A royal smuggler

Upon his return to the palace, to which place we accompanied him, the Pangeran gave Marie permission to choose her day of departure, further promising to send an escort with her to Batavia.

“That will be as soon as my cousins are prepared to set out,” she replied, quickly.

“Then the day is distant, for the Sahibs dare not—it would be unwise—entrust themselves in Batavia until we hear in what odor they stand with the Dutch Government; but let them rest content beneath this roof until I can send a messenger, who will prove to his Excellency that their association with Prabu and his crew was from accident, not design.”

“Be it distant or near, Prince,” replied Marie, “I will not enter Batavia without them.”

“Be it so,” replied the Pangeran; “in the meantime, let the preservers of my daughter’s life regard themselves as my sons beneath this roof;” and then we parted for the night, waiting until the next day for explanations.

“Now, Marie,” said I, the following morning, when we were all together, “tell us the story of your adventures since our parting.”

“Oh!” she replied, “there is not much to tell. Well, of course I was terribly frightened when that old hunchback, the snake-charmer, entered my room, and, without a word, bandaged my eyes and carried me off; but as we went through the streets of the city, he spoke kindly words, telling me I had no harm to fear if I would not attempt to get away; and I really believe he meant what he said: but when, taking me to a house, and pushing me into a room, he desired me to change my dress for another that I should find at hand, and to be careful to leave also my watch, locket, and purse, I had no doubt that both robbery and murder was his intention, and I prayed and cried, and cried and prayed terribly.”

“I now see how Mynheer came by the jewels and clothes; it was a cunning conspiracy,” said Martin.

“Why, what did he say about them?” she asked.

“He produced them as a proof that you had been drowned, for he told us they had been found in the river,” said I.

“The cruel, bad man! then he was at the bottom of it all: he wanted to get my fortune! But,” she continued, “my fears were groundless, for, as soon as I had changed my attire, he came into the room, and, rebandaging my eyes, led me forth and set me before him upon a horse. In that manner we journeyed many, many miles, till we came to the foot of the mountain, where were several savage-looking men, evidently waiting to receive me, for no sooner did we come up with them than they placed me upon another horse, and so we traveled over mountains, across rivers, and through forests, sometimes sleeping under a small tent, which they carried with them for my sole use, at others in the huts of villages; and thus, after many weeks, we arrived at a large palace, and then I soon began to forget my trouble, for I was introduced into the apartments of that sweet princess, with whom I soon became on the most intimate terms; but, notwithstanding our friendship, she would never (she said she dared not) tell me in what part of Java the palace was situated, to whom it belonged, or for what reason I had been stolen away from home. Well, in that palace I remained many months, being permitted every liberty and luxury within its walls, and those of its gardens, but never being allowed to pass without, or to be in the presence of one of the slaves, whom it might be possible to coax any information from, without the presence of the princess, my friend, or one or two of her devoted attendants. At length one day—not seemingly more than three months since—the Princess told me that her father, the Pangeran, whoever he might be, was about to remove, with the whole of his household, to another palace, some hundreds of miles away. This mattered but little to me, so long as the Princess was with me, for it would be but a change of residence, and so I cheerfully prepared for and set out on the journey. As I expected, when we arrived here, I found but little difference in our mode of life. One day, however, I did manage to elude the vigilance of the Princess and her ladies, and hold a conversation with one of the female slaves. I learned from her two pieces of information: one, that my host or jailer was the Pangeran of Marang; another, that an envoy, a Dutchman, was then in the city, and that, for his Excellency’s amusement, the Pangeran had ordered a tiger-fight. At this news, I, who had become domesticated in the palace, and had not for a long time either thought or desired to escape, began to pant for my liberty—liberty to go back even to that bad home in Batavia. Disguising my real intention, I confessed to the Princess that I had discovered who her father was, and also about the intended tiger-fight. I knew it must be a horrid, dreadful sight, but I thought if I could persuade the Princess to take me with her in her howdah, that we might by chance get near the Dutch envoy; and in such an event, I had fully resolved to beg of him to set me at liberty—to take me back with him to Batavia; but little did I imagine that I should be pleading for liberty to the very man who had taken it from me! Well, so earnestly did I beg of my Princess to let me accompany her, that she consented, and I went; and now I have told you my adventures. They are not very frightful, are they? nor very romantic, either—only a little girl you know kept out of the way while her uncle-in-law could spend all her money!”

“Indeed, dear Marie, I fear it is but too true that he has spent it, for did he not confess that he had ruined you.”

“Then, Martin, I shall have to work for my living, that is all. I will be a governess, or a companion, to one of the Dutch ladies in Batavia.”

“No, Marie,” replied my brother, impatiently, “Claud and I have money; you shall share it, as you have a right: it has been left to us by your father; and then we will all return to America, for you, like ourselves, have many relations there.”

“Martin,” said I, “you forget that we are even now, perhaps, regarded by the Dutch Government as rebels; if so, we have no fortunes; they have been, or will be, confiscated;” and, with a bitter laugh, my brother replied,—

“Let us wait till we hear from Batavia, and don’t prophesy evil, you old witch, for it is sure to come true.”

“Well, then, I now prophesy that, in spite of all dark clouds above us, we shall not be punished as rebels—that our fortunes are not, will not be confiscated.”

“The sahib Claud has prophesied correctly,” said Prabu, who, unobserved by any, had been standing in the doorway some few minutes.

“What mean you, Prabu?” we asked.

“I will read this,” he replied, showing us a letter in the Javanese character.

He did—it was from the friendly Chief or Prince of Mojopahit, containing a warning to Prabu to beware of venturing near any district under the influence of the Dutch Governor-General, as his Excellency had issued a free pardon to all of the followers of Prabu, calling himself the descendant of Surapati. But for Prabu himself another reward, in addition to that already issued, had been offered for his capture or death.

“True,” said Martin, thoughtfully, “if we have ever been counted among the rebels, this includes our pardon; but,” he added, “now more than ever, my brave friend, am I inclined to remain by thy side.”

“Sahib Martin,” replied Prabu, kindly, but firmly, “you must not, shall not remain with one who may be hunted through the length and breadth of Java. You have youth, health, and hope. It may be written that your life shall be long, happy, and prosperous. With Prabu the future is blank. His degenerate countrymen have again made their peace with their enslavers. He has outlived Javan honor and patriotism. But,” he added, fiercely, “the day may and will come when the hated Hollanders shall be driven into the sea. It might have been now—the time was ripe—but for that dog!” Then, his anger lashed to fury, he cried, “Would that he were alive again to fall by my creese!”

“Better,” said I, “that he is no more;” for I knew that he alluded to Ebberfeld.

“The sahib is right—it is,” he replied, in subdued tones; “for had the dog lived another month, he would have betrayed his Highness the Pangeran into the hands of the vile Dutch.”

“But how?” said I; “was he not here for the purpose of cementing firmly the new peace and friendship between the Dutch Government and the Pangeran?”

“That was the supposed purport of his coming; but listen, and you will learn the real object. It was to watch till the Pangeran committed some overt act that might be construed into a just cause for robbing him of his dominions. I tell you, Sahib, this dog Ebberfeld did but join the patriots to worm themselves into our secrets, to fan the rising flame and then to betray them. And if, in the first instance, he was led to join us by his hatred to the Dutch, a ready pardon, and the promise of half the Pangeran’s wealth, was to be his reward for his treachery.”

“But how know you all this?” I asked.

“Partly,” he replied, “from this letter from the Prince of Mojopahit, chiefly from papers found last night in his house. Allah forgive him! his sins were many.”

“Now, Prabu, one question: What reason could you have for keeping secret from us so long our cousin’s whereabouts?”

“It was the Pangeran’s secret, Sahib. He wanted money, and Ebberfeld proposed the abduction of Marie, that he might inherit her fortune. It was a sin, but he has atoned for it—neither has harm nor even discomfort happened to her while under his roof.”

“It was a black business, though,” said Martin. “Nevertheless,” he added, “‘all’s well that ends well,’ and so we will say no more about it. But now, Prabu, you have not told us what you intend doing.”

“Seek service with the truest of Indian islanders, the Rajah of Blilling, in Bali, for he and his race are free men; their soil is unstained by the feet of European conquerors. There will I bide my time, as all must who believe that the day will come when the Dutch hucksters will be driven from Java.”

Reader, I have nearly done. I have only to add that, within a week, laden with presents from the Pangeran, we were on our road to Batavia. Upon our arrival in that city, we found that Madame Ebberfeld, having heard of her husband’s death, had made arrangements to again enter the bonds of matrimony within a week. At this, I may tell you that I was not at all surprised, as it is not at all unusual to find ladies among the Colonists who have married ten or twelve husbands.

In conclusion: By the interest of one of our uncle’s old friends, at the time appointed by his will, we obtained our fortunes.

By way of postscript, perhaps, the reader may like to know that I am even now living under the roof of Mr. and Mrs. Martin Black, and that Marie and her husband spend many a long evening in chatting with their bachelor brother anent our adventures in Java and the Indian Archipelago.

THE END.