Ran Away From the Dutch: Borneo From South to North
9781465680884
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
“If you please, Colonel, four men have not answered to their names at roll-call.” “Who are they?” “Schlickeisen, Wienersdorf, La Cueille and Johannes.” “Two Swiss, a Belgian and a native,” muttered the Colonel. “And has it been ascertained how late they were seen at the military kampong?” “Impossible, Colonel, the gates close at six and after that hour may not be reopened without your permission.” “Let a corporal and three men be immediately despatched to enquire after them. Then close the gates and double the guard so that means may be at hand to send out aid if required.” “Right, Colonel.” “Let me also have a full report of the search in the kampong and its results.” “Right, Colonel! Any further orders?” A negative being indicated by a shake of the head, the sergeant saluted and quitted the apartment. The Colonel rose from his rocking-chair. A sudden anxiety seemed to possess him. But a few moments before his face had seemed to be cast in bronze. Not a muscle had moved. Now, however, he had become restless and perturbed. He turned up the flame of his lamp and going to a safe took down a large volume. This he placed on the table and began to read attentively. The book contained extracts from the army register, that wonderful description of the whole of the Dutch Indian force which is kept posted with the most laudable exactitude at the war office in Batavia. “Schlickeisen,” read the Colonel; “a Swiss born at Steinbach, in the canton of Glarus, twenty-one years old. Father a priest.” He turned over another leaf. “Wienersdorf, also a Swiss; born at Winterthür, in the canton of Zürich, twenty-three years old. Father a professor of natural philosophy. “La Cueille, a Belgian, born at Cheratte, in the province of Liege, twenty-six years old. Father a miner in the coal mines of Jupille. “Johannes, born at Padang, island of Sumatra; about thirty years old. Father unknown. Mother the Niasian woman, Ma Troeni.” The Colonel closed the book; he could obtain from it no further information. “A curious affair,” he muttered, “and one that will cause endless trouble unless it should prove to be only a drunken brawl.” Taking another large folio from his collection of books, he turned over a few pages and read: “Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf were recommended at the registry to be educated as officers. They were subsequently dismissed from the college for taking part in the insurrection of the Swiss at Samarang. The one was a candidate for the bar, the other had finished his curriculum at the Realschule and had received his diploma as teacher of natural philosophy and chemistry. Both had studied at Zürich. Nothing seems to be known of La Cueille. He has said that he was once assistant to a gun-maker at Meester Cornelis, but had been dismissed for drunkenness. And Johannes, another of those Indian products of animal passion, whose birth is almost a misfortune to him.” Thus far had the Colonel read and commented when a knock was heard and the sergeant again appeared. In correct military attitude he waited until his superior officer should interrogate him. “Well, are they found?” “No, Colonel, we have scoured the whole of the military kampong. It is quite deserted. All we have found is this letter, addressed to you by Johannes and left by him in his hut.”
