On the Equator

by Harry De Windt

We accepted an invitation from the Dutch Consul to dinner the evening before our departure for Batavia, as we were anxious to obtain as much information as possible about Java; and the dinner being given in honour of the officers of a Dutch man-of-war then lying in the roads, we thought this a first-rate opportunity, but were doomed to disappointment. On our arrival "schnapps" before the feast had evidently been too much for them, and ere dinner was over they were all—to use a mild expression—overcome.

We left them at midnight to go on board our steamer, embracing each other and singing "Die Wacht am Rhein" at the top of their voice—a performance hardly appreciated, I should imagine, by the occupants of the adjoining bungalows.

On arrival at the wharf, which our gharry driver had no little difficulty in finding in the darkness, we were much disappointed to find that the Messagéries vessel had broken down, and that a small Dutch steamer, belonging to the Nederland Indische Stoomship Co., was to be her substitute for that voyage, and still more disgusted were we when shown into a stuffy little cabin containing three bunks, in one of which a fat Dutchman had already retired to rest, the other two being L.'s and my resting-place. We made the best of a bad job, however, and turned in, but not for long; certain animals, which shall be nameless, had already taken up their quarters in the berths, and resented our intrusion with such good effect that they drove us out of the little cabin and on deck, where, the weather being fine, we slept on the skylight the three remaining nights we stayed on board.

The days went by very wearily, for there was literally nothing to do on board; the passengers were all Dutch, speaking no English, and very little French; the cuisine on board was composed principally of grease, and what smelt like train-oil, add to this that the highest rate of speed ever attained by the Minister Frausen von der Putte was seven knots an hour, and I think the reader will agree with me that our journey across was anything but a pleasant one. We were not sorry, therefore, when at daybreak on the 31st of July the long low coast of Java came in sight, and shortly afterwards the lighthouse standing at the entrance of the canal leading up to the old town of Batavia. We anchored in the bay at nine o'clock, and awaited the arrival of the little tug which was to convey us to the custom-house, and which we could now see issuing from the mouth of the canal.

It may not be generally known that the Dutch possess nearly the whole of the Eastern Archipelago, with the exception of north and south-western Borneo. Java is, however, their most important colony, and Batavia they have christened the "Paris of the East," though I must acknowledge I have heard none but Dutchmen call it so.

The tug was alongside by ten o'clock, and we were soon aboard and entering the double sea wall which forms the canal. We passed on our right the large lighthouse which has proved so fatal a residence to Europeans, no less than five died within six months of its completion, and it has been found necessary to place Javanese in charge ever since, so unhealthy is the situation. Arrived at the custom-house we passed our boxes with some little trouble, and selecting a "kahar," or species of carriage like a victoria, drawn by two ponies, we drove off to the Pension Nederlanden, to which hotel we had been recommended by our naval friends at Singapore.

The lower part of the town, or, as it is called, Old Batavia, consists entirely of warehouses, go-downs, and native houses. No Europeans can live here, so unhealthy is it, nor can even one night be passed in this quarter with impunity. The upper town—which is named Weltereoden, "well content"—consists of Government House and the houses of all the officials and merchants in Batavia. Most of these houses are situated around the "Kœnig's Plein," a large grass plain some 1,000 yards in circumference, which in the time of the English occupation was used as a racecourse. On one side of this stands the governor's palace, a large stone building of modern architecture, while on the other side of the plain is a statue of the Netherland lion. The inscription on this amused me not a little, as it commemorates the victory of the Belgians over the French at Waterloo, the British troops not being mentioned.

There are two ways of reaching Weltereoden from Old Batavia, by railway and tramcar. Where are there not tramcars now? Even the stately streets of Stamboul are not free from them. The street cab of Batavia is a "dos-à-dos" literally so called, as the passenger sits with his back to the driver's, thus forming a mutual support.

Batavia is intersected by canals, the largest or main canal running alongside the road leading from the lower town to Weltereoden. As we drove along we saw hundreds of natives taking their morning dip in the dirty stream; though, as a matter of fact, they have no fixed time for their ablutions, but bathe at all hours of the day and night.

We reached the "Nederlanden" after half an hour's drive. As all European houses in Java are built on the same principle, a description of our hotel may serve for all. The Nederlanden was built entirely on the ground floor, and having long wings which projected back for some 60 or 70 yards. In these wings are the bed-rooms of guests, while the centre building contains the drawing-room, dining-room, and sleeping apartments of the host and hostess. Under the verandah of the front portico stands a large round marble table, surrounded by about a dozen rocking-chairs. Here the men of the house congregate before dinner and breakfast for "Peyt," a villainous compound which is drunk with gin, and is supposed to stimulate the appetite.