ARRIVAL IN JAVA.--SIGHTS AND SCENES IN BATAVIA.
At daylight the next morning the boys were on deck for their first sight
of Java. They could see nothing but a low coast, like that of Siam, with
a fringe of tropical trees, and a backing of mountains in the distance.
They had expected to go into a snug harbor, but found that the harbor of
Batavia is more imaginary than real, as it is little better than a
shallow roadstead, where ships of deep draught must anchor far from
shore.
The steamer came to her resting-place, and the anchor went plunging down
to its muddy bed. A noisy little steam-launch came to carry the mails
ashore, but our friends were not allowed to take passage in her; they
were told there would be a steamer for the passengers in an hour or two,
or, if they preferred, they could go ashore on a native boat.
They chose the latter conveyance, as the time of waiting for the
steamboat was a trifle uncertain; and, besides, they desired to get to
land as speedily as possible. There were a dozen boats hovering around
the steamer, and it did not take long to make a bargain; for three
florins--a Dutch florin is equal to forty cents of our money--they were
to be carried to the "Boom," or custom-house, where their baggage would
be examined, and they could find conveyance to the hotel. As soon as the
bargain was made their baggage was lowered into the boat, and they were
off.
It was a long pull, and the sun was hot. Our friends reclined under
their umbrellas, and tried to be comfortable; and the boys wondered how
the boatmen could pull away so cheerily and not be fatigued. The Doctor
reminded them that the men had been accustomed all their lives to the
climate of Java; and what seemed very severe to strangers from the North
was nothing to those who were used to it. The men evidently understood
the subject of conversation, as they offered to pull twice as fast for
another florin; their proposal was declined, as none of the newcomers
wished to be the cause, however indirectly, of a sunstroke among the
natives.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL IN PORT.]
It was a journey of three miles from the steamer to the custom-house,
partly in the harbor and partly in a canal. The canal is pushed out a
considerable distance into the harbor by means of stone dikes; and the
space between these dikes is dredged to a depth of twelve or fourteen
feet. Nothing but small craft can come up to the docks; heavy sea-going
ships, whether steam or sail, must anchor in the harbor, and their
cargoes are transferred by lighters.
As soon as they reached the end of the wall that forms the canal the
boatmen drew up against it, and for the rest of the way the boat was
towed, or "trecked." This mode of propulsion was easier and faster than
rowing, and partly accounted for the proposal of the boatmen to double
their speed, as they were near the end of their rowing when they
suggested it. At the custom-house the trunks and valises were subjected
to a slight examination; there was a polite official who spoke English;
and on learning that our friends had only come for a brief visit to
Java, and had no business to transact, he assured them that all was
right. He asked for their passports, and said it would be necessary to
get a permit to remain on the island, especially if they wished to
travel in the interior. This they could easily do, he said, through
their consul; and then he informed them that the formalities of the
custom-house were ended.
[Illustration: THE CARRIAGE AT THE CUSTOM-HOUSE.]
A runner was there from the hotel they intended to patronize, and so
they gave their property into his hands. It was piled on a cart and sent
off, and then the runner led the way to a carriage that was standing
near. It was a sort of Victoria, that could accommodate two persons
comfortably; and there was an extra seat just behind the driver, which
could be turned down and made to hold a third passenger in an emergency.
The horses were diminutive beasts, with harnesses in the European style;
and the driver was a withered specimen of a Javanese, wearing an ancient
hat decorated with a cockade, and having the brim turned so that it
would not impede the view in any direction. Fred thought the hat had
come from Holland about the middle of the century, after doing duty in a
respectable family of Amsterdam for at least a dozen years. Frank
remarked that the hat was hardly less antique than the head it covered;
and the skin of the one seemed as much glazed as the other.
[Illustration: THE NATIONAL TASTE.]
It was nearly, if not quite, three miles from the custom-house to the
hotel, and the little horses went over the ground at a surprising rate,
when their size and appearance were considered. For much of the way the
drive followed the bank of a canal, where they saw groups of men and
women engaged in washing clothes or taking a morning bath. Batavia is on
level ground, the same as Amsterdam; and the Dutch have tried to make it
seem as much like home as possible by supplying it with canals. They
have carried many of their customs with them in emigrating to the East,
and sometimes to their disadvantage. For instance, they adhere with
unflinching firmness to the old practice of taking a glass of _schnapps_
before every meal, forgetting that what may be allowable in a cold
country is the reverse of beneficial in a hot one. Our friends reached
the hotel a little while before the mid-day meal was served, and they
were hardly inside the door of their rooms before a servant came with
glasses of a fiery liquid to enable them to get up an appetite. He was
somewhat surprised when they declined what was considered so necessary
to the health.
The hotel covered an immense area, as it consisted of a series of
bungalows of one story, with a central building, where the dining-room
and the offices of the manager were located. Between the rows of
bungalows there were shade-trees and paved walks, and along the front of
each house there was a wide veranda, where the occupants could sit or
recline in the open air whenever they chose to do so. The central
building was two stories high; all the lower part was taken up for the
dining-room and parlors, while the upper floor was occupied by patrons.
Our friends were assigned to rooms in one of the bungalows, and a
barefooted servant came to assist them in arranging their effects, and
bring whatever they desired.
[Illustration: THEIR SERVANT.]
The servant was of a type new to our friends, and Frank proceeded to
make a sketch of him at the first opportunity. He was a Javanese Malay,
with features not unlike those of the Malays of Singapore, but his dress
was different. He wore trousers of striped cotton, rather narrow in the
legs, and without any nicety of fit; above the trousers he had a gaudy
shirt, with an embroidered front, and a short jacket of material similar
to that of the trousers. Wrapped around his waist, and falling to the
knee, he had a skirt that appeared to have been cut from the gayest
piece of calico that ever came from the looms of Manchester or Lowell;
and it was held in place by a belt. This part of the Malay wardrobe is
called a _sarong_, and is worn by both sexes; it is usually fastened by
tying a knot in one corner, and then drawing the sarong tightly around
the waist. The knot is passed under the straightened edge of the
garment, and is not likely to slip out of place.
Accompanying this servant there was a small boy whose business it was to
bring cigars, and fire for lighting them. It seemed to Frank and Fred
that the Dutchmen of Batavia were smoking all the time; and Fred
suggested that, if the days were as long, there would be exactly as much
smoking.
Breakfast was served in the room we have mentioned, and Doctor Bronson
and the boys were shown to the seats assigned to them. Frank made a
discovery that amused him greatly, and was equally entertaining to his
cousin when he learned of it. It was so unlike the custom of any hotel
he had ever seen, that he made a note of it to include in his next
letter. Here it is:
"The three of us have one servant; and, as far as I can see, he waits on
no one else. In each of our rooms there is a little closet, and in this
closet there are knives, forks, spoons, plates, etc., for one person.
Before breakfast or dinner our servant takes these things to the general
table, and when the meal is over he brings them back again, and returns
them to their places in the closets. He is responsible for breakage, and
is required to keep the articles clean. The only dishes that go to the
kitchen of the hotel are the platters, tureens, and similar things, on
which the food is brought from the place of cooking."
Fred was busy with his eyes and ears during breakfast, and contributed
to the general fund of information as follows:
"The first solid meal of the day in Batavia is called the _rys-taffel_,
or rice-table. It is served about eleven o'clock; and its name goes far
to describe its character, as it consists largely of rice. This is the
way they serve it:
"The rice is boiled in such a way that each grain is separate from every
other. It is served hot in a large dish, and you help yourself into a
soup-plate of goodly size.
[Illustration: THE MANGO.]
"One servant hands you the rice, and when you have filled your plate
with it another servant offers you a round platter or tray, eighteen or
twenty inches across, and divided into a dozen compartments. These
compartments contain various seasonings, and you may take any or all, or
none of them, at your pleasure, and in quantities to suit you. You have
chutney, which is a sharp sauce from India; you have red or green
peppers, cut into a fine hash, red pepper mixed with water to form a
paste, cocoa-nut grated fine, preserved ginger-root, sliced mangoes,
English pickles, salt fish dried to a crisp, capers, and other hot and
spicy things peculiar to the East.
"When you have taken what you want from the tray, the servant moves on,
and another takes his place. He offers you soft eggs, either boiled or
poached, and you are expected to take one or two of the eggs to mix with
your rice. Then comes a servant with a plate of some kind of meat, cut
into small pieces, and stewed with curry-powder; and behind him is
another servant with a plate of some kind of vegetable, which has been
stewed in curry. Then they offer you cold chicken or ham, or some other
meat, to put on a small plate at your side, and your supply of food is
completed, with the addition of all the bread you want. You mix all the
things you have in your large soup-plate into a thick mass, like yellow
paste, and eat with a spoon.
[Illustration: A LITTLE TOO PEPPERY.]
"This is the famous Java curry; and if you have taken plenty of the
pepper and chutney, and other hot things, your mouth will burn for half
an hour as though you had drunk from a kettle of boiling water. And when
you have eaten freely of curry, you don't want any other breakfast.
Everybody eats curry here daily, because it is said to be good for the
health by keeping the liver active, and preventing fevers."
After breakfast our friends went to their rooms, and soon afterwards met
on the veranda to arrange plans for seeing Batavia. Somewhat to their
surprise, they learned that it was not fashionable to be seen out till
three o'clock in the afternoon, and they must not call on any one during
the middle of the day. The Doctor said that the Dutch and other foreign
inhabitants of the city were supposed to sleep two or three hours while
the sun was high in the heavens; but as they were strangers, and had
little time at their disposal, they would get a carriage and take a
drive.
[Illustration: AFTER BREAKFAST.]
Neither ladies nor gentlemen are visible in Batavia between breakfast
and three P.M.; or if they show themselves they are not acting according
to custom. They lounge in bed or hammock, or in their bamboo arm-chairs,
and try to get as much rest as possible to fit them for the fatigues of
the evening. It is this habit of sleeping in the daytime that enables
the fashionable Batavians to keep very late hours. They are accustomed
to rise early; and by five o'clock in the morning half the people in the
hotel were out of bed, and the rest of them before six.
[Illustration: AN EARLY CALL.]
Frank and Fred were awakened on their first morning in Batavia before
they thought the hour of rising had arrived. The Doctor told them they
had best conform to the custom, and so they crept from their beds and
prepared to dress.
"That is unnecessary," said the Doctor; "it is perfectly proper for you
to come out in your sleeping-suits, and sit in front of your rooms, or
go to your baths. You will find that is what everybody else is doing."
Accordingly they made their appearance in their pajamas, and found that
the servant was ready to attend upon them. All around they could hear
men calling _"api!_" "_api!_" and they naturally asked what "api" meant.
"It is the Malay word for 'light' or 'fire,'" said the Doctor; "and the
call you hear is for a light for a cigar or cigarette."
When they went to the row of bath-rooms fronting their apartments, the
boys looked for bathing-tubs, but found none. Each bath-room had a
faucet whence water could be drawn, or it contained a barrel and a
dipper, but no other furniture.
The bathing custom in Java is to pour water over the body, and not to
plunge into a tub. A tub can be had by any one who asks for it; but he
runs the risk of being considered a barbarian, who cannot be weaned from
the absurd customs of his native land.
After the bath came the "little breakfast," as it is called by the
residents, consisting of tea or coffee, with eggs or cold meat, and a
few biscuits. When this was ended Doctor Bronson ordered a carriage, and
the morning hours were devoted to a drive.
"We have not quite time," said the Doctor, "to exhaust a single course
with the carriage between this and the hour for the rys taffel."
The boys could not understand his meaning, until he explained that the
rules governing the hire of carriages in Batavia are somewhat curious.
"The tariff for a Victoria," said he, "is four florins or
guilders--about one dollar and sixty cents of our money, and if you only
ride a few blocks you must pay that price. But you can, if you choose,
keep it for six hours without any extra charge, except that the driver
will expect an allowance of an hour or so to rest his horses, and a
little money for himself by way of remembrance."
"What an odd arrangement!" said Frank.
Fred agreed with him fully, and probably every traveller who visits
Batavia will not be long in coming to the same conclusion.
"When I was here before," continued the Doctor, "I took a carriage one
morning for the customary six hours, and went out for a drive. At the
end of three hours I returned to the hotel for breakfast, and told the
driver he could have an hour to himself and then return. He did not come
again, and when I asked at the office of the hotel the manager said he
would investigate the affair. In the evening he told me he had seen the
driver, and paid him, and his reason for not returning was that his
horses were tired.
"I thought no more of the matter till I settled my bill the next day,
preparatory to going into the country, and found that the full tariff of
four guilders had been charged for the carriage. I protested that the
man was not entitled to that amount, because he had not given me the
stipulated service. The manager said he had paid the bill because that
was the law; and he added that the driver would have served me the full
time if his horses had not been tired.
"In vain did I protest that I had been unjustly treated; the only answer
I could get from the manager was, 'The driver's horses were tired--his
horses were tired.' I vowed that the next time I employed a carriage in
Batavia I would adhere rigidly to the law, and keep it in my sight for
the full six hours, whether I wanted it or not. If the driver serves us
well to-day, perhaps he will get an allowance; but if he is obstinate,
as these Malay drivers sometimes are, I shall feel like enforcing the
law to the letter."
They were fortunate in finding a very amiable driver, who did his best
to make the strangers enjoy their ride. He spoke only the Malay
language; but, in spite of the absence of a common tongue, he managed to
make them understand his explanations, and to show them a good deal of
Batavia. The result was that they gave him an hour to spare, and an
extra florin for the trouble he had taken.
Here is what Frank wrote in his note-book concerning their first
morning's ride in Batavia:
[Illustration: NATIVE HOUSE ON THE RIVER THAT FEEDS THE CANAL.]
"Batavia covers a great extent of ground, and is fairly entitled to be
called a city of magnificent distances. The old city near the sea is
rather closely built, but it is not inhabited by Europeans to any
extent. The Dutch, English, and other foreign merchants transact
business there during the day; but they live in the new part of Batavia,
which spreads over the flat ground for several square miles. The houses
are rarely of more than one story, as the country is subject to
earthquakes, and nobody wants to have a flight of stairs between him
and the ground when these shakings begin. Nearly every house has a
_campong_, or yard, around it, and this yard is filled with tropical
trees in considerable variety. The great streets and roads are liberally
provided with shade-trees, so that Batavia can hardly be seen, owing to
the impossibility of peering through the dense foliage that is before
you at every step.
"A canal with several branches runs through all this level area that
they call Batavia, and for miles and miles it is built up with solid
stone walls. It is fed by a small river coming down from the mountains,
and serves a triple purpose: boats may navigate it; people may bathe
there, or wash clothes in it; and the sewage of the city is said to be
drained into it. Whether the water for household use is taken from it or
not, I am unable to say; but we repeatedly saw Malay servants filling
buckets with it, and then walking off in the direction of the houses.
Circumstantial evidence was against them; but the clerk of the hotel
says the water they were carrying was to be used for washing the floors
of the houses and sprinkling the gravel-walks in the court-yards.
Perhaps it is the suspicion that the water may be used for drinking
purposes that leads so many of the inhabitants to shun it, and take
seltzer, gin, claret, and other imported liquids to quench their thirst.
"They have a street railway here, but it is patronized only by the
natives, the Chinese, and the low class of foreigners. The track is good
enough, but the cars are the wildest contrivances you ever saw; they are
common freight-cars fitted with rush seats, and their great weight makes
them difficult to move along the way. Perhaps, if they had the proper
kind of cars, the Europeans would ride in them, but they could hardly
expect to patronize those now in use.
"It was a funny sight, when we were driving along the streets, to see
the ladies out for their morning promenade, with their hair streaming
down their shoulders, their bodies enclosed only in light wrappers, with
loose sacks buttoned to the throat, and with slippers, but no stockings,
on their feet. Most of them wore the sarong, or native petticoat, and
they generally carried parasols to keep off the sun. This is the
forenoon costume of the ladies before they go to breakfast, and it
strikes a foreigner as very odd.
[Illustration: FAMILY PARTY IN BATAVIA.]
"Sometimes we saw a whole family sitting on the veranda of a house, in
full view of everybody passing along the street, looking as if they had
just got out of bed and were only half dressed. The men would be in
dressing-gowns or pajamas, and the ladies with their hair down, as I
have described, or twisted up into tight little lumps, so that the
owners might appear in the afternoon with a fine stock of curls.
Occasionally we saw some fat, jolly old women with their hair cut close
to the head, in order to keep off as much of the heat as possible.
[Illustration: FAN-PALM IN THE BOTANICAL GARDEN.]
"We visited the museum and the botanical garden, and found them quite
interesting. The museum contains the products of Java, arranged so that
you can readily see what the resources of the island are; and there are
relics of ancient times that throw light upon the history of the country
and its people. The botanical garden abounds in tropical plants, and
reminded us of the garden at Singapore; but we had not time to make a
list of its contents. We saw some fine specimens of a tree that had
already attracted our attention at Singapore--the 'fan-palm,' or
traveller's fountain, as it is called. It spreads out like a huge fan,
with the lower part of the stalks quite bare, while the ends are formed
exactly like feathers. A small tree of this species would make a very
good fan for a giant, such as we read of in Gulliver's travels.
[Illustration: CHINESE PORTERS.]
"In the old part of Batavia we saw so many Chinese that it would not
have required a great stretch of the imagination to believe that we
were once more in the Flowery Kingdom. In one of the narrowest streets
we met a couple of Chinese porters carrying a burden suspended from a
pole, the same as we had seen them in Canton and Shanghai, and if it had
not been that our driver was very careful we might have run over them.
The Chinese are very numerous in Batavia, and all through Java, and a
great deal of the commercial business of the country is in their hands.
They are engaged in all kinds of trade where money is to be made, and
they have the same guilds and commercial associations that they have in
Singapore, Hong-kong, and elsewhere. They have their temples and idols
just as at home; and though many of them were born in Java, and will
probably never see the soil of China, they are as thoroughly Chinese as
though they were reared within the walls of Canton.
[Illustration: GODDESS OF SAILORS AND HER ASSISTANTS.]
"One of the most common of the Chinese temples is that of the goddess
'Ma-Chu,' who is worshipped by sailors and those having business on the
water. She is represented with her two assistants; one of them is called
'Favorable-Wind-Ear,' and the other 'Thousand-Mile-Eye.' The first is
supposed to have an ear that can catch the least indication of a wind to
favor the sailor; and the latter possesses a clearness of vision that
enables him to see a rock or other danger at the distance of a thousand
miles. One listens, while the other looks; and between them they are
believed able to insure a safe and speedy voyage to all their
worshippers."
As our friends were somewhat wearied with their morning's work, they
remained in-doors from the time of the "rys-taffel" till three o'clock.
Then they followed the custom of the country by taking a bath, and
dressing for dinner; and after dinner they continued to be in fashion by
taking another drive. We will let Fred tell the story of what they saw
in the afternoon and evening.
"The fashionable hour for a promenade is after dinner, and all the
ladies and gentlemen consider it their duty to come out and be seen.
There are plenty of carriages on the streets, and also a goodly number
of gentlemen on horseback; and it is rather a pretty sight to see the
gentlemen riding along by the carriages and chatting with the ladies
inside. Then there are many pedestrians--the ladies being in light
walking-dresses, and the gentlemen in full evening costume. The odd
thing about the promenades is that both sexes are bareheaded. This is
all well enough for the ladies; but it is rather strange to see a
gentleman in full dress, and carrying a cane along the street, with his
head as bare as though he was in a parlor. I am told that the ladies
never wear hats or bonnets, and that the only thing of that sort ever
seen in Batavia is when foreigners first arrive here from other parts of
the world. A ladies' hat-store in Batavia would not be a paying
speculation.
"On certain evenings there is music on the King's Square; and at such
times everybody goes there to hear it. The crowd is large but very
fashionable, as it is the proper thing to go there; and no one who can
get out will venture to miss the performance. The band stops playing a
little after dark, and then the drive may be said to be at its
prettiest. The footman of each carriage carries a torch made of some
resinous plant tied into a bundle, like a wisp of straw, and, as the
carriages move around and pass and repass each other, the scene is a
curious one. All the houses are a blaze of light, as the wide verandas
are hung with lamps, and the whole family is gathered there when not out
for the drive. The veranda is the general sitting-room, as everybody
prefers it to the parlor on account of its being so much cooler.
"Perhaps you are wondering when the men find time for business. Well,
they transact most of it in the forenoon, but their offices are open in
the afternoon in charge of the clerks. For the clerks there is no such
resting-time as I have described, or at best, only a short one, in the
middle of the day. When a young man comes out here to seek his fortune,
he must do pretty much as he would at home for the first year or two;
when he is fairly established, he can have his time in the middle of the
day, and live like other people."