October 16th.—To-day we are upon the equator and enter the south hemisphere. We cross the great meridian—the 180th degree of longitude, and are close to the centre of the globe. We drop out a day of our lives; yesterday it was October 15th (Sunday), to-day it is October 17th (Tuesday). We did not celebrate the passage of the line, and had no foolish ceremonies, no fantastics, no ducking at sea, which consisted in sprinkling with salt-water the neophyte who crossed the equator for the first time. All that sort of thing has gone out. One of the passengers exclaimed for fun that he saw the equator and a naive lady-passenger took up her opera-glasses and began to stare round about, which made everybody laugh. We remained long on deck, enjoying the beautiful tropical night. The sky was sown with stars. Good-by the “Old Bear,” and welcome the “Southern Cross.” It is not particularly large nor strikingly bright, but it does, after a fashion, suggest a cross not carefully shaped, consisting of four large stars and a little one. We saw also the black patch of the sky which the sailors call the “soot-bag.” We had music on deck, where the piano was carried out. I played duets together with Mr. Shaniavski, and the commissaire scraped on the mandoline. I have remarked that it is always the commissaires who constitute the musical element on French steamers.
CHAPTER LXXXII
JAVA—BATAVIA
October 16th.—We see an island on our right. It is Java, the Garden of the East, one of the most splendid spots in the world, to which nature has been prodigal with beauties and wonders. In the distance we perceive the port of Batavia, the capital of Netherland India, with Dutch flags flying. It was a strange land to come to. I seemed to be in a dream all the time, and felt as if transported into another planet. It was like being in a theatre where all the scenery was real and the curtain never came down.
Our Consul—Mr. Bakounine—was on the quay. It was nice meeting someone from the part of the world I was born in. The warm and damp climate of Java had not suited our Consul; he looked very thin and white. Mr. Bakounine was extremely kind and gave all his time to us.
On the quay exemplary order reigned. The natives are treated by the Dutch as pariahs, and ruled with a hand of iron. They are not allowed to speak Dutch, and as we were not acquainted with the native language, we had the universal language, that of the signs, left to us. The Dutch also evince great contempt for the Chinese, and treat them as if they were dirt. Coolies are not permitted to ride in tramways with white-faced Europeans; only high-caste Parsees may ride with sahibs in second-class compartments.
Batavia is the reunion of three separate towns: Weltewredeu, the new town, buried in luxuriant vegetation, with low-built white houses, surrounded by verandas, groves of palm and cocoa-nut, gives one the impression of a series of villas built in a large park; the Pettah, (old town) is an agglomeration of bamboo-huts forming narrow streets, inhabited by the natives, and separated from the European quarter by a cricket-ground; the so-called Chinese Town is inhabited only by Chinamen.
We took the train, which brought us in twenty minutes to Batavia. Whilst we crossed a beautiful cocoa and palm-wood, Mr. Bakounine said that he would have exchanged willingly one single birch-tree of far-away Russia for all the palms in the world. How I understand him! I also would have gladly exchanged all this luxurious tropical vegetation and blue sky for the grey skies of dear old Petersburg.