nothing could be more strange, and indeed awful, than the contrast between the fair face of nature and the hideous cruelty which man was about to perpetrate on that little sequestered spot on the north coast of java.
the storm which had been raging furiously during the night had now fallen to a fresh yet warm breeze. the leaves of the singular forest of mangrove were softly rustling in the wind, and the waves, which a few hours ago were madly dashing on the shore, now were quietly running up the beach with pleasant and melodious murmurs. indeed, the prospect from the hut over the little bay of the moeara tjatjing, enclosed by its two headlands, was picturesque in the extreme. under the bright beams of the early morning sun, the intense blue of the sea was glittering [27]with indescribable purity and brilliancy, the surface of the ocean was still heaving, the waves still were following each other as in pursuit, here and there a breaker might still be seen topped by a snow-white cap of foam; but there was nothing angry in the scene. the bosom of amphitrite still heaved, but all fierce and angry passions seemed to have died away. at some little distance from the land the schooner kiem ping hin was dancing on the water, rising and falling gracefully, while the british ensign floated at the peak.
just in front of the hut, in which took place the stormy scenes we have described in the former chapters, and close by the small group of “saoe” trees we have mentioned, there stood a clump of “niboeng” palms. straight and smooth as candles were their stems, and high up in the air their feathery tops were waving to the breeze. on all sides, excepting on that of the sea, the mangrove wood, with its maze of tangled roots, surrounded the hut as with an impenetrable wall.
the bay to which lim ho and his attendants had dragged their unhappy prisoners was thus perfectly lonely, closely screened from every human eye.
as soon as they had arrived at the spot, lim ho made a signal to his men. in an instant the prisoners had their clothes torn from their bodies, and stark naked they were firmly lashed to the smooth stems of three palm trees. the ropes, which had already served to confine the limbs of dalima, now were used to tie ardjan and the two chinese spies to the trunks of these trees, which, to them, were to become stakes at which they were destined to endure the most excruciating agony. the victims knew well what was in store for them, and kept anxiously looking round to see what would happen; their eyes, however, glaring around with wild terror, could not, at once, discover what they sought, and what they were every moment dreading to see. although the tropical sun was burning down on their backs, yet they were trembling in every limb, as if shivering with cold; their hands were fastened high up above their heads, and the ropes were passed round their loins and knee-joints. thus they could not make the slightest movement without extreme pain, for the ropes being plaited of “iemoetoe” were hard, rough, and prickly.
suddenly than khan uttered a startled cry, he had been anxiously looking round, and he now saw a couple of sailors coming up from the wood, each carefully bearing a bundle of leaves. the wretched man knew at a glance that the hour of [28]torture was at hand. the leaves which the sailors bore well deserve description. they were broad and heart-shaped, and were attached to twigs resembling brushwood. the edges of the leaves were roughly jagged like the teeth of a saw, and their upper and under surfaces were covered with white hairy down. they were leaves of the “kamadoog,” the devil thistle, the most terrible plant perhaps which the earth produces. with infinite precaution—a precaution which needs no explanation—the javanese sailors made, of these leafy twigs, three broom-like scourges, around the handles of which they carefully wrapped some grass and bits of rag. when he saw his men thus armed, lim ho gave the signal to begin. three sailors stepped up to the victims, and with the twigs began to strike their backs, their loins, their thighs, and the calves of their legs. then was enacted a hideous, but most curious scene. it was not, properly speaking, any scourging at all, the blows which they inflicted were as light as possible; they rather flipped or stroked the flesh of their victims, and it looked as if they were engaged in simply driving away insects or troublesome flies from the naked bodies. now and then, one or other of them would give a somewhat harder flip, as if some obstinate fly refused to be dislodged from the spot. but the features of the unfortunate wretches, who were suffering this apparently playful scourging, were in horrible contrast with the seeming gentleness of the treatment. the faces of ardjan and of his companions in misfortune were actually distorted with terror, their eyes were starting from the sockets. wherever those dreadful leaves lightly fell on the skin, the body at once shrunk away in pain, the limbs began to quiver, the muscles began to work up and to stiffen in knots, as if drawn together by violent cramp. but still that gentle flicking and stroking went on. the sufferers began to writhe and twist about their bodies in intolerable anguish. still the heartless executioners went on with their hideous task. the miserable victims panted for breath, a low, most pitiful moaning escaped from their lips; they gnashed their teeth with agony, they bit their lips until the blood came; but all to no purpose—nothing could bring them relief.
“have mercy, sir,” they moaned with the piteous wail of a dying child.
but lim ho had no mercy to show his wretched victims, he waved his hand to the executioners, who, at that sign, entirely changed their mode of operation, and now the gentle fanning [29]was replaced by a severe downright flogging. the blows, laid on with the full strength of the sailors, rained down upon the bare bodies of the tortured wretches, their skin resounded under the pattering of the leaves, which, less barbarous than the men who wielded them, began to tear and fly from their stems.
as soon as that flogging commenced, the prisoners no longer moaned, they roared, they yelled, they howled with anguish. it was the cry of a wild beast wounded to death, which gathers up its remaining strength for one dying roar.
the limbs of the miserable men now not only shrank and writhed; but with the convulsive energy which only such extremity of torture could lend, they clasped with their legs the smooth trunks of the trees, they seemed to try and sink into them and bury themselves in the wood. it was an awful spectacle, and yet, strange to say, no wounds could be seen, no contusions, no livid spots even; nothing at all in fact to account for such unheard-of suffering. the skin only looked somewhat puffy, somewhat red and inflamed, and covered with very small blisters. the wounds which the bodies of the victims bore were serious enough, it is true; but they had nothing to do with the leaves of the terrible nettle. in their almost superhuman efforts to burst their bonds, and in their frantic contortions, the sufferers had forced the ropes into the flesh, and here and there the strands had cut their way to the bone, so that streams of blood were pouring along their arms, along their thighs and loins, and were forming broad red spots on the soft slippery soil. that anguish must have been acute enough in itself; but it was nothing compared to the torture occasioned by the leaves of the devil-thistle.
at length the instruments of torture had become well nigh stripped, there was left in fact only the bare twigs, on which here and there a few tattered leaves were still dangling, the poisonous leaves lay scattered in all directions, faded, torn, and shapeless about the feet of the sufferers. but, even then, lim ho did not think of causing the torture to cease, he seemed to be bent on utterly destroying his victims. he ordered the men to stop for a few moments. it was not because he felt any pity. not at all, he merely caused the half dead bodies to be sprinkled with salt water, which, if possible, augmented the torments they endured. the monster was, in fact, on the point of resuming his inhuman flogging, when suddenly a cry was raised, “the police, the police!” [30]
in furious haste lim ho and his assistants flew up to the tortured chinamen. in a moment they had severed the cords which bound them to the trees, and the next instant they were dragging the wretches who were curling and twisting in their agony along the rough path which led to the landing-place where their boat lay moored. two of lim ho’s men would have performed the same office for ardjan, but the shouts of the rescuing party became louder every instant, the men were stricken with panic, took to their heels, and with all speed rejoined their retreating comrades.
they got to the boat just in time, for they had no sooner got into her, before five or six policemen led on by dalima and closely followed by a crowd of people came to the spot.
“allah,” exclaimed the young girl as she caught sight of ardjan, who was still tied up to the tree, moaning with pain, and whose almost lifeless body was hanging like a sack in the somewhat slackened ropes; “allah, what in the world have they done to him!”
in a moment the unfortunate man was surrounded, his bonds were severed, and he was laid down gently on a mat which somebody had run to fetch from the little watch-house. but he could not utter a word. he yelled with pain, and rolled about on the ground writhing like a crushed worm.
“oh, my god!” he moaned most piteously, “i am in pain! in pain!”
“where is the pain?” cried dalima, as she sat crouching down beside him.
“it is the kamadoog,” the sufferer managed to say between his sobs of anguish.
“the kamadoog!” cried the bystanders in horror.
it was plain enough now. one of the spectators had taken up a few torn leaves, and at once recognised the terrible nettle. every man in the crowd turned pale with horror. and truly the kamadoog is a dreadful plant. the slightest contact with its formidable leaves occasions a violent itching, painful as a severe burn; and, when used as an instrument of torture, it causes the most intolerable suffering, for at least seven days; it makes the limbs stiffen, and produces a burning fever, which not unfrequently ends in the most painful death.
“has anyone here any ‘sirihkalk?’?” (chalk made of sea-shells) cried dalima.
some few of the bystanders had with them the “sirih,” which they are fond of chewing. they unwrapped the sirih-leaf [31]in which were the pinang-nut, the chalk, and the tobacco, which form this highly-prized chew, and gave the chalk to the girl, who hastened to anoint the sufferer with the paste-like alkali. but, unfortunately, so great was the surface which had been exposed to the stroke of the hairy leaves, that the supply of “sirih-chalk” was altogether inadequate, and only a very small portion of the blisters could be treated with the remedy. dalima was in despair. there was nothing else for it but to carry ardjan into the hut, which afforded a shelter from the burning sun. then some of the men hurried away to fetch a supply of oil and chalk, which they hoped would mitigate the pain, and check the fever. by evening, if all were well, ardjan might perhaps have so far recovered as to bear the fatigue of being moved to more convenient quarters.
while these remedies were being applied to poor ardjan, the boat in which lim ho had put off, was being rowed past the djaga monjet, and was getting out of the little bay. the policemen stood on the shore calling to the crew to come back; but no one took the slightest notice of their summons, and, as they had no firearms with them to enforce obedience, the only reply they got was a derisive cheer, and a shout of defiance.
as he rowed by the djaga monjet, lim ho had plainly recognised dalima, who, actively employed in assisting her tortured lover, was running about, in and out, here and there.
the sight of her literally maddened the brutal chinaman; he was on the point of ordering his boat’s crew to return and row to land. but, in another instant, he came to himself, and recovered his reason. it would indeed have been the act of a madman to try and carry off the girl just then. he knew that he could place great dependence upon the power of his gold; but yet, in full daylight, in the very face of all those people, he felt he could hardly try its influence upon the native police. so he could only shake his fist in impotent rage, and the word to return remained unspoken.
the boat swiftly glided out of the moeara tjatjing, and at once made for the kiem ping hin, which was already loosening her sails, and waiting impatiently for the return of her boat’s crew. as they mounted the deck, captain awal boep said came up to report to lim ho that the smoke of a steamer could just be seen on the horizon. “probably,” he added, “it is the matamata, she was here yesterday.”
“those white blockheads,” muttered lim ho, with a [32]scornful laugh. “at night they have their coloured lights up, and we can tell them miles away. by day they take care to send up a cloud of smoke which no one can mistake. i will bet they have not discovered us yet, while we have had our eye on her ever so long ago.”
“it is the guard-ship, sir, likely enough. what are your orders?” said the captain.
“the wind has risen somewhat with the sun,” replied lim ho. “set sail at once, and steer for bali.”
a quarter of an hour later, the kiem ping hin was gracefully heeling over to the freshening breeze, and, under full sail, was flying to the eastward. when, much later on, the matamata came to the moeara tjatjing, the smuggler, an excellent sailing craft, was on the horizon; she was nothing more than a faint white speck on the deep blue sea. the clumsy old guard-ship, which, under favourable circumstances, could not make more than six knots, and might perhaps do eight knots under extra pressure, had not the smallest chance of overtaking the rakish schooner, running eleven knots before the breeze. in less than an hour, the vessels were out of sight of one another altogether.
meanwhile, what had befallen dalima that she thus managed to come up at the right moment of time to rescue ardjan from compulsory exile? as soon as she had succeeded in gnawing through the rope which tied her wrists, no very difficult task for her sharp white teeth—she plucked asunder the knots by which her feet were confined. that did not take long, and with a gesture of contempt she flung the cords aside and was hastening from the spot. for a moment or two, however, she stood still, considering whether she ought not to go straight to the djaga monjet, perhaps she might be of some service to ardjan. at that moment, however, she caught the voices of the two chinamen who were coming down the pathway in quest of her. this at once brought her to a decision and thoroughly terrified she ran off at the top of her speed in the opposite direction. as she was speeding along she made up her mind to go straight to her mistress and implore her aid. but, the question was, would she listen to her story, would she help her? well, if she would not, then she would go to the resident, he surely could not refuse to hear her.
thus, like a hunted roe she flew along, the thick forest had no terrors for her, she was a true child of nature and knew [33]her road well, and so, in a few seconds, she had disappeared among the tangled roots of the mangrove.
it was in the early morning that she reached the grounds of the house. the first thing she saw under the half open verandah or “pandoppo” was the resident’s daughter. her young mistress was quite alone, she was lying back in a comfortable rocking-chair and was reading a book in which she seemed wholly absorbed.
so dalima glided very softly into the pandoppo and, without making the least sound, with a graceful motion seated herself cross-legged on the floor close to the maiden who continued gently rocking herself as she read. “nana,” said dalima in the softest whisper which sounded like a gentle sigh, “nana!”
at the sound the young girl gave a sudden start, she dropped her book and springing up from her seat, “siapa ada?” (who is there) she cried half in terror, half in surprise.
the daughter of the resident stood there for a few moments in the rays of the early sun, a perfect picture of loveliness. her forehead of the purest ivory-white was surrounded by a rich mass of glossy dark-brown curls, her nose and chin might have served as models to a sculptor. but, though the features were faultlessly regular, the whole face was full of animation and of life. the lips of the rosiest red and of exquisite form resembled a freshly opened rosebud, the cheeks were tinged with the glow of health and the large deep-brown eyes were full of tenderness and plainly spoke of a gentle and loving disposition within. the neck and bust of the young girl were modestly veiled under the folds of a tastefully arranged “kabaja” which, however, could not hide the well-filled and perfectly rounded form it strove to conceal.
“who is there?” she had cried as startled she had sprung up from her chair.
“it is i, nana,” whispered dalima in a scarcely audible voice.
the fair young girl, whom we have tried faintly to depict to the reader, was called anna. in ordinary conversation the servants usually addressed her as “nonna” (miss). but dalima, either by reason of her youth or it may be because she was shy and gentle of nature, was anna’s special favourite and enjoyed certain privileges with her young mistress over the other servants; she was indeed looked upon in the light of a companion, and so she always used to call her “nonna anna” which was first contracted into “nonanna,” and then [34]became simply “nana.” thus the reader will perceive that the name “nana” has nothing whatever in common with zola’s disgusting production, nor yet with the inhuman monster who made himself so sadly notorious at cawnpore.
at the words “it is i, nana,” anna looked down and no sooner saw dalima seated at her feet than she recovered from her scare. she offered to raise the maiden who, however, maintained her position on the floor of the verandah. “you here, dalima,” cried she; “where in the world have you been? mamma is dreadfully angry with you. where have you come from?”
“nana,” she replied, “i have been carried off!”
“by whom?” asked anna.
“by some of lim ho’s men,” said dalima.
“lim ho?” cried anna now really frightened, “lim ho? what, have you been in his power?”
“yes i have,” said the young girl.
“what, all night?”
“no,” replied dalima, “no, not all night; allah has been my protection and—”
“so, so! that gadabout has come home at last, has she?” cried a voice which caused both the girls to start with terror.
it was anna’s mother, who just then came into the pandoppo without having been noticed either by her daughter or by dalima.
she came straight from her bathroom as was evident from the rich black hair which flowed waving down her back, and had completely wetted the kabaja she wore, while she had covered her neck and shoulders with a bathing-towel of the finest material.
bending her head backwards she drew the towel from under her hair and handed it to the nènèh (old javanese woman) who followed her, with the order to go and dry it immediately.
madam laurentia van gulpendam, whose maiden name was termolen, was a stately matron, fully thirty-five years of age, and was still extremely beautiful. years and maternity had not made much impression upon her charms. she had but one child, anna, and fearing that the natural duties of a mother might impair her beauty, she had confided her daughter to the care of a nurse. in spite, however, of all precautions, the influence of time was now beginning to make itself felt, and though it could not be denied that laurentia carried the load of years proudly enough, yet lately she had found the necessity [35]of bringing certain powders and certain mysterious toilette-confections into requisition, to help out the somewhat fading complexion and (to use an elegant expression of her husband who had had something to do with the sea, and was always interlarding his conversation with nautical terms) to caulk here and there an indiscreet, and too obtrusive wrinkle. here and there also a silver thread might have been detected among the wealth of jet-black hair, had not the nènèh wong toewa, been anxiously watchful, and at its very first appearance plucked out the traitor. the finely formed lips also had begun to lose somewhat of their bright carnation; and the corners of the mouth were beginning to droop. but for these tokens of advancing age also, the nènèh was on the watch. for preserving the mouth she had a sourish kind of fluid prepared from the red ant which she used as “vinaigre de toilette,” and for the wrinkles she had an ointment made of the fat of lizards, in which when boiling hot sundry scorpions and centipedes had met a painful death. but nènèh wong toewa was moreover an old, experienced doctoress, and she had many other wonderful secrets in her possession which she placed at the disposal of her mistress; and if the stately laurentia still kept her lawful lord and master enthralled by her charms,—if the world around was still bound to confess that she was a fine woman,—if her waist, her shoulders, her bosom did still, in a ball-room, attract the greedy, admiring eyes of the men, and awakened envy among the ladies—then to wong toewa a great share of these much coveted honours was due, and often from behind a screen the old crone would stand unobserved and enjoy the triumph of her mistress, and delight in the homage which followed her wherever she went.
laurentia termolen was the daughter of a former resident, and was an exceedingly handsome and agreeable girl when, at the tender age of sixteen, she became the wife of mr. van gulpendam who, at that time, was controller of the home department, and her father’s right hand. though born in india she was of european parents, both on the mother’s and father’s side: and she had had the advantage of an excellent education, that is to say, large sums of money had been lavishly spent upon her. she had had the very best masters in language, in music, in dancing, &c., she had even been sent to holland to receive the finishing touches. now, under ordinary circumstances, she might—nay she would have [36]developed into an excellent woman; but unfortunately for her, these ordinary and favourable circumstances were wanting. for both papa and mamma were people of inordinate ambition, and had, moreover, or perhaps in consequence of that ambition, one ruling passion, the love of display. they wanted to make a great figure in their little world, and to keep up an immense amount of outward show. but all this cost money, much money, very much money, and the means whereby they sought to obtain the necessary dross, were not always such as would bear honest scrutiny. from her earliest childhood, laurentia had heard snatches of conversation, later on she had been present at incidents, and had witnessed family quarrels, in which dishonesty and prodigality strove for the mastery. thus her young mind had, of necessity, been poisoned, and germs of corruption had been planted within her which were sure to bring forth the most lamentable results.
if now, in holland, she had but fallen into good hands, all this might, to a great extent at least, have been remedied, and the poisonous germs within her might perhaps have been stifled or their growth might have been checked. but hers had been the case of so many indian-born children. she had always been looked upon as an object of financial speculation, she had always been considered as a kind of gold mine which her parents intended thoroughly to work and make the most of. thus a mere outward veneer of good manners and a mare “jargon de bon ton” were thought amply sufficient; and of true education and moral development there had, with her, never been any question at all.
now, had but van gulpendam been the right man for it, he might even at the time of their marriage have made a total change in the disposition of the young girl entrusted to his care. but van gulpendam was a man who had gone to india merely to make his fortune, and had but one object, namely, to return as soon as possible, and especially as rich as possible, to his own country. he was therefore the very last man to set an example of honesty and purity, and his intimacy with the termolens had done nothing to counteract the evil that was in him. money-making was his only passion, and his union with fair laurentia had only served to make that sordid principle strike deeper roots into his heart.
after her marriage laurentia’s duty was to follow her husband, who took good care to obtain from his father-in-law [37]none but places in the interior and most remote parts of the island. thus he had become controller at brandowo; after that, assistant resident at bandjar oetara; both of these places where hardly a single european could be found, and where consequently no one could watch the dodges and tricks of the official household.
how he had managed to be on the most excellent terms with the regent who exacted taxes in kind, and at the same time also had the most cordial relations with the representatives of the opium farmers, who found it necessary to throw dust into the eyes of the dutch authorities; and how she had lent out money to the natives on the most exorbitant interest for which she did not scruple to take, as securities, valuable articles such as jewels and heirlooms, all these dirty transactions had remained a profound secret and had not prevented van gulpendam from rising to the position of full resident.
this long isolation had, moreover, the most pernicious effect upon his grasping character, and upon the no less ambitious disposition of his young wife. by continual contact with none but inferiors who bowed down to them to the very ground, the bearing of laurentia had grown to be intolerably arrogant. she had become imperious woman personified, and this grave blemish in her character was so entirely in harmony with her outward appearance, that when she had to appear in public on official occasions in the full dignity of “resident’s wife” she might have served as model for a juno.
such then was the mother of anna van gulpendam, as she suddenly stalked into the pandoppo and at the sight of dalima straightway fired up and cried out: “so! has that slut come in again?”
“now then,” she continued in her wrath, “tell me, you young monkey, where have you been? you have been out, i’ll be bound, dragging about with that lover of yours!”
“pardon, madam!” cried the young girl. “i did not run away. i did not indeed!”
“and you did not leave master leo running about by himself in the garden?”
“i was carried off, madam,” said the young girl.
“carried off!” cried mrs. van gulpendam scornfully, “by whom, pray?”
“by two strange chinamen,” replied dalima.
“how did that come to pass?” asked her mistress. [38]
thereupon dalima gave her mistress a detailed account of her forcible abduction by ong kwat, of which we have made mention above. we ought here to add that “sienjo leo” just mentioned was the son of the resident’s brother, and that the boy had been staying for a considerable time at the residence, his father at that time having his home at billiton.
“and where did they take you to?” enquired mrs. van gulpendam. there was in her voice some little emotion, called forth no doubt by the young girl’s graphic description.
“they took me on board a big ship,” said dalima.
“whose ship was that?”
“i don’t know,” replied dalima. “i had not, however, been on board long before lim ho came—”
“lim ho,” cried mrs. van gulpendam now thoroughly roused!—“lim ho, the son of the rich opium farmer!”
“that is the man,” replied dalima trembling as in utter confusion she still was crouching at the feet of her nonna anna.
a very peculiar smile began to play upon mrs. van gulpendam’s lips, and a very peculiar fire began to sparkle in her eyes. “anna,” said she to her daughter, “i wish you would just go and ask your father if he would like a cup of coffee, and, if he does, get it him; will you?”
the young girl at once took the hint and disappeared.
as soon as she was gone laurentia in feverish haste and with heaving bosom turned to dalima and said:
“well, what then?”
oh! poor dalima understood that look so well, and little as she knew of the world she knew so well why the “nonna” had been sent away. she repressed her emotion however, and calmly enough she said:
“lim ho went to smoke opium.”
“of course, of course,” said laurentia, huskily, “of course he went to smoke opium, before—” it is utterly impossible to convey in words any idea of the expression on the face of laurentia van gulpendam as she allowed the word “before” to slip from her lips. those wildly gleaming eyes, that projecting slightly quivering jaw, those half-open lips which allowed the breath to pass with a slightly hissing sound, and that full bosom heaving convulsively under the wet kabaja—all these were the visible signs of passion raging unrestrained within. that face betrayed the whole story, aye and even betrayed her regret that van gulpendam did not smoke opium. [39]
“well,” she said at length, after having for a few moments stared at dalima; “well, and what happened then?”
“nothing happened at all,” was dalima’s quiet reply.
“nothing,” cried laurentia; “that’s a lie! lim ho would have had you carried to his ship merely to—”
“before he had done smoking,” hastily interposed dalima, “i was rescued.”
“rescued! rescued! by whom?”
“by ardjan,” replied the girl, trembling more violently than before.
“by ardjan? by ardjan?” shouted her mistress. “oh! you filthy creature. now i see it all. of course you ran away from ‘master leo’ to go and have a game with your ardjan, and now you want to put it all upon lim ho. wait a bit, i will—
“gulpendam!” she shouted, “gulpenda-a-m!” so shrill and so sharp sounded her voice as she thus called for her husband, that a couple of servants came rushing in thinking something terrible must have happened.
“call your master!” she cried to them.
“pardon, madam, pardon!” cried poor dalima in wailing tones.
“no, no,” said her mistress, “no pardon for a creature like you.”
