“As long as the Poenan remains free of fever, it will not. All danger then will be passed, for the only peculiarity of the antoeëns is that they can never themselves undo the mischief which they cause.”
“My worthy Helvetian!” Johannes said, addressing Wienersdorf, at the same time handing him a small paper parcel, “here are ten more grains of quinine, let your brother-in-law swallow them by all means, for his recovery is a serious consideration to me now.”
The second dose however was not necessary. After having peacefully slept till an advanced hour of the day, the Poenan had awaked, and feeling perfectly well had taken his mat and spread it under the shade of a large tree outside the house.
He was now lying there drinking in large draughts of the fresh air. When he saw Johannes and Wienersdorf approach he arose and cordially shook hands with both; but his manner towards the former showed that he felt a certain reverential fear for one who at his own will could create and cure disease.
Harimaoung Boekit fortunately remained free from fever, whereby Johannes’ prestige became increased in no small degree. There was nothing now to interfere with the prosecution of their journey. The deserters therefore pressed for a speedy departure. The Europeans were becoming desperate, when fortunately something unexpected occurred to put an end to their embarrassment.
A djoekoeng from the deputies arrived one morning with the message that although the Dutch Government had accepted the submission of kotta Djangkan, the Commander himself would come with a steamship to fetch the new chief and conduct him to [[257]]Bandjermasin, there to take the oath of allegiance. This steamer might be hourly expected. Harimaoung knew that if the Commander should arrive before his departure he might prevent the emigration of the tribe and therefore their best course would be to depart forthwith. Everything was made ready with despatch and all hands were busy in the final preparations.
The last night passed at kotta Djangkan was of marvellous activity, and when day at last broke forth all was ready for departure. Only the guns which for safety had been left in the batteries over night had to be embarked. The lusty arms of our Europeans soon settled this difficulty, and a leave-taking commenced which promised to be interminable, until Johannes, pointing his finger towards the south, suddenly cried out:
“Banama Asep! Banama Asep!!” a fire ship, a fire ship.
A cloud of smoke was indeed seen above the edge of the forest towards the south. All instantly took their places in the boats and in less time than it takes to narrate, the ten rangkans, containing one hundred and sixty five persons, the grand total of the emigration, had left the shore with all their goods and chattels. The oars clave the waters forcibly and the light vessels sped onwards. A hurrah was given by the travellers and responded to by those their late companions, and the kotta which had so hospitably received our adventurers was left behind.
The country gradually became wilder, the banks loftier, sometimes hanging over as if threatening death and destruction.