A royal smuggler

When, after a three weeks’ run along the coast, we arrived at the mouth of the River Progo—which, rising in the mountains of Kadu, in the interior of Java, empties itself into the sea at Martaram—we found it necessary to ship fresh water; and for that purpose three men, with a sampan and several empty casks, were ordered by Prabu to proceed up the stream. Then my brother and I were positively suffering for want of animal food. I say my brother and I, because the only provisions the natives cared about were rice, fish, and water; nay, so abstemious are these people, that it is a common boast among them that when necessary, as in the case of troops in the field, they can live upon the leaves of trees alone. Thus it was that, when Martin found the sampan crew were going up the river, he said:

“Claud, old fellow, we shall get as thin as weasels if we don’t soon get something better than rice and fish to live upon. What say you to going with these fellows, and trying our rifles among the game in the interior, or at least along the banks?”

“Nothing I should like better. I will persuade Prabu to give us permission.” But the latter required no persuasion; for not only did he give us leave, but a sampan to ourselves, and Kati, who had been a mighty hunter in his native isle, for our guide and mentor.

Taking advantage of this, in an hour or two we were pulling up the river to get beyond the tide; which, by the way, being at the flood, much lessened our labor, for, merely resting upon our oars, we were swept rapidly up the stream without any exertion of our own.

When we arrived at the spot where the water was to be obtained, we told the crew of the other sampan to fill their casks and return to the prahu without waiting for us; then, by Kati’s advice, we proceeded up the river, until we had reached within, as he believed, a few leagues of the ancient city of Yugyacarta. Here we landed, and, having secured our boat to the trunk of one of the thousand mangrove-trees along the banks, advanced into the jungle, preceded by Kati, who beat the path for us; but, as we left the river further and further in our rear, I began to have some misgivings as to our safety.

“Suppose,” I said, “we should beat up a tiger, Martin?”

“Well,” he replied, quite coolly, “suppose we do, we shall have to shoot the fellow, that’s all!”

“Hilloa! what have we here?” he exclaimed, discharging his rifle into a flock of some thirty or forty birds, which rose and flew through the foliage of the trees. Looking up, my eyes were dazzled by the wonderful effect of the sun upon their plumage: never had I seen so beautiful a sight.

“Sahib, they are God’s birds,” said Kati.

“God’s birds!” I repeated, picking up two that had fallen. “They are birds of paradise, Martin.”

“Birds of paradise!” he repeated, examining the wondrous beauty of their plumage. “What a pity I have killed them! However, it can’t be helped—we must keep them for specimens. But I wonder how they came here. I have always heard that they are only to be found in Papua and the Moluccas.”

“Have got away, sahib, from some prahu wrecked upon the coast.”

“More likely they have escaped from the aviary of some native prince. But,” said I, as we walked on, “do you remember the queer stories we used to read at school about these beautiful creatures, Martin?”

“No.”

“Well then—how that they puzzled all the learned, who declared that they were inhabitants of air, living upon the dews of heaven, and never resting below?”

“Well, Claud, there was good reason for the supposition; for I do recollect having read that all the earlier specimens brought to Europe were without feet.”

“Aye, but that originated with the natives of the Moluccas, who, although savages, were very cunning. For instance, descrying the great admiration Europeans had for the beauty of their plumage, and knowing the high prices they would pay for them, before bringing the birds to market they cut off their feet—which, as you see, are ugly, and their only deformity. One deceit led to another. The purchaser, finding the birds without legs, naturally inquired after those members, and the seller, as naturally, began to assert that they had none. Thus far the European was imposed upon by others—in all the rest he imposed upon himself. Seeing so beautiful a bird without legs, he concluded that it could live only in air, where legs were unnecessary. The extraordinary splendor of its plumage assisted this deception; and as it had heavenly beauty, so was it asserted to have a heavenly residence; hence its name, and all the false reports that have been propagated concerning it.”

“But how do the natives catch them?” asked Martin.

“By concealing themselves in the trees where they resort; and having covered themselves up from sight in a bower made of the branches, they shoot at the birds with arrows made of reeds; and, as they assert, if they happen to kill their king, they then have a good chance of killing the greatest part of the flock. The chief mark by which they know the king is by the end of the feathers in his tail, which have eyes like those of a peacock. When they have taken a number of these birds their usual method is to gut them and cut off their legs; they then run a hot iron into the body, which dries up the internal moisture, and, filling the cavity with salt and spices, they sell them to Europeans.”

“Stay—listen, Claud; there is some great beast near,” cried my brother, interrupting me, and at the same time bringing his rifle to the “present.”

I trembled, but followed his example, keeping my finger upon the trigger; nearly a hundred yards before us—(we were just then ourselves in a cleared space amongst tall grass)—the rattans in the jungle bent and crackled, and soon the head of the new-comer presented itself.

“Big pig, sahib; don’t both shoot at once,” cried Kati, drawing his creese.

“Martin,” I said, “be wary and cool; aim between the eyes, and I will reserve my fire in case you miss.”

On came piggy, not with a run, but at a gentle, ambling pace, coolly and defiantly looking us in the face—so gently, indeed, that with patience we might have bagged him; but before he advanced more than a dozen yards, my impulsive brother fired, exclaiming, “There’s a dead pig for you!”

But not so: the bullet, passing through his neck, did but arouse the animal, making it change its trot into a charge.

“Load quickly, Martin,” cried I, at the same time sending a bullet that hit the pig in the forehead, and sent him over, snorting, grunting, and fruitlessly endeavoring to get upon his legs again.

“Bravo, Claud—a capital shot! but now let us put the poor brute out of his misery.”

“No, sahib—not hurry,” cried Kati; “pig gore you with his tusks—he only sham being so bad he can’t stand.” And with his sarong—which he had taken off and bound tightly round his left arm—and creese in hand, he ran towards the animal; but when within a couple of yards of it, he suddenly came to a dead halt, and there stood as if terror-stricken. But so were we, for we saw rise from amongst the tall grass to the height of a man, a huge liboya (a species of boa-constrictor common to Java); and there for a moment it remained, putting forth its forked tongue, and glaring at pig and man, as if undecided upon which to spring. A grunt or cry of terror, however, from the former settled the matter, for the reptile instantly fell upon the pig and began to twine itself around him, crushing his bones.

“There goes a month’s rations for the whole crew,” said Martin.

“Not if I can help it;” and, taking a good aim, I fired, but, missing the head, the bullet passed through its neck. The huge reptile now uncoiled itself from the pig, and began to strike his tail around with the rapidity and power of a scythe mowing grass by steam—sending the mud, sand, and dirt about in showers.

“Sahibs, go not near snake, but fire again; while I go and get rope from sampan.”

“What on earth does he want with the rope?” said Martin. But Kati had disappeared, and I was too much engaged to reply, for I was reloading my rifle. That being done, I again fired and hit the serpent. This shot, however, only excited its fury the more and caused it to raise such a whirlwind of dust and mud, that, to avoid being blinded, we were compelled to retreat some distance.

“Now,” said Martin, when the reptile had become quiet, and the dust allayed; “let us send a volley.”

This we did, and effectively, for both bullets passed through its head.

“Bravo, Claud! we have saved our bacon—or pork; the snake is dead,” cried Martin, advancing towards the carcass of the pig.

“Not so—if you value your life, remain where you are,” I replied; for I saw that the reptile, notwithstanding its mortal wounds, was writhing and twisting about in such a manner as to be dangerous for any person to approach it. Kati, however, who now came running up to us, carrying a rope with a noose at one end, had no such fears. Going within a few yards, and handling it as dextrously as an American of the prairies would a lasso, he by one throw sent it over the head.

“Now, sahibs, pull tight—choke snake, and we draw him to sampan.”

“What for?” asked Martin, in astonishment. “It is the pig we want in the sampan, not this brute of a snake.”

“Sahib, yes—he not dead yet—we fasten rope to sampan—then drag him ’bout till no more ’live.”

“But that’s no answer,” replied Martin; “let him die here. What do we want with it on board the boat? Let’s take the pig.”

“Come, come, Martin,” I said, “let us humor Kati; he is a native, and understands what he is about.”

“Well, let us secure the pig first, and I will help you,” he replied, proud of his first game, and fearing to be robbed by some wild beast.

We complied, and by our united efforts hauled the snake to the river’s edge; then, fastening the rope to the stern, we got into the boat and dragged the reptile, still alive and swimming about in the water like an eel, up to the other sampan, the crew of which, having filled their casks, were about departing. At a word, however, from Kati, one of the men, taking the end of the rope that had been fastened to our sampan, ascended a tree till he reached a forked branch; throwing it over this, he let one end down to his comrades, who then hauled up the snake—some twenty feet in length, and as thick as the body of a boy twelve years of age. Then the man upon the branch, placing a sharp knife between his teeth, began to descend, holding on to the slimy body by means of his legs and one hand, ripping it up and skinning it as he came slowly down. By the time he came to the ground again, he had no pleasant appearance, his mahogany-colored skin being all besmeared with the reptile’s blood. But the result was worth the pains taken to procure it, for in a very short time the natives had emptied one of the casks and re-filled it with the fat, or rather oil—a commodity so marketable that it proved a valuable gift to Prabu.

Having thus shipped our prizes and dispatched them to the prahu, we pulled back in the direction of our hunting-ground, with the intention of looking after other game; for one pig, we knew, would be but a sorry store for the long voyage before us.

“I wish we could just bag a few of those Argus pheasants we used to have at Mynheer’s,” said Martin.

“About as probable as to find the golden pheasant of China!” replied I. “Why, the Argus pheasant is only found in Sumatra.” (Apropos of the common pheasant, my young reader is not perhaps aware that its progenitors were first brought to Europe from the banks of the Pharsis, a river of Colchis, in Asia Minor, and from which they derive their name.) “Besides,” I added, “it would be barbarous indeed to slaughter so beautiful a bird with a rifle-bullet. What would they think of such unsportsmanlike conduct in America?”

“Oh! bother about what they think in America, Claud, when we are dying for want of fresh provisions; still, I admire their beauty as much as you.”

“Aye, brother, just now you would think one very beautiful, especially with bread-sauce.”

“Never mind, Claud; if I can only get sight of one, we will have him, and dressed, too, before we return to the prahu; nevertheless, they are pretty birds. Don’t you remember darling old Goldsmith’s anecdote about their beautiful plumage?”

“Repeat it, Martin, and it will turn you from your barbarous design.”

“Well, then, after telling us that ‘next to the peacock the pheasant is the most beautiful of birds, as well for the nice color of their plumes as for their happy mixtures and variety,’ he says that Crœsus, King of Lydia, being seated upon the throne, adorned with royal magnificence and all the barbaric pomp of Eastern splendor, asked Solon, if he had ever beheld anything so fine? The Greek philosopher, no way moved by the objects before him, or taking a pride in his native simplicity, replied that, after having seen the beautiful plumage of the pheasant, he could be astonished at no other finery.

“There, Claud, you have the anecdote; but what does it prove? Not that Solon did not like them with bread-sauce, but that the old Greek, having a reputation for wisdom, wanted to sustain it by saying a clever thing, or that, in his heart, he looked upon the king’s riches and splendor as the fox did at the grapes—‘they were so much beyond his reach that they must be sour.’ But, hilloa, Kati! what’s a-do now?” he said, as he saw our companion take off his sarong, and bind it tightly around his left arm.

“Hush!” replied the latter, placing his finger upon his lips, and pointing to a small boat, rowed by a single inmate, that had just rounded a bend of the river and was approaching us.

“Well, what matters? He is only one and we are three,” replied Martin, thinking Kati regarded the boatman as some suspicious personage; but when the latter, pointing in the wake of the boat, whispered the word “man-eater,” he trembled indeed, and so did I; for we could now see the long scales, dark, hideous body, and snout of a huge crocodile. The man, too, evidently knew his danger, for he was pulling with might and main to outrun the reptile, knowing that if it once got so far ahead that it could get its tail beneath the boat, he would himself soon fill its jaws.

“What shall we do—what can we do—to help the poor fellow?” I cried.

“Wait till its snout gets a little higher above water, and then send a bullet into him,” said Martin.

“No, no, sahib—not good; man-eater not care for that—his scales like one wall.”

“Well, what then, Kati? I will not sit here and see a human being quietly fall into the jaws of a brute like that, if I can help it.”

“Me help it, sahib; me kill man-eater almost before grow to one man.”

But now our attention became fixed with terrible interest upon the scene before us: the boatman, panting, exerted himself to his utmost, the reptile still following, and evidently gaining upon the boat.

“I should like to put a bit of this salt upon his tail,” said Martin, fingering the lock of his rifle.

“No, no, not good send bullet—may want it if me not kill him,” replied Kati.

“Yes, let us reserve our charges,” said I; but the next instant the crocodile had passed under the boat; there was a wild moan, and man and sampan were some yards in the air; but as soon, almost, as they had again touched the water, Kati, who had leaped from our boat, and was between the boatsman and the reptile, the latter—apparently astonished that a man should be swimming boldly toward instead of from him—rested for an instant. That instant, however, was enough for the brave Kati to compose himself for the coming struggle. We kept our fingers on the triggers, and our rifles in such a position that, should the monster obtain the least advantage over its antagonists, we might send a bullet into its eye, or, if such a fortunate opportunity presented itself, its belly—for, you see, the scales are bullet-proof. Suddenly, the brute opened its huge jaws, a thrill of horror passed through our frames, and on the instant I should have fired but for Martin, who exclaimed—

“Great Heaven! Kati has thrust his arm down the brute’s throat!” and so he had, and immediately afterwards the surface of the water became tinged with black-red blood.

By opening his jaws, the reptile had given his enemy an opportunity, for at once Kati thrust in one arm up to the shoulder, while with the other he had stabbed it in the throat with his creese; and by repeating these blows rapidly, at the same time that the water entered the mouth, the body had swollen to the size of a large tub, and in a few minutes more the eater of men was dead and harmless, and Kati was ashore receiving our congratulations.

The delight of the native whose life had been so miraculously saved was almost frantic: he fell down before Kati, kissed his feet, and clasped his knees; but upon the body of the crocodile—which, when it had floated near the bank, we dragged ashore—he vented the most childish spite, stamping upon it with his feet, calling it the most horrible names, and stabbing it in the belly.

Truly, it was hideous to look upon—by far worse than when in the water. It was a large, double-crested crocodile, of the species common to the rivers of Java, being, from the tip of the snout to the end of the tail, twenty-five feet in length.

I may here remark that, although the feat performed by Kati seemed to us at that time very wonderful, it is one not at all uncommon among the wild tribes of the East; also, that there are many methods of taking the crocodile. For instance, in Siam, in the rivers of which these reptiles swarm, the hunters throw three or four strong nets across a river, at proper distances from each other, so that if the animal breaks through the first it may be caught by one of the others. When first taken it lashes its tail in all directions in its endeavor to escape, but by so doing exhausts its strength; then the natives approach their prisoner in boats, and pierce him with their weapons till it is weakened by loss of blood; they then tie up its mouth, and with the same cord fasten the head to the tail, bending the back like a bow. The animal thus taken is not killed, but brought into subjection by the slaves of Siamese noblemen, who keep them in small lakes in the grounds of their homes for their amusement, and who, it is said, so far tame the reptiles that they can bridle and ride them like horses.