“The words of the miserable To-ki, whom the gods have deserted, will be few, oh, dread lord and chief,” he replied, in a whining tone. “It is true, but it is also true that the wretched To-ki entered this city, poor,—starving; and in an evil hour fell in with this dog of a Javanese, who offered thy slave, oh, my lord, a sum in silver, to rid him of a rat of an enemy; and it is also true that the miserable To-ki could not resist the temptation.”
Then the Javanese, being asked what he had to say, replied, “Am I not known, my lord, as a peaceful trader, and of good repute? is it then possible, under heaven, that thy slave could have been guilty of so great a crime? It is not so, oh, my lord, for upon the features of this man thy slave never set eyes, until this day. Surely,” he added, quite innocently, “this dog of a Chinese, son of a burnt mother that he is, entered the city as a robber and a slayer of men—but, having been detected in the crime, places it at the door of the first innocent man.”
The chief, having listened very attentively to these different statements, gave his decision that they were both guilty—
The Chinese, of having slain the man; and the Javanese, of instigating the crime. To-ki being a poor man, who could not pay his way out of the consequences of his crime, be sentenced to lose his nose and ears; while the Javanese was ordered at once to set aside a sum of money to keep the aged mother for the rest of her days, and to lose his two ears: a sentence which the man took quite coolly—but then he was rich—a fact that materially modifies sentences in Java. “It is a common custom,” says an old traveler, “to bargain with the executioner for mitigating the punishment: there is never a day but the chief orders a nose, eye, ear, hand, or foot to be cut off from somebody or other; and, upon these occasions, the executioner gets money for doing his business handsomely, and with little pain; for, if the criminal does not come up to his price, and pay him in ready money upon the spot, he will cut the nose, for instance, so deep that the brain may be seen through the wound, or mangle a foot or a leg with two or three knives—but, strange to say, in all these cruel mutilations, scarce any one dies, though some of the sufferers are above sixty years of age; and the only remedy they use is, to put the wounded part immediately into water; and, after it has bled a little, wash it, and bind it up with linen cloths.”
Not so quietly did our friend To-ki take his sentence; on the contrary, he set up a yelling that almost shook the hall of audience. Suddenly, however, his eyes lighting upon Prabu and me, he burst into an hysterical laugh, and, falling at the feet of the chief, he exclaimed,—
“Thy slave, oh, great chief, claims the remission of his sentence!”
“What means the dog, is he possessed?” cried the chief, kicking the kneeling man.
“Claims it,” continued To-ki, “as his reward for giving into the great chief’s hands rogues, traitors, for whose heads the Dutch chief at Batavia offers a thousand dollars each. Let the great man cast his lightning glance upon those dogs,” he added, pointing to us.
Unfortunately, the meaning of these words was but too intelligible to Martin and me, and we placed our hands upon our cresses.
“Resistance is useless, sahibs, submit,” whispered Prabu.