20

The trip to Kartasura, the ancient Mataram capital, proved both a failure and a success. The old palace had been a graveyard for many years, and it was here that Takouhi hoped to find her mother’s tomb. They entered the massive, moss-encrusted brick walls and searched amongst the fragrant frangipani trees.

But their attempts to find the burial place proved fruitless. The tombs were old; many headstones had collapsed, and Takouhi admitted her written Javanese was poor. Eventually they gave up, sat on the mats the maids had spread and simply enjoyed the quiet peace of this shady and antique place, knowing her mother was here. Takouhi left a great garland of jasmine on one of the trees, lit incense among the tombs and watched the birds flitting from place to place. The graveyard was, ironically, filled with life: lizards, crickets, insects of all kinds and thick-striped wild cats made their home here too.

When they returned to the hotel, Charlotte was annoyed to see that the Americans were occupying the front verandah and were in heated conversation with Nathanial. Their guards, too, had seen Palmer and took up a position under the banyan tree. Takouhi wanted some tea, and Charlotte, against her will, joined her at a distant table. Not so distant, however, that they could not hear the conversation.

“For make no mistake, gentlemen,” Nathanial was saying, “all the Javanese peasantry are Dutch subjects, the Dutch king is their king, the descendants of their ancient sovereigns are Dutch officials, promoted or demoted by the Governor-General in the name of the king. They live under laws made in Holland and pay taxes which benefit only the treasury and people of Holland.”

Palmer blew out smoke from a cigar and eyed the men with the krisses who were watching him. “Naturally,” he said. “If you Europeans must have your blasted colonies, it makes sense that they must exist for the benefit of the mother country.”

This utterance was delivered in a low drawl, laconically, as if Nathanial were an idiot.

“No, sir, I disagree. You, an American, should know it better than I. It does not make sense to turn one of the richest and most productive countries in the world into a land of famine. I have seen the cadavers who walk the tracks of the provinces where forced labour and forced growth of export crops has reduced villagers to starvation, epidemics rife, illness and death everywhere. They try to flee this so-called Cultivation System, which is no system at all but merely slavery.”

Roberts had looked on with surprise at Palmer’s words. Violent objection to the idea that a colony existed only for the mother country was what had led to their own revolutionary war. Roberts was from the free state of Massachusetts. Slavery was a Southern disgrace and the subject of constant and emotional upheaval at home. He felt uneasy at such notions.

“Slavery, Mr Fox. Surely you go too far. The Javanese are not slaves.”

“Why, sir, what do you call it when a people have no say in their own lives? The Dutch force the planting, fix the prices, tax the peasant. The Regent then taxes the rice again, and the omnivorous Chinese charge the peasant for transporting and selling goods and practise hideous usury, lending money they know can never be repaid, forcing the Javanese peasant into a yoke of unending debt. On top of this, the villager must give his corvée labour for free, making the roads and canals, walking hours from his village each day to work in indigo farms and sugar factories with no remuneration. Even the fruits of the forest, free to him since time immemorial, are forbidden. It is abominable. Only the Dutch demand this. Before they came, the regents demanded their share of the rice crop, the labours of their peasantry and a crawling obedience. The Dutch demand their whole lives—and for whom? For the civilians of Holland! If this hideous burden is not slavery, sir, then I do not know what is.”

Nathanial drew breath, agitated.

“All this unending and unendurable labour means that the rice fields are neglected. There is famine in Java, sir, and it is a disgrace,” he said more calmly.

Roberts frowned. Palmer, blowing smoke rings, looked as if he could not care less.

Mr Rauschenberger, who had until then remained discreetly silent, annoyed by Palmer’s extraordinary and ungentlemanly behaviour and apparent ignorance, now spoke up.

“It appears that Great Britain made a great mistake in the Treaty of 1824 by ceding all these islands to the Dutch in return for obtaining Malacca, which had become useless to them in any case. Raffles did his best, but he was ignored. One can only wonder at the great lack of knowledge respecting the resources and geography of these islands. Not only was it prejudicial to the interests of Great Britain but entailed upon Borneo, Celebes, Banka and all the other islands, the extreme and benighted policy of Holland. Why, Banka is supposed to contain the richest tin mines in the world! The Dutch policy, as most men who have travelled here must agree, has had no beneficial effect. They have been in possession of these islands for nearly two hundred years, yet the natives are not to be found advanced in education, arts or sciences, nor are their comforts and conveniences of life in any degree improved by Dutch influence, though thousands of Europeans have grown rich upon their labours.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” Nathanial said, grateful for a man of sense and experience. “Before the Dutch, the people of Java had for a millennium carried on a vast and lucrative commerce trading in the rich produce of these islands. Java was the natural emporium of insular Asia. Vessels from the Red Sea to Japan visited its ports. It is humiliating to the civilisation of Europe to see how completely the establishment of its influence in Java broke up this free and thriving commerce. The restrictions of the Dutch destroyed the native trade, turning former traders into pirates, to add to the vast number already marauding the seas. Having destroyed the sailors, they are now well on the way to destroying the peasant as well.”

Roberts said nothing. Palmer thought Nathanial an ass and smirked and cast a glance in Charlotte’s direction. Nathanial saw it and rose. He had had more than enough of Palmer’s attitude and could feel his anger rising. He saluted Roberts cordially and bowed to Rauschenberger; then he joined Charlotte and Takouhi. In his pocket was a letter he had been handed for her, which Charlotte opened quickly.

“News”, she said. “Tigran has heard from Billy Napier that George is returning. The house is awaiting him; it is definite. He is expected in November. Oh, Takouhi, what good news!”

Takouhi smiled, and Charlotte could tell she was pleased. This visit seemed to have been good for her, helped her in some small way to find peace of mind about her mother.

“Tigran has written to Billy not to renew the lease on Tir Uaidhne and given the tenant notice to quit.”

Tigran’s letter contained, as well, his passionate expressions of love, missing her, wanting her to come home. She, too, had had enough. Palmer had soured everything. She wanted to return to the safety and love of Tigran’s care. It was time to go back to Batavia and plan the voyage to Singapore.