While, however, he is taking his whiff, I must say a few words about this most deleterious narcotic, which, by the way, has made so much noise, and done so much mischief, in the world. First, let me premise that the Indian islanders invariably smoke instead of chew opium, like the inhabitants of continental Asia. The method of preparing it for use is as follows: The raw opium is first boiled or seethed in a copper vessel; then strained through a cloth, to free it from impurities; and then a second time boiled. The leaf of the tambaku, shredded fine, is mixed with it, in a quantity sufficient to absorb the whole; and it is afterwards made up into pills, about the size of peas, for smoking. One of these being put into the small tube that projects from the side of the opium-pipe, that tube is applied to a lamp, and the pill, being lighted, is consumed at one whiff or inflation of the lungs, attended with a whistling noise. The smoke is never emitted by the mouth, but usually receives vent through the nostrils, and sometimes, by adepts, through the passage of the ears and eyes. This preparation of the opium is called maadat, and is often adulterated in the process by mixing jaggri, or pine sugar, with it, as is the raw opium by incorporating with it the fruit of the pisang, or plantain.
Having held the pipe sufficiently long to prevent suspicion, Prabu laid it aside, saying:
“My young masters may now, without fear of being overheard, say for what reason they have run away from the house of Mynheer, and ‘my lady,’ his wife.”
Martin replied by relating the whole of our story, not reserving a single item—no, not even his opinion that Ebberfeld was the real cause of our cousin’s death. To which Prabu, having listened attentively, said:
“Allah is great! and if He has put it into the hearts of my young masters to run from their home, like frightened deer from the hunters, it is not for Prabu to send them back to Mynheer; for, if the words they utter about him be good, he must be a bad man, and it would be to send them into danger; for although we know that the poison of a centipede is in its head, the poison of a scorpion in its tail, the poison of the snake in its tooth, the venom of a bad man is fixed to no one spot, but dispersed over his whole body, and so is more to be feared than either. But my young masters must eat and drink and sleep; and how can they do these without a home?”
“We would seek Mynheer Vandervelden, and in the name of our uncle, who was good to him, beg that he will employ us in one of his ships, or even in his counting-house,” said I.
“To go to sea in one of his ships would be good, to remain in the counting-house bad, for you would still be in danger,” said Prabu.
“No, I do not now wish to go to Mynheer Vandervelden at all,” said Martin; adding—“I have been told that our uncle was good also to you, Prabu?”
“He was more: he was my friend and benefactor, and to him or his, Prabu hopes some day to repay the benefits which then, as now, lay heavily upon his head. But Prabu is but a poor hunter—a gatherer of birds’-nests; and what can he do to benefit the nephew of his benefactor? Alas! nothing.”
“Yes, much!” replied Martin. “You are a nest-hunter. I heard you speak of a prahu to the man Katu. Take us with you; teach us to be nest-hunters also; and so we may get our bread until we are of sufficient age to come forward and claim our own money.”