Changes & Chances
Chapter 15 A Man’s Man
The first Java chaplain Philip Hunter (August 1910-February 1916) was a man's man. His first parish in a comfortable suburb of his native Sydney just confirmed that he itched to be off and away. Serving in parishes in Victoria and Tasmania still did not satisfy his adventurous spirit, so he sought opportunities in other parts of the British Empire, that “dominion over palm and pine” of which the vastness of Australia was but a fraction. As a military chaplain to the British forces in the South African War he was in his element. After the British victory Hunter took a posting to Singapore, the British bastion of the Far East. Then Java came up. Many fifty-five year olds are looking to slow down but Hunter was up to the Bishop’s challenge for a man with the strength and the energy to pastor a flock scattered across the vast island. In accordance with the rules of the JCC, he had to divide his time more or less equally between the various parts of his 1000 kilometre long parish. In practice this meant that, after having been in residence at Batavia for about four weeks, he was away for about six or seven weeks. The vestry register, for instance, reveals that in 1911 he officiated at Batavia on 21 Sundays, and was on tour for 31. Hunter thought it his duty to visit as many of the British community as he possibly could reach, which was a comparatively easy task in the bigger towns. However, the rubber boom of 1911 brought an increase to the British population in Java, necessitating long horseback journeys to the isolated estates carved out of the jungle north and south of the main railroad.
Just a rail trip the length of Java was an adventure, crossing deep mountain gorges, speeding through plains of rice paddy that extended into the hazy distance, skirting an idyllic coastline dotted with tiny, brightly painted fishing boats, then suddenly entering busy, crowded cities. In each of these cities was a quiet bungalow, a club or a hall where he would conduct a prayer book service for the British residents, a dozen in Semarang, half a dozen in Bandung, a whole crowd in Surabaya. Then there were the most scattered members of the flock who were even more grateful for a visit. These were the rubber pioneers, generally young British men who had come to seek their fortune and adventure.
One incident that Keen relates illustrates the difficult conditions of the time. Returning from Surabaya in December 1911, Hunter was told at an Estate that not far away, somewhere in the wilds near the south coast a new rubber plantation had been started, and that he would find Britishers there. Wishing to bring these men some Christmas cheer, he travelled by local train to the nearest station, got a horse and set out on a veritable expedition, having to swim two flooded rivers with the animal, because Christmas is the height of the wet season in Java. At last, after a 3 hours' ride uphill through the jungle along a bridle path, the bedraggled chaplain came to the Manager's bamboo hut. There he was surprised to find just one lonely and depressed 18-year-old. He eventually got the story out of the lad that the previous day he had buried his mate in the clearing. What had happened was that the mate had set out at daybreak to the nearest town to buy some liquor for a make-do Christmas party. However, he had drowned in a mountain torrent. From churchyards in Tasmania to battlefields by the Euphrates Hunter was to take many funerals in his adventurous career. There was always a poignancy of an untimely death, particularly as he read from the Prayer Book over the young Englishman's grave:
"Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery.
He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower;
He fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay."
That night the lad was persuaded to come into town, where a family Hunter knew would look after him. When, the next morning, the two rode out of the clearing, the jungle grave with the wooden cross was a little less God-forsaken than the day before.
A little later, on 11 November 1913, another burial was recorded, this time in the more civilised setting of the gardens of the church compound. I imagine it was quite a jolly affair, with Hunter and the committee of the British Protestant Community all giving their opinions about the depth and dimensions of the grave while the poor gardener struggled with the sticky clods of wet red clay that clung to his spade. This is not surprising considering that this was the second time around for the deceased and that after 102 years mouldering in the Batavia clay there had in fact been very little of Lieutenant-Colonel William Campbell left to rebury. I also imagine the men would have had mercy on the perspiring labourer and the box of remains was lowered into a grave a good deal shallower than the traditional six feet. After a decent pause for prayers the conversations would have continued, it being agreed that they had done the right and decent thing in taking the opportunity of the rebuilding of the General Post Office to recover Campbell's gravestone from its position by the courtyard well and saving it from the indignity of being the washing stone for the local kampong women to perform their laundry. It was all the more fitting that Campbell was laid to rest in the safety of the precincts of the British church seeing that they were marking the centenary of British rule in Java. Raffles had represented the best of British spirit: a crusader against slavery and monopoly, a champion of fair and free trade, law and order.
It had come to the attention of one of the committee that during some extensive alterations up at Kali Besar in the old quarter of town another four tombstones from the Raffles era had just been found face downward on the floor of one of the godowns. In fact, one of them was no less than Captain Bowen, who had died on a mission to clean out the pirates in East Borneo. It was decided that the recovered stones should be placed in the east gallery, resting against the church wall. Captain Bowen's took pride of pace with the evocative epitaph,
Beneath this stone is deposited the remains of James Bowen esq. Captain of His Majesty’s Ship 'Phoenix'. Born November 29th 1782. Died December 26th 1812, in consequence of a disease brought on by his exertions at an attack on a powerful pirate at Sambasse.
The final gravestone to be installed in the church was recovered a couple of decades later from Rempoa to the south-west of the city where it had been used to bridge a drain. The deceased had left the Company’s employ, married a genteel Dutchwoman and joined the ranks of the landed gentry – but not for long. His stone has been a source of grim amusement ever since, so memorable that it needs to be quoted in full. It took me a while to understand that the sixth line of the verse refers to an hourglass:
Sacred to the memory of William Barrett Esqre formerly a lieutenant in the Honbele Companys Marine and lately impt & expt ware house keeper at Batavia who departed this life on the 8th September 1814 aged 34 years
O! How uncertain are the days of men
Certain to die but yet uncertain when
An instance here you have before your eyes
How soon the helthiest man’s cut down dies
At morn I rose in helth and in my bloom
And ere the sun was set my glass was run
Reader reflect prepare to follow me
For the next grave that’s made may be
For thee.
After his contractual three years of service, Hunter went on six months' leave to Australia and New Zealand, facilitated by the bishop's provision of a locum. At the bishop's request, he consented to stay another eighteen months, but his heart lay with the patriotic cause, so in February 1916 he reported to the military authorities in Singapore and received orders to proceed to Mesopotamia where he contracted inflammation of the lungs. He went on to England to minister in a camp where he died during an influenza epidemic early in 1917.
The first Java chaplain Philip Hunter (August 1910-February 1916) was a man's man. His first parish in a comfortable suburb of his native Sydney just confirmed that he itched to be off and away. Serving in parishes in Victoria and Tasmania still did not satisfy his adventurous spirit, so he sought opportunities in other parts of the British Empire, that “dominion over palm and pine” of which the vastness of Australia was but a fraction. As a military chaplain to the British forces in the South African War he was in his element. After the British victory Hunter took a posting to Singapore, the British bastion of the Far East. Then Java came up. Many fifty-five year olds are looking to slow down but Hunter was up to the Bishop’s challenge for a man with the strength and the energy to pastor a flock scattered across the vast island. In accordance with the rules of the JCC, he had to divide his time more or less equally between the various parts of his 1000 kilometre long parish. In practice this meant that, after having been in residence at Batavia for about four weeks, he was away for about six or seven weeks. The vestry register, for instance, reveals that in 1911 he officiated at Batavia on 21 Sundays, and was on tour for 31. Hunter thought it his duty to visit as many of the British community as he possibly could reach, which was a comparatively easy task in the bigger towns. However, the rubber boom of 1911 brought an increase to the British population in Java, necessitating long horseback journeys to the isolated estates carved out of the jungle north and south of the main railroad.
Just a rail trip the length of Java was an adventure, crossing deep mountain gorges, speeding through plains of rice paddy that extended into the hazy distance, skirting an idyllic coastline dotted with tiny, brightly painted fishing boats, then suddenly entering busy, crowded cities. In each of these cities was a quiet bungalow, a club or a hall where he would conduct a prayer book service for the British residents, a dozen in Semarang, half a dozen in Bandung, a whole crowd in Surabaya. Then there were the most scattered members of the flock who were even more grateful for a visit. These were the rubber pioneers, generally young British men who had come to seek their fortune and adventure.
One incident that Keen relates illustrates the difficult conditions of the time. Returning from Surabaya in December 1911, Hunter was told at an Estate that not far away, somewhere in the wilds near the south coast a new rubber plantation had been started, and that he would find Britishers there. Wishing to bring these men some Christmas cheer, he travelled by local train to the nearest station, got a horse and set out on a veritable expedition, having to swim two flooded rivers with the animal, because Christmas is the height of the wet season in Java. At last, after a 3 hours' ride uphill through the jungle along a bridle path, the bedraggled chaplain came to the Manager's bamboo hut. There he was surprised to find just one lonely and depressed 18-year-old. He eventually got the story out of the lad that the previous day he had buried his mate in the clearing. What had happened was that the mate had set out at daybreak to the nearest town to buy some liquor for a make-do Christmas party. However, he had drowned in a mountain torrent. From churchyards in Tasmania to battlefields by the Euphrates Hunter was to take many funerals in his adventurous career. There was always a poignancy of an untimely death, particularly as he read from the Prayer Book over the young Englishman's grave:
"Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery.
He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower;
He fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay."
That night the lad was persuaded to come into town, where a family Hunter knew would look after him. When, the next morning, the two rode out of the clearing, the jungle grave with the wooden cross was a little less God-forsaken than the day before.
A little later, on 11 November 1913, another burial was recorded, this time in the more civilised setting of the gardens of the church compound. I imagine it was quite a jolly affair, with Hunter and the committee of the British Protestant Community all giving their opinions about the depth and dimensions of the grave while the poor gardener struggled with the sticky clods of wet red clay that clung to his spade. This is not surprising considering that this was the second time around for the deceased and that after 102 years mouldering in the Batavia clay there had in fact been very little of Lieutenant-Colonel William Campbell left to rebury. I also imagine the men would have had mercy on the perspiring labourer and the box of remains was lowered into a grave a good deal shallower than the traditional six feet. After a decent pause for prayers the conversations would have continued, it being agreed that they had done the right and decent thing in taking the opportunity of the rebuilding of the General Post Office to recover Campbell's gravestone from its position by the courtyard well and saving it from the indignity of being the washing stone for the local kampong women to perform their laundry. It was all the more fitting that Campbell was laid to rest in the safety of the precincts of the British church seeing that they were marking the centenary of British rule in Java. Raffles had represented the best of British spirit: a crusader against slavery and monopoly, a champion of fair and free trade, law and order.
It had come to the attention of one of the committee that during some extensive alterations up at Kali Besar in the old quarter of town another four tombstones from the Raffles era had just been found face downward on the floor of one of the godowns. In fact, one of them was no less than Captain Bowen, who had died on a mission to clean out the pirates in East Borneo. It was decided that the recovered stones should be placed in the east gallery, resting against the church wall. Captain Bowen's took pride of pace with the evocative epitaph,
Beneath this stone is deposited the remains of James Bowen esq. Captain of His Majesty’s Ship 'Phoenix'. Born November 29th 1782. Died December 26th 1812, in consequence of a disease brought on by his exertions at an attack on a powerful pirate at Sambasse.
The final gravestone to be installed in the church was recovered a couple of decades later from Rempoa to the south-west of the city where it had been used to bridge a drain. The deceased had left the Company’s employ, married a genteel Dutchwoman and joined the ranks of the landed gentry – but not for long. His stone has been a source of grim amusement ever since, so memorable that it needs to be quoted in full. It took me a while to understand that the sixth line of the verse refers to an hourglass:
Sacred to the memory of William Barrett Esqre formerly a lieutenant in the Honbele Companys Marine and lately impt & expt ware house keeper at Batavia who departed this life on the 8th September 1814 aged 34 years
O! How uncertain are the days of men
Certain to die but yet uncertain when
An instance here you have before your eyes
How soon the helthiest man’s cut down dies
At morn I rose in helth and in my bloom
And ere the sun was set my glass was run
Reader reflect prepare to follow me
For the next grave that’s made may be
For thee.
After his contractual three years of service, Hunter went on six months' leave to Australia and New Zealand, facilitated by the bishop's provision of a locum. At the bishop's request, he consented to stay another eighteen months, but his heart lay with the patriotic cause, so in February 1916 he reported to the military authorities in Singapore and received orders to proceed to Mesopotamia where he contracted inflammation of the lungs. He went on to England to minister in a camp where he died during an influenza epidemic early in 1917.