on the mainland, Singapore rapidly outdistanced the older
settlements of Malacca and Penang; until, in 1867, after a period
of dependence on India, the whole region started a separate
existence as a Crown Colony, under the name of the Straits
Settlements, with Singapore as the capital. The reason for the
rapid development of this obscure island is evident on the map. (2)
It commands the Straits of Malacca and the southern entrance
of the China Sea; the only alternative is the Strait of Sunda,
beyond the Equator, five hundred miles to the southward. It is
the halfway house between India and China, and its position at a
corner makes it the junction point of all the routes connecting
the Indian Ocean with the Pacific. It is also the natural
collecting and distributing centre for much of the local trade of
the Malay region. As a consequence, an island less than twice the
size of the Isle of Wight, and with no resources of its own worth
mentioning, has become the site of one of the greatest seaports
in the world.
Singapore is not only a junction of trade routes and a strongly
garrisoned naval base, it is also a meeting point of different
races. The population is a strange mixture of Chinese, Malays
and Indians, with a handful of Europeans controlling the whole
mass. The Chinese, in numbers, industry and wealth, have been
the most important factor in the growth of the whole region,
and their influence increases every year. The Malays approach
them in numbers, but lag far behind in intelligence and capacity
for work; while the Indian element, mainly Tamil coolies as in
Ceylon, is much smaller.
The town of Singapore stands on the south side of the island
facing the open sea, and the Old Port is not well adapted to the
needs of modern commerce; large vessels, as we see in this 7
picture, must anchor off shore in the roadstead and unload into
barges. The coast, where it has not been reclaimed, is low and
marshy, and the old wharves bear a look of neglect and decay.
But west of the Tanjong Pagar dock, now Government property, 8
is Keppel Harbour, a narrow deep-water channel, protected on the
seaward side by two small islands. Large steamers can moor at the
Tanjong Pagar wharves to take in coal or merchandise, and here we
find the mail boats, British, French, German and others; while
the old harbour and the mouth of the little Singapore river are
crowded with Chinese boats and boatmen, and with barges bringing
goods from the steamers in the roadstead. Here we have a view 9
of a corner of the wharves in the river.
Let us land and make our way towards the town. Commercial 10
Square and Raffles Square, with their shops and business offices,
are quite English in appearance, except for the waiting rickshas
and the dress of the natives. Then we see the cathedral and 11
the cricket ground, which lies on part of the reclaimed
foreshore, with the Raffles monument in the middle. In another
direction are Chinese shops and a Chinese open-air theatre with
the crowd gathered round it in spite of the rain. They are
used to rain in Singapore. We pass a Chinese temple, and more
shops, and then on the outskirts of the town we may light on
the suburban villa of a wealthy Chinese merchant, standing 12
in its own beautiful grounds. The Chinese are proud of their
gardens, and the owner willingly shows us round. Here is a lake
in the garden with the magnificent Victoria Regia water-lily 13
growing in it. Everywhere in Singapore the architecture and the
people of the East and West are blended in a strange mixture.
In the hilly country, outside the city, there is nothing of very
special interest for us. As we are close to the Equator and
have heat all the year round, with a heavy rainfall, almost any
tropical product can be grown on the island; the Chinese make a
speciality of the cultivation of pineapples, which are tinned and
exported. Here we have a scene in the factory. We need not 14
explore the country, but a visit to the botanical gardens will
not be a waste of time, as it will tell us a great deal about the
Malay region in general. In one corner of the gardens is a 15
large collection of palms; we have seen already what an important
place the trees of this group have in the life of the tropics,
and we shall meet them often again. Of even greater interest,
perhaps, from the European point of view, is rubber. Here we find
the Government conducting experiments to discover the kind of
trees most suited to the various districts, and the best methods
of cultivation and preparation; we shall see some of the results
of these experiments on the mainland of the Peninsula which we
are now going to visit.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 79._
SINGAPORE: THE RIVER.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 85._
MALAYS ON PLANTATION.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 87._
PALACE OF THE SULTAN OF KELANTAN.]
We touched at Singapore first as it is by far the most important
of the Settlements: the oldest is Malacca, which in the time
of the Portuguese and Dutch occupation held the position which
Singapore holds to-day. Under modern conditions it has declined
in importance and ranks below both Singapore and Penang, though
the railway and the rubber industry are now giving new life 16
to this old-world settlement. Here is a glimpse of the river 17
and here a street in the town; it is picturesque enough, but we
miss the life and bustle which we have seen at Singapore.
The island of Penang, together with the strip of the mainland
opposite, was leased by us from the Sultan of Kedah, over a
hundred years ago, at a time when the rest of the coast was more
or less under the influence of the Dutch. The rent is still paid
regularly to the Sultan for the time being. In 1824, we came
to an agreement with the Dutch who withdrew all claim to the
Straits, while we left them undisturbed in the island region
further south. This withdrawal of the Dutch, and the possession
of Singapore, gave us the entire control of the Straits of
Malacca. Since that time there have been some small additions
to the area of British territory, but our chief work has been
to bring the native States within our Sphere of Influence. The
result in the last century, as we have already seen, was the
formation of the Federated Malay States, governed by their native
rulers with the advice and assistance of British officials. A
British Civil Service, with native and Indian police, and a
regiment of Indian soldiers, under British officers, assist in
the work of administering the Federation. It is an interesting
experiment, crowned by complete success, in the application of
Western ideas and methods of organization to a semi-civilized
people; and a similar system is gradually being introduced into
the other Protected States. Here is a group of these native 18
rulers and British officials, representing the two sides of the
combined administration.
Though we read a great deal about piracy and misrule in the old
days, we must not think of the natives of Malaya as wholly given
over to barbarism. The States, just as in India, had their own
form of government and social organization, long before they
came under our influence. They had their courts, palaces and
public buildings. The palace of the Sultan of Selangor, which 19
we see here, reminds us strongly of some of the magnificent
buildings in India. Side by side with it a British Residency 20
in the neighbouring State of Pahang seems an insignificant hut;
but the hut represents efficiency in administration, while the
Sikh sentry who guards it stands for the law and order which we
have introduced.
[Illustration: MALAY PENINSULA: PHYSICAL.]
The past development and future prospects of the Peninsula 21
can only be understood in the light of its geography. It has a
great length of coastline, so that no part is very far from
the sea, while access to the coast is easy on the west. But a
mountain chain, stretching continuously from north to south,
though nearer the west coast than the east, forms a difficult
barrier between the States on either side, except in Johor, where
it spreads out and becomes lower. The rainfall is heavy all the
year round and the temperature rather like that of the palm house
at Kew Gardens. As a result of these conditions, forty years ago
the whole region of the lowland was a great jungle, with the
Malay inhabitants living in scattered villages and clearings
along the streams which offered the only means of movement.
Before we came there were no roads except the forest tracks 22
such as we see here, formed by wild animals and used mainly by
hunters. Now there are good roads all over the western side of
the Peninsula, with rest-houses at intervals, maintained by
Government for the benefit of travellers. These roads connect
the towns of the interior with the sea or with the lower reaches
of the rivers where they are navigable for large boats; while a
trunk road now runs over the mountains, linking the railway in
Selangor with Kuala Lipis on the Pahang river. Here we have 23
a scene on this road, with the old native bullock cart and the
modern motor-car side by side. We can imagine that travel will be
slow in these carts; and so it is; but off the road all movement
whatever is impossible. Besides the roads there is now the
completed trunk railway, running from Johor Bharu, where it (1)
connects by steam ferry with the short line in Singapore island,
right along the west of the Peninsula to the coast opposite
Penang. The railway, like the roads, has branches connecting
with ports on the coast, and on the east side a line is being
pushed forward into the State of Pahang; this will ultimately
pass through Kelantan and connect with the Siamese system. About
half-way along the trunk line, in the State of Selangor, is Kuala
Lumpur, the administrative centre of the Federated States.
When road and rail are not available, our sole resource is the
water, which has always been a vital element in Malay life. We
may travel in canoes of various kinds, and for long journeys
we may hire a roomy houseboat, such as we see here on the 24
Pahang river. If no boats are to be had, we may build a raft 25
of bamboo and on it drift down stream. Our journey will not be
without excitement, as there may be rapids to be negotiated, and
we must be careful where we bathe, as there are crocodiles 26
in plenty. Near the river mouths and along the coast we find
sailing boats, often of the junk type, which remind us of China;
and the larger ports have their coasting steamers, owned in some
cases by Chinese capitalists in Singapore.
Malaya, with its warmth, ample rainfall and many streams, is
naturally the land of the rice swamp and coconut palm. As
we travel southwards from Penang, the rice fields stretch
monotonously mile after mile over the flat lands between the
railway and the sea. These great levels do not make good 27
pictures, but here is one of them. The native in the foreground
is beckoning eastern fashion, with the hand pointed downwards.
The ditch beside him is an irrigation channel. The water is
impounded in rough reservoirs on the valley slopes and allowed to
flow down to these channels; sometimes, too, it is raised from a
lower level by a primitive water wheel, with bamboo tubes fixed
on its rim as buckets. Experience has made the native skilful in
irrigation work of this kind.
The rice field, the coconut palm and the river provide the Malay
with an easy living, supplemented in the past by the proceeds of
occasional piracy. He was not likely to be industrious so long
as his property was liable to be seized at any moment by his
rulers or their deputies. The Malay, as we find him all over the
East India Islands, will hunt, fish, sail a boat or fight with
considerable energy and skill, but he takes ordinary life in an
easy fashion. He has no desire for the business of money-making
and prefers to live in his simple fashion in his own homestead or
_kampong_. Let us look at some of these native houses. They are 28
all raised above the ground on piles, and usually have a kind
of verandah on one side; the interior is dark, as the native 29
is not fond of windows. We notice the bamboo and the coconut
palm near every house and shall probably come on the stream not
very far away. This is the real Malaya: the aspect of the towns
is very different. Here we find streets of houses and shops, but
these are largely given up to the natives of India or China,
as we may guess from the signboards in the picture before us. 30
Here, on the other hand, we see the typical Malay, in his 31
national costume, the bright coloured _sarong_ or petticoat
which is worn both by men and women, with a light jacket of 32
some kind to complete the dress. The Malays are Mohammedans,
though not perhaps of a very rigid type. Here we see the new 33
mosque at Kuala Lumpur, fit to stand side by side with a palace;
but the simple thatched or tiled buildings which we find 34
everywhere in the villages seem to agree better with our pictures
of ordinary Malay life.
Though the Malay is largely occupied in agriculture, yet he
has taken only a small share in the most important of recent
movements, the artificial cultivation of rubber. All along the
railway, outside the rice swamps, we find our view shut in by the
tall trees of the forest. Here is a glimpse where the forest 35
has been thinned out a little, and here again is a corner 36
of the jungle showing the dense growth of fern and creeper. The
constant rainfall and high temperature which give us the jungle
have been found to be well suited to the growth of the Brazilian
rubber tree. So here and there from the train we catch sight of a
great clearing, with perhaps the young rubber trees growing 37
amid the roots and fallen trunks of the older forest. Or 38
again we pass a plantation in a more advanced stage; and if we
pay the planter a visit we may see the coolies tapping the
trees by slicing the bark, and collecting the milky latex 39
which when coagulated and smoked becomes rubber as we know it.
The planter is English, perhaps from Ceylon; the coolies who 40
cluster round the bungalow to receive their pay are probably
Tamils from India, since the Malay, though useful in the rough
work of clearing to which he is accustomed, does not take readily
to the steady work of cultivation.
Clearing, planting and growing the trees is a slow process, and
the progress of Malaya would have been far from rapid if it had
been based on agriculture alone. The money needed for roads and
railways came from another source. When we intervened, we found
the Chinese coolie already in occupation, and a considerable
traffic in Chinese-owned vessels along the coast to Singapore.
The cause of this traffic was tin. Tin ore is everywhere in the
Peninsula, though it is mined chiefly in the alluvial areas at
the foot of the hills. Some of the mining is still very primitive
and is carried on by groups of Chinese who work with little
capital but manage to make a profit none the less. But in many
places modern machinery has been introduced; the steam pump has
replaced the chain and bucket of the Chinese, while hydraulic
sluicing and other up-to-date methods of mining are becoming 41
common. We often come on a whole valley, looking like a huge 42
quarry, turned upside down and desolated in the search for tin.
Everywhere we notice the busy Chinese coolie, in his curious sun
hat, and in the distance we may catch sight of the barracks where
he lives. The ore is dug out and washed, and then for the most
part sent to Singapore to be smelted and reduced to the shape
in which it reaches our own country. Nearly half the world’s
supply of tin comes from this narrow strip of country; and we
may say that Malaya has been built up on tin, though now rubber
is rapidly overtaking it in value. The two together constitute
over nine-tenths of the total exports of the Federated States
and provide a large revenue for the Government to spend on
improvements.
The miner and artisan is nearly always a Chinese, so that at
the present time the Chinese in the Federated States actually
outnumber the natives. If we add the Indian coolies to the
Chinese, we find that out of a total population of about a
million, three-fifths are of foreign origin. This is how tin
and rubber are translated into terms of population. Outside
the Federated States we do not find the same proportions in
the population, though the geographical conditions are of much
the same kind. There is the same rice cultivation in the coast
plains; the same plantations of coconuts and rubber, though on a
smaller scale.
Trengganu has a considerable textile industry, while Kelantan
exports _sarongs_ to the neighbouring states. Tin also is
everywhere, and some gold; while Europeans are already mining,
prospecting and planting. The population of Kelantan is almost
entirely Malay, and the native element is stronger than the
Chinese all down the east coast. The whole region is rather more
primitive than the west side; the palace of the Sultan of 43
Kelantan, with its curious wooden palisade and guard of spearmen,
looks distinctly old-fashioned.
In short, eastern Malaya has been rather out of the world in the
past. The coast is difficult of access; the river mouths are
blocked with sandbars, and there is a continuous line of surf
in the months when the Northeast Monsoon is blowing. It lies,
too, out of the main track of shipping; so that we have a great
contrast to the sheltered waters of the Straits of Malacca, and
it is only natural that the country behind should be slower to
develop.
The most backward part is naturally the pathless jungle on
the mountains of the interior, which is still given up to 44
wild game and to the Sakai, naked savages living in rough
forest-shelters and armed with the blowpipe and poisoned dart.
These represent the lowest grade among the people of the
Peninsula. But development has begun in the east and the result
will be a change in the face of the country such as we have seen
in the west, brought about by the Chinese and Indians of the
mine and plantation, aided by European and Chinese capital, and
working under sound administration.
When we turn northwards from Singapore, on the way to China, we (2)
are entering a vast enclosed sea, cut off from the main Pacific
by a string of islands almost continuous for fifteen hundred
miles. In the northern part of this barrier there are a few
narrow passages; in the south the sea is shut in by the unbroken
barrier of the coast of Borneo. Some idea of the size of Borneo,
which is the largest island in the Malay Archipelago, can be
obtained if we compare it with our own islands, mapped on the 45
same scale. We shall find that Borneo can contain not only the
lands of the British Islands but a large part of the surrounding
seas and channels as well. The south and southeastern part of
this great island belongs to Holland, so that our visit will be
limited to the northern end; but even in this corner we find a
country as large as Ireland.
After a voyage of seven hundred miles across the southern end
of this enclosed sea, we are approaching the small island of
Labuan, which lies across the mouth of a broad inlet in the
larger island. In the latter part of our voyage we have sighted
land to the southeast, but this is not our destination, as it is
not British territory, though as regards foreign relations under
our protection. This land is the native state of Sarawak, which
is ruled autocratically by an Englishman, Sir Charles Brooke.
The origin of this State is one of the romances of the Pacific.
Seventy years ago James Brooke, uncle of the present ruler, made
a voyage through the South China Sea. He was specially attracted
by Borneo and saw that it might be wealthy and prosperous if only
it could be reclaimed from the misgovernment and barbarism of its
native rulers. The chance soon came to put his theories to the
test. Sarawak, then nominally part of the Sultanate of Brunei,
was in a state of rebellion, owing to the misrule of a local
chief. Brooke, with the crew of his yacht, helped the Rajah Muda,
Hassim, uncle of the Sultan of Brunei, to restore order; and as
a reward was made governor of Sarawak, in 1841. Thus the younger
son of an Indian Civil Servant became in a moment an Eastern
Potentate. Once established, Sir James Brooke, or Rajah Brooke as
he is better known to history, not only kept good order in his
own district but joined with the British navy in the suppression
of piracy in the neighbouring seas. As Brunei decayed, Sarawak
grew stronger. Its territory was enlarged from time to time and
its prosperity has proved the benefit derived by the native
inhabitants from strong and firm control.
An island rather larger than Guernsey, Labuan is the only British
territory, as opposed to a Protectorate, which we shall find
in this region. Rounding a headland we turn northwards into a
broad and deep inlet, and come to anchor opposite a small town
of white houses with red roofs and a background of low hills;
this is Victoria, the capital and only town. We may have time to
travel by the light railway to the coal mines at the other end
of the island, but we shall find nothing else to detain us, as
the country is mostly occupied by swamps and decayed villages.
The harbour and the coal: these two things explain why Labuan
is now a British Possession. Though it had been, for a short
time in the eighteenth century, a station of the East India
Company, it was unoccupied and seemingly of little value when
we acquired it from the Sultan of Brunei in 1846; but we looked
to its position on the flank of the great route to China, with
its excellent harbour and supplies of coal. It was thought by
some that the island would become a smaller Singapore, a port
of call for shipping and a collecting centre for the whole
mainland of Borneo. Labuan started with great expectations;
its history has been a series of disappointments. The coal
business failed from the first, while the transit trade did not
develop, and the reason is not far to seek. In spite of the
great natural resources of Borneo, there could be no progress in
trade until piracy and head-hunting had been suppressed and some
form of settled government introduced. Now that this has been
accomplished and the country is prospering and developing, the
mainland has its own seaports from which the goods are shipped
direct to Singapore or Hongkong, so that Labuan derives no
benefit.
Politically Labuan has had a varied career. In 1848, it was made
a Crown Colony, Sir James Brooke being the first Governor; later
it was handed over to the North Borneo Company to administer
for a time; and since 1907 it has been annexed to the Straits
Settlements. It has been eclipsed completely by its greater
neighbour.
If we cross the wide bay between the island and the mainland, we
shall get a glimpse of past history, and better appreciate the
reason for the failure of Labuan. At the southeast corner of the
bay we enter the Brunei river. The forest comes right down to
the river bank, and the trees appear to be growing in the water,
with a tangle of interlaced roots showing above the surface; we
are passing a swamp of mangroves, or _bakau_, as the natives call
the tree. Then the land begins to rise in low hills covered still
with forest, and the mangrove gives way to the coconut palm. We
pass native canoes with their double rows of paddles, and here
and there on the bank a group of native houses among the palms.
Finally we round a sharp bend in the river and come upon the 46
old native town of Brunei. It is a kind of eastern Venice,
with its houses built on piles driven into the mud, and its 47
streets all waterways. Here is one of these streets. In Brunei,
as all over Borneo, the bamboo, the palm and the creeping rattan
provide the builder with material free of charge for posts,
flooring, roofs and lashings--for the houses are tied, not nailed
together. There is fish in abundance in the river, and we pass
a fleet of market boats, with women in large sun hats, bringing 48
the catch for sale in the town; while in the forest all round
there is fruit to be had for the picking. Nature has supplied
the Malay with most of his necessaries at his very door.