Within a week of our leaving the island behind us, as narrated in the previous chapter, we had brought the Madura coast well abeam, and were dodging along it waiting for darkness to fall in order to get into Probolingo Harbour. Here it was arranged I should leave the yacht and travel by the Nederlands-India line of steamers to Batavia. A vessel of this line, so we had discovered, called at Probolingo about the end of each month, and for this reason our arrival was timed for the afternoon of the day of her departure.
Shortly before three o'clock we brought up at the anchorage, about a mile from the shore. It was a lovely afternoon, and I could see that the steamer, which was to carry me on, was already preparing for her departure. The boat was alongside, my traps were safely stowed in her, and nothing remained but to bid Alie good-bye. As soon as this was accomplished I went down the gangway, took my seat in the stern, and we pushed off. Ten minutes later I was on board the steamer Van Tromp, had paid my passage-money, secured my berth, and was waiting to see what the next item of the programme would be.
From the deck of the Dutch vessel, as she swept by us under full sail, her course set for Batavia, the Lone Star looked as pretty a craft as any man could wish to see. I noticed, however, that during the three months she had been in her own harbour her colour, and indeed her whole appearance, had been entirely changed. When first I had made her acquaintance she was white as the driven snow; now she was a peculiar shade of red. Her bows seemed bluffer than when I had seen her last, indeed from the present shape and construction of her masts and gear it would have been extremely difficult to tell her for the same vessel.
At six o'clock, and in the eye of a glorious sunset, we got up our pressure and steamed out to sea. Of that voyage there is little to tell. The Van Tromp was a clumsy old tub of an almost obsolete pattern, and by the time we reached Tanjong Priok, as the seaport of Batavia is called, I had had about enough of her.
Once there, I repacked my bag and stepped on to the wharf, resolved to take the first train to the city. Arriving there I drove direct to the hotel whose name Alie had given me and booked my room.
Batavia is a pretty place, and at the time of our visit was looking its best. So far I had seen nothing of Alie, and I did not like to make inquiries concerning her lest by so doing I might excite suspicion. To while away the time till dinner I lit a cigar, and seating myself in the long verandah that surrounded the house, read my book, keeping a watchful eye on the folk about me all the time.
Shortly before five o'clock, I noticed that the Dutch ladies in my neighbourhood ordered afternoon tea, and partook of it in the verandah. Not to be outdone, I followed their example. But just as I was about to pour myself out a cup an interruption occurred which presently assumed annoying proportions.
The table, on which my Malay boy had placed the tray, stood in the full glare of the afternoon sun, and this being hotter than I liked, I bade him move it nearer to the wall, and to facilitate matters, myself took up the tray on which my cup stood, brimming full. Just as he was putting the table down, however, two strange ladies turned the corner of the verandah and came towards us. The taller, and younger of the two, was a fine dark woman, with a wealth of beautiful brown hair rolled tightly behind her head. She was dressed in a well-fitting travelling dress, wore, what I believe is called, a sailor hat, and walked with a carriage that would have even attracted attention in the most crowded street in the world. Her companion was an older woman, and, if one might judge by appearances, nearer sixty than fifty, with a fine, aristocratic face, and a considerable quantity of grey hair heaped in little corkscrew curls all over her head.
When they came level with where I stood, I stepped back to let them pass, but in doing so came into collision with the younger lady. How it happened I cannot say, but the result was in every way disastrous; the tray slipped, and would have fallen had I not caught it in time, but the cup of tea was too quick for me, and fell to the ground, splashing the young lady's pretty grey dress beyond hope of remedy in its descent. The cup and saucer were broken into a hundred pieces. For a moment the fair sufferer stood silent, hardly, I suppose, knowing what to say; but when I commenced my apologies and wanted to run to my room for a cloth with which to wipe her dress, she found her voice, and said with a strong American accent—