"As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still look'd back
To that dear isle 'twas leaving."
ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN.--CEYLON.--SINGAPORE.--A
CRUISE IN THE STRAITS OF MALACCA.
September 21st.--Having, as it were, given the go-by to two continents,
we commence on an extended acquaintance with a third.
With sails spread to a S.W. monsoon we rapidly speed over that glorious
expanse of luminous sea where it is ever summer, and in whose pearly
depths living things innumerable revel in the very joy of existence.
Though hot, this part of the voyage is not unpleasant, for a cooling
breeze is constantly setting down the hatchways from the sails. What one
would rather be without, though, is that tropical tinting known as the
"prickly heat," which now begins to get troublesome; for, like boils,
its spots generally select those parts of the epidermis where they are
likely to become of the greatest nuisance, making the friction of
garments almost intolerable; but there, one can't have everything.
When the sails are trimmed with the same regularity day after day, with
never a tack nor sheet started, existence does not offer much of
variety, so that, like Columbus' sailors, we were glad to welcome even a
gale of wind. Now, a rolling and pitching ship is capital fun if you can
manage to stay the surgings of a revolutionary stomach; but it sometimes
happens that you can't, when, to vary a line in "In Memoriam," "you
heave responsive to the heaving deep." Then, too, we are as hungry as
"sea dogs." Ten or twelve days on sea rations are not to be envied,
especially as there is plenty of room for improvement in the dietary. It
is all very nice, nay, pleasant even, to feel hungry when there is a
prospect of a good "feed" in the tin dish; but how frequently do we find
a "southerly wind" prevailing in that receptacle for "panem;" and what
is there, I ask, in "Fanny Adams" alternated with "salt junk?" In the
one, nausea; in the other, mahogany.
Friday, October 14th.--Just at our breakfast hour we sighted that
oriental fairy garden, Ceylon's isle; and though we must be from fifteen
to twenty miles off, a curiously-constructed native vessel, with perhaps
a dozen persons on board, has just put out to welcome and pilot us to
land. A boat so different to all other boats that I must say a word
about it. It is a sort of double canoe, constructed of the hollowed out
trunk of a cocoanut tree, to which is attached a couple of outriggers,
with a second canoe-shaped structure at their extremities, but of lesser
dimensions than the boat proper, and differing from it, too, in not
being hollowed out--in fact the latter is used only as a balance for the
other. When it comes on to blow with any force, the Singalese boatmen
may be observed standing out on their outriggers, to counteract the
force of the wind on the high sails. The stronger the breeze the further
out the men go. Their mode of expressing the intensity of a breeze is
significant. The Singalese don't say as we do, it is blowing stiff, or
half a gale, or a gale; but that it is a "one-man wind," or "two," or
"three-man wind," as the case may be. I believe a similar idiom is used
by the natives of the Sandwich isles.
On nearing the land we could see how really delightful this ocean gem
is. One mass of gorgeous, perfumed foliage blazes suddenly on the sight
from the midst of the sea; feathery palms, broad trembling leaves, and
groves of lofty cocoanut trees springing from the midst of
richly-flowering shrubs.
From the inner harbour the view of Galle is very fine. For miles on
either hand stretches a palm-fringed shore, with the noble cocoanut
trees so close to the water's edge, that at times the sea seems to dash
right into their midst. Cocoanut trees, like volcanoes, seemingly prefer
the proximity of the sea to a more retired position.
The whole scene reminds one of the beautiful places visited by captain
Cook, in his voyages. Even the boats are laden with the self-same royal
fruits--great green cocoanuts, pine apples, bananas, plantains, and
yams.
All those curiosities for which India is famous--every conceivable
article which the fancy or ingenuity of man can possibly fabricate out
of such commodities, as sandal wood, ebony, ivory, and porcupines'
quills, richly and delicately carved, may be had here for a mere song if
you possess only patience. Amongst other things there is a brisk trade
carried on in precious stones. Some of the dealers in this article have
found their way to our lower deck, and proceed to pull little parcels,
containing sparkling and pellucid gems from their inner garments. There,
before us, in their downy nest, lie rubies, sapphires, opals, and many
more real or fictitious stones, seven-eighths of which are probably
manufactured at Birmingham, though Ceylon abounds in real gems. It may,
I think, be safely conceded that "Jack" very rarely drops in for one
such. The dealers ask most fabulous prices for their wares--so many
thousand rupees; but after haggling with you for about an hour or so are
glad enough to part with them at your own price--a proof, should you
need it, of the _genuineness_ of your purchase.
We are rather dubious at first about entering the canoes, for they are
so narrow as scarcely to admit of our broad hams being comfortably
stowed. However, by dint of a little lateral pressure in that quarter,
we at length manage to wedge ourselves in. We find the motion pleasant
enough--a sense of security growing with experience.
I suppose we are not the first, nor, unless some sudden calamity
undertake the place, are we likely to be the last, who have remarked how
exceeding annoying the "boys" at the landing-place are. Guides they call
themselves; sailors, in their excellently-terse and rotund way, call
them by another name, which certainly does not commence with a "G."
These wasps know just sufficient of English to make you disgusted with
your mother tongue. The ordinary and generally conclusive argument of
applying the toe of one's boot to the region of their quarter galleries
does not seem to be effective here. It is one of those things one has
to put up with.
The town follows the sinuous windings of the shore for upwards of a mile
and a half, under an arcade of cocoa palms, which forms one of the
finest promenades imaginable. Under this quivering canopy the fierce
rays of the outside sun filter through--a soft, sheeny, mellow
light--making his tropic rays deliciously cool, at the same time
imparting to them a mystic coloring of gold and emerald green in all
their wonderful combinations and capabilities of tone, impossible to set
down in writing.
A noticeable thing about all this wonderful profusion, is the number of
beautiful shrubs, principally spice or perfume bearing, and the grand
harmonies and contrasts of colour they present. Here, for example, is
the nutmeg, with its peach-like fruit; here the cinnamon, a tree whose
foliage embraces the most delicate gradations of colour, from olive
green to softest pink; there an aromatic gum tree, the dark-leaved
coffee tree, the invaluable bread fruit, and scores of others beyond my
botanical ken.
The houses, examined in detail, are not by any means the captivating
objects we took them to be from the ship; and they certainly don't
improve on a closer acquaintance. The air in the vicinity is thick and
heavy, with a rancid odour of cocoanut oil, emanating from the hair and
bodies of the local humanity. Their dwellings are constructed of humble
enough materials, in all conscience; for of the four sides, three are of
mud, the fourth being left open for the purposes usually supplied by
doors, windows, and chimneys amongst ourselves. A sort of blind of
cocoanut-fibre covers this aperture to about half way, so that one can
easily see what is going on within. Near the door reclines an indolent,
almost nude man, in the most convenient attitude for sleep; in the far
corner his wife or slave--for the names are synonymous--toiling and
moiling at a stone mill--a gaunt, angular, ugly woman, with great rings
in her nose and ears, and on her wrists and ankles. Perfectly nude
children and mangy-looking curs have all the rest of the apartment to
themselves; and from the way in which they are enjoying their gambols,
one may judge that for them life is not an unpleasant thing on the
whole. The number of brown imps scattered about the streets, threatening
to upset your every movement, speaks highly of the prolificness of
Singalese matrons; and if a numerous progeny is a desirable thing, then
these mammas ought to consider themselves blessed amongst women. Their
general aspect, though, conveys the opposite impression.
Everybody is addicted to the vice of chewing the betel-nut, a proceeding
which has the effect of dyeing the teeth and lips a brilliant crimson,
and gives to this people the appearance of an universal bleeding at the
mouth.
Having completed a hasty perambulation of the town we drive boldly into
the undergrowth to where a strange-looking building lies half-buried in
the foliage. It proves to be a Buddhist temple, an octagonal-shaped
structure with a bell-like roof. As we enter within its precincts, boy
priests are particularly careful to obliterate the marks of our
_heathen_ feet on their beautiful floor of golden sand. Inside are
eight figures of the good Buddha, alternately standing and sitting,
depicted with that calm, inscrutable countenance so remarkable in the
image of this deity wherever this religion prevails. Before each
figure is a small altar, littered with flowers, the most conspicuous
blossom being the lotus lily, the symbol of this faith. Other than
these devotional oblations there is little to be seen; what part in the
ceremonies the priests take, or where they perform their functions,
does not appear.
At the gate of the Court on our passing out, stands a bold, yellow-robed
priest, with a metal salver in his hand, suggestive of donations. We
told the old gent with naval bluntness that we were not in the habit of
aiding the Society for the propagation of paganism--a remark, by the
way, which it was as well, perhaps, he could not understand.
Sunday, October 6th.--Though sailors are excellent singers--especially
of hymn tunes--I never before heard a hymn rendered so effectively on
board a man-of-war as that beautiful composition by Bishop Heber,
commencing
"What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,"
and which was one of the appropriate hymns for our morning Service.
October 8th.--Towards evening we bade good-bye to this favoured land,
and stood away to the eastward. We had made good an offing, and set
everything aloft snug for the night, when heavy volumes of steam were
found to be issuing from the regions of the engine-room. A steam pipe
had burst, a fracture of so little moment that after a short delay to
effect repairs we were able to resume our voyage. But though the damage
was not serious, so far as the ship was concerned, to us, personally, it
was a matter of some consequence, on account of our bags and chests
being stowed immediately over the fractured pipe; and in order to secure
our property, we were compelled to make a blind rush for it,
re-appearing from our vapour bath, as red as boiled lobsters.
A splendid eight knot breeze brought us, after a few days, off Acheen
head, in Sumatra, and at the entrance of the Straits of Malacca. And
here, the monsoon which had favoured us over so many miles of the
pathless ocean, suddenly forsook us. Sails were of no further use, and
we braced up our sweat glands for four or five days of increasing heat.
In obedience to the demands of an imperious, ever-rising, thermometer,
we reduced our rig to the least possible articles consistent with
decency and the regulations of the Service--which latter, by the way,
discriminates not between the caloric of the north pole and that of the
equator.
Just at this time, we encountered a phenomenon of frequent occurrence
in this region, namely, water-spouts. One of these tremendous,
funnel-shaped, columns of water actually burst just ahead of us,
drenching our decks in showers of spray, and causing the water to
seethe and vex itself as though some monster were lashing it into fury.
October 18th.--The scene which presented itself to our eyes, as we
entered the narrow, gem-studded channel which leads up to Singapore was
such that I trust it may live long in my mind as a memory picture of
grateful and refreshing beauty. I don't know that it will compare with
the mighty growth of Ceylon's forests, or with the variety and richness
of its forms; but for mellowness of tint and harmonious blending of soft
foliage, Singapore's park-like views seem to me, as yet, unrivalled. The
channel is so narrow and its banks so high, that one is quite unprepared
for the splendour which suddenly, like the shifting lights in a
transformation scene, blazes out in all its tropic splendour. _Now_, the
scenes depicted in the "Arabian Nights" seem to me not so impossible
after all, and, except that gems don't grow on the trees, this fairy
garden might well have stood in the writer's mind as his ideal of
paradise.
Very reluctantly we turn away, as that grim reality, known as the
Tangong Pagar coaling wharf, heaves in sight, and alongside which we are
rapidly secured. Hundreds of coolies, in anticipation of our enormous
wants--500 tons of carbon--are already thronging the jetty with their
baskets of coal, which ere long, is rattling down our coal shoots.
The Malays, though labouring under the disadvantage of a bad reputation,
are a well developed, muscular race, of a dark, copper colour. Dress
does not trouble them much, for all that custom and society demand of
them in this respect is a couple of yards or so of white linen about
their lumbar region; the remainder of their sleek, oily bodies
presenting the appearance of polished bronze. They are great divers,
especially the youths and boys--I had almost said _infants_, for some of
the little mortals can scarcely have passed the sucking age. Their stock
of English is very limited: "Jack, I say jack, I dive," delivered all in
one mouthful and with no regard to punctuation, being about the extent
of their acquirements in our tongue.
Our first day at Singapore was marked by a sad termination. Emanuel
Dewdney, one of our boys, a weakly lad and far too delicate for the
rough life he had adopted, died of heat apoplexy in the afternoon.
Though Singapore lies so near the equator--within two degrees of it in
fact--it enjoys a very healthy, though, of course, a very hot climate.
The town itself is not very extensive. There is the usual native Malay
division with its system of mud architecture, its dirt and smells; and
that of the European residents--a marked contrast to the irregular
jumble of the other. I don't know that there is particularly much to see
in the island, except, perhaps, the Botanical Gardens, whose beauties
will amply repay you for the rather long walk to reach them. You may
take a coach if you like, but that will spoil the pleasure. In these
gardens all the choicest and rarest flora, and much of the fauna, of the
East Indies, are brought together and acclimatized. The most conspicuous
amongst the former, and certainly the most lovely--and that is saying
much where all excel--is a species of acacia, a large tree with great
flaming scarlet and yellow flowers. Then there is that extremely
interesting and singularly funny creeper, the sensitive plant, which, on
the approach of anybody, has the power of doubling up its leaves as if
in sudden fear. Birds in great variety--all scarlet, gold, and
azure--inhabit spacious aviaries within the grounds. Lyre birds, argus
pheasants, great eagles, and owls from Java, doves, pigeons, lories, and
humming birds, the metallic lustre of whose plumage flashes in the light
like the sheen of steel. One or two tigers--in a cage, of course--invite
our curiosity. I was not, however, prepared to make quite so close an
acquaintance with these lovely supple creatures, as one of the marines
of our party, who, having indulged too freely in malt, possibly mistook
the animals for cats, the result being he got so damaged about the bows
as to be rendered unfit for divisions the following morning, and barely
escaped with his eyesight. Drink makes a man do queer things.
The native men are very picturesquely apparelled in gaily coloured
turbans and sarongs, whilst the women,--tall, graceful, and
pretty--convey a small fortune about with them, in the shape of
jewellery, in the cartilage of the nose, in the ears, and around the
arms and legs. I saw one woman who had such heavy masses of gold in her
ears that the lobes of those organs touched her shoulders.
November 1st.--At 9 a.m. the long-expected "Audacious" hove in sight,
flying the flag of Admiral Hillyar at the main. How we already envy her
fortunate crew!
November 8th, off to Penang. The pipe "up anchor" this morning was
hailed with delight. Anything to change the dull monotony of the last
few weeks. We started with an overcast and rainy sky, and by the next
morning had reached Malacca, a small British settlement, essentially
Malay, more a village than a town. It lies very low and close to the
water's edge, the houses of the natives being all constructed on piles
driven into the mud, and embowered in a dense framework of cocoa palms.
In the distance rises the high cone-shaped peak of Ophir, now a lovely
sight because of the misty covering which envelopes it to near its
summit. Bananas are very plentiful; so, too, are monkeys and the canes
so highly prized at home.
November 9th.--To-day, our own admiral came in, in the mail steamer, and
glad are we that he has arrived, that we may be again on the move, for
you know there are happier states and more comfortable, than a forcible
detention in a red-hot ironclad.
Sunday, November 13th.--I see in my "journal" that I have noted what,
under ordinary conditions, would call for no remark, that a lady was
present at our service to-day. None but those who are banished the
softening and refreshing influence of woman's society can form any idea
how pleasant it is to see an English woman in this land of yellow
bellies and sable skins.
November 15th.--Now we are really the Flag Ship, for this morning the
"Audacious," with a parting cheer, bade us good-bye, and started for
home.
November 21st.--By early morning we discovered the island of Din Ding
right a-head.
Nothing can exceed the wonderful beauty of this tiny island. From the
sea it has so much the appearance of the bosky slopes of Mount Edgcumbe,
that, were it not for the characteristic palm, one could well imagine
one's self looking at a bit of our own dear England.
A stretch of sandy beach, white and glistening as silver, with the
graceful waving plumes of the cocoanut tree close to the water's edge,
and behind, the pile dwellings of the Malays, nestling at the foot of a
wooded eminence, capped to its very summit with a dense and varied
growth; such is the picture viewed from the anchorage. Din Ding, or Ding
Ding--as sailors, by a system of alliteration, very fashionable amongst
themselves--render it, lies at the mouth of the Perak river.
On landing we struck at once into the jungle, under tall palms, with
their great ripening fruit, and other tropic vegetation. Road, there was
none; only a sort of bridle path, very heavy with mud, and overgrown
with great hawser-like creepers, indicated a way along which we trudged.
Now and then the fallen trunk of a great tree barred our further
progress, or a chasm yawned before us, or mayhap, a great time-worn
boulder stopped the way; insignificant objects all when matelôts are on
the war trail. Our object was to reach a certain house on yonder point,
in which a most dastardly murder was recently perpetrated on the British
resident, Colonel Lloyd, who, with his wife and sister, had made this
their home. The house is now quite empty, but in one of the rooms we
saw, or fancied we saw, spots of sanguine dye on the floor.
We hastened onward through a small hamlet of about a dozen miserable
huts, resting on piles. Tubs of putrid fish, in all stages of
decomposition, gave out a most horrid stench, whilst other carcasses
strewed the ground in advanced rottenness. Is it not revolting, that
amongst these people, fish in its pure state is rarely eaten, and if it
be, it is always raw. But nature is ever lovely, though the human part
of her does all it can to deface her; if she were not so what a spoiled
world ours would be!
Holding our nostrils we ran for it, doubtful if we should ever get rid
of the smell. Further on was a hut of rather larger pretensions, now
used as a barrack for the police. One of these latter, who possessed a
tolerable knowledge of English, struck up a conversation with us, and
amongst indifferent topics we asked about the prisoners recently
captured. He certainly took us by surprise, when he indicated they were
within the building, alongside of which we were standing. Would we like
to see them? We would. Yes, true enough, there on the floor were five
Chinamen, lashed and bound so tight that the flesh stood out in great
purple ridges on either side the rope.
To get back to our boat we had to repass the village of odours
delectable. On this occasion the scantily clad and polished Malays, whom
we had not seen on passing through, put in an appearance.
By 4 p.m. the anchor was aweigh, and we heading towards Penang, which
was reached on the following day in the midst of thick, dirty weather.
The town is well built, and the cleanest I have yet seen since leaving
Europe. The island is sometimes termed the "Garden of the East," and if
it is always as now, I should say the name was justly bestowed. A little
way out in the country is a fine waterfall, which all who call here,
make a point of visiting. Jumping into a pony carriage, locally called a
_gharry_, a comfortable, well ventilated vehicle, capable of seating
four persons, we desire the turban driver to steer for the latter place.
Along the very fine road to the fall, a profusion of palms and gigantic
tree ferns, between thirty and forty feet high, up whose great stems
gaily flowered creepers wind their hawser-like fronds, make a delicious
and cooling shade. Yonder tree away there in the background, with
delicate pea-green leaves, is an old friend of ours. Let your memories
go back to your infancy. Cannot you recall many a wry face; cannot you
remember how unpleasant the after sensations when stern, but kind
mothers forced a nauseous decoction called "senna" down your
widely-gaping throat? You smile. I felt certain you had all experienced
it. Well that is the senna tree.
Large mansions lying back from the roadway, with gates and paths leading
up to their entrances, and a smell of new mown hay, were most home-like
and refreshing.
We should have fared much better had a more mutual understanding existed
between us and our pony. That obtuse little beast, good enough at curves
and tangents, after half an hour's canter, flatly refused to exert
himself above a walk; nor, though frequently encouraged by the whip, did
he accelerate his movements to the end of our drive.
At the fall we had a very refreshing shower bath under a thundering
cascade of water tumbling over the edge of a gorge. Near at hand, and
conveniently so, too, for the priesthood, is a small shrine sacred to
the Hindoo god Brahin, a diminutive edition of whom stands on a little
pedestal, amidst braziers, lamps, figures with elephants' heads and
human bodies, and other monstrosities. You may be certain there was a
mendicant priest in attendance on his godship.
On the return voyage our hack behaved even more ungentlemanly than
before, for now he most emphatically refused to budge an inch,
indicating his intention of becoming a fixture by planting his feet
obliquely, like a stubborn jackass, into the ground. Human nature could
scarcely be expected to tolerate such evidence of mutiny, so, jumping
into the first passing carriage, we reached the town at a fairly
creditable canter.
November 28th.--To-day our short stay at Penang comes to a conclusion,
and a few days afterwards we are once more at Singapore.