WHISPERING—LUCULLUS MISTAKEN FOR AN ANIMAL—JOHANNES’ PLAN—A
GRATEFUL SMUGGLER—JOHANNES A GEOGRAPHER—A MIRACULOUS HAUL OF
FISH—LA CUEILLE’S PROMISE—DRINKING WATER—DEPARTURE.
It is necessary now to explain how the deserters came to be embarked in
that funeral cortege and also how their project of escape had been
planned and perfected. For this purpose we must go back some few days
and change the scene to the dormitory of the fort of Kwala Kapoeas. The
time is close upon midnight. Most of the men are wrapped in slumber and
perfect silence prevails. No, not perfect silence; for in one remote
corner there is a sound of suppressed conversation which challenges the
notice of the officer on duty.
“Silence in that corner! What can you have to talk about so late at
night! Is not the day long enough for gossip?”
This sharp rebuke was the signal for the talkers to cease, but not for
long. Presently when silence reigned again, interrupted only by the
loud snoring of the sleepers, a soft whispering made itself heard in
that same dark corner to which the corporal had before referred.
It was Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf continuing their interrupted
conversation beneath their breath.
“I repeat,” observed the former, “I cannot endure this life any
longer!”
“Hush!” whispered his companion. “Don’t get so excited. We can’t hurry,
so be patient.”
“That is all you can say. Patience! We have been here two months
already and how far are we advanced?”
“How can we help it? One cannot break iron with his hands. You know
that our enterprise is one in which we risk our necks.”
“Quite so. Still if this should last much longer, I intend to take a
leap into the river.”
“That would be a treat for the crocodiles; but all the same it would be
a poor way of gaining your liberty, unless you look upon death as your
only possible liberator.”
“Well I would rather be dead than remain a prisoner like this.”
“But ‘dead is dead.’ I must own that I prefer——”
Schlickeisen had no time to finish the sentence. Some one had crept
unperceived between their beds. Two hands were pressed upon their
shoulders as if to compel them to remain passive. Then a voice
whispered in the softest accents:
“Don’t talk so loud; you fail to notice that Corporal Dunkelhof has
been listening this last quarter of an hour. If he has overheard any of
your talk, you may expect to be reported to-morrow morning.”
“For my part,” muttered Wienersdorf, “he may hear all we have said.”
“You may tell that to your sister, but not to me,” said the visitor,
still whispering. “If the Colonel should only hear a tenth part of what
you have been saying, you may be sure that you two would be under
arrest before sunrise. Our Colonel is not to be trifled with.”
“Oho! not quite so fast, please. Who are you? A listener can never be
trusted,” said Schlickeisen in a menacing though subdued voice.
“Don’t fear. I won’t betray you. It matters little who I am. But look
how the corporal is pricking up his ears.”
And indeed there came an imperative voice, “Silence there in that
corner. I shan’t speak any more. Those who won’t hear must feel.”
Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen held their breath and everything remained
quiet for a while. Suddenly their mysterious visitor bent over them and
whispered almost inaudibly:
“Come to the hut of Johannes to-morrow morning after breakfast.”
The figure vanished under the beds and was soon lost in the darkness.
The two Swiss kept quiet for a long time. When they perceived that the
corporal had dropped off to sleep, Wienersdorf whispered to his
companion the enquiry:
“Who was that?”
“Perhaps Johannes himself.”
“He had a brown skin and the upper part of his body was naked.”
“Can we trust him?”
“Who knows? We may as well look in to-morrow morning and hear what he
has to say.”
“Hush! be careful; that Dunkelhof is a regular spy.”
They both crept between their blankets and were soon in a sound
slumber.
Next morning, after they had fetched their soup from the kitchen, they
had to pass the hut of Johannes. They found him standing outside his
door. Without uttering a word he moved away from the entrance as if
inviting them to come in. They entered, put their pannikins on the
floor and seated themselves on a bench.
On a table before them lay already spread a choice repast prepared by
Johannes. In addition to the ration of soup from the barrack kitchen,
there was boiled rice, snow white and well granulated, dishes of sauces
made of fish and vegetables, surrounded by some smaller dishes of
pepper fried in oil and pounded with shrimp. There were also plates of
dried venison and cod’s roe together with roasted meat. A duck,
swimming in a palatable sauce, completed the cheer.
“You are a Lucullus,” began Schlickeisen.
“What kind of animal is that?” demanded Johannes.
“No animal at all, but a Roman gourmand, who, however, could not
compare with you.”
“Laugh at me if you please, but sit down and eat. We can talk
afterwards. I always find that I can reason better when I have
satisfied the cravings of my stomach.”
The Swiss did not wait for a second invitation but fell to and enjoyed
themselves to their hearts’ content. Not a word was spoken during the
repast. There was nothing heard but the smacking of lips and the
clatter of knives and forks.
When the last bone had been picked and the feasters had wiped their
greasy fingers, Johannes produced a box of tobacco. All three having
filled their pipes, he began:
“Now out with your business; you mean to bolt, don’t you?”
Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf looked at each other interrogatively.
“We are quite safe here,” continued Johannes. “Nobody can hear us.
Come, out with it. You want to be off. Where to? Perhaps I can assist
you.”
The two Swiss exchanged a look of intelligence. After a while
Wienersdorf said:
“Well, yes; we did talk of a plan to desert, but there is a wide
distance between talking and doing.”
“I should think so. But tell me your plan.”
“Oh, you can scarcely call it a plan yet. We have not been here long
enough to know the country and without that knowledge no attempt is
possible.”
“You speak,” said Johannes, “like a learned man. But if you wait until
you obtain the needed information you may be too old to desert. Did I
hear you mention last night a Chinese craft?”
“Yes; we have been given to understand that such a vessel calls here
annually and we spoke of bribing the captain to conceal us on board and
carry us to China.”
“Bravo! Have you any money?”
“We have about four hundred florins between us.”
“Well! do you know what would happen? The Chinaman would coolly pocket
your four hundred florins. He would duly receive you and hide you on
board his vessel. But before leaving Kwala Kapoeas he would drop a note
to the Colonel who would despatch a cruiser after you. Your craft would
be overhauled, both of you secured and the game would be up.”
“But why should the captain act thus?”
“In order to pocket your four hundred florins. Perhaps also to get into
the good graces of the Colonel and be enabled to sell more of his
wares. No, no, you must not dream of escaping that way. Listen to me. I
also have resolved to desert and have thought of it a very long time,
so that I may safely say my plans are well matured. Only I don’t like
to enter upon such an undertaking by myself. La Cueille will go with
me, but he is not sufficient. The aid of a few strong arms is what I
greatly need. Now, what do you think?”
“This La Cueille is a fearful drunkard. Is he the right fellow to
confide in?”
“One can’t be over-particular. He has a stout heart and fears nothing.
Besides we intend to take only a very small quantity of liquor which I
mean to keep under my own control. I am sure he is the best fellow in
the world as long as he remains sober.”
“But,” said Wienersdorf, “ought we not to learn your plans? What made
you think of us?”
“That is very easy to understand. I observed that you two kept aloof
from the other men. You were always whispering in corners and couldn’t
hold your tongues, even at night. I set myself to find out what was
going on and I succeeded. I heard you speak together of deserting and
then my heart leaped with joy, for I had found just what I wanted—a
couple of sturdy fellows who like myself are burning to get away. Now
are you satisfied with my explanation?”
“Quite; now tell us about your plan.”
The three conspirators refilled their pipes and drew closer together.
Johannes then proceeded to give a complete narrative not only of his
plan, but also of the means he had provided to ensure its success.
One dark evening while he was on sentry duty outside the fort, Baba
Poetjieng came up to him and offered a bundle of cigars. The Chinaman
commenced a conversation in the course of which he told Johannes that
in a creek near by his rangkan lay hidden and that it contained a
considerable quantity of opium which he was anxious to smuggle. He had
succeeded in defiance of the cruisers and coast-guards in bringing the
canoe up the river. Now was to come the most difficult part of the
enterprise—passing the fort; and to accomplish this he hoped his friend
Johannes would help him. The sly Chinaman carefully concealed the fact
that his cargo really consisted of gunpowder and salt, the two greatest
necessities of the Bandjarese insurgents. He pressed a few rix dollars
into Johannes’ hand, who arranged with him that he would be at the same
post again next evening when he would let him pass. Johannes begged for
and obtained some opium, which he put by for future use in the
execution of his plan. With this opium he drugged his fellow-guards and
enabled the Celestial to smuggle his goods. This accomplished, the
Chinaman was in his power and Johannes had no hesitation in unfolding
his scheme of escape and demanding his aid and co-operation. Baba
Poetjieng agreed to provide a well-fitted canoe manned by three Dayaks.
Johannes then made sundry small parcels of his and La Cueille’s
clothing which he gave to him to convey to the canoe. The time fixed
for the escape was the next change of the moon, darkness being
necessary to ensure success. As it was now full moon, they had a
fortnight left for making their final preparations.
“Now,” said Johannes, “what do you think?”
“We think it an excellent plan,” said Schlickeisen.
“It does you credit,” added Wienersdorf. “But I fear there are still
many difficulties to be overcome. We will get away without doubt; the
fortress is not an enchanted castle—but when we shall have got away the
question will be, whither are we to go?”
“Where to go? Where but down the river—seawards—that is the way. Once
at sea, we direct our course westward, keeping close in shore to evade
the cruisers. In the day-time we will hide the canoe in one of the
creeks which abound on the south coast, but at night we shall have to
row as fast as we can. When we get to Cape Batoe Titi, the
south-westerly part of Borneo, our further course will be determined by
the state of the weather. If everything is favorable we will run for
the island of Biliton across the straits of Gaspar, and proceeding
along the north of Banca reach at last the coast of Sumatra. Once
there, our hardest task will be completed. We must skim along under the
shadows of the thick forests until we come to Cape Basso. Thence, with
a fair amount of luck, we run safely between the islands of the Riouw
Archipelago and get to Singapore.”
“I must own that you seem to be very well informed. Where did you learn
all these particulars; from Baba Poetjieng?”
“No, no. My geography and topography come from the military school of
Kedong-Kebo, where I was educated.”
“But how long will it take us to reach Singapore?”
“At least three or four weeks; but mind, the slightest misadventure may
upset all our calculations.”
A cold shudder passed over the two Swiss and both cried out
simultaneously, “Four weeks on the ocean in a nut-shell!”
“I beg your pardon; to be on the Java sea at this season is not such a
dreadful affair. But you can do as you please—join or remain behind.”
“Oh, no!” was the reply as both Swiss offered their hands. “We join you
most certainly, even though the journey should lead to perdition.”
After this emphatic ratification of their alliance the three friends
separated and in order to disarm suspicion they returned by different
routes to the fortress.
Now commenced a series of preparations separately conducted but all
equally directed to the perfection of their arrangements. Whatever fell
in their way that was likely to be useful on their voyage was taken to
Johannes’ hut and stored away. Thus they contrived to get together a
supply of provisions and gunpowder without much difficulty. What,
however, taxed their ingenuity to obtain, was a supply of rifle
bullets. These they managed to smuggle during target practice, by
substituting blank cartridges. Of course when a miss was proclaimed as
the result of their firing, their comrades laughed and jeered, but they
only looked as innocent as they could and quickly stored away the
abstracted bullet. Their stock of animal food also received an
important addition most unexpectedly. The garrison organized a
fishing-party after the Dayak method. They closed the creeks with a
kind of bamboo matting during the flood-tides which followed the full
moon. At the ebb the shallow bed of the moat was left so swarming with
fish that they were bailed out by basketsfull. Johannes bought up the
greatest part of this catch at a price so unusually high that it
attracted the Colonel’s attention. When questioned by him Johannes
explained that he intended to dry the fish for sale and that he had
already disposed of it to Baba Poetjieng at a fair profit. This
pretended speculation served also another purpose. It enabled Baba
Poetjieng to visit Johannes’ hut and carry away all the fish without
exciting suspicion. The cleaning and curing were undertaken by Johannes
with the aid of La Cueille, who had been fully recognized as one of the
alliance by Wienersdorf and Schlickeisen. They were most careful to
warn the intemperate Walloon against the dangers of inebriety and they
made him promise not to taste gin until at least they had started on
their journey.
“I faithfully promise,” says La Cueille, “not to touch a drop of
spirits.”
“Amen,” responded Johannes.
“Do you mean to keep this promise throughout?” Wienersdorf asked.
“By the sacred Lady of Scherpenheuvel,” answered the Walloon.
“We can now welcome you into our brotherhood. Each of us must do his
best to promote the success of our enterprise. Our motto must be ‘Every
one for everybody.’ By-the-bye, Johannes, how are we now situated in
respect to provisions?”
Johannes explained that there were deposited with Baba Poetjieng five
bags of rice, each weighing one hundred and twenty-five pounds.
“But we are surely not expected to live on rice?” asked Schlickeisen.
“Certainly not,” answered Johannes. “What am I providing dried fish
for? The Chinaman supplies us with salt, pepper and curry. We shall
also have a barrel of salt beef and pork. Don’t imagine, however, that
you are going to fare as at your mother’s table. It is enough that we
shall not know want. What troubles me most is the drinking water.
Supposing each man to need three pints a day that will make for a
month’s voyage eighty gallons or eight barrels of ten gallons each.
These will take up considerable space and greatly diminish our
comforts.”
“Do you mean to carry water for the whole journey?”
“Well, it would be the best plan, but I am afraid it is impracticable.
I therefore propose to ship only two barrels.”
“That is decidedly too little,” said Schlickeisen; “that is only half a
pint per day.”
“Listen. As long as we remain in the Lesser Dayak we need not touch our
water. Nor shall we require to do so while on the coast of Borneo. We
shall have to take refuge during the day in one of the many creeks in
order to avoid the cruisers. Now there is no country in the world that
has so many rivers opening into the sea as you find in the south of
Borneo. Any of those streams will enable us to replenish our supply of
water. We shall have to be careful crossing to Biliton, for there we
shall be at sea. It is a little better on the north coast of Banca, but
where we shall find water in abundance is on the eastern coast of
Sumatra. Such streams as the Reteh and the Indragiri will furnish
enough to allay our thirst.”
“You are a born geographer,” said Wienersdorf, “and I raise my hat in
respect to your knowledge.”
“What do you mean by raising your hat? I see only a shabby service
cap.”
“Well let us say we raise our caps; but really your explanation was so
excellent that I should like you to complete it.”
“Yes,” said Johannes, “I know you are as inquisitive as the monkey. But
come, what is it you wish to know?”
“How long will the voyage from Borneo to Sumatra occupy?”
“If the south-east monsoon continues until we reach Banca we may reckon
our speed at twenty miles a day; but that will be too much to expect,
so we will say fifteen miles a day. Thus the voyage, barring accidents,
will take seven days.”
In such conversation was the time passed during the weary days of
waiting. On the second day after the new moon Baba Poetjieng arrived at
the fort. He pretended that his visit was to fetch away the last of the
dried fish, which concluded his contract with Johannes, but his true
object was to make final arrangements and to fix the hour for
departure. The time was favorable. A native had just died of cholera
and no one would undertake to bury him except the three Dayaks who were
to accompany the deserters. The tide would continue to flow until
half-past ten and would be followed by a rapid ebb. All chances were
therefore in their favor. As evening fell the four allies crept into
the hut of Johannes, where they remained concealed until it was quite
dark. They then stole out one by one, and passing behind the shrubs
which lined the banks of the river, they reached the kampong unobserved
and took their places in the canoe which was to carry the deceased to
her last resting-place. About ten the coffin was taken to the boat, and
at eleven o’clock came the priestesses who were to chant the hymns for
the repose of the dead.
The ebb tide had already commenced when they arrived; the two canoes
therefore pulled away immediately from the landing-stage and passed the
fort, with the results already known.