He had the good fortune to be most courteously shown over the building by the doctor in charge. It was somewhat of a surprise to find that there were few patients in the hospital, notwithstanding the reputation of the place for fever, and to learn that the average number of sick amongst the natives was not noticeably in excess of other towns.
The whole building was a picture of neatness and cleanliness. The walls were made of bertam (a kind of plaited reed) so as to be easily destroyed and replaced in case of infection. The floors were of cement and raised off the ground. This hospital has only been started two years, and, at the present time, possesses fifty beds. The bathing places in particular merited attention, the floors being tiled, while large tanks of brick and cement contained the water supply—baths are provided for feeble patients. The most elaborate building was the dead-house, where all the latest improvements were to be seen. There was, and is, a European ward where patients can be treated for three guilders a day. Another building, standing a little apart, was for Europeans of a better class who could afford to pay six guilders a-day, "but," the doctor added, "they never come." The hospital is free for all natives, and, contrary to what is frequently the case elsewhere, the authorities seem to experience no difficulty in inducing them to go there. The doctor has one assistant to help him in managing the hospital. He spoke very highly of the native dressers, and said that they frequently turn out well. To X., accustomed to see similar hospitals crowded with Chinese, it was curious only to find one in the whole hospital, and he was the cook.
After his visit to the hospital the traveller went to the post office to ask if his registered letter had come, and was considerably depressed to find that, though the post had arrived, there was no letter by it for him. There was nothing to be done but to accept the information and return to the hotel and think it out. He was alone—servants and luggage had gone, and some ten guilders of money only remained. Where could he find a local Schmidt. The landlord suggested that perhaps the people at the Factory might change his cheque. X. was not certain, but believed the Factory to be the name for the offices of the chief trading firm in Java. Acting on this advice, he took a carriage and drove there. The haughty young gentleman who presided behind the counter received him suspiciously, and at once disdainfully and very firmly refused to have anything to do with the cheque, which he turned over and over in his fingers as though it might bite him, and then returned to its owner.
Bowed out and baffled, the traveller returned to his hotel. The situation was now growing serious, for the train to Soempioeh went in half-an-hour, and, after paying his bill, there would be no money for the fare, even could he start penniless. As a forlorn hope X. sallied forth in the sun to pay one more visit to the post-office. This building was closed, and the hard-worked officials had retired to their private apartments in the back premises. Bold to desperation, the visitor skirted round the post-office and peered into the privacies beyond. Seeing an open door he walked in, and found the chief official in his shirt sleeves partaking of his midday meal. With profuse apologies for his intrusion, X. stated his anxiety about his remittance, and rather feebly asked the officer if he were "quite sure" the letter had not come. "Quite sure," grumbled the official in excellent English, "but to satisfy you I'll let you come and look yourself." X. almost begged him not to take what surely must be superfluous trouble, but, luckily, refrained, and accompanying the officer into the post-office, walked towards a pile of papers stacked in pigeon-holes. "There," exclaimed his guide, "see—see for yourself"; and he did, for on the top lay a blue envelope duly registered and addressed to himself.
Thus the hotel bill was paid, and he caught the train to Soempioeh. There he was met by Abu and messengers from the Wodena, who accompanied him to that officer's house.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE QUEST SUCCESSFUL—THE WODENA'S HOUSE.
The Wodena's house was a comparatively large building made with alang-lalang walls,[4] and the floor on a level with the ground. The entire front of the house was open, though the overhanging eaves of the roof kept out the glare. In the foreground three tables with corresponding chairs were ranged stiffly, as though in a hotel verandah. In one corner was a little cupboard kind of compartment, which X. found was his bedroom.
There was no attempt to cover the floor of bare earth with mats, as would have been the case in even poor Malay houses. At the back of the one large sitting room stood an imposing long table. The outlook of the house was on to some untidy waste land covered with long grass—rather an unusual sign of slovenliness in a country of such universal neatness. Close by a new house was in course of construction for Government use. This building had the somewhat strange combination of alang-lalang walls and a tiled roof. The host who welcomed X. to his house was, as has been said, the Wodena, or local head native magistrate. A Malay in such a position would most certainly have had a courteous manner and have probably been an agreeable companion. This official, though he evidently intended to be cordial, was awkward and seemingly stupid. He also spoke bad Malay, and seemed an ill-educated man for such a position. He wore a terrible old sun-helmet on his head, and presented a grotesque appearance.