ON A COFFEE PLANTATION.
The Tji Wangi bungalow--Coffee plantations--
Cinchona--Native labour--A wayang--Country-bred
ponies--Bob and the ducks--Loneliness of a
planter's life.
Horace's remark,[18] "Those that cross the sea change temperature, not
temperament," is especially true of the Englishman out of England. The
room in which I was now seated differed in scarcely anything from the
regulation "den" of every Englishman, whether in Scotland or Timbuctoo.
From the French windows I could see smooth lawns and bright flower-beds,
while beyond appeared the dark green plantations surmounted with grey
mountain heights. Photographic groups and etchings shared the task of
decorating the walls with riding-gear and Indian knives. The
writing-table was strewn with photograph-frames of all sorts and sizes.
The black "boy" who brought tea and whisky and Apollinaris, alone gave a
hint of "foreign parts." The house itself stood 3500 feet above
sea-level; but some of the estate (which covered 800 acres) rose nearly
1000 feet higher still. At this altitude the temperature was never
excessively hot: at midday it averaged 70°; certainly it never
approached the heat of Batavia; and that night I did what I had not done
before in Java--slept with a blanket over me.
[Footnote 18: "Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt."]
The next morning, two handsome Sandalwood ponies were brought round, and
H---- took me over the estate. We rode between coffee and cinchona
plantations on roads of various widths cut in zigzags or curves up the
mountain sides, sometimes with the sun blazing full above us, sometimes
shaded by the light foliage of the albizzias, until we reached a rough
stone monument which marked the highest point. In the higher ranges we
sometimes came upon a piece of bush with the tall rosamala trees still
standing; or caught a glimpse of wide plains, bounded in the far-off
distance by lofty mountains.
[Illustration: ROSAMALA TREES. _Page_ 170.]
On more than one occasion H---- stopped to talk to the natives. They
were engaged in weeding--the heaviest work on the plantation, since, in
the hothouse atmosphere of Java, continual labour is required to keep
down the rapidly growing plants of all kinds, which would otherwise
impoverish the soil and choke the coffee trees. He usually addressed the
_mandors_, or native foremen, but once or twice he spoke sharply to an
idle or careless worker. His method, he explained, was to treat them
with strict justice, but merciless severity: both were necessary to
secure their respect, adding that it was useless for a man who was not
respected to have anything to do with native labour.
It was during many such rides, supplemented by visits to the factory and
long after-dinner talks with many different persons, that I learnt
something of the ins and outs of a planter's life.
Although the Dutch Government are gradually abandoning the "culture" or
"Government-plantation" system, the change is too recent to permit as
yet of the full development of private enterprise in the island. Even
now there are Government plantations in every village, in which the
natives are compelled to work without wages. Of course, it is easy to
undersell the planters by produce raised on these conditions. In
addition to the direct Government competition, they complained of export
duties on their coffee and cinchona, and of _ad valorem_ property taxes
upon their plantations and buildings. Altogether, I gathered, the
planters considered themselves very badly treated; but they had just
formed an association in order to maintain their interests, and to take
concerted action against the assistant-residents and the officials
generally, who sometimes failed to appreciate the benefit conferred upon
the country by the making of roads and other similar improvements.
The average size of the Javan coffee plantations is from 400 to 500
acres. At Tji Wangi there were 500 acres laid down in coffee, and 300
in cinchona. Part of the plantation was new, and H---- had done some
clearing since he had taken over the estate. He described the process.
The first thing to be done was to clear the forest. The trees were
felled; the light timber--underwood and branches--was removed or burnt,
but the huge trunks, bare and blackened, were left upon the ground.
Indeed, I saw many such trunks, affording a curious contrast to the
young plants growing around them. After this, he had formed plantations
of albizzias (a slight, tall tree, with a foliage resembling that of the
accacia), and planted the young trees, when they were sufficiently
grown, at intervals upon the ground he had just cleared. Finally, the
coffee trees, which had been grown from seedlings, and had remained in
the nurseries for a year, were planted in rows, six or seven feet apart,
under the shelter thus provided for them by the albizzias. The coffee
trees do not bear until their third year. At the fifth year they reach
maturity, and then continue in their prime for as long as ten or fifteen
years. Those grown upon the higher, and therefore cooler, ranges will
sometimes remain in first-rate condition for even a longer time.
H---- gathered a branch to show me the berry. It was like an acorn with
the cup taken off in shape, and of a reddish-brown colour. These berries
are harvested ordinarily at the beginning of the dry monsoon, _i.e._ in
April or May. As the coolies are paid in proportion to the amount they
gather, the whole crop is first of all measured. It is then put into a
pulping-machine, and the husk or outer covering removed. The coffee is
now said to be in the parchment, _i.e._ the two lobes of the bean are
still covered by a parchment-like skin, and in this condition the bean
is washed down into the fermenting-tanks, where it remains for
thirty-six hours. After a final washing, it is dried in the sun in large
wooden trays running on wheels, or else on concrete platforms. Most of
the Javan coffee is sent off to Europe while it is still in the husk, in
order that it may present a better appearance in the European markets.
At Tji Wangi, however, the whole work of preparation was done on the
estate.
As is well known, the civilized world is indebted for its increased
supply of quinine to Mr. Charles Ledger, the naturalist. In a subsequent
chapter I have given Mr. Ledger's interesting account of the manner in
which he succeeded, after various adventures, in the course of which
occurred the death of his faithful Indian servant, Manuel, in procuring
a small quantity of _Cinchona calisaya_ seed from Bolivia, part of which
was sold to the British and part to the Dutch East India Governments. It
is from the nurseries thus formed that the plantations of Java and
Ceylon were stocked.
In Java the cinchona is ordinarily grown by grafting slips from a hybrid
or _Ledgeriana_ of known quality on to the _Succirubra_ stem. The
succirubra grows fast, but yields only a small percentage of quinine;
the hybrid contains from ten to sixteen per cent. of sulphate of
quinine. By this device a combination of quick growth and good bearing
qualities is obtained, since the hybrid thus formed bears as freely as
the graft. The cinchona crop is harvested whenever it is convenient,
independently of the seasons, but generally at the same time as the
coffee. The quinine is contained in the bark of the tree. The first crop
of a plantation consists of branch bark. After the plants have been
growing for about six years, a whole row is taken out. In this case the
trees are entirely removed not 'barked' at all, and the whole of the
bark, even that of the roots, is utilized. It is separated from the wood
by beating the stems with sticks or wooden hammers. This is done by
women, who sit in circles round large trays, into which they drop the
bark as it falls off. It is then left to dry, and afterwards collected
and placed in long wooden troughs, where it is stamped fine with heavy
wooden stampers. In this condition it is packed into round bales.
Finally, both coffee and cinchona are transported by coolies to the
nearest railway station.
[Illustration: WOMEN BARKING CINCHONA.]
It is in respect of labour that the Javan planters have an advantage
over those of Ceylon. At Tji Wangi from 125 to 600 coolies were employed
according to the season of the year. They were paid at the rate of 20,
15, and 10 cents (or 4d., 3d., and 2d.) respectively for a man,
woman, or child per day; the mandors, or foremen, however, received from
30 to 40 cents per day. Yet so simple and cheap are the necessaries of
life in Java, that in this district a good master has no difficulty in
getting Javanese or Sundanese natives to work for him at this rate of
payment, and the plantation cooly, in spite of his low wages, manages to
enjoy his two days' holiday every week in the year.
H---- said that the average cost of living per head among his coolies
was not more than 10 cents, or 2d., per day. It should be added,
however, that the rate of wages varies in the different residencies. In
those in which there are large towns, especially in the eastern
districts, the native workers, both coolies and artisans, are paid at a
considerably higher rate than they are in the Preanger Regencies.
I have already mentioned the wayang as one of the most popular
amusements of the natives, and I shall have something more to say about
it in connection with the native literature. At Tji Wangi I had an
opportunity of witnessing this performance in its simplest form, _i.e._
the wayang _klitik_, in which the puppets are exhibited themselves to
the audience instead of being made to project shadows on a transparent
screen. Here, as at most plantations, it was customary for the weekly
market, held after pay-day, to be followed by a wayang.
When I reached the factory I found that the wages were being paid. The
coolies were seated (or rather squatted) on the ground in rows inside
the coffee-washing shed, while H---- sat at a table, with his manager
and foremen standing round him. After receiving their wages, the crowd
of natives flocked through the factory gates to an open space in front
of the storehouse. Here the different itinerant vendors had already
arranged their goods on stalls or on the ground. There were all manner
of cottons and silks, trinkets and hardwares. In addition to these,
queer edibles were to be seen--little dishes of pickled vegetables and
cured fish, fruits and cakes, even gold-fish. These latter were kept in
vessels filled with water, so that the fish could be put back into the
ponds again if they were not sold.
[Illustration: A DALANG. _Page_ 179.]
It was a pretty scene, this crowd of bright-coloured humanity. The skin
of the Javanese is little darker than that of the Italian, and his
clothes are gloriously picturesque. As usual, the hats, jackets, scarfs,
and sarongs displayed every shade of colour and variety of pattern. The
wayang did not begin until the evening. The chief performer, called the
_dalang_, or manager, squatted on the ground before two poles of bamboo
placed horizontally at a height of about three feet, into which he
stuck the puppets, taking them from a box placed by his side. He chanted
a long legendary tale taken from the ancient Javan literature, and
dealing with the times before the European occupation of the island. At
intervals he broke into a dialogue, when he worked the puppets' arms and
legs with wires, so that they seemed to be acting their several parts.
Behind the dalang was a _gamelan_, or series of gongs mounted on a
wooden frame much like an ordinary couch. These gongs were struck with
wooden hammers by other members of the company, and thus served as an
orchestra. It was interesting to observe the deep attention with which
the audience followed the movements of the puppets, and listened to the
recitations and dialogue. H---- said they would sit there listening for
hours, far into the night, without getting tired.
Owing to the restrictive trade policy of the Government, the planters,
as a class, are much more identified with the native princes than with
the Dutch officials. In a subsequent chapter I shall have occasion to
speak of the development of horse-racing in Java, and of the support
which is given to the movement by the native princes. At Tji Wangi I was
shown a recent importation from Sydney--Lonely, who was destined to
lower the colours of the Regent of Tjandjoer recently carried to victory
by Thistle, also an Australian horse. The stables (like everything else
in Java) were built of bamboo. They were kept in first-rate order. The
stalls were occupied chiefly by country-bred ponies, the progeny of the
native races of the neighbouring islands of Sandalwood and Timor.
H---- said modestly that his stud was a very small one, but that if I
would visit a Dutch neighbour I should see a stud of fifteen racers,
beside brood mares. Race meetings and the various social gatherings
connected with them are among the most important resources of the
planter's life. H----'s nearest European neighbours were seven miles
away, and he said that he could seldom entertain visitors at Tji Wangi,
because of the scarcity of game in the neighbourhood. Indeed, the
loneliness of the life is its great objection. The case of the Dutch
planters is rather different. They are often married, and with their
managers, form quite a little society of their own. But an Englishman
rarely has the courage to bring a wife so far from home. In most cases
it is the near prospect of returning with a fortune which alone makes so
isolated an existence bearable.
Under these circumstances, it was not strange that H---- should keep a
number of canine pets. Among them Bob, an English bulldog, was his
favourite. He was as good-natured as he was ugly, seldom misbehaving,
even when tempted beyond doggish endurance by the proximity of dark
skins and waving drapery. On one occasion, however, he did give way to
anger; but it must be admitted that he had provocation. H---- had some
black ducks which he had carefully reared to ornament the little lake in
the garden. One afternoon, when Master Bob was taking his siesta in the
neighbourhood of the kitchen, with his small white teeth protruding,
after the manner of bulldogs, from his black lips, and gleaming in the
light, an unfortunate duck came by. Seeing the white oblong-masses in
the region of Bob's mouth, she very naturally concluded that they were
grains of rice left by the careless quadruped. Acting upon this theory,
she hastily essayed to seize the morsel. The impact of her bill upon his
nose woke Bob in terrible indignation. A short scuffle and a plaintive
quack, and that duck's career was ended. But that was not all. So
serious did the bulldog consider this insult to his dignity that, in
spite of repeated castigations, he never rested until he had killed the
whole of the remaining brood of ducks.[19]
[Footnote 19: Whenever I think of Bob and the ducks I remember
that line of Virgil, in which he tells of Juno's hatred of the
Trojans--"Æternum servans sub pectore vulnus."]
Bob's predecessor in office had been poisoned by a native cook. "But I
got her two months," H---- added, "and told my people that I had sent
for another bulldog from England, and that if they poisoned _him_ I
should send for six more."
"But you once told me you had your house broken into. How did that
happen?" This was in one of our talks in the smoking-room after dinner.
"It wasn't a very exciting business," he replied. "All I know was that
the money was gone the next morning. The night before I was very tired
and slept soundly; when I woke up I found my despatch-box gone. I
summoned my people and set them to look for it; it was found about a
hundred yards away, with the papers in it, but the money gone. About a
month afterwards I discovered that one of the natives had been spending
more money than he could account for, and, by the help of the native
police, I got him convicted and sentenced to transportation for four
years. There were three men concerned, but the others escaped through
insufficient evidence. One of the stable boys had pulled up the bolts of
the front door, and the thieves had quietly walked in, taken the box
outside, and broken it open. It was a mere accident--my putting the
money into the despatch-box instead of into the safe; but, of course, I
took precautions against a repetition of the affair. I had my safe
fastened into the ground, and the two safes at the office were built
into the wall, as you saw.
"Now, you see, they know there's always a revolver here"--pointing to
the desk--"and another by my bedside at night. There are a couple of
guns there, but of course they would not be any good, although the
bowie-knife hanging by them would. I always have two dogs in the house,
one here and one in my bedroom, and there are five or six outside."
[Illustration: COFFEE BERRIES.]