Tales of the Malayan Coast Part 19

The gorgeous aide stared in poorly concealed wonderment, when he entered to conduct us to the grand salon, at my plain evening dress suit, dest.i.tute of gold lace or decorations, but he was too polite to say anything, and I humbly followed my uniformed colleagues through the long suite of rooms. It would have been useless for me to have tried to explain the great American doctrine of "Jeffersonian simplicity." He would have shrugged his narrow shoulders, which would have meant, "When you are among Romans, you should do as Romans do."

In the grand salon, more than in any other part of the palace, one feels that he is in the home of an Oriental prince whose tastes far outrun his own dominions.

Velvet carpets from Holland, divans from Turkey, rugs from Bokhara, tapestries from Persia, and lace from France mingle with embroideries from China, cut gla.s.s from England, and rare old Satsuma ware from j.a.pan. On a grand square German piano is a ma.s.s of music in which the masterpieces of all countries have equal rights with the national anthem of Joh.o.r.e.

Going directly through a ma.s.s of Oriental drapery, we are in the throne-room, where are gathered the n.o.bility of the little Sultanate.

Amid the crash of music and the booming of guns the Sultan took his seat in one of the gilded chairs on the dais, with the English Governor on his left. Ranged about the burnished walls of the great room, several files deep, were the n.o.bility of the kingdom, the ministers of state, and officers of the army and navy, the s.p.a.ce back of them being filled with Chinese mandarins and towkoys, and rich native merchants in their picturesque costumes. In front of the n.o.bility, standing in the form of a square, were the sons of the datos each bearing golden, jewel-studded chogans, spears, krises, and maces. Inside the square stood the fifteen consuls. Back of the throne were four young princes, two bearing each the golden bejewelled kris of the Malay, another the golden sword of state, and the fourth the cimeter of the Prophet.

Up to the steps of the throne came the young prince, dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of artillery, with the royal order of Darjah Krabat ablaze with jewels on his breast. He was slightly taller than his father, the Sultan, straight, graceful, and handsome, with big, brown eyes and strongly marked features. He was nervous and agitated, and his lips trembled as he bent on one knee and kissed his Highness's hand.

Above our heads in the gilded walls, behind a grated opening, were Inche Kitega, the Sultan's beautiful Circa.s.sian wife, and the women of the court. We could see their black eyes as they peered curiously down. It was only when the Dato Mentri, or Prime Minister, stood up and asked his people if they wished the young Tunku to be their future lord that we could hear their shrill voices mingling with the "Suku, suku" ("We wish it, we wish it"), of the men.

It is only the wives of the n.o.bles that are secluded in the istana isaras, or women palaces, according to Mohammedan law; the women of the poor are as free as the more civilized countries of Europe. They bask in the sun with their brown babies on their laps, or wander among the cocoanuts that always surround their palm-thatched homes, happy and contented, with no thought for the morrow. The trees furnish them their food, and a few hours before their looms of dark kamooning wood each week keep them supplied with their one article of dress--the sarong. They never heard of the Bible, but they are very religious, and at sunrise and sunset, at the deep-toned boom of the hollow log that hangs before their little thatched mosques, they fall on their faces and pray to "Allah, the All Merciful and Loving Kind."

When the Crown Prince had stepped modestly back among his brothers and cousins, a holy man in green robes and turban came forward and read an address in Arabic. He recited the glories of the Prophet, the promises of the Koran, and then told of the ancient greatness of Joh.o.r.e,--how it once ruled the great peninsula that forever points like a lean, disjointed finger down into the heart of the greatest archipelago of the world,--how its ruler was looked up to and made treaties with, by the kings of Europe,--of the coming of the thieving Portuguese and the brutal Dutch,--of the dark, b.l.o.o.d.y years when the deposed descendants of the once proud Emperors of Joh.o.r.e turned to piracy,--of the new days that commenced when that great Englishman, Sir Stamford Raffles, founded Singapore,--down to the glorious reign of the present just ruler, Abubaker.

Our eyes wandered from time to time out through the cool marble courts and tried vainly to pierce the botanic chaos that crowded close up to the palace grounds. Banian and sacred waringhan trees covered great stretches of ground, and dropped their fantastic roots into the steaming earth like living stalact.i.tes. The fan-shaped, water-h.o.a.rding traveller's palm formed a background for the brilliant magenta-colored bougainvillea. The dim, translucent depths of an orchid-house lured us on, or a great pond covered with the sacred lotus, blue lilies, and the flush-colored cups of the superb Victoria regia commanded our admiration. Palms, flowering shrubs, ferns, and creepers rioted on all sides. Monkeys swung above in the ropelike tendrils of the rubber-vines, and spotted deer gamboled beneath the shade of mango trees.

The brilliant audience listened with bated breath to the dramatic recital of their nation's story. Even we, who did not understand a word, were impressed by their flushed faces and eager attention, and when the band in the columned corridors beyond broke forth into the national anthem of Joh.o.r.e and the vast concourse outside took up the shouts of fealty that began within, I, for one, felt an almost irresistible desire to join in the shouts and do honor to the kindly old Sultan and his graceful son.

After his Highness, the Sultan, had spoken, through the mouth of his Prime Minister, to the n.o.bles, and commended his son to their care, we crowded forward and congratulated him in the names of our respective countries.

We filed through the grand salon, with its luxurious medley of divans, tapestries, and rugs, through a great hall whose walls were hung with heroic-sized paintings of the English royal family, down a flight of steps, across the marble reception room, and into the open doors of the royal dining room.

From its polished ceiling of black billion wood hung great white punkahs, which half-nude Indians on the outside kept gently swaying back and forth.

In the centre of the vast table stood a golden urn filled with delicate maidenhair ferns and dragon orchids. Against a great plate-gla.s.s mirror, at the far end, rested ma.s.sive salvers of gold, engraven with the arms of Joh.o.r.e, and in its flawless depths shone the jewels that decked the entering throng and the splendid service of plate that dazzled our eyes.

Around his Highness's throat was a collar of diamonds and on his hands and in the decorations that covered his breast were diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, of almost priceless value. Each b.u.t.ton of his coat and low-cut vest was a diamond, and from the front of his rimless cap waved a plume of diamonds. On his wrists were heavy gold bracelets of Malayan workmans.h.i.+p, and his fingers were cramped with almost priceless rings. In his b.u.t.tonhole blazed a diamond orchid. The handle and scabbard of his sword were a solid ma.s.s of precious stones. Altogether this little known Oriental potentate possessed $10,000,000 worth of diamonds, the second largest collection on earth.

In personal appearance his Highness compared favorably with the best representatives of the Anglo-Saxon race. He was five feet eight in height, well built, with clean-cut, kindly features, in color nearer the Spanish type than the Indian. His hands and feet were small, forehead high and full, lips thin, and nose aquiline, his hair and mustache iron gray. He spoke good English, and was able to converse in French and German. In every-day dress he affected the English Prince Albert suit, to which he added a narrow silk sarong and a rimless black cap.

Besides being a lover of jewels, his Highness was a lover of good horseflesh and of yachts. His stud comprised two hundred horses, among which were fleet Arabians, st.u.r.dy little Deli ponies, thoroughbred Australians, and Indian galloways. Twice a year he offered a cup at the Singapore jockey races, and entered a half dozen of his best runners. At his tent on the grounds he dispensed champagne, ices, and cakes, and his native band of thirty pieces played alternately with the regimental band from the English barracks.

His three hundred ton steam-launch was built on the Clyde. Besides the Sultan's saloon on the lower deck, which was furnished befitting a king, there were cabins for ten people. The promenade deck was under an awning, and was furnished with a heavy rosewood dining-table and long chairs. She carried four guns of long range.

The revenue of Joh.o.r.e amounts to six million dollars a year, to which the Sultan's private property in Singapore adds nearly a half million more. The bulk of the national revenue is raised from opium, spirits, and gambling. The scheme of taxation is simple, but most effective. Any Chinaman who has a longing for the pipe pays into his Highness's treasury one dollar a month, and is granted a permit to buy and smoke opium; another monthly dollar and he is licensed to drink.

The gambling privilege is given to the highest bidder, and he has the monopoly for the kingdom. There is also a small export tax on gambier and tin. On the other hand, any immigrant that wishes to settle and open a farm of any kind is given all the ground he can work, rent free, to have and to hold as long as he keeps it under cultivation. Should he leave, it reverts with all its improvements to the crown.

The government is autocratic, but tempered and kept in sympathy with the English ideas of justice as seen in the great colonies that surround it.

The dinner throughout was European, save for the one national dish, curry. Every Malay, from the poorest fisherman along the mangrove-fretted lagoon to the chef of his Highness's kitchen, justly boasts of the excellence of his curry and the number of sambuls he can make.

First came a golden bowl filled with rice, as white and as light as snow; then another, in which was a gravy of yellow curry powder, choice bits of fowl, and plump, fresh slices of egg-plant. Then came the sambuls, or condiments, more than forty varieties, in little circular dishes of j.a.panese ware on big silver trays. There were fish-roes, ginger, and dried fish, or "Bombay duck," duck's eggs hashed with spices, chutney, peppers, grated cocoanut, anchovies, browned crumbs, chicken livers, fried bananas, barley sprouts, onions, and many more, that were mixed and stirred into the spongy rice until your taste was baffled and your senses bewildered.

We knew that the curry was coming, so we pa.s.sed courses that were as expensive and rare in this equatorial land as the fruit of the durians would be in New York,--mutton from Shanghai, turkey from Siam, beef from Australia, and oysters from far up the river Maur. We felt that besides being a pleasure to ourselves it was a compliment to our royal host to partake generously of his national dish.

"This service," said the old Tuan Hakim, or chief justice, pointing to the gold plate off which we were dining, "is the famous Ellinborough plate that once belonged to that strange woman, Lady Ellinborough. His Highness attended the auction of her things in Scotland. Do you see the little Arabic character on the rim of each? It is the late Sultana's name. His Highness telegraphed to her for the money to pay for it, and she telegraphed back two hundred thousand dollars, with the request that her name be engraved on each. Then she presented them to her husband. The Sultana was very rich in her own right, and left the Sultan over two million dollars when she died."

Throughout the long dinner the native band played the airs of Europe and America, intermixed with bits of weird Malayan song. After we had lighted our cigars from the golden censer, the British Governor arose and proposed the health of the Sultan and the young heir apparent. His Highness raised his gla.s.s of pineapple juice to his lips in acknowledgment, and said smilingly to me as the Prime Minister said the magic word that stirs every Englishman's heart,--

"The Queen!"

"Your people think all Orientals very bad."

I protested.

"Oh, yes, you do; that is why you send so many missionaries among us. But," he went on pleasantly, "look around my table. Not one of my court has touched the wine. A Mohammedan never drinks. Can you say as much for your people?"

Then he raised his gla.s.s once more to his lips and said quietly, while his eyes twinkled at my confusion:--

"Tell your great President that Abubaker, Sultan of Joh.o.r.e, drank his health in simple pineapple juice."

As the sun sank behind the misty dome of Mount Pulei we embarked once more at the broad palace steps in the royal barges, amid the booming of guns and the strains of the international "G.o.d Save the Queen,"

"My Country, 'tis of Thee," and bared our heads to the royal standard of Joh.o.r.e that floated so proudly above the palace, thankful for this short peep into the heart of an Oriental court.

So the young Prince received the crown from the hands of his father. To-day, the bones of that grand old statesman, the Sultan of Joh.o.r.e, rest beside those of his royal fathers within the shadow of the mosque.

In 1819 when Sir Stamford Raffles purchased the island on which Singapore now stands from the father of the late Sultan of Joh.o.r.e, the royal palace was a palm-thatched bungalow, the country an unbroken jungle, and the inhabitants pirates and fishermen by turns; the notorious Strait of Malacca was infested with long, keen, swift pirate praus, and the snake-like kris menaced the merchant marine of the world.

The advancement of the United States has not been more rapid since that date than the advancement of Joh.o.r.e. The attap istana, or palace, has given place to a series of palaces that rival those of many a much better-known country; the jungle has given place to plantations of gambier, tea, coffee, and pepper; the few elephant tracks and forest paths, to a network of macadamized roads and projected railways; and the native praus, to English-built barks and deeply laden cargo steamers.

Two hundred thousand hard-working, money-making Chinese have been added to the thirty-five thousand Malay aborigines, and the revenue of this remnant of an empire is far greater than was the revenue of the original state.

It remains to be seen whether the young Sultan will follow in the footsteps of his father and preserve to Joh.o.r.e the distinction of being, with the one exception of Siam, the only independent native kingdom in southern Asia. One misstep and he will become but a dependency of the great British Empire, a king only in name.

IN THE GOLDEN CHERSONESE

A Peep at the City of Singapore

Could an American boy, like a prince in the Arabian Nights, be taken by a genie from his warm bed in San Francisco or New York and awakened in the centre of Raffles Square, in Singapore, I will wager that he would be sadly puzzled to even give the name of the continent on which he had alighted.

Neither the buildings, the people, or the vehicles would aid him in the least to decide.

Enclosing the four sides of the little banian-tree shaded park in which he stands are rows of brick, white-faced, high-jointed go-downs. Through their gla.s.sless windows great white punkahs swing back and forth with a ceaseless regularity. Standing outside of each window, a tall, graceful punkah-wallah tugs at a rattan withe, his naked limbs s.h.i.+ning like polished ebony in the fierce glare of the Malayan sun.

For a moment, perhaps, the boy thinks himself in India, possibly at Simla, for he has read some of Rudyard Kipling's stories.

Back under the portico-like verandas, whose narrow breadths take the place of sidewalks, are little booths that look like bay windows turned inside out. On the floor of each sits a Turk, cross-legged, or an Arab, surrounded by a heterogeneous a.s.sortment of wares, fez caps, bra.s.s finger-bowls, a praying rug, a few boxes of j.a.panese tooth-picks, some rare little bottles of Arab essence, a betel-nut box, and a half dozen piles of big copper cents, for all shopkeepers are money-changers.