About three weeks later, a bark, whose storm-beaten and weather-stained appearance showed traces of a long and tempestuous voyage, cast anchor in the port of Batavia. Among the first to land were a couple of men who, although dressed in the garb of common sailors, yet displayed the most palpable evidence that they belonged to some other sphere in life. They presented a strange contrast to one another. The taller of the two, it was easy to see by his well-shaped hands and feet, by his clear-cut features, and by his general bearing, was a gentleman by birth and education, whereas his companion had evidently sprung from the lower classes.
“Safe at last,” muttered the former, who was no other than Frederick von Waldberg. “As long as I was on board that ship, I always had a kind of feeling that we were in danger, somehow or other, of being delivered up to the French authorities. I can't help thinking that the skipper had his doubts as to the authenticity of the story which we told him.”
“At any rate, he kept his own counsel about it,” replied his companion, with a laugh; “and here we are at last beyond the reach of our friends, the ‘gardes chiourmes’ (prison warders). Just look at this! How different from La Nouvelle! (New Caledonia). The very air seems to reek with prosperity and wealth. See those houses there. How glorious it would be to have the looting of one of them!”
“Hush, you idiot!” exclaimed Frederick. “There must [Pg 111] be lots of people here who understand French, and I don't suppose that you want everybody to know who you are.”
“They will find it out soon enough, to their cost,” replied the other, under his breath, as they strolled on.
Frederick and his fellow-convict had been in the last stage of exhaustion when rescued by the Dutch bark, which was on its way from Amsterdam to Java, and during the first three days were unable to give any account of themselves. On recovering, however, they informed the skipper that they were the solitary survivors of a French vessel engaged in the Polynesian trade. They asserted that the boat had broken loose from the sinking ship before its full complement of the crew had been embarked, and that, owing to the darkness, and to the gale which prevailed, they were unable to return to the ship.
During the time which had elapsed since their break for liberty, both their hair and beards had grown, and moreover they had taken the precaution to remove from their scanty attire all traces which might have revealed the fact that it had formed part of the garb of a French convict.
They now found themselves in a strange country, without a cent in their pockets, and without any honest means in view of obtaining a livelihood. The very clothes on their backs they owed to the charity of the sailors of the bark. They applied at several of the great warehouses and stores for employment, and, meeting with no success, then addressed themselves to the occupants of several of the magnificent villas in the suburbs, begging for food and money. The Dutch, however, are not of a particularly generous nature. If they err, it is on the side of economy and excessive caution. Everywhere Frederick and his companion were met with the same response, “Apply to your consul.” As this was about the last person to whom the two ex-convicts would have dreamed of addressing themselves, there seemed to be every prospect that they would spend the night in the [Pg 112] open air, and remain both dinnerless and supperless. They were just about to turn their steps once more in the direction of the port, when suddenly a man who had been watching them for some few moments as they wandered aimlessly along, stepped across the street, and inquired in German what they were looking for, and whether he could be of any assistance to them. Frederick at once replied in the same language that they were destitute and starving, and that they were exceedingly anxious to discover some means of earning a decent living.
“Have you tried any of our merchants and storekeepers?” asked the stranger.
“Yes,” replied Frederick; “but it is a hopeless task. It appears, from what they say, that they all have more employees than they know what to do with.”
“How would you like if I were to obtain for you this very night the sum of fifty guilders apiece, and an agreeable means of livelihood for several years to come?”
Frederick's face brightened visibly as he replied:
“Of course we should be delighted, and exceedingly grateful to you. Do you mean it seriously? It would be cruel to joke on such a subject with men in our position.”
“I can assure you,” rejoined the stranger, “that I am thoroughly serious about the matter. What I propose to you is that you should enlist in the Dutch Army here. You know that the colonial troops receive a high rate of pay. The promotion is rapid, the duties are light; and although certificates of good conduct in the past are required, yet your face inspires me with such confidence, and your destitute appearance with such sympathy, that I am prepared to give the authorities the requisite guarantees in your behalf.”
Frederick quickly communicated the friendly offer to his companion, and after a few minutes' consultation, they decided on accepting it, with many thanks. It was indeed a [Pg 113] perfect godsend for them, and it is impossible to say what would otherwise have been their fate.
Shortly before nightfall, and after providing the two men with a good square meal, the benevolent stranger accompanied them to the railway station, and took the train with them to “Meester Cornelis,” the great central depot and headquarters of the Dutch Army in the East. On arriving there, an hour later, he conducted them to the bureau of the chief recruiting officer. After undergoing examination by a regimental surgeon, who pronounced them physically fit for active service, they were duly enrolled as soldiers of a regiment of fusileers. Their friend, thereupon, having obtained a voucher from the recruiting officer, proceeded to the paymaster's bureau, where a sum of money was counted out to him on presentation of the document. Of this amount he handed fifty guilders to each of the two men, and then bade them adieu, and left them in charge of the sergeant who had piloted them through the barracks.
It is probable that neither Frederick nor his companion would have been so effusive in their protestations of gratitude toward the stranger, had they been aware of the fact at the time that he had appropriated to himself the major portion of the bounty of three hundred guilders which becomes the property of every European recruit who takes service in the Dutch Colonial Army.
The latter, which numbers some 27,000 men, is composed of men of almost every nationality. Germans and Swiss form the major portion of the foreign element, which comprises, however, many Russians, Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Americans. At least half of all these are men who have previously occupied a more elevated rank in life. Ruined clubmen, bankrupt merchants and traders, fugitive cashiers and dishonest clerks, and a large sprinkling of deserters from the various European armies, figure largely among the contingent. Among the corporals and simple [Pg 114] privates are to be found men who have held even colonels' commissions in the Prussian and Austrian Armies, while once prominent but now ruined noblemen, such as the two Counts E——, of Berlin, and Prince R——, of Vienna, are to be seen figuring as mess-sergeants, and even as orderlies of half-educated and coarse Dutch infantry officers. Indeed, there is scarcely a foreigner in the Dutch Colonial Army who has not some sad or dark history attached to his name. Few of them ever return to their native land, for the climate of Java is deadly. It has been calculated that, of all the men who enlist, not more than thirty-five per cent. live through the whole period of their service. Of the 27,000 men who constitute the army, an average of at least 6,000 men are permanently on the sick list and hors de combat.
The name under which Frederick had been enrolled was Frederick Gavard, of Alsace, while his companion had described himself as Charles Renier, of Paris.
During the next three years Frederick and his fellow fugitive endured all the hardships of a soldier's life. Frederick had now learned how to control his former ungovernable temper, and had acquired the conviction that there is much more to be obtained by concealing one's real sentiments and by biding one's time than by any headstrong act of violence. Although he kept his hands free from crime during this period, yet it must not for one moment be gathered therefrom that his moral character had undergone any improvement. On the contrary, he was a far more dangerous character now than he had ever been before. It was but the absence of a suitable opportunity for making a profitable coup that prevented him from adding to his list of crimes.
By dint of the most careful observance of the regulations, by his remarkable intelligence, and by the evidences which he displayed of having undergone a most careful military [Pg 115] training, he had succeeded in working his way up to the rank of sergeant. He was regarded with favor by his superiors and respected by his inferiors. Curiously enough he had kept himself free from any of those entanglements with native women which constitute the bane and shadow of a soldier's life in the East. At any rate, if he was engaged in intrigues of that kind they were kept secret from everybody.
The chief trial and annoyance to which he was subjected was the difficulty which he experienced in getting rid of Charles Renier, the companion of his flight from New Caledonia. The man was constantly getting into trouble and appealing to him for assistance and for money. Frederick dared not refuse him, as he was afraid that he would disclose his past history. Hardly a month elapsed without Charles being sentenced for some scrape or other to receive “twentig Rietslagen” (twenty blows from the terrible Malacca cane of the corporal), and he was on the high-road to terminate his military career by the “strop,” as the gallows is called out there. At length, catching sight one day of a corporal in the act of leaving the rooms inhabited by the dusky Mme. Renier for the time being, he threw himself upon him and thrashed him to within an inch of his life, showing thereby the superiority of the French “Savatte” over the Dutch “Boxie!” Indeed, he left the unfortunate man in a shocking condition, his jaw broken, and one of his ears partly torn from his head. Then, bursting into the woman's room, he seized the faithless damsel by the throat and kicked and pounded her into unconsciousness. After these exploits, well knowing that if caught he would probably be court-martialed and hanged, he deemed it prudent to show a pair of clean heels, and on the following morning his name was posted up as that of a deserter, and a reward was offered for his capture.
It may incidentally be stated that there are no less than an [Pg 116] average of three hundred to four hundred desertions every year in the Dutch East Indies.
A few weeks later Frederick, who had meanwhile been promoted to the rank of pay sergeant, was walking quietly along one evening after dark in the outskirts of Padang, when su............