A royal smuggler

by William Dalton

For the first mile of our descent, we met not a living soul; indeed, had there been any person on the road, it was so dark that we could not have seen him. As day began to break, we met a native porter, who was making his way from the lower to the upper town, beneath a load that would have crushed an ordinary American horse. These fellows, by the way, are a marvel to all new-comers in the island, for it is not unusual to see them, thus heavily laden, travel thirty miles a day for several days successively; true, their pace is not more than three miles an hour, at the quickest; but then, if slow, they are sure. Well, from this man we heard good news—namely, that that day was a kind of festival or holiday among the natives of the lower town; good, because, from the great number of people that would be in the streets, we should the better escape the attention of any kind friend who might (and of course we believed that anybody would know, as well as ourselves, that we were runaways) feel it his duty to send Mynheer information as to our whereabouts.

The next incident we met with was curious enough. We had several times fancied we heard footsteps, as if of some person running behind us; just after, however, we had passed the porter, the sky grew whiter, and, turning round, we saw a native running after us.

“Mynheer has discovered our absence; that is one of his slaves,” said I. “Let us run for it;” and away we ran down the hill, till, fairly out of breath, we stopped to rest.

“Slave or no slave, I sha’n’t run any more, for, after all, we are two to one,” said Martin.

A minute afterwards the person passed us, and slackened his pace as he came near an old man, who seemed to be toiling his way up the hill, almost overcome by some load which he carried in a basket. Then, when the two met, without stopping an instant, the younger caught the basket out of the old fellow’s hands, and ran off with it. Seeing the latter sink down upon the roadside, Martin cried out, “Let us after that thief—he has taken advantage of the old man’s weakness and fatigue to overcome him;” and we began to pursue the robber; but as we passed the victim, as we supposed, he cried—

“Stay, Sahib, that man is no thief; he is pursuing a holy duty. If you stop him, the gods will shower their vengeance upon him and all of us.”

“This is queer,” said Martin, in surprise, and he asked the old man for an explanation. All, however, that we could make out was that the basket contained the skull of a buffalo, which, for some reason known only to themselves, the native priests had ordered to be conducted from one part of the island to another, insisting that it should never be permitted to rest, neither by night nor by day; thus, it had been kept in constant progressive motion, one person taking it from another, until it had been carried several hundred miles, each carrier being given to understand, that he who should let it rest but for an instant would call down upon his head the most dreadful vengeance of the gods.

Quitting the old gentleman, we proceeded on our way, heartily laughing at the superstitious feelings that had induced so many persons to give themselves so much trouble about nothing. The old man’s story of the skull, however, reminded me of another I had heard, illustrative of the credulity of the poor natives of Java.

Some years before, it was unexpectedly discovered that in a remote but populous part of the island of Java a road was constructed, leading to the top of the mountain Sumbeng, one of the highest in the island. An inquiry being set on foot, it was discovered that the delusion which gave rise to the work had its origin in the province of Banyumas, in the territories of the Susunan; that the infection spread to the territory of the Sultan, from whence it extended to that of the European Power. On examination, a road was found constructed, seventy feet broad, and from fifty to sixty miles in extent, wonderfully smooth and well made. One point which appears to have been considered necessary was, that the road should not cross rivers, the consequence of which was that it winded in a thousand ways, that the principle might not be infringed. Another point as peremptorily insisted upon was, that the straight course of the road should not be interrupted by any regard to private rights; and, in consequence, trees and houses were overturned to make way for it.

The population of whole districts, occasionally to the amount of five and six thousand laborers, were employed on the road; and among a people disinclined to active exertion, the laborious work was nearly completed in two months—such was the effect of the temporary enthusiasm with which they were inspired. It appeared in the sequel, that a bare report had set the whole work in motion. An old woman had dreamt, or pretended to have dreamt, that a divine personage was about to descend from heaven on the mountain Sumbeng. Piety suggested the propriety of constructing a road to facilitate his descent; and divine vengeance, it was rumored, would pursue the sacrilegious person who refused to join in the meritorious labor.