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CHAPTER XIV
THE STRAITS SETTLEMENTS

The Straits Settlements, which comprise Singapore, Penang, and Malacca, besides the protected states of Salangore Perak, and Sungeilljong, contain about 1500 square miles, and nearly half a million of inhabitants. They were transferred from the control of the Indian Government to that of the Secretary of State for the Colonies in 1867. Singapore is an island about twenty-seven miles long, situated at the southern extremity of the Malay Peninsula. It is a port of call for all vessels to the east, and 100,000 tons of coal are always kept in readiness on the wharves of the coaling stations.

The approach to Singapore through the Straits of Rhio gives you a very disappointing idea of the town, which looks flat and ugly. Very different are the first impressions,—which count for so much when travelling, and perpetually seeing new places, when Singapore is approached from the western entrance to the harbour.

We took one of the little gharries, that may be called the carriage of India and its dependencies, to drive to the Hôtel de l'Europe. They resemble a light build of four-wheeler, only in place of glass windows there are venetian shutters. The small ponies are driven by Malays, who sit generally not on the high box seat, but on the footboard of the carriage.

We found ourselves driving through another Chinatown, for the Chinese swarm and predominate in the population as much in Singapore as they do in Batavia. The Hôtel de l'Europe, with its rambling succession of houses, is well known by many hundreds of travellers, for Singapore is a great central depôt where travellers meet going from Europe to Australia, China, and Japan.

We drove up to Government House, passing through its park of lawns studded with shrubs and the beautiful Traveller's Palm, of which each branch spreads itself out at the top to form such a perfect fan shape.

Government House stands upon a hill, and though a very handsome building, it produces a curious combination of colours. I suppose the primary colour is the buff of the stone, but it is hidden by the chocolate of the shutters forming the upper part of the very lofty windows, which below are shaded by green venetians. The effect is uncommon and pretty. The entrance also is striking, the marble steps of the hall and staircase being bordered by palms, the blue and yellow stripes of the carpet showing out between. Several peons, in their long white tunics, with the gold scarlet cords wound round the waist, and scarlet hats, were waiting about. The Governor, Sir Frederick Weld, is at present away, but Mr. and Mrs. Cecil Smith received us very kindly, and asked us to stay at Government House.

I looked forward to evening service in the cathedral, for three Sundays had passed without any service for us. The cathedral stands in a quadrangle amongst trees, and has a pretty tower and nave, but the stone is not weather-proof, and has turned mouldy in dark patches. Outside there were rows of men standing round the building pulling the cord that passes through the hole in the frame, and inside I saw that comical effect of punkahs in a church for the first time. Through the length of the church the punkahs were swinging alternately on either side, and those in the chancel were only waiting for the entrance of the choir to begin waving likewise. We heard the sermon on the approaching death of the old year, and caught glimpses of the clergyman between the flying backwards and forwards of the punkahs. The Bishop of Singapore and Sarawak was there, arrived that morning from a distant part of his diocese, which extends into Borneo.

The heat in Singapore varies but little throughout the year. Lying on the Equator we should imagine it was terrific, but in those hot climates there are all kinds of arrangements for draughts and currents of air, which we forget when thinking about them in England. Nearly all the rooms are only partially partitioned off from the passage outside, allowing a free current of air to pass over the top of the screen. Some have a wooden shutter that folds back under the window and gives another draught. Curtains are hung before the doorway, or shutters halfway up, so that the door need not be closed. Abundance of servants, even in small establishments, take away the necessity of doing anything for yourself. Punkahs are hung in different parts of the room, and the punkah-wallah, specially kept for that purpose, keeps you in a fresh current of air whilst reading or writing.

Monday, December 29th.—A gharry took us into the town in the morning. The plain is a broad belt of park flanking the seashore, and round it cluster the hotel, the High Street, the cathedral, the Raffles College, and the handsome grey stone court-house, with the traditional elephant in marble in front. Round the little square of Raffles Place lie the shops. The streets of Singapore are narrow, and very foreign-looking. They have a peculiar way of circling round the corner, that is to say, the houses are built so as to "round the corner." The upper storey has a projecting balcony, which forms with its many arches a piazza. Underneath here the wares of the shops are displayed on counters in the street, and it forms a cool and shady promenade.

There is a great charm about these streets in the wonderful mixture of races, and their characteristic costumes. You see the Hindu with his white muslin dress and turban; the Cingalee with a bright saronga and tortoise-shell comb in the hair; the Parsee with his peculiar black conical hat; Arabs and Hadjis, recognized by the long flowing robe that evidences a pilgrimage to Mecca; "Chitties," or money-lenders, with shaven heads, dressed all in white; Klings with their lank black hair; Japanese and Chinese in their indigo dyed tunics. All were dark, but the colour of the skin varied from ebony to olive-brown; all were scantily clothed, but all added to the picturesqueness of the scene by some bright bit of colour, particularly the Chinamen with their red and purple paper umbrellas. Drays drawn by bullocks, gharries, and many jinrickshas, of which there are some 2000 in Singapore, flocked the streets.

I had plenty of time to observe all this while waiting outside the shipping agencies for C., who was trying to obtain some definite information about a steamer to Rangoon. We found we had, after all, to give up British Burmah and the temple at Rangoon, inlaid with sapphires and diamonds, because we found it entailed six days' waiting at Moulmein, three days at Rangoon, and three changes of steamers, besides a great expenditure of time.

We drove to the Botanical Gardens in the evening, which are celebrated for their beauty, but I was decidedly disappointed in them. We saw there the sago palm, which has such a beautiful grey fern leaf. When the branch is cut open the seeds are found inside that form the sago. Also the betel-nut palm, which has the thin grey stem with a tuft of palm leaves at the top, and hundreds of those green berries hanging down, which the natives love to chew. We saw a clove-tree, which is about the size, and has the same shaped leaf as the orange-tree. These leaves when bruised have the spicy smell of the clove, Amid all the calladiums, crotons, and maidenhair ferns, it seems so strange to see no real flowers. The Malay Peninsula has none except those like the alamander, bugenvillea or pathodœa, and hibiscus, which are large blossoms, and grow on shrubs and trees. All the vegetables in Singapore have, too, to be imported either from China, or else from Hong Kong.

We drove home by the "Ladies' Mile," an avenue of palm-trees extending for one mile.

Disappointed of seeing China proper, I am anxious to see all I can of Chinese customs, in some of their camps. It had been arranged for us to go to a Chinese theatre after dinner. Mr. Maxwell, the head of the police, and a son of Sir Benson Maxwell, of Egyptian fame, very kindly accompanied us.

The drive through Chinatown was so bright and picturesque, the streets being alive with hundreds of jinrickshas, whose lamps flitted by us, in a procession of ladies taking the evening air in a drive round the town for the moderate sum of five cents. Flaming torches displayed the wares in the streets, and lighted the temporary stands whereon were laid the symposiums or suppers, for sale.

Arrived at the theatre, we went through a dark entrance up a ladder to a gallery where carpets and chairs with refreshments were laid out. Two little Chinese maidens with flattened noses and rouged and powdered cheeks, with curious bead head-dresses, were told off to fan us. The stage was lighted by five gas lights hung over the stage, and the general tone of brown and gold colouring was sombre and handsome. But all illusion is cast to the winds at once by the orchestra, in blue trowsers and nankeen coats, sitting in the centre of the stage, smoking and talking between whiles. The great feature of the evening is the noise. The tom-tom, the drum, and the chopsticks are made to deafen, and now and again when the scene reaches a culminating point, one of the musicians stands up, and dredges with all his might on the aforesaid tom-tom.

When we entered a Chinese lady who was about to become a priestess, was clasping her hands together in prayer on the stage, and singing a doleful song.

Again and again during the hour we stayed the mournful wail reappeared at different periods, and we were told that it was the favourite opera air of the Chinese. The dialogues and singing are carried on in falsetto, and the high-pitched nasal twang is most unpleasant to hear. The dresses are very beautiful, all made of valuable embroideries, and those that were brought up to us to see had no tinsel about them, but small looking-glasses instead, let in to brighten them on the stage. All the time during the nasal song of the priestess lady, which lasted an interminable time, people were walking casually across the stage, and the imagination has to be highly exalted to recognize that a man throwing his leg in the air represents mounting and riding on horseback. The Chinese are great adepts in tumbling, and certainly it was difficult to conceive how the man we saw, mounted on the top of three tables and one chair, could throw himself over backwards, turn a somersault in the air, and land on his feet without breaking his back. The tumbling was interpolated in the middle of the play, but it did not matter as there were no acts, and no dropping of the curtain.

The story rambled on about an emperor that was taken captive. A lady who was about to become a fish and return to the sea, gave her husband a charm by which he would be able to release the emperor. Then followed his appearance and the declaration of his mission before the chief Mandarins. The same story often lasts several weeks and it is wonderful how the interest is maintained, especially considering that the play is spoken in Mandarin, the dialect of the upper classes, and which is not understood by the lower. The dark and dirty pit, with one light, was empty, but it would fill up towards twelve o'clock, we were told, and the play is going on from the afternoon till two or three in the morning. Most of the theatres are now "starring," or giving public performances in the streets. The last we saw of the play was a free fight with a man left dead on the stage. Some one considerately went and fetched a pillow to place under his head to make him more comfortable, and after a decent lapse of time he got up and walked off the stage!

In an inner room off the gallery we were taken to see some opium-smoking. The process of preparing the opium is lengthy. It is held over a lamp on a piece of wire till it frizzles and swells into a bubble, and it is then manipulated on the outside of the ivory, before being plugged into the small hole. The woman, who was one of the actresses, drew at it gently, exhaling the smoke through the nostrils. The Chinese meanwhile stood round in an admiring group. They are delighted when strangers come to see their theatre, as was evinced by the preparations and curiosity shown about us, and by the heads peeping round the corner of the gallery.

We had but a short night's rest, for we had to be up at five the following morning.

By six we were driving out fifteen miles to breakfast with the Maharajah⁴ of Johore, in a carriage he had sent for us. A malarious mist rose from the town of Singapore beneath us. The road into the country was alive with bullock carts, and natives with their bamboo baskets bringing in produce for the town market. The flat road is hard and smooth, and the cocoa-nut palms and bamboo groves made us feel as if we were driving through a beautiful garden for nearly two hours.

We arrived at the Tibrau, or the old Straits, the route formerly taken by steamers going to China and Japan. The placid sheet of water puzzled us at first as to whether it was lake or river, for the wooded banks and promontories closing in around, made it seem unlike the "wide salt sea." A collection of huts were here, built on piles placed in the water. It seems strange why, with so much dry land at his disposal, John Chinaman should choose to erect his tenement hanging over the water. The low white building opposite with the red-tiled roof was Istana.

The Maharajah's steam-launch took us across the Straits and landed us under the gilded pagoda, ornamented with the crescent and the star, the Maharatic emblems of royalty. His Highness's secretary met us, and we walked across the road and up some steps to the garden, for it is not in any way fenced off from the road. The palace of Istana has two stories, and the broad verandahs and balconies surrounding it give to it many a broad shadow and cool depth. The entrance is a marble hall open on two sides, through which you look down a vista of little domes and arches of a pale blue tint. Up and down the archway on the other side paces the sentry, clad in loose brown holland uniform and gaiters, with a red fez and orange fringe.

The Maharajah of Johore is a man of about fifty years of age, with iron-grey hair and whiskers, and a full oriental face. He is Maharajah, or Great Rajah, because he governs his princedom of Johore without the assistance of a resident. He was dressed in a loose English gentleman's shooting suit, but wore the silk sarong, twisted round underneath the coat, and a braided smoking-cap. Six magnificent diamond and emerald rings glittered on the fingers of one hand, and six ruby and diamond on the other. The Maharajah has been a great traveller, and speaks English fairly well, though understanding it better. He intends to visit England again next year. Istana was hastily built for the visit of the Duke of Edinburgh, but it shows no traces of this. On the marble staircase hangs a portrait of Mr. Gladstone, whom the Maharajah learnt to admire, he says, during his last visit to England. The drawing-rooms are dark and handsome. Rows of lovely Japanese vases, with their own peculiar dull colours of brick-red, olive-green, and dull blue, line the room. A wonderful collection of Japanese spears and swords inlaid with mother-of-pearl, are arranged on the walls of an outside balcony or corridor, and all these the Maharajah brought back from his recent tour in Japan.

In the ball-room are full-length portraits of the Queen and Prince Albert, the Prince and Princess of Wales, the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, with two smaller portraits of George I. and II. over the door. The bedrooms were like any that you would find in an English country-house.

Some marble steps led to the grounds, where, in the space between the tennis court and the audience chamber, some Klings and Sikhs were being drilled. All the marble about the palace had to be imported from Europe. The Maharajah drives a break with four in hand, and has an English coachman and some English grooms. He is fond of shooting, and there is plenty of big game in the jungles of Johore, and tiger hunts are easily arranged. We had breakfast in the long, narrow dining-room. Some Chinese beans were served, and a Singapore dish consisting of sampan or sago, with cocoa-nut milk and sugar-cane sauce—a thick treacle—otherwise the food was completely European.

The Maharanee, a Chinese lady, was in town, for the Maharajah has two houses in Singapore, connected with Istana by a telephone. On leaving he gave us two pretty sarongs, but we did not say good-bye here, for his Highness drove back into town with us.

We were late in getting home, and had rather a rush to get off our luggage in a bullock-cart, and say good-bye at Government House, to be down in time at the wharf. Up to the last minute we thought we should miss the steamer, for the Malay servants could not find the wharf at which the Japan was lying. It was a relief to be on board at last and able to rest. Yesterday afternoon we did not know we were to leave Singapore to-day, and since then we have seen the Botanical Gardens, packed at intervals as we could, gone to the Chinese theatre, and that morning driven thirty miles out and seen Istana.

The agent was late in coming down, and it was five o'clock before we slipped our moorings. The entrance to the harbour on this, the western side, is beautiful. Wooded islands and the little hills above Singapore form a pretty channel. Even the P. and O. and French coaling stations, with their red-tiled roofs, look picturesque, as do the settlement of huts built on stakes into the water, and the houses nestling amongst the palms. Opposite the entrance to the channel, which is formed of red sandstone cliffs, stands the flagstaff of the signal station, where flags of every nation are run up, showing the departure and arrival of their ships.

A most exciting incident occurred just before the pilot left us. Two Chinese jumped overboard, and swam ashore to escape their articles. Their employers ship them on board, advancing them some money as a pledge, and then, when they are clear of the harbour, they escape by swimming on shore, or by having a boat waiting to pick them up. Their employers have no redress.

The Japan belongs to Apcar and Co., of Calcutta, and is employed in the opium trade between Calcutta and Hong Kong. The opium is government-grown in India, and it forms the most valuable of cargoes, 2400 chests being usually put on board, each of the approximate value of 1200 pounds.

The Japan has small accommodation, but some Parsees and an Armenian priest are our only passengers. Captain and Mrs. Gardner do the honours of their ship most pleasantly.

Wednesday, December 31st.—We were pointed out the coast of Malacca, but saw it so dimly that I should call it "distinguishing by intuition," as we knew we were in the straits of that name.

On our port bow were the Heads of Acheen, which we looked at with interest, when papers so lately have been talking about the rescue of the Nisero crew, seized by the Sultan of Acheen. The Dutch have good reason to hate this paltry little potentate, for not only have they had to pay the 40,000l. as the ransom for a British shipwrecked crew, but the war is swallowing up the 3,000,000l. surplus revenue which we heard so much about when in Java. We passed Pulo Jara, or Broom Island, after dinner, the point of departure, and where ships alter their course 4° for Penang.

We sat up on the deck in the moonlight on this the last night of the old year—and so ended our year of 1884.

January 1st, 1885.—The New Year came in for us at five in the morning, with three prolonged whistles from the funnel of the Japan as we came to the lovely entrance to the Penang roadstead. I hurried up on deck in déshabille, and found the chill of night yet on the beautifully wooded island where the lighthouse sends forth a brilliant light. The full yellow moon in the dark blue sky was just standing over it, and as we looked a shooting star fell down to earth. On the other hand faint tinges of red and yellow in the east told of the coming morn. With that strangely rapid change of the tropics, dawn turned to sunrise over the sugar plantations of Province Wellesley. We saw the native pilot, with his red petticoat fluttering in the breeze, on the bridge. We passed the large island, which is sacred to the leper hospital, of which there are some 300, chiefly among the Chinese immigrants. Some little fishing-vessels, that had been out all night, with their light still burning in the bows, were hovering about the patches of bamboo stakes. The sun rose, and we saw the red and white roofs of Penang clustering thickly on the flat peninsula, backed by the hill of 2000 feet, a mass of jungle.

We had a cup of early tea on deck, and then I went down to dress, and none too soon as it turned out. As we anchored within half a mile of the shore Mr. Harwood, the Registrar of the Supreme Court, came on board, with an invitation from Colonel Dunlop, the Resident Councillor of Penang, to spend the day at the Government bungalow on the hill. All arrangements had been made for us, and by six o'clock the harbour-master's gig had landed us on the wharf. A gharry drove us through the town, past the Roman Catholic church, whose tapers were lighted and bell tolling, along by the green lawn that forms a cricket-ground, bordered by the sea.

The Chinese are as supreme here in numbers as at Singapore. They were driving the patient white bullocks toiling along with the ox-cart, or more strange still, the huge grey buffalo guided by a ring passed through the nose; they were tailoring or tinkering in their open shops, and carrying on the trade of Penang in their bamboo baskets, slung across the shoulders. We saw many a picturesque bit of native life outside the mat hut: Klings or Madrassee women lounging about, with their nostrils pierced with bright gold coins, and wrapped in the thin strip of gauze.

We were driving along a beautiful road, where the palm-trees and cocoa-nuts arched overhead, and it was most delicious and enjoyable in the cool morning air. Arrived at the bottom of the hill, the promised chairs and coolies were nowhere to be seen, and we felt rather blank for a few minutes, until we determined to walk to the Waterfall.

We wandered along a shady path passing between the decayed pillars of a former gateway. In a neighbouring cocoa grove some natives were laying out the bare ground for a garden. The Waterfall is the celebrated beauty of Penang, and when we only saw some streams of water trickling down the side of a mountain between the jungle, we were greatly disappointed.

Our chairs and coolies were waiting for us on our return, the leaders being distinguished by their white vests. The coolie proper wears nothing but the sarong folded like a short petticoat, and caught up in front in the belt when walking. It is to be noted that these natives, who consider so little ordinary clothing necessary, invariably have the head covered by a heavy turban or cap. We got into the chairs, and six coolies prepared to carry us up the hill: two in front "tandem" between the shafts, which they support by a bamboo pole slung between their shoulders, and two in the same manner behind; one walked on either side to steady the chair. The motion is so easy and pleasant, and the coolies swing along at a great pace, though not attempting to keep step. We enjoyed a very charming two hours, being carried round the zigzags of the hill, in the midst of jungle that might be called virgin jungle, so tropical and dense was the vegetation. It was an ideal of the Indian life we read about—the early morning, the jungle, and the coolies! Sometimes the coolies would accomplish one of the steep gradients by a sudden run, but at all times they worked patiently along, perspiring from every pore, and some of them blowing lustily.

It was becoming very hot as we reached the top of the hill, and we found that Colonel Dunlop was not staying at the Government, but at the Convalescent Bungalow, a little further on. Here on the verandah he welcomed us, with Mr. Justice Wood, an old Westminster; Major Coffee, in command of the detachment of the Inniskillen Fusiliers, stationed at Penang; and Mr. Maxwell, another of Sir Benson's sons. Mr. Maxwell is Commissioner of Lands, and was recently sent over to Acheen to arrange for the release of the Nisero crew.

Jaded officials and business men from Singapore and Penang come up 2000 feet to one of these bungalows on the Hill, and recruit amid the perfect stillness and beautiful monotony of life up here. Beneath lies ever a most superb and glorious view of Penang on its peninsula, separated by an arm of the sea from the cocoa-nut groves and sugar-canes of Province Wellesley. Below and around them are hills of varying size, showing in places the poverty of the soil, but for the most part covered with jungle. The two islands in the sea look almost artificial, so unnaturally glassy is the water around them. In the garden at the back, where our coolies were sleeping in the blaze of the sun, after their struggle up the hill, we see a repetition of the view—the hills and the sea, but without Penang. In the centre of this garden a huge block of granite, on which trees and ferns are growing, raises its Druidical head. Some "Goth" the other day proposed to blast it away, for it destroys all prospect of lawn-tennis.

After "tiffin" we went for a stroll in the woods below the bungalow. In the jungle there we saw many new tropical specimens; the wild cocoa-nut palm, which bears no fruit; the monkey's cup, which is something like the slipper orchid, and contains in its dark red cup shut with a lid, a small quantity of water. A black rock, with a tree growing out of it, without any apparent hold for the roots, was marked with roller indentations, that seemed to indicate the glacier action of past ages. We also saw the atap, a creeper which is the dread of the jungle explorer: it throws out a shoot with thin, green leaves, resembling a straggling branch of palm, but when seen near there are three sharp little claws, which tear and cut pitilessly when brushed against. This jungle is full of monkeys, who sit chattering on the branches of the trees in the early morning and evening, but we saw none now, as they were resting during the midday heat.

On returning to the bungalow we had a feast of English newspapers, reading and resting in the verandah. Dr. Hampshire, the colonial surgeon, telephoned up from Penang an invitation to dinner that evening, which we accepted through the same medium. Remembering the shortness of the tropical twilight, we collected our troop of coolies around us about five o'clock, and walked a little way down, accompanied by the gentlemen, to see a magnificent view.

The descent in the cool of the evening was very pleasant, the coolies swinging down hill at a great pace, whilst the two supporters acted as drags round the steep corners. The road is splendidly made, with ridges to prevent the rain washing down the sand. The light did not last, and ere we reached the bottom of the hill we were wrapped in the gloom and great stillness of the forest.

Here a similar disaster to the non-appearance of the chairs in the morning awaited us. There was no gharry. The coolies, however, made signs to us to get into the chairs again, and that they would take us on, but only, as it turned out, to the first hotel. Here they rebelled, and refused to go further, and we were powerless to remonstrate, not speaking the language. The hotel was small and ill-looking, kept by a Chinaman, but we entered in the hope of finding some one who would understand us enough to send off for a gharry. It was quite dark, and Dr. Hampshire's house a long way off. Two German gentlemen were inside; they said there were no gharries to be had, but they volunteered to give us each a seat in the two traps that we had seen waiting outside, and to deposit us at our destination. It was a happy way for us out of our dilemma, and we were much indebted to our "friends in need, friends indeed."

We dined and spent a very pleasant evening, suffering from the heat of Penang after the cool air of the mountain. A gharry took us to the landing-pier, and so late as it was, we had no choice but to take a "sampan" to row across in the moonlight to the ship. The tide was running very strong, and the sampan is but a frail bark, propelled by the native standing up. We first narrowly escaped striking the rudder of the ship in coming round to the further side, and then the current swept us away from the gangway. However, we were landed safely on board by eleven o'clock, very tired after a day beginning at 5 a.m. Nevertheless we felt we had thoroughly enjoyed a very novel and pleasant New Year's Day.

Friday, January 2nd.—We went off with the captain in the ship's boat directly after breakfast, and were fortunate enough in finding an interpreter on the wharf. Malay is the current language of the Straits Settlements, among the variety of nationalities which gather in their towns. It is an easily learnt language, and from its soft, sweet accent is called the "Italian of the East."

Beach Street is very narrow and picturesque, gay with the wares displayed on counters in the street, and the motley crowd of variously coloured skins. I went with C. to the bank. The large, whitewashed room with the green cloth table in the centre, has not exactly the business-like look of our banks. All the cashiers are Chinese, who count out the heavy silver dollar pieces with great rapidity. The dollar here is worth three shillings and sixpence, but they suffer much in the Straits Settlements from having only twenty, fifteen, and ten cent. pieces, and no half-dollar.

It is strange to notice that wherever the dollar or a high monetary unit exists, there the necessaries of life become proportionately dear. It is so throughout America, and here in the Straits Settlements, especially at Singapore and Penang, which are very expensive places to live in. The officials are apt to complain that when apportioning their salaries Government did not make sufficient allowance for this. The favourite mode of payment, however, in the Straits is by "chits," or an I.O.U. You give the driver of your gharry a chit as much as you do your tradesman; and at the end of the month they employ a "chitty," who charges some small percentage to collect these chits.