I tasted the nut, and
found it pungent and astringent, not tempting.
The Malays think you
look like a beast if you have white teeth.
The heat was exhausting; the mercury 87 degrees in the shade as early
as 8:30, and we all suffered, more or less, from it in our cramped
position and enforced inactivity. At nine, having been fourteen hours
on the river, we came on a small cleared space, from which a bronzed,
frank-faced man, dressed in white linen, hallooed to us jovially, and
we were soon warmly greeted by Captain Murray, the British Resident in
the State of Sungei Ujong. On seeing him, we hoped to find a gharrie
and to get some breakfast; and he helped us on shore, as if our hopes
were to be realized, and dragged us under the broiling sun to a long
shed, the quarters of a hundred Chinese coolies, who are making a road
through the jungle. We sat down on one of the long matted platforms,
which serve them for beds, and talked; but there was no hint of
breakfast; and we soon learned that the Malacca runner had not reached
the Residency at all, and that the note sent from Permatang Pasir,
which should have been delivered at 1 A.M., had not been received till
8 A.M., so that Captain Murray had not been able to arrange for our
transport, and had had barely time to ride down to meet us at such
"full speed," as a swampy and partially made road would allow. So our
dreams of breakfast ended in cups of stewed tea, given to us by a
half-naked Chinaman, and, to our chagrin, we had to go back to the boat
and be poled up the shallowing and narrowing river for four hours more,
getting on with difficulty, the boat-men constantly jumping into the
water to heave the boat off mud banks.
When we eventually landed at Nioto, a small village, Captain Murray
again met us, and we found a road; and two antiquated buggies, sent by
a Chinaman, with their component parts much lashed together with rope.
I charioteered one of these, with reins so short that I could only
reach them by sitting on the edge of the seat, and a whip so short that
I could not reach the pony with it. At a Chinese village some policemen
brought us cocoa-nut milk. After that, the pony could not, or would
not, go; and the Malay syce with difficulty got it along by dragging
it, and we had to walk up every hill in the fierce heat of a tropic
noon. At the large Chinese village of Rassa, a clever little Sumatra
pony met us; and after passing through some roughish clearings, on
which tapioca is being planted, we arrived here at 4 P.M., having
traveled sixty miles in thirty-three hours.
The Residency is on a steepish hill in the middle of an open valley,
partially cleared and much defaced by tin diggings. The Chinese town of
Serambang lies at the foot of the hill. The valley is nearly surrounded
by richly wooded hills, some of them fully three thousand feet high.
These, which stretch away to the northern State of Selangor, are bathed
in indigo and cobalt, slashed with white here and there, where cool
streams dash over forest-shaded ledges. The house consists of two
attap roofed bungalows, united by their upper verandas. Below there are
a garden of acclimatization and a lawn, on which the Resident instructs
the bright little daughter of the Datu Klana in lawn tennis. It was
very hot, but the afternoon airs were strong enough to lift the British
ensign out of its heavy folds and to rustle the graceful fronds of the
areca palms.
Food was the first necessity, then baths, then sleep, then dinner at
7:30, and then ten hours more sleep.
I. L. B.
LETTER XIII
The Appurtenances of Civilization - Babu - Characteristics of Captain
Murray - An Embodied Government - Chinese Mining Enterprise - A Chinese
Gaming-House - The "Capitans China" - New-Year Visits - Sittings "In
Equity" - A Court of Justice - The Serambang Prison - "Plantation
Hill" - A Monster Bonfire - An Ant World - An Ant Funeral - Night on
"Plantation Hill" - The Murder of Mr. Lloyd - A Chinese Dragon Play - A
Visit to a Malay Prince - The Datu Bandar's House - A Great
Temptation - The Return Journey - An Obituary Quotation
RESIDENCY, SUNGEI UJONG, January 30.
We have been here for four days. The heat is so great that it is
wonderful that one can walk about in the sunshine; but the nights,
though the mercury does not fall below 80 degrees, are cool and
refreshing, and the air and soil are both dry, though a hundred inches
of rain fall in the year. These wooden bungalows are hot, for the
attap roofs have no lining, but they are also airy. There is no-one but
myself at night in the one in which my room is, but this is nothing
after the solitude of the great, rambling Stadthaus. Since we came a
sentry has been on duty always, and a bull-dog is chained at the foot
of the ladder which leads to both bungalows. But there is really
nothing to fear from these "treacherous Malays." It is most curious to
see the appurtenances of civilization in the heart of a Malay jungle,
and all the more so because our long night journey up the Linggi makes
it seem more remote than it is. We are really only sixty miles from
Malacca.
The drawing-room has a good piano, and many tasteful ornaments, books,
and china - gifts from loving friends and relations in the far off
home - and is as livable as a bachelor would be likely to make it. There
is a billiard table in the corridor. The dining-room, which is reached
by going out of doors, with its red-tiled floor and walls of dark,
unpolished wood, is very pretty.
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