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.