BATAVIA.
The voyage on board the _Godavery_ resembled similar ones, with the
notable difference that the excellent cuisine made X. wish that the time
to be spent in transit were longer. The only people who were not
contented were Usoof and Abu, for each of whom their employer was paying
the sum of three dollars a night. These particular Mahomedans refused to
touch the food shovelled out to them, and to crowds of natives of all
colour and class--by the rough and ready Chinese servants, and towards
the end of the second day, having eaten nothing, they presented a very
woebegone and miserable appearance. However, a few more judiciously
placed dollars produced them a square meal of bread and tea, after which
they smiled.
There is perhaps no sensation so agreeable as the arrival in a strange
port. Thoughts and conjectures as to the possibilities that lie beyond
the landing place are innumerable, and fancy and anticipation are
equally strong. When the _Godavery_ steamed into Batavia it was still
dark and the rain was coming down in torrents. It all looked miserable
enough, but, once alongside the wharf, daylight began to appear and the
passengers trooped ashore. The station was more than a quarter of a mile
from the place of landing, and this distance the poor people had to
hurry along in the rain.
The unfortunate natives--carrying bundles containing their
belongings--were drenched to the skin. Also the European
passengers--less objects of pity, as only the portion of their wardrobe
actually worn was exposed to the rain--came in for a considerable share
of the moisture of that wet arrival. It is true there was a magnificent
covered way, but this was hopelessly blocked up with trucks and other
railway gear, which were, presumably, more susceptible to cold than the
passengers. The luggage was quickly and courteously passed by the Custom
House officials, and the travellers entered a luxuriously fitted
train--apparently a show train, as X. never met another like it in Java.
Arrival in Batavia town created a good first impression, as there were
no pestering crowds, as there are in Singapore, and there were many
carriages waiting for hire, all two-horsed and good.
The drive to the hotel was a long one, through the business portions of
the town, till the residential side was reached. Here detached houses
are situated alongside the principal road, on the other side of which
flows a canal, giving to the place an appropriate Dutch appearance.
The hotel was a most imposing building outside, with apparently
countless rooms, but the thing which immediately struck X. as something
uncommon was the fact that the floors of the apartments were level with
the ground and not raised as is the case in Singapore and the Peninsula,
and he felt feverish as he noticed it. The traveller was allotted a fair
sized room opening on to a court yard, with other rooms and other
openings to the right and to the left, and in fact all round him, and in
front of these rooms sat people in every stage of deshabille. There
seemed to be no privacy and what, perhaps, under the circumstances was
fortunate,--no shyness. X. however had not yet reached that point of his
observations, and, entering his room, he shut the door and ordered his
first meal in Java. This turned out to be a terrible repast, consisting
of a plate of cold clammy selections from the interior of some edible
beast, two cold hard-boiled eggs, three small cold fish roasted in
cocoanut oil, and something intended to resemble ham and eggs. This
first meal is mentioned in detail as it was but a foretaste of an
equally trying series. X. thought of Dagonet and that power of
description which, when relating dyspeptic woes, will compel the
sympathy of the hardiest feeder.
It did not take long to skim hastily over the surface of these
uninviting viands, and now X. turned his attention to the notices which
stared at him from every wall. These in many languages threatened all
travellers with penalties if, immediately after their arrival, they
neglected to obtain permission to reside in Netherlands India. After
reading this, X. lost no time in sending for a conveyance to drive to
the British Consulate. The gentleman who received him there was
extremely civil and gave him all the information in his power. It
appeared that if the traveller was anxious for facts about Java, the
officials of that country were equally so in requiring the same from
him, and he was obliged to fill in a printed form stating his age,
birthplace, residence and occupation, etc., and, when this was done, pay
one guilder and a half for his trouble. The next step was to go to the
Bank, and nothing could exceed the kindness with which he was received
at this place, and the thoughtful manager assisted the stranger to
decide where he had better go in order to best see something of the
country, and what was most to the point, wrote for him the names of
places and hotels which seem outlandish and terrible on first meeting
with them. X. learnt to his dismay that the system of obtaining money
by cheque was almost unknown, and it would always be necessary to carry
money and, when more was wanted, receive it by registered letter
through the post. The idea of carrying ready money to a person who had
for years followed the customs of the East and depended on cheques and
"chits," seemed a new trouble for which he had not been prepared. On
the drive back to the hotel through streets sloppy with mud, the first
new impression made upon the traveller was caused by the number of
natives selling vegetables--good wholesome English looking specimens,
especially carrots. This was a refreshing sight after years of seeing
no familiar vegetables, except those which passed long periods of
imprisonment in tins.
All along the route natives of either sex were bathing in the filthy
water of the canal without even a suspicion of that modesty which
characterises the Malays. Impression No. 2 was noted to the effect that
none of the natives wore boots or shoes, and all plashed barefooted
through the mud. He had already had his attention called to this absence
of shoes when coming up in the train by the notice (not to say the
excitement) attracted by the neatly-booted feet of his followers. Could
it be possible that they would also be obliged to go barefooted through
the muddy streets? And still worse thought--would it fall to his lot to
break it to them? The natives all appeared larger and more strongly
built than the Malays of the Peninsula, but, as in Singapore, they were
a hybrid lot, and there were also to be seen a variety of other
nationalities--Malay nationalities--but, strange to say, no Arabs, and,
more remarkable still, no Chinamen. To those readers who may not have
visited that part of the world of which I write, it should be explained
that Singapore is almost entirely populated by Chinese, and in the
native states they materially outnumber the Malays, so that the eye is
accustomed to see Chinese everywhere and regard them as the real
inhabitants of the country. Their absence in a Malay town strikes anyone
coming from the Peninsula as strange. Cf course there _are_ Chinese in
Batavia, and many of them, as X. soon learnt, but they do not pervade
the whole place as is the case in the English colonies over the way.
Reaching the hotel X. was relieved to find that Usoof and Abu had
discarded their boots, and were picking their way delicately across the
mud of the courtyard. Also they had been provided with an excellent
curry. Then he prepared to get ready for his own lunch, and next to
bathe. In order to do this it was necessary to run the gauntlet of many
eyes, as the bathroom was some distance off, and, to reach it, the
entire length of the verandah must be passed. On to this verandah opened
the doors of bedrooms, the occupant of each sitting in his long chair in
front--exactly, as Abu remarked, like vendors holding stalls in a
market. The long chairs were of the luxurious kind, with short seats and
long movable arms, and on which latter the occupants extended their
naked feet. This of course refers to the men. Ladies also sat there, in
what X. subsequently learnt was not altogether considered _deshabille_,
namely, the sarong and kabaya of the country. The first-named garment,
it may be explained for the benefit of readers in the West, is a
close-fitting petticoat such as the natives wear, and the latter a white
linen jacket. It required some courage to take that first walk along
this verandah, but things seldom continue to seem strange, unless other
people look as if they thought them so, and as these reclining rows of
visitors lay back doing nothing, not even reading, with an air of
unconcern, it was not difficult for X. to assume one too. However, he
could not but believe that he helped to fill in that vacant blank in
which the sitters sank, as he passed along, himself clad in wondrous
garments made of gaudy silks woven by the skilled natives of the
Peninsula, while Usoof and Abu followed, bringing the towels and soap.
Nor did he entirely deceive himself, since he was subsequently informed
by Usoof that the "boy" of a Nyonia, or what in Singapore is called a
"mem," told him that his lady had instructed him to discover whether X.
had many more of those silk sarongs for sale.
Lunch was perhaps the first real revelation of life in Java, since it
introduced the traveller to that which a majority of the people seem to
live for (and always sleep after)--the rice-table. This rice-table has
been so often described that it need not be done in detail here; but the
basis, as it were, of this rice-table is, as may be supposed, rice, and
with this foundation in your plate, innumerable dishes of eggs, fish,
meat, etc., are offered by a string of attendants, who expect you to put
some of each on the top of it. Probably this is only a literal and
exaggerated interpretation of a Malay curry, which is incomplete without
the countless little relishes which should accompany it. This particular
dish, or rather function, is seen in its fullest development in the
up-country places, visited later, and the one in Batavia was scarcely a
fair sample, as though X. was unaware of this at the time, its
proportions had evidently been toned down and diminished out of
deference to the cosmopolitan character of the guests, who, probably
like our traveller, had on former occasions given their ignorance away
by asking for more plates and taking each dish seriously, as though it
were a separate course, sent up before its time, at the risk of getting
cold. To a person accustomed to Singapore there was something novel and
cheering about the first meal in the vast dining-hall of this hotel. The
floor was of marble--scrupulously clean--and the Javanese waiters were
dressed in a uniform of white trimmed with red, presenting a pleasing
contrast to the slipshod dirty "boy" of an ordinary hotel, whose habit
it is to clatter round flapping your face and brushing your food with
his long, unclean, hanging sleeves. Though in the native states from
whence X. came it is no uncommon thing to see Malays wait at table, yet
in Singapore, with the exception of Indian servants, it is very seldom
that there are any attendants but Chinese.
Perhaps the most striking feature of the meal was the absence of bread.
This could be procured, when asked for, but was not provided, as it is
elsewhere, as a matter of course, and was regarded as an extra. An
excellent arrangement of this marble hall was that it was permitted to
smoke immediately after lunch. As, availing himself of this, X. smoked
his cigarette and meditated contentedly, he noted all the various
details which might interest The Community at home. One rather prominent
detail was a lady at a neighbouring table dressed only in a sarong and
kabaya, with her extremities bare. The lower portion of these were
thrust into some loose sandal slippers, the upper turned back as far
under the chair as the stretch of the sarong would allow. It was not a
costume which, from X.'s point of view, appeared elegant, though, like
most articles of apparel worn by beauty, capable of becoming elegant if
elegantly worn; still in the present instance more natural elegance
would be required in proportion to that of the costume, there being so
little of the latter. Returning to the publicity of his apartment, X.
was met by Usoof and Abu, both with very long faces and evidently in
considerable distress. On being interrogated it transpired that they had
nowhere to bathe. Now to bathe, and bathe constantly, is as necessary to
a Malay as are regular meals to a European. X., being sadly aware that
he would be held responsible for everything that went wrong or did not
fit in with the exact views of these children of nature, thought it best
to be brave at the commencement of things and affect an indifference
which he was far from really feeling, and, therefore, with a jerk of his
head towards the canal, replied that that was where people bathed. "Yes,
perhaps _people_," said Abu, with meaning, and then for fear X. should
not be sufficiently intelligent to catch the tone, added "people who
don't mind filth or water like that in a drain." This seemed to need no
answer, and as Usoof had reserved his remarks X. knew that worse was to
come, and he would be more prudent to wait and reply on the whole
question, instead of being drawn into argument as though he were
actually to blame for this terrible state of affairs. But as Usoof still
kept silence X. rashly thought he had gained an easy victory, and airily
added, "All right, you must make the best of it and go to the canal."
Then the reserved remarks found vent, "Was the Tuan aware that all the
women in the place bathed there?" "Yes," this had to be admitted, since
the Tuan himself had noticed it, and, as has been recorded above, not
without some comments of his own. "Then how can I bathe there at the
same time?" continued Usoof, "I should be ashamed." "Well, if they are
not you need not be," rather frivolously replied his master, as he
sought escape from further conversation by burrowing in a box full of
books. It may as well be recorded here that the couple never did bathe
in that canal, and eventually drove some miles into the country, where
they performed their modest ablutions by a village well. They also
refused to permit any clothes to be sent to the wash in Batavia, and
they were not far wrong, since the water of the canal was equally
unfitted for washing either clothes or the human body it was their
office to adorn.