IN LUCK AGAIN.
About three weeks later, a bark, whose storm-beaten and weather-stained
appearance showed traces of a long and tempestuous voyage, cast anchor
in the port of Batavia. Among the first to land were a couple of men
who, although dressed in the garb of common sailors, yet displayed
the most palpable evidence that they belonged to some other sphere in
life. They presented a strange contrast to one another. The taller of
the two, it was easy to see by his well-shaped hands and feet, by his
clear-cut features, and by his general bearing, was a gentleman by
birth and education, whereas his companion had evidently sprung from
the lower classes.
“Safe at last,” muttered the former, who was no other than Frederick
von Waldberg. “As long as I was on board that ship, I always had a kind
of feeling that we were in danger, somehow or other, of being delivered
up to the French authorities. I can't help thinking that the skipper
had his doubts as to the authenticity of the story which we told him.”
“At any rate, he kept his own counsel about it,” replied his companion,
with a laugh; “and here we are at last beyond the reach of our friends,
the ‘gardes chiourmes’ (prison warders). Just look at this! How
different from La Nouvelle! (New Caledonia). The very air seems to reek
with prosperity and wealth. See those houses there. How glorious it
would be to have the looting of one of them!”
“Hush, you idiot!” exclaimed Frederick. “There must be lots of people
here who understand French, and I don't suppose that you want everybody
to know who you are.”
“They will find it out soon enough, to their cost,” replied the other,
under his breath, as they strolled on.
Frederick and his fellow-convict had been in the last stage of
exhaustion when rescued by the Dutch bark, which was on its way from
Amsterdam to Java, and during the first three days were unable to
give any account of themselves. On recovering, however, they informed
the skipper that they were the solitary survivors of a French vessel
engaged in the Polynesian trade. They asserted that the boat had broken
loose from the sinking ship before its full complement of the crew had
been embarked, and that, owing to the darkness, and to the gale which
prevailed, they were unable to return to the ship.
During the time which had elapsed since their break for liberty, both
their hair and beards had grown, and moreover they had taken the
precaution to remove from their scanty attire all traces which might
have revealed the fact that it had formed part of the garb of a French
convict.
They now found themselves in a strange country, without a cent in
their pockets, and without any honest means in view of obtaining
a livelihood. The very clothes on their backs they owed to the
charity of the sailors of the bark. They applied at several of the
great warehouses and stores for employment, and, meeting with no
success, then addressed themselves to the occupants of several of the
magnificent villas in the suburbs, begging for food and money. The
Dutch, however, are not of a particularly generous nature. If they
err, it is on the side of economy and excessive caution. Everywhere
Frederick and his companion were met with the same response, “Apply
to your consul.” As this was about the last person to whom the two
ex-convicts would have dreamed of addressing themselves, there seemed
to be every prospect that they would spend the night in the open air,
and remain both dinnerless and supperless. They were just about to turn
their steps once more in the direction of the port, when suddenly a
man who had been watching them for some few moments as they wandered
aimlessly along, stepped across the street, and inquired in German
what they were looking for, and whether he could be of any assistance
to them. Frederick at once replied in the same language that they were
destitute and starving, and that they were exceedingly anxious to
discover some means of earning a decent living.
“Have you tried any of our merchants and storekeepers?” asked the
stranger.
“Yes,” replied Frederick; “but it is a hopeless task. It appears, from
what they say, that they all have more employees than they know what to
do with.”
“How would you like if I were to obtain for you this very night the
sum of fifty guilders apiece, and an agreeable means of livelihood for
several years to come?”
Frederick's face brightened visibly as he replied:
“Of course we should be delighted, and exceedingly grateful to you. Do
you mean it seriously? It would be cruel to joke on such a subject with
men in our position.”
“I can assure you,” rejoined the stranger, “that I am thoroughly
serious about the matter. What I propose to you is that you should
enlist in the Dutch Army here. You know that the colonial troops
receive a high rate of pay. The promotion is rapid, the duties are
light; and although certificates of good conduct in the past are
required, yet your face inspires me with such confidence, and your
destitute appearance with such sympathy, that I am prepared to give the
authorities the requisite guarantees in your behalf.”
Frederick quickly communicated the friendly offer to his companion,
and after a few minutes' consultation, they decided on accepting it,
with many thanks. It was indeed a perfect godsend for them, and it is
impossible to say what would otherwise have been their fate.
Shortly before nightfall, and after providing the two men with a good
square meal, the benevolent stranger accompanied them to the railway
station, and took the train with them to “Meester Cornelis,” the great
central depot and headquarters of the Dutch Army in the East. On
arriving there, an hour later, he conducted them to the bureau of the
chief recruiting officer. After undergoing examination by a regimental
surgeon, who pronounced them physically fit for active service, they
were duly enrolled as soldiers of a regiment of fusileers. Their
friend, thereupon, having obtained a voucher from the recruiting
officer, proceeded to the paymaster's bureau, where a sum of money was
counted out to him on presentation of the document. Of this amount he
handed fifty guilders to each of the two men, and then bade them adieu,
and left them in charge of the sergeant who had piloted them through
the barracks.
It is probable that neither Frederick nor his companion would have been
so effusive in their protestations of gratitude toward the stranger,
had they been aware of the fact at the time that he had appropriated to
himself the major portion of the bounty of three hundred guilders which
becomes the property of every European recruit who takes service in the
Dutch Colonial Army.
The latter, which numbers some 27,000 men, is composed of men of almost
every nationality. Germans and Swiss form the major portion of the
foreign element, which comprises, however, many Russians, Frenchmen,
Englishmen, and Americans. At least half of all these are men who have
previously occupied a more elevated rank in life. Ruined clubmen,
bankrupt merchants and traders, fugitive cashiers and dishonest clerks,
and a large sprinkling of deserters from the various European armies,
figure largely among the contingent. Among the corporals and simple
privates are to be found men who have held even colonels' commissions
in the Prussian and Austrian Armies, while once prominent but now
ruined noblemen, such as the two Counts E——, of Berlin, and Prince
R——, of Vienna, are to be seen figuring as mess-sergeants, and even as
orderlies of half-educated and coarse Dutch infantry officers. Indeed,
there is scarcely a foreigner in the Dutch Colonial Army who has not
some sad or dark history attached to his name. Few of them ever return
to their native land, for the climate of Java is deadly. It has been
calculated that, of all the men who enlist, not more than thirty-five
per cent. live through the whole period of their service. Of the 27,000
men who constitute the army, an average of at least 6,000 men are
permanently on the sick list and _hors de combat_.
The name under which Frederick had been enrolled was Frederick Gavard,
of Alsace, while his companion had described himself as Charles Renier,
of Paris.
During the next three years Frederick and his fellow fugitive endured
all the hardships of a soldier's life. Frederick had now learned
how to control his former ungovernable temper, and had acquired the
conviction that there is much more to be obtained by concealing one's
real sentiments and by biding one's time than by any headstrong act
of violence. Although he kept his hands free from crime during this
period, yet it must not for one moment be gathered therefrom that his
moral character had undergone any improvement. On the contrary, he was
a far more dangerous character now than he had ever been before. It
was but the absence of a suitable opportunity for making a profitable
_coup_ that prevented him from adding to his list of crimes.
By dint of the most careful observance of the regulations, by his
remarkable intelligence, and by the evidences which he displayed of
having undergone a most careful military training, he had succeeded in
working his way up to the rank of sergeant. He was regarded with favor
by his superiors and respected by his inferiors. Curiously enough he
had kept himself free from any of those entanglements with native women
which constitute the bane and shadow of a soldier's life in the East.
At any rate, if he was engaged in intrigues of that kind they were kept
secret from everybody.
The chief trial and annoyance to which he was subjected was the
difficulty which he experienced in getting rid of Charles Renier, the
companion of his flight from New Caledonia. The man was constantly
getting into trouble and appealing to him for assistance and for
money. Frederick dared not refuse him, as he was afraid that he would
disclose his past history. Hardly a month elapsed without Charles being
sentenced for some scrape or other to receive “twentig Rietslagen”
(twenty blows from the terrible Malacca cane of the corporal), and he
was on the high-road to terminate his military career by the “strop,”
as the gallows is called out there. At length, catching sight one day
of a corporal in the act of leaving the rooms inhabited by the dusky
Mme. Renier for the time being, he threw himself upon him and thrashed
him to within an inch of his life, showing thereby the superiority
of the French “Savatte” over the Dutch “Boxie!” Indeed, he left the
unfortunate man in a shocking condition, his jaw broken, and one of his
ears partly torn from his head. Then, bursting into the woman's room,
he seized the faithless damsel by the throat and kicked and pounded her
into unconsciousness. After these exploits, well knowing that if caught
he would probably be court-martialed and hanged, he deemed it prudent
to show a pair of clean heels, and on the following morning his name
was posted up as that of a deserter, and a reward was offered for his
capture.
It may incidentally be stated that there are no less than an average
of three hundred to four hundred desertions every year in the Dutch
East Indies.
A few weeks later Frederick, who had meanwhile been promoted to the
rank of pay sergeant, was walking quietly along one evening after dark
in the outskirts of Padang, when suddenly he was startled by a strange
noise proceeding from behind a clump of bushes. A second later he heard
a voice calling gently, “Wolff! Wolff!” Frederick started violently,
for there was no one in the colony who knew him by the name under which
he had been sentenced for murder at Paris, excepting Charles Renier.
Before he had time to recover from his disagreeable surprise the face
of his former fellow-convict showed itself peering through the branches
of a “summak” bush.
“Come nearer. I don't want to be seen, and I must speak to you.”
“What is it?” said Frederick, angrily, as he approached. “You know I
can't be seen talking to you. A price has been set on your head, and
were it to be known that I had held any communication with you without
delivering you up to the authorities I would be court-martialed. What
is it you want? Money again?”
“No, not from you at any rate.”
“Well, then, what is it? Explain quickly! I have no time to lose!”
“All I want is your assistance in a little business transaction of my
own invention.”
“A pretty kind of transaction that must be.”
“I assure you it is. I am very proud of it. It is the finest _coup_
imaginable, and you know that you have always put me off with the
assurance that if ever anything really good turned up I might rely upon
you to take a hand in it.”
“Well, speak, man! What is it? Don't keep me here the whole night!”
exclaimed Frederick, who began to feel interested.
“It is merely this: The boat from Batavia, which arrived yesterday,
brought a considerable amount of specie for the payment of the troops
here. I know that you have been promoted to the rank of pay-sergeant,
and that you have been ordered to sleep on a camp-bed in the office
where the safe containing the money is placed.”
“What of that?” inquired Frederick.
“I want you to allow yourself to be surprised to-morrow night, when
I and a few of my ‘pals’ will creep in by the window and take a look
at the safe with some profit to ourselves. There will be no danger
for you, as we shall tie you down to your bed and gag you, so as to
convince the authorities that it was no fault of yours if the money is
gone. The only thing I want for you to do is not to give an alarm when
you hear us coming.”
Frederick began by firmly refusing to have anything to do with the
matter. But upon Renier, who had nothing more to lose, threatening
him to make public the fact that he was nothing more than an escaped
convict under sentence to penal servitude for murder, and as such
extraditable, he gave way and promised to do what he was asked in
return for a share in the proceeds of the robbery.
On the following night some six or seven figures might have been seen
creeping noiselessly through the gardens of the bungalow, on the first
floor of which were located the paymaster's offices. The leader of the
gang, having climbed up on the roof of the veranda, followed by two of
his men, gently pushed open a window which had been left ajar. A moment
later two pistol-shots rang out in rapid succession, followed by a loud
cry. A second afterward another shot was heard.
[Illustration: HOW HE RID HIMSELF OF ONE BURDEN.]
Immediately the whole place was in an uproar. On entering the room
the officers found Frederick Gavard, the pay-sergeant, standing guard
over the safe, while near the window lay stretched the dead body of
the deserter, Charles Renier, and on the roof of the veranda outside
lay another corpse, also of a deserter, shot through the head. In
the garden and on the flower-beds were traces of numerous footsteps,
showing that the house had been attacked by a large gang.
Six weeks afterward the troops at Padang were formed into a square,
and the officer in command of the place summoned the pay-sergeant,
Frederick Gavard, from the ranks, and pinned on his breast the silver
cross which had been conferred upon him by the Governor-General of the
East Indies for his gallantry in defending the treasure chest of the
cantonment against heavy odds.
[Illustration: FREDERICK GETS THE SILVER CROSS.]
At no period of Frederick's career did his prospects seem more
promising than now. Renier, who had been the only person in the colony
who was acquainted with his past record, was dead, and instead of
being punished as he might have been for putting an end to the days
of the man who had possessed so dangerous a knowledge concerning him,
he had been rewarded for the deed as if it had been one of the most
brilliant feats that he could possibly have accomplished. Not only had
he received a decoration ordinarily conferred for acts of valor on the
field of battle, but about three months later he had the pleasure of
learning that he had been promoted to the rank of a lieutenant. His
colonel, who had taken a great fancy to him, now frequently invited him
to his quarters, where he spent many agreeable hours.
The regiment having been transferred to Batavia, he had the opportunity
of meeting at his colonel's house all the most prominent members of the
Dutch East India Society. The colonel's young wife was extremely fond
of amusements of all kinds and held open house. Many were the dinners,
soirees, balls, or croquet parties which Frederick helped her to
organize; besides this, he often accompanied her to the houses of her
numerous friends, where his good looks, charming manner, talents, and
witty conversation soon made him a universal favorite.
Among the most brilliant entertainments of the season was a superb
ball given by a Mr. and Mrs. Van der Beck, who were intimate friends
of the colonel and his wife. The dance was preceded by some private
theatricals. The piece performed was “La Belle Helene,” the role of
Paris being filled by Frederick and that of Helene by Mme. Van der
Beck, who, although no longer in the first bloom of youth, was still
a remarkably handsome woman. Tall, with magnificent auburn hair and
lustrous hazel eyes, she was, like many of the Dutch ladies in the far
East, slightly inclined to embonpoint, a disposition due to their lazy
and indolent existence and to the high living in which they indulged.
When, in the second act of the operetta, she made her appearance in
the great scene with Paris she was greeted with a murmur of admiration
and approval. Her skirt of primrose-colored satin was parted, Greek
fashion, from the hem to the hip on the left side in such a manner
as to reveal an exceedingly shapely leg, and her magnificent hair,
loosened and falling far below her waist, covered her low-cut and
gold-embroidered “peplum” like a royal mantle. Frederick as Paris, in a
costume of pale-blue and silver, looked like a Greek god, and when they
began the “duo du Reve” a perfect storm of applause broke out. It was
noticed by many of those present that Mme. Van der Beck acted her part
with rather more fervor and feeling than might have been considered
strictly necessary for a drawing-room performance. However, as Mr. Van
der Beck himself was in raptures about his wife's acting, there was
nothing more to be said in the matter.
From that time forth Frederick became a constant visitor at the Van
der Beck villa, and strange to say, was as great a favorite of the
husband as he was of the wife. Mr. Van der Beck was one of the most
prominent and wealthy merchants of the East India trade, and owned vast
warehouses, not only at Batavia, but also at Rotterdam and Amsterdam.
[Illustration: LEFT IN CHARGE OF MRS. VAN DER BECK.]
The life in these Dutch colonies is an extremely agreeable one.
Hospitality is practised on a scale unknown in Europe. No invitation
is considered necessary to dine or lunch with one's friends, for
everybody keeps open house, and an addition of half a dozen impromptu
guests at the dinner-table is quite an ordinary occurrence. The ladies
in particular are accustomed to a life of such indolence and ease that
they are utterly incapable of doing anything for themselves. They lie
all day on their sofas or in their hammocks, clad in diaphanous muslin
peignoirs, eating bonbons, smoking cigarettes or drinking small cups
of coffee. In the cool hours of the evening, however, they seem to
wake up, and go to the dinners, balls, and the theater, and are then
as lively and loquacious as possible, banishing their laziness and
languor till the moment when they return home and have nobody except
their husbands to fascinate.
Some time had elapsed since Frederick had made the acquaintance of the
Van der Becks, when one day a letter arrived from Holland informing
Mr. Van der Beck of the death of his eldest brother, and demanding his
immediate presence in Amsterdam. As it was the worst season of the year
for traveling, and he was extremely solicitous of his wife's health,
he decided that it would be imprudent for her to accompany him. Madam
submitted to this with much more equanimity than she usually displayed
in her relations with her lord and master, and three days later,
escorted by Frederick, she accompanied her husband to the steamer. As
Mr. Van der Beck's absence was to last six months, if not more, he
intrusted his wife with all the interests of his house and business and
even with the signature of the firm. She was a remarkably clever and
shrewd woman, and had on more than one occasion given him proof of her
ability in business matters. In taking leave he especially recommended
her to the care of Frederick, adding that he knew how much he could
depend on the young man's friendship and devotion.
The deep mourning necessitated by the death of so near a relative
forcing Mme. Van der Beck to withdraw entirely from society, she was
now free to devote all her time to Frederick, with whom she became, as
the days went by, more and more infatuated. Strong-minded as she was in
all other respects, she seemed to have surrendered her whole will-power
to the young officer, whose word was absolute law to her. He spent
all the hours he could dispose of with her, and their intimacy grew
apace. Frederick, as has been seen often before this, knew how to make
himself perfectly irresistible to women. His manners were caressing
and winning, and this, added to his numerous talents and good looks,
made him a very dangerous friend for a woman like Nina Van der Beck,
who had reached that period of life when the passions are most easily
aroused. When a woman on the wrong side of thirty-five falls in love
she is generally apt to make a much greater fool of herself than a
girl would do, and if the man she loves is some years her junior she
invariably makes an absolute idol of him, anxious, as it were, to make
up in devotion and self-sacrifice for all that she feels may be missing
in other respects.
As to Frederick, he at last began to see his way to bringing to a close
his stay at Batavia, of which he had become heartily sick. By means of
the most insidious suggestions and advice, he prevailed upon Nina to
cautiously and gradually realize all her husband's available property.
This, added to her own fortune, which was considerable, rendered
her a very desirable prize indeed, and Frederick had all reason to
congratulate himself on his luck.
Mr. Van der Beck had been absent a little over four months, when
Frederick one day applied for a four weeks' leave of absence. This was
readily granted by his colonel, with whom Frederick had remained on the
most excellent terms.