The S.S. Rainbow--Sunset at Malacca--A Night at Sea--The Residency at
Klang--Our "Next-of-Kin"--The Decay of Klang--A Remarkable
Chinaman--Theatrical Magnificence--Misdeed of a "Rogue Elephant"--"A
Cobra! A Cobra!"
S.S. "RAINBOW," MALACCA ROADS, February 1, 5 P.M.
I am once again on board this quaint little Chinese steamer, which is
rolling on a lazy ground-swell on the heated, shallow sea. We were to
have sailed at four P.M., but mat-sailed boats, with cargoes of
Chinese, Malays, fowls, pine-apples, and sugar-cane, kept coming off
and delaying us. The little steamer has long ago submerged her
load-line, and is only about ten inches above the water, and still they
load, and still the mat-sailed boats and eight-paddled boats, with two
red-clothed men facing forward on each thwart, are disgorging men and
goods into the overladen craft. A hundred and thirty men, mostly
Chinese, with a sprinkling of Javanese and Malays, are huddled on the
little deck, with goats and buffaloes, and forty coops of fowls and
ducks; the fowls and ducks cackling and quacking, and the Chinese
clattering at the top of their voices--such a Babel!
An hour later, "Easy ahead," shouts the Portuguese-Malay captain, for
the Rainbow is only licensed for one hundred passengers, and the water
runs in at the scuppers as she rolls, but five of the mat-sailed boats
have hooked on. "Run ahead! full speed!" the captain shouts in
English; he dances with excitement, and screams in Malay; the Chinamen
are climbing up the stern, over the bulwarks, everywhere, fairly
boarding us; and with about a hundred and fifty souls on board, and not
a white man or a Christian among them, we steam away over the gaudy
water into the gaudy sunset, and beautiful, dreamy, tropical Malacca,
with its palm-fringed shores, and its colored streets, and Mount Ophir
with its golden history, and the stately Stadthaus, whose ancient rooms
have come to seem almost like my property, are passing into memories. A
gory ball drops suddenly from a gory sky into a flaming sea, and
"With one stride comes the dark."
There is no place for me except on this little bridge, on which the
captain and I have just had an excellent dinner, with hen-coops for
seats. These noisy fowls are now quiet in the darkness, but the noisier
Chinese are still bawling at the top of their voices. It is too dark
for another line.
British Residency, Klang Selangor.--You will not know where Klang is,
and I think you won't find it in any atlas or encyclopedia. Indeed, I
almost doubt whether you will find Selangor, the Malay State of which
Klang is, after a fashion, the capital. At present I can tell you very
little.
Selangor is bounded on the north by the "protected" State of Perak,
which became notorious in England a few years ago for a "little war,"
in which we inflicted a very heavy chastisement on the Malays for the
assassination of Mr. Birch, the British Resident. It has on its south
and southeast Sungei Ujong, Jelabu, and Pahang; but its boundaries in
these directions are ill-defined. The Strait of Malacca bounds it on
the west, and its coast-line is about a hundred and twenty miles long.
From its slightly vague interior boundary to the coast, it is supposed
to preserve a tolerably uniform depth of from fifty to sixty miles.
Klang is on the Klang river, in lat. 3 degrees 3' N., and long. 101
degrees 29' 30" E. I call it "the Capital after a fashion," because the
Resident and his myrmidons live here, and because vessels which draw
thirteen feet of water can go no higher; but the true capital, created
by the enterprise of Chinamen, is thirty-six miles farther inland, the
tin-mining settlement of Kwala Lumpor. Selangor thrives, if it does
thrive, which I greatly doubt, on tin and gutta; but Klang is a most
misthriven, decayed, dejected, miserable-looking place.* The nominal
ruler of Selangor is Sultan Abdul Samat, but he hybernates on a pension
at Langat, a long way off, and must be nearly obliterated, I think.
[*Kwala Lumpor is now the most important mining entrepot in Selangor,
and in 1880 the British Resident and his staff were removed thither.]
It is a great change from Malacca in every respect. I left it with
intense regret. Hospitality, kindness, most genial intercourse, and its
own semi-mediaeval and tropical fascinations, made it one of the
brightest among the many bright spots of my wanderings. Mr. Hayward
took me to the Rainbow in a six-oared boat, manned by six policemen,
completing the list of "Government facilities" as far as Malacca is
concerned. The mercury was 90 degrees in my little cabin or den, and it
swarmed not only with mosquitoes, but with cockroaches, which, in the
dim light, looked as large as mice. Of course, no one sleeps below in
the tropics who can avoid it; so as the deck was thick with Chinamen, I
had my mattress laid on a bench on the bridge, which was only occupied
by two Malay look-out men. There is not very much comfort when one
leaves the beaten tracks of travel, but any loss is far more than made
up for by the intense enjoyment.
It was a delightful night. The moon was only a hemisphere, yet I think
she gave more light than ours at the full. The night was so exquisite
that I was content to rest without sleeping; the Babel noises of fowls
and men had ceased, and there were only quiet sounds of rippling water,
and the occasional cry of a sea-bird as we slipped through the waveless
sea. When the moon set, the sky was wonderful with its tropic purple
and its pavement and dust of stars. I have become quite fond of the
Southern Cross, and don't wonder that the early navigators prostrated
themselves on deck when they first saw it. It is not an imposing
constellation, but it is on a part of the sky which is not crowded with
stars, and it always lies aslant and obvious. It has become to me as
much a friend as is the Plough of the northern regions.
At daybreak the next morning we were steaming up the Klang river, whose
low shores are entirely mangrove swamps, and when the sun was high and
hot we anchored in front of the village of Klang, where a large fort on
an eminence, with grass embankments in which guns are mounted, is the
first prominent object. Above this is a large wooden bungalow with an
attap roof, which is the British Residency. There was no air, and the
British ensign in front of the house hung limp on the flag-staff. Below
there is a village, with clusters of Chinese houses on the ground, and
Malay houses on stilts, standing singly, with one or two Government
offices bulking largely among them. A substantial flight of stone steps
leads from the river to a skeleton jetty with an attap roof, and near
it a number of attap-roofed boats were lying, loaded with slabs of tin
from the diggings in the interior, to be transhipped to Pinang. A
dainty steam-launch, the Abdulsamat, nominally the Sultan's yacht,
flying a large red and yellow flag, was also lying in the river.
Mr. Bloomfield Douglas, the Resident, a tall, vigorous, elderly man,
with white hair, a florid complexion, and a strong voice heard
everywhere in authoritative tones, met me with a four-oared boat, and a
buggy with a good Australian horse brought me here. From this house
there is a large but not a beautiful view of river windings, rolling
jungle, and blue hills. The lower part of the house, which is supported
on pillars, is mainly open, and is used for billiard-room, church,
lounging-room, afternoon tea-room, and audience-room; but I see nothing
of the friendly, easy-going to and fro of Chinese and Malays, which
was a pleasant feature of the Residency in Sungei Ujong. In fact, there
is here much of the appearance of an armed post amidst a hostile
population. In front of the Residency there is a six-pounder flanked by
two piles of shot. Behind it there is a guard-room, with racks of
rifles and bayonets for the Resident's body-guard of twelve men, and
quarters for the married soldiers, for soldiers they are, though they
are called policemen. A gong hangs in front of the porch on which to
sound the alarm, and a hundred men fully armed can turn out at five
minutes' notice.
The family consists of the Resident, his wife, a dignified and gracious
woman, with a sweet but plaintive expression of countenance, and an
afflicted daughter, on whom her mother attends with a loving, vigilant,
and ceaseless devotion of a most pathetic kind. The circle is completed
by a handsome black monkey tied to a post, and an ape which they call
an ouf, from the solitary monosyllable which it utters, but which I
believe to be the "agile gibbon," a creature so delicate that it has
never yet survived a voyage to England.
It is a beautiful creature. I could "put off" hours of time with it. It
walks on its hind legs with a curious human walk, hanging its long arms
down by its sides like B-----. It will walk quietly by your side like
another person. It has nice dark eyes, with well-formed lids like ours,
a good nose, a human mouth with very nice white teeth, and a very
pleasant cheery look when it smiles, but when its face is at rest the
expression is sad and wistful. It spends a good deal of its time in
swinging itself most energetically. It has very pretty fingers and
finger-nails. It looks fearfully near of kin to us, and yet the gulf is
measureless. It can climb anywhere, and take long leaps. This morning
it went into a house in which a cluster of bananas is hanging, leaped
up to the roof, and in no time had peeled two, which it ate very
neatly. It has not even a rudimentary tail. When it sits with its arms
folded it looks like a gentlemanly person in a close-fitting fur suit.
The village of Klang is not interesting. It looks like a place which
has "seen better days," and does not impress one favorably as regards
the prosperity of the State. Above it the river passes through rich
alluvial deposits, well adapted for sugar, rice, and other products of
low-lying tropical lands; but though land can be purchased on a system
of deferred payments for two dollars an acre, these lands are still
covered with primeval jungle. Steam-launches and flattish-bottomed
native boats go up the river eighteen miles farther to a village called
Damarsara, from which a good country road has been made to the great
Chinese village and tin mines of Kwala Lumpor. The man-eating tigers,
which almost until now infested the old jungle track, have been driven
back, and plantations of tobacco, tapioca, and rice have been started
along the road. On a single Chinese plantation, near Kwala Lumpor,
there are over two thousand acres of tapioca under cultivation, and the
enterprising Chinaman who owns it has imported European steam machinery
for converting the tapioca roots into the marketable article. Whatever
enterprise I hear of in the interior is always in the hands of
Chinamen. Klang looks as if an incubus oppressed it, and possibly the
Chinese are glad to be as far as possible from the seat of what
impresses me as a fussy Government. At all events, Klang, from whatever
cause, has a blighted look; and deserted houses rapidly falling into
decay, overgrown roads, fields choked with weeds, and an absence of
life and traffic in the melancholy streets, have a depressing
influence. The people are harassed by a vexatious and uncertain system
of fees and taxes, calculated to engender ill feeling, and things
connected with the administration seem somewhat "mixed."
You will be almost tired of the Chinese, but the more I see of them the
more I am impressed by them. These States, as well as Malacca, would be
jungles with a few rice clearings among them were it not for their
energy and industry. Actually the leading man, not only at Kwala
Lumpor (now the seat of government), but in Selangor, is Ah Loi, a
Chinaman! During the disturbances before we "advised" the State, the
Malays burned the town of Kwala Lumpor three times, and he rebuilt it,
and, in spite of many disasters stuck to it at the earnest request of
the native government. He has made long roads for the purpose of
connecting the most important of the tin mines with the town. His
countrymen place implicit confidence in him, and Mr. Syers, the
admirable superintendent of police, tells me that by his influence and
exertions he has so successfully secured peace and order in his town
and district that during many years not a single serious crime has been
committed. He employs on his estate--in mines, brickfields, and
plantations--over four thousand men. He has the largest tapioca estate
in the country and the best machinery. He has introduced the
manufacture of bricks, has provided the sick with an asylum, has been
loyal to British interests, has been a most successful administrator in
the populous district intrusted to him, and has dispensed justice to
the complete satisfaction of his countrymen. While he is the creator of
the commercial interests of Selangor, he is a man of large aims and of
an enlightened public spirit. Is there no decoration of St. Michael or
St. George in reserve for Ah Loi?* So far, however, from receiving any
suitable recognition of his services, it is certain that Ah Loi's
claims for compensation for losses, etc., have not yet been settled.
[*The months after my visit, Ah Loi received the Sultan of Selangor for
several days with great magnificence, and in July, 1880, he entertained
the Governor of the Straits Settlements and his suite with yet greater
splendor, erecting for the occasion a fine banqueting-hall with open
sides.]
Sir F. A. Weld writes of this visit--"At Kwala Lumpor, besides the
reception and a dinner at the Capitan China's, a Chinese theatrical
performance was given representing a sultan and great rajahs,
quarreling, but laying aside their quarrels on the appearance of a
'governor,' who pacifies the country. Addresses and odes were also sung
and recited to me from the stage, and the performers representing the
great personages prostrated themselves and made obeisances. The
dresses were all real hand-worked gold and silver embroidery on thick
silks of the richest colors. The princes were attended by their
warriors, some of whose helmets and arms were magnificent, with banners
and feather standards, and coats of arms, or their equivalents, borne
aloft by heralds; ladies also appeared, one a prima-donna, other
actresses rode hobby-horses, only the head of the woman and hobby-horse
being visible in the clouds of silk and gold. Jesters jested; and
tumblers, in blue, loose tunics and wide scarlet trousers, shot across
the stage when there was any room in front of the crowd of actors with
the rapidity of meteors. The pace was too great to be even sure that
they were human beings. I have seen Kean's Shakespearian revival
pageants formerly in London, but I never realized what a mediaeval
court pageant might have been till in the heart of the Malay Peninsula
I saw the most gorgeous combination of color and picturesque effect
that I have ever set eyes upon."]
Klang does not improve on further acquaintance. It looks as if half the
houses were empty, and certainly half the population is composed of
Government employes, chiefly police constables. There is no air of
business energy, and the queerly mixed population saunters with limp
movements; even the few Chinese look depressed, as if life were too
much for them. It looks too as if there were a need for holding down
the population (which I am sure there isn't), for in addition to the
fort and its barracks, military police stations are dotted about. A
jail, with a very high wall, is in the middle of the village. The
jungle comes so near to Klang that tigers and herds of elephants,
sometimes forty strong, have been seen within half a mile of it. In
Sungei Ujong there was some excitement about a "rogue elephant" (i.e.,
an elephant which for reasons which appear good to other elephants, has
been expelled from the herd, and has been made mad and savage by
solitude), which, after killing two men, has crossed the river into
Selangor, and is man-killing here. A few days ago a man catching sight
of him in the jungle took refuge in a tree, and the brute tore the tree
down with its trunk, and trampled the poor fellow to death, his
companion escaping during the process.
Yesterday evening we had service in the hall, the whole white
population being "rounded up" for it; seven men and two women, three of
whom are Roman Catholics. The congregation sat under one punkah and the
Resident under another, both being worked by bigoted Mohammedans!
Everything was "ship-shape," as becomes Mr. Douglas's antecedents; a
union jack over the desk, from which the liturgy was read, and a
tiger-skin over the tiles in front, the harmonium well played, the
singing and chanting excellent. We had one of the most beautiful of the
Ambrosian hymns, and possibly Dr. Bonar may like to hear that his hymn,
"I heard the voice of Jesus say," was sung with equal enjoyment by
Catholics and Protestants in the wilds of the Golden Chersonese.
There is an almost daily shower here, and it is lovely now, with a
balmy freshness in the air. No one could imagine that we are in the
torrid zone, and only 3 degrees from the equator. The mercury has not
been above 83 degrees since I came, and the sea and land breezes are
exquisitely delicious. I wish you could see a late afternoon here in
its full beauty, with palms against a golden sky, pink clouds, a pink
river, and a balm-breathing air, just strong enough to lift the heavy
scented flowers which make the evenings delicious. There has been a
respite from mosquitoes, and I am having a "real good time."
But I had a great fright yesterday (part of the "good time" though). I
was going into the garden when six armed policemen leapt past me as if
they had been shot, followed by Mr. Daly, the land-surveyor, who has
the V.C. for some brave deed, shouting "a cobra! a cobra!" and I saw a
hooded head above the plants, and then the form I most fear and loathe
twisting itself toward the house with frightful rapidity, every one
flying. I was up a ladder in no time, and the next moment one of the
policemen, plucking up courage, broke the reptile's back with the butt
of his rifle, and soon it was borne away, dead, by its tail. It was
over four feet long. They get about three a day at the fort.
There is a reward of 20 cents per foot for every venomous snake brought
in, 50 cents per foot for an alligator, and 25 dollars for every tiger.
Lately the police have got two specimens of an ophiophagus, a
snake-eating snake over eighteen feet long, whose bite they say is
certain death. They have a horrible collection of snakes alive, half
dead, dead, and preserved. There was a fright of a different kind late
at night, and the two made me so nervous that when the moonlight
glinted two or three times on the bayonet of the sentry, which I could
see from my bed, I thought it was a Malay going to murder the Resident,
against whom I fear there may be many a vendetta.