THE WEN-NECKED HUNCHBACK, AND HIS REVELATIONS TO PRABU.
“The wen-necked hunchback!”
As at night these words had been the last upon our lips, so were they
the first in the morning.
“I will seek out this fellow at once,” said my brother.
“But _how_, Martin? It would be to look for a needle in a haystack; for
the house and grounds of the Chief Mahomed are well-nigh as large and
intricate as those of the Rajah’s karaton.”
“I will seek Mahomed himself, and beg of him to produce the rogue.”
“A bold notion, truly, but not a wise one; for if, as I suspect, he
be here for Mahomed’s amusement, or, worse, as a spy or an ally in
some secret scheme, such a demand would, in all probability, bring
us a couple of creeses between our ribs. Besides, brother mine, we
cannot be sure the fellow is he whom we seek; for wens and hunchbacks
are so plentiful in these Indian islands, that it can be no uncommon
occurrence to find them met together upon the same person--but here
comes Prabu.”
“Prabu,” said Martin, as that personage joined us, “I am determined to
see this hunchback, even if I demand him of the Chief Mahomed.”
“Is the sahib tired of his life?--it would be madness,” he replied,
hastily. “But,” he added, “it is not necessary; I have discovered where
this man is lodged, and there must we seek him.”
“Where?” asked my brother, eagerly.
“In the second pandapa in the gardens, about a hundred yards to the
back of the palace.”
“Let us hasten,” cried Martin, snatching up his creese from the floor.
“Nay, not so, sahib: we should have to eat dirt, for he is now with the
prince, with whom, for some reason or other, he seems to have become a
great favorite. Let us rest patiently till night.”
With great difficulty Martin curbed his impatience till nightfall, and
then, guided by Prabu, we set out together for the gardens; these we
entered by a small postern in the northern wall, which our guide had
discovered by bribing one of the slaves.
“See,” said Prabu, pointing to a low building--through the chinks
in the wooden wall of which we could perceive the glimmer of a
light--“that is the pandapa; but tread softly, be cautious, or he will
hear our approach.”
We crept stealthily to the boarding and looked through a chink.
“The rascal!” muttered Martin, between his teeth, and placing his hand
upon the haft of his creese.
“Allah preserve us! He is at his incantations,” exclaimed Prabu.
But let me explain to the reader what we saw. The place was lighted by
the dirty yellow flame of an oil-lamp, placed upon a pedestal about
three feet high. At the base of this, upon the boarded floor, squatted,
with his legs crossed beneath him, a hunchback with a wen neck; but his
face we could not see, for his back was towards us. He was intently
watching the figure of a man wrought of wax, robed in yellow, the royal
color, and at the same time muttering some words, in a tongue I had
never heard before.
“The dog!” muttered Prabu. “He is seeking to encompass the death of the
Rajah by enchantment.”
“Hush,” I whispered.
Then he took, from beneath a black cloth lying near at hand, a human
bone, upon which, with a preparation which seemed to me compounded of
blood and charcoal, he proceeded to write a name.
“The dog--the dog!” again muttered Prabu; “it is the Rajah’s name.”
“Hush, hush, Prabu!” I whispered. “Would to Heaven he would show his
face, that we might be sure of our man!” Almost as I spoke my wish was
granted: he arose, and turned towards us the but too well remembered
features.
“Enough, Claud, it is he!” exclaimed my brother; and the next instant
he had passed the threshold, and was struggling with his old enemy.
“Rogue--rogue! thou shalt not escape me this time,” he said, as he
clutched him by the neck almost to suffocation.
“Remove your hands, Martin,” I cried; “you will kill him, and then we
shall learn nothing.”
“True,” replied Martin; but as he pulled forth his pistol and held it
to the hunchback’s head, he said: “Nevertheless, he _shall_ die, if
he attempts to move from this spot without my permission. Now, dog!
thief!” he added, “if thou wouldst live another hour, answer three
questions.”
“Let the sahib put them: Huc-cuk will answer, if not forbidden by the
demons,” replied the old rogue, but with trembling limbs and chattering
teeth;--at which, indeed, there was nothing astonishing, for he stood,
as it were, in the center of a triangle composed of two glittering
creeses (Prabu’s and mine) and a loaded rifled pistol.
“Is the girl whom you stole from Mynheer Ebberfeld’s house alive and
uninjured?” asked Martin.
“As I would save my worthless life, sahib, she is both alive and
uninjured.”
“Good! Now tell me _who_ instigated the crime?”
“A demon, sahib.”
“No trifling, thou rogue!” replied Martin, savagely. “Don’t answer me
with your demons, or I will send thee to sup with them.”
“The gods forbid, sahib: it was a demon, the demon who prompts all men
to crime--poverty. Yes, Huc-cuk was starving, and he stole the girl
that he might get bread.”
“That is indeed candid, thou old rogue!” cried Martin. “Now, tell me,
to whom didst thou sell her?”
“To some wandering merchants.”
“Villain,” cried Martin, “this is false; else how knowest thou she is
even now alive, unharmed, uninjured?”
“Sahib, the merchants who bought her again sold her to be the
handmaiden of a princess.”
“Now, thou rogue,” said Martin, making the lock of his pistol click,
“prepare to die, or answer me truly: Where is she now--where may we
find her?”
The old coward trembled like an aspen leaf, as he replied--
“Let the sahib have patience, while Huc-cuk consults the demons--for
this question he may not answer without their permission;” and then he
buried his face in his hands, and began muttering, or, rather, making
strange, unearthly noises. The result was that in about five minutes,
in bolder tones, he said:
“The sahib may take Huc-cuk’s worthless life; the demons forbid his
answering that question.”
“Enough, then--take the consequences!” cried Martin, passionately: and
he would have shot him there and then, but Prabu dexterously jerked the
pistol in an upward direction.
“Your pardon, sahib, but Allah forbid that you should rob the public
executioner of his fees, for already is this man’s life forfeited to
the laws of Bali.” Then to the hunchback he said, “Well knowest thou
this, O dog of a sorcerer and traitor!”
“Well does the miserable Huc-cuk know that the noble Prabu utters words
of truth,” whined the hunchback.
“Ah!” exclaimed the captain, evidently greatly surprised, “then you
know me?”
“The descendant of the illustrious patriot Surapati is known to every
native-born Javan--is it possible it could be otherwise?”
“Dog!” replied he, sternly; “if thou knowest me as _Prabu_, and as the
descendant of the great Prince, thou also knowest that I will keep my
word. Thus, if thou disclosest the whereabouts of this girl, and we
find her unhurt, unharmed, thou shalt be free to come and to go: if
not, his Highness the Rajah shall take thee in his keeping.”
“The noble Prabu hath commanded--the miserable Huc-cuk will obey; but
the words must be spoken in his ears alone, for so have the demons
willed it.”
“Let us parley with the rogue no longer,” cried Martin.
“Nay,” replied Prabu, “if the sahibs would learn that which they so
much desire to know, they must be patient; let them therefore withdraw
for a time from the pandapa.”
“And leave you alone with this fellow?” said Martin.
“Aye,” replied Prabu, “for the dog hath more to fear from me than I
from him.”
“Prabu is right, we will await without.” Then, taking Martin by the
arm, he permitted me to lead him outside the building.
“That fellow will escape us yet,” said my brother.
“Not so,” I replied--“Prabu knows how to manage him better than either
of us;” and so Martin was compelled to await the result.
After a close and whispered conference of half-an-hour, not one word of
which could we catch, Prabu came forth from the pandapa.
“Well, where hath the rogue hidden our cousin?” we both asked,
anxiously.
“Let the sahibs rest happy and contented--their cousin is safe and
unharmed.”
“But where? How can you be certain of this?”
“Prabu hath said it: do the sahibs doubt his words?”
“No, no!” replied Martin; “yet I cannot--I cannot feel convinced! But,
anyhow, that fellow shall not escape me until I have the assurance
from his own lips;” and so saying, he dashed up the steps and through
the doorway, but then gave such a wail of agony and despair, that,
fearing he might have been suddenly attacked and wounded by Huc-cuk, I
immediately followed him; but there he stood, now speechless with rage,
for the hunchback had escaped.
“Claud, Claud!” he exclaimed, on seeing me, “even Prabu has deceived
us--but bitterly shall he pay for it;” and as the latter came up the
steps, I believe he would have attacked him had I not held him back.
“Martin, my brother, for shame! Have faith in Prabu still--he would
never betray us so cruelly.”
“Give me, then, thou Javan dog!--give me, I say, my cousin or this
hunchback!”
“Javan dog in thy teeth!” exclaimed the descendant of Surapati,
savagely; then, with a smile, he added: “But the poor young sahib
Martin is mad with grief, and forgets that, for his uncle’s sake, the
_Javan dog_ is to him the most faithful of animals.”
“Well,” hotly replied Martin, “the words were wrong--I retract them; I
believe in you, Prabu; but--but I insist upon knowing where our cousin
is hidden.”
“Let the Sahib Martin have patience,” was the quiet reply--“let him
wait. Prabu, who would die fifty deaths rather than betray or deceive
the nephews of the good Councilor Black, swears by the Koran, that the
girl shall be delivered to them safe and unharmed. More than this he
cannot, dare not, must not _now_ say! Will the sahibs trust him?”
“Frankly will I,” said I, shaking his hand; but Martin stood
bewildered, and as if half-ashamed of his impetuosity, yet too proud to
give in. It was, however, but for a moment; then, following my example,
he took him by the hand, saying:
“Prabu, I submit; but, for Heaven’s sake, lose no time in relieving me
from this cruel suspense.”
“The Sahib Martin,” replied the other, “is again himself, and the joy
of having his cousin restored to him will be sufficient recompense for
his present sufferings. But, again, let me assure him that she is safe,
for the hunchback would not have dared to deceive Prabu.”
“But why should he not deceive you?--who can believe one word from the
lips of so great a rogue?” asked Martin.
“There are reasons that I may not now disclose; but one I may. Having
discovered him in the very act of sorcery, one word of mine would
bring down upon him and his whole family, no matter how wide apart
they may be, a dreadful punishment--for terrible are the laws of Bali;
and that word I promised should never be spoken if he could _convince_
me, beyond all doubt, that the girl was safe and unharmed, and that
he did--by what means, for the present, no matter;” and with this
explanation we were compelled to rest content, and so returned to our
lodgings.
_Apropos_ of sorcery, among those of the Indian islands not converted
to Mahomedanism, it is regarded, as of yore in England, as the most
atrocious of crimes, and punished accordingly.
“If,” says the Balinese law, “a man falsely accuse another of sorcery,
and speak publicly thereof, the magistrate shall fine him forty
thousand.” “If a person write the name of another on the winding-sheet
of a corpse, or on a dead man’s bier, or make images of another of
paste, or, writing the name of a man on a slip of paper, suspends it on
a tree, buries it in the earth, deposits it in haunted ground, or where
two roads cross each other, any of these shall be deemed sorcery. If a
man write the name of another on a human bone, with blood and charcoal,
this also shall be deemed an incantation. Whoever is guilty of any of
these practices shall be put to death. If the matter be very clearly
made out, let the punishment of death be extended to his _father_ and
_mother_, to his _children_, and to his _grandchildren_!--let none of
them live!--let none connected with one so guilty remain on the face of
the land, and let their goods be, in like manner, confiscated. Should
the children or parents of the sorcerer live in a remote part of the
country, still let them be sought out and put to death; and let their
goods, if concealed, be brought forth and confiscated.”
This cruel custom of putting to death a whole family for the fault of
one, reminds me of a similar custom among the Japanese, and which is
sufficiently illustrated by the following historical anecdote:--
In the year 1638, the governor of a small province near Jeddo so
oppressed the people, that the Tycoon ordered that he and all his
relations should have their stomachs ripped open, as nearly as
possible, at one and the same hour. He had a brother, who lived two
hundred and forty-seven leagues from Jeddo, in the service of the King
of Fingo; an uncle, who lived in Satsuma, twenty leagues further; a
son, who served the King of Kinocuni; a grandson, who served the King
of Massame, a hundred and ten leagues from Jeddo; and at three hundred
and eighty leagues from Satsuma, another son, who served the governor
of the castle of Quanto; two brothers, who were of the regiment of the
Emperor’s guards; and another son, who had married the only daughter
of a rich merchant, near Jeddo;--yet were all these persons to be
executed precisely at the same hour. To do that they cast up what
time was requisite to send the order to the farthest place; and,
having appointed the day for the execution there, orders were sent to
the Princes of all the places I have mentioned, that they should put
to death all those persons on the same day, just at noon, which was
punctually done. The merchant who had bestowed his daughter on that
gentleman’s son, died of grief, and the widow starved herself.