THE QUEST CONTINUED--TJILATJAP.
Tjilatjap was reached at midday. The town had an imposing appearance,
all the streets being planted with avenues of large trees. X. drove at
once to the hotel, where he was given a room like a horse-box with the
sun streaming into it. As mentioned above, he subsequently ascertained
that his travelling companion had managed to secure the only decent room
in the hotel, and X. did not feel any love for the stranger, who had
taken what he felt to be an unfair advantage of his local innocence. He
only wished he could hand him over to the tender mercies of the most
muscular and irritable member of the civil service, after relating how
he had libelled it. There was lunch lying ready spread on the table and
its appearance was satisfactory. Next day he noticed that this meal was
laid hot at 9.30 daily, and left cooling until far on in the afternoon.
Being hungry, the distant view of the table looked inviting, and X.
prepared for a hearty meal. But his joyful expectation gave way to
something like disgust on discovering, what a nearer approach revealed,
that each article of food was firmly congealed in its own gravy. But no
one else seemed to mind, and a party opposite--father, mother and
daughter--ate of these provisions as though they were delicacies hot
from the kitchen of the Savoy or Bignon's. Strolling out a little later
to smoke a cigarette and try to persuade himself he had lunched, the
visitor spied the proprietor of the hotel, his family and some favoured
guests, enjoying cakes, and what appeared to be Madeira, and fruit in
the verandah. As sleep in that sunbaked oven of a room was impossible,
the traveller sent for a carriage and went for a drive. The appearance
of all the houses that he passed gave the idea that every one inside
them was asleep, but their stillness was counterbalanced by the busy
crowds of natives going to and fro along those avenues of wonderful
trees.
Later in the day X. sallied forth to call on the Assistant Resident. He
had been informed at the hotel that this official was not visible
between the hours of 11 a.m. and 7 p.m.--rather a long period of
retirement.
As it was growing dark X. walked up to the house, a far superior
residence to the one at Garvet. The lady of the house and her family
were starting for the evening drive, not daring to venture out before
this late hour. The Assistant Resident, apparently a very young man,
received his visitor with great cordiality and gave him all the
information in his power, promising his assistance if he wished to go
further up country. It should be stated that, arrived at Tjilatjap,
Usoof's memory received a filip, and he recollected that the town of
Jombong, not far off, had been the chief place near his "kampong." On
hearing this, the Assistant Resident promised to send a letter to the
Wodena or native magistrate of the village, who lived at Soempioet and
could let him stay in his house. This exactly met the wishes of X., who
had been only wanting an opportunity to see more of the native life in
Java, away from the track of hotels and tame curio sellers, who differed
but little in one town from another. While the traveller was paying this
call, another visitor arrived. This was no less a personage than the
President of the Landraad. After they had left, he hospitably invited
the Englishman into the club, where they played billiards. The great man
made himself most agreeable and was quite ready to impart to his
companion all he might wish to hear about the duties of the local
government officers. He learnt that the Assistant Resident exercised a
very limited jurisdiction as magistrate, and all cases, excepting the
most trivial, are brought before the Landraad. The post held by this
cheery official was evidently most congenial, and he explained with much
satisfaction how he had to be frequently travelling, and what a liberal
allowance he could draw while doing so. It need be liberal, thought his
hearer, to compensate for a course of feeding in Java hotels. But
sympathy on this point was wasted, as the President of the Landraad
alluded to the one, at which it appeared they were both staying, and
spoke of it as comfortable. Billiards over, it was time to return to the
hotel for dinner. This meal, probably more owing to the lamp-light than
to any inherent superiority, seemed an improvement on the last one, had
not the diners made it unnecessarily uncomfortable by treating it as
though it were a hurried snack at the counter of a railway refreshment
room. For instance, three or four times during the progress of the meal
callers came to see the courteous President, who cheerfully left the
table to interview them, returning with equanimity to the discussion of
the chilled dishes at whatever stage of the feast he chanced on when he
returned. The table was not cleared away after the sorry farce of dinner
was over, and X. noticed, as late as ten and even half-past ten o'clock,
late diners strolling in to feed on the ever less appetising remains. X.
recalled the words of his companion in the train, and thought he at
least had some justification for his remarks on the digestions, or the
want of them, of his fellow-countrymen in Java.
The chief thing for intending travellers in Java to recollect is the
difficulty of obtaining money, since no one will look at a cheque, as
people in that country do not use them. It is necessary, therefore, to
take ready money and rely upon periodical remittances sent by registered
letter from the bank. At Garvet X. had his first experience of pecuniary
trouble through having placed confidence in his cheque book, backed by
the special permit signed by the Governor General of the Netherlands
India. He had invested in some Java ponies and thus outrun all
calculations as to expenditure. The hotel people would not look at his
cheque, though they certainly looked at the owner of it with the careful
scrutiny born of suspicion. Very troubled, he had called at all the
chief shops and places of business in the town asking assistance, and
assuring merchants of his _bona fides_, as they scanned his cheque and
passed it from one to another as a curiosity such as none of them had
ever seen before. At length good fortune appeared in the shape of a Mr.
Schmidt. One of those who had endeavoured to grasp some meaning from the
cheque, explained that he believed this kind of thing was seen in
Europe, and they had better call Mr. Schmidt, who not only had been
there within the last two years, but also spoke a little English. X.
eagerly seconded the suggestion, and Mr. Schmidt appeared. His verdict
was anxiously awaited, but especially by the owner of the cheque, whose
future movements must depend on the decision, and his relief was great
when the good, the discerning, the up-to-date Mr. Schmidt pronounced in
his favour. He declared that, certainly he had seen such cheques before,
and generously offered to cash it himself. Thus the situation was saved,
and the stranger was able to carry out his arrangements and pay his
debts. Good Mr. Schmidt! that stranger remembers you with gratitude.
Here, in Tjilatjap, X. was again threatened with penury, for, though he
had telegraphed for money, the little registered packet had so far not
appeared. Perhaps his bankers could not really credit that he had gone
to a place with such a reputation as Tjilatjap. But it was because of
this reputation that X. was unwilling to prolong his stay there beyond
what was actually necessary, and, therefore, sending off the Malays with
the luggage, remained behind, relying upon the arrival of the money by
the morning post. He utilised the opportunity of this enforced stay to
visit the hospital. The hospitals in the Native States of the Peninsula
are perhaps the chief signs of the civilization, of which their
Government may be proud, seeing that in them natives of all
nationalities are splendidly housed and have the best of medical
attendance free. It was, therefore, interesting for the Englishman who
hailed from that Peninsula to see how, in a large town like Tjilatjap in
Java, these things were done.
He had the good fortune to be most courteously shown over the building
by the doctor in charge. It was somewhat of a surprise to find that
there were few patients in the hospital, notwithstanding the reputation
of the place for fever, and to learn that the average number of sick
amongst the natives was not noticeably in excess of other towns.
The whole building was a picture of neatness and cleanliness. The walls
were made of bertam (a kind of plaited reed) so as to be easily
destroyed and replaced in case of infection. The floors were of cement
and raised off the ground. This hospital has only been started two
years, and, at the present time, possesses fifty beds. The bathing
places in particular merited attention, the floors being tiled, while
large tanks of brick and cement contained the water supply--baths are
provided for feeble patients. The most elaborate building was the
dead-house, where all the latest improvements were to be seen. There
was, and is, a European ward where patients can be treated for three
guilders a day. Another building, standing a little apart, was for
Europeans of a better class who could afford to pay six guilders a-day,
"but," the doctor added, "they never come." The hospital is free for all
natives, and, contrary to what is frequently the case elsewhere, the
authorities seem to experience no difficulty in inducing them to go
there. The doctor has one assistant to help him in managing the
hospital. He spoke very highly of the native dressers, and said that
they frequently turn out well. To X., accustomed to see similar
hospitals crowded with Chinese, it was curious only to find one in the
whole hospital, and he was the cook.
After his visit to the hospital the traveller went to the post office to
ask if his registered letter had come, and was considerably depressed to
find that, though the post had arrived, there was no letter by it for
him. There was nothing to be done but to accept the information and
return to the hotel and think it out. He was alone--servants and luggage
had gone, and some ten guilders of money only remained. Where could he
find a local Schmidt. The landlord suggested that perhaps the people at
the Factory might change his cheque. X. was not certain, but believed
the Factory to be the name for the offices of the chief trading firm in
Java. Acting on this advice, he took a carriage and drove there. The
haughty young gentleman who presided behind the counter received him
suspiciously, and at once disdainfully and very firmly refused to have
anything to do with the cheque, which he turned over and over in his
fingers as though it might bite him, and then returned to its owner.
Bowed out and baffled, the traveller returned to his hotel. The
situation was now growing serious, for the train to Soempioeh went in
half-an-hour, and, after paying his bill, there would be no money for
the fare, even could he start penniless. As a forlorn hope X. sallied
forth in the sun to pay one more visit to the post-office. This building
was closed, and the hard-worked officials had retired to their private
apartments in the back premises. Bold to desperation, the visitor
skirted round the post-office and peered into the privacies beyond.
Seeing an open door he walked in, and found the chief official in his
shirt sleeves partaking of his midday meal. With profuse apologies for
his intrusion, X. stated his anxiety about his remittance, and rather
feebly asked the officer if he were "quite sure" the letter had not
come. "Quite sure," grumbled the official in excellent English, "but to
satisfy you I'll let you come and look yourself." X. almost begged him
not to take what surely must be superfluous trouble, but, luckily,
refrained, and accompanying the officer into the post-office, walked
towards a pile of papers stacked in pigeon-holes. "There," exclaimed his
guide, "see--see for yourself"; and he did, for on the top lay a blue
envelope duly registered and addressed to himself.
Thus the hotel bill was paid, and he caught the train to Soempioeh.
There he was met by Abu and messengers from the Wodena, who accompanied
him to that officer's house.