The office work stopped altogether. All came to have a look: European—both Pure and Mixed-Blood—and Natives. Not a single person dared enter the paymaster’s office. Only two people had that right: paymaster and manager.
Sastro Kassier was still screaming hysterically when Frits Homerus Vlekkenbaaij arrived and growled: “Shut your snout!” Immediately Sastro Kassier was silent.
Plikemboh entered through the crowd, which was parted by the aura of his power. Sastro huddled in a corner, his eyes unable to move from the gaping cash box.
“What’s all this about, you, monkey Sastro Kassier?”
The paymaster, no longer able to feel the sharpness of such an insult, reported nervously: “Someone has broken into the office, broken into the cash box.”
“You’re the only one here.”
“Night attendant! Here!” shouted Sastro.
The night attendant pushed his face up against the iron lattice. “Yes, Ndoro.”
“Tell us: Who was here last night?”
The attendant stared at Plikemboh for quite some time, and the manager stared back at him with those marblelike eyes.
“No one, Ndoro. No one was here.”
“But what did you just tell me? You said Tuan Besar Kuasa was here last night. Now you’re going back on what you said. The day attendant heard you. Day attendant!”
Now the day attendant pushed his face up against the partition. His eyes followed the look of the night attendant, to Plikemboh, to the paymaster, then to the floor.
“You witnessed what the night attendant said to me.”
“Yes, Master, Ndoro.”
“Tell us what he said: that Tuan Besar Kuasa came in last night.”
“The night attendant said that no one entered here.”
“Liar! Both of them are liars!”
“You are the lair!” Plikemboh pointed to Sastro Kassier. “What time did you go home yesterday? Eleven! Who inspected your things before you left? Attendant! Did you examine his things when he left, day attendant?”
“No, Tuan Besar.”
“Who can witness that you didn’t take the factory’s money? Who’s your witness?”
“Who can witness that I
did
take the money?” Sastro Kassier protested weakly.
“Answer first: Who can witness that you
didn’t
take it?”
“There is no witness,” answered Sastro.
“So it was you who took it. Report this to the Marechausee!”
“Not yet, Tuan Besar Kuasa. Not yet! We must investigate who has been here first. Only Tuan Besar and I have keys. There are no signs that either the door or the cash-box lock have been forced. They must have been opened by the right key.”
“You dare accuse me? The manager?”
“Who knows?” Sastro Kassier began to fight back. “If it wasn’t Tuan, it could only have been me. There is no one else who could have opened this cash box except us two.”
“Very well, let me just call in the Marechausee. We’ll see you admit it all under their riding whips.” He started to move away, stopped, and called out, “Karl, Karl!” When the person he had called arrived he gave the order in Dutch: “Draw up a letter of accusation to give to the authorities, for the Marechausee too. Do it now. I’ll take it to them myself.” And then speaking in Malay: “Everyone back to work! You too, monkey!”
The crowd dispersed. The paymaster was left facing Plikemboh. The closest people to them were the day and night attendants. Both were pale. They were facing away from the paymaster’s office but their ears were alert, straining to hear.
“In short,” said Plikemboh, “who took the factory’s money is not the important thing now. What is important is that all wages due to the foremen and coolies must be paid today. Must be!”
“If there is no money, it’s impossible.”
“That’s your affair, paymaster. Your name is Kassier, isn’t it, eh? The factory put its trust in you. It is your responsibility. How much was lost altogether?”
Without opening his books, the paymaster replied: “Forty-five thousand guilders and five cents.”
“Quite a lot. No one has ever had that much money. How much are the coolies’ wages this week?”
“Nine thousand and forty-four guilders.”
“Good. Pay up that nine thousand and forty-four guilders. Don’t fall down on your job.”
“I don’t have even one guilder.”
“Where did you go from here yesterday?”
“Home.”
“And didn’t go out again? People saw you leaving your house. Who did you go to see? Why are you silent? You must have been going somewhere.”
Now Sastro Kassier understood: He had fallen into a trap prepared especially for him. He also understood that in a case like this where two people are accused, one a Pure-Blood manager, perhaps also a shareholder, and the other a Native, the Native is in the wrong place and the Pure is in the right. Since he had been
paymaster, the money in his care had never been short one cent. That was before; it was different now. Where were you last night? Who is your witness? The night attendant would stand fast with his lies. It was enough to keep saying that no one had come in, for there was no reason for anyone to visit the office at night. And a manager who was perhaps even a shareholder would never rob money from his own factory.
“Come on, tell me. Where did you go? You still won’t confess? Whom did you meet? Why are you silent? Fine—you don’t want to answer. In short, you still have to pay today’s wages and salaries. No delay—that is a factory regulation, part of our agreement with the government. Do you hear? The government!”
Before leaving, he still needed to turn around and add: “Do you want to try to fool the government? The government troops? The Marechausee? The police? You can try if you like.” Then he left.
Everyone stared across at the paymaster’s office, now like an iron cage. Each thanked God not to be the one singled out for this disaster.
The paymaster stood gazing at the yawning cash box. He did not know what to do. He was no longer concerned with the disappearance of the money, but with his responsibility to ensure that the wages and salaries were paid. He sensed his fingers going cold because he wasn’t counting out the money. In a moment, the foremen would start arriving to collect their pay. A gang of coolies would be waiting upon each of them. He knew the danger that threatened if the money wasn’t paid over as it should be. He also knew with certainty that the agreement between the factory and the government did exist.
Slowly he closed the cash box and locked it. Without looking at anyone, he left his office, locked the door, and headed for Plikemboh’s office, walking with his head bowed.
“Ha, you’ve come, eh? What do you have to say?”
He wanted to gouge out those marblelike eyes from that European face.
“Tuan Besar Kuasa Manager, I don’t have the money to pay the wages. It is up to Tuan Besar Kuasa to decide what is best.”
“Sit!” ordered Plikemboh.
For the first time in his fourteen years at the factory he sat on the chair opposite the manager.
“What do you want now?”
“The coolies and foremen must be paid today. There is no time to borrow money from the bank. Tuan must lend me the money.”
“Lend you money?” Plikemboh hissed. “That’s an insolent request indeed. Nine thousand and forty-four guilders—the same price as four new stone houses with land and furniture. You’re crazy!”
“Only Tuan Besar Kuasa can help me.”
“You shall be dismissed, punished, everything you own will be taken from you. You’ll be a pauper, a vagabond, a beggar. And it will happen today, if you can’t pay those wages.”
“Whatever may happen, then let it happen. But Tuan too will be in trouble if the wages can’t be paid. The factory will be closed for breaking the agreement with the government. What can one do?”
Frits Homerus Vlekkenbaaij laughed to hide his surprise. Then: “You’re clever, heh; you’ve a lot of cunning in you. You want to drag me into it?” Now his tone was more friendly. “Yes, I must help you to pay out those wages. Here, sign this agreement first. Put your signature and your thumbprint on it. You’d better do it.”
It became clearer still to Sastro Kassier. Of course it was Plikemboh who had arranged all this. Plikemboh had already prepared the letter of agreement: It demanded the handing over of Sastro’s grown-up daughter within three days of signing the letter. On handing her over, his debt to Plikemboh and all the remaining missing money would be taken care of by the manager himself.
Sastro Kassier forced himself to believe that this was indeed the genuine fruit of his meditation and fasting over the last two nights. He had not yet eaten or taken any drink. But today, anyway, the foremen and coolies would receive their money. He knew he could not avoid his responsibilities as paymaster. With a prayer that God lay a curse upon it, he signed the agreement, then added his thumbprint.
He received the money. Plikemboh watched it all, smiling.
The days now passed tensely for Surati. She knew the story of Auntie Sanikem well. She was unwilling to go freely to become
someone’s concubine, isolated from the world, looked upon by everyone as something strange, a public spectacle.
Her mother kept pressuring her not to agree to anything her father suggested. She was afraid of her father, but sad for her mother. From childhood she had been taught to fear and obey her parents, with words, with beatings, with pinchings. Fear of her parents was a part of her personality. But she was still more afraid of the Europeans and their weapons.
Her happiness in life vanished. Her mother’s rebellion against her father turned everything upside down. She could not stand to see her father so abused by her mother; neither could she stand to see her mother belittled and ignored by her father. If the gods and goddesses in the heavens fought each other as viciously as her parents now fought, the earth would tremble and be forced to find a place to anchor itself.
“Don’t make your mother and your sisters carry a burden of shame. Become a concubine? Be a nyai? May God protect us, may it never happen. It’s not proper, not right. No one can say it’s right.”
Surati understood. She must carry out her mother’s wishes and not shame her sisters. The whole neighborhood agreed with her mother. She understood too, better than they, that it was her father who held power over her, more power than anyone else. If her father wanted her to do it, there was no power that could stop him. Not the police, not the troops, and certainly not just the village head. And she would not dare oppose him.
She lost all desires during those tense days. Must she just surrender herself to whatever was to happen? And so save her parents’ marriage? Bring them together again in an atmosphere of perpetual enmity? Or must she rebel, so that when her mother sided with her, a divorce would follow? What would be the fate then of her little sisters? She couldn’t decide. She herself had come face to face with Plikemboh. She would never willingly be taken by him! She shivered.
That evening, after the factory whistle had finished its repetitive screaming, she was lying in despair on her bed. In the front parlor, her mother was venting all her fury on Sastro Kassier: “Miserable descendant of the seller of children! As long as you’re all right yourself! A man with no backbone! A worm could still
crawl on and try!” Her voice was harsh and furious but her muscles were powerless.
“Surati!” called her father.
Surati came out of her room and stood with head bowed and hands clasped before her as was proper. At that moment, she knew: Her voice had volume but no power.
“So, Rati,” Sastro Kassier opened his speech, “three more days and I will take you to him, to Tuan Besar Kuasa Manager. In all things it is Allah that hands out fate and good fortune. It is He who decides all things in accord with His wishes.”
Surati understood that she must now answer, and it would be an answer from a frightened and obedient child. She knew too that such obedience and fear meant her own destruction. All of a sudden she remembered the smallpox epidemic that was spreading wildly in the south. In a little while everyone would be lashed by the disease. Tulangan too. What was the difference between the destruction looming before her now and the viciousness of smallpox? As a good daughter, she would not disappoint her father.
“I just obey, Father.”
“You will do what I say, my Child? What do you mean by obey?”
“In whatever way it is Father’s wish.”
“Yes, Child, it is only you that can save your father, that can stop your father from being dismissed, from being put in jail.”
“Let him be dismissed. Let him be accused, Rati, so that he knows what it means to be a man.”
“No, Mother. We would all be ashamed as a result.”
“Ah, you, Rati, Surati, to accept being concubine of an infidel, a cursed devil.”
“We all eat from him,” Sastro reminded everyone.
“Let it be, Mother; my sisters are still many. What does it mean to lose just one egg? I will go there myself. No need to be escorted like Sanikem.”
“Thanks be to God, Rati, praise be to God. You are a child who truly understand the difficulties of her parents. A child so devoted to her parents will be honored in both this world and the next.”
“Mouth of a liar!” Djumilah screamed. “Not honor. He doesn’t know the difference between honor and humiliation.”
“But,” Surati went on, “allow me to go out tonight to meditate. Don’t look for me. When the time has come, I will go myself to the house of Tuan Besar Kuasa Manager.”
“What kind of meditation, Child? Late at night like this?” Djumilah could not hold back her tears. All her anger melted away in pity for her daughter. “With so much illness about now?”
“Yes, Mother. If its parents can no longer do anything for an egg, then the egg must roll away itself to find its own way in life.”
Djumilah could no longer hold back her emotion. She embraced her daughter.
“Where are you going? All this is your own father’s—”
“Let it be, Mother. Now let me leave.”
“Where are you going? I will come with you.”
“Let it be, Ma. What need is there? This daughter of yours is an egg that must be sacrificed. Stay and live in happiness with Father.”
And so it was. With a small bag containing clothes, matches, kerosene, and dried foods, the girl left to make her way into the thick blackness of the night. Her feet took her southward. After traveling quite a long way, she sat down in a daze beside the road. What must she do? All she knew was that she must leave that house. The roof that had always sheltered her from rain and heat now housed a nest of quarrels, had lost its power to shelter and protect its peacefulness, and all because of her. But where must she go now? She knew her mother and sisters would try to follow her. She stood up and walked a bit farther. Quickly, faster and faster. She slipped behind a hedge, disappearing from the view of anyone following her.