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.