SINGAPORE.
I see that X. has it in his notes that the first view of this city is
the most beautiful in the East--does he mean the approach, the view, or
the city. It perhaps does not greatly matter, but it is certain that he
recorded the fact that to a poor jungle-wallah like himself it seemed
very vast and full of life, as he dressed himself and prepared to
re-enter the world from which he had so long been absent. A gharry--a
close carriage on four wheels with a dirty-looking driver and a tiny
pony--now conveyed, or rather set forth to convey, the traveller to the
hospitable house of a certain distinguished general who resides in
Singapore.
Singapore is a city in which it is notoriously difficult to find one's
way about, as all the roads seem alike--they are all excellent--and so
do the houses. Had I not undertaken to tell you how X. went to Java, I
should like to stop and relate how once on this account the writer
dined at the wrong house--and dined well--while his host, whose name he
never knew, preserved an exquisite _sang-froid_ and never showed
surprise; but such egotistic digressions might possibly annoy X. who has
a right to claim the first place in this little history.
The driver apparently knew where no one as an individual lived, and
entirely relied on strange local descriptions known only to the native
inhabitants, therefore it was vain for X. to try and explain where he
wanted to go. It transpired from interrogations of passers by that no
gharry driver or Malay policeman had heard of the General or even that
such a personage existed--X. never told the General that--and thus the
gharry containing X., and the two which followed with the suite and
luggage, drove backwards and forwards puzzling people as they went, for
such twistings and turnings argued ignorance of locality, and ignorance
of locality meant a globe-trotter, and yet no mail steamer was in, and,
again, no globe trotter would be followed by two Malays. And presently
he again endeavoured to explain where he wanted to go in forcible
Malay--this made the problem more difficult--till the passers by, mostly
cooks going to market, gave it up as one too deep, or perhaps too
trivial, for solution. The morning drive thus lasted till Europeans
early for office appeared in their smart buggies and fast trotting
horses, and one of these magnates of commerce coming to the rescue, it
was explained to the gharry syce that the Commander of all the Forces
occupied a house where Mr. So-and-so used to live, after the celebrated
Mr. So-and-so had sold off his racing stud and given up the
house--"didn't the driver remember?" "Yes, was not Omad the chief syce"
to the gentleman alluded to? At this the driver exclaimed, "of course,"
and whipping up his pony, with a withering look at his face, which
implied "if only he had had the sense to tell me that before," he drove
direct to one of the largest and most imposing mansions of the town.
Saved from the hotels of Singapore, where bewildered travellers grumble
and strange-looking jungle-wallahs come down to drink, X. felt all the
half-dormant memories of civilization return to him, as, passing the
sentry, he entered the spacious hall and received a kindly welcome from
his host.
Having, as the books say, removed the traces of his journey, no very
palpable ones in this case, since washing is practicable and customary
on board s.s. _Malacca_, X. joined his host at breakfast and was
informed of the programme of the day--consisting of an afternoon drive,
dining out in the evening, and thence to hear the regimental band play
by moonlight in the gardens. What a gay place Singapore seemed to X.,
who nightly dined alone, and to whom the sound of a band was a memory of
bygone days--and a band by moonlight too. Yes, that also had memories
all its own. On moonlight nights he is wont to sit on the verandah and
listen to the drowsy monotonous singing of the Malays who dwell in the
villages below his hill. Very agreeable is that chanting sound as it
ascends, telling of companionship and content, although for that very
reason making the solitary European feel more solitary still. Native
servants have given him his dinner and left him to seek their own
amusement. He is a duty only, something finished with and put away for
the night, left solitary upon the broad verandah, half envying the
natives who can enjoy the moonlight in the society of their friends.
Here in Singapore X. need envy no one, for was he not to go out after
dinner and hear a band in the moonlight, and a band played by Europeans?
The reality equalled expectation, for moonlight in the beautiful gardens
of Singapore, with the _elite_ of society sitting in their carriages or
strolling along the grass by the lake would have been a pleasant evening
even to people more _blasé_ than X., nor did that person enjoy it any
the less from catching sight of Usoof and Abu standing as lonely amongst
this mass of strangers as ever he was wont to feel when brooding in his
solitude at home, while they sang songs in the moonlight to their
friends.
The evening ended up with the glorious dissipation of supper at the
regimental mess. The immediate result of this outing was pleasure, the
subsequent one--probably the addition of another syllable to the
compound Greek word with which X.'s ailments had been identified.