Part 25 (2/2)

We got the last state-room on a steamer to Java, and to our great surprise we found the s.h.i.+p to be the nicest we had traveled on, and the cooking to rival that of the great restaurants of Paris.

Cholera was rampant in certain parts of Java, but that didn't stop the sightseers. Nothing less than an earthquake or a lost letter of credit could have stopped them.

Our adventures in Java were a repet.i.tion of ”crowds.” The Hotel des Indes in Batavia was crowded and we got the last room. The railways were crowded, but not so much as the ones in India, and the carriages are most comfortable.

For a week we did volcanoes and gorgeous scenery, and realized what a delightful place Java is. It is even nicer than j.a.pan, and the hotels are the best in the East.

My chief purpose in going to Java was to get a Javanese waterwheel. They had one at the world's fair in Chicago, and I have remembered it ever since as one of the most musical things I have ever heard. A friend of mine wanted me to get him one and I volunteered to do so. I supposed that we would hear waterwheels just as soon as we got off the s.h.i.+p. But I was evidently mistaken.

n.o.body in Java, so far as I could discover, had ever seen or heard of a Javanese waterwheel. I inquired of dozens of people--people who had lived there all their lives--but they looked blank when I spoke of waterwheels. I drew pictures of it, but that didn't enlighten them.

Finally in despair, after a week of vain searching, I drew the plans for a waterwheel and had it made. And I am taking it home with me, hoping that it may make music. Next year, owing to the demand I created for waterwheels, I suppose the Javanese will start making them for the tourist trade.

[Drawing: _Java in a State of High Cultivation_]

Just as Russia is the land of ”nitchevo,” Spain the land of ”manana,”

and China the land of ”maskee,” so Java is the land of ”never mind.” You will hear the expression dozens of times in the course of a talk between residents of Java--at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end of sentences.

”I think it will rain to-morrow, but--never mind.”

”I missed the train, but--never mind.”

”I'm not feeling well, but--never mind.”

You hear it all the time, all through Java.

In Java we had the best coffee we had struck since leaving Paris, in fact, the first real good coffee we had found. Even worthy Abdullah, our camp cook, was considerable of a failure at coffee making. The Boro Boedoer ruins are among the most stupendous in the world; the volcanoes of Java are like chimneys in Pittsburg, the terraced rice fields are beautiful beyond belief, but--never mind. I think I shall remember Java chiefly for its delicious coffee and for my house-to-house hunt for a waterwheel.

I was sitting one day in the Singapore club talking to Colonel Glover of the British army, when a hand tapped me on my shoulder. I looked around and there stood the King of Christmas Island. I no more expected to see him than I did the great Emperor Charlemagne, for it had been many years since we were college mates at Purdue University. His story is romantic.

He is the nephew of Sir John Murray, who owns immense phosphate deposits in Christmas Island, two hundred miles south of Java Head. Years ago he went out to help work these great deposits and has climbed up until now he is the virtual head of the island. His authority is absolute and he has come to be called the King of Christmas Island. His every-day name is that of his distinguished uncle, Sir John, but his Sunday name is ”King.”

For a day or two we motored around Singapore and it was worth seeing to note how the tourists stared when I casually said, ”Well, King, let's have a bamboo.” In a day or two he was going to meet his wife, who was just coming from England with a little three-months-old crown prince whom he had not yet seen. Then, together, the royal family was going back to Christmas Island on one of the king's s.h.i.+ps.

[Drawing: _The Call of the East_]

The China coast is distinguished for its excellent United States consular officials. And it hasn't been so for many years. Our representative in Singapore, Mr. Dubois, is one of the best men I have yet encountered in one of our consulates. He is a new-comer in Singapore and yet in his few months he has added more prestige to our consulate general than all the former men put together. One can not but wonder why he is not a minister or an amba.s.sador, instead of only a consul general.

Hongkong has been fortunate in having an excellent representative in Mr.

Rublee, and his recent untimely death is a distinct loss to the country.

Mr. Wilder is in Shanghai and he is decidedly a man of the best mental and temperamental equipment. So now an American traveler may go up and down the China coast and ”point with pride” to his nation's representatives. How different it was ten or twelve years ago!

We barely managed to get on board the _Prinz Ludwig_--Singapore to Hongkong. It is one of the N.D. Lloyd's crack s.h.i.+ps and everybody tries to take it. We got the last cabin, as usual, and spent hours thanking our lucky stars.

The China Sea is chronically disposed to be disagreeable, but on this occasion it was quite well behaved. There were three days of delightful suns.h.i.+ne and then a sudden blighting chill in the air. We landed in Hongkong with overcoats b.u.t.toned up and with garments drenched by the rains and mist clouds that battled around the great peaks of this little island. The hotels were jammed to the sidewalks and we got the last room at the Hongkong Hotel, while throngs were turned away; the steamers for the States were booked full for several voyages ahead and tourists were rus.h.i.+ng around in despair. The _Asia_ had been booked up to the limit for weeks and it seemed as if we might have to wait a long time before getting berths on any s.h.i.+p. But some one unexpectedly had to give up a state-room and we were fortunate in getting it.

I had a great desire to see Manila again. It had been ten years since I left there in the ”days of the empire” and everything in me quivered with longing to revisit the place where I spent my golden period of adventure. We booked on the old _Yuen Sang_, a friend of former days, and the skipper, Captain Percy Rolfe, handsome, cultured, and capable, was still in command. He loves the China Sea and has steadfastly refused to be lured away by offers of greater s.h.i.+ps and more important commands.

When we engaged our pa.s.sage the agent warned us that the vessel was carrying a cargo of naphtha and kerosene and that we might not wish to risk it; but we went. A j.a.p and a Chinaman were the only two other pa.s.sengers, and they were invisible during the sixty hours to cross.

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