The Golden Chersonese And The Way Thither By Isabella L. Bird

























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LETTER XIV

The S.S. Rainbow - Sunset at Malacca - A Night at Sea - The Residency at
Klang - Our Next-of - Page 243
The Golden Chersonese And The Way Thither By Isabella L. Bird - Page 243 of 437 - First - Home

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LETTER XIV

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.

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