“Why, uncivil old person, we were going to help you to the pig!” replied Martin; then, seeing the chief stood looking at the thicket, he added: “It is the dog and the manger over again; the old fellow will neither kill the pig himself, nor let us.”
“Son of a dog!” cried the chief, “my spear is broken, and Datoo dares not defile Blaber with the blood of a hog.”
Now this Blaber, about the defilement of which he was so sensitive, was his creese, and Martin, believing it was only an excuse for want of pluck, said, as he offered him his own weapon,—
“Well, I am not so particular; take this, my friend.”
“Allah reward you!” cried the chief, snatching the creese, and, with all the agility of a hunter some half a century younger, he leaped into the thicket. The next minute, there was a grunt, a scream; blood spurted from the bush, and the chief came forth flourishing the red steel in his hand, and, now in a much better temper, went up to Prabu, saying,—
“Datoo is a dog, and a son of a dog, for he did not before recognize his friend.” Then, by way of testifying his joy at the meeting, he fell upon his neck, and, after the manner of his race, smelt him—a mode of salutation in Java equivalent to the touch by the lips of the inhabitants of continental Europe.
“We will trespass upon thy hospitality one night only, good Datoo, for to-morrow, at daybreak, we go to the caves.”
“My house, my village, and all therein are my brother Prabu’s,” was the reply; and then, turning to Martin, he thanked him for saving his creese from defilement.
The Javanese almost idolize this, their favorite weapon, like the knights-errant of old, giving them pet names, and occasionally addressing them as if they were endowed with understanding—yet why, except from custom, is incomprehensible: it is not for its venerable antiquity, for its use was not introduced until nearly the beginning of the fifteenth century. It it not so useful as the sword, for it is short, and most generally crooked. With justice it has been described as more fit for assassination than war. The creese doubtlessly had its origin in a most unromantic cause, the scarcity and dearness of iron; for in those countries where the metal is unknown, and without intercourse with foreigners, it must necessarily be far more valuable than gold itself—a fact sufficiently proved by the histories of Mexico and Peru, wherein, although gold and silver were as common as iron in other countries, the more vulgar metal was never seen until the arrival of the Spaniards. Indeed, had these two brave peoples known its use, it is more than questionable that they would have become, if at all, so easily the prey of their invaders. Such was the origin of that apology for the sword—the creese. Why it is continued in use after the cause has ceased, is easily comprehended by those who are aware of the obstinate adherence of barbarians to ancient habit and custom, particularly in an affair in which national pride and vanity are engaged.
Arriving at the chief’s house, the largest and best-built in the village, the old gentleman gave us a formal welcome, and bade us be seated—that is, squat ourselves upon the bamboo flooring, and the slave would bring us refreshments; but Prabu, having looked around, as if disappointed at not seeing some other persons present, asked, “How is it that my worthy Datoo’s sons are absent when the Pangeran requires their aid?”