“Why, Prabu,” said Martin, when we were alone in the pandapa, “by what magic words did you manage so easily to tame that savage old gentleman?”
“By inspiring him with a hope, or probability, that the rule of the Dutch in the Archipelago, or at least in Java and its dependencies, was approaching its end.”
“More conspiring! By Jingo, it is too bad! We must look after our heads, Claud.”
“But what especial cause has this chief for hating the Hollanders?” I asked.
“One that will never be forgotten or forgiven, while any of his race remain to avenge it. But listen: His father, who was chief or prince—for he held the latter title—of this same district, having offended his suzerain the Rajah, had to fly for his life; and this he did, with his princess and attendants, to a Dutch frigate then cruising in the straits. Now, the captain—knowing the policy of his Government was ever to foment the rebellion of the principal vassals against their princes—received them on board with courtesy. Unfortunately, however, forgetting the fastidiousness of Orientals in all matters connected with their women, he welcomed the princess, after the fashion of his own countrymen, by kissing her neck. Alarmed at such—to her—strange proceeding, the lady screamed aloud; whereupon her husband, believing that an insult had been intentionally offered to his wife, rushed upon the commander and stabbed him to the heart, while, at the same time, his followers commenced ‘a muck’ among the crew. The Europeans, however, after a hard fight, put the prince and his people to death, and sent the head of the former to the rajah from whose anger he had fled.”
“Well,” said Martin, “the Dutch may have committed a great number of unpardonable sins in Java; but in that case they were decidedly in the right, and the savage only met with his deserts.”
“God is great!—who knows?” returned Prabu; for he would upon no occasion admit the Dutch to be in the right. “What is written is written,” he added. “It will have a good ending, for it has raised an unquenchable thirst for vengeance in the hearts of a powerful tribe.”
But, I have said, we were invited to a banquet. Well, it consisted of fish, fruits, sweetmeats, and a spirit distilled from rice, of which, toward the latter part, the chiefs partook plentifully—a rare occurrence with the generally abstemious islanders; but, then, our host had become greatly excited, as we shall hereafter see, at the cause of Prabu’s visit. The most entertaining portion, however, to Martin and I was the performances of the dancing-girls. The remainder of the viands having been removed, there entered the large hall some twelve very pretty but oddly-attired girls; each wore a plumed head-dress, glittering with spangles and gold—pendants of the same metal, which reached to the shoulders—jeweled necklaces—a jacket richly embroidered with the precious metal, beneath which was a waistcoat of the same material—loose trousers of cloth of gold, well bespangled, fastened at the waist by a broad golden girdle, and at the knees by a cord, from which hung golden bells, that tinkled at every movement. Their arms and legs were uncovered, with the exception of adornments of gold, such as bracelets, anklets, and leglets. Then each girl was armed with a richly-mounted sword, and carried a fan with bells attached.
As they entered the hall, they sang the glories of their master, keeping time upon a small drum or tom-tom; but approaching his seat, they fell upon their knees, and saluted him by joining their hands and lifting up their heads; then they began to dance, with one knee upon the ground, gracefully bending their arms and bodies. After this, they danced upright, keeping time with their drums; then they would place their hands upon their swords, or pretend to be taking aim with a bow; and they went through many other pretty movements, which so interested us that we regretted when the entertainment was concluded.
“In their love of dancing,” writes Crawford, “the Indian islanders outvie the French. It is a passion with them, and not only adopted as an amusement, but mingled with the more serious affairs of life; but their dancing is not like that of the savages of America, nor that practiced in Western India. Like the latter, they have professed dancing-women, who exhibit for hire, but, unlike them, they occasionally dance themselves; and in public processions, and even more serious occasions, dancing forms a portion of the solemnities.