PETER GROSS IS NAMED RESIDENT
"Sailor, the penalty for threatening the life of any citizen is penal
servitude on the state's coffee-plantations."
The governor's voice rang harshly, and he scowled across the big table
in his cabinet-room at the _Coryander's_ mate sitting opposite him. His
hooked nose and sharp-pointed chin with its finely trimmed Van Dyke
beard jutted forward rakishly.
"I ask no other justice than your excellency's own sense of equity
suggests," Peter Gross replied quietly.
"H'mm!" the governor hummed. He looked at the _Coryander's_ mate keenly
for a few moments through half-closed lids. Suddenly he said:
"And what if I should appoint you a resident, sailor?"
Peter Gross's lips pressed together tightly, but otherwise he gave no
sign of his profound astonishment at the governor's astounding proposal.
Sinking deeper into his chair until his head sagged on his breast, he
deliberated before replying.
"Your excellency is in earnest?"
"I do not jest on affairs of state, Mynheer Gross. What is your
answer?"
Peter Gross paused. "Your excellency overwhelms me--" he began, but Van
Schouten cut him short.
"Enough! When I have work to do I choose the man who I think can do it.
Then you accept?"
"Your excellency, to my deep regret I must most respectfully decline."
A look of blank amazement spread over the governor's face. Then his eyes
blazed ominously.
"Decline! Why?" he roared.
"For several reasons," Peter Gross replied with disarming mildness. "In
the first place I am under contract with Captain Threthaway of the
_Coryander_--"
"I will arrange that with your captain," the governor broke in.
"In the second place I am neither a soldier nor a politician--"
"That is for me to consider," the governor retorted.
"In the third place, I am a citizen of the United States and therefore
not eligible to any civil appointment from the government of the
Netherlands."
"_Donder en bliksem!_" the governor exclaimed. "I thought you were a
freeholder here."
"I am," Peter Gross admitted. "The land I won is at Riswyk. I expect to
make it my home when I retire from the sea."
"How long have you owned that land?"
"For nearly seven years."
The governor stroked his beard. "You talk Holland like a Hollander,
Mynheer Gross," he observed.
"My mother was of Dutch descent," Peter Gross explained. "I learned the
language from her."
"Good!" Van Schouten inclined his head with a curt nod of satisfaction.
"Half Holland is all Holland. We can take steps to make you a citizen at
once."
"I don't care to surrender my birthright." Peter Gross negatived
quietly.
"What!" Van Schouten shouted. "Not for a resident's post? And eight
thousand guilders a year? And a land grant in Java that will make you
rich for life if you make those hill tribes stick to their plantations?
What say you to this, Mynheer Gross?" His lips curved with a smile of
anticipation.
"The offer is tempting and the honor great," Peter Gross acknowledged
quietly. "But I can not forget I was born an American."
Van Schouten leaned back in his chair with a look of astonishment.
"You refuse?" he asked incredulously.
"I am sorry, your excellency!" Peter Gross's tone was unmistakably firm.
"You refuse?" the governor repeated, still unbelieving.
"Eight--thousand--guilders! And a land grant that will make you rich for
life!"
"I am an American, and American I shall stay."
The governor's eyes sparkled with admiration.
"By the beard of Orange!" he exclaimed, "it is no wonder you Yankees
have sucked the best blood of the world into your country." He leaned
forward confidentially.
"Mynheer Gross, I cannot appoint you resident if you refuse to take the
oath of allegiance to the queen. But I can make you special agent of the
_gouverneur-generaal_. I can make you a resident in fact, if not in
name, of a country larger than half the Netherlands, larger than many of
your own American States. I can give you the rewards I have pledged you,
a fixed salary and the choice of a thousand hectares of our fairest
state lands in Java. What do you say?"
He leaned forward belligerently. In that posture his long, coarse hair
rose bristly above his neck, giving him something of the appearance of a
gamecock with feathers ruffled. It was this peculiarity that first
suggested the name he was universally known by throughout the Sundas,
"De Kemphaan" (The Gamecock).
"To what province would you appoint me?" Peter Gross asked slowly.
The governor hesitated. With the air of a poker player forced to show
his hand he confessed:
"It is a difficult post, mynheer, and needs a strong man as resident. It
is the residency of Bulungan, Borneo."
There was the faintest flicker in Peter Gross's eyes. Van Schouten
watched him narrowly. In the utter stillness that followed the governor
could hear his watch tick.
Peter Gross rose abruptly, leaped for the door, and threw it open. He
looked straight into the serene, imperturbable face of Chi Wung Lo,
autocrat of the governor's domestic establishment. Chi Wung bore a
delicately lacquered tray of Oriental design on which were standing two
long, thin, daintily cut glasses containing cooling limes that bubbled
fragrantly. Without a word he swept grandly in and placed the glasses on
the table, one before the governor, and the other before Peter Gross's
vacant chair.
"Ha!" Van Schouten exclaimed, smacking his lips. "Chi Wung, you
peerless, priceless servant, how did you guess our needs?"
With a bland bow and never a glance at Peter Gross, Chi Wung strutted
out in Oriental dignity, carrying his empty tray. Peter Gross closed the
door carefully, and walked slowly back.
"I was about to say, your excellency," he murmured, "that Bulungan has
not a happy reputation."
"It needs a strong man to rule it," the governor acknowledged, running
his glance across Peter Gross's broad shoulders in subtle compliment.
"Those who have held the post of resident there found early graves."
"You are young, vigorous. You have lived here long enough to know how to
escape the fevers."
"There are worse enemies in Bulungan than the fevers," Peter Gross
replied. "It is not for nothing that Bulungan is known as the graveyard
of Borneo."
The governor glanced at Peter Gross's strong face and stalwart form
regretfully.
"Your refusal is final?" he asked.
"On the contrary, if your excellency will meet one condition, I accept,"
Peter Gross replied.
The governor put his glass down sharply and stared at the sailor.
"You accept this post?" he demanded.
"Upon one condition, yes!"
"What is that condition?"
"That I be allowed a free hand."
"H'mm!" Van Schouten drew a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.
The sharp, Julian cast of countenance was never more pronounced, and the
eagle eyes gleamed inquiringly, calculatingly. Peter Gross looked
steadily back. The minutes passed and neither spoke.
"Why do you want to go there?" the governor exclaimed suddenly. He
leaned forward in his chair till his eyes burned across a narrow two
feet into Peter Gross's own.
The strong, firm line of Peter Gross's lips tightened. He rested one
elbow on the table and drew nearer the governor. His voice was little
more than a murmur as he said:
"Your excellency, let me tell you the story of Bulungan."
The governor's face showed surprise. "Proceed," he directed.
"Six years ago, when your excellency was appointed governor-general of
the Netherlands East Indies," Peter Gross began, "Bulungan was a No
Man's land, although nominally under the Dutch flag. The pirates that
infested the Celebes sea and the straits of Macassar found ports of
refuge in its jungle-banked rivers and marsh mazes where no gun-boat
could find them. The English told your government that if it did not
stamp out piracy and subjugate the Dyaks, it would. That meant loss of
the province to the Dutch crown. Accordingly you sent General Van
Heemkerken there with eight hundred men who marched from the lowlands to
the highlands and back again, burning every village they found, but
meeting no Dyaks except old men and women too helpless to move. General
Van Heemkerken reported to you that he had pacified the country. On his
report you sent Mynheer Van Scheltema there as resident, and Cupido as
_controlleur_. Within six months Van Scheltema was bitten by an adder
placed in his bedroom and Cupido was assassinated by a hill Dyak, who
threw him out of a dugout into a river swarming with crocodiles.
"_Lieve hemel_, no!" Van Schouten cried. "Van Scheltema and Cupido died
of the fevers."
"So it was reported to your excellency," Peter Gross replied gravely. "I
tell you the facts."
The governor's thin, spiked jaw shot out like a vicious thorn and his
teeth clicked.
"Go on," he directed sharply.
"For a year there was neither resident nor _controlleur_ at Bulungan.
Then the pirates became so bold that you again took steps to repress
them. The stockade at the village of Bulungan was enlarged and the
garrison was increased to fifty men. Lieutenant Van Slyck, the
commandant, was promoted to captain. A new resident was appointed,
Mynheer de Jonge, a very dear friend of your excellency. He was an old
man, estimable and honest, but ill-fitted for such a post, a failure in
business, and a failure as a resident. Time after time your excellency
wrote him concerning piracies, hillmen raids, and head-hunting committed
in his residency or the adjoining seas. Each time he replied that your
excellency must be mistaken, that the pirates and head-hunters came from
other districts."
The governor's eyes popped in amazement. "How do you know this?" he
exclaimed, but Peter Gross ignored the question.
"Finally about two years ago Mynheer de Jonge, through an accident,
learned that he had been deceived by those he had trusted, had a right
to trust. A remark made by a drunken native opened his eyes. One night
he called out Captain Van Slyck and the latter's commando and made a
flying raid. He all but surprised a band of pirates looting a captured
schooner and might have taken them had they not received a warning of
his coming. That raid made him a marked man. Within two weeks he was
poisoned by being pricked as he slept with a thorn dipped in the juice
of the deadly upas tree."
"He was a suicide!" the governor exclaimed, his face ashen. "They
brought me a note in his own handwriting."
"In which it was stated that he killed himself because he felt he had
lost your excellency's confidence?"
"You know that, too?" Van Schouten whispered huskily.
"Your excellency has suffered remorse without cause," Peter Gross
declared quietly. "The note is a forgery."
The governor's hands gripped the edge of the table.
"You can prove that?" he cried.
"For the present your excellency must be satisfied with my word. As
resident of Bulungan I hope to secure proofs that will satisfy a court
of justice."
The governor gazed at Peter Gross intently. A conflict of emotions,
amazement, unbelief, and hope were expressed on his face.
"Why should I believe you?" he demanded fiercely.
Peter Gross's face hardened. The sternness of the magistrate was on his
brow as he replied:
"Your excellency remembers the schooner _Tetrina_, attacked by Chinese
and Dyak pirates off the coast of Celebes three years ago? All her crew
were butchered except two left on the deck that night for dead. I was
one of the two, your excellency. My dead comrades have left me a big
debt to pay. That is why I will go to Bulungan."
The governor rose. Decision was written on his brow.
"Meet us here to-night, Mynheer Gross," he said. "There is much to
discuss with Mynheer Sachsen before you leave. God grant you may be the
instrument of His eternal justice." Peter Gross raised a hand of
warning.
"Sometimes the very walls have ears, your excellency," he cautioned. "If
I am to be resident of Bulungan no word of the appointment must leak out
until I arrive there."