Colombo — Penano — Singapore — Opium Dens
On our return to Colombo we moved our belongings to the British India Hotel, which, though not outwardly so imposing as the Grand Oriental, is equally comfortable and certainly much quieter. A pleasant, old-fashioned rambling place we found it, combining with an airy situation an extensive view of the coast line and a close proximity to the city. Government House adjoins it on one side, the officers’ quarters of the barracks on the other, a row of dejected cocoa trees nod at each other across the way, and under their shade beggars of all kinds and descriptions sit continually.
One disagreeable fact met us at the railway station, and came home with us to stay. That was the reminder that we were running short of money.
Our voyage from Australia had cost us nearly twenty pounds, our hotel expenses in Colombo and visit to Anuradhapura another ten, consequently, we were left with many thousand miles still to overcome, and only 17l. 16s, 8?d. on which to overcome them.
The situation was a disagreeable one in every way, but it had to be faced, and the best way to face it was to set about something at once. Sitting on a bench upon the Galleface, watching the great southern rollers come booming in, we thought the question steadily out, and at length, after much argument, decided it to our satisfaction. The die was cast, and as it eventually proved, our luck had triumphed.
The rest of the day was devoted to browsing among the shipping in the harbour, in search of a boat that would take us further east. Several were boarded, but all in vain: they were either not going our way, or they gave palpable evidence that they required no extra assistance. Thoroughly disgusted with the mercantile marine of England, we had to give it up and turn shorewards. As we approached the landing-place, sounds of strife reached our ears. Pulling in to see what the fun might be, we found a crowd of boatmen shrieking and gesticulating round a short thick-set Englishman (a good deal the worse for liquor), in whom we recognised the chief officer of the only steam-boat we had not visited that afternoon. The Long’un was panting for a struggle, but I was for understanding matters first ‘Hold on,’ I said; ‘if he can’t savey the lingo, this business may be just into our hands.’
Once alongside, we leaped ashore and elbowed our way through the crowd to the Englishman’s side. Hemmed in as he was, he could neither advance nor retreat, and the more he endeavoured to appease his persecutors the more persistent they became.
The dialogue (everyone speaking at once, boatmen, relatives and friends) was conducted somewhat as follows:
‘Sah! you havee boat — my boat, sah!’ (flood of native Billingsgate); ‘you keepee two hours five minute, sah!’ (more abuse in the vernacular). ‘Now you say two rupee, sah!’ (general chorus of disgust) ‘No, sah!’
Englishman (face the colour of a Sturt pea, suppressing an intense desire to strike). ‘You double dashed, blanked, longshore, black lubbers. Speak English, and I’ll talk to you I’
Boatman. ‘My boat, sah! my boat, sah! I row you “Fiji Monarch “ — den Trincomalee boat, den mail-boat, sah! You big drunk, sah, you no under stand. Now you say two rupee, sail! (spits emphatically). No, sah!’
Redoubled chorus of disapproval as we step in.
The Inevitable (assuming his blandest manner). ‘Excuse me, but can we be of service to you?’
Englishman. ‘Thankee; much obliged, I’m sure.
I can’t savey their damned lingo, and don’t know what they want of me.’
The Inevitable. ‘First tell me what they have done for you.’
Englishman. ‘Took me from my boat over yonder, “The Lass of Burmah,” to the “Fiji Monarch,” then to the Trincomalee boat, then to the mail-boat, and back here.’
The Inevitable. ‘How long did it take you?’
Englishman (rather hazily), ‘Couldn’t say; not more than an hour any way.’
The Inevitable. ‘Leave it to us; we’ll see you through. Start and push your way out into the street.’ (Slips an anna into a small boy’s hand and whispers, ‘Call three rickshaws.’)
Traitorous small boy slips away. Crowd clamours louder and louder.
Once in the street the Englishman and Long’un mount their rickshaws, and the Inevitable proceeds to address the crowd.
‘My friends, it is useless to make trouble; you know very well you’re trying it on. Your legal fare is one rupee! ’
The Leader of the Gang. ‘Three rupee, sah! that Sahib big drunk.’
The Inevitable (taking money from his pocket), ‘Three rupees. Very well. Give me back the one the Sahib gave you.’
The proper fare is unsuspectingly returned and pocketed, then, mounting his rickshaw, he continues his oration.
‘People of an alien race, let this be a lesson to you. When your fare is tendered, have the wit to keep it. Abandon extortion, live righteously, and all may yet be well with you. Pray for me!’ (To the rickshaw coolies:) ‘Now boys! “The British India” as hard as you can scoot.’
The boys bound forward and the rickshaws are flying up the street before the crowd properly realises the situation.
Then they start in pursuit, clamouring and shrieking like souls possessed. But we have a good start and reach the hotel in time to dismiss our coolies before they appear round the corner. Discovering where we have run to earth, they set up a dismal wailing, which eventually brings out the manager, with abuse and a cane. Finally they are induced to disperse, in all probability to regret not having been satisfied with their legal fare.
Once inside, our friend effusively expresses his gratitude, and consents to take supper with us, eventually remaining the night. By bed-time he is in full possession of our difficulty, and to show his gratitude, has definitely promised us an opportunity of working our way to Singapore aboard his boat. She is to sail on New Year’s Day, and it will behove us to be on board as early as possible on that morning. In the meantime we may celebrate the birth of the New Tear, secure in the fact that our immediate future is provided for.
In consideration of the festive season, and in order that we might not feel the pangs of home-sickness too strong upon us, Providence sent us a baker’s dozen of young tea-planters to see us through. They arrived fresh from their plantations on the morning of New Year’s Eve. Many of them had not seen civilisation since the same time last year. In ages they varied from eighteen to thirty, but in temperament and desires they seemed peculiarly the same.
Their main ambition seemed to be to make as much noise as possible, consume as much mixed liquor as they had room for, and see as much of each other and the world in general, as time and money would permit. We all dined together, and after-wards held an impromptu concert, at which many of the ladies resident in the hotel assisted. When they (the ladies) had retired, we (the male population) kept the fun going with great spirit until within five minutes of the birth of the New Year, when, adjourning to the ladies’ windows, we serenaded them with ‘Home, sweet Home,’ and ‘God save the Queen,’ with considerable fervour. Rickshaw racing in the moonlight followed, and after that —— but there, over the rest of the night we had better draw a kindly blank!
Next morning we had paid our bill, and were aboard our boat before the town clocks had struck six. We found her a powerful, paintless old tramp, of less than 2,000 tons burden, and engined up to 250 nominal horse power; she was heavily laden for Hong Kong via Penang and Singapore, and she carried a mixed crew, with Seedee boy stokers.
Having taken the precaution to make our appearance in old working clothes, we attracted no attention, and when we had interviewed our friend the chief officer, we were told to go forrard and report ourselves to the bo’sun.
Ten minutes later, coaling over, the barges were shoving off, and we, barefooted, and grimy as sweeps, Were being initialed into the mysteries of washing down.
Shortly after noon we got under way and steamed out of the harbour, not sorry, in spite of our enjoyable stay in Ceylon, to be once more upon our journey. Outside the breakwater a brisk sea met us and gave us a hearty welcome back to the bosom of Father Ocean. There was a thoroughness about it that we could both appreciate.
I must own that I have travelled in more comfortable places than a ship’s fo’c’s’le, and also that I have met with better food than biscuit and salt horse, but I doubt if, despite these minor drawbacks, it would be possible to find a healthier and jollier life than Jack’s. We were given as much work as we could get through, and during our watches below were too tired to think much about our surroundings. At any rate, before we had been many days at sea we were not only quite accustomed to it, but heartily enjoying the experience.
Fortunately, the whole way across the Sea of Bengal we had splendid weather. The old tramp proved herself a fair sea-boat, and our companions forrard, with two exceptions, were as jolly a set as you’d find anywhere.
Five days after leaving Colombo we sighted the coast of Achin (Sumatra) — low lying on the.starboard bow; and by the same token, that night I saw the grandest exhibition of phosphorised sea it has ever been my good fortune to behold. From the swiftly sliding water alongside, to the distant shore, lying like a black smudge under the. starlight, the whole ocean appeared a mass of glittering light. Forrard the boat seemed to be eating her way through diamond-spangled cotton wool, while aft, her wake had all the appearance of a road of burnished silver. A small boat, pounding along a couple of miles to port of us, looked to be churning up an acre of electric flame, and so still was the night that the grating of her ash lift came quite distinctly across the intervening stretch of water. It was altogether a night to be remembered.
Early in the first dog watch of the seventh day, we sighted the approach to Singapore, and by the time the cuddy bell had rung for breakfast had stemmed round the island and brought up alongside the wharf.
From a distance, the P. & O. Wharf at Singapore is a place of singular beauty.’ One enters it to the north of a small island, a bold piece of colouring, crowned with a wealth of tropical vegetation, the vivid green, of which harmonises artistically with the terra-cotta coloured cliffs, the quaintly tiled roofs of the wharf buildings, and the bungalows dotted’ among the palms on the hill-side. I believe in the Malay tongue Singapore is called ‘the Lion City,’ while in Hindustanee it means ‘A place of meeting.’ Without doubt, the latter name more; aptly describes it.
The harbour was crowded with shipping: gunboats, dingy English and foreign tramps, French, Chinese, and Dutch mail-boats, sampans, prahus, yachts, all mixed up with coal barges and mosquito-like steam launches. They were sea gipsies, every one of them, with tales of their own to tell of the mysteries of the mighty deep.
After breakfast, having completed all the work required of us, we changed our apparel, bade our shipmates and our benefactor, the chief officer, ‘goodbye,’ and stepped ashore once more to seek our fortunes.
In our youth, an unappreciated study of geography taught us that Singapore is a British possession, situated close upon the equatorial line: a fact which, before we had been long ashore, was thoroughly borne in upon us. It was first cousin, yet a different heat, to Colombo, a muggier and much more disagreeable temperature.
A thing which is calculated to strike the new comer with surprise is the tremendous preponderance of the Chinese element in this city. Numbering I believe something like half a million, these heathens fairly swarm over everything, and their own particular quarter, with its sights and smells, is a place to see once and never to venture near again.
There are many other peculiarities about Singapore, and among them is the frequency with which the name of Raffles is met with. It pervades everything. There is Raffles Street, Raffles Court, Raffles House, Raffles Road, Raffles Library, Raffles Hair-cutting Saloon, and I am given to understand, even Raffles Pudding. The name is derived from a certain Sir Stamford Raffles, who, fifty odd years ago, was a shining, light in the Straits, Settlements. Originally, appointed Governor of Java, which post he held for six years, he was required by the English Government to hand back the Island, with all that appertained thereto, improvements included, to its. original conquerors the Dutch. This he did, as history . relates, with no good grace, being one of those far-sighted individuals who could see no. wisdom in giving up this priceless treasure to such a nation.
From Batavia Raffles came north to what was then the small Malayan fishing village of Singapore. Here he started on his own account, foreseeing that by its geographical position at the entrance to the Straits of Malacca and the China Sea, Singapore must speedily become a place of great importance. Having buried the first Lady Raffles in Java, he married, for his second wife, the daughter of the Sultan of Johore, and on the land he obtained, with her the present settlement was built. Without doubt it is one of the most important of our British possessions in the East.
It was too hot to walk up to the town,, so, calling rickshaws, we ascended in luxury. The Chinaman who dragged us was a fine specimen of his race,’ broad shouldered,, strong limbed, a perfect beast of burden. He wore no clothing save a loin cloth, and a peculiar, dishcover-shaped hat. The idea is generally entertained that the Malays do all the rickshaw business. On the contrary the Malay does not drag rickshaws, nor does he do anything else in the way of work; he prefers loafing. Give him a warm spot to sit in, an inexhaustible amount of betel-nut to chew, someone to talk to, and he’ll scratch himself, spit, swap lies, and be as happy as the day is long. When he does do anything that isn’t for himself alone, he accompanies it with as much grumbling and ill humour as he can manage to squeeze into the time the operation takes him. That is the Malay character all over.
When he has no other way of making himself objectionable, he runs amuck: in other words, he works himself into such a passion that he goes clean 6ff his head, and charges headlong down the most crowded streets, stabbing with his creese (a tiny dagger about six inches long) at everybody within his reach. Under these circumstances it is permissible to shoot him — that’ is, if you have time to stay and see about it. If you haven’t, you go up a lamp or verandah post, and tell other people what they should do, and what you would do if you hadn’t promised your maiden aunt never to shed blood.
The approach to the town from the P. & O. Wharf is peculiar; a jungle-clad hill rises on the left, while squashy paddi fields and a general air of dampness suggestive of cholera, fever, and ague, occupy the right and most of the lower ground.
On the hill-side, nestling among luxuriant masses of cocoa, areca, and sugar palms, we catch glimpses of charming bungalows. The foliage is simply exquisite, and here and there we renew acquaintance with the Licuale palm, peculiar to the Malay Peninsula, which in its dried state forms that unpleasant instrument of torture known to our youth as the Penang lawyer.
Arriving on the outskirts of the to’wn we begin to understand something of what lies before us. Though evidences of Western civilisation confront us on either hand, in the shape of steam tramways, street name-plates, and legible inscriptions setting, forth the nearest roads to the police station, the native quarter of Singapore has a . distinctiveness quite its own. Hundreds of rickshaws crowd the narrow streets, Chinese and Malay merchants, clerks, coolies, and porters, with itinerant vendors of edibles, jostle each other with small Ceremony. As in Colbitnbo, every Eastern nation is represented, for, besides the Chinese and Malayan population, Hindoos, Cinghalese, Siamese, Arabs, Japanese, Manilla men, and natives from all parts of the Eastern Archipelago, make this their common meeting place. Chinese cook-shops, on whose counters are displayed, in appetising profusion, roast dog, rat, cat, etc. etc.; vie with pottery sellers, fan-tan hells, and licensed opium dens. Through the doors of the latter glimpses can now and again be obtained of the sodden soulless wretches within.
In the open streets barbers and perruquiers, perform their trades; heads are shaved, pig-tails combed, plaited or adorned, according to the taste or fancy of the patient sitter, while among all, yellow-skinned . Chinese and Malayan babies roll, tumble, and play, regardless of the stream of traffic around them.
Another thing which strikes outsiders as peculiar, is the fact that each district has its own police service. In one quarter we meet the stately Sikh, clad in Khaki uniform, idling his way along, apparently inattentive, but at the same time all regardful of the life around him. Further on we find the merry little Ghoorka, and further still the stately English Robert. It is no uncommon thing to meet in the Chinese quarter a Sikh leading to the lock-up half a dozen unwilling Chinamen, whose pigtails, for convenience sake, he has tied together, and the ends of which he holds in his hand. He doesn’t seem to mind the inconvenience half as much as the Chinamen, and somehow they’re not very much concerned about it either.
With the consciousness of a depleted purse never absent from us, we kept our eyes open for an hotel where we might find cheapness, if possible combined with a certain amount of cleanliness. In search of this our coolie toiled up one street and down another, till at length almost in the heart of the native quarter, our eyes were attracted to a sign which seemed to hint that we had at last arrived at the description of place we wanted. We went in to inquire. The interior was certainly not in keeping with the gorgeous pretentiousness of the signboard. The landlord was a Portuguese of more than usually villanous type, and his wife, who at the time of our arrival was suffering from a swollen jaw, which fortunately prevented her from indulging in her usual conversation, was presumably of the same nationality. As the rooms were moderately clean (this was about all that could be said for them), we wasted no time, but entered into negotiations, and decided to try it, trusting that Providence would not allow us to be robbed or murdered. It was our intention to see as much native life as we could during our stay; after that to endeavour to secure another boat, and again work our way onwards.
Life in Singapore varies very little from life in India and Ceylon, if one substitutes the Malay servant for the Hindoo and Cinghalese, which is saying a good deal. The bungalows, the means of locomotion, the heat, the mosquitos, and in a measure the perfume of the streets, are the same. The only difference is that Singapore has all their undesirable qualities in the most complicated and aggravated forms.
We soon discovered that our hotel was famous for many things. During the time we were there it was remarkable for being the rendezvous of every white loafer in the settlement. These gentry, doubtless for reasons of their own, did hot show up very much in the day-time, but as soon as night fell, they crept out of every disused dog kennel in the neighbourhood to make our caravanserai their meeting place. Then for a space of six hours they drank, smoked a brand of tobacco the reek of which blistered the wall paper, perjured and profaned themselves, till the house fairly rocked under the strain. Not unfrequently they quarrelled, and on one occasion knives were drawn; but their patron saint never seemed to allow any of them to be killed, probably for fear of having to take charge of them elsewhere.
One night we were permitted the privilege of exploring a Chinese opium den in full blast of business. The man who conducted us was a low-caste Englishman, who, from his own account (and I believe him, for he hadn’t energy enough to lie about it), had lived in the slums of Singapore for well-nigh ten years. How he had managed to support himself during that time we could not discover, but one thing at least is certain, he did no work. His affability was his one redeeming feature, and on the consideration entered into before we set out — namely, that we should pay all expenses and stand him two drinks when we returned — he agreed to pilot us through the lowest parts of the town. On our side we stipulated that if any murders were to be committed, houses burned, or eccentricities of a similar kind indulged in, we should not be expected to participate beyond collecting our witness fees at the inquest afterwards. Having failed in an attempt to extort an additional two of Scotch cold, he said we had better set out.
It was a close, sultry evening, with a lot of rumbling thunder about. Everything we touched was clammy, and it needed almost painful exertion to raise one’s voice above a whisper. Up to that time I had entertained a sort of lingering idea that our hotel was not situated in any too reputable a neighbourhood, but before we had gone a hundred yards I discovered that it was a sort of Belgrave Square compared with that through which our guide was leading us. In a dim half conscious spirit of precaution, I endeavoured to keep tally of the streets through which we passed, but, after innumerable twistings and turnings, down Malay Street, up Pekin Street, through Canton, Calcutta, and Madras Streets, into Johore Street (these directions must not be taken as an authentic logbook of our route), my brain began to reel, and I resolved simply to trust to luck to find our way back, should we be unfortunate enough to lose our guide. This, indeed, was not unlikely, for every street was crowded to its utmost holding capacity. The bazaars of Singapore at night are things which should be taken in homoeopathic doses — one experience will last a life-time.
Passing down a narrow street or alley, into which the accumulated filth of centuries seemed to have found its way, we paused before a narrow door, upon which our guide knocked in a peculiar fashion. In the interval of waiting he condescended to inform us that we were about to enter one of the worst dens in the city, worse perhaps from the fact that it was illicit — that is, unlicensed by the Government. Hence the precaution taken in admitting us.
Twice or thrice our companion repeated his signals without any apparent notice being taken. Then suddenly a small shutter in the door slid back, and a ray of light fell on us. The scrutiny was evidently not of a satisfactory nature, for the shutter closed again, and a muttered conversation ensued within. After a minute the door swung open, and we were bidden enter. We found ourselves in a narrow passage, barely three feet wide, littered with filthy garbage, and smelling abominably. Down this passage we picked our way, until we brought up on the threshold of a long low room, the ceiling of which was coated out of all recognition by the blackened smoke of years.
Round the walls ran three tiers of bunks for the accommodation of smokers, and each bunk was several degrees filthier than the room. As far as we could judge from a cursory glance, it contained about ten or a dozen persons, three-fourths of whom were lolling in their bunks, either smoking or asleep. Three of the smokers were females, the rest males of all nationalities and ages. A Chinaman who, judging from appearances, could certainly not have seen less than a hundred summers, was evidently the ruling spirit of the place. He it was who admitted us, and even among the gang with whom he had to deal, his word ruled as law. The atmosphere was like pea-soup, and was momentarily getting thicker, but the denser it became the more the other occupants of the room seemed to enjoy it.
At this juncture our guide, philosopher, and friend became anxious to try a pipe, but this we were disinclined to permit for obvious reasons; nor were we tempted to indulge ourselves, though the intense enjoyment and supreme content manifested by those who did, certainly seemed to indicate an amount of pleasure, the opportunity for the enjoyment of which it would be folly to let slip. Sometimes an almost perfect stillness reigned in the room, broken only by the heavy stertorous breathing of the sleepers; then a smoker would lay down his pipe with a sodden grunt of satisfaction, and compose himself for the blissful dreams. One man lying in a bunk near us irresistibly attracted my attention. He was, without doubt, a European, and, if I might hazard the guess, an Englishman; possibly he might have once been a gentleman, for his white face had a look of refinement about it utterly at variance with his surroundings.
In an undertone I questioned our companion regarding him. He shrugged his shoulders with a laugh, and said scornfully, ‘Him? Oh! he’s one of ti8 Englishmen: had a University education, they say; not much use to him now, is it?’
Poor devil! If his mother could only have seen him as I saw him then, sleeping the hopeless sleep of the Black Smoke, what would she have felt? After a little while he woke, and for a few moments lay still, his eyes opening and shutting as the remaining fumes of the drug played across his brain. Then he began to move about, and finally he dragged himself out of his bunk on to his feet. Gazing round the room with a bewildered expression, his eyes fell upon us. Never, if I live to be a hundred, shall I forget the piteous look which spread across his features; it told its own story better than any words. But let us draw the curtain: we had seen enough. The rest of the night .was spent in wandering through places that were revelations — places of even the recollection of which I should almost like to rid my memory.
There are slums and slums — Little Bourke Street, Melbourne; Whitechapel, London; Port Said; Calcutta; China Town, San Francisco; and Singapore: each has a reputation of its own, but surely for unadulterated misery and vice, unaccompanied by any redeeming feature whatsoever, it would be difficult to match the last named. There is a peculiar, undefinable repulsiveness about the native quarter of Singapore which baffles description. It must be seen to be appreciated.
When we reached our hotel again, daylight was not far distant; life was returning to the city. Our guide received his reward, and we turned in to sleep away, if possible, the thoughts engendered by our awful sightseeing.
That afternoon we were fortunate enough to hear of a boat sailing the following day for British North Borneo, via the Island of Labuan. Borneo being a country we particularly desired to see, we trudged away to the wharf, and having found the vessel in question, proceeded on board and introduced ourselves to the chief officer, who as good fortune had it, chanced to be a most agreeable and sympathetic Englishman. Having heard our story, he professed himself glad to help us, said he was in want of hands, and most willingly offered us passages to the capital of British North Borneo and back, provided we would work our way. This we gladly consented to do, and accordingly next morning, having settled our bill, we once more embarked, glad, if only for a little while, to say ‘goodbye’ to stifling Singapore.