When our new acquaintance had exhausted his expressions of gratitude to Kati, and gratified his spite upon the body of the dead reptile, he told us that he was a servant of the Chief of Yugyacarta, who had sent him to the coast with a message to the captain of a Chinese junk. At this information, Kati’s eyes became lighted up with pleasure.
“Truly,” said he, “this is fortunate; for it is to that great chief thy servant is now proceeding, on a mission with his captain. Will my brother,” he added, “cut short his journey, and lead his servant to the great man, for after quitting the river, the road to the town is long and intricate?”
“Is it possible, under heaven, that a man who has been saved from the jaws of a man-eater can deny aught to his preserver?”
“Hilloa, Kati!” asked the curious Martin, “what business can you have with the Chief of Yugyacarta?”
“My master’s business, oh sahib, and therefore to be disclosed only at his command,” was the quiet reply.
“You are well answered, Mr. Curious,” said I; “but, Kati, how long will you be absent? Shall we await your return?”
“Let the sahibs remain until the buffalo returns to his pasture (sundown), and their servant will be grateful; but let them not wait after the sun has gone, for the captain will be in fear that misfortune has overtaken them.”
So saying, Kati and the stranger entered the latter’s boat and pulled up the stream.
“Bother!” exclaimed Martin, “upon what errand is that fellow going to the chief? More mystery—I don’t like it.”
“Nonsense, Martin; there is no mystery that Prabu will not explain when we return on board. As for Kati, you cannot blame him for being faithful to his master; but now let us beat the jungle for a week’s rations.”
“Well, old fellow, perhaps, after all, you are right, so let us lose no more time,” he replied.
Then, having secured the sampan to the stump of a tree, we shouldered our rifles, and soon entered the forest. For several hours we wandered stealthily, for fear of tigers, among huge trees, luxuriant palms, and the teak (the oak of Java, the only island of the Archipelago in which it abounds).
The teak, like the oak, takes from eighty to a hundred years to reach maturity, rising then to a height of eighty or a hundred feet, and having a girth of from five to eight feet. Anent this monarch of the Indian forest and “the brave old oak,” Crawford writes, “It is singular, that among the innumerable varieties of woods which exist in both worlds, from the Arctic Circle to the Equator, two only—the oak and the teak—should, by their strength, durability, and abundance, be fit for the higher purposes of the arts, domestic and naval architecture, and the fabrication of great machinery. The geographical distribution of the oak has a wider limit than the teak. It exists in Europe, Asia, and America, to within ten degrees of the Tropics. The teak exists in Asia only, in the countries lying between China and Persia, within the Tropics—being found but in the southern peninsula of India, in India beyond the Ganges to the confines of China, and in the island of Java.
“In comparing the qualities of the two woods, those of the teak will be found considerably to preponderate. It is equally strong as the oak, and somewhat more buoyant; its durability is more uniform and decided; and to insure that durability, it demands less care and preparation, for it may be put in use almost green from the forest, without danger of dry or wet rot. It is fit to endure all climates and alternations of climate; the oak, on the contrary, cracks and is destroyed by such alternations, and particularly by exposure to the rays of a tropical sun. The oak contains an acid, which corrodes and destroys iron; the teak not only has no such acid, but even contains an essential oil, which tends to preserve iron. The great superiority of the oak over the teak consists in its utility in the fabrication of vessels for holding liquids. The strong odor which the teak imparts to all liquids which are solvents of the essential oil in which that odor is contained, makes it unfit to be used for holding them. It makes good water-casks, but is unfit for wine, or any spirit but arrack, to which it imparts some of that peculiar flavor which some persons affect to relish. Another noteworthy forest tree is the nipah, or atap palm, whose leaves afford the natives thatching for their house-roofs and matting for their floors, and from the sap of which is extracted a drinkable wine.”
Then we had to beat through bushes of the prickly rattan-cane, so well known to my readers, but used, in the Archipelago, for ligature and cordage, and possessing a fruit of the size of a pullet’s egg. Then through little forests of the bamboo, whose uses are so numerous that they may be mentioned as commencing with the cradle and ending with the grave; for it helps to form the first and yields the material for the last human garment.
Well, near sundown, or, as a Javanese would say, “the hour when the buffalo is brought back from the pastures,” we returned to the sampan with a tolerably successful bag of game—namely, a young fawn and a dozen birds, chiefly partridges and a species of wood-pigeon.
“Not bad sport, Martin,” said I, as we tossed the game into the boat.
“No—and the sooner we reach the prahu now the better; for in another hour or so, when the beasts of the forest come down to the river to take their evening draught, the crocodiles will be out in swarms.”
“Shall we wait no longer for Kati?”
“No—it would be useless,” replied Martin. “But, hilloa!” he exclaimed, “who have we here?”
“A footsore traveler, Martin—that you can easily see by his limp,” said I; but the next minute the stranger, who was a Chinese, and, from his broken Dutch, I thought, of the poorer class of the traders of the Campong, cried:
“For the love of Fo, and their own God, let not the noble youths put off their sampan, till they have heard the sad story of the wretched Si-Ling!”
“I don’t like these Chinese fellows. Shall we push off?” said my brother.
“For shame, Martin! Let us at least hear what he has to say.”
At which the Chinese, taking courage, said:
“Know then, oh noble youth, that thy servant, the miserable and insignificant Si-Ling, two moons since left Batavia to go to Yugyacarta, where he has since lived with his wife and two children; but, alas! the jungle-fever seized and carried his whole family to the yellow stream (i. e., they had died by fever) three days since. Overcome with grief thy servant started this morning at daybreak in a sampan to reach the coast, where he hoped to find some junk or prahu, whose noble captain would take him back to Batavia; but, alas! thy slave chose an unfortunate day, for when within two leagues of this spot he was surprised by robbers, who, enticing him ashore, took from him his worldly goods and sampan—leaving him, as the noble youths may see, with naught but a bag of fruits.” Then, with a deep groan, he threw the latter, which had been suspended by a string round his neck, upon the bank.
“But, Mr. Si-Ling,” said Martin, “you have not told us how you got your living in Yugyacarta; and we must know that; for if, as an honest trader or laborer, we will take you with us; if, as a vagabond—and you look more like that than anything else—well, you will have to sleep under a palm, and tramp it in the morning.”
“Know then, oh noble youth, that Si-Ling is a great scholar, and the son of a scholar; for his worthy parent was a mandarin of letters, and a member of the college of Han-Lin, at Pekin: thus thy servant is learned in history, and having studied that of Java since he has been here, relates stories to the nobles who seek amusement.”
“A professional story-teller, then?” said I.
“The noble youth has divined aright: his servant, Si-Ling, is of the noble profession of story-tellers.”
“More likely of the ignoble profession of rogues, if there be any truth in physiognomy,” whispered Martin—adding: “Well, Mr. Si-Ling, get in, and stow yourself away in the stern; and as we float down the stream—for, as the tide having turned, we don’t want the oars—you may give us a taste of your quality.”
“May the bones of the noble youths rest with those of their ancestors, and their descendants ever piously keep their tombs well swept, and strewn with fresh flowers!” replied the Chinese, getting into the sampan.
“Much obliged,” replied Martin, laughing. “You are kind, and we are grateful; nevertheless, we are in no hurry for anything half so good.”
When, however, we had put off, and were floating down the stream, he said:
“Now, my friend, for a ‘taste of your quality.’ Tell us a story.”
“The noble youths are of the American Republic?” said the Chinese, interrogatively.
“Oh, yes; so go on, and abuse the Dutch as much as you like.”
“The story thy servant will tell is truth, and shows even how early the Dutch influence in Java began to change the Javanese princes from lions into wolves. The great Susunan Mangkorat, having entered into a treaty with the Dutch, greatly to the injury of his people and nobles, a certain chief, named Truna Jaya, rose in rebellion against him, with the hope only of being able to rescue his royal master from his false friends, the Hollanders; but Truna, being unfortunate, was defeated, and compelled to fly to the mountains of Antang. There he remained with a few of his faithful followers, until, reduced by want, he was glad to make overtures of surrender. These were accepted; but Truna, doubtful of the Susunan’s good faith while under the influence of the Dutch, refused to leave his fastness until better assurance of his safety had been given. Accordingly, his own uncle, the Prince of Madura, accompanied by a Dutch officer, was sent to beguile him. The unhappy prince then appeared before the monarch, bound with cords, and with his wives, who were the Susunan’s own sisters. The Susunan, pretending to be affected by the agony of his sisters, pardoned his brother-in-law, and promised to give him preferment; and great was the joy of the family of Truna, while he went to change his garment for one in which alone he could receive favors from his sovereign. But guess, oh, noble youths, the horror of the princesses, when, upon their husband’s return into the royal presence, the Susunan cried:
“‘My brother, Truna Jaya, when I was at Tagal I made a vow that this, my creese—Blaba—should never be sheathed until in your breast.’
“On these words the nobles brought the unhappy man to the foot of the throne, from whence the Susunan, rising, stabbed him to the heart; and then commanded every noble to strike his creese into his body. The corpse being thus mangled, the Susunan arose again, crying in a loud voice:
“‘Let his heart be devoured.’
“The chiefs, obedient, rushed upon the body again, and, tearing out the heart, divided it into fragments of a nail’s breadth, devouring it accordingly. The head they laid at the foot of the throne, but it was afterwards carried in procession before the Susunan; and when he retired at night to rest, he used it as a mat to wipe his feet upon. To such a demon,” concluded the Chinese, “had the vile Hollanders changed a prince of Java!”
“The savage beast!” exclaimed my brother; “but where were the civilized Dutch all this time?”[B]
“Standing with arms folded, looking upon the scene; and that, too, oh, noble youth, although their generals had pledged their knightly honor for Truna’s safety.”
“It is a horrible tale, and almost impossible to believe,” said I; nevertheless, it was gospel truth.
“It is but one of many, many incidents in the history of this land, that has sown hatred in the hearts of its people to the Dutch,” replied the Chinese; “but,” he added, “before thy servant relates another story, he prays of the noble youths to partake of this fruit—it is fresh-gathered.”
And, oh! how our eyes sparkled, as he brought from his bag some slices of that most delicious of all known fruits, a mangosteen. This fruit, it is said, meets the approbation of persons of the greatest diversity of tastes in other matters—whether that diversity arises from peculiarity of constitution or from national habits and antipathies. It is mildly acid, and has an extreme delicacy of flavor, without being luscious or cloying. In external appearance it has the look of a ripe pomegranate, but is smaller and more completely globular. A thick rind, hard on the outside, but soft and succulent within, incloses large seeds or kernels, surrounded by a soft, semi-transparent, snow-white pulp, now and then having a very slight crimson blush. This pulp is the edible part of the fruit, and persons in robust health may, without prejudice, eat a much larger quantity of it than of any other.
And as we had been some time without refreshment, we partook of this mangosteen to an extent that would have been injurious with any other fruit.
“Well,” said Martin, “this is refreshing after that horrible story; but proceed, Mr. Si-Ling—let us have another; of course, it will not be to the advantage of the Dutch.”
“It will not,” replied the Chinese; “but the noble youth shall judge for himself:—
“Since the earliest coming of the Dutch into Java, it has been their policy to set the native princes by the ears, and then take advantage of the internecine quarrels to increase their own power. Sometimes they would dethrone one sovereign and place a rival in his seat. One of the princes so raised to the throne was the Pangeran of Pugar. Now, the Prince of Sourabaya, Jayeng Rono, was his dearest friend and most confidential adviser, as also was the Prince of Madura. Unfortunately, Jayeng Rono fell under the displeasure of the Dutch—either, it is supposed, because he had thwarted some of their ambitious designs, or was wanting in subserviency. However, be that as it may, the Dutch general one day sent to the Susunan, demanding his life might be taken.
“The poor sovereign, who had not long before lost his friend, the Prince of Madura, almost paralyzed with astonishment and terror, exclaimed:
“‘What! I have already lost my right hand; would these Hollanders also take my left? No—it shall not be.’
“Then, without giving an answer to the Dutch—for he feared to offend them—he dispatched a messenger at once to his friend, who was absent from the capital, Cartasura, informing him that the Dutch demanded his life, but that, if he chose to resist, he should be secretly aided and abetted. The noble-minded Jayeng Rono, however, clearly foreseeing that resistance would involve the ruin, not only of himself, but of his whole family, came to the disinterested resolution of sacrificing his own life to secure the safety of his friends and relations, and therefore at once repaired to Cartasura to meet his fate. Here he had many sad audiences with the Susunan. The latter, finding Jayeng would not fly, promised to protect his family, and complied with his request to appoint his brother to the place left vacant by his death. At length, the warrant for the prince’s execution came from Batavia. The Susunan summoned him to the palace, and as, without a retainer, the old man (for Jayeng Rono was very old) entered the courtyard, he was met by the public executioner, who dispatched him upon the spot. So terrible, oh, noble youths, has been the tyranny and oppression of the Dutch in Java!” concluded the Chinese, but, as I thought, with a curious leer in his eyes.
“Horrible!” said I; “but, Martin, I feel unaccountably sleepy.”
“So do I,” replied my brother, with a yawn; “the—the mangosteen hasn’t agreed with us.”
As for me, I could barely keep my ears open to listen to the concluding part, or rather epilogue to the historiette, which ran thus:—
“But, oh, noble youths, the wicked are always punished, in this world or the next; so the murder of Jayeng Rono was fearfully avenged. The most formidable and destructive rebellion which has ever been known in the East broke out. Joyopuspito, brother to the deceased chief, accepted of his office, but only to use the influence which it afforded him for revenge. He subdued all the districts in his vicinity—called to his assistance the people of Bali—was joined by the Madurese, and by several rebel princes of the House of Martaram; so that this formidable insurrection only terminated by his death, in the succeeding reign, after desolating the country for a great many years. The Chief of Sourabaya, in the many actions which he fought with the Dutch, and in all his proceedings, displayed so much enterprise, spirit, and conduct, that, but for the superior equipments and military science of the Europeans, he must have acquired the sovereignty of the island.”