatterers among
the company who declared to Laurentia and to Lim Yang Bing, that,
compared to the din these terrible serpents made, an eruption of
Krakatoea was but child's play.

The object of this infernal noise was two-fold. It was useful on the
one hand to frighten away the evil spirits who might be lurking about
the premises, and, on the other, it served as an expression of joy
and as an evidence of cordial welcome to the visitors.

As soon as the Resident had arrived, a long line of the intimate
friends and acquaintances of the bridegroom, accompanied by the
inevitable band and by the barefeet who had officiated on the
previous evening, started off to fetch the bride from the house of
her parents. Meanwhile, the major and the captain of the Chinese
did the honours of the feast, while the lieutenants of that nation
acted as masters of the ceremonies. Nothing could be more courteous
than the manner in which these gentlemen acquitted themselves of their
onerous duties. They attended to every want, they offered refreshments;
and soon the popping of champagne corks indoors began to mingle with
the incessant banging of the fireworks without; and generous wine,
iced in huge silver bowls, was foaming and sparkling in the crystal
glasses. For the ladies, there was an ample supply of hippocras,
Golden water, Chartreuse and other liqueurs.

Lim Yang Bing had offered his arm to fair Laurentia, and the pair
walked leisurely up and down that stately saloon, which, under ordinary
circumstances, might be called magnificent, but had now been specially
decorated with the utmost skill and taste. The woodwork, the pillars,
the beams and architraves of the apartment were all curiously carved
and heavily gilt, and represented either hideous dragon-forms, or else
scenes of domestic life in China. The walls were tinted a delicate
rose-colour, and the floor, of pure Carrara marble, was covered with
matting woven of the finest split rottan. At the end of this splendid
saloon stood the altar of Tao Peng Kong gorgeously decorated, while
wide strips of red silk, bearing black Chinese letters, hung on either
side of the sanctuary.

"Tell me, babah," asked the Resident's wife, "what may be the meaning
of that scribble on those red rags?"

"They are proverbs, njonja, taken from Kong Foe Hi," gallantly replied
the Chinaman.

"Yes, but what do they mean?"

"That one, njonja, signifies: 'May the five blessings abide in this
house.'"

"And the others?"

"They are the names of the five blessings."

"Ah indeed!" continued Laurentia, "and what are those blessings?"

"A long life, peace and rest, love of virtue, wealth and a happy end
as the crown of life."

"And what do the letters on those lanterns signify? I say, babah,
they are very fine!" said Laurentia pointing upward at the lanterns,
depending from the ceiling and from the beams.

They were handsome hexagonal contrivances skilfully made, in the
Chinese style, of wrought copper, and having large plates of pure
polished crystal let into the sides.

"Yes, yes, njonja," assented the babah with a complacent smile,
"as you say they are very beautiful objects; but they cost a good
deal of money. Now could you give a guess at the price of one of
those copper lanterns?"

"Not I, babah! how could I? let me see--they may be worth some fifty
guilders."

"Fifty guilders!" exclaimed the Chinaman with something like pity
for her ignorance. "Oh, njonja, how could you have made such a bad
shot. Why! I thought you prized the masterpieces of our Chinese art
somewhat more highly than that!"

"Well!" said the crafty woman, "and what, pray, may be the value of
the things?"

"Every lantern, njonja, you see hanging there, has cost me in Canton,
three hundred and fifty guilders, without reckoning carriage and duty."

"Oh, never mind that!" laughed Laurentia, "I daresay you managed to
smuggle them across."

"No, njonja, by Kong, no! I can show you the receipt from the
custom-house. Will the njonja--"

"No, babah, don't trouble yourself, I take your word for it. But what
may they have cost you altogether?"

"Close upon four hundred guilders a piece, njonja."

"There are about thirty of them I should think," said Laurentia.

"Only five and twenty, njonja."

"Only! Only five and twenty!" said Mrs. van Gulpendam smiling. "It
is pretty well, I should say--ten thousand guilders worth of lanterns!"

Lim Yang Bing's face glowed with satisfaction. Like most parvenus he
took an intense delight in letting every one know what he had paid
for the precious objects he exhibited.

"And look, njonja," he continued, "pray look at those tigers."

With these words the opium-farmer pointed to a pair of red marble
tigers. The figures were life-size and were represented crouching on
two black marble pedestals at the foot of the two pillars one on each
side of the altar.

"Yes, babah, I admire them much--they are very fine indeed! They must
have cost a pretty penny I should think?"

"Each one of those figures represents five thousand guilders, njonja."

"But babah!" cried Laurentia.

"You see, njonja," said the babah sententiously, "when one gives a
wedding party of this kind, one ought to do it well. Have you noticed
that cock over the altar yonder?"

"I see it, babah, I see it, how exquisitely it is carved."

"It is cut out of a single block of peachwood," said the Chinaman,
"that little thing alone has cost me twelve hundred guilders."

"I say, babah! you must be a rich man," remarked Laurentia.

"So, so," replied the Chinaman inordinately proud in his assumed
modesty. "Do you happen to know what the wedding breakfast and this
evening's banquet will cost me?"

"No, I don't--do tell me, babah!"

"Well, I will--they will stand me in very nearly fifteen thousand
guilders."

"Why, babah! you must be a very rich man," said Laurentia in a
wheedling voice.

"Oh, not very," whined the Chinaman. "But you don't know how much I
give my son as my wedding gift."

"You mean to Lim Ho, the bridegroom? No, I cannot guess--do tell
me, babah?"

"Two millions!" he whispered, fairly beside himself with delight.

"Two million guilders!" exclaimed Laurentia, feigning the utmost
surprise. "Why, babah, you must have a mint of money!"

"No, njonja, not overmuch!"

"And all of it out of your opium contract, eh?"

The Chinaman looked at his fair companion, he gave her a very strange
look; that word opium had completely sobered him.

"And you have only had the contract for three years, I think,
babah?" continued Laurentia.

Lim Yang Bing nodded assent. In his heart he was beginning to curse
his boasting and vapouring.

"Have you seen the Resident lately?" asked Laurentia carelessly,
but determined to strike while the iron was hot.

"No, njonja," replied the Chinaman politely, but with none of his
former gush.

"I know he wishes to speak to you about the contract--it runs out I
think with the current year?"

"Yes, njonja."

"And I think the monopoly for the next three years will be granted
some time this month?"

"Yes, njonja."

"Do you intend to bid for it, babah?"

"I think so, njonja."

"Yes, njonja! no, njonja! I think so, njonja!" cried Laurentia
mimicking the poor Chinaman most comically, "But, hush, someone
is listening--What do you say is the meaning of those words on the
lanterns, babah?"

The last question she asked in her ordinary tone of voice, with that
light-hearted giggle which was peculiar to the handsome woman.

"Those letters mean: 'We pray for happiness and prosperity.'"

"Thank you, and on that one yonder?"

"The word on that one signifies: 'Lantern of Heaven?'"

Thus talking they had walked away out of ear-shot.

"Now," resumed Laurentia in a subdued voice, "now we can go on with
our conversation:

"You seem to be very lukewarm about that monopoly business, babah. I
fear you will have a competitor at the auction."

"Who is he?" asked Lim Yang Bing somewhat eagerly.

"I have heard the name of Kwee Sioen Liem mentioned, the Solo man;
you know!"

"Indeed," muttered the Chinaman evidently much put out.

"Yes, they say he is a rich man, he may do you some damage perhaps,
babah," continued Mrs. van Gulpendam fixing her glittering eyes upon
her companion.

To this Lim Yang Bing made no reply, but he kept on with measured
step walking by the side of the Resident's wife.

"That bit of information does not seem to affect you very
much?" continued Laurentia with a slight sneer.

"Is that why the Resident wants to see me?" asked the Chinaman.

"Yes, I think so, partly at least for that; and I believe he has
some other business to transact with you. The Government, you know,
expects the bids to go much higher this year."

"Oh ho!" grinned the Chinaman.

"You now pay twelve hundred thousand guilders for your monopoly,
do you not? You will have to make it twenty, or else the Government
will keep the whole business in its own hands."

"Let them!" said Lim Yang Bing smiling disdainfully, "I should very
much like to see that." But, after a moment's reflection, he went on:
"It is quite impossible to offer more; as it is, we can only just
avoid a loss."

"And yet you can manage to give two millions to your son as a wedding
present," remarked Laurentia, with a knowing laugh.

"Aye," he continued, as if he had not heard the remark, "if the
Government would grant more licenses in the Residence, in that case."--

"Is that all?" cried Laurentia carelessly. "How many do you hold
now? But; that is no business of mine. How many more do you want?"

"Ten at the very least," was the ready answer.

"That's a good many, babah!--if ten additional licenses were granted,
then I understand you to say that you are prepared to go up to two
millions?"

Lim Yang Bing could only nod assent; he had no time to express
himself verbally, for at that moment the procession, which had gone
to fetch the bride had returned, and was appearing at the entrance
of the gallery.

Its arrival was greeted with an explosion of fireworks so tremendous,
and a cacophony from the Chinese band so hideous, that the din was
absolutely deafening. If any evil spirits had been lurking about,
that atrocious noise must certainly have made them take to their
heels. No, not even the Shan Sao could stand that. In the midst of all
this uproar, a comely group of Chinese maidens, very demure damsels,
with finely cut features and modestly attired in picturesque gowns
of yellow silk, with rose coloured sashes round their slim little
waists, came forward to meet the bride and to bid her welcome. They
offered her a garland of peach blossom, the emblem of maiden purity,
and some nick-nacks amongst which was a cock, the emblem of the sungod,
curiously carved out of peach-wood.

Lim Ho also advanced to offer his hand to Ngow Ming Nio, and to lead
her to a table well furnished with the customary viands. On that
board appeared an endless array of dishes, the usual Chinese dishes,
such as sharks' fins, soup made of stags' tendons and birds' nests,
"kiemlo" and "bahmieh" (two fat soups) and other delicacies of
no particular significance. But besides these the table contained
other articles of food to which a distinctly emblematical meaning
was attached. There was the pomegranate sliced in such a manner as
to display to the greatest advantage its innumerable seedgrains,
signifying the numerous offspring with which might the marriage be
richly blessed! There were large heaps of the orange, fit emblem of
the sweetness of life, which might the happy pair long enjoy! There
were clusters of the oyster, typifying the distinct personality of
each member and the unbroken unity of the entire family; and lastly
some cuttings of the sugar cane, signifying the blessedness of the
married state which, as that cane from knot to knot, from joint to
joint, still increases in sweetness and in love.

The betrothed couple now took their place at the table, Lim Ho at his
bride's left hand, the place of honour in China. Before them were set
two mighty goblets of pure gold. Both the beakers were filled with
wine to the brim, and were connected with one another by a thread of
scarlet silk. Then the bride and bridegroom simultaneously drained
half the contents of the cups, after which they exchanged goblets,
taking care however, that the scarlet thread remained unbroken. This
time the cups were drained.

"Ouff!" cried van Beneden, who was present with his friends, "it is
enough to take one's breath away! Each of those things must hold at
least a bottle and a half of wine I bet! For Lim Ho it is nothing;
but for that poor little thing!"

"Aye, and I bet, you wouldn't mind hob-nobbing with pretty Ngow Ming
Nio," replied Grenits.

"Do hold your tongue!" said Grashuis as he glanced at a group of
Chinamen who stood near, and who looked anything but pleased at the
unseemly burst of merriment which at so solemn a moment, had greeted
Grenits' words.

"Hush! Hush!" was the cry on all sides.

Resident van Gulpendam glared round indignantly, and Laurentia looked
black as thunder at the interruption in the midst of the drinking
ceremony.

Van Rheijn would have crept underground to avoid those terrible eyes.

When the couple had thus copiously pledged one another, the bridegroom
took the left hand of the bride. He raised it to the level of her
breast, and in that attitude, the pair gravely saluted one another.

"I say," whispered Grenits, "I wish that dear little pet would give
me such a bow."

"I daresay," remarked August van Beneden; "a dear little pet with
two millions of money."

"Hush, hush!" was again the cry.

"Pooh!" cried Grenits, "millions squeezed out of the opium trade!"

The young lawyer hung his head in confusion.

"You are right," said he. "No! from such a source I would not take
a single farthing!"

"Hush, hush!"

Van Gulpendam's eyes flashed with indignation. The next rite was a very
curious one indeed. Two dishes were placed before the betrothed. They
contained a mixture of red and white pellets, the size of an ordinary
pea.

Grenits turned to one of the Chinamen who stood close beside him in
the crowd, and asked what might be the meaning of this ceremony.

"Are they medicine?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," replied the Chinaman. "The red balls represent the Jang
or male, the white represent the Jin or female principle in nature."

"Hush, hush!" resounded again on all sides. Lim Ho and the bride now,
each in a golden spoon, took up a red and a white ball, swallowed
them and once again bowed deeply to one another. Then the dishes
were interchanged, just as the cups had been before, the ceremony was
repeated and with that act, the marriage was complete. They were now
man and wife inseparably joined together.

Ngow Ming Nio and Lim Ho, the one set of millions was joined to
the other.

During all these festive rites, did Lim Ho bestow even one passing
thought upon his victim, baboe Dalima? We doubt it.

The nuptial ceremonies having been thus performed, the young wife took
up in the spoon two of the little balls and gracefully presented them
to the lips of her husband, and, with a winning smile, invited him to
eat. By this rite the newly married woman bound herself to bear all
the cares and anxieties of the domestic arrangements in the future
household. While this ceremony was going on, one of the oldest members
of the family audibly recited a few words in the Chinese tongue.

"What is he saying?" asked Grenits, turning to his friendly neighbour.

"O toean," replied the latter, "it is a quotation from the Sji-king,
the book of songs which was printed long, very long ago."

(It is said to have been printed in the eleventh century B.C.)

"But what is the meaning of the quotation?"

"It has a very pretty meaning--something like this: 'The peach tree
is young and fair, its blossoms are pure and bright--this young woman
is going to her future home and will be an excellent manager of her
domestic affairs.'"

"Very pretty indeed!" laughed Grenits.

When the young wife had thus, typically, served her husband with food,
both made another low obeisance, and this concluded the ceremony.

The last bow was the signal for another terrific outburst of noise. The
small cannon thundered, salvos of innumerable mertjons were fired off,
the band of the Santjoemeh militia, which had appeared but lately
on the scene, played up with all its might, the Chinese orchestra
shrieked forth most dismal wails, and that roaring, that crackling,
that drumming, that tooting, that sawing and scraping produced a din
so indescribably stunning and so hideous that an ear-drum of bull's
hide could hardly have endured the noise.

In the midst of this tumult the newly married couple took up their
position in front of the altar of Tao' Peh Kong. First, they each
kindled a little stick of sandal wood and fragrant incense which,
while burning, they stuck into a massive golden bowl half filled with
scented ashes. Thus having paid their homage to the household god, they
turned to receive the congratulations of the company. This was not a
national custom at all, for in China, when no white men are present,
the wedded pair at once retire to their apartment. It was, in fact,
a concession made to Western usage, and the Chinamen who were present
scrupulously avoided taking any part in it. The majority of them left,
to show their zeal, no doubt, by letting off some more fireworks and
completing the rout of the evil spirits.

Resident van Gulpendam, taking his wife's arm, at once headed the
procession of Europeans all eager to fall down before those millions
thus auspiciously coupled together. But for these millions, however
lovely might have been the bride, and though in the little world
around him Lim Ho might have been voted a very good sort of fellow,
not a single soul would have so much as dreamed of taking part in this
chorus of hollow compliment. The scandal about Dalima was of much too
recent date. But now that the two millions on the one side had joined
the two millions on the other--now that Lim Ho, the son of Lim Yang
Bing, the all-powerful opium farmer, was the happy man, now the entire
European population was ready to crowd around that highly-favoured
couple and press upon them their heartfelt and sincere congratulations.

Not content with this, Mr. van Gulpendam considered it his duty, after
having shaken hands, to add a few words of affectionate advice. Very
fortunate indeed it was that neither husband nor wife understood the
Dutch language and thus were spared the infliction of the nautical
terms with which the worthy resident so richly interlarded his
discourse, but which he found utterly untranslatable into Malay. It
was a good thing also for the patience of the bystanders, that
Laurentia stood by the side of her dear spouse and exhorted him to
be brief by digging the point of her elbow pretty sharply into his
side. At length the twaddle of the chief functionary came to an end,
and now ensued a scene of handshaking, of cringing and fawning, and
of general cant on both sides, which would have filled any honest
heart with the deepest disgust. But neither Lim Yang Bing nor Lim
Ho failed to notice that neither Theodoor Grenits, nor August van
Beneden, nor Leendert Grashuis, nor Edward van Rheijn had joined
this troop of sycophants. They had taken advantage of the crowd and
confusion to leave the house. Charles van Nerekool had flatly refused
to go at all. He could not overcome the aversion with which Lim Ho
had inspired him; but when he heard a report of the proceedings,
he resolved that, should another such opportunity occur, though the
festivities might be held on a much smaller scale, he would try and
witness so extraordinary a spectacle.

It was well perhaps for our young friends that they left when they
did; for presently the scene became rather uproarious. No sooner
were the greetings exchanged and the congratulations ended, than
the champagne corks began to pop with an energy and frequency which
seemed to rival the bangs of the mertjons outside. Presently the
whole company, Chinamen and Europeans, stood up, holding aloft their
glasses full of sparkling wine, and deafening cheers were raised,
while the Chinese "trauwkoeis" and the clattering cymbals screeched
and clashed, and the militia trumpets brayed, and the serpents and
mertjons banged with a noise as if a town was being bombarded. In
the midst of this unearthly din the bridal pair disappeared; anxious,
probably, to save their ear-drums.

In the evening, the formal banquet took place, to which eighty guests
had been invited. The menu of the feast had been carefully prepared
by a French mâitre d'hôtel, and was excellent; although next day the
wags of Santjoemeh would have it that dishes decidedly peculiar to
the Celestial empire had graced the board, such as "Potage Kiemlo à
la Tartare," "Potage printanier à l'ail," "Croquettes aux oreilles
de rats," "Bouchées d'ailerons de requins," "Consommées de tripang,"
&c. &c.

After dinner, President van Gulpendam rose to propose the toast of the
evening; and to drink the health of the newly married couple. He did
so, if the reports are to be believed, in a speech of extraordinary
brilliancy. It fell to his lot also, afterwards, to propose the health
of the Chinese officers, and, in doing so, he expressed a hope that
the Netherlands might always find in her Chinese subjects as faithful
and useful members of the community as they had hitherto proved
themselves to be. He laid very marked stress upon the word "useful,"
and the close of his speech was greeted with thundering applause.

Lim Yang Bing replied to this toast, and at the conclusion of his
remarks he proposed the health of Mr. and Mrs. van Gulpendam. He
heartily congratulated Santjoemeh on the possession of such excellent
rulers, and for the good of its inhabitants in general, and of the
Chinese community in particular, he expressed the hope that they
might long see that noble pair at the head of the Residence.

It was well that the roof of the mansion was a pretty strong one and
that the foundations of its walls and pillars were firm and deep, or
else some deplorable calamity must have occurred; for the deafening
cheers of the company burst forth with the force of a hurricane; the
soil literally shook under the feet of the assembled guests at the
salvoes of mertjons and of small ordnance without, while the air within
was alive with the popping of corks, which flew from the necks of the
bottles with the regularity of well sustained file-fire. So unbounded
was the enthusiasm with which the eloquent words of the worthy opium
farmer were received. After the banquet came the ball, which was
attended by almost the whole of Santjoemeh. Towards midnight, there
was a display of Chinese fireworks in the grounds, and our pig-tailed
brethren, on that occasion, proved how immeasurably superior is their
skill in pyrotechny compared to anything European artists can aspire
to in that line. Then dancing was resumed with fresh vigour, and the
last couples did not leave the ball-room until the break of day.

"That was a glorious, a most sumptuous feast, babah," said Resident
van Gulpendam a few days later to his friend Lim Yang Bing. "My
eyes! didn't you make the galley smoke!"

"Yes, kandjeng toean," replied the opium farmer, with a smile
of intensely gratified vanity. "Yes; but it has cost me a pretty
little sum of money, why, in champagne alone, I have spent more than
two thousand guilders, and quite another twelve hundred in Rhenish
wine. The fireworks I had direct from Canton, and they have cost me
three thousand at the very least."

As he dwelt upon these details, the man was in the seventh heaven
of delight.








CHAPTER XXXVII.

DISGRACEFUL OPPOSITION. TWO OPIUM COMPANIES BY THE EARS.


Nearly the whole of Santjoemeh had been keeping festival. It was,
indeed, no everyday occurrence for the son of the rich opium farmer
of the district to marry the daughter of an equally wealthy disciple
of Mercury. At the union of so many millions the Dutch public could
not but evince the liveliest interest--and it had done so.

We said: nearly the whole of Santjoemeh; for there were some who
had not thought it incumbent upon them to grace the banquet and
the ball with their presence. Van Beneden, Grashuis, van Rheijn,
and Grenits, had allowed their ethnological curiosity to prevail so
far as to induce them to go and witness the nuptial ceremony; but
nothing could persuade them to attend the subsequent festivities. They
had, on the contrary, determined, while the European population was
crowding within Lim Yang Bing's stately mansion in the Gang Pinggir,
and the natives were swarming all around it, to pass a particularly
quiet evening together at the house of their friend van Nerekool.

When they entered they found the young judge still seated at his
study bending over his work by the light of a reading-lamp.

"Hallo!" cried one, "still at it?"

"Are the courts so very busy just now?" asked another.

"By Jove!" exclaimed a third, "that's what I call zeal for the
service!"

"Ornithologically speaking," laughed van Beneden, "our friend Charles
should be classed with the rara avis. Come, come, old fellow, this
is no time for working! All Santjoemeh is astir--just hear what an
infernal row is going on yonder."

"Yes," remarked Theodoor Grenits, with a scornful laugh, "they are
making noise enough over it."

"My dear friends," replied van Nerekool, "the greater part of the day
I have been very busy indeed; for as Leendert just now observed with
more truth than he himself was aware, at the present moment we have
a great deal of work to get through in the courts; but yet, when you
came in, I was occupied in a very different manner."

"Would it be indiscreet to ask what made our host bend his head so
anxiously over his desk?" asked Theodoor.

"Not at all, I was reading a letter I have just received from William;
that is what made me lay aside my pen."

"From William Verstork?"

"How is he?"

"Is he well?"

"How is he getting on at Atjeh?"

These questions crossed one another, and were uttered, as it were,
in a breath; for the five young men were warmly attached to the
worthy controller.

"Yes," replied van Nerekool, "I am glad to tell you that Verstork is
in perfect health, and that he is getting on uncommonly well in the
military world yonder."

"Well, that's a blessing," remarked van Rheijn, who never liked
soldiers, "I am glad to hear it--I don't at all want to change places
with him."

"And what is his letter about, Charles?" asked van Beneden.

"His letter is a very long one," replied van Nerekool, "much too long
to read to you this evening. The greater part of it, moreover, is
devoted to purely private matters; and contains particulars concerning
the parents of Anna van Gulpendam, which I do not think I have a
right to communicate to you. He tries to cure me of my love for her,
and I have no doubt that his endeavour is exceedingly well meant;
but yet the contents of his letter have made me very melancholy,
as they make the chasm between us appear deeper and more impassible
than it seemed before.

"Where can she be?" he continued after an instant's pause--"If I only
knew that then all would not be lost!"

The four friends looked at one another sadly--that letter had evidently
touched a string which vibrated painfully in van Nerekool's heart.

"Come, Charles," said Grashuis, trying to rouse his friend, "you
must not give way to that melancholy mood. You must try and accept
the inevitable. Moreover, who can tell what the future may bring!"

"But she is gone!" cried Van Nerekool hopelessly, "she has disappeared
without leaving a trace."

A strange smile passed over Edward van Rheijn's lips; but he made no
direct remark.

At length he said: "Baboe Dalima also seems to have mysteriously
disappeared."

Van Nerekool made an impatient gesture as one who would say: 'What
is that to me?'

"I happened lately to be at Kaligaweh," continued van Rheijn, "and I
chanced to meet old Setrosmito there. He tells me that Dalima started
off some time ago for Karang Anjer."

"For Karang Anjer!" exclaimed van Nerekool, "and what--?"

"But from that time to this her family have had no tidings from her,"
continued van Rheijn.

"Have they heard nothing?" asked Charles.

"Not a single word--indeed her parents do not know whether she is
alive or dead."

Van Nerekool's head sunk down despondingly on his breast. "One faint
gleam of hope," he murmured, "and then dark night again!"

For a while no one spoke. At length van Beneden, who wished to lead
his friend's thoughts into a different channel, broke the silence:

"Does Verstork write upon no other subject than this?"

"Oh, yes," replied Charles, who was gradually regaining his
composure. "Let us go into the inner room and I will read you the
most interesting portion of his letter. This is not at all the place
for a comfortable chat."

Thereupon they left the study, which, with its folios and bulky
law-books, did not indeed present a very sociable or cosy appearance.

"Sabieio, chairs and cigars for the gentlemen!" cried van
Nerekool. When all were seated and the fragrant Manillas were lighted,
he continued:

"Gentlemen, what do you say to a glass of beer?"

No very determined opposition being offered to this hospitable
proposal, van Nerekool again called to his servant, "Sabieio, bring
us some iced beer."

Thus all having quenched their thirst in the pleasant and cooling
beverage:

"Now then gentlemen," said Charles, "I will give you the most important
parts of William's letter," and he began to read as follows:

"'Do you recollect that when we sat down to dinner together after
our day's hunting in the Djoerang Pringapoes, I told you of a certain
recipe for pills to counteract opium, and how that I also told you what
success I had already had with this medicine? Grenits, at the time,
was not at all inclined to look favourably upon that communication,
and took a very gloomy view of the prospect which lay before me. The
words he used on that occasion have been continually ringing in my
ears; and to this day I remember them as clearly as when they were
spoken, he said: "Keep that prescription strictly to yourself, and
don't say a word about it to anybody. The Colonial Secretary, who has
but one object in view, and that is to raise the opium revenue as much
as possible, might look upon your remedy as an attack made upon the
golden calf; and missionaries have before this been impeded in their
Gospel work, and men have been expelled from the colonies, and official
functionaries have been suspended or pensioned off for the commission
of much more venial offences than bringing such pills as yours to the
opium smokers." Now, Charles, you know that although with an eye to
the future of the members of my family, who, to some extent, depend
upon me for support, I was, for a few moments, depressed at my friend's
gloomy prognostic; yet I soon rallied, and, after a little reflection,
began to look upon Grenits' words as the outcome of a passing fit of
melancholy induced by our conversation, which had almost exclusively
run on opium horrors and opium scandals. Indeed, Grenits himself
could not have intended to paint the future in colours as dark as his
words seemed to imply; for you remember that when I laughed and said:
"Oh, it is not quite so bad as that, I hope," he replied with a smile,
"Perhaps not; but your pills will not earn you the Netherlands' Lion."

"'Ah, no, Charles! I never aimed at any such distinction. The little
good I have been able to do I have done simply for its own sake and
without the least expectation of any recompense. Such ambition I have
always most willingly left to others; for I know full well that seldom
real merit, sometimes the directly opposite, but always a certain
amount of pliability and want of back-bone, is rewarded by these
outward tokens of official approbation. And the mere thought that
I might so much as be suspected of belonging to those invertebrates
would suffice to paralyse every effort on my part. The shaft which
Theodoor thus shot at random missed its mark; yet neither he nor
I could, at that time, suspect how much sarcasm lay hidden in his
last words or how very much to the point had been his foregoing
counsels. Now pay good heed to what I am about to tell you.

"'I had not been here very long, before I received a document from
the Chief Secretary's office at Batavia. That, in itself, was no very
uncommon occurrence. I have frequently had communications from that
quarter when information was required on certain civil questions,
such as duties and other things of that kind, about which they did
not wish to trouble the Military Governor. But yet, it seemed rather
strange to me that, on this occasion, I did not receive the document
through the Chief of the Military Department. It was a written paper,
yet not a despatch. It looked more like a circular although these
are generally either printed or lithographed. Now listen to what it
contained: "An attempt has been discovered at Batavia to import certain
pills consisting of or mixed with opium, under the pretence that they
are medicinal. The Indian Government has come to the conclusion that
the pills in question must be considered as a preparation of opium,
and it, therefore, forbids the importation of this so-called medicine
except through its own agents, and the sale thereof excepting by the
regularly licensed opium farmers and such apothecaries and chemists
as are specially exempt from the provisions of the Opium Act. You
are hereby requested strictly to enforce the Government's decision
on this subject."

"'This precious document bore the Home Secretary's signature.

"'Here at Oleh-leh I had made attempts with the pills in question
to cure the Chinese opium smokers of their fatal passion, and my
efforts in their behalf had met with marked success. I had further
given a couple of hundred of them to the officers of the garrison
for distribution among such of their men as might need them. These
gentlemen also gave me the most glowing account of the success of
the medicine. The trophy of bedoedans in my study was enriched by
half-a-dozen pipes; and I must confess, Charles, that as often as my
eye happened to fall on those instruments of moral ruin, which are
hanging there harmless on my wall as the visible tokens of victories
obtained, I could not repress a feeling of self-satisfaction. Was I
now to desist? Was I forbidden any longer to attempt the rescue of
the infatuated wretches around me? I could not realise it--I could
not believe it. Surely the Government would not refuse to hold out a
helping hand to the myriads of wretched victims of opium which swarm
all about India! There must be a mistake somewhere. The Government
must have been misinformed and all that was needed was for somebody
to open its eyes to the truth.

"'To put these pills into the hands of the opium farmer for
distribution would be reducing the whole thing to the most utter
absurdity and to ensure failure beforehand.

"'I therefore sat down and drew up a carefully detailed statement
in which I gave the result of my own experience, the evidence of
the missionaries and the favourable opinions also of the officers
mentioned above. I added to my document legally attested declarations
of these gentlemen as to the salutary effects of the medicine.

"'Finally, I ventured to suggest, that, in favour of these pills as a
bona fide medicine, an exception might be made, and that, as prepared
and sent out by the Missionary Society, they might be excluded from
the regulations of the opium law.

"'My dear Charles, what was I about? Oh, yes, as an honest man I had
followed the dictates of my conscience; but it was too simple-minded on
my part to hope that the Government might, in the highest interests
of morality, be induced to forego even the smallest scrap of its
profits. I was a greenhorn indeed to sit down and pen such a document
at a time when money--money--money--is the only question with the
Government and money-scraping seems to be our highest national virtue;
while men resolutely close their eyes to the dirty gutters out of
which it is raked together.

"'Very soon after, indeed by the very next mail, I received a reply to
my proposal. It ran thus: "It is not the intention of the Government
to discuss the proposal contained in your letter of the --th. The
pills in question must have lately found their way into other parts
of the island as well as into Batavia. Ostensibly they are designed
to wean the smokers from the excessive use of opium; but in reality
they only serve to procure that indulgence at a much cheaper rate
for those who, either from want of means or for other reasons,
cannot procure the drug from the legitimate source. While you were
occupying the post of controller in the district of Santjoemeh we
had good reason to suspect that, in your official capacity, you were
not disinclined to evade--we are willing to believe from the best
motives--the Government regulations with regard to the sale of opium;
and that you thus contributed to diminish the public revenue. Your last
letter incontestably proves that you are pursuing the same practices
now. On a public servant who entertains such views of his duty,
the Government cannot look with much favour; and were it not that
I am fully persuaded that you are actuated by the very best motives
in pursuing your present line of conduct, and that your well-known
family relations make me very loth to adopt decided measures, I would
at once propose your dismissal as a man unfit for the public service. I
have directed the Governor carefully to watch your proceedings and to
report immediately to head-quarters the first failure of duty on your
part that may come under his notice. I need hardly tell you that the
State requires from its servants a very different conception of duty
from that of lending a willing ear to every foolish sentiment of morbid
philanthropy; and that, therefore, if you give any further cause for
dissatisfaction you must not reckon upon any consideration whatever."'"

"It is disgraceful!" exclaimed Grenits as soon as van Nerekool
ceased reading. "A noble-hearted fellow like William Verstork to be
so shamefully treated!"

"Oh, that opium, that opium!" continued Grashuis no less indignantly
than his friend, "it seems to taint the very life-blood of our
nation. Has it then come to this that we are to be deprived of every
means of stemming the national evil?"

"Yes, it is indeed disgraceful!" chimed in van Beneden.

"But, my friends," objected van Rheijn, "are you not rather one-sided
in your view of the matter and rather too hasty in forming an
opinion? May there not be some truth in what the Government alleges
and might not these pills, under the pretence of being a cure, only
be another means for extending the illicit traffic in opium?"

"Oh, Edward!" exclaimed van Nerekool, "how can you bring yourself to
suspect William Verstork of illicit traffic?"

"And the Netherland's Missionary Society?" added Grashuis.

"Pardon me, my friends," cried van Rheijn as he passionately jumped
up from his chair. "You misunderstand me entirely, I never meant to
suggest anything of the kind. I am just as much convinced as any of
you can be that both William Verstork and our missionaries are acting
in this matter with the most perfect good faith and honour. I was not
for an instant thinking of them when I spoke. But might not men without
principle and without honour, under cover of these wholesome pills,
introduce others made of pure opium and thus defraud the revenue?"

"Well," said Grenits doubtfully, "such a thing might perhaps come
to pass."

"And is it not then right and proper," continued van Rheijn, "that
the Government should guard against possible fraud? Under cover of
these pills the opium plague might conceivably attain to altogether
extravagant dimensions."

"Without the treasury being one penny the better for it," hastily
interposed Grashuis. "So long as the revenue is kept up they are not
so over squeamish in Government circles about the abuse of opium. Quite
the contrary."

"And then Verstork's proposal to admit only the pills sent out by the
Missionary Society was fair enough," added Grenits. "It would not
be very difficult to protect and encourage the use of the medicine
and at the same time guard against adulteration or fraud. But no,"
he continued, "that is evidently not what the Government wants. Not
one poor scruple must be taken from the dose of poison which is, in
a measure, forced upon the people, and every effort to mitigate the
evil must, in spite of the twaddle and cant at the Hague, be sternly
repressed. My friends, you all recollect our discussions on that
subject. In the face of what we have heard and seen can anyone deny
or doubt that opium lies as a curse upon our poor Indian possessions?"

For a few moments the young men sat silently gazing on the floor
before them. Alas no! that plain fact could not be denied--all were
equally convinced of its truth.

"Yes, that opium!" sighed van Beneden. "Friends, let us change our
ground without, however, quitting our subject. It would be a pity to
do so just now--just now that we five men are assembled here together
in Santjoemeh to protest against opium, while, at the same moment,
yonder, the trumpets are braying and the cannon is roaring in homage
to the millions which that same opium has wrung from the people. At
the present moment the pig-tailed children of the Celestial empire
are gathered together in perfect harmony and concord around their Tao
Peh Kong; but such is not always the case. Circumstances sometimes
arise which kindle the bitterest animosities between these Chinese
brethren. As I was looking through a pile of papers, not very long
ago, I happened to come upon a pretty quarrel which greatly interested
me and gave me a deep insight, from another point of view, into the
vicious circle in which the question of opium farming revolves. We are
now sitting here so cosily and quietly together that I should like to
take advantage of this favourable opportunity to tell you the story. I
must only beg of you that you will pay no heed either to the names,
the places or the dates I may use. I have no right to incriminate the
actors in my tale, some of whom are still living. On the other hand,
my story would lack interest and vividness were I to speak of N or
P and introduce places as X or Y. I shall therefore take the liberty
of introducing fictitious names. I beg you will bear that in mind.

"In the year--let us put it at ten years ago--there existed in the
capital of one of Java's Residences--supposing we say in Santjoemeh--a
mighty opium company, to which we will give the name of Hok Bie. This
company Hok Bie had cast a covetous eye upon the monopoly in a district
adjoining to Santjoemeh, which we will call Bengawan. But this same
district had also attracted the attention of a young Chinaman called
Tio Siong Mo. This young man was very wealthy, although he had not
as many millions at command as had the company Hok Bie.

"It would lead me too far afield," continued van Beneden, "were I
to describe to you all the intrigues and plots which were set on
foot, all the bribery and corruption which took place on both sides,
to get possession of the coveted prize. Suffice it to say that the
antagonists exerted their utmost powers; for Bengawan was a prize
indeed. From the opium farmers' point of view it was the fattest
district in all Java--and so it is now, unless I am much mistaken,
and at present counts the greatest number of opium dens--though I
hardly need add, as a corollary, that it contains the most wretched
and poverty-stricken population in the island.

"At first it seemed as if the company Hok Bie would carry all before
it; for it managed to cast serious doubts upon the solvency and credit
of its adversary's sureties, and if they could be discredited, Tio
Siong Mo would be excluded from the contest altogether.

"Tio Siong Mo, however, held firm, he fought the bribers with their
own weapons; and he found means, somehow or other, to re-establish
the credit of his sureties. How? You will perhaps be able to give a
shrewd guess at that."

"Oh, yes, yes, go on!" cried Grenits, "that is as clear as the sun
at noonday."

"Well then, that dodge having failed, the company Hok Bie began to
look round for other means of attack. First it endeavoured to bribe
Tio Siong Mo's sureties and to induce them to declare themselves
bankrupts; but that did not succeed. Next it made an offer to its
competitor of half a million of guilders in cash if he would retire
from the contest. Half a million! It was a liberal bid, there was no
denying that. But no! Tio Siong Mo did not waver a single instant,
he flatly refused the tempting offer; for the monopoly of Bengawan
was worth a much larger sum of money than that.

"On the day of the sale five competitors came forward; but three of
these very soon dropped out of the bidding, and the representative
of the company Hok Bie and Tio Siong Mo were left to fight out the
matter between them.

"I will not weary you by describing the contest, which was carried
on at one time with what seemed the wildest recklessness and at
another with the most cunning circumspection. There were some very
exciting passages in the battle. At length Hok Bie bid eighty thousand
guilders."

"Eighty thousand?" exclaimed van Rheijn. "Why, that is not a very
large sum."

"A month, a month, my dear fellow!" said van Beneden, correcting him.

"Well, a month, so be it," resumed van Rheijn; "that comes to only
nine hundred and sixty thousand guilders a year. Here in Santjoemeh--!"

"For those days it was an exorbitant price," continued van Beneden,
"I know all about it, and I can assure you it was an extravagantly
high price."

"Well, and what happened then?" asked van Nerekool.

"The representative of Hok Bie had called out eighty thousand,
thinking by that bid to disconcert and crush his opponent, for he
had made a tremendous leap from sixty to eighty."

"The deuce!" cried van Rheijn, "and then?"

"Tio Siong Mo lost not an instant; but with the utmost coolness he
said: 'Another thousand.'

"He spoke these words in a tone of voice which seemed to convey that
he simply intended to add a thousand to whatever bid the other party
might make.

"Hok Bie's representative looked blue; that last bold jump of his
had brought him to the end of his tether--he was not empowered to go
further. The resident who presided encouraged the competitors to go
on. But no one spoke.

"At length was heard the 'third time,' accompanied by the fall of
the hammer, and Tio Siong Mo had secured the monopoly. It was a large
sum to pay merely for the contract; but the young Chinaman laughed in
his sleeve. He knew well enough that in the dessa Bengawan he could
screw double that amount out of it. But, as you will see, he reckoned
without his host. The company Hok Bie was furious at having thus been
worsted, and resolved to have its revenge. At the very first meeting
of the directors four hundred thousand guilders were voted, not only
to ensure Tio Siong Mo's fall, but even to secure him a comfortable
little nook in the State prison. Two of the oldest members of the
board undertook the job."

"By Jove!" cried Grenits, who was thoroughly interested in the
story. As a merchant, such a piece of business was quite in his line,
and he pricked his ears as a young race-horse, impatient for the start,
dilates his quivering nostrils. "By Jove, I am anxious to hear how
they managed that."

"They managed it very simply, indeed," continued van Beneden,
"though it cost them a mint of money. But when it is a question of
gratifying his passions, or of pampering his vanity your Chinaman is
by no means stingy."

"No," said Grenits, "nor yet when it comes to throwing out a sprat
to catch a mackerel."

"Agreed," said van Beneden; "but now let me go on, or else we shall
not get to the end of the story to-night."

"Just so," assented Edward van Rheijn. "Make what haste you can;
for I have also my little opium tale to tell--and something else
besides that."

"Very good! August, drive ahead!" said Grenits.

"There were at that time a couple of opium districts which were
contiguous to Bengawan, and which lay along the Java sea. Upon these
the company Hok Bie at once flung itself, the monopoly not having as
yet been granted for them."

"Yes, of course," remarked van Rheijn, "having lost the rich district
of Bengawan, a couple of rather more meagre ones would form an
agreeable compensation."

"Upon these," continued van Beneden, not heeding his friend's
interruption, "the company Hok Bie greedily flung itself, and for
the opium privilege of those two districts, it paid the sum of 40,000
guilders a month; though it was clear as day that at such a price it
must incur a heavy loss."

"What then could it have been about to offer the money?" asked van
Nerekool.

"The company's object was to get a large strip of the Java sea under
its control."

"Oho!" exclaimed Grenits and van Rheijn in a breath--A light was
beginning to dawn upon them.

"Do you fellows now begin to understand?" asked August with a broad
smile. "That's a good job.

"You must know that the Residence Bengawan is bounded on the north
by these two districts. The consequences of this acquisition soon
began to show themselves. The coast of the Java sea lay open to the
company Hok Bie, and smugglers soon began to ply diligently between
that coast and Singapore. The contraband very soon found its way
through the two districts to the interior, so that presently Bengawan
was literally flooded with smuggled opium. To such an extent was this
contraband trade carried on, that the drug was readily sold for about
one half-penny, a price at which the farmer could not possibly afford
to sell it.

"Then Tio Siong Mo attempted to brazen it out. He began by punctually
meeting his obligations, and every month paid the contract money into
the treasury. He did this, poor fellow, in the hope that the European
authorities would assist him and protect him against this illicit
trade which was robbing the revenue as well as himself. And what were
the effects of all his representations to the Government--'Schwamm
darüber'--Even where he did obtain some kind of co-operation from some
chief official, he got no support whatever from the subordinates. They
all, to a single man, sided with the much more powerful company Hok
Bie, which never left any service unrewarded.

"These punctual payments were all very well so long as Tio Siong Mo
could find the money. But, however well lined his chest might be,
it was with him--as it always must be where much is going out and
little or nothing coming in--a mere question of time.

"In the latter half of the second year of the contract, Tio Siong Mo
was declared a bankrupt. He could not possibly cover his expenses,
and by that time had fallen in arrears and owed a colossal sum to
the treasury, a debt of which little or nothing was ever recovered,
because, at the critical moment, his sureties had absconded to
Singapore. So cleverly did these worthies dispose of their property,
that they left nothing but debts behind them.

"'The Dutch Government wields a sword without mercy,' said the
financial secretary; and that same Government which, by taking proper
measures in its own interest as well as in the interest of their
farmer, might have put a stop to smuggling on anything like a large
scale, but had neglected to do so--that same Government now clapped
poor Tio Siong Mo into prison. There he lingered for several years,
and quite lately he has been released, it being evident that nothing
was to be got out of him. We sometimes say, with regard to horses, that
they who earn the corn do not always get it; and this episode I think
shows that they who are punished are not always the real culprits."

"But what ultimately became of the Bengawan contract after the farmer's
bankruptcy?" asked van Rheijn, curiously.

"Of course," resumed van Beneden, "the district had to be put up again
after Tio Siong Mo's failure. Who were the new farmers the papers do
not tell me; but, from a whining lamentation uttered by the financial
secretary, in which he exhorts the judges to the utmost rigour against
the luckless bankrupt, it appears that the whole thing only produced
forty-one thousand guilders. Thus the State, in addition to the large
sum owing by Tio Siong Mo, lost a clear sum of forty thousand guilders
a month."

"That's the style!" exclaimed Grenits, "I wish such a thing as
that would happen regularly, year by year, in all the districts,
then some means would speedily be found to put an end to the opium
traffic altogether."

"And what became of the two coast districts, which the company Hok
Bie had taken?" asked van Rheijn, very anxious to get to the bottom
of the story.

"What could the company make of them? they could be worked only at a
loss, and, as soon as the object it had in view was obtained, it made
over the contract to some other company--no doubt at considerable
loss. At least Hok Bie would have no more to do with them."

"And the moral of the story is?" asked Leendert Grashuis.

"Why, simply this," said Theodoor Grenits, "that from whatever point
of view you look at the opium-farming system, you are sure to catch
sight of something particularly loathsome and disgusting."

"And that such a rotten system should form one of the principal
sources of the Netherlands' colonial revenue!"

"Yes," assented van Beneden. "In these latter days it has indeed
been raised to that dignity by men in office, into whose hands the
indifference of our Dutch nation has placed unlimited power."








CHAPTER XXXVIII.

FURTHER FACTS ABOUT OPIUM. BIRDS-NESTING AT KARANG BOLLONG.


These were most unpalatable facts for our friends to listen to. But,
however painful they might be, and however offensive to the ear of a
patriotic Dutchman, yet they were facts which could neither be ignored
nor explained away. Very gravely and very sadly the five young men sat
slowly rocking themselves in their chairs and watching the wreaths
of blue smoke as they curled upwards from their manillas. Thus they
passed some time in silent thought, when suddenly, in the distance
were heard fresh volleys of musketry, redoubled banging of mertjons,
and this noise accompanied by loud bursts of cheering repeated again
and again, which, arising within the banqueting hall, was taken up by
the thousands of natives who stood without waiting for the display
of fireworks. That crescendo in the festive din was occasioned no
doubt by Lim Yang Bing's eloquent speech in honour of Resident van
Gulpendam. "Sabieio, fill the glasses!" cried van Nerekool to his
servant, making an effort to shake off the gloomy thoughts which
oppressed him, and which not even van Beneden's story had been able
to dissipate.

For the next few minutes they all sat listening to the disturbance
outside, and when at length the noise had died away, van Rheijn
re-opened the conversation.

"You told us just now, my dear August, that Tio Siong Mo had found
no co-operation or support among the inferior class of officials; but
that these, on the contrary, sided with the more powerful company Hok
Bie. Now I take it for granted that you did not talk merely at random;
but that you had some sufficient grounds for saying what you did. One
thing, however, is not quite clear to me, and that is whether you
meant that accusation to apply to the native opium-officials or to
the Europeans. You will grant me, I suppose, that the accusation is
a rather serious one."

Van Beneden did not raise his eyes, he drew a deep breath. At length
after an interval of a few seconds, he said:

"Yes, you are perfectly right, the charge is undoubtedly a serious
one. As a lawyer I am perfectly aware of that; and you were
quite right also in presuming that I did not utter it without due
consideration. The question you now ask me is this: 'To whom do you
intend this grave censure to apply?' I might answer with perfect
truth, that I apply it to native and European officials alike. But
to be absolutely candid I ought to go further and confess that,
when I spoke, I was aiming specially at the European officers."

"August!" cried van Rheijn, evidently much moved at his friend's
earnestness and sincerity. "May you not be taking too partial and
unfair a view of the situation?"

"My dear fellow," replied van Beneden, "just listen to what I am
about to tell you, and then I will leave you to judge for yourself--

"Among the mass of documents relating to this Tio Siong Mo's business,
I came upon some remarks made by a very highly placed official, a man
perfectly competent to form a correct opinion; and who had, in fact,
been consulted on this very occasion. His remarks run thus:

"'The salaries paid to the officials who are employed in checking the
trade in contraband opium are wholly insufficient; and in the discharge
of their most arduous duties, these public servants receive no support
at all. The consequence of this is, that hardly a single person who
is properly qualified for the work will ever offer his services. In
what manner, then, are those places filled? Why, in the simplest manner
possible. Individuals are appointed quite at random and are then placed
under the orders of some Resident or other. These poor creatures, who,
as a general rule, have no very brilliant antecedents to boast of,
and who know little or nothing of the opium trade, receive a salary
of 150 guilders (£12 10s.) a month, and are stationed at such points
as the smugglers are most likely to resort to. It follows, of course,
from the nature of the case that these stations are far away from any
inhabited spot, generally in the heart of some swamp or in the all but
impenetrable jungle on the north coast of Java. In such localities
there can be no question of a house; and some of these men have to
hire a small bamboo hut at the rate of 25 or 30 guilders a month,
or else they run up a kind of rough shanty at their own expense. They
have no staff whatever--there being no money to provide one--and thus,
on an emergency, they have to apply for help to the chiefs of the
nearest dessas, and that is very much like going to the devil for
confession. Moreover, the Residents compel these people to keep two
horses, which animals they must purchase for themselves, and they have
to pay 10 guilders a month at least for forage for each horse. If now
we take into consideration deductions for widows' and orphans' fund,
then these wretched creatures receive only about 102 guilders a month,
out of which they must find house rent and servants' wages, leaving
them, say 67 guilders to live upon, to find themselves in dress,
and to keep their often numerous families. Now, the question is,
how can such persons manage to live at all in even the most frugal
manner? How do they manage to keep body and soul together? They have
no other resource than to apply to the opium-farmer for assistance,
and in him they always find a most obliging money-lender. The whole
question, then, comes to this: Are not such officers forced by mere
pressure of circumstances to squeeze as much out of their wretched
billet as can be got out of it?'

"And thus, you see, my dear Edward, that all these men either are,
or very soon get to be, under the thumb of the opium-farmers, and
the consequences of such a state of things are, you must grant,
inevitable. By the side of the note I read to you just now, I found
a list--it was a long list--of the names of such individuals as,
either for neglect of duty or for having aided and abetted the
smugglers, had been dismissed the service. There were others who
were mere puppets in the farmers' hands, and who could not venture
on the slightest remonstrance if the farmer himself was implicated
in the smuggling trade. Then there was a third--alas! the list was a
very short one--of officials who undertook to perform their duties
conscientiously, and who, looking upon a smuggler as a smuggler,
whether he happened to be an opium-farmer or not, were determined to
put down the illegal traffic whoever might be engaged in it. I regret,
however, to have to add that those names very quickly disappear from
the scene. The Residents soon found fault with such men--they had no
tact--no management--in fact, some ground of complaint was sure to
be found. And then, of course, the Government does not like to see
the farmers, so long as they pay their contract money regularly into
the treasury, annoyed by opposition of any kind."

"But," exclaimed Grenits, somewhat warmly, "what becomes, at that rate,
of the assertion made over and over in Parliament by the Colonial
Secretary, that the abuse of opium is in every possible way kept in
check? As far as I can make out from your statement, the Government
seems, indirectly of course, actually to protect the smuggling by
the farmers, and these, equally of course, in order to dispose of
their contraband, press the drug by all means, legal or illegal,
upon the helpless population."

"The sum and substance of all I have told you is simply this," said
van Beneden. "No man who has the slightest respect for himself can
or will undertake any office for the suppression of opium smuggling,
and therefore a lower class of people must be employed, and thence,
you see, it becomes possible for the tricks and dodges of such
companies as Hok Bie to succeed."

"By Jove!" cried van Nerekool, "that's another nice little glimpse
into the charming situation which the system of opium-farming
has created. Come! now we are about it, we had better exhaust the
unsavoury subject as far as we can. Did you not say just now, van
Rheijn, that you also had an opium tale to tell?"

"Oh, yes," replied Edward, "and something else besides that."

"Indeed!" said Grashuis; "go on then. I thought I was pretty well
informed; but every moment I am making fresh discoveries."

"Now, gentlemen," said van Nerekool, "are you all furnished with
cigars? Van Rheijn, we are waiting to hear you."

"I have had a letter from Murowski," began van Rheijn.

"From Murowski?" cried one.

"From our Pole?"

"From our doctor?"

"Yes, gentlemen, from our expert at the scientific opium-smoke. Now,
as his letter contains very few, if any, secrets, and that moreover it
is addressed to us in general, I need not follow our host's example;
and I will read it to you in full."

"But, my dear fellow," said Grenits, "it is getting late, nearly nine
o'clock. Is there anything in that letter about butterflies?"

"Oh, yes."

"And about beetles and snakes?"

"Oh yes, certainly."

"Then, I say! heaven help us, those entomologists are so long-winded;
they don't spare you a single claw, not an antenna, not a shard!"

"Oh, you won't find it so bad as all that," laughed van Rheijn;
"just listen."

"'My dear friend, in your last letter you ask me how I pass the
time at Gombong. At first, I must confess, it was tedious work and
everything looked very black. You know, I was rather smitten with
Agatha van Bemmelen, and I have reason to flatter myself that she
used not to shut her little peepers very hard when she happened to
meet me at Santjoemeh. So, when I first came here, my thoughts ran
entirely on her; I detested my new place, and cursed the man who had
played me the scurvy trick of having me transferred. Of entomology
there was no question. Two or three times I went out and tried
to get some specimens, but I failed woefully. Wherever I went, in
whatever direction I took my walks, there was but one picture before
my eyes--the image of my Agatha's sparkling eyes and my Agatha's
rosy cheeks.

"'So utterly lost was I in rapture that the rarest specimens
in butterflies fluttered past my very nose without my so much
as holding out my net. I gave the whole thing up in despair, and
tossed all my apparatus into a corner. But, what to do with oneself
at Gombong? The officers of the garrison were busy enough; but I
had nothing--absolutely nothing--to occupy my time. The climate of
Gombong is a wretched one--most miserably healthy, no chance of ever
getting a patient here! Being a devout Catholic, I sent up a little
prayer every now and then for a good epidemic, or at least some case
worthy of keeping one's interest going--nothing of the kind!'"

"Well now," cried Theodoor, "did you ever hear of such a fellow,
praying for an epidemic! Such a chap as that ought to be put out
of the colony altogether--he is fit only for the new lunatic asylum
at Buitenzorg!"

"Nonsense!" retorted van Rheijn, "does not every one pray for his
daily bread? Does not our friend van Beneden here pray for a good
lawsuit--and that is, perhaps, not much less serious a matter than
an epidemic. But let me go on.

"'Seeing that my prayers were not heard, I sought refuge in
poetry;--perhaps I might say I prayed and wrote verses alternately. I
celebrated my well-beloved in alexandrines, in iambics, in pentameters,
in hexameters, in odes, in lyrics, in sonnets, in stanzas, in German,
in Polish--'"

"That must have sounded well!" interrupted Grashuis.

"'--In Polish, in French, nay, even in Latin!'"

"In Latin!" exclaimed Grenits, with a shout of laughter, "the fellow
must have gone raving mad!"

"Just fancy the poor child receiving an ode from her adorer entitled
'Solis occasus,'--and 'Virgini Agathæ pulcherrimæ Bemmelensi
dedicatus'--I should like to have seen her little phiz," cried van
Beneden.

"Do stop all that nonsense," remonstrated van Rheijn, who nevertheless
was laughing as heartily as the others, and when silence had been
restored, he continued:

"'And Heaven only knows how much paper I might have wasted had not
suddenly the news reached me that my adored Agatha was engaged, and
was, indeed, on the point of being married. Then I crumpled up all my
poetical effusions, and that very evening made a nice little fire of
them. They were of some use in that way in keeping off the mosquitoes
and other such like vermin. I invited all the officers of the garrison
to a jolly good champagne supper; and, after having passed a night
in which I rivalled the Seven Sleepers of holy memory--I arose next
morning a new man--perfectly cured!--'"

"That Pole is a practical fellow," cried Grashuis. "I say, Charlie,
you should take a leaf out of his book!"

"'Thereupon I resumed my insect hunting, and then, for the first time,
it dawned upon me that the hemiptera, the diptera, the hymenoptera,
the lepidoptera, the coleoptera--'"

"I say, I say!" cried Grenits, "might you not skip all these barbarous
words. That a Pole like Murowski makes use of them is excusable
perhaps--he knows no better; but that he should inflict them upon
us!--it is unpardonable."

"Oh, well!" replied van Rheijn, "I have almost done--

"'--The coleoptera, the crustaceans are really our best and truest
friends, and that they would, after all, afford me the most wholesome
recreation. I happened to be in luck's way. Patients there were none,
and, to make assurance doubly sure, a medical officer, and therefore a
colleague of mine, had arrived here in Gombong. He had obtained three
months' leave, and, in this mild and singularly equable climate,
he hoped to find a cure for an incipient liver-complaint. This
gentleman was willing, he was indeed quite eager, to take my place in
any unforeseen emergency, if it were only to break the monotony of
his existence out here. I quickly availed myself of this favourable
opportunity to ask our military chief for eight days' leave to go
on a trip into the Karang Bollong mountains and give myself up to my
passion for entomology.

"'"By all means," said the kind-hearted captain, "by all means, you
go and catch butterflies and snoutbeetles. Only see that in those
wild mountain districts you don't come to grief; and, mind you,
be back again in time."

"'An hour after, I had shouldered my gun, slung on my game-bag; and,
with the tin box for my collection strapped to my back, I was on the
war-path, my servant following with the other necessaries. From Gombong
I marched through the dessas Karang djah, Ringodono and Pringtoetoel,
and there I was in the heart of the mountain country. That journey I
did not make in a single day; but I took my time, and spent two days
in covering the ground.

"'I will not tire you with an account of my insect-hunt, that would,
in fact, be casting pearls before swine.'"

"Upon my word, that is a good one!" exclaimed Grenits, laughing. "Our
Pole is exquisitely polite!"

"Well," laughed van Rheijn, "he is paying you back in your own coin,
you remember what you said about 'barbarous words' just now. But let
me get on.

"'But yet I must tell you that my trip was very successful. I have
every reason to be satisfied; for among many other rare and valuable
specimens, I secured a fine Ulysses and a splendid Priamos. But
what will constitute the real glory of my collection is an Atlas,
a truly magnificent creature, which, with outspread wings, covers
an area of nearly a foot square. I will not however dwell on these
matters. I know you take no interest in them. No, no, I have a subject
to write upon which will prove much more attractive to yourself and
to your friends. Our experiment in opium-smoking has been haunting
me ever since I witnessed it; and I have by no means forgotten the
conversation we held on that occasion. What I then heard and saw has
opened my eyes and my ears, and has made me very attentive whenever the
opium question is mentioned. And, I must say, that I have here been
brought to the very spot where I am able to glean most interesting
information about the use of that drug. In my wanderings through
the Karang Bollong mountains, I have been brought into contact with
the gathering of the far-famed birds' nests. Whether you gentlemen
are acquainted with that source of the Dutch revenue, I know not;
but in order to come to the subject I wish to lay before you, that
is, the abuse of opium and the encouragement the Government gives to
that abuse, I must give you a short account of this most interesting
gathering of birds' nests. You must, for the present at least, take
my word for the truth of every syllable I write--'"

"The deuce we must!" cried Grenits, "he is rather exacting!"

"I bet we shall have a lot of learned stuff inflicted upon us. The
prigs which the German Universities turn out can be pedantic to the
last degree."

"No fear," replied van Rheijn, "for my part I must say that I
have found in this letter, a great number of highly interesting
particulars. But I must get on.

"'The Karang Bollong mountain range is, as you are probably aware,
a spur of the Goenoeng Djampong which again forms the connecting link
between the Midangang mountains and the Goenoeng Batoer. The bulk
of these Karang Bollong mountains consists of extensive chalkbeds
which form the table-land known as Goenoeng Poleng; and, on the
side of the sea, these chalk-beds are surrounded by a broad band of
trachyte rock which rises perpendicularly out of the Indian Ocean. In
this massive wall of trachyte the ocean, with its mighty breakers
rolling in from the South Pole upon Java's coast, has washed numerous
holes or cavities, some of which extend to a considerable distance
underground. It is in the innermost recesses of these caves that men
find the nests of a certain kind of swallow which the natives call
manoek lawet, and to which the Zoologists give the name of hirundo
esculenta.'"

"Didn't I tell you so?" cried Grenits indignantly; "the Pole is
beginning already to bring in his Latin names. Heaven only can tell
what may be in store for us!"

"And what about me, then?" remarked van Rheijn. "I have had to read
the whole letter! You need not trouble yourself, that Latin will come
all right enough. I go on:

"'----give the name of hirundo esculenta. The nests consist of a slimy
substance which is found in the stomach of the birds. These little
swallows cover the spot in the rock they have selected for their nest
with an extremely fine coating of this gelatinous stuff. As soon as
this layer has dried and has had time to harden, they apply a second
coat, which again must have time to dry before they can proceed with
their building. And thus they go on gradually and layer by layer until
the nest is complete. When it is finished it looks like a saucer of
small diameter which has been broken in two with the line of fracture
cemented to the wall of stone. Thus these little nests consist of
a hardened gelatinous mass of a light yellow colour and which, when
they are of superior quality, ought to be somewhat transparent.'"

"And the Chinese eat such trash as that and like it?" cried Grashuis
curling his lip in disgust.

"Do let me go on," said van Rheijn.

"'When soaked in water and properly cooked these nests are looked
upon by the Chinese as the rarest delicacy. A cup of broth made of
that gelatinous substance represents, in their estimation, the most
delicious beverage that can gratify the human palate. They ascribe
to this soup rare medicinal virtues and prize it as a never-failing
aphrodisiac. In my opinion this latter is the only quality which
gives value to the nests.'"

"And this again is the sort of thing out of which the Dutch Government
makes a revenue!" exclaimed Grenits. "It is a very lucky thing that
the ingathering of these nests can only be carried out on a small
scale, or else, no doubt, some means would be found to force this
kind of food upon such Chinese as do not, at present, crave for it;
just as the farmers do their utmost to drive the population into
their infamous opium-dens."

"'The gathering of these nests,'" continued van Rheijn still
reading Murowski's letter, "'takes place three times a year. The
first gathering begins in the latter part of April and is called
"Oedoean kesongo." The second begins in the middle of August and is
called "Oedoean telor," and the third, the "Oedoean kapat," takes
place in December. Now that kind of birdsnesting, my friends, is an
occupation which I very willingly leave to the Javanese who make it
their business. To gain the entrance of one of those caves they must
clamber down the perpendicular face of the rock along ladders. The
ladder, for instance, which leads to the mouth of the Djoembling cave
is only 660 feet long. My heart beat high with desire to make a trip
to these subterranean vaults. But--when I laid myself flat down and
got my head over the edge of the rock while a couple of Javanese were
holding on to my legs--when I saw that rottang ladder swinging hither
and thither in the breeze sometimes clinging to the wall and then again
curving inward and for a while lost to the eye. When, at a giddy depth
below, I saw the huge breakers come tumbling in and forming there
at the foot of the rocks a savage scene, a wild and whirling chaos
of spouting water, of dazzling foam and of blinding spray. When my
ear caught the hoarse thunder of their charge while I felt the very
stone under me quiver with the shock--then, I must confess a feeling
of sickening horror came over me; I started back involuntarily, and
nothing on earth could have induced me to plant my foot on the crazy
ladder which, a few moments ago, I had made up my mind to descend.

"'But how grand, how magnificent, how sublime was the spectacle! The
towering waves which like a stately row of hills came moving along
the intense azure blue of the Indian Ocean--that graceful curve of the
billow as it neared the pumice reefs which lie at the base of the mass
of trachyte--then the thundering fall of this mighty crest toppling
over, as it were, into a sea of seething milk in which every drop,
every foam-speck glittered in the rays of the tropical sun--that
finely divided spray which hung over the watery mass and wrapped
it as in a veil of transparent silver-gauze--all this, my friends,
formed a spectacle which can never be effaced from my memory but
will dwell there engraven as on tables of stone. At times, when a
wave of unusual height came rolling in, the entrance of the caves
would be completely swallowed up and hidden and the water driven into
the interior would continue its perpetual work of excavation. Then,
for a few moments it seemed as if the holes had disappeared. But
presently, when the wave flowed back again, the water, impelled by the
tremendous force of the compressed air within, would rush forth like
a horizontal fountain five or six hundred feet in length, spouting
and hissing and blowing with a roar which was perfectly appalling,
and forming whirls and high-flowing eddies in the retreating wave.

"'No, no, no, I durst not touch that swinging ladder; but I have
nevertheless made up my mind to penetrate by some other means into the
interior of those mysterious cavities. The natives here tell me that
when the south-east trade-wind is far from the south-coast of Java,
on very calm days a flat-bottomed boat may enter the Goewah Temon,
which is the name of one of the grots. The loerah of the dessa Ajo
has promised me to keep a canoe in readiness for me, if I will give
him notice beforehand; and, on the first favourable opportunity I mean
to make the attempt. Meanwhile, however, I have had to satisfy myself
with a description of this birdsnesting which I soon hope to witness in
person, and this is what one of the chiefs has told me concerning it.

"'From the mouth of the caves the Javanese have stretched a couple
of cables along the interior wall. The lower of these rottang-cables
serves as foot-hold, the upper is grasped in one hand, while with the
other hand, the man engaged in the work picks the birds' nests from the
rock. When the hand cannot reach them the man detaches them by means
of a long bamboo pole furnished with an iron hook, and as they fall he
has to catch them in a small hand net. As you may suppose, the taking
of these swallows' nests is an extremely perilous undertaking. First
to clamber down that ladder to an extreme depth along the perpendicular
face of the rock and dangling over that boiling sea, then to penetrate
into these holes into which the ocean thrusts its waves. In rough
weather the work has to be stopped altogether in many of the caves;
and, not unfrequently, it happens that the ropes are washed away and
the poor fellows who trust to them are dashed to pieces or miserably
drowned. You will ask then, perhaps, how can people be found to venture
on so hazardous an undertaking? You know, of course, that no race on
earth is more attached to its native soil than the Javanese. That
characteristic is found in this part of the island also. There is
perhaps no wilder and more ungrateful soil in this world than this
region in the Karang Bollong mountains. Nothing, or next to nothing,
can be made out of agriculture. The tiny rice-fields one meets with
here and there on the mountain slopes, are not worth mentioning;
and, as far as tradition reaches, the scanty population of this part
of Java has always supported itself and does still support itself,
by collecting these edible nests.

"'Whether they fared better or worse before the Dutch government
appropriated that source of income to itself, I have not been able to
ascertain. But one thing is certain, that the pay these poor wretches
receive from the Government is something worse than pitiful. I have
now lying before me a statement drawn up by an official in this part
of the country, from which I gather that, for every sack of 80 nests
delivered into the Government stores, the man who collects them gets a
sum of 15--let us put it down in words--of fifteen cents (about 3d.)!'"

"Aye but," said Grashuis, "before we follow the grumblings of our
Pole any further, it would be well to know what is the commercial
value of those 80 nests."

"As a merchant," remarked Grenits, "I can at once supply you with the
information you require. The Chinese are always ready to give five
thousand guilders for a pikol of nests, and, since one hundred of them
weigh about one kattie and the pikol contains one hundred katties,
our Government receives four hundred guilders, while it sends the
poor devil of a native about his business with 15 cents! By Heaven
it is a crying shame!"

"But has not the Government other expenses to meet?" asked Grashuis.

"Allow me to continue," said van Rheijn, "I promise you an answer to
your question, August."

"All right, drive ahead!"

"'It is true,'" continued van Rheijn, "'that when a man has good luck
he may deliver 12 bags.'"

"That comes to one guilder eighty cents (about 3s.)," cried
Grenits! "and then he must be in luck! God help the poor fellow!"

"Now do not be constantly interrupting me!" cried Edward impatiently.

"'One must be a Javanese to encounter such perils for so miserable a
pittance; for, to realize that magnificent sum, the poor devil must
make several trips to the cave which has been assigned to him. The
shortest gathering always lasts three weeks, and the longest sometimes
goes on for more than two months. Now, how can the native be induced,
for such utterly inadequate pay, to face this perpetual and deadly
risk? I fancy I can see that question hovering on your lips, and
if you will bear with me for a few moments I will tell you. In
the first place the Government has secured the co-operation of the
native chiefs. You know what a dependent race are the Javanese, how
they trust implicitly to their chiefs, and these men are indeed paid
on a much more liberal scale. Where the actual worker receives his
three shillings, the loerah, for instance, is paid twenty guilders
(£1 13s. 4d.), besides a number of perquisites of all kinds, and
he receives this, mind you, merely for superintending the work,
as it is called. Yet it is probable that the respect and obedience
of even a Javanese would not endure such miserably inadequate pay,
and therefore the Government has devised another means of binding
these poor creatures hand and foot, and that means, my dear friends,
is--opium!

"'I will not trouble you with all the superstitious fads which the
Government not only tolerates but pays for in the matter of this
gathering of birds' nests; nor will I speak of the idolatrous worship
of Njahi Ratoe Segoro Kidoel which precedes every expedition, and
which also is paid for out of the public purse. I will merely point
out to you the use which is made of opium, the pernicious effect of
which, when taken in anything like excessive quantities, you have
yourselves been able to observe.

"'Well then, let me tell you that in everything which has any relation
whatever to this gathering of nests the current coin is opium.

"'If the wajang and toppeng-players have to be sent for, five petty
chiefs and four dessa-folk are despatched to fetch them. For this
piece of service each of the former receives one kedawang, and each
of the latter half a kedawang of opium, the kedawang being equivalent
to about two matas. For the cleansing and clearing of the Goewah
Bollong loerahs and other chiefs are specially appointed, the former
receiving each two and the latter one kedawang of opium. The wajang
and toppeng-players receive on their arrival, sixteen kedawangs apiece
and four kedawangs for sadjen or offering, and, on their departure,
they are paid with a further present of sixteen kedawangs of opium.

"'In the Goewah Bollong a feast is always held before the commencement
of the expeditions; and for this feast, a certain number of bullocks
and one goat have to be killed. For the slaughtering of each of these
animals eight kedawangs of opium are paid. For each quarter of the
slaughtered animals which must be brought in and carried by one petty
chief and two dessa men, the chief is paid one, and the men have half
a kedawang of opium apiece. When the ladders are brought to the edge
of the cliff, a ceremony which requires two chiefs and two men, the
former receive one kedawang, and the latter half a kedawang of opium.

"'But I have not finished yet, the abuse of opium goes much further
than that. My friends, I beg you have patience and read on.

"'At the festival itself the following quantities are served out:
to each loerah and each petty chief two kedawangs, and to every
guest one kedawang. I have now lying before me a paper from which
the following words are an extract:

"'"It is impossible to give, with any exactness, the number of persons
present at these customary festivals; but seeing that every guest has
his portion of opium served out to him, it may be taken for granted
that no one who has the slightest right to be present, fails to avail
himself of it. At the opening of every cave eight kedawangs are served
out, and when the ropes are fastened another eight kedawangs are paid."

"'During the ingathering of the nests--but how shall I get through
it all? Let me try to be brief. The loerah of Goewah Jedeh gets 76,
the loerah of Goewah Dahar gets 64, the one at Goewah Mandoe Loro 44,
and the other loerahs receive 40 kedawangs apiece. The toekans of
these caves receive each 54, the bekels 24, and the sekeps each 12
kedawangs of opium.

"'But even this is not all. The dessas in which the ladders are made
are paid in opium, the persons appointed to mount guard over the nests
when they are gathered receive their pay in opium. The transmission
of the produce, the carrying to and fro of orders, the return of the
ladders, the guarding of the caves--everything--everything--is paid
with the same fatal drug. In one word, the entire thing is simply
an opium debauch on a colossal scale; and it is the surest means of
accustoming the people to the use of the deadly narcotic. But--why
should I further dilate upon this matter, my letter is already, I fear,
too long and I have still to communicate to you certain things which
I know will be of the greatest interest to you.'"

"Is there much more of the letter?" asked Grashuis.

"Yes, I have some pages more to read," replied van Rheijn.

"You have given us quite a budget already," remarked van Beneden.

"True; but it is extremely interesting," said Grenits.

"By Jove, those Poles know how to make use of their eyes."

"He has learnt that lesson from the Germans, you know they steal with
their eyes."

"True, witness the Franco-German war in which the Teutons proved that
they knew more about France than the French authorities themselves."

"Don't you think," asked van Rheijn, "we had better get on as fast
as we can? The most interesting part of the letter is yet to come."

These last words he spoke with a strange look at Charles van Nerekool.

"Had we not better have a drink first?" suggested Grenits.

"By Jove, yes!" cried van Rheijn, "my throat is as dry as a rasp."

"Sabieio!" cried van Nerekool, "fill the glasses."

While the servant performed that duty the gentlemen lit a fresh cigar,
rocked themselves for a while in their rocking-chairs and then were
all attention.








CHAPTER XXXIX.

MUROWSKI ON THE TRACK.--AN OPIUM SALE AT SANTJOEMEH.


"Now then," said van Rheijn, "let us proceed.

"'Two days before my leave had expired and that, therefore, I should
have to return to my garrison duties at Gombong, I started very early
in the morning before the break of day from the dessa Ajo in which I
had passed the night. My intention was to explore the Western slopes
of the Goenoeng Poleng, and I expected that this trip would bring a
rich harvest to my collection. And, my friends, I must tell you that
my hopes were amply--very amply--realised. For I secured an Arjuna,
a large and most lovely butterfly with pointed golden-green wings
fringed with a deep velvety band of black. It was a rare specimen I
can assure you, and absolutely perfect and uninjured. The day before,
one of the dessa-people at Ajo had brought me a Cymbium Diadema, a fine
brown shell spotted with white, which the man assured me, he had picked
up on the sands in one of the creeks on the South coast of the island
of Noesa Kambangan. I purchased it from the fellow for a mere song.

"'But enough of this: I return to my subject.

"'As I told you, I had started some time before the break of day and
had got some distance from the dessa Ajo when the dawn began to tinge
the entire mountain range of Karang Bollong. My path was not a very
pleasant one to travel along; for it took me right across all the
ravines which run down from the heights. These are funnel-shaped,
exceedingly tortuous; and twisting and turning in all directions
they run down to the plain at the foot of the range, in which the
Kali Djetis flows onward to the sea.

"'As gradually I mounted higher and higher, the panorama stretched
out at my feet became more and more imposing. The fresh invigorating
morning air and the truly magnificent scenery about me, filled me
with delight; and every now and then I actually forgot my passion
for butterflies wholly absorbed as I was in the glories which lay
around me.

"'At length I gained a ridge between two pretty deep ravines, and I
was stopping for a few moments to regain my breath after the exertion
of climbing the steep ascent up which my path had led me. In both
these ravines little brooks were gurgling. They were mere threads of
water hurrying down the Goenoeng Poleng, and it was refreshing to look
upon them as they frisked and danced and foamed along their strange
zig-zag course. From the eminence on which I then stood, they looked
like ribbons of silver tape unconsciously displaying their beauty to
the morning air. The ravine which I had just left was strewn with
big blocks of trachyte flung about in confusion, great masses of
ruin detached, no doubt, from the central range. Such was the case
also in the other ravine into which I was preparing to descend;
but between the boulders and scanty shrubs, my eye suddenly caught
the attap-roof of a Javanese house. From the place where I stood,
I could catch sight only of the front verandah; but yet that small
hut, situated there in the wild and lonely mountain range and at
some distance from the dessa Ajo, arrested my attention. Can it be
some misanthropist, I thought, who is living there so far away from
the haunts of men? Through an open window, my eye could penetrate one
of the rooms in the hut, and I thought I saw a snow-white bed-curtain
waving to and fro under the influence of the morning breeze; I fancied
also that I could distinguish a chair. Now all this greatly puzzled
me; for your Javanese, as a rule, does not indulge in such luxuries,
and, if he makes use of a curtain at all, he generally selects one
of some gaudily coloured material.'"

Van Rheijn paused for a moment or two to take a drink of beer, and in
doing so he cast a penetrating look upon Charles van Nerekool. The
latter was sitting in his chair listlessly rocking himself up and
down, and had very much the appearance of a man who listens but whose
thoughts are travelling elsewhere.

"You are not listening to me, Charles," he cried! At this abrupt
address van Nerekool started up out of his reverie.

"I?" he asked in confusion.

"Now, you see!" continued van Rheijn with a laugh, "while I am wasting
my breath to get to the end of Murowski's budget, our friend the
judge there is sitting in a brown study, his thoughts wandering heaven
knows where, but certainly nowhere near the dessa Ajo. But wait a bit,
you fellows, mark my words, you will see a change soon. The part most
interesting to him is just coming. Now listen."

Van Nerekool shook his head and smiled incredulously, he puffed hard
at his cigar, sat up straight in his chair and disposed himself to
listen with concentrated attention.

Van Rheijn went on reading:

"'But, while I was thus standing, gazing and pondering, I heard far,
far away beneath my feet, a noise of laughing, giggling and playing--in
fact, the silvery tones of two girls' voices.

"'I stretched out my neck and cautiously peered about to find out,
if possible, from whence those pleasant sounds proceeded; but it
was in vain, I could discover nothing. I noticed, however, that the
foaming brook beneath me took a very sharp turn, and that close
to its side grew a large Wariengien tree, whose massive foliage
defied every inquisitive look; while, at the same time, a pretty
little clump of shrubs shut out the view on either side. Meanwhile,
the tittering and laughing went on, mingled every now and then with
a playful little shriek, accompanied by the sound of plunging and
splashing of water. Then it dawned upon me that yonder in that clear
mountain stream, some girls were amusing themselves with bathing. What
shall I say in excuse of my indiscretion? I suppose the best, in
fact the only excuse I can offer, is that a man is neither a stock
nor a stone. My road, moreover, led straight to the attractive spot;
and thus, without, I fear, giving much thought to what I was doing,
I found myself on the way to emulate Actaeon in his fatal curiosity,
never in the least expecting to spy out a Diana.

"'So I cautiously clambered down the slopes, taking, as you may
suppose, the most particular care not to make the least noise which
might disturb the bathing nymphs. For a little while my path ran down
directly to the Wariengien tree, which overshadowed a considerable
area. If the course of the narrow path had only continued in that
direction a little longer it must have brought me to the very foot of
the tree. But, suddenly, I came upon a large rock, and there the road
ran to the left and seemed to shorten the way by leading straight to
another bend in the creek. Most probably this led to some ford, for
I could see the path on the other side of the brook, running up the
side of the ravine. Now, what was I to do? I ought, like a good boy,
to have followed the path no doubt; but my curiosity was stimulated
by the splashing and laughing, which now seemed much nearer to me
than before. I confess, the temptation was too great, and I left the
path in order to get up to the Wariengien tree. Good luck seemed to
favour me. From the rock which barred the road I could see a gentle
slope thickly overgrown with bushes. In these numberless butterflies
were fluttering about; but, will you believe me? I never so much as
gave them a look or a thought I had left my tin box and my net behind
at the foot of the rock so as to be quite free in my movements. Like
some Dajak or some Alfoer of Papua I stole along from bush to bush.'"

The young men burst out into a loud shout of laughter.

"I can see our Pole," laughed Grenits, "sneaking along like an Alfoer,
in something like Adam's costume, up to the bathers."

"Yes," said van Rheijn, laughing as heartily as the others, "with
only an ewah round his loins.

"But pray let me go on, we are coming to the most interesting and
most important part. Are you listening to me, Charles?"

"I am not losing a single syllable," said the latter, moving somewhat
uneasily in his chair. "Do make haste."

"'--From bush to bush, and I got as near as I possibly could. At
length I found myself standing before a kind of hedge which grew
around the Wariengien, and made it impossible for me to advance any
further. The magnificent wild-fig tree stood on the edge of an oval
water-basin, which might have been washed out by the power of the
stream, or might have been hewn by the hand of man out of the mass of
gray trachyte rock. The pool itself appeared to be about 25 yards long,
and perhaps 15 yards broad, and the heavy crown of the Wariengien cast
a pleasant shadow right over it. It was fed from the brook of which,
in fact, it formed a part, and the water, though deep, was so bright
and clear that even the smallest pebbles could be seen distinctly at
the bottom. These details, you must know, have only lately occurred
to me; at that moment I had no time to pay any particular attention
to them, something very different was engrossing my thoughts. For,
in the centre of the pool, of which from my position I could survey
about twenty feet, were swimming and splashing and frisking about two
female forms. How shall I describe to you what I saw and what I felt
without too painfully affecting one of your friends.'"

Here Edward stole another glance at his friend van Nerekool.

"Go on, go on!" cried the latter almost passionately as he caught
the look.

"'Two female forms. Both had on the usual bathing dress of Javanese
women, that is the sarong. You know how prettily, and how modestly too,
the Indian beauties can coquet with that rather scanty garment--how
they draw it up and fasten it above the bosom; and, I presume, you
can imagine how such a garment, when wet through and closely clinging
to the limbs, rather serves to heighten than to veil the charms it
is intended to conceal. That, however, I will leave to your fertile
imaginations. Both girls were extremely beautiful, though each had her
own style of beauty. One of them was decidedly a Javanese, the nose
slightly turned up, the round cheeks and somewhat full lips, in fact
the entire face, bore unmistakably the stamp of her nationality. For a
few moments she stood still in a somewhat shallow part of the pool, and
busied herself in readjusting her sarong, which had got rather loose
in swimming. As she did so I could at once perceive that the young
woman I had before me was in what is called an interesting condition.'"

Once again van Rheijn paused for an instant and shot a quick glance
at van Nerekool.

The latter sat in his chair literally panting with excitement, and
taking in every word with the most eager attention.

"Go on! Go on!" he murmured.

"'The other was altogether of much slimmer build. Her bust, which the
wet sarong could hardly conceal, showed that it had been in contact
with the European corset, and her features proclaimed her of totally
different race from her companion. Had the skin not been brown I should
at once have pronounced her to be a European, especially as her hair,
though jet-black, was silky, and fell around her as a mantle, and,
while she was swimming, floated on the water behind in a mass of wavy
curls. Then, I thought, I could trace something of Arabian origin in
the fair creature I saw moving in the crystal stream. Arabian! why
that could not be; for at the very same moment I thought I recognised
her very features.

"'My friends, I am utterly unable to describe to you the lovely scene
I was just then gazing upon. No pen is eloquent enough for that. It
would need the brush of some great artist to catch the glow and colour
of that entrancing view.

"'Quite unconscious that, in that lonely pool far away from any human
dwelling, and in the recesses of such a wilderness, any indiscreet eye
was watching them--the two girls, like real water nymphs, were gaily
disporting themselves. They pursued one another, trying to duck each
other in the stream, while they had the greatest trouble to prevent
their sarongs from getting loose and falling down. That game lasted
a considerable time, it seemed as if the pretty creatures could not
make up their mind to leave the cool refreshing stream. At length the
slimmer of the two girls said: "Come, baboe, it is time to go home."'"

"Ha, ha, it was Malay they were speaking and not Javanese at
all!" remarked Grashuis.

"No, no," replied Edward, glancing uneasily at van Nerekool, "it was
not Javanese; but let me read on, we are now coming to the dénouement.

"'The fair swimmer got to the side of the pool and sat down on
the rocky bank allowing her little feet to paddle in the water. She
presently began to wring out her mass of hair and, as she was sitting
with her face turned away from me, from the position I occupied I
could only catch a glimpse of part of her back as she lifted up her
arms to tie up her hair. Was it the light in my eyes? Was it all
a mere delusion? Did my eyes play me false altogether? I began to
think that her back was not nearly so dark as her face, her neck and
her hands. Puzzled beyond measure I was determined to get a better
view. I grasped a branch of one of the shrubs which were around me,
I hoisted myself up and bent forward as far as I could! Alas!--no,
rather let me say thank God!--in making that movement I slipped. A
big lump of stone, dislodged, no doubt, by the motion of my feet,
went rolling down the slope and fell down plump into the water to the
right of and close beside the fair bather. It was just by the merest
chance that I did not tumble in myself, what a fright the poor little
dear would have been in! It was bad enough as it was. At the splash
made by the stone the girl uttered a cry of terror, she suddenly
moved to the left and started to fly. In doing so her sarong must
have hitched in some projecting stone, and--

"'By all the gods, she was a pure-bred European! Face, arms,
hands, neck, shoulders, all were brown; but for the rest she was
lily-white--that beautiful creamy white which is so characteristic
of brunettes.

"'Then it all became clear to me--Miss van Gulpendam--she who had
so mysteriously disappeared--that face with which I felt all along I
was familiar--Oh, there was no possibility of a mistake, I knew her
well enough now in spite of the dark colouring of her skin. Though
the girls could not see me behind my thick hedge, yet they were much
startled and frightened. They at once snatched up their clothes and
fled up the path which leads to the hut I had seen on the ridge, and
as they ran I could overhear the Javanese saying to her companion:
"Don't be alarmed, Nana, there is no person there." Probably she meant
to say that the stone was loosened by the movement of some animal or
perhaps she ascribed it to mere chance. In spite, however, of this,
both of them hurried out of sight as fast as they could, and soon
the sheltering roof of their little hut received them.

"'It was then only that I began to feel how unpardonable had been
my indiscretion and, to spare the young ladies' feelings as much as
I could, I remained for a long time concealed. When I thought they
must have given up looking out, I sneaked as quietly as possible,
under cover of the bushes, to the bottom of the ravine, and there
a bend in the path soon enabled me to get away unperceived. Such,
my friends, is my adventure in the Karang Bollong mountains. I
have sent you this news as soon as possible for I know how happy
my communication will make one of you. I will not venture to give
you any counsel as to what you ought to do under the circumstances;
but I place myself entirely at your disposal and shall at any time
be ready to point out the little hut to you.'"

"Anna!--Anna found!" exclaimed van Nerekool, jumping up out of his
chair and striding impatiently up and down the inner gallery.

"What do you intend to do?" asked van Beneden.

"What I intend to do? Why, to-morrow morning at daybreak I am off--I
will--!"

"My dear fellow," said Grashuis, restraining, as well as he could, his
friend's impatience and excitement, "now, pray, do not be in a hurry."

"How can you talk such nonsense!" cried van Nerekool--"Do not be in
a hurry!--And what if meanwhile she should again disappear?"

"I do not think," remarked van Rheijn, "that there is much danger
of that. I suppose the girls have by this time got over their
fright--indeed there was not much to terrify them--and as they have
probably not seen any one since of whom they can have the least
suspicion, they will come to the conclusion that they were scared by
a false alarm. I do not think they will for a moment think of leaving
that lonely spot."

"My dear friends," said van Beneden, "I believe the very best thing
we can do at present is to go to bed. It is now late, and we ought
to have time to think this matter over. At all events, Charles must
certainly not think of starting to-morrow morning; by doing so he
would spoil his whole career. A man in his position must not run away
from his post as a deserter."

"Yes," said Charles, "you fellows had better go to bed. I shall sit
down at once and write for leave of absence."

"That's right," quoth Theodoor Grenits. "In that case we shall have
a few days for quiet reflection. And now, Charles, my boy, I have
no need to ask for leave, I intend to go with you on your journey;
here's my hand upon it!"

The young men hereupon shook hands and each went to his own lodging,
while, in the distance, the sounds of revelry at the Chinaman's house
were still resounding.

Van Nerekool applied for leave of absence; but found that it took some
time to obtain it. Mr. Greveland was just at that time so very busy
that he could not undertake to grant Charles' request, however eagerly
this latter might press for it. The President, however, forwarded van
Nerekool's application to the authorities at Batavia. Thus Charles was
forced for some days to wait with such patience as he could command.

Meanwhile, however, events were taking place which exercise some
influence on the course of our story and which we will now proceed
to narrate.

Not long after the nuptials between Lim Ho and pretty and wealthy
Ngow Ming Nio had been solemnized, the great day came round on
which the opium monopoly for the years 18--, 18--, and 18-- had to be
assigned. This was a most important event for the whole official world,
and one which, in the well known financial position of matters at home,
was especially significant to those who were in authority at Batavia
and Santjoemeh. For, if the Colonial Secretary could but show a goodly
number of millions as the produce of the sale of opium-contracts, why
then he and his colleagues might feel themselves pretty safe in their
seats. They thought, and not without excellent reason, that if they
could but manage to increase the revenue they would, by that means,
gain infinite credit in the Parliament at home. It need hardly be
said therefore that every nerve was strained to obtain so desirable
a result.

Resident van Gulpendam had, as our readers know, another, that is
a private, reason for making every exertion; and he left no stone
unturned to induce as many as he possibly could to come and bid for
the lucrative contract. His agents were out on all sides trying to get
the rival companies to enter into competition, and in these efforts
his handsome wife was of the greatest assistance to him. The proud
woman had set her heart and soul upon seeing her husband's breast
adorned with the "bertes knabbeldat."

Now that the existing contracts were fast running out, and that by the
last day of December, the opium-monopolies for the different districts
had to be again put up to the highest bidder, the greatest activity
prevailed. The strictest precautions against smuggling were taken
along the entire coast-line--against such smuggling, be it understood,
as was not carried on by the farmers themselves. Bandoelans and
policemen were everywhere on the alert, and were left to do pretty
much as they pleased in their visitations of suspected houses, or
in their search for opium on the persons of the unhappy creatures to
whom they might owe a grudge. Especially did those suffer from their
insolence, who either did not make use of opium at all, or who used
it in strict moderation. The success which these stringent measures
obtained was rapid and complete. The sale of opium by the farmers
rose in an extraordinary manner now that contraband wares could no
longer be obtained, and the retail price of the pernicious drug rose
in proportion.

"If we could only have that kind of thing always going on!" cried
Lim Ho who, when the conversation turned upon opium, could not always
keep a discreet tongue in his head. But Lim Yang Bing, who was older
and wiser, and who, above all things, feared competition at the coming
sales, merely shrugged his shoulders. He would have been glad enough to
say nothing about this sudden increase in his daily receipts; but, with
so many opium-dens under his control, secrecy was well-nigh impossible.

But Resident van Gulpendam did more than this. He, through his agents,
cleverly spread the report that the Government intended largely to
increase the number of opium-licenses in his Residence. This had its
effect also, and presently a feverish excitement began to show itself
in the rival Chinese camps.

On the important day of the sale, a brand-new flag of extraordinary
dimensions, the finest and brightest that could be found, was
waving in the morning breeze from the flag-staff in front of the
residential mansion. On that day the whole body of oppassers had been
mustered. They numbered over twenty men, all dressed in new uniforms
with bright yellow belts furbished up as smartly as possible. The
native soldiers also on sentry were in full-dress, and they marched up
and down before the steps of the Residence with a solemnity and gravity
of demeanour, which plainly showed that they were impressed with a
full consciousness of the responsibilities which rested upon them.

To add to the brilliancy of the display, Resident van Gulpendam had
summoned to Santjoemeh a couple of assistant residents and a couple of
controllers from the adjoining districts. These gentlemen, together
with all the native chiefs then present in the capital, assembled
towards ten o'clock in the front gallery. All were, of course, in
full official dress with sprigs of orange and oak-leaves embroidered
in silver on their collars. The orange, an emblem of purity; the oak,
the type of manly vigour and independence. They had on white cashmere
trousers with a broad gold stripe, and the regulation dress-sword by
their sides.

Presently the Chinese contingent also began to arrive, all dressed in
clean white jackets and black trousers monstrously wide in the legs,
their heads carefully shaven and polished, while the long scalp-lock
which forms the tail was treated with the greatest care, plaited
skilfully and with almost mathematical exactness, and interwoven with
red, blue, and white silk cord.

At first only a few idlers appeared strolling in merely out of
curiosity to have a look at the proceedings. These were succeeded by
other more wealthy men, the representatives of the various companies,
who might be expected to enter into the competition. Last of all Lim
Yang Bing and his son Lim Ho drove up and, as they stepped out of their
carriage, they carefully scrutinized their countrymen present. For
some time the Celestials mingled with the official personages, and
formed a group in which salutations and hand-shakings bore witness to
the cordiality existing between them. But when the soldier on guard
struck one blow upon the gong which stood beside his sentry-box,
and thus announced that it was half-past ten, Resident van Gulpendam
accompanied by his private secretary--both in full-dress--entered the
front gallery, while Mrs. van Gulpendam, on the arm of van Rheijn,
appeared at one of the open doors.

The chiefs present all made a low bow, the sentries presented arms,
the oppassers formed a line by the pajoeng stand, in which a gorgeous
emblem of dignity was conspicuous.

The officials present now advanced in a body to pay their homage to
the representative of the Governor-General who, in his turn, represents
the King of the Netherlands in these far-away Asiatic regions.

Next, the Chinamen came forward to perform a similar duty, and after
this the two groups of Europeans and Chinamen remained apart. A few of
the latter, foremost among them Lim Yang Bing and Lim Ho, walked up to
Laurentia, and gave her a courteous greeting. She was all affability
and cordially shook hands with the pair as well as with some others,
who were standing near; and then she invited all the babahs to come
in and have something to drink.

"It is so frightfully hot just now in Santjoemeh!" she protested.

A faint smile passed over the Chinamen's wan and yellow features; they
bowed their thanks as they cast significant looks at one another. Then
they followed their fair guide through the inner gallery into the
pandoppo. A large table stood there bearing a number of trays full
of champagne glasses, while, under the table, might be seen little
tubs of ice, in which the bottles with their silvered corks were
neatly arranged.

"Open the champagne!" cried Laurentia to three or four attendants
who stood by.

The corks popped, and in a few moments all the babahs, rich and poor,
were standing glass in hand eager to be allowed the honour of touching
glasses with the Njonja-Resident.

As a rule, your Chinaman is a great stickler for etiquette; and, on
any ordinary occasion, they would no doubt have sipped their wine
leisurely, with half-closed eyes as they have seen Europeans do;
but now they behaved in a widely different manner. For fair Laurentia
had informed them that, when they had the honour of drinking with a
njonja, the glass must be emptied at a single draught.

"The gentlemen call that ad fundum," remarked the Chinese major.

"Just so, babah," replied Laurentia as she gave him a sly nudge.

In an instant every cup was drained.

"Fill the glasses!" she cried; and from that moment Mrs. van Gulpendam
kept the waiters busy. On one pretext or another, she took care that
the glasses were kept filled and that their contents were duly and
speedily disposed of.

Meanwhile the Resident himself had been engaged in conversation with
his friends and subordinates in the front gallery.

"What has become of our babahs?" he asked presently. "Come, gentlemen,
I do not think we shall have cause to repent if we go and look them
up. It is frightfully hot here. Don't you think so?"

Thus saying and wiping the perspiration from his brow with his cambric
handkerchief, he led the way into the interior of the house followed
by his embroidered and lace-covered staff.

"Ah, I thought as much!" he cried, as he entered the pandoppo, and
then to the servants: "Look sharp, give the gentlemen glasses."

As this was going on, Laurentia slipped away unobserved leaving the
lords of the creation to enjoy themselves in their own fashion.

The Resident whispered a few words to Kwee Siong Liem, one of the
wealthiest Chinamen in Santjoemeh, and this latter, during the brief
conversation, strove to cast furtive glances at Lim Yang Bing.

"I shall go as high as I possibly can, kandjeng toean," said the babah;
"but I fear--"

"You need not be afraid," whispered van Gulpendam.

"Aye, but, kandjeng toean, the bidding will run up too high!"

"Don't forget, babah, that there are eight additional licenses
specified in the contract."

"That's all very well, kandjeng toean; but--"

However, the kandjeng toean did not stay to listen to the Chinaman's
objection. He stepped forward, took off his cocked hat, raised the
glass which a servant had put into his hand and said:

"Here's success to the sale!" The sentiment drew forth cheers from
the assembled Celestials on whom the generous wine of Veuve Clicquot
was beginning to have an exhilarating effect.

"To the health of the kandjeng toean!" cried the assistant resident
of police.

"To the health of the Chinese major!" shouted another and so it went
on. To all these toasts ample justice was done. The little slanting
eyes of the Celestials were really beginning to twinkle right merrily.

At length the clock struck eleven and the clear metallic sound rang
quivering through the apartment.

"Now, gentlemen!" cried the Resident, "to business! But first allow
me to inform those present here who may not happen to be successful in
this competition, that in a few days the monopoly for the district of
Bengawan will be put up to auction; and that, a couple of days after
that again, another valuable contract will be offered for sale. You
see, therefore, that there are rich, very rich profits awaiting many
of you."

After having thus spoken, the Resident led the way into the inner
gallery followed by the entire company. In this room stood a large
table with a white marble top on which were scattered about a number of
official papers and documents. At the head of this table van Gulpendam
took up his position surrounded by his staff; and opposite him stood
the crowd of Chinamen, the table separating the two groups from one
another. On the wall of the room hung a very fine picture, a life-size,
half-length portrait of King William III., and this picture formed
the centre, as it were, of the two groups of Europeans and Asiatics.

"The secretary will now proceed to read out the conditions of the
opium contract which we are about to dispose of," said the Resident
very solemnly.

The official thus alluded to began at once, in the usual monotonous
and almost unintelligible drone, to mumble a series of articles
which he seemed to have by heart. Indeed, the whole thing was
a mere formality. Those who had come prepared to bid for this
Government contract were perfectly familiar with every word that paper
contained. At the preamble, "In the name of the King," every head bowed
deeply. One article, in which mention was made of the fact that the new
opium farmer would have the privilege of opening a number of stores
in addition to those specified in the former contract, the secretary
took care to read out with an amount of distinctness and emphasis
which could not fail to arrest the attention of all interested parties.

When this formality was ended, the Resident said: "The sum bid for
the former contract which is now about to expire was twelve hundred
and thirty-two thousand guilders-- Who will make a higher bid?"

"Twelve hundred and thirty five!" cried a voice.

"Twelve hundred and forty thousand!" said another.

"Twelve hundred and fifty!" was heard in a corner.

"Twelve hundred and sixty!"

There was a pause of a few seconds.

"Twelve hundred and sixty is offered," quietly repeated van Gulpendam.

"Thirteen hundred thousand!" exclaimed Kwee Siong Liem who stood at
one side of the table.

Lim Yang Bing had not yet spoken a word; but now he looked up, gave
one inquiring look at his rival and cried:

"Fourteen hundred thousand!"

"Fifteen!"

The real battle had begun.

"Sixteen hundred thousand!" was the opium farmer's ready reply.

Once again a short pause ensued.

"It is hot to-day!" whispered a voice.

The Resident cast a look at one of his oppassers and the man
immediately left the room. A few instants later three or four servants
hurried in bearing trays full of glasses in which the deliciously
iced champagne was foaming and glittering. The Chinamen eagerly took
them--it was so very very hot!

"Sixteen hundred thousand guilders is offered!" cried Mr. van
Gulpendam.

At that moment Lim Yang Bing's opponent seized upon two of the glasses
and, in his feverish excitement, he gulped down their contents.

"Sixteen hundred and twenty-five!" he cried.

"Seventeen hundred thousand!" retorted the opium farmer with great
composure.

Another pause, which was broken only by the heavy breathing of the
excited crowd and the clinking of the glasses, which under the able
superintendence of Laurentia, who stood behind a side-door watching
the scene, were continually being replenished by the waiters.

"Seventeen hundred thousand!" repeated the Resident.

"Seventeen hundred and twenty!" cried Lim Yang Bing's rival.

"Eighteen hundred thousand!" answered the farmer.

Another glass of the seductive beverage was required before a higher
bid was made.

"Eighteen hundred and twenty thousand!" at length gasped Kwee Siong
Liem huskily, as if he were losing his voice altogether.

"Nineteen hundred thousand!" cried Lim Yang Bing.

His rival was beginning to waver, yet he mustered up courage to mutter
in an almost inaudible whisper:

"Nineteen hundred and twenty-five thousand!"

"Two millions!" exclaimed Lim Yang Bing triumphantly.

A dead silence ensued. After that knock-down blow one might have heard
a pin drop. It was evident that the opposition was crushed. Perhaps
Kwee Siong Liem might have made another attempt; but the members of
his company pulled him forcibly back and prevented him from rashly
uttering another word.

"Two millions are bid," said the Resident. "Allow me once again to
draw the attention of the company to the fact that several additional
licenses will be granted."

But it was of no avail. The servants--poor fellows--kept rushing about
filling up the glasses; but the wine seemed to have lost its power.

"Two millions once!

"Two millions--twice. Will anyone bid higher? Two millions--for the
third time!"

Bang! down came the hammer.

"Subject to the approval of the Dutch Government," said the Resident
impressively, "I declare this opium contract to be assigned to Lim
Yang Bing!"

At these words all the officials crowded round their chief to wish
him joy on his brilliant success; while most of the Chinamen pressed
around Lim Yang Bing to congratulate him and shake hands with him.

Laurentia took care that another round of champagne should set the
seal on the bargain. There was, of course, a great deal of excitement
for some time, and much enthusiasm was displayed; but whether any
one present bestowed even a passing thought upon the poor unhappy
dessa-people, out of whose scanty means and enfeebled frames this
enormous sum was to be wrung--that we cannot undertake to affirm.

Yes, there was one man who did think of them; and that man was
van Rheijn.

He looked sadly up at the portrait of the king as he asked himself
whether it could really be his royal will that such things should go
on among his subjects. Alas, the dumb canvas could not answer, and
the picture of the sovereign gazed down quietly upon the noisy crowd.

Scarcely had the Resident got rid of his visitors before he rushed
into his study, and soon returned with beaming countenance, bearing
in his hand two telegrams, each couched in precisely similar terms.

"Result of opium-sale at Santjoemeh--two millions. Van Gulpendam."

One dispatch was destined for Batavia, the other was for the Hague.

When the oppasser whom he sent to the telegraph office had disappeared,
van Gulpendam looked around him with the utmost satisfaction and
complacency. As his eye fell upon the Dutch flag, which spread its
gay colours to the breeze, he fancied that those folds pointed to
the North-West--towards home.

"Aye," he muttered to himself, "from that quarter my reward must come."

Turning round as he said these words, he saw Laurentia standing at
his elbow. He gave her one penetrating look:

"You here yet?" asked he.

But without replying, she grasped his arm, drew him with gentle
violence into the inner room, and there, when safe from every prying
look, she clasped him in her strong white arms to her breast.

"Gulpie!" she cried, "Gulpie, my darling! you have surpassed yourself!"

"Yes," said he, with assumed modesty, "yes, I have piloted that
frigate pretty cleverly, though I say so myself. Now, I hope they
will not be ungrateful at the Hague!"








CHAPTER XL.

THE "VIRTUS NOBILITAT." ANNA AND DALIMA. A TELEGRAM.


Oh no, the people at the Hague were not at all ungrateful. Eight
days had not elapsed before the telegraph had flashed across the
ocean the news, that it had been the pleasure of H. M. the king
to confer upon his trusty servant van Gulpendam the order of the
Netherlands' Lion. By the next mail the particulars arrived in Java,
and it then became known that immediately after the receipt of the
telegram announcing the result of the opium-sale at Santjoemeh,
a special council of Ministers was called. At this meeting the
Colonial Secretary, elated to the verge of excitement, had drawn
special attention to the conspicuous merit of Resident van Gulpendam,
and had dwelt upon the great financial advantages which would accrue
to the State if all the other residents were encouraged to emulate his
example. He reminded his colleagues that the revenue derived from the
coffee-culture was fast dwindling away and threatened soon to become
a thing of the past; and that, therefore, opium was in the future to
be looked upon as the chief means for keeping afloat the ship of the
State. That it was for this reason a matter of the utmost importance
to strive and raise the revenues, derived from that source, by all
possible means, as indeed he had always shown himself zealous to do
from the day that the king had entrusted the affairs of the colonies
to his hands. Knowing perfectly well that he had nothing new to say,
yet the minister purposely left something unsaid. He took care not to
tell his colleagues, and the nation, that, with anything like judicious
management, the coffee culture would have continued as profitable as
ever it was; but that, by gross neglect and swindling on the part of
the officials who had the management of it, that source of revenue
had been well-nigh destroyed. He further omitted to let them know,
that the culture of coffee was a means of spreading prosperity and
contentment among the native population; whereas the encouragement
of opium was a public disgrace and a national curse.

Upon these subjects the Colonial Secretary did not touch; and thus
his colleagues unanimously applauded his speech and supported his
application for the Netherlands' Lion, an application to which,
being a constitutional monarch, King William III. could not refuse
his sanction.

Some few there were, no doubt, who shook their heads dubiously as
the news of this honourable distinction reached Santjoemeh. But yet,
when the newspapers, in their boldest type, conveyed to the people the
happy tidings, almost all Santjoemeh was beside itself for joy. Cards,
letters, telegrams of congratulation came pouring in on all sides,
not only from Java; but also from friends in Holland.

The van Gulpendams received visits innumerable, and even those who did
not join in the universal chorus of rapture, yet found it difficult
to refrain from giving some outward show of satisfaction. Such want
of courtesy might very easily have been ascribed to envy.

But these were not the only demonstrations of the public joy. Fêtes,
dinner parties, balls were given to celebrate the memorable event. The
Regent of Santjoemeh led the way by giving a splendid banquet in honour
of the newly made knight; and his example was speedily followed by
the Government officials, by the members of the Club "Concordia,"
by the Chinese major, &c. &c.

As a grand final to this round of festivities, a state ball was given
at the Residence, at which, it is needless to say, that all Santjoemeh
was expected to be present, as indeed it was.

On these festive occasions, toasts were drunk, speeches were made,
congratulatory odes were recited--and all this to glorify the man whose
breast was now decorated with the "virtus nobilitat." Fair Laurentia,
with that fine tact, which, in woman, is almost an instinct, had
tried to persuade her husband to appear in public with the very
tiniest cross suspended from the narrowest possible bit of blue
and orange ribbon. This would undoubtedly have been in good taste;
but the Resident would have none of it. He sent at once to Batavia
for a cross about as big as an ordinary saucer, and he suspended it
from a ribbon of proportionate width. "When you do hang out a flag,"
said he to his wife, "men must be able to see it a mile off and
you must let it blow out bravely." That was his view of the matter,
and no argument had been of any avail against this nautical aphorism.

To tell the truth, the man was mighty proud of himself and hugely
enjoyed all the fuss that was made about him. His satisfaction would
indeed have been perfect, had not certain uneasy rumours begun to
spread among the public. It was whispered, that among the native
population, the feeling of contentment of which the Resident was
constantly making mention in his despatches, was not by any means so
perfect as he tried to represent it. Rumours were abroad of secret
gatherings and even of conspiracies far more alarming than the casual
assembling of robber bands. It was a curious thing that a certain
paper in Batavia, alluding to these secret risings in the residence
of Santjoemeh, said that a Holy War was in preparation, and gave
this information on trustworthy authority. This paper, which had thus
ventured to disturb the serenity of the authorities, was treated in the
most summary manner, its plant was confiscated, its offices closed,
its editor banished; all this to prove, of course, that there was no
disturbance whatever, but that the press only was dangerous.

But yet, some very plain hints were conveyed to Resident van Gulpendam
that it would be well for him to do his utmost to prove that the
situation was really as satisfactory as he represented it to be,
and that the unpleasant rumours were nothing more than idle gossip.

Accordingly, van Gulpendam had, during the festive week, made some
excursions into the parts which were said to be disaffected; but he
had found the most profound quiet everywhere. At the suggestion of the
European officials, the native chiefs had not failed to wait on the
kandjeng toean to offer him their very sincere congratulations on the
distinction with which it had been the king's pleasure to honour him.

Nothing could be better. Van Gulpendam was in the highest possible
spirits, he had a kind word for all, he courteously acknowledged every
profession of good will, whether it came from European or native;
and exhorted every one to continue in these pleasant paths of peace.

But yet, amidst all this chorus of jubilation, one jarring note was
heard. It came from a well-known European settler, who owned a large
sugar-plantation and factory, situated on the extreme limits of the
residence of Santjoemeh. This gentleman was most positive in his
assertion, that clandestine meetings and assemblies were, now and
then, held in a wood close by his property. He had his information
from sources which, he thought, were absolutely trustworthy; and
he further declared that he was acquainted even with the names of
a couple of the ringleaders. He could not help looking upon these
secret meetings as suspicious, even though perhaps they might not be
immediately dangerous.

"And may I beg you to tell me what are those names?" said Mr. van
Gulpendam sarcastically.

"I know only two of them," was the reply; "they must be father and
son, for they are Pak Ardjan and Ardjan; the latter, I am told, is
a bold and determined fellow, and both seem to belong to the dessa
Kaligaweh in the district of Banjoe Pahit."

At the mention of these names, the Resident felt that he turned
pale. He pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from
his face and to hide his evident confusion.

"It is oppressively hot!" cried he, in a faint tone of voice.

A glass of iced water was handed to him, and soon he regained his
composure. Determined to remove the impression which his momentary
confusion might have made, he continued:

"Pooh, pooh! Those Kaligaweh fellows have crossed the sea long
ago. Depend upon it they won't show their noses on Dutch territory
again. I know for a fact that they were quite lately seen at
Singapore. There can be no doubt about that."

"Well, Resident," replied the sugar-planter in a serious tone, "I must
tell you that I do not feel at all safe. You know, of course, that
here in India the outlying settlers always are the first victims of
these native plots; and that if such a rising as I apprehend were to
break out, all Europeans would be ruthlessly massacred. My grounds,"
he continued, "lie far away, and, in case of a sudden outbreak, it
would take two days at least for either police or military to reach
me. I shall therefore esteem it a great favour if you will grant me
some kind of protection. Send me a few policemen whom I can trust,
I will see to the arming of the men."

"Policemen! my dear sir. What are you talking about? What would be the
use of them?" asked the Resident with a compassionate smile; for he had
by this time completely regained his self-possession. "You are creating
fanciful dangers. It is, in fact, absurd to talk in this manner."

"I know what I know," rejoined the sugar-factor, "and I say without
any hesitation, that the reports which have reached me do not appear
to me at all fanciful or incredible."

"All right!" said van Gulpendam carelessly.

"You must excuse me, Resident," insisted the sugar-planter, "but I
think that if you were living with your family in that lonely spot
you would not talk in quite such an easy way."

Although our friend van Gulpendam was not precisely the stuff that
heroes are made of, yet he was not by any means a coward. He felt,
moreover, perfectly well that the moment had arrived to payer de sa
personne. What might be said at Batavia should it be suspected that
he felt the slightest distrust or fear?

"All nonsense!" cried he in the same sarcastic and careless
manner. "Come now, my dear sir, to prove to you how certain I am
that there is nothing wrong, I invite myself and my wife to go and
stay with you for a fortnight on your plantation. I know you keep a
pretty good galley, do you accept my offer?"

"With the greatest pleasure in the world, Resident," eagerly cried
the planter.

He felt sure that the Resident of the district would take care to
come under a sufficient escort of police.

"Very well, then," replied van Gulpendam; "as soon as ever these
festivities are over at Santjoemeh, I will let you know; and then
you may get a couple of rooms ready for us."

"And how many oppassers do you intend to bring?"

"None at all! a couple of my servants, and that is all. I intend to
show you that I have the fullest confidence in the state of affairs,
and that I am under no apprehension whatever. Now that is agreed
upon, eh?"

Just outside, close under the verandah in which this conversation was
taking place, a couple of sentries were walking up and down as a guard
of honour to the kandjeng toean. If any one could but have watched
one of these fellows, he must have noticed that the sentry marched up
and down in such a manner as always to keep as close as possible to
the speakers. He must have observed also, that the man was listening
to every word that was said; and that his eyes wore a most dangerous
and sinister expression. At the last sentence spoken by the Resident a
gleam of satisfaction seemed to overspread the native soldier's face
and, had he received a classical education, no doubt the man would
have muttered to himself: "Deus quem vult perdere prius dementat."

As soon as van Gulpendam returned to Santjoemeh, he gave it out far
and wide that both his wife and himself were tired out by this round
of festivities, that they needed rest and had made up their minds
to go and enjoy a fortnight's peace and quietness at the factory
"Soeka maniesan."

Two days later they started. Laurentia took only her maid, and
van Gulpendam a couple of body-servants; but, on the box, a single
oppasser was seated beside the coachman. His duty was to hold aloft
the golden pajoeng in token that the Resident toean was seated within.

That same day Charles van Nerekool and Theodoor Grenits also started
for Gombong, intending from thence, in company with Murowski, to
go and surprise Anna van Gulpendam in her lonely retreat. The two
carriages crossed as they left the town of Santjoemeh. The one over
which the pajoeng was displayed travelling in an eastern direction,
while the other took the road to the south.

After nonna Anna and baboe Dalima had been so thoroughly frightened
at their bathing place, they no longer ventured to go alone to the
spot. They thought--indeed by this time they felt sure--that the
stone which so unexpectedly had splashed down by Anna's side, had
been detached from the rock above by the tread of some animal--of some
wild boar perhaps or some stray goat. But for all that the fright had
suggested the possibility of a surprise. Anna, therefore, had persuaded
an old Javanese woman to come and take up her abode with them in the
little hut. She would accompany them to the bathing place and mount
guard while the young girls were disporting themselves in the water,
and would thus be able to give them timely warning of the approach
of any possible intruder.

There was another advantage gained by taking this nènèh into their
service; for they could now leave to her certain necessary and menial
duties which would leave them more time to spend at the loom or to
work in the painting room. The harder they worked the faster the money
came in, for the kahins and the slendangs which they wove, and the
sarongs they painted, were in great request. In fact they generally
had more orders on hand than they could manage to execute. The result
was that the inmates of the hut began to find themselves in somewhat
easy circumstances, and--was it perhaps owing to this fact, or was
it because no one could look upon the two pretty girls without being
attracted by them?--At all events this much is certain that when,
on rare occasions, they appeared in the dessa Ajo, where they had no
fear of being recognised, the young men of the village would cast many
a tender look upon them--sometimes even a kindly word was whispered
as they passed.

All this the girls mightily enjoyed, and they had many a hearty laugh
over the love-lorn looks of the village swains. One day Dalima merrily
said to her young mistress:

"If they only knew that they were casting sheeps' eyes at a resident's
daughter, wouldn't they fly back in terror?"

"Hush, Dalima, do not mention such a thing again," said Anna very
seriously. "You ought to know that I dislike any such allusions. I
am no longer a resident's daughter!"

But, when she perceived that her scolding tone of voice really grieved
her companion, she continued with a pleasant smile:

"As if the young men of Ajo ever gave me a look!"

"But, Nana," asked Dalima, "whom do they look at then?"

"They have evidently taken a fancy to one of us," replied Anna,
"but it is certainly not to me; I can see that plainly enough. All
those smiles and sweet little whispers are for you, Dalima."

"How can you talk such nonsense!" said Dalima half-crossly.

"I am only telling you the truth, Dalima."

"Have you ever noticed Kjahi Wangsa, Nana? He has no eyes but for you."

"No, no, Dalima, for you."

"No, for you, Nana!"

And so the girls would run on almost daily, and on such occasions it
would have been hard to say who had the last word.

One day, as they were thus merrily talking, Anna said to her friend:
"What if it were the Kjahi who gave us that fright the other day?"

"What do you mean, Nana?"

"I mean that it might have been that booby watching us."

"There is not the least fear of that," replied Dalima, "he would never
have dared to do such a thing. Not one of the young fellows are bold
enough for that--he, least of all."

"Not much boldness required for that," laughed Anna, "to play the
spy on two young girls!"

"Well, I tell you, he would not have dared to do it. But you need
not trouble yourself, there was no one there at all. You know how
long we kept looking about and, though we had a view of the path for
a long way to the right and left, we saw not a single soul."

"Yet," rejoined Anna, "it seems to me a very mysterious thing."

"If there were anybody there at all," continued Dalima, "it must have
been a white man."

"A white man, Dalima!"

"Yes, it is now so long ago that I do not mind telling you all about
it. A few days earlier it would only have made you nervous. The
evening before we were frightened by the fall of that stone, a white
man arrived at Ajo, and passed the night in the loerah's house."

"Dalima!" cried Anna, in dismay, "who was he?"

"I can't tell you, Nana. I have tried hard enough to find out; but
I have discovered nothing further than that he busied himself with
butterfly catching. Pah!"

We may mention here that the natives of Java are, as a rule, afraid of
butterflies. They fancy that the dust from their wings produces violent
itching and even leprosy. Hence Dalima's exclamation of disgust.

"Did you see him, Dalima?" continued Anna, "did he see you?"

"Well, no, Nana, I did not. In fact next morning he started before
daybreak. The last that was seen of him was at Pringtoetoel, he was
then going in an easterly direction."

"Why did you not tell me this at once?" asked Anna.

"Why should I have done so? It would only have disturbed you for
nothing. What was the use of troubling you to no purpose?"

For a few moments the girls spoke not a word.

Dalima, who was beginning to fear that Anna was really displeased,
at length broke the silence and said:

"You are not angry with me, Nana?"

"Angry? no, Dalima."

"What makes you look so serious then?"

"I wish we could move to some other place," sighed Anna.

"Move? why?" cried Dalima.

"Yes, move away, further into the mountain, where the country is
wilder and more lonely. Yonder close by the birds-nest grots. I wish
I could retreat into one of those caves!"

"What are you thinking about, Nana?" cried Dalima, growing seriously
alarmed at her friend's words.

"Oh, I have some kind of presentiment that Charles is on my track,"
sighed Anna.

"He ought to have been here before this," remarked the baboe with
something very like scorn in her voice. "A Javanese," she continued,
"would have found you out long ago."

"How about Ardjan then?" asked Anna.

"Ardjan!" cried Dalima sadly, "Ardjan is a convict, he has run
away, Allah only knows where he is and what he is about. Moreover,
I am no longer his betrothed. To him I am nothing more than a poor
fallen girl!"

Both again were silent for some time, each absorbed in her own
thoughts. Anna was sorry that she had touched so sensitive a chord;
but it was Dalima who continued:

"But even if it were so, if the young judge really were on your
track--"

"Oh! don't speak so," cried Anna, "the very thought fills me with
terror. If I could think that possible I would start off at once."

"But what can you have against him?" persisted the baboe.

"No more of this, Dalima!"

"Have you ceased to love him then? Have you cast him out of your
heart?"

"Don't speak so!" cried Anna in the greatest excitement; "not love
him? Oh! if that were true! Cast him out of my heart! Not a day,
not an hour, not a minute passes without my thinking of him!"

"Well then," continued the simple Javanese girl, "why be so cruel?"

"Be silent, Dalima!"

"Can you not feel how wretched you are making him, Nana?"

"Oh! I pray you, pray do not say another word. Never, never can I be
his--no--nor any other man's wife."

Dalima looked up at her with a puzzled expression. It would not be
easy perhaps to say exactly what was passing in her mind. On her face
there was a look of astonishment mingled with vexation; in her eyes
one might read:

"What funny whims those white folk have! How miserable they make
their lives!"

After a little while she was about to renew the conversation, she was
in the act of opening her mouth to do so, when, just at that moment,
the nènèh entered the gallery where the two girls were sitting. She
had been down to the dessa to make some purchases, and now came in
to give an account of what she had bought and of the money she had
spent. Her entry created a diversion; but, when the old woman began to
open her budget of news, she caused the greatest consternation. She
told the girls that three Europeans had arrived at the dessa and had
taken up their quarters in the loerah's house.

"Three Europeans?" cried Anna, pale with terror.

"Yes, Nana," replied the nènèh, who, thinking that she was speaking
to a countrywoman of her own, always followed Dalima's example and
addressed the Resident's daughter as "Nana."

"Did you see them, nèh?" asked Dalima.

"No," said the old woman.

"Could you find out what business they have in the village?"

"Some say one thing, some another," was the reply. "I have heard
it said that they are railway people who are out on a shooting
expedition. I think it very likely, for they have guns with
them. Another man told me they are after snakes. Well they can catch
enough of them here. As I was coming along just now I saw a deadly
snake. Luckily I caught sight of the beast or else I might have
trodden on it, and then it would have been all up with me. A third
report is that the gentlemen have come to visit the birds-nest caves."

"Did you hear anything else?"

"No, Nana; but why do you look so strange? There is nothing whatever
to be frightened at--those white men never hurt anybody. Look--there
they are--coming up the path!"

Anna gave one look in the direction to which the nènèh pointed. She
uttered a shriek and catching up a slendang which she flung over
her head she rushed from the house. Dalima, who also had recognised
van Nerekool among the party, followed her mistress and both flew as
fast as their feet would carry them up the pathway which ran in the
opposite direction to the south of the Poleng range. The three men
could see two female forms leaving the hut and rushing up the slope
over against them.

"There she goes!" exclaimed Murowski.

"Anna! Anna!" cried van Nerekool in heartrending accents; but it was
in vain. That moment the two girls disappeared in a sudden bend of
the mountain path.

And now, before coming to the closing scene of our story, we must
here cast another look backward.

Van Nerekool and Grenits had started, as we heard just now, in a
carriage from Santjoemeh on their way to Wonosobo. From thence they
had pursued their journey on horseback.

They had no time, they had no inclination, to admire the beauty of
the sublime scenery through which they passed. Whenever Grenits tried
to rouse his companion and awaken in him some interest in the glories
that surrounded them, the latter might cast a furtive glance around,
but it was only to cry immediately after:

"Let us get on, Theodoor, let us get on!"

Before setting out on their journey, they had telegraphed to Murowski,
and they found that medical officer quite ready to accompany them. His
colleague was still staying at Gombong and our Pole therefore found
but little difficulty in getting his leave of absence prolonged for
four or five days.

The travellers, however, did not arrive at Gombong until pretty late
in the day. They were tired out with their long ride and felt that
they must put off further operations to the morrow. Of that compulsory
delay they made the best use they could by calling upon the commandant
of the place to pay their respects to him.

"If you three are going on the campaign!" exclaimed the kind-hearted
soldier, "I advise the butterflies and the beetles to keep a pretty
sharp look-out. There will be slaughter on the hills to-morrow. I
hope you have a good supply of corks and pins for the poor
prisoners. However, I wish you success."

But while they sat chatting with the commandant and with his wife and
enjoying a cool glass of beer in the verandah, a servant brought in
a telegram. It was addressed to Murowski. He took it from the man.

"Will you allow me?" said he, looking towards the lady of the house.

"Of course, of course," said she, "no ceremony required for
telegrams. Open it at once; perhaps it is about some patient. I only
hope it will not interfere with your expedition."

Murowski tore open the envelope and glanced at the signature.

"It is from van Rheijn," said he to his friends-- "Great God!" he
continued, "what have we here?"

"What is the matter? What is it?" exclaimed all in a breath.

"Tell van Nerekool," he read, "that Resident van Gulpendam and his
wife have been murdered by a band of ketjoes. Further particulars
by letter!"

For some seconds all present sat dumb with amazement and horror. Then
van Nerekool sprang to his feet, he snatched the telegram from
Murowski's hand, and held it up to the light of the lamp. He rubbed
his eyes as if he could not trust his senses:

"Aye!" he exclaimed at length--"true, too true!"

"Is Mr. van Nerekool related to those poor people?" asked the captain's
wife, who was struck by the ghastly pallor of the young judge's face.

"Pardon me, madam," said Grenits, "we happened to leave Santjoemeh
at the same time as the family van Gulpendam. The mere thought of so
terrible a murder perpetrated on friends, whom we but lately left in
the full glow of health and spirits, fills us with horror."

The lady nodded assent. "It is indeed terrible!" she murmured.

"My friends," said van Nerekool, turning to Murowski and Grenits,
"I fear our expedition will have to be deferred for a few hours. Under
these terrible circumstances I feel it my duty to go at once and see
Mrs. Steenvlak. How far is it from here to Karang Anjer, captain?"

"About six pals, Mr. van Nerekool," replied the soldier.

"Is it as much as that? Could you manage to get me a horse?"

"My own horse is at your disposal," said the captain. "What do you
intend to do?"

"I must at once ride off to Karang Anjer. It is now about seven
o'clock. Before eight I can be there. To-morrow morning before
daybreak I shall be off again, and at six I hope to be back here to
resume our journey to Karang Bollong. You need not fear, captain,
I shall see that your horse is well cared for."

"I am not at all afraid of that," replied the captain. "He will find
an excellent stable at the Steenvlaks." Then he rose and went to give
the necessary orders to get the horse saddled.

"Miss van Gulpendam was staying: with the Steenvlaks--" said the
lady of the house, her curiosity thoroughly aroused at this sudden
resolution on the part of van Nerekool.

"You are right, madam" replied Murowski. "You see it is very probable
that Mr. Steenvlak may know where the young lady is to be found,
and we might then break the sad news gently to her."

Meanwhile Grenits had been asking van Nerekool what he intended to do.

"She cannot now refuse to give me a few words to Anna," was his
reply. "In such terrible circumstances a true friend's advice may be
of the greatest value. Do you not approve of my plan?"

Theodoor merely nodded assent while he warmly pressed his friend's
hand.

Ten minutes later van Nerekool was in the saddle and was galloping
along the road to Karang Anjer. When he arrived there he found the
Steenvlaks had already been informed of the terrible event; for the
Assistant Resident also had received a telegram from Santjoemeh.








CHAPTER XLI.

THE OUTLAWS AT SOEKA MANIESAN. FEARFUL RETRIBUTION.


Yes! the terrible news was true--it was but too true--!

When the van Gulpendams arrived at Soeka maniesan, the proprietor of
that sugar-factory could not help admitting that lately all symptoms
of disturbance had disappeared. He had caused the woods, in which the
supposed seditious meetings were held, to be carefully watched; but
he had not been able to discover in them a single human being. Thus,
he had come to the conclusion, that either his former information had
been altogether false, or else that the mutinous spirits had removed
to some other part of the country.

Resident van Gulpendam, on his arrival, summoned the Assistant Resident
of the district of which Soeka maniesan was an outlying station, and
he also called before him the Regent and the Wedonos of the place;
but he could not extract anything out of them which might awaken so
much as a suspicion of danger.

Very much the other way! All these authorities declared that the
most profound calm and content prevailed throughout the district,
though the Regent was fain to admit that there was a great deal of
poverty and distress about.

"Indeed!" said the Resident; "and what may be the cause of this sad
state of things, Radhen Adipattie?"

The Javanese chief shook his head dubiously, he did not at all like
answering that question.

As he stood there hesitating, van Gulpendam asked:

"Do the landowners pay the labourers reasonably well?"

"Oh, yes, kandjeng toean."

"Perhaps the rice harvest has failed or has not, this season, produced
as much as usual?"

"No, no, kandjeng toean, the harvest has been especially good and
abundant this year. The men have brought home many bundles of rice
to the common barn."

"What then may be the cause of the distress you speak of, Radhen
Adipattie?" asked the Resident.

"I do not know," replied the Javanese chief with a sigh.

The truth was, that he knew it well enough; but that he did not dare
to speak out. He knew equally well that if he told the whole truth he
would incur the displeasure of the Resident. He knew that the barns
were empty. The harvest had been plentiful indeed; but very little
of the crop had found its way to the barns.

The fact is, that the Javanese is a mere grown-up child. He had simply
squandered away his produce while it was yet standing unripe in the
fields. To lay his hands upon a little ready cash, he had sold his
rice, long before it was cut, to the Chinese money-lenders. And the
money thus obtained, at a ruinous sacrifice of course, had speedily
found its way to the opium-den, to the gambling-booth and to the
pawn-shop. It had been swallowed up by that august Trinity which is
the chief source of Dutch revenue. No, no! the Regent was too prudent
a man to put his thoughts into words, he cast a look of awe upon the
big cross which glittered on the Resident's breast and, with another
sigh, he said again:

"I cannot tell, kandjeng toean."

The Resident was perfectly satisfied with the result of his
investigation, and declared that he would occupy no other rooms than
those in the outbuildings. He professed himself quite contented with
the ordinary visitors' quarters.

"But, Resident," persisted the proprietor, "your apartments in the
house are all ready for you."

"My worthy friend," said van Gulpendam, "I won't hear of any such
thing. I intend to prove to you that I am perfectly satisfied as to
the state of the country, and, in the out-buildings I shall sleep as
securely and as soundly as you in your house."

From this resolution no arguments could move him. And, indeed, it
seemed that he was perfectly right. The reports which came in from
all quarters were so reassuring, that the owner of the factory Soeka
maniesan himself was beginning to incline to the opinion that he must
have been deceived.

The first night which the Resident and his wife passed in their
apartments, was as quiet as any night could possibly be, and they
enjoyed the most delightful rest.

The next day was spent in a minute survey of the sugar-factory although
it was rather late in the season, and the yearly campaign was about
to close. In the afternoon they took a pleasant walk, in the course
of which both Mr. and Mrs. van Gulpendam were delighted at the very
great respect which was paid them by every class of natives they
happened to meet. Not that such homage was strange to them, quite
the contrary; for, while he was only a controller, van Gulpendam had
exacted that every native whom he encountered on the way should squat
down and make a respectful sembah, and that every woman should turn
away her face, which is the usual way of showing deference. But here,
all these things were done by the natives with such evident signs of
deep humility--the country people were evidently so overawed at the
sight of their august visitors--that both the Resident and Laurentia
were delighted at so much submission. No, no, in these parts there
could be not the smallest ground for apprehension; van Gulpendam
thought he knew quite enough of the native character to make sure of
that. The evening also was passed most pleasantly. The owner of Soeka
maniesan had invited the principal families of the neighbourhood to
meet the Resident; and these had, of course, eagerly, accepted the
invitation. The gentlemen, and some of the ladies too, sat down to
a quiet game at cards, and those who did not play, passed the time
pleasantly enough with music and social conversation.

If some remnants of uneasiness could yet have lingered in the
Resident's mind, the placid landscape which lay stretched out before
him must have dissipated all such vague apprehensions. The moon stood
high in the heavens and shed her calm quiet light over the scene. A
cool breeze was rustling in the leaves of the splendid trees by which
the entire building was surrounded. In fact, everything breathed the
most profound peace, that serene quiet which makes tropical nights
above all things delicious. Thus the evening passed in quiet enjoyment,
and the hour of midnight had struck before the carriages came rumbling
up to take the visitors home.

When the guests had taken their departure, and the inmates of the
house were preparing to retire to rest, one of the overseers came
in and reported that some fellow had been seen sneaking about behind
the garden hedge.

"Some thief, probably," said the man carelessly, as if such a thing
was a not at all unusual occurrence.

"Come," said the proprietor, "let us go and have a look round." As
he said these words, he took down his gun, and offered the Resident
a weapon of the same description. Van Gulpendam however, with a wave
of his hand, declined to take it.

The two gentlemen, accompanied by the overseer, walked out into the
grounds; while the ladies retired to their bedrooms.

As we have already said, the weather was beautifully warm and clear.

The two European gentlemen strolled about but could discover nothing
to breed suspicion. The cool night-air induced them somewhat to extend
their walk. They got outside the grounds and entered the fields of
sugar-cane which adjoined the property, in which the canes had already
been partially gathered. The cane which had been cut had been carried
away to the factory; but a considerable part of the field was still
occupied by the tall stems awaiting the hand of the reaper. Here and
there in the field were big heaps of dry leaves which had been stripped
from the cane and were destined presently to be carried to the factory
to serve as fuel. The proprietor of Soeka maniesan was a thoroughly
practical sugar manufacturer, a man who knew all the ins and outs
of his trade; and Mr. van Gulpendam, who, while he occupied inferior
positions in the interior of the island, had been brought much into
contact with that industry, prided himself upon being pretty well up
in the subject also. Thus between these two experts, the conversation
never once flagged. Followed at a respectful distance by the overseer,
the gentlemen strolled leisurely along discussing the various kinds
of cane which were grown on the plantation. Van Gulpendam would
have it, that the light yellow cane contained the greatest amount
of saccharine matter, while the other declared, quite as positively,
that his long experience had taught him that the dark brown cane was
the more profitable to grow.

Both gentlemen stuck to their opinion, and the discussion was growing
somewhat lively; when--suddenly--a yell was heard, and a number
of men with blackened faces and armed with clubs, sprang up from
behind one of the heaps of leaves and made a rush straight at the two
Europeans. Startled at this sudden apparition, the Resident and his
host took to flight; but they had time to run only a very few paces,
before the nimble-footed Javanese had caught up the proprietor of
the factory and felled him to the ground with a single blow, before
he could so much as get his gun up to his shoulder. The Resident
they did not overtake until he had got within the grounds; but,
instead of striking at him, the men seized him, flung him down to
the ground and securely bound him. What had meanwhile become of the
overseer was a mystery. Very likely he had thrown himself down and
was crouching behind a heap of leaves; or, perhaps, he was hiding
behind some bushes. As van Gulpendam was being bound, he could see a
dozen of the men rushing off in the direction of the wing in which
was situated his wife's bedroom. He would have cried out for help;
but a powerful hand drove into his mouth a gag made of an old rag and
prevented him from uttering a sound. He could see that the attacking
party first attempted to open the door; but, finding it locked and fast
bolted, dashed it from its hinges with their clubs. Then the whole
party rushed in and cries of terror arose from the interior--then,
suddenly, came one terrible shriek of agony--and all was still again--.

This had taken place so rapidly, that the din made by the battering
in of the door only startled some inmates of the house and the men
who, during the night, had to attend to the steam-engines in the
factory. Long before anyone could come to the rescue, the attacking
party had returned to their comrades, who mounted guard over van
Gulpendam. Then, one of them without attempting to disguise his
voice, said:

"Come, make haste, let us get along, the horses are waiting for us
in the cane-field."

"Is the lady dead?" asked one of the men as coolly as possible.

"Dead!" was the reply, in a voice which trembled with revengeful
passion.

"Come, pick up that white pig, or else all the factory men will be
upon us and I shall have to kris the dog; that would be a pity."

At the words, a couple of bamboo poles were thrust under the arms
and legs of poor van Gulpendam.

"I am the kandjeng toean Resident!" he tried to say. Whether the words
were understood or not is doubtful; but the only result of the effort
was a furious blow in the mouth which drove the foul gag further home.

"March!" said the leader. Four Javanese thereupon took up the bamboo
poles on their shoulders and trotted off with their burden. The
sufferer groaned with the intense pain caused by the jolting; but
his lamentations were not heard, or if they were, no one paid the
slightest heed to his distress. Close outside the factory grounds
stood half-a-dozen horses saddled and all ready to start. Upon one
of these van Gulpendam was tightly strapped, then some of the men
mounted the other animals and the troop was ready to move on.

"To the 'djaga monjet!'" cried one of the horsemen to those whom he
left behind.

"Yes, yes!" eagerly cried the others.

As soon as the mounted men had disappeared with their prisoner, the
party which was left behind set fire to the sugar-canes. The reedy
stems burned fiercely and soon the dreadful roar of the flames was
mingled with the sharp crackling of the canes. Under cover of these
flames and of the smoke, the party were enabled to make good their
escape; and it was not until then that the big gong of the factory
began to sound the alarm.

While this seizure was taking place at Soeka maniesan, another
surprise of the same kind was being carried out with equal success
in another quarter.

About six pals from the town of Santjoemeh there stood a quaint looking
building, hidden away very pleasantly amid charming scenery in the
bends of the rising ground. Had the house been built in anything like
Swiss or Italian style, it might have been called a chalet or a villa;
but the order of its architecture was so distinctly Mongolian that
no mistake could be made as to its origin. It was, in fact, a Chinese
pavilion which lately had become the property of Lim Ho the son of the
opium factor at Santjoemeh. If anyone had fondly hoped that, after
his marriage, our babah would have settled down and become somewhat
less irregular in his habits, a single peep into the interior of that
pavilion must have dispersed all such pleasant illusions. That small
building, situated there in so charming and lonely a spot was, in fact,
nothing else than a trap into which the licentious young Chinaman was
wont to decoy the victims of his lust and was enabled to ensure their
ruin. The apartments of the pavilion were all furnished regardless
of cost and in the most sumptuous Asiatic style. In every room there
were luxurious divans and on every wall hung pictures which might be
valuable, perhaps, as works of art, but the subjects of which were
sensual and immoral to the lowest degree. On that same night in which
the attack was made upon Soeka maniesan, that Chinese pavilion also was
surprised. Here the attempt succeeded even more easily than that on the
sugar plantation. Lim Ho had that evening left his house in Santjoemeh
and was sitting in his pavilion impatiently awaiting for some poor
creature who had aroused his passions, and whom his agents had promised
to bring him. He had with him only two Chinese servants, fellows who
neither would nor could offer the faintest resistance. About midnight,
a knock was heard at the door. It was a low faint knock, and the babah,
in a fever of expectation, and thinking it was the pigeon which had
been decoyed to his den, gave the word at once to open the door.

No sooner, however, had the bolts been drawn and the key turned in the
lock, than half-a-dozen men with blackened faces and armed to the teeth
sprang in. Lim Ho, true to the cowardly nature of his race, turned pale
as death but never for an instant thought of resistance. He glanced
round nervously to see whether any way of escape lay open to him; but
when he saw both doors occupied and guarded by the attacking party,
he tried, in his unmanly terror, to hide himself by creeping under
one of the divans. In a very few minutes, however, he was dragged out
of that hiding place and was securely bound, strapped to a horse and
carried off.

Here again, just as at Soeka maniesan, the attacking party left
everything untouched. They did not lay a finger on any of the articles
of value which lay scattered about; but they confined themselves
strictly to the murder of Mrs. van Gulpendam and to the capture of
the Resident and of the opium farmer's son.

The proprietor of the sugar factory had, it is true, been knocked down
by a blow of one of their clubs; but that blow had not been struck
wantonly. It was inflicted simply as a precaution and in self-defence;
for the man would undoubtedly have run off and spread the alarm. He
would have roused his factory hands and caused the whole plot to fail,
and he would immediately have started in pursuit of the raiders. That
had to be guarded against at all hazards. But the blow did not prove
deadly or even dangerous. As soon as the first excitement, consequent
upon the discovery of Laurentia's murder, had somewhat subsided,
a band of men had sallied forth to put out the fire in the fields,
and then the owner of the factory was discovered lying insensible just
outside his own grounds. At first they thought he was dead; for he was
quite unconscious. They carried him into the house, and then his wife
soon found out that her husband, though stunned by a severe blow,
was neither wounded nor materially injured. Every effort was made
to restore him, and after some time, he recovered his senses. The
day had dawned before the police had arrived at Soeka maniesan and
began to make their inquiries. There and then a careful examination
was held of the entire staff employed on the factory--every single
individual being submitted to a rigorous interrogatory; but no clue
was found which could lead to the detection of the perpetrators of
this daring outrage. Just outside the yet smouldering cane-fields,
were found the tracks of horses; but that led to no result for the
weather had for a long time been very dry and the morning breeze had
covered all further tracks with a thick layer of fine dust. Thus
there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to indicate the direction
the horsemen might have taken. The proprietor himself, poor fellow,
could not give the slightest information. All he knew was that, as
he was quietly walking about engaged in argument with the Resident,
a number of fellows with blackened faces had started up from behind
one of the tall piles of leaves, that he had attempted to run away,
but had been overtaken and had received a blow on the head which
stunned him. Of what had taken place after that he, of course, knew
nothing whatever. The overseer's story was, if possible, still more
unsatisfactory. He said that the instant he saw the threatening forms
appearing from behind the heap of dadoe, he had flung himself down
flat upon the ground and then crept under another heap of leaves;
and that he had not ventured to stir out of that hiding place until
he heard the crackling of the canes and began to fear that the
leaves which covered him might be attacked by the flames. While in
this state of terror and suspense, he had seen nothing and had heard
nothing. Now, the question was: where were they to look for Resident
van Gulpendam? The police were at their wits' end. The whole district
of Santjoemeh was, naturally enough, in the greatest excitement;
and universal horror prevailed at the terrible fate which, in all
probability, had overtaken the chief of the district. But do what
they could, and search where they would, not a trace of the criminals
could be discovered, not a single gleam of light could be cast upon the
impenetrable mystery. For a day or two this state of suspense endured
until a fisherman, as he was trying to get his boat into the Moeara
Tjatjing, caught sight of the naked body of a European floating just
outside the surf. He made for it and drew it into his boat and then
took it to the loerah of Kaligaweh which was the nearest dessa.

Had this simple Javanese fisherman only known that it was the body of
the kandjeng toean, he would no doubt have turned away his head and
quietly said to his mates: "Let Allah's justice float by undisturbed."

Had he been able to foresee what troubles he was bringing upon
himself by raising that corpse from its watery grave, he would have
taken good care not to touch it. The alligators would, no doubt,
soon enough have provided for its burial.

As it was, the loerah of the dessa began by locking up the poor
fellow. Then he had to submit to endless examinations by the wedono,
by the pattih, by the regent, by the controller, by the assistant
resident, by the public prosecutor. All these authorities were
most eager in the matter; and thought that, in this poor man, they
held in their hands a clue to the mysterious drama enacted at Soeka
maniesan. Thus they vied with one another in badgering the poor devil,
until they drove him to desperation, and he at length was forced to
declare that he was light-headed and of weak intellect.

The body was readily identified as that of Resident van
Gulpendam. There could be no doubt about that; for the features
were almost intact. But all the parts which the sea-monsters had
spared appeared extremely inflamed and swollen; and it was evident
that the unhappy man must have died under an extremity of torture,
though there was nothing to show that any knife or sharp instrument
had caused his death.

What then had been his fate?

"To the 'djaga monjet!'"

Yes! It was indeed to that very same dismal hut in the mangrove swamp
by the Moeara Tjatjing, to which we introduced our readers in our
first chapters, that the band of horsemen was now riding at full speed.

They carefully avoided all the dessas which lay on the road, a thing
which they could easily do as they were perfectly acquainted with all
the bye-paths. They shunned even the guard-houses, not being certain
that the watchmen stationed there could be implicitly trusted. Thus,
without let or hindrance, the little troop rode on, and the day was
just beginning to break when they reached the mangrove wood, in which
the "djaga monjet" was situated.

When they carried van Gulpendam, still bound hand and foot, into
the hut, they found Lim Ho there. He had been brought in some time
before, and was lying stretched out at full length upon the wretched
flooring. He also was bound so tightly that he could not move hand
or foot. At a signal from a tall, slim Javanese, who appeared to be
the leader of the band, the cords which bound the unhappy prisoners
were loosened, and the gags were removed from their mouths.

Around them stood about twenty Javanese, all unrecognisable, with
blackened faces and fully armed.

The Chinaman uttered not a word, he seemed prostrate with terror. The
sudden shock appeared to have annihilated him.

But, as soon as the European felt that he was free, he stretched his
limbs, and in a voice of conscious dignity he said:

"Are you aware that I am the kandjeng toean Resident?"

"Yes, kandjeng toean," replied the leader in a tone of mock humility.

"It is but a few days ago," continued van Gulpendam, "that the kandjeng
toean Radja honoured me with a particular mark of his high favour." As
he spoke these words he pointed haughtily to the huge cross which still
was hanging sparkling on the breast of his light-blue resident's frock.

"Yes, kandjeng toean!" repeated the leader, while all his men made
the sembah in token of deep respect.

"Government will exact the most terrible punishment should you hurt
so much as a hair of my head!"

A mocking laugh was the answer to that speech. Twenty men grasped
the handles of their krises; but at a wave from the leader's hand,
all kept silence, and not a single word was spoken, not a single
blade was drawn.

"Before Government will be able to punish," rejoined the Javanese
quietly, "you will both be dead men."

"Dead!" exclaimed Lim Ho in a voice husky with terror.

"Dead?" cried van Gulpendam. "No, no, you dare not do that! My death
would be too fearfully avenged!"

"Both of you, I said--" resumed the leader with perfect coolness,
"I said both of you deserve to die. We have passed sentence upon
you. That sentence must be carried out--after that, they may do with
us what they will--I mean, of course, if they can lay hands upon us."

"But," cried Lim Ho, half mad with terror, "what have I done?"

"You ask me what you have done? Well, I will tell you. In this very
hut, you inflicted upon a man, whose only fault was that he loved,
and intended to marry, a girl upon whom you had cast your lustful
eyes, the most atrocious torture. You ask what you have done? That
same young girl you contrived, with the assistance of the njonja of
yonder wretch, to get into your possession, you outraged her most
brutally, and then, when you had worked your foul will upon her,
you cast her off and accused her of opium smuggling."

Lim Ho's face grew ashy-pale as he heard these terrible words, he
began to understand into whose hands he had fallen.

Van Gulpendam thought that he ought still to keep up his proud and
dignified bearing. He could not bring himself to believe that a mere
Javanese would dare to raise his hand against his august person,
against the kandjeng toean. But yet he thought it advisable to speak
in a somewhat conciliatory tone.

"If what you have just now said be true," he began, "then certainly Lim
Ho deserves severe punishment, and I pledge you my word that I will
exert my authority to see that his punishment shall be proportioned
to his offence; but what have I done that you dare to treat me thus?"

"You, you, kandjeng toean!" vehemently broke in the leader, in a voice
which seemed fairly to hiss with rage, "you have made the offences,
as you call them, of this Chinese dog possible. You have had the
man, of whom I just now spoke, cast into a dungeon, you condemned
him to the most barbarous punishment, knowing all the while that he
was innocent. And all this you have done merely in order that you
might screen the smuggling trade of that scoundrel. You supplied
the opium-farmer with the means of preventing that girl's father
from defending his own child against the brutality of yon beastly
Chinaman. Do you still ask me what you have done? Why, you and your
wife are guilty of all I have said--and you and your wife deserve to
die. Part of our sentence has already been carried out, and, believe
me, it will be fully executed."

"Wha--! What? Partly carried out you said?" gasped van Gulpendam. "My
wife--!"

The leader turned to one of his followers:

"Tell the kandjeng toean what has become of the njonja."

"The njonja is dead!" was the brief reply.

"Yes!" shouted the leader wildly, "the njonja is dead! We had mercy
upon her, one single stab put an end to her accursed life. Look
here--those spots on my kris--they are her blood!"

"That shriek I heard?" cried van Gulpendam.

"Was the last sound she will ever utter in this world. But," continued
the Javanese, still carried away by his passion, "do not for a moment
flatter yourself that we will deal thus mercifully with you. Upon a
woman we could have compassion. But you! Oh yes, you shall suffer! You
shall feel something of the tortures you are so ready to inflict
upon others!"

Even then van Gulpendam retained something of his fortitude and
haughty bearing, and he said:

"I bid you beware of the punishing hand of the Dutch Government,
it will know how to avenge me."

"I am prepared to brave any peril, if only I have my revenge," said
the Javanese. "Upon you I am determined to execute justice!"

"Justice, justice!" cried van Gulpendam, "and who are you that you
dare to prate about justice, even while you are planning sedition
and preparing for murder? Tell me who are you?"

"Who I am? Well, you shall know!"

In a corner of that wretched cabin stood a tub filled with water. The
Javanese took up the cocoa-nut scoop which hung by it and washed
his face.

"Now do you recognise me?" he cried, as he drew himself up to his
full height before his prisoners.

"Ardjan!" sighed Lim Ho.

"Ardjan!" cried van Gulpendam as thoroughly dismayed as was his
companion in misfortune.

Both of them now plainly saw that they were reserved for some dreadful
death. The account which each had to settle with that young man was
a heavy one indeed.

"Have mercy! Have mercy upon us!" they cried as they fell down on
their knees before him, their teeth chattering with terror as they
knelt at his feet.

"Mercy?" almost shrieked Ardjan. "What mercy did you show poor Dalima
and old Setrosmito? Come, speak up, will you? What mercy did you
show to me and to my old father? Dalima violated! My father and I
locked up for months in a loathsome prison, and then, sentenced--by
your very mouth--to years of penal servitude-- And now you ask me to
have mercy? If I could feel pity then indeed you might call me the
veriest blockhead in the world. But," continued the Javanese, after
a moment's pause, "tell me, supposing I could feel pity, supposing I
were to set you free, tell me, kandjeng toean, what would you do then?"

These words were spoken in a much milder tone, it seemed as if Ardjan
were wavering, and, in that hesitation, the unfortunate European
thought he could see a faint gleam of hope. Trembling with fear,
he raised himself on his knees, and, wringing his hands in agony,
he cried, while big tears went coursing down his cheeks:

"Oh, do not fear. You shall have full pardon--free pardon--I have power
with the Government and I can induce them to forgive all. The great
lord at Batavia will grant me my request. All the injustice which has
been done shall be amply made good. You shall have compensation--I
will see to it I will pay it out of my own purse--! All that has
happened shall be made good, believe me!"

"Dalima's injuries also?" asked a hoarse croaking voice from behind
Ardjan. "Those white fellows seem to think they are almighty, or else
they fancy that we Javanese are the greatest fools in the world!"

That name of Dalima and these few scornful words seemed to rouse Ardjan
out of the fit of weakness which appeared for a moment to have come
over him. He shook his head violently as if he wished to drive out some
unwelcome thoughts, at that movement his head-cloth became loosened and
his long black hair streamed fiercely and wildly over his shoulders.

"No! no!" he exclaimed, "no pity, no mercy. Now I have you in my power,
you are crawling and cringing at my feet as mean and as cowardly as the
vilest beasts. Did you ever see a Javanese so degrade himself? Did
you ever see a native act so meanly, even when pleading for his
life? You have sent plenty of them to the gallows, and you ought to
know how a coloured man can die. Pity! mercy! Ha! ha! ha! You are ready
enough now with your promises; but in your hearts you are, even now,
scheming how you may evade them and break them. Trust a white man's
word!--ha! ha! ha! As if we don't know all about that. Whenever did
a white man keep his promise to us Javanese? Whenever--"

Here one of the men whispered something into Ardjan's ear.

"Yes, yes, you are right, let us cut it short. No, no--no pity, far
from it. You shall have a painful, a cruel death. I had made up my
mind to give you the most terrible--the 'hoekoem madoe--'"

Lim Ho uttered a fearful yell at these terrible words.

"Mercy! mercy!" he moaned.

"--But that would take too much time," continued Ardjan, who had by
this time regained his composure. "We might get the police upon us
before you were quite finished and that would spoil the game-- No, I
have given up that idea. You shall undergo the 'hoekoem kamadoog.' The
same punishment, you remember, Lim Ho, that you gave me; and yet I
had committed no fault whatever, and the kandjeng toean there thought
it right to leave your outrageous crime unpunished. No, you must not
be able to say that I am more barbarous than you."

"Mercy! Mercy!" cried both the wretched men.

"No! no! no pity!" rejoined Ardjan.

Then, with a signal to one of his mates, he continued:

"Strip them and take them outside!"

That order was carried out literally and in a very few minutes. The
fine light-blue coat was rent from the Resident's back, his trousers
followed and his shirt; and torn to ribbons they soon lay on the dirty
floor of the cabin--even the Virtus nobilitat was trampled under foot.

Lim Ho underwent the same rough operation, and then both men stood
there naked before their pitiless judges. Then their hands were tied
behind their backs and the wretched creatures were simply pitched
down the rude steps.

Ardjan reminded Lim Ho of the glorious fun he had eight months ago
when the two Chinamen and himself were similarly treated.

"You remember," he laughed, "how Than Khan and Liem King tumbled down
from top to bottom? It was fine sport to you then!"

It took but a few moments to tie up the two victims to the
Niboeng-palms, which grew in front of the hut--to the very trees to
which the two Chinamen and Ardjan himself had been fastened.

"The kandjeng toean to that tree," said Ardjan, pointing to the stem
at which he had himself suffered.

"Pardon! Pity!" the poor victims kept crying incessantly.

No one heeded their agonising yells. When they were tied up--Ardjan
gave the word: "Now, my lads, give way!"

Four men stepped forward each armed with a bunch of the formidable
nettle, and the blows began to fall like rain upon the bare limbs of
the wretched victims.

Wherever the leaves fell the flesh seemed to shrink away in agony.

The Chinaman bit his under-lip until the teeth met in the flesh,
but he did not utter a single moan. At first van Gulpendam strove
to follow his example; but he had not the tough resolution of an
Asiatic in this supreme moment. He could not restrain himself. First
he moaned, then he whimpered, he cried aloud in his misery, he
howled, he yelled with pain. Nothing could touch his ruthless
executioners. "Pardon! mercy!" he cried. "Oh, I beg for mercy!"

But, in reply to his piteous cries, came the words:

"Dalima! Ardjan! Pak Ardjan! Setrosmito!" And then upon the brain of
the unhappy Resident there flashed another name, a name more terrible
to him perhaps than all the others:

"Meidema, Meidema! pardon, mercy!" he kept on wailing in a voice
which told of the most exquisite torture.

But gradually his cries grew weaker, at length they became hardly
intelligible--they gurgled like a hoarse and dying rattle in the
throat. The pain was beyond endurance. Still the men kept plying
their deadly nettle.

At length his head began to dangle helplessly, and it seemed as if
the unfortunate sufferer had lost consciousness.

Lim Ho had been fortunate enough to reach that state much earlier,
and was thus sooner out of his misery.

Ardjan stood by at the scene, glaring at his victims with revengeful
eagerness. He clenched his fists convulsively, he had to exercise
the greatest self-control to prevent himself from catching up one of
the bunches of kamadoog leaves and having his blow at the wretched
beings who had not scrupled to inflict the same barbarous treatment
upon himself. No, no, he felt not the smallest grain of pity--he
could think only of his own wrongs and his own happiness destroyed
for ever. Even if the voice of pity could have spoken within him it
would have been stifled by his father, who, standing close behind him,
kept on whispering in his ear: "Dalima, Dalima!"

For some time the two victims had been unconscious; but yet Ardjan
did not think of putting a stop to the torture. At every blow, at
every touch even of those terrible leaves the skin of the sufferers
puckered up though the bodies no longer felt the pain. The muscles
stretched, then ran up into knots and horrid spasms shot through the
entire frames. Soon the bodies could no longer support themselves,
but hung in the cords that bound them, limp as empty sacks. The eyes
of the tortured men were closed; but every now and then they would
spasmodically open for a moment, and would stare with a blood-shot
stony gaze which betrayed the extreme suffering which even the
senseless body was undergoing.

In their dying agonies they flung their heads convulsively to and fro,
dashing them up fearfully against the Niboeng palm while flecks of
foam came flying from their lips. But, in this world everything must
come to an end, and at length the protracted sufferings were over.

Gradually the convulsive starts of the two bodies began to subside and
finally ceased altogether. The soul had left its earthly tenement. Then
Ardjan, in tones the most indifferent in the world, said, "Enough!"

At the word, his men looked at him for further instructions. "Untie
them," he said, and without speaking another word, he pointed to
the sea.

The instant the ropes were cut through, the bodies fell with a heavy
thud to the ground. As he fell van Gulpendam for the last time opened
his eyes and, very softly, but quite intelligibly he sighed forth
the single word:

"Meidema!"

The thought of that unhappy family--of those good honest people whose
ruin he had so craftily and cruelly planned, haunted that guilty
soul even as it was taking its flight. With that name on his lips
he expired.

Lim Ho gave no sign of life.

Both corpses were then dragged to the Kali Tjatjing and pitched into
the water, and the stream quickly carried them out to the Java sea.

In the far distance between the two headlands could be seen the
schooner brig Kiem Ping Hin quietly riding at anchor and flying
the British ensign. Faithful to her calling she was waiting for an
opportunity to deliver her smuggled goods to the company Lim Yang Bing.








CHAPTER XLII.

IN THE GOEWAH TEMON. CONCLUSION.


"Anna, Anna!" cried van Nerekool, and in that cry he cast his whole
soul; but it was uttered in vain; for just then a sharp bend in the
path caused the two girls to disappear behind a great mass of rock.

When Charles, Murowski and Grenits reached the spot where they had
caught this last glimpse of the fugitives, not a trace could be
discovered of either of them.

"Anna, Anna!" shouted Charles again and again at the top of his voice;
but a beautifully distinct echo, reverberating from the opposite hills,
seemed only to mock his cries.

Our three friends, however, were now compelled to pause. They felt
that they could go on no longer, and must stop awhile to regain
breath. The exertion, indeed, had been very great; for that little path
kept winding upward, ever upward, and the headlong speed with which
they had rushed on made a short rest absolutely necessary. Charles,
however, every now and then, repeated his cry of "Anna, Anna!" He
thought that his voice might perhaps reach the girl and induce her
to stop or to turn. But, no other response came to his anxious call,
than that of the sportive echo which, sharply and clearly, flung back
the two syllables, "Anna, Anna!"

When they had rested awhile, and to some extent regained their
strength and their wind, the three set off again in pursuit. They
had to follow a road which led them along the most eccentric windings
up hill and down dale. At one time the path would run sharply round
some huge rock, at another it would follow the course of some erratic
mountain-stream. Elsewhere again, it ran zigzagging down an almost
perpendicular slope; but yet, on the whole, the ground was steadily
rising and was evidently leading up to the lofty table-land which
is bounded by the cliffs of the Goenoeng Poleng. Very frequently the
road would run, for a while, abruptly downhill as it took them into
the bottom of some wild ravine; but this, far from giving them rest,
only increased the discomfort of travelling. For the sudden change of
motion threatened to dislocate their already tired knees and then,
every descent was immediately succeeded by a sharp and trying climb
which put to tremendous proof the soundness and power of their lungs.

But in spite of fatigue, the three men kept hurrying on. Van Nerekool's
impatience would brook no delay. They panted, they caught their breath,
they puffed and blew like grampuses; but still they kept on. As they
turned every sharp bend in the road, they felt sure that they must
catch sight of the fugitives; for certainly they could not have got
very far ahead of them. Escape was utterly impossible; for there
existed but the one path up the mountain, and that went twisting
and turning through a country so wild and so rugged that no human
being could leave the footpath either to the right or left. So they
anxiously peered round all about them whenever they gained some spot
which gave a command of the country; but look as they would, not a
glimpse could they catch of either Anna or Dalima.

At length the three men gained the top of the plateau, and they felt
that, for a few moments, they must again sit down and rest. But yet,
they could find no trace of the young girls they were so eagerly
following. The road now no longer rose, it merely twisted in and out
between huge boulders of rock, between hill tops, and around thick
clumps of dwarf shrubs, and thus it offered no extensive view.

"They cannot possibly be far ahead of us!" panted van Nerekool. "Let
us get on, let us get on! We must be close upon them!"

But in this the young man was mistaken--as a matter of fact the girls
had really gained very considerably on their pursuers.

In the first place, they had a considerable start when the chase
began. They had been able to run nimbly along a path which was
quite familiar to them, which they had indeed been accustomed to
climb almost daily. Their knowledge of the country enabled them to
make many a short cut with which the Europeans were unacquainted;
and thus they had managed to avoid many a long bend and twist in the
road. And lastly, extreme terror seemed to have lent Anna wings, and
poor Dalima had been compelled, as best she might, to toil after her
young mistress. When they reached the plateau, Anna kept on leading
the way and hurrying in a southerly direction. She knew that the
sea could not be far away; for the thunder of the breakers, which,
for some time, had been audible in the distance as a hoarse murmur,
now grew more distinct every moment; and as they sped on they could
feel the very soil quivering under the terrific pounding of the mighty
ocean on the perpendicular wall of rock.

"Where are you running to, Nana?" panted Dalima.

"Let us hurry on!" cried Anna impatiently, as she ran, casting behind
her many an anxious look.

"But, where are we going to, Nana?"

"Why yonder!" cried Anna hurriedly as she pointed to the south.

"But that way leads to the sea!" cried Dalima.

"Just so," replied Anna, "and that is where I want to go."

"What are we going to do there, Nana?" asked Dalima anxiously.

"I know a hiding place where no one will find us or even go to look
for us."

"What? There, Nana?"

"Yes, yes, do come along--try to make another effort--it cannot be
far away!"

"A hiding place?" repeated Dalima. "But, Nana, there is nothing over
there but the bare rock."

"Aye; but in those rocks there are holes!" cried Anna much excited.

"The Goewahs!" exclaimed the baboe in utter dismay.

Anna answered a few words which, however, Dalima did not catch. Darting
on like a hind, the Resident's daughter had outstripped her
companion. Dalima was naturally very strong and inured to fatigue
and exertion; but her condition was beginning to tell upon her. The
burden she had to bear and the rapid motion, had utterly exhausted
her, and she felt her strength fast ebbing away. The blood began to
flush up to her head, her temples throbbed, her eyes seemed covered
as with a reddish film; and an insupportable feeling of weariness and
listlessness pervaded her entire frame. Still she struggled on game
to the last. Her breathing was getting thick and wheezy--she was, in
fact, on the point of fainting altogether. But this little Javanese
girl was endowed with a tough frame and an indomitable will; and,
though almost exhausted, yet she struggled after her companion as
mechanically she kept muttering to herself:

"Forward! Forward!" Oh no! she could not, she would not leave her
Nana in the hour of need.

This painful progress went on for some time. At length, after they
had turned round an immense boulder which seemed to form a barrier
to the path, Anna stood still.

Before her, in all its grandeur, lay stretched out the Indian Ocean;
and from the height of about twelve hundred feet she could obtain a
magnificent view of it.

She cast one anxious look behind her. The position she now occupied
commanded an extensive view of the path along which she had toiled up;
but not a soul could she see stirring on it. Might the pursuit have
been given up? It seemed improbable, yet it was possible. Might they
have missed the road and gone off on some wrong track? Anna fancied,
that every now and then, she had heard her name called out behind
her; but that again might very well be the result of her over-wrought
imagination. Again and again she eagerly scanned the horizon in all
directions. But no, nothing, nothing was to be seen.

Somewhat quieted she then turned her attention to poor Dalima, who,
panting and moaning, had, by this time, come up to her, and then,
almost senseless, had sunk to the ground.

Anna sat down by her companion. She tried to cheer her up; she rubbed
and kneaded, in native fashion, the muscles of her neck and shoulders,
she patted her hands; in fact, she neglected nothing that the most
anxious solicitude could suggest until she saw that Dalima had somewhat
recovered from her prostration.

As soon as she had succeeded in relieving her companion, Anna again
gave an anxious nervous look behind her, but still she could perceive
nothing. Then she walked forward resolutely to the edge of the slope
which ran before her down to the sea.

"Yes," said she, half aloud, "the ladder is still hanging there. I
have heard a good many tales about the Goewah Temon. If it must be
so--I shall fly there for refuge!"

Then, once again, looking to the north, she continued: "But I hope I
may not have to undertake that fearful journey--I can see nothing,"
she said with a sigh, "if Charles were really on my track, he must
have appeared long before this on the table-land!"

Therewith she turned her face full to the ocean. Though she was
disguised in Javanese dress, yet she was, and always would remain,
a child of the West; that is to say, her eyes were open to the glories
which Nature was there offering to her gaze.

Before her lay the Indian Ocean. On the far horizon it seemed to melt
away into the sky; but yet in that distance a line clearly defined
the apparent contact of sea and heaven. Closer inland the water
wore a dark blue tint, forming a beautiful contrast with the light
azure-blue of the heavens. This contrast was rendered more striking
still by the tremendous rollers which came up from the South. Those
mighty billows looked like long lines of liquid hills, which seemed
to detach themselves from the horizon and come rolling in majestically
upon the shore of Java.

These immense waves were smooth as polished glass; for not the faintest
breath of wind so much as ruffled their surface, and thus rising and
falling calmly and mysteriously, they looked like the undulations of
some vast sheet of dark blue cloth. They came rolling in quietly and
regularly like the ranks of an advancing army; and, on the side of the
wide ocean, they sloped but very gently, as though the deep were too
languid to exert itself. But, on the land-side, the slope was steep and
the columns of water came on black as an advancing wall. At first, and
seen at a distance, the tops of these advancing waves were smooth and
round; but as the watery mass neared the land and the wave rose higher
and higher, so gradually did it narrow and grow sharper at the top;
and the billows seemed to succeed one another at shorter intervals. At
length, the tops lost their rounded form altogether--they became
a mere ridge which began to fret angrily--then they sharpened to a
mere line which, fast and furious, seemed eager to outstrip the wave
itself. A moment after, this line of water began to bend forward,
forward, forward still, until it formed an arc of immeasurable
length. Presently that graceful curve seemed to fly to pieces and
shake itself into a ragged crest of silver foam; and, at last, the
entire mass came toppling down, covering the sea with thick milk-white
froth which came sparkling, and thundering, and dashing itself into
blinding spray against the wall of trachyte which seemed to say to
the mighty element: "Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther."

Anna did not venture to look down into the sheer depth below her, where
the waters were boiling in their fury. She feared that a look into that
giddy depth might shake her resolution should she actually be compelled
to attempt the descent. She gazed out far away to the horizon. There,
almost due west, she could clearly see Noesa Kembangan, that beautiful
hilly island which, with its luxurious vegetation, seemed to float as
a basket of flowers on the watery expanse. She could clearly discern
its lighthouse standing on the Tjemering hill--standing out clear
against the light blue sky like a pillar of cloud arising from among
the foliage. Here and there the bosom of the ocean was dotted with a
white sail like some big sea-bird disporting itself upon the glassy
surface. And, as if chance had wished to accentuate that resemblance,
just then a flight of snow-white cranes came hovering by, forming
a dull white stripe on the azure sky. They flew harshly screeching
towards the West, on their way, probably, to the fishy lagoons and
morasses which there abound. The swift and easy flight of these
birds suggested a sad thought to poor Anna: "Oh, that I had wings,"
she sighed, "that I also could fly, fly far away and be at rest!"

And then her fancy carried her back to the past. The image of Charles
van Nerekool rose up vividly before her. As in a dream she pictured
to herself how happy she might have been by her lover's side. She
could hear that "invitation à la valse" and to its delightful melody
she seemed once again to float about with his arm around her. She
could hear his first murmured confession of love. She again passed
through those delicious moments after the dance in the quiet garden
of the Residence. Before her, arose the Pandan grove in which Charles
had gently detained her to reiterate his declaration of love. At the
rhythmical swell and thunder of the ocean, which was giving forth its
mighty melody at her feet, she fancied she could hear again the soft
duet played by the cornet and the piccolo:


   "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 encore.... Mais depuis ce beau jour
    Je sais que j'aime d'un pur amour."


She felt once again her lover's arm around her waist and his voice
she could hear whispering to her softly, and saying:

"Anna, my darling, I love you, I love you more dearly than words can
express, more dearly than my mother, than my sister, more dearly than
my own life!"

Oh! those precious words! Ah! that heavenly moment! And then, dreaming
on, she heard:

"Tell me, Anna, tell 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!"

She had treasured up those words. They were engraven as it were,
in her heart. Then she could feel the kiss--the first kiss of love
which set the seal to her murmured reply. She could feel--

But, as at Santjoemeh, so here again, she was destined to be roughly
startled out of her reverie. She fancied she could hear the voice of
her mother. She would have cur-- No, no, not that, she had not the
heart to curse anyone; but she cast one reproachful look upwards to
heaven, as she felt how so much bliss had been turned to misery and
woe. The pleasant dream had vanished.

"A blighted life!" she sighed, "a blighted life!"

A sudden shriek shook her up out of her day-dream.

"Nana!" cried Dalima, "the gentlemen are coming."

And indeed, to Anna's horror, she then saw in the bend of the
path Murowski, van Nerekool, and Grenits, coming along with all
speed. Without taking one instant for deliberation she dashed down
the slope which led to the awful precipice before her.

"Nana! Nana!" cried Dalima beside herself with terror, "what are
you about?"

The poor Javanese girl did her best to follow her companion; but,
before she could fairly stagger to her feet, Anna was far ahead of
her, and, fagged and exhausted as Dalima was, she could not pursue
her quickly enough. As she neared the edge of the slope which ended
in a perpendicular wall of rock running straight down to the sea,
she could see Anna lay hold of the upper steps of the rottang-ladder
which led down to the deep below.

"Nana! Nana!" she cried in heartrending accents.

She rushed on--she saw her young mistress place one foot carefully
upon the ladder--she saw her body gradually disappearing.

"Nana! Nana!"

Now, only Anna's head was visible. That also disappeared, and she
could only see one hand clutching at the topmost rung.

"Nana! Nana!"

The hand let go its hold before Dalima could bend forward to grasp
it. It was gone--gone!

Then the Javanese girl flung herself flat upon the ground and peered
over the edge of the fearful precipice which yawned beneath her. What
she saw there was enough to freeze the young blood in her veins. But
she had no time to waste in gazing with horror at what was going
on below.

Once again she shrieked, "Nana! Nana!"

Just then she felt some one grasp her arm. She looked up, and van
Nerekool was standing beside her.

"You here, Dalima!" cried he, not understanding in the least what
was going on. "Where is nonna Anna?"

"Allah! tobat toean!" cried Dalima, still lying on the ground, but
pointing with horror down into the deep.

"There? There?" exclaimed Charles beside himself with terror, while
he flung himself down on the ground and gazed into that frightful
precipice.

Fortunately Grenits and Murowski were close behind their friend. He was
in a fearfully dangerous position, as he, regardless of all caution,
hung over the wall of rock, and it was well for him that his friends
firmly grasped his legs.

"Charles! Charles!" they cried.

"Anna! Anna!" cried van Nerekool in despair--for yonder, far beneath
him, he could see the girl cautiously climbing down the long ladder
which, made of rottang ropes, was dangling and swaying about under
the burden it had to carry.

The foot of this crazy ladder dipped into the sea, and was being
swayed about by the breakers as they came rolling in shore.

When a wave thundered up it swept the end of the ladder into the
cave as the water rushed into the opening; and then, when it receded
spouting out of the mouth with the force of a cataract, the foot of
the ladder was whirled away again in the opposite direction. This
violent motion repeatedly dashed Anna up against the face of the
rock as she was dangling there far above the surface of the sea, and
every now and then a roller would dash its blinding spray upward as
if greedy for its prey.

At that fearful sight van Nerekool shuddered.

"Anna! Anna!" he called again and again in heartrending tones.

His voice seemed to reach her above the din of the water. Timidly she
glanced upwards. When she saw that face which showed clearly against
the blue sky, and which she recognised in an instant, she uttered a
faint shriek and hurried down faster than before.

Van Nerekool sprang to his feet.

"I must go down!" cried he nervously.

And before his friends could do anything to prevent him, he had grasped
the top of the ladder, had stretched out one foot over the abyss, had
placed it into one of the rungs, and had begun his perilous descent.

It was now Murowski's turn, and Grenits's turn, to fling themselves
down flat on the ground.

Certainly it was a horrifying sight to behold those two human beings
dangling above that roaring sea on one frail ladder of rope. The two
men could not speak, they could hardly breathe, so intense was the
excitement and tension of that moment. There they lay gazing down,
utterly powerless to stretch out even a finger to save their friend.

As soon as Anna perceived that van Nerekool was following her she
obeyed the impulse which had driven her to flight, and tried to
descend more rapidly than before. But, another thought came flashing
upon her. She had heard the dessa-people at Ajo talking a great deal
about the Goewah Temon. She knew, from them, that, at low water,
the entrance to the cave might be reached; and that then the cave
itself might be entered. She knew also that this entrance could only
be gained by swimming, because the bottom of the cavity was quite
six feet below the lowest water mark. She did not mind that, for she
could swim like a duck; but--! but--! all this was only practicable
at ebb tide, at dead low water, and when the sea was calm and there
were no breakers rolling in.

But now--! now the waves were dashing with terrific violence against
that trachyte wall--It seemed as if every successive wave reached
higher--Yet she descended--further down--still down--

"Anna! Anna!" cried Charles above her head.

At length she reached the top of the vaulted cavity. She knew that,
at low water, the opening was about fifty feet high, but how narrow
did it look just then! Indeed the greater part of it was covered by
the sea. She fancied she might just manage to reach the courses of
rottang-rope which led from the mouth of the hole to its interior to
assist the gatherers of swallows' nests in their perilous work.

She was putting out her hand to feel for one of those cables.

But, as she did so, a wave of enormous strength came rolling up and
broke at her feet with a crash like thunder, and fearfully shook the
foot of the ladder which hung loosely floating about at the entrance
of the cave.

Terrified out of her senses, the young girl lost her presence of
mind altogether. She let go her grip, and fell backward into the
seething water.

"A blighted life!" was her last cry as she fell.

Van Nerekool had looked down, as he felt the huge wave approaching--he
saw his beloved Anna fall backward--he saw her floating in that boiling
surf--he saw her tossed and rolled about like a log in that thick mass
of white foam. For the merest fraction of a second he could see her
glorious mass of jet-black hair waving on the gleaming surface--and
then--all was sucked up into the cave and disappeared from his view.

To him, she was now lost for ever! There he was, helplessly dangling
above the precipice which had just swallowed up his dearest treasure
on earth, and--for an instant he knew not what to do. The next moment
came the lull and the huge billow was hurrying back to sea. Then the
young man saw the immense volume of water spouting out of the cave
with magnificent energy; but--in that clear blue column, as it rushed
forth, his eye could catch nothing which looked like a human body;
and it flashed upon him that, dead or alive, Anna must have been left
behind in the cave. She might have clutched hold of some projecting
rock, her clothing might have caught somewhere. Quick as lightning he
darted down the ladder. The top of that cave he must get to before
the next wave came tumbling in. With feverish eagerness he clutched
the rungs--he made no use of his feet--he rather slid down and--he
just contrived to grasp one of the rottang cables, and get his feet
clear of the ladder when, another wave gave it a violent shake which
might have compelled him to let go his grip and might have swallowed
him up as it had done Anna.

Van Nerekool was now, comparatively speaking, safe. Two sturdy cables
of considerable thickness were stretched out parallel to one another
all along the inner wall of the grot. At intervals these were fastened
by gemoetoe cords to the salient parts of the rock. On the lower of
these cables Charles could plant his feet, while with his hands he
grasped the upper one. Beneath him the sea was roaring and over his
head and all around him fluttered the sea-swallows uttering their
shrill cries and darting in and out of the mouth of the cave through
the blinding spray.

Grenits and Murowski from the top of the cliff had eagerly watched
all that had passed. They had been horrified at seeing Anna fall and
van Nerekool disappear in the cavity.

"Well!" cried one of them, "what to do now?"

"We can do no good up here," said the other.

Dalima begged them to tell her what they had seen, and as soon as
she had heard it she cried:

"We must be off at once to the loerah of the dessa Ajo. He has a boat
with which, I know, he occasionally visits the Goewahs."

And that brave little Javanese girl, forgetting all about herself and
her painful condition, shook off her fatigue and was already far down
the pathway before the Europeans had found time to follow her. And,
when they came to the foot of the mountain they found the boat of
which Dalima had spoken.

The loerah made a very wry face when he heard the project of the two
Europeans. To try and get to the Goewah Temon in such weather! It
could not be done. He pointed to the mouth of the Kali Djeties. There
the mountain water flowing down was struggling with the rising tide
and made the breakers fly up in clouds of spray. At the sight, which
was indeed an awful one, the two friends all but despaired. Must they
then give up all hope? Must they leave van Nerekool to perish without
an effort?

"I will give you fifty guilders, loerah!" cried Grenits, "if you
bring me up to the cave!"

The Javanese chief scratched the back of his head in sore perplexity.

"And I," cried Murowski, "I give another fifty!"

The loerah began to waver. He exchanged a few anxious words
with a couple of men who stood by his side. These seemed not so
scrupulous. With a gesture of assent they at once sprang into the
boat into which the Europeans took their seats also.

"Look here," cried Grenits almost cheerfully, "each of you fellows
shall have five-and-twenty guilders if we succeed!"

"I will give the same to each of you," said Murowski, "and now give
way with all your might."

The loerah had taken his place in the afterpart of the crazy boat and
he held the steering paddle. Even Dalima and our two friends Grenits
and Murowski had armed themselves with a paddle and prepared to help
the rowers to the best of their ability. Under the impulse of these
six blades the boat shot rapidly ahead.

At first, as long as the boat was in the bay all went well. The loerah
steered straight for the middle of the entrance of the Moeara; for he
was anxious to avoid the tossing and the dangerous back-draught of the
water along the coast, and thus, helped on by the stream of the river,
the little boat sped on like an arrow released from the bowstring. But,
as they gradually got into the estuary, the force of the ocean began to
make itself felt. The current began to decrease more and more until at
length it was no longer perceptible. Now small waves began to beat up
against the keel, and these presently increased in size and power as
they coursed along the sides and gave a kind of pounding or stamping
motion to the little boat. Still the canoe travelled on--it got into
the midst of the foam caused by the breakers and into the eddies formed
by the retreating waves. The little cockle-shell seemed dancing on
foam. The loerah, who knew that the critical moment was approaching,
was sitting in the stern his lips tightly compressed. He wore an
anxious and determined look as he clutched his steering-paddle which,
at one time, the wave strove, as it were, to pluck from his grasp,
and at another the violent swaying of the boat threatened to wrench
from him.

He was keeping a most anxious look-out, it was a question of life
or death. Could he venture to go on? When the billow broke, the
hollow tree-stem was at a considerable distance from it. But now the
question was: could they hope to get over the distance between that
mountain of water and the next one before it also would break? No,
he thought they could not. The risk was too great to run. Still he
kept looking out and, in the far distance, the next mass of water
came steadily rolling up. It was coming on like a towering hill. To
the men sitting in that frail canoe it looked like a mountain. The
little boat was still hurrying on and, though very unsteadily, yet
the five paddles kept way on her. The great wave every instant came
nearer and nearer--at length it seemed to rear--it rose as it were
perpendicularly over that nutshell, which seemed mad enough to brave
its fury. Already it began to form its silvery white crest and appeared
like a solid wall of polished blue glittering under the sun's beams.

"Easy all," shouted the loerah, who had the while been carefully
watching the approaching wave.

At the word the paddles ceased to move, and the boat lost all the way
she had on her. But just then it seemed as if, without any impulse
at all, the little boat was hurrying to meet the huge billow. It
looked as if she must inevitably be swallowed up in that mighty curl
of water which was about to form.

"Back her, back her!" shouted the loerah as he plied his paddle
vigorously.

Fortunately the frail boat immediately obeyed the reversed action of
the paddles, and was drawing back at the moment when the mass of water
was beginning to topple over. One moment, indeed it was only for the
fraction of a second, the inmates of the canoe caught a glimpse of that
vast cave of water, that enormous cylinder of light-blue transparent
crystal. But still the wave continued to curl, to describe something
like three quarters of a complete arc, and then--it came crashing
down at a few paces from where the boat lay, it came crashing down
with a sound like thunder, and covered the entire surface of the sea
with thick, milk-white foam. "Give way, give way!" now fairly roared
the loerah and, impelled by those sturdy arms, the boat shot ahead
over the whirling eddies, through the dense foam flakes, while the
terrible force of water went dashing up the mouth of the Moeara.

Now came the time for exertion; for she must be well away out of that
place before the back-sweep of the retreating wave could overtake her,
she must be fairly out to sea before another such breaker could come
upon her.

The men plied their paddles furiously, and the small craft shot ahead
with lightning speed. A little while, one supreme effort, and then
she began to rise.

"Give way! Give way!" again shouted the loerah and, redoubling his
own efforts, he encouraged his men to row vigorously.

Thus impelled under the frantic strokes of the rowers, the boat was
driven up the slope of the wave, which had not yet become dangerously
steep. For an instant the little shell hung balancing on that watery
edge, her ends hovering in the air, only the centre of her keel
resting on the water, and then, she quietly slid down the opposite
pent and all were out of danger.

The loerah thereupon steered a southerly course; but yet it took a
considerable time to reach the mouth of the Goewah. When they got
near the cave the ebb tide had fairly set in, and the helmsman had
to exercise only ordinary prudence to pilot the boat into the cavity.

Meanwhile what had been going on inside? When van Nerekool had gained
a footing on one of the cables, he had at once cautiously begun to
advance, groping his way in the twilight which reigned in the cave.

It struck him that the subterranean vault, into which he was now
venturing, was of considerable extent, and ran in far under the base
of the mountains; but at the same time, he noticed that the bottom of
the cave gradually rose, so that the sea, excepting in a few holes here
and there, only penetrated about two hundred feet into the interior.

But, within that space, the water had full sway, and was raging
furiously.

At first, he could hardly see anything: but presently his eyes
became more accustomed to the gloom, and he began, moreover, to feel
more confidence in the feat of tight-rope walking he was trying
to accomplish. Thus he advanced deeper and deeper still into the
cavity. At length, close beside a slab of trachyte against which the
water was dashing furiously, he thought he could descry something.

Taking advantage of every prominent bit of rock he carefully let
himself down, and he was fortunate enough to succeed in reaching the
mass of trachyte. He found its surface uneven enough to give firm
foothold, and at length he found some natural steps by which he could
venture to descend to the water's edge. And when he got there--there
was his Anna, quite unconscious! She had, in her drowning agony,
clutched at the rugged face of the rock. The lower part of her body
lay floating about in the water; but her head was resting on her arm,
which encircled one of the out-jutting pieces of stone.

Charles seized her, he grasped her waist and tried to drag her up
against the face of the boulder. The tide was rising and he had need
to make haste; for every moment it seemed more probable that Anna
would be washed away by the back-rushing waves. By dint of putting
forth all his strength, Charles at length succeeded in dragging her
to the upper surface of the slab, and then he sat down beside her. He
took off his coat and spread it out upon the stone to make his Anna as
comfortable a resting place as he could. Her head was resting on his
lap and, in that position, he allowed her for awhile quietly to rest.

A single glance around had satisfied van Nerekool of the fact that
the highest tides had never reached the top of the block of stone,
and that therefore they were, as far as the sea was concerned, in a
place of safety.

With his handkerchief he gently wiped away the sea-water from her pale
countenance, and he took a strange delight in spreading out upon his
knees her luxuriant mass of black-hair as if to dry it. He knew also
that it would be worse than useless to try and get out of the cave
before low water, the violence of the waves was too great to admit
of any such hope. But, he thought, that, at dead-low water it might
be possible to reach the ladder which was still tossing about in the
entrance of the cave. By that time he had no doubt that Anna would have
regained consciousness, and he knew she could swim. Then once on the
ladder--However! he thought, time will bring counsel! Thus musing he
gazed down at the beautiful girl who lay there helpless on his knees,
Murowski, he thought, and Grenits would surely do something to come
to the rescue.

It was indeed a critical moment in the young man's life. There,
stretched out before him, lay the one being who was dearer to him
than all the earth, the one being whom he adored with all the power of
his soul, the one being who had robbed him of sleep and deprived him
of rest, whose dear image was always and everywhere floating before
him. The one human being whom he longed for, whom he yearned to call
his own, with all the passionate eagerness and all the tenderness of
his impulsive nature.

Anna, in her Javanese dress, was covered only by her sarong and
kabaja. The slendang, which had served as her head-dress, she had
lost in her descent down the ladder. This extremely primitive costume,
made of the lightest and most flimsy materials, was now wet through;
and there lay the poor girl unconscious on the lap of her lover,
who was suffering torments which might fitly have found a place in
Dante's Inferno.

The dim twilight and the finely divided spray which hung all around
seemed to bathe that virgin form in a kind of mystic ether and imparted
to the entire scene something weird and sublime.

Slowly--very slowly--time rolled on--too slowly for poor Charles
van Nerekool.

Meanwhile the water no longer rose, and the turn of the tide was
beginning to be felt. Every wave which rushed in, roared and boiled
and foamed just as did the former one; but yet the water did not
reach quite so high, nor did the waves rage so furiously.

But, hours would have to elapse before Charles could venture to make
for the opening.

"Oh, if Anna would but awake," sighed van Nerekool, who, not for an
instant, had moved his eyes from the beloved object, "oh, that she
would awake! In her own presence she would find a much more powerful
protector than in me!"

His prayer was heard. Still insensible, Anna mechanically made an
attempt to wipe away some drops of water from her brow. Charles
tried to assist her in this, he tried to put up his handkerchief;
but in doing so he had stooped and his hot feverish breath fell on
the face and neck of the girl.

This startled Anna and, at length, she opened her eyes. She turned
her head, she looked about inquiringly, not able to make out where
she was; presently her eye fell upon Charles.

With a loud scream she made an effort to start up, "You, you here?" she
exclaimed, and again she tried to rise and run away.

But van Nerekool gently put his arm round her waist, and drew her to
his breast:

"Anna," said he, "dearest Anna, do take care, do be quiet--you will
slip down--the sea is still much too high."

"You here!" she cried half-dazed, "I shall--I will--" And once again
she attempted to wrench herself out of his arms.

"Anna," said he soothingly, "do be quiet, do be prudent! the rock is
wet and slippery. Be careful, you are yet in great danger."

His voice was so low and he spoke so tenderly, that the young girl
gave up her wild attempt. But when her eye fell upon her own person
and she discovered in what a state she was lying in the young man's
arms, she once again tried to shake herself free. The sea-water had
washed the stain off her face, and the bright scarlet blush was now
plainly visible as she cast down her eyes in dire distress.

"Leave me, Charles," she stammered in confusion, "do leave me!"

But he only clasped her tighter to his heart, and covered her face
with burning kisses.

"Anna, I love you--Anna, I have found you again!" he exclaimed,
passionately, "and never, never again shall I leave you."

"But, Charles, do have pity on me," pleaded the poor girl in faltering
accents, as she again strove to free herself from his embrace,
"yours I can, I may--never be."

"Anna," cried he huskily, as he pressed her closer and closer still
to his breast.

She probably misunderstood his action--at all events she continued
very, very sadly: "No, Charles, your wife I can never be--and--oh,
you love me too well, do you not?--to have any other thoughts."

The poor girl said these words in a voice so unutterably sad that van
Nerekool felt at once that he had unwittingly wounded her modesty. At
once he released her, though he still kept his arm round her waist.

"But, Anna," said he, "why should you not become my wife?"

"No, never!" replied she resolutely. "Not then, and not now. I have
given you my reason very fully. Now let me go."

"But, Anna," he persisted, "since that time circumstances have
entirely changed."

"What circumstances?" she asked, looking up anxiously in the young
man's face.

"Why, now your father and mother are dead--"

"What? father and mother dead?" exclaimed the poor girl, before the
word had fairly left his lips.

He nodded assent. Anna covered her face with both hands and sobbed
convulsively.

It was a very strange scene down there in that gloomy cave. Those
two young people--one of them in his shirt sleeves--the other in
her wet sarong and kabaja, indeed, one might say, scarcely dressed
at all--sitting there side by side on a bare slab of rock. She with
her face buried in her hands and sobbing as if her heart would break,
he gazing down eagerly and lovingly upon her, striving, as it were,
to fathom the thoughts which were rising in that maiden breast,
and upon which he felt that his happiness depended.

"But, can it be true?" said she at last amidst the sobs which
convulsively shook her entire frame, "can it be true? Oh, Charles,
you could not be cruel enough to invent such a story. Charles, Charles,
what am I to believe?"

"Anna, dearest Anna, what do you think of me? do you really think
me capable of thus trifling with your most sacred feelings. Indeed,
you are misjudging me, Anna."

She kept on weeping bitterly and was inconsolable. He gently drew her
to him, trying to comfort her in her distress. And now she offered no
resistance; but she rather nestled up to his breast. Now that she was
an orphan, and that she knew she was alone in the world, she sought
for protection with the man whom she had always faithfully loved.

"Both dead," she kept repeating again and again, "what did they
die of? Oh, tell me how it happened! You have come straight from
Santjoemeh, and you must know all about it."

"No, my love, on the contrary I know just nothing at all. When I left
Santjoemeh both your parents were in excellent health and spirits. On
the very morning when I set out with Grenits--"

"With Grenits?" asked Anna, "Theodoor Grenits? Is he with you here?"

"Yes, my love, he is--but, as I was saying, when we started, on that
very morning Mr. and Mrs. van Gulpendam set out for Soeka maniesan."

"Soeka maniesan?" inquired Anna, "what place may that be?"

"It is a sugar factory situated in the extreme east of the Residence
of Santjoemeh. It was not until after we had reached Gombong that we
received tidings of the sad event. A telegram."

And then, in as few words as he could, he told the poor girl all he
knew. It was not much and amounted simply to the fact that both the
Resident and his wife had been murdered by a band of robbers. The
letter in which van Rheijn promised to give further details was,
no doubt, at that moment waiting for them at Gombong. When he had
told Anna all he knew, van Nerekool paused for a few moments. He
wished to give the poor girl time to recover, in some measure,
from the terrible blow that had so suddenly fallen upon her. She
was literally overwhelmed with sorrow and sat leaning up against
him weeping bitterly. Her nature had but little in common with
that of her parents. She herself had brought about the parting--of
her own free will she had left her parents' roof, with the settled
determination of never returning to it again. But now, death had
stepped in--death had made that parting irrevocable--death had made a
reunion impossible--and now, all her affections at once flew back to
the beings to whom she owed her life. Now she clean forgot all the
dreary past, she clean forgot all that was bad, only to remember,
with the greater tenderness, whatever had been kind and good. Yes,
she was, indeed and in truth, deeply affected, and, had it been in
her power, she would have laid down her life to undo the past.

While they were sitting thus the ebb tide had fairly set in, and
the water was beginning rapidly to draw back. Every successive wave,
as it rushed into the cave, was less violent and retreated also more
quietly. That went on until the fury of the water had entirely abated,
and presently they were merely ripples that entered the Goewah Temon.

"Now, my dearest Anna," said van Nerekool, anxious to break the silence
and to lead her thoughts into another channel, "now it is time to move,
or else we might be surprised by another tide."

She raised her head and looked about her. When she saw that the sea
was calm she also felt that no time was to be lost. She wiped away
her tears.

"Yes," said she, "we must get out of this place; but, can you
swim? For, you see, the water which is standing in the mouth of the
cave yonder is much too deep to wade through. Yes? Then that is all
right--there is no fear--we shall soon get to the ladder."

With these words she prepared to leave the stone on which they had
found a safe resting-place, and was getting ready to slip into the
water; but Charles kept her back, and gently pressing her to him,
he said:

"After the terrible news you have just now heard from me it may not be
right for me to speak of love. But, Anna, I have lately felt so utterly
wretched, and, in these last few moments I have been so unspeakably
happy! Promise me now, in this solemn place and in this solemn hour,
that you will not again try to escape from me."

She looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes, there was an
expression of heart-felt sorrow in her countenance, and she could
not utter a single word.

"All obstacles," continued he, softly whispering in her ear, "are
now removed. You are now your own mistress. Tell me, dearest Anna,
may I hope?"

She turned away her head and laid her hand on his mouth. There was,
in the midst of her sorrow, something playful in the action, and
Charles caught that hand and covered it with kisses.

"Thanks!" he said, "thanks! Oh I know well that just now you can
give me no other answer. Thanks again and again. But Anna, now we
must take to the water, we must be off."

Both were on the point of entering the sea and beginning their perilous
journey, when voices were heard outside the cave. Charles and Anna
looked at one another in surprise; but in another moment they saw
Dalima, Grenits, and Murowski, accompanied by a couple of Javanese,
who--the reader knows in what manner--appeared in a canoe at the
mouth of the cave.

"Great heavens!" exclaimed poor Anna, as she cast a look at her
clothing. "And I in this wet dress!"

She blushed scarlet as she saw the sarong and kabaja clinging to her
limbs. She felt, moreover, that Charles was gazing at her; and this
only augmented her confusion. Charles, however, took up the coat on
which she had been seated and offered it to her as a covering.

Meanwhile the little boat had been coming up and Grenits and Murowski,
and especially Dalima, were beside themselves with joy when they
found that the friends, whom they had given up for lost, were alive
and well. The loerah of the dessa Ajo had flung a couple of sarongs
into his boat before starting, to wrap up the bodies in, he had said,
so certain was he that the pair must have perished. But, these two
garments now came in very handy. Anna was able to wrap herself well
in them, and in this Dalima was eager to help her. Then she stepped
into the boat. In a few minutes they had left the Goewah Temon and,
two hours later, Anna, Dalima, van Nerekool, Grenits and Murowski
were safely and comfortably seated together in the little house on
the slope of the Goenoeng Poleng.

At that meeting, plans for the future were very speedily determined
upon, and the sun had scarcely reached the zenith, before Anna
and Dalima were seated, each in a litter, and were on their way to
Karang Anjer. The gentlemen formed the escort to the two litters;
and a very formidable escort they looked, armed, as they were, with
their fowling pieces.

At the house of the Steenvlaks Anna met with the most cordial
reception. There she determined to remain until--Well, yes! until
the days of her mourning were passed.

After all this had been properly settled the young men returned to
Gombong. Theodoor and Charles at once went to the captain who was
in command there, to take leave of him and to thank him for having
granted their friend Murowski leave to accompany them.

"Well, gentlemen," cried the bluff but kind-hearted soldier as he
caught sight of them, "have you had any luck?"

"Oh yes," cried Grenits, "we have had splendid success!"

"That is right, I am glad to hear it. And did you get any good
specimens?"

"Glorious specimens, captain!" exclaimed Murowski, roguishly,
"splendid specimens! Why, amongst others we have had the luck to
catch a magnificent, a unique butterfly--a puella formosa."

"Very good, I wish you luck with the little beast, but for heaven's
sake don't bother me with your Latin."

Even van Nerekool could not refrain from laughing as he thought of
the little butterfly they had captured.

Fourteen months later Anna van Gulpendam and Charles van Nerekool
became man and wife. The wedding took place very simply and without the
slightest display, at the house of Assistant Resident Steenvlak. August
van Beneden and Theodoor Grenits gave away the bride, and Edward
van Rheijn and the Polish doctor Murowski were witnesses for the
bridegroom.

At the conclusion of the marriage ceremony, who should suddenly turn
up but William Verstork. After the death of Resident van Gulpendam,
he had been at once recalled to Santjoemeh where his merits were well
known and where he was highly esteemed. No one expected to see him
at the wedding; for a telegram had brought the news that the steamer
in which he travelled from Batavia had run ashore and had stuck fast
somewhere about Tegal. But, when he found that getting the ship off
the shallows would be a long business, Verstork had left her and
gone ashore, and then had posted all the way to Karang Anjer. He was
determined, at any cost, to be present at his friend's wedding. But,
on his journey, he had been unavoidably delayed, and thus came too late
to take part in the actual ceremony, though in ample time to join, on
that auspicious day, in the warm congratulations which were showered
on the young couple. Yes, if ever there were hearty congratulations
and sincere good wishes they were indeed those which the young people
received from the friends who, in the absence of nearer relations on
either side, were then gathered around them.

After the wedding, Mr. and Mrs. van Nerekool started for Tjilatjap
intending there to take the boat to Batavia where van Nerekool had
obtained a judicial appointment. The others returned to their own
spheres of work. Murowski remained at Gombong and the others went to
Santjoemeh and resumed their everyday duties.

But all of them, to a man, were animated with one resolution and had
determined that thenceforward it should rule all their actions. And
that resolution was, to carry on war--implacable war--war à outrance
against the horrors of the opium traffic. If they could only succeed in
abolishing the fatal system of opium farming--if they could but succeed
in preventing that poison from being forced upon the population,
then they felt assured that abuse of opium would soon cease to be
a curse of the fair island of Java; and that the opium-fiend would
soon lose his power.

And now we conclude with the person who gives her name to this book.

We must tell our readers that a few months after baboe Dalima had
found those whom she loved so faithfully and so well in the cave of
the Karang Bollong mountain range, she became the mother of a dead
child. That had been a great blow to her; for, in spite of the foul
outrage of which she had been the victim, her warm little heart had
eagerly looked forward to the advent of the little stranger. She had
so looked forward to love the poor little thing. Oh, how tenderly
she would have nursed it, how she would have fondled it and caressed
it--as perhaps no other mother had ever done before her. Such were
her dreams. She had already prepared its cradle. Not such a thing as
we cold Western folk understand by the word; no, no, it was a very
simple little basket, woven by her own fingers out of bamboo. But that
little crib she had made so cosy, so comfortable; she had furnished
it with the softest cushions and wrapped round it the best of her
sarongs to keep away the mosquitoes by night and ward off the sun's
rays by day. It would be a little nest which she would hang up in the
front gallery of the small cottage in which she meant to take up her
abode, and, as she softly would rock it to and fro she would play on
the gambang and lull her little bird to sleep with her low sweet song.

Now, all that happiness was gone! The fatigue, the exertion which she
had undergone, and all the anxieties of the terrible events through
which she had passed; the dreadful suspense at the Goewah Temon in
which she had so nearly lost her darling Nana, had proved too much
for her.

Yes, she had been very very sad; but time heals even the deepest
wounds. And then, after all, she was with her Nana and she intended
to remain with her to her latest breath. She had travelled with Anna
to Batavia, and there she settled down to be the baboe of the little
van Nerekools who, she fervently hoped, would bless the union of
her friends.

And anyone who knows the faithful affection with which the Javanese
do attach themselves to their masters, if the latter will but treat
them with anything like fairness and kindness, must feel certain that
baboe Dalima will remain faithful to her trust until


                                THE END.










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