The first stage of the journey was to Tassimalaja, and, leaving Garvet at two, they arrived there in time for dinner. So far as could be judged from a very brief stay during the dark hours and early morning, this seemed a pretty little country town, but the train left early and there was little time to look about. The first important stop was at Maos, where a change had to be made. Among the passengers was an Englishman whom X. had met some ten years before in New York. He was going the orthodox round to Ojoedja and Semarang. The two Englishmen, both experienced travellers, exchanged views as to their respective impressions of Java, and both agreed that, wherever they went, the courtesy and assistance received equalled if they did not exceed any they had met with in other portions of the globe they had trotted over. At Maos their ways separated, though fate brought them together again on board the steamer to Singapore.
Another companion of the journey was a versatile young Dutchman who spoke many languages and proved to be very good company. This gentleman apparently had no great admiration for his fellow-countrymen, as he saw them in Java. He abused with equal impartiality the food and the manner of life, and declared that the Dutch in Java were devoid both of digestion and energy. They were in fact half dead from bad food and too much sleep. This communicative companion also gave his views on the civil service, which had gradually grown from the stage, when anyone could be pitchforked into it, to its present condition, when both brains and interest are required to achieve the entry to its rank. Let a man once get in (the views are those of the communicative Dutchman), his fortune was made, if he only kept quiet and was satisfied to slip along in the common groove. He must implicitly follow prescribed rules and obey his immediate superior blindly, sinking all individual conscience and identity. Should he have views for his own self-advancement or to assist the people, should he economize Government money and reduce the number of road-coolies or police, who actually officiate in the household as cooks, gardeners, or grooms, should he try to set a good example and relinquish perquisites, "that man" exclaimed the speaker "is lost, and had better return to Holland forthwith." Such were the views of his travelling companion, but what opportunity he had had for forming them, and whether they were justified by actual facts, X. did not know, or greatly care, so long as he found his company amusing, which he did until their arrival at Tjilatjap. Here his opinion was somewhat modified, when his voluble companion, profiting by superior experience, annexed the only decent room in the hotel and exulted over the ruse which secured it for him.
When X. first announced in the train that he was bound for Tjilatjap there was a chorus of exclamations, and his companions evidently thought him eccentric. Had he also explained his reason for going, there would have been little doubt on the subject. It was then he learnt that Tjilatjap had formerly been a garrison town, but it had been found necessary to abandon it on account of the high rate of mortality among the troops. It was not till after the change at Maos that the young Dutchman acknowledged that Tjilatjap was also his destination, being probably unwilling to appear eccentric in the eyes of his fellow-countrymen who remained in the Djoeja carriage.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE QUEST CONTINUED—TJILATJAP.
Tjilatjap was reached at midday. The town had an imposing appearance, all the streets being planted with avenues of large trees. X. drove at once to the hotel, where he was given a room like a horse-box with the sun streaming into it. As mentioned above, he subsequently ascertained that his travelling companion had managed to secure the only decent room in the hotel, and X. did not feel any love for the stranger, who had taken what he felt to be an unfair advantage of his local innocence. He only wished he could hand him over to the tender mercies of the most muscular and irritable member of the civil service, after relating how he had libelled it. There was lunch lying ready spread on the table and its appearance was satisfactory. Next day he noticed that this meal was laid hot at 9.30 daily, and left cooling until far on in the afternoon. Being hungry, the distant view of the table looked inviting, and X. prepared for a hearty meal. But his joyful expectation gave way to something like disgust on discovering, what a nearer approach revealed, that each article of food was firmly congealed in its own gravy. But no one else seemed to mind, and a party opposite—father, mother and daughter—ate of these provisions as though they were delicacies hot from the kitchen of the Savoy or Bignon's. Strolling out a little later to smoke a cigarette and try to persuade himself he had lunched, the visitor spied the proprietor of the hotel, his family and some favoured guests, enjoying cakes, and what appeared to be Madeira, and fruit in the verandah. As sleep in that sunbaked oven of a room was impossible, the traveller sent for a carriage and went for a drive. The appearance of all the houses that he passed gave the idea that every one inside them was asleep, but their stillness was counterbalanced by the busy crowds of natives going to and fro along those avenues of wonderful trees.
Later in the day X. sallied forth to call on the Assistant Resident. He had been informed at the hotel that this official was not visible between the hours of 11 a.m. and 7 p.m.—rather a long period of retirement.
As it was growing dark X. walked up to the house, a far superior residence to the one at Garvet. The lady of the house and her family were starting for the evening drive, not daring to venture out before this late hour. The Assistant Resident, apparently a very young man, received his visitor with great cordiality and gave him all the information in his power, promising his assistance if he wished to go further up country. It should be stated that, arrived at Tjilatjap, Usoof's memory received a filip, and he recollected that the town of Jombong, not far off, had been the chief place near his "kampong." On hearing this, the Assistant Resident promised to send a letter to the Wodena or native magistrate of the village, who lived at Soempioet and could let him stay in his house. This exactly met the wishes of X., who had been only wanting an opportunity to see more of the native life in Java, away from the track of hotels and tame curio sellers, who differed but little in one town from another. While the traveller was paying this call, another visitor arrived. This was no less a personage than the President of the Landraad. After they had left, he hospitably invited the Englishman into the club, where they played billiards. The great man made himself most agreeable and was quite ready to impart to his companion all he might wish to hear about the duties of the local government officers. He learnt that the Assistant Resident exercised a very limited jurisdiction as magistrate, and all cases, excepting the most trivial, are brought before the Landraad. The post held by this cheery official was evidently most congenial, and he explained with much satisfaction how he had to be frequently travelling, and what a liberal allowance he could draw while doing so. It need be liberal, thought his hearer, to compensate for a course of feeding in Java hotels. But sympathy on this point was wasted, as the President of the Landraad alluded to the one, at which it appeared they were both staying, and spoke of it as comfortable. Billiards over, it was time to return to the hotel for dinner. This meal, probably more owing to the lamp-light than to any inherent superiority, seemed an improvement on the last one, had not the diners made it unnecessarily uncomfortable by treating it as though it were a hurried snack at the counter of a railway refreshment room. For instance, three or four times during the progress of the meal callers came to see the courteous President, who cheerfully left the table to interview them, returning with equanimity to the discussion of the chilled dishes at whatever stage of the feast he chanced on when he returned. The table was not cleared away after the sorry farce of dinner was over, and X. noticed, as late as ten and even half-past ten o'clock, late diners strolling in to feed on the ever less appetising remains. X. recalled the words of his companion in the train, and thought he at least had some justification for his remarks on the digestions, or the want of them, of his fellow-countrymen in Java.
The chief thing for intending travellers in Java to recollect is the difficulty of obtaining money, since no one will look at a cheque, as people in that country do not use them. It is necessary, therefore, to take ready money and rely upon periodical remittances sent by registered letter from the bank. At Garvet X. had his first experience of pecuniary trouble through having placed confidence in his cheque book, backed by the special permit signed by the Governor General of the Netherlands India. He had invested in some Java ponies and thus outrun all calculations as to expenditure. The hotel people would not look at his cheque, though they certainly looked at the owner of it with the careful scrutiny born of suspicion. Very troubled, he had called at all the chief shops and places of business in the town asking assistance, and assuring merchants of his bona fides, as they scanned his cheque and passed it from one to another as a curiosity such as none of them had ever seen before. At length good fortune appeared in the shape of a Mr. Schmidt. One of those who had endeavoured to grasp some meaning from the cheque, explained that he believed this kind of thing was seen in Europe, and they had better call Mr. Schmidt, who not only had been there within the last two years, but also spoke a little English. X. eagerly seconded the suggestion, and Mr. Schmidt appeared. His verdict was anxiously awaited, but especially by the owner of the cheque, whose future movements must depend on the decision, and his relief was great when the good, the discerning, the up-to-date Mr. Schmidt pronounced in his favour. He declared that, certainly he had seen such cheques before, and generously offered to cash it himself. Thus the situation was saved, and the stranger was able to carry out his arrangements and pay his debts. Good Mr. Schmidt! that stranger remembers you with gratitude. Here, in Tjilatjap, X. was again threatened with penury, for, though he had telegraphed for money, the little registered packet had so far not appeared. Perhaps his bankers could not really credit that he had gone to a place with such a reputation as Tjilatjap. But it was because of this reputation that X. was unwilling to prolong his stay there beyond what was actually necessary, and, therefore, sending off the Malays with the luggage, remained behind, relying upon the arrival of the money by the morning post. He utilised the opportunity of this enforced stay to visit the hospital. The hospitals in the Native States of the Peninsula are perhaps the chief signs of the civilization, of which their Government may be proud, seeing that in them natives of all nationalities are splendidly housed and have the best of medical attendance free. It was, therefore, interesting for the Englishman who hailed from that Peninsula to see how, in a large town like Tjilatjap in Java, these things were done.