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+Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Malayan Coast, by Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tales of the Malayan Coast
+       From Penang to the Philippines
+
+Author: Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+Release Date: January 12, 2009 [EBook #27784]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE MALAYAN COAST ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                   Tales of the Malayan Coast
+
+                 From Penang to the Philippines
+
+                               By
+
+                      Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+        Consul General of the United States at Hong Kong
+
+                  Illustrated by Henry Sandham
+
+
+                             Boston
+
+                   Lothrop Publishing Company
+
+
+
+
+                        Copyright, 1899,
+                               By
+
+                  Lothrop Publishing Company.
+
+                         Norwood Press
+              J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
+                      Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               To
+                            Our Hero
+                         And my friend
+                  Admiral George Dewey, U.S.N.
+                      I Dedicate this Book
+
+
+
+
+
+                                              Flagship Olympia,
+                                        Manila, 21 Sept., 1898.
+
+        My Dear Wildman:--
+
+        Yours of 12th instant is  at hand. I am much flattered by
+        your request to dedicate your book to me, and would be
+        pleased to have you do so.
+
+            With kindest regards, I am,
+                Very truly yours,
+
+                        George Dewey.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+These stories are the result of nine years' residence and experience
+on the Malayan coast--that land of romance and adventure which the
+ancients knew as the Golden Chersonesus, and which, in modern times,
+has been brought again into the atmosphere of valor and performance
+by Rajah Brooke of Sarawak, the hero of English expansion, and
+Admiral George Dewey of the Asiatic squadron, the hero of American
+achievement. The author, in his official duties as Special Commissioner
+of the United States for the Straits Settlement and Siam, and, later,
+as Consul General of the United States at Hong Kong, has mingled with
+and studied the diverse people of the Malayan coast, from the Sultan
+of Johore and Aguinaldo the Filipino to the lowest Eurasian and "China
+boy" of that wonderful Oriental land. These stories are based on his
+experiences afloat and ashore, and are offered to the American public
+at this time when all glimpses of the land that Columbus sailed to
+find are of especial interest to the modern possessors of the land
+he really did discover.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                     Page
+    Baboo's Good Tiger                                 9
+    Baboo's Pirates                                   28
+    How we Played Robinson Crusoe                     47
+    The Sarong                                        66
+    The Kris                                          74
+    The White Rajah of Borneo                         81
+    Amok!                                            101
+    Lepas's Revenge                                  130
+    King Solomon's Mines                             147
+    Busuk                                            181
+    A Crocodile Hunt                                 200
+    A New Year's Day in Malaya                       219
+    In the Burst of the Southwest Monsoon            230
+    A Pig Hunt on Mount Ophir                        254
+    In the Court of Johore                           270
+    In the Golden Chersonese                         293
+    A Fight with Illanum Pirates                     321
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TALES OF THE MALAYAN COAST
+FROM PENANG TO THE PHILIPPINES
+
+
+BABOO'S GOOD TIGER
+
+A Tale of the Malacca Jungle
+
+
+Aboo Din's first-born, Baboo, was only four years old when he had
+his famous adventure with the tiger he had found sleeping in the
+hot lallang grass within the distance of a child's voice from Aboo
+Din's bungalow.
+
+For a long time before that hardly a day had passed but Aboo-Din,
+who was our syce, or groom, and wore the American colors proudly on
+his right arm, came in from the servants' quarters with an anxious
+look on his kindly brown face and asked respectfully for the tuan
+(lord) or mem (lady).
+
+"What is it, Aboo Din?" the mistress would inquire, as visions of
+Baboo drowned in the great Shanghai jar, or of Baboo lying crushed
+by a boa among the yellow bamboos beyond the hedge, passed swiftly
+through her mind.
+
+"Mem see Baboo?" came the inevitable question.
+
+It was unnecessary to say more. At once Ah Minga, the "boy"; Zim, the
+cook; the kebuns (gardeners); the tukanayer (water-boy), and even the
+sleek Hindu dirzee, who sat sewing, dozing, and chewing betel-nut,
+on the shady side of the veranda, turned out with one accord and
+commenced a systematic search for the missing Baboo.
+
+Sometimes he was no farther off than the protecting screen of the
+"compound" hedge, or the cool, green shadows beneath the bungalow. But
+oftener the government Sikhs had to be appealed to, and Kampong Glam
+in Singapore searched from the great market to the courtyards of
+Sultan Ali. It was useless to whip him, for whippings seemed only
+to make Baboo grow. He would lisp serenely as Aboo Din took down
+the rattan withe from above the door, "Baboo baniak jahat!" (Baboo
+very bad!) and there was something so charmingly impersonal in all
+his mischief, that we came between his own brown body and the rod,
+time and again. There was nothing distinctive in Baboo's features or
+form. To the casual observer he might have been any one of a half-dozen
+of his playmates. Like them, he went about perfectly naked, his soft,
+brown skin shining like polished rosewood in the fierce Malayan sun.
+
+His hair was black, straight, and short, and his eyes as black as
+coals. Like his companions, he stood as straight as an arrow, and
+could carry a pail of water on his head without spilling a drop.
+
+He, too, ate rice three times a day. It puffed him up like a little
+old man, which added to his grotesqueness and gave him a certain
+air of dignity that went well with his features when they were in
+repose. Around his waist he wore a silver chain with a silver heart
+suspended from it. Its purpose was to keep off the evil spirits.
+
+There was always an atmosphere of sandalwood and Arab essence about
+Baboo that reminded me of the holds of the old sailing-ships that used
+to come into Boston harbor from the Indies. I think his mother must
+have rubbed the perfumes into his hair as the one way of declaring to
+the world her affection for him. She could not give him clothes, or
+ornaments, or toys: such was not the fashion of Baboo's race. Neither
+was he old enough to wear the silk sarong that his Aunt Fatima had
+woven for him on her loom.
+
+Baboo had been well trained, and however lordly he might be in the
+quarters, he was marked in his respect to the mistress. He would
+touch his forehead to the red earth when I drove away of a morning to
+the office; though the next moment I might catch him blowing a tiny
+ball of clay from his sumpitan into the ear of his father, the syce,
+as he stood majestically on the step behind me.
+
+Baboo went to school for two hours every day to a fat old Arab
+penager, or teacher, whose schoolroom was an open stall, and whose
+only furniture a bench, on which he sat cross-legged, and flourished
+a whip in one hand and a chapter of the Koran in the other.
+
+There were a dozen little fellows in the school; all naked. They
+stood up in line, and in a soft musical treble chanted in chorus the
+glorious promises of the Koran, even while their eyes wandered from
+the dusky corner where a cheko lizard was struggling with an atlas
+moth, to the frantic gesticulations of a naked Hindu who was calling
+his meek-eyed bullocks hard names because they insisted on lying down
+in the middle of the road for their noonday siesta.
+
+Baboo's father, Aboo Din, was a Hadji, for he had been to Mecca. When
+nothing else could make Baboo forget the effects of the green durian
+he had eaten, Aboo Din would take the child on his knees and sing
+to him of his trip to Mecca, in a quaint, monotonous voice, full of
+sorrowful quavers. Baboo believed he himself could have left Singapore
+any day and found Mecca in the dark.
+
+We had been living some weeks in a government bungalow, fourteen miles
+from Singapore, across the island that looks out on the Straits of
+Malacca. The fishing and hunting were excellent. I had shot wild pig,
+deer, tapirs, and for some days had been getting ready to track down
+a tiger that had been prowling in the jungle about the bungalow.
+
+But of a morning, as we lay lazily chatting in our long chairs behind
+the bamboo chicks, the cries of "Harimau! Harimau!" and "Baboo"
+came up to us from the servants' quarters.
+
+Aboo Din sprang over the railing of the veranda, and without stopping
+even to touch the back of his hand to his forehead, cried,--
+
+"Tuan Consul, tiger have eat chow dog and got Baboo!"
+
+Then he rushed into the dining room, snatched up my Winchester and
+cartridge-belt, and handed them to me with a "Lekas (quick)! Come!"
+
+He sprang back off the veranda and ran to his quarters where the men
+were arming themselves with ugly krises and heavy parangs.
+
+I had not much hope of finding the tiger, much less of rescuing Baboo,
+dead or alive. The jungle loomed up like an impassable wall on all
+three sides of the compound, so dense, compact, and interwoven, that
+a bird could not fly through it. Still I knew that my men, if they
+had the courage, could follow where the tiger led, and could cut a
+path for me.
+
+Aboo Din unloosed a half-dozen pariah dogs that we kept for wild pig,
+and led them to the spot where the tiger had last lain. In an instant
+the entire pack sent up a doleful howl and slunk back to their kennels.
+
+Aboo Din lashed them mercilessly and drove them into the jungle,
+where he followed on his hands and knees. I only waited to don my
+green kaki suit and canvas shooting hat and despatch a man to the
+neighboring kampong, or village, to ask the punghulo (chief) to send
+me his shikaris, or hunters. Then I plunged into the jungle path
+that my kebuns had cut with their keen parangs, or jungle-knives. Ten
+feet within the confines of the forest the metallic glare of the sun
+and the pitiless reflections of the China Sea were lost in a dim,
+green twilight. Far ahead I could hear the half-hearted snarls of
+the cowardly, deserting curs, and Aboo Din's angry voice rapidly
+exhausting the curses of the Koran on their heads.
+
+My men, who were naked save for a cotton sarong wound around their
+waists, slashed here a rubber-vine, there a thorny rattan, and again
+a mass of creepers that were as tenacious as iron ropes, all the time
+pressing forward at a rapid walk. Ofttimes the trail led from the
+solid ground through a swamp where grew great sago palms, and out
+of which a black, sluggish stream flowed toward the straits. Gray
+iguanas and pendants of dove orchids hung from the limbs above,
+and green and gold lizards scuttled up the trees at our approach.
+
+At the first plot of wet ground Aboo Din sent up a shout, and awaited
+my coming. I found him on his hands and knees, gazing stupidly at
+the prints in the moist earth.
+
+"Tuan," he shouted, "see Baboo's feet, one--two--three--more! Praise
+be to Allah!"
+
+I dropped down among the lily-pads and pitcher-plants beside him.
+There, sure enough, close by the catlike footmarks of the tiger, was
+the perfect impression of one of Baboo's bare feet. Farther on was the
+imprint of another, and then a third. Wonderful! The intervals between
+the several footmarks were far enough apart for the stride of a man!
+
+"Apa?" (What does it mean?) I said.
+
+Aboo Din tore his hair and called upon Allah and the assembled Malays
+to witness that he was the father of this Baboo, but that, in the
+sight of Mohammed, he was innocent of this witchcraft. He had striven
+from Hari Rahmadan to Hari Rahmanan to bring this four-year-old up in
+the light of the Koran, but here he was striding through the jungle,
+three feet and more at a step, holding to a tiger's tail!
+
+I shouted with laughter as the truth dawned upon me. It must be
+so,--Baboo was alive. His footprints were before me. He was being
+dragged through the jungle by a full-grown Malayan tiger! How else
+explain his impossible strides, overlapping the beast's marks!
+
+Aboo Din turned his face toward Mecca, and his lips moved in prayer.
+
+"May Allah be kind to this tiger!" he mumbled. "He is in the hands
+of a witch. We shall find him as harmless as an old cat. Baboo will
+break out his teeth with a club of billion wood and bite off his
+claws with his own teeth. Allah is merciful!"
+
+We pushed on for half an hour over a dry, foliage-cushioned strip
+of ground that left no trace of the pursued. At the second wet spot
+we dashed forward eagerly and scanned the trail for signs of Baboo,
+but only the pads of the tiger marred the surface of the slime.
+
+Aboo Din squatted at the root of a huge mangrove and broke forth
+into loud lamentations, while the last remaining cur took advantage
+of his preoccupation to sneak back on the homeward trail.
+
+"Aboo," I commanded sarcastically, "pergie! (move on!) Baboo is a
+man and a witch. He is tired of walking, and is riding on the back
+of the tiger!"
+
+Aboo gazed into my face incredulously for a moment; then, picking up
+his parang and tightening his sarong, strode on ahead without a word.
+
+At noon we came upon a sandy stretch of soil that contained
+a few diseased cocoanut palms, fringed by a sluggish lagoon,
+and a great banian tree whose trunk was hardly more than a mass
+of interlaced roots. A troop of long-armed wah-wah monkeys were
+scolding and whistling within its dense foliage with surprising
+intensity. Occasionally one would drop from an outreaching limb to
+one of the pendulous roots, and then, with a shrill whistle of fright,
+spring back to the protection of his mates.
+
+A Malay silenced them by throwing a half-ripe cocoanut into the
+midst of the tree, and we moved on to the shade of the sturdiest
+palm. There we sat down to rest and eat some biscuits softened in
+the milk of a cocoanut.
+
+"There is a boa in the roots of the banian, Aboo," I said, looking
+longingly toward its deep shadow.
+
+He nodded his head, and drew from the pouch in the knot in his sarong
+a few broken fragments of areca nut. These he wrapped in a lemon leaf
+well smeared with lime, and tucked the entire mass into the corner
+of his mouth.
+
+In a moment a brilliant red juice dyed his lips, and he closed his
+eyes in happy contentment, oblivious, for the time, of the sand and
+fallen trunks that seemed to dance in the parching rays of the sun,
+oblivious, even, of the loss of his first-born.
+
+I was revolving in my mind whether there was any use in continuing
+the chase, which I would have given up long before, had I not known
+that a tiger who has eaten to repletion is both timid and lazy. This
+one had certainly breakfasted on a dog or on some animal before
+encountering Baboo.
+
+I had hoped that possibly the barking of the curs might have caused
+him to drop the child, and make off where pursuit would be impossible;
+but so far we had, after those footprints, found neither traces of
+Baboo alive, nor the blood which should have been seen had the tiger
+killed the child.
+
+Suddenly a long, pear-shaped mangrove-pod struck me full in the
+breast. I sprang up in surprise, for I was under a cocoanut tree,
+and there was no mangrove nearer than the lagoon.
+
+A Malay looked up sleepily, and pointed toward the wide-spreading
+banian.
+
+"Monkey, Tuan!"
+
+My eyes followed the direction indicated, and could just distinguish a
+grinning face among the interlacing roots at the base of the tree. So
+I picked up the green, dartlike end of the pod, and took careful aim
+at the brown face and milk-white teeth.
+
+Then it struck me as peculiar that a monkey, after all the evidence
+of fright we had so lately witnessed, should seek a hiding-place that
+must be within easy reach of its greatest enemy, the boa-constrictor.
+
+Aboo Din had aroused himself, and was looking intently in the same
+direction. Before I could take a step toward the tree he had leaped
+to his feet, and was bounding across the little space, shouting,
+"Baboo! Baboo!"
+
+The small brown face instantly disappeared, and we were left staring
+blankly at a dark opening into the heart of the woody maze. Then we
+heard the small, well-known voice of Baboo:--
+
+"Tabek (greeting), Tuan! Greeting, Aboo Din! Tuan Consul no whip,
+Baboo come out."
+
+Aboo Din ran his long, naked arm into the opening in pursuit of his
+first-born--the audacious boy who would make terms with his white
+master!
+
+"Is it not enough before Allah that this son should cause me, a Hadji,
+to curse daily, but now he must bewitch tigers and dictate terms to
+the Tuan and to me, his father? He shall feel the strength of my wrist;
+I will--O Allah!"
+
+Aboo snatched forth his arm with a howl of pain. One of his fingers
+was bleeding profusely, and the marks of tiny teeth showed plainly
+where Baboo had closed them on the offending hand.
+
+"Biak, Baboo, mari!" (Good, come forth!) I said.
+
+First the round, soft face of the small miscreant appeared; then
+the head, and then the naked little body. Aboo Din grasped him in
+his arms, regardless of his former threats, or of the blood that was
+flowing from his wounds. Then, amid caresses and promises to Allah
+to kill fire-fighting cocks, the father hugged and kissed Baboo until
+he cried out with pain.
+
+After each Malay had taken the little fellow in his arms, I turned
+to Baboo and said, while I tried to be severe,--
+
+"Baboo, where is tiger?"
+
+"Sudah mati (dead), Tuan," he answered with dignity. "Tiger over there,
+Tuan. Sladang kill. I hid here and wait for Aboo Din!"
+
+He touched his forehead with the back of his brown palm. There was
+nothing, either in the little fellow's bearing or words, that betrayed
+fear or bravado. It was only one mishap more or less to him.
+
+We followed Baboo's lead to the edge of the jungle, and there,
+stretched out in the hot sand, lay the great, tawny beast, stamped
+and pawed until he was almost unrecognizable.
+
+All about him were the hoof-marks of the great sladang, the fiercest
+and wildest animal of the peninsula--the Malayan bull that will charge
+a tiger, a black lion, a boa, and even a crocodile, on sight. Hunters
+will go miles to avoid one of them, and a herd of elephants will go
+trumpeting away in fear at their approach.
+
+"Kuching besar (big cat) eat Baboo's chow dog, then sleep in
+lallang grass,"--this was the child's story. "Baboo find, and say,
+'Bagus kuching (pretty kitty), see Baboo's doll?' Kuching no like
+Baboo's doll mem consul give. Kuching run away. Baboo catch tail,
+run too. Kuching go long ways. Baboo 'fraid Aboo Din whip and tell
+kuching must go back. Kuching pick Baboo up in mouth when Baboo let go.
+
+"Kuching hurt Baboo. Baboo stick fingers in kuching's eye. Kuching
+no more hurt Baboo. Kuching stop under banian tree and sleep. Big
+sladang come, fight kuching. Baboo sorry for good kuching. Baboo hid
+from sladang,--Aboo Din no whip Baboo?"
+
+His voice dropped to a pathetic little quaver, and he put up his
+hands with an appealing gesture; but his brown legs were drawn back
+ready to flee should Aboo Din make one hostile move.
+
+"Baboo," I said, "you are a hero!"
+
+Baboo opened his little black eyes, but did not dispute me.
+
+"You shall go to Mecca when you grow up, and become a Hadji, and when
+you come back the high kadi shall take you in the mosque and make
+a kateeb of you," said I. "Now put your forehead to the ground and
+thank the good Allah that the kuching had eaten dog before he got you."
+
+Baboo did as he was told, but I think that in his heart he was more
+grateful that for once he had evaded a whipping than for his remarkable
+escape. A little later the punghulo came up with a half-dozen shikaris,
+or hunters, and a pack of hunting dogs. The men skinned the mutilated
+carcass of the only "good tiger" I met during my three years' hunting
+in the jungles of this strange old peninsula.
+
+
+
+
+
+BABOO'S PIRATES
+
+An Adventure in the Pahang River
+
+
+There was a scuffle in the outer office, and a thin, piping voice
+was calling down all the curses of the Koran on the heads of my great
+top-heavy Hindu guards.
+
+"Sons of dogs," I heard in the most withering contempt, "I will see
+the Tuan Consul. Know he is my father."
+
+A tall Sikh, with his great red turban awry and his brown kaki uniform
+torn and soiled, pushed through the bamboo chicks and into my presence.
+
+He was dragging a small bit of naked humanity by the folds of its
+faded cotton sarong.
+
+The powerful soldier was hot and flushed, and a little stream of
+blood trickling from his finger tips showed where they had come in
+contact with his captive's teeth. It was as though an elephant had
+been worried by a pariah cur.
+
+"Your Excellency," he said, salaaming and gasping for breath.
+
+"It is Baboo, the Harimau-Anak!"
+
+Baboo wrenched from the guard's grasp and glided up to my desk. The
+back of his open palm went to his forehead, and his big brown eyes
+looked up appealingly into mine.
+
+"What is it, Tiger-Child?" I asked, bestowing on him the title the
+Malays of Kampong Glam had given him as a perpetual reminder of his
+famous adventure.
+
+Dimples came into either tear-stained cheek. He smoothed out the rents
+in his small sarong, and without deigning to notice his late captor,
+said in a soft sing-song voice:--
+
+"Tuan Consul, Baboo want to go with the Heaven-Born to Pahang.
+Baboo six years old,--can fight pirates like Aboo Din, the father. May
+Mohammed make Tuan as odorous as musk!"
+
+"You are a boaster before Allah, Baboo," I said, smiling.
+
+Baboo dropped his head in perfectly simulated contrition.
+
+"I have thought much, Tuan."
+
+News had come to me that an American merchant ship had been wrecked
+near the mouth of the Pahang River, and that the Malays, who were at
+the time in revolt against the English Resident, had taken possession
+of its cargo of petroleum and made prisoners of the crew.
+
+I had asked the colonial governor for a guard of five Sikhs and a
+launch, that I might steam up the coast and investigate the alleged
+outrage before appealing officially to the British government.
+
+Of course Baboo went, much to the disgust of Aboo Din, the syce.
+
+I never was able to refuse the little fellow anything, and I knew if
+I left him behind he would be revenged by running away.
+
+I had vowed again and again that Baboo should stay lost the next
+time he indulged in his periodical vanishing act, but each time when
+night came and Aboo Din, the syce, and Fatima, the mother, crept
+pathetically along the veranda to where I was smoking and steeling
+my heart against the little rascal, I would snatch up my cork helmet
+and spring into my cart, which Aboo Din had kept waiting inside the
+stables for the moment when I should relent.
+
+Since Baboo had become a hero and earned the appellation of the
+Harimau-Anak, his vanity directed his footsteps toward Kampong Glam,
+the Malay quarter of Singapore. Here he was generally to be found,
+seated on a richly hued Indian rug, with his feet drawn up under him,
+amid a circle of admiring shopkeepers, syces, kebuns, and fishermen,
+narrating for the hundredth time how he had been caught at Changhi
+by a tiger, carried through the jungle on its back until he came to
+a great banian tree, into which he had crawled while the tiger slept,
+how a sladang (wild bull) came out of the lagoon and killed the tiger,
+and how Tuan Consul and Aboo Din, the father, had found him and kissed
+him many times.
+
+Often he enlarged on the well-known story and repeated long
+conversations that he had carried on with the tiger while they were
+journeying through the jungle.
+
+A brass lamp hung above his head in which the cocoanut oil sputtered
+and burned and cast a fitful half-light about the box-like stall.
+
+Only the eager faces of the listeners stood out clear and distinct
+against the shadowy background of tapestries from Madras and Bokhara,
+soft rich rugs from Afghanistan and Persia, curiously wrought finger
+bowls of brass and copper from Delhi and Siam, and piles of cunningly
+painted sarongs from Java.
+
+Close against a naked fisherman sat the owner of the bazaar in tall,
+conical silk-plaited hat and flowing robes, ministering to the wants
+of the little actor, as the soft, monotonous voice paused for a brief
+instant for the tiny cups of black coffee.
+
+I never had the heart to interrupt him in the midst of one of these
+dramatic recitals, but would stand respectfully without the circle
+of light until he had finished the last sentence.
+
+He was not frightened when I thrust the squatting natives right
+and left, and he did not forget to arise and touch the back of his
+open palm to his forehead, with a calm and reverent, "Tabek, Tuan"
+(Greeting, my lord).
+
+
+
+So Baboo went with us to fight pirates.
+
+He unrolled his mat out on the bow where every dash of warm salt
+water wet his brown skin, and where he could watch the flying fish
+dash across our way.
+
+He was very quiet during the two days of the trip, as though he were
+fully conscious of the heavy responsibility that rested upon his young
+shoulders. I had called him a boaster and it had cut him to the quick.
+
+We found the wreck of the Bunker Hill on a sunken coral reef near the
+mouth of the Pahang River, but every vestige of her cargo and stores
+was gone, even to the glass in her cabin windows and the brasses on
+her rails.
+
+We worked in along the shore and kept a lookout for camps or signals,
+but found none.
+
+I decided to go up the river as far as possible in the launch in
+hope of coming across some trace of the missing crew, although I
+was satisfied that they had been captured by the noted rebel chief,
+the Orang Kayah of Semantan, or by his more famous lieutenant, the
+crafty Panglima Muda of Jempol, and were being held for ransom.
+
+It was late in the afternoon when we entered the mouth of the Sungi
+Pahang.
+
+Aboo Din advised a delay until the next morning.
+
+"The Orang Kayah's Malays are pirates, Tuan," he said, with a sinister
+shrug of his bare shoulders, "he has many men and swift praus; the
+Dutch, at Rio, have sold them guns, and they have their krises,--they
+are cowards in the day."
+
+I smiled at the syce's fears.
+
+I knew that the days of piracy in the Straits of Malacca, save for
+an occasional outbreak of high-sea petty larceny on a Chinese lumber
+junk or a native trader's tonkang, were past, and I did not believe
+that the rebels would have the hardihood to attack, day or night,
+a boat, however unprotected, bearing the American flag.
+
+For an hour or more we ran along between the mangrove-bordered shores
+against a swiftly flowing, muddy current.
+
+The great tangled roots of these trees stood up out of the water like
+a fretwork of lace, and the interwoven branches above our heads shut
+out the glassy glare of the sun. We pushed on until the dim twilight
+faded out, and only a phosphorescent glow on the water remained to
+reveal the snags that marked our course.
+
+The launch was anchored for the night close under the bank, where
+the maze of mangroves was beginning to give place to the solid ground
+and the jungle.
+
+Myriads of fireflies settled down on us and hung from the low limbs
+of the overhanging trees, relieving the hot, murky darkness with
+their thousands of throbbing lamps.
+
+From time to time a crocodile splashed in the water as he slid heavily
+down the clayey bank at the bow.
+
+In the trees and rubber-vines all about us a colony of long-armed
+wah-wah monkeys whistled and chattered, and farther away the sharp,
+rasping note of a cicada kept up a continuous protest at our invasion.
+
+At intervals the long, quivering yell of a tiger frightened the
+garrulous monkeys into silence, and made us peer apprehensively toward
+the impenetrable blackness of the jungle.
+
+Aboo Din came to me as I was arranging my mosquito curtains for
+the night. He was casting quick, timid glances over his shoulder as
+he talked.
+
+"Tuan, I no like this place. Too close bank. Ten boat-lengths down
+stream better. Baboo swear by Allah he see faces behind trees,--once,
+twice. Baboo good eyes."
+
+I shook off the uncanny feeling that the place was beginning to cast
+over me, and turned fiercely on the faithful Aboo Din.
+
+He slunk away with a low salaam, muttering something about the
+Heaven-Born being all wise, and later I saw him in deep converse with
+his first-born under a palm-thatched cadjang on the bow.
+
+I was half inclined to take Aboo Din's advice and drop down the
+stream. Then it occurred to me that I might better face an imaginary
+foe than the whirlpools and sunken snags of the Pahang.
+
+I posted sentinels fore and aft and lay down and closed my eyes to
+the legion of fireflies that made the night luminous, and my ears
+to the low, musical chant that arose fitfully from among my Malay
+servants on the stern.
+
+The Sikhs were big, massive fellows, fully six feet tall, with towering
+red turbans that accentuated their height fully a foot.
+
+They were regular artillery-men from Fort Canning, and had seen
+service all over India.
+
+They had not been in Singapore long enough to become acquainted
+with the Malay language or character, but they knew their duty,
+and I trusted to their military training rather than to my Malay's
+superior knowledge for our safety during the night.
+
+I found out later that the cunning in Baboo's small brown finger was
+worth all the precision and drill in the Sikh sergeant's great body.
+
+I fell asleep at last, lulled by the tenderly crooned promises of
+the Koran, and the drowsy, intermittent prattle of the monkeys among
+the varnished leaves above. The night was intensely hot; not a breath
+of air could stir within our living-cabin, and the cooling moisture
+which always comes with nightfall on the equator was lapped up by the
+thirsty fronds above our heads, so that I had not slept many hours
+before I awoke dripping with perspiration, and faint.
+
+There was an impression in my mind that I had been awakened by the
+falling of glass.
+
+The Sikh saluted silently as I stepped out on the deck.
+
+It lacked some hours of daylight, and there was nothing to do but go
+back to my bed, vowing never again to camp for the night along the
+steaming shores of a jungle-covered stream.
+
+I slept but indifferently; I missed the cooling swish of the punkah,
+and all through my dreams the crackle and breaking of glass seemed
+to mingle with the insistent buzz of the tiger-gnats.
+
+Baboo's diminutive form kept flitting between me and the fireflies.
+
+The first half-lights of morning were struggling down through the
+green canopy above when I was brought to my feet by the discharge of
+a Winchester and a long, shrill cry of fright and pain.
+
+Before I could disentangle myself from the meshes of the mosquito net
+I could see dimly a dozen naked forms drop lightly on to the deck
+from the obscurity of the bank, followed in each case by a long,
+piercing scream of pain.
+
+I snatched up my revolver and rushed out on to the deck in my bare
+feet.
+
+Some one grasped me by the shoulder and shouted:--
+
+"Jaga biak, biak, Tuan (be careful, Tuan), pirates!"
+
+I recognized Aboo Din's voice, and I checked myself just as my feet
+came in contact with a broken beer bottle.
+
+The entire surface of the little deck was strewn with glittering
+star-shaped points that corresponded with the fragments before me.
+
+I had not a moment to investigate, however, for in the gloom, where
+the bow of the launch touched the foliage-meshed bank, a scene of
+wild confusion was taking place.
+
+Shadowy forms were leaping, one after another, from the branches above
+on to the deck. I slowly cocked my revolver, doubting my senses,
+for each time one of the invaders reached the deck he sprang into
+the air with the long, thrilling cry of pain that had awakened me,
+and with another bound was on the bulwarks and over the side of the
+launch, clinging to the railing.
+
+With each cry, Baboo's mocking voice came out, shrill and exultant,
+from behind a pile of life-preservers. "O Allah, judge the dogs. They
+would kris the great Tuan as he slept--the pariahs!--but they forgot
+so mean a thing as Baboo!"
+
+The smell of warm blood filled the air, and a low snarl among the
+rubber-vines revealed the presence of a tiger.
+
+I felt Aboo Din's hand tremble on my shoulder.
+
+The five Sikhs were drawn up in battle array before the cabin door,
+waiting for the word of command. I glanced at them and hesitated.
+
+"Tid 'apa, Tuan" (never mind), Aboo Din whispered with a proud ring
+in his voice.
+
+"Baboo blow Orang Kayah's men away with the breath of his mouth."
+
+As he spoke the branches above the bow were thrust aside and a dark
+form hung for an instant as though in doubt, then shot straight down
+upon the corrugated surface of the deck.
+
+As before, a shriek of agony heralded the descent, followed by
+Baboo's laugh, then the dim shape sprang wildly upon the bulwark,
+lost its hold, and went over with a great splash among the labyrinth
+of snakelike mangrove roots.
+
+There was the rushing of many heavy forms through the red mud,
+a snapping of great jaws, and there was no mistaking the almost
+mortal cry that arose from out the darkness. I had often heard it
+when paddling softly up one of the wild Malayan rivers.
+
+It was the death cry of a wah-wah monkey facing the cruel jaws of
+a crocodile.
+
+I plunged my fingers into my ears to smother the sound.  I understood
+it all now. Baboo's pirates, the dreaded Orang Kayah's rebels, were the
+troop of monkeys we had heard the night before in the tambusa trees.
+
+"Baboo," I shouted, "come here! What does this all mean?"
+
+The Tiger-Child glided from behind the protecting pile, and came
+close up to my legs.
+
+"Tuan," he whimpered, "Baboo see many faces behind trees. Baboo 'fraid
+for Tuan,--Tuan great and good,--save Baboo from tiger,--Baboo break
+up all glass bottles--old bottles--Tuan no want old bottle--Baboo
+and Aboo Din, the father, put them on deck so when Orang Kayah's men
+come out of jungle and drop from trees on deck they cut their feet
+on glass. Baboo is through talking,--Tuan no whip Baboo!"
+
+There was the pathetic little quaver in his voice that I knew so well.
+
+"But they were monkeys, Baboo, not pirates."
+
+Baboo shrugged his brown shoulders and kept his eyes on my feet.
+
+"Allah is good!" he muttered.
+
+Allah was good; they might have been pirates.
+
+The snarl of the tiger was growing more insistent and near. I gave
+the order, and the boat backed out into mid-stream.
+
+As the sun was reducing the gloom of the sylvan tunnel to a translucent
+twilight, we floated down the swift current toward the ocean.
+
+I had given up all hope of finding the shipwrecked men, and decided
+to ask the government to send a gunboat to demand their release.
+
+As the bow of the launch passed the wreck of the Bunker Hill and
+responded to the long even swell of the Pacific, Baboo beckoned
+sheepishly to Aboo Din, and together they swept all trace of his
+adventure into the green waters.
+
+Among the souvenirs of my sojourn in Golden Chersonese is a bit
+of amber-colored glass bearing the world-renowned name of a London
+brewer. There is a dark stain on one side of it that came from the
+hairy foot of one of Baboo's "pirates."
+
+
+
+
+
+HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE
+
+In the Straits of Malacca
+
+
+Two hours' steam south from Singapore, out into the famous Straits of
+Malacca, or one day's steam north from the equator, stands Raffles's
+Lighthouse. Sir Stamford Raffles, the man from whom it took its name,
+rests in Westminster Abbey, and a heroic-sized bronze statue of him
+graces the centre of the beautiful ocean esplanade of Singapore,
+the city he founded.
+
+It was on the rocky island on which stands this light, that we--the
+mistress and I--played Robinson Crusoe, or, to be nearer the truth,
+Swiss Family Robinson.
+
+It was hard to imagine, I confess, that the beautiful steam launch
+that brought us was a wreck; that our half-dozen Chinese servants were
+members of the family; that the ton of impedimenta was the flotsam of
+the sea; that the Eurasian keeper and his attendants were cannibals;
+but we closed our eyes to all disturbing elements, and only remembered
+that we were alone on a sunlit rock in the midst of a sunlit sea,
+and that the dreams of our childhood were, to some extent, realized.
+
+What live American boy has not had the desire, possibly but
+half-admitted, to some day be like his hero, dear old Crusoe, on a
+tropical island, monarch of all, hampered by no dictates of society
+or fashion? I admit my desire, and, further, that it did not leave
+me as I grew older.
+
+We had just time to inspect our little island home before the sun
+went down, far out in the Indian Ocean.
+
+Originally the island had been but a barren, uneven rock, the
+resting-place for gulls; but now its summit has been made flat by a
+coating of concrete. There is just enough earth between the concrete
+and the rocky edges of the island to support a circle of cocoanut
+trees, a great almond tree, and a queer-looking banian tree, whose
+wide-spreading arms extend over nearly half the little plaza. Below
+the lighthouse, and set back like caves into the side of the island,
+are the kitchen and the servants' quarters, a covered passageway
+connecting them with the rotunda of the tower, in which we have set
+our dining table.
+
+Ah Ming, our "China boy," seemed to be inveterate in his determination
+to spoil our Swiss Family Robinson illusion. We were hardly settled
+before he came to us.
+
+"Mem" (mistress), "no have got ice-e-blox. Ice-e all glow away."
+
+"Very well, Ming. Dig a hole in the ground, and put the ice in it."
+
+"How can dig? Glound all same, hard like ice-e."
+
+"Well, let the ice melt," I replied. "Robinson Crusoe had no ice."
+
+In a half-hour Jim, the cook, came up to speak to the "Mem." He
+lowered his cue, brushed the creases out of his spotless shirt,
+drew his face down, and commenced:--
+
+"Mem, no have got chocolate, how can make puddlin'?"
+
+I laughed outright. Jim looked hurt.
+
+"Jim, did you ever hear of one Crusoe?"
+
+"No, Tuan!" (Lord.)
+
+"Well, he was a Tuan who lived for thirty years without once eating
+chocolate 'puddlin'.' We'll not eat any for ten days. Sabe?"
+
+Jim retired, mortified and astonished.
+
+Inside of another half-hour, the Tukang Ayer, or water-carrier, arrived
+on the scene. He was simply dressed in a pair of knee-breeches. He
+complained of a lack of silver polish, and was told to pound up a
+stone for the knives, and let the silver alone.
+
+We are really in the heart of a small archipelago. All about us are
+verdure-covered islands. They are now the homes of native fishermen,
+but a century ago they were hiding-places for the fierce Malayan
+pirates whose sanguinary deeds made the peninsula a byword in the
+mouths of Europeans.
+
+A rocky beach extends about the island proper, contracting and
+expanding as the tide rises and falls. On this beach a hundred and one
+varieties of shells glisten in the salt water, exposing their delicate
+shades of coloring to the rays of the sun. Coral formations of endless
+design and shape come to view through the limpid spectrum, forming
+a perfect submarine garden of wondrous beauty. Through the shrubs,
+branches, ferns, and sponges of coral, the brilliantly colored fish
+of the Southern seas sport like goldfish in some immense aquarium.
+
+We draw out our chairs within the protection of the almond tree, and
+watch the sun sink slowly to a level with the masts of a bark that is
+bound for Java and the Bornean coasts. The black, dead lava of our
+island becomes molten for the time, and the flakes of salt left on
+the coral reef by the outgoing tide are filled with suggestions of
+the gold of the days of '49. A faint breeze rustles among the long,
+fan-like leaves of the palm, and brings out the rich yellow tints
+with their background of green. A clear, sweet aroma comes from out
+the almond tree. The red sun and the white sheets of the bark sail
+away together for the Spice Islands of the South Pacific.
+
+We sleep in a room in the heart of the lighthouse. The stairway
+leading to it is so steep that we find it necessary to hold on to a
+knotted rope as we ascend. Hundreds of little birds, no larger than
+sparrows, dash by the windows, flying into the face of the gale that
+rages during the night, keeping up all the time a sharp, high note
+that sounds like wind blowing on telegraph wires.
+
+Every morning, at six o'clock, Ah Ming clambers up the perpendicular
+stairway, with tea and toast. We swallow it hurriedly, wrap a sarong
+about us, and take a dip in the sea, the while keeping our eyes open
+for sharks. Often, after a bath, while stretched out in a long chair,
+we see the black fins of a man-eater cruising just outside the reef. I
+do not know that I ever hit one, but I have used a good deal of lead
+firing at them.
+
+One morning we started on an exploring expedition, in the keeper's
+jolly-boat. It was only a short distance to the first island, a small
+rocky one, with a bit of sandy beach, along which were scattered
+the charred embers of past fires. From under our feet darted the
+grotesque little robber-crabs, with their stolen shell houses on their
+backs. A great white jellyfish, looking like a big tapioca pudding,
+had been washed up with the tide out of the reach of the sea, and a
+small colony of ants was feasting on it. We did not try to explore
+the interior of the islet. We named it Fir Island from its crown of
+fir-like casuarina trees, which sent out on every breeze a balsamic
+odor that was charged with far-away New England recollections.
+
+The next island was a large one. The keeper said it was called Pulo
+Seneng, or Island of Leisure, and held a little kampong, or village of
+Malays, under an old punghulo, or chief, named Wahpering. We found,
+on nearing the verdure-covered island, that it looked much larger
+than it really was. The woods grew out into the sea for a quarter
+of a mile. We entered the wood by a narrow walled inlet, and found
+ourselves for the first time in a mangrove swamp. The trees all seemed
+to be growing on stilts. A perfect labyrinth of roots stood up out of
+the water, like a rough scaffold, on which rested the tree trunks,
+high and dry above the flood.  From the limbs of the trees hung the
+seed pods, two feet in length, sharp-pointed at the lower end, while on
+the upper end, next to the tree, was a russet pear-shaped growth. They
+are so nicely balanced that when in their maturity they drop from the
+branches, they fall upright in the mud, literally planting themselves.
+
+The punghulo's house, or bungalow, stood at the head of the inlet. The
+old man--he must have been sixty--donned his best clothes, relieved his
+mouth of a great red quid of betel, and came out to welcome us. He
+gracefully touched his forehead with the back of his open palm,
+and mumbled the Malay greeting:--
+
+"Tabek, Tuan?" (How are you, my lord?)
+
+When the keeper gave him our cards, and announced us in florid
+language, the genial old fellow touched his forehead again, and in
+his best Bugis Malay begged the great Rajah and Ranee to enter his
+humble home.
+
+The only way of entering a Malay home is by a rickety ladder six feet
+high, and through a four-foot opening. I am afraid that the great
+"Rajah and Ranee" lost some of their lately acquired dignity in
+accepting the invitation.
+
+Wahpering's bungalow, other than being larger and roomier than
+the ordinary bungalow, was exactly like all others in style and
+architecture.
+
+It was built close to the water's edge, on palm posts six feet above
+the ground. This was for protection from the tiger, from thieves, from
+the water, and for sanitary reasons. Within the house we could just
+stand upright. The floor was of split bamboo, and was elastic to the
+foot, causing a sensation which at first made us step carefully. The
+open places left by the crossing of the bamboo slats were a great
+convenience to the punghulo's wives, as they could sweep all the refuse
+of the house through them; they might also be a great accommodation to
+the punghulo's enemies, if he had any, for they could easily ascertain
+the exact mat on which he slept, and stab him with their keen krises
+from beneath.
+
+In one corner of the room was the hand-loom on which the punghulo's
+old wife was weaving the universal article of dress, the sarong.
+
+The weaving of a sarong represents the labor of twenty days, and
+when we gave the dried-up old worker two dollars and a half for one,
+her syrah-stained gums broke forth from between her bright-red lips
+in a ghastly grin of pleasure.
+
+There must have been the representatives of at least four generations
+under the punghulo's hospitable roof. Men and women, alike, were
+dressed in the skirt-like sarong which fell from the waist down; above
+that some of the older women wore another garment called a kabaya. The
+married women were easily distinguishable by their swollen gums and
+filed teeth.
+
+The roof and sides of the house were of attap. This is made from
+the long, arrow-like leaves of the nipah palm. Unlike its brother
+palms--the cocoa, the sago, the gamooty, and the areca--the nipah is
+short, and more like a giant cactus in growth. Its leaves are stripped
+off by the natives, then bent over a bamboo rod and sewed together with
+fibres of the same palm. When dry they become glazed and waterproof.
+
+The tall, slender areca palm, which stands about every kampong,
+supplies the natives with their great luxury--an acorn, known as the
+betel-nut, which, when crushed and mixed with lime leaves, takes the
+place of our chewing tobacco. In fact, the bright-red juice seen oozing
+from the corners of a Malay's mouth is as much a part of himself as
+is his sarong or kris. Betel-nut chewing holds its own against the
+opium of the Chinese and the tobacco of the European.
+
+As soon as we shook hands ceremoniously with the punghulo's oldest
+wife, and tabeked to the rest of his big family, the old man scrambled
+down the ladder, and sent a boy up a cocoanut tree for some fresh
+nuts. In a moment half a dozen of the great, oval, green nuts came
+pounding down into the sand. Another little fellow snatched them up,
+and with a sharp parang, or hatchet-like knife, cut away the soft shuck
+until the cocoanut took the form of a pyramid, at the apex of which
+he bored a hole, and a stream of delicious, cool milk gurgled out. We
+needed no second invitation to apply our lips to the hole. The meat
+inside was so soft that we could eat it with a spoon. The cocoanut
+of commerce contains hardly a suggestion of the tender, fleshy pulp
+of a freshly picked nut.
+
+We left the punghulo's house with the old chief in the bow of our
+boat--he insisted upon seeing that we were properly announced to his
+subjects--and proceeded along the coast for half a mile, and then up
+a swampy lagoon to its head.
+
+The tall tops of the palms wrapped everything in a cool, green
+twilight. The waters of the lagoon were filled with little bronze
+forms, swimming and sporting about in its tepid depths regardless of
+the cruel eyes that gleamed at them from great log-like forms among
+the mangrove roots.
+
+Dozens of naked children fled up the rickety ladders of their homes
+as we approached. Ring-doves flew through the trees, and tame monkeys
+chattered at us from every corner. The men came out to meet us, and
+did the hospitalities of their village; and when we left, our boat
+was loaded down with presents of fish and fruit.
+
+Almost every day after that did we visit the kampong, and were always
+welcomed in the same cordial manner.
+
+Wahpering was tireless in his attentions. He kept his Sampan Besar,
+or big boat, with its crew at our disposal day after day.
+
+One day I showed him the American flag. He gazed at it thoughtfully and
+said, "Biak!" (Good.) "How big your country?" I tried to explain. He
+listened for a moment. "Big as Negri Blanda?" (Holland.) I laughed. "A
+thousand times larger!" The old fellow shook his head sadly, and
+looked at me reproachfully.
+
+"Tidah! Tidah!" (No, no.) "Rajah, Orang Blanda (Dutchman) show me
+chart of the world. Holland all red. Take almost all the world. Rest
+of country small, small. All in one little corner. How can Rajah say
+his country big?"
+
+There was no denying the old man's knowledge; I, too, had seen one
+of these Dutch maps of the world, which are circulated in Java to
+make the natives think that Holland is the greatest nation on earth.
+
+One day glided into another with surprising rapidity. We could swim,
+explore, or lie out in our long chairs and read and listlessly
+dream. All about our little island the silver sheen of the sea
+was checkered with sails. These strange native craft held for me
+a lasting fascination. I gazed out at them as they glided by and
+saw in them some of the rose-colored visions of my youth. Piracy,
+Indian Rajahs, and spice islands seemed to live in their queer red
+sails and palm-matting roofs. At night a soft, warm breeze blew from
+off shore and lulled us to sleep ere we were aware.
+
+One morning the old chief made us a visit before we were up. He
+announced his approach by a salute from a muzzle-loading musket. I
+returned it by a discharge from my revolver. He had come over
+with the morning tide to ask us to spend the day, as his guests,
+wild-pig hunting. Of course we accepted with alacrity. I am not
+going to tell you how we found all the able-bodied men and dogs on
+the island awaiting us, how they beat the jungle with frantic yells
+and shouts while we waited on the opposite side, or even how many
+pigs we shot. It would all take too long.
+
+We went fishing every day. The many-colored and many-shaped fish we
+caught were a constant wonderment to us. One was bottle-green, with
+sky-blue fins and tail, and striped with lines of gold. Its skin
+was stiff and firm as patent leather. Another was pale blue, with
+a bright-red proboscis two inches long. We caught cuttle-fish with
+great lustrous eyes, long jelly feelers, and a plentiful supply of
+black fluid; squibs, prawns, mullets, crabs, and devil-fish. These
+last are considered great delicacies by the natives. We had one
+fried. Its meat was perfectly white, and tasted like a tallow candle.
+
+The day on which we were to leave, Wahpering brought us some fruit and
+fish and a pair of ring-doves. Motioning me to one side, he whispered,
+the while looking shyly at the mistress, "Ranee very beautiful! How
+much you pay?" I was staggered for the moment, and made him repeat his
+question. This time I could not mistake him. "How much you pay for
+wife?" He gave his thumb a jerk in the direction of the mistress. I
+saw that he was really serious, so I collected my senses, and with
+a practical, businesslike air answered, "Two hundred dollars." The
+old fellow sighed.
+
+"The great Rajah very rich! I pay fifty for best wife."
+
+I have not tried to tell you all we did on our tropical island playing
+Robinson Crusoe. I have only tried to convey some little impression
+of a happy ten days that will ever be remembered as one more of
+those glorious, Oriental chapters in our lives which are filled with
+the gorgeous colors of crimson and gold, the delicate perfumes of
+spice-laden breezes, and with imperishable visions of a strange,
+old-world life.
+
+They are chapters that we can read over and over again with an ever
+increasing interest as the years roll by.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SARONG
+
+The Malay's Chief Garment
+
+
+No one knows who invented the sarong. When the great Sir Francis
+Drake skirted the beautiful jungle-bound shores of that strange Asian
+peninsula which seems forever to be pointing a wondering finger into
+the very heart of the greatest archipelago in the world, he found
+its inhabitants wearing the sarong. After a lapse of three centuries
+they still wear it,--neither Hindu invasion, Mohammedan conversion,
+Chinese immigration, nor European conquest has ever taken from them
+their national dress. Civilization has introduced many articles of
+clothing; but no matter how many of these are adopted, the Malay,
+from his Highness the Sultan of Johore, to the poorest fisherman of
+a squalid kampong on the muddy banks of a mangrove-hidden stream,
+religiously wears the sarong.
+
+It is only an oblong cloth, this fashion-surviving garb, from two
+to four feet in width and some two yards long; sewn together at the
+ends. It looks like a gingham bag with the bottom out. The wearer
+steps into it, and with two or three ingenious twists tightens it
+round the waist, thus forming a skirt and, at the same time, a belt
+in which he carries the kris, or snake-like dagger, the inevitable
+pouch of areca nut for chewing, and the few copper cents that he dares
+not trust in his unlocked hut. The man's skirt falls to his knees,
+and among the poor class forms his only article of dress, while the
+woman's reaches to her ankles and is worn in connection with another
+sarong that is thrown over her head as a veil, so that when she is
+abroad and meets one of the opposite sex she can, Moslem-like, draw
+it about her face in the form of a long, narrow slit, showing only
+her coal-black eyes and thinly pencilled eyebrows.
+
+In style or design the sarong never changes. Like the tartan of the
+Highlanders, which it greatly resembles, it is invariably a check
+of gay colors. They are all woven of silk or cotton, or of silk and
+cotton mixed, by the native women, and no attap-thatched home is
+complete without its hand-loom.
+
+One day we crawled up the narrow, rickety ladder that led into the
+two by four opening of old Wahpering's palm-shaded home. The little
+punghulo or chief, touched his forehead with the back of his open
+palm as we advanced cautiously over the open bamboo floor toward his
+old wife, who was seated in one corner by a low, horizontal window,
+weaving a sarong on a hand-loom. She looked up pleasantly with a soft
+"Tabek" (Greeting), and went on throwing her shuttle deftly through the
+brilliantly colored threads. The sharp bang of the dark, kamooning-wood
+bar drove the thread in place and left room for another. Back and
+forth flew the shuttle, and thread after thread was added to the
+fabric, yet no perceptible addition seemed to be made.
+
+"How long does it take to finish it?" I asked in Malay.
+
+"Twenty days," she answered, with a broad smile, showing her black,
+filed teeth and syrah-stained lips.
+
+The red and brown sarong which she wore twisted tightly up under her
+armpits had cost her almost a month's work; the green and yellow one
+her chief wore about his waist, a month more; the ones she used as
+screens to divide the interior into rooms, and those of the bevy
+of sons and daughters of all ages that crowded about us each cost
+a month's more; and yet the labor and material combined in each
+represented less than two dollars of our money at the Bazaar in
+Singapore.
+
+I had not the heart to take the one that she offered the mistress,
+but insisted on giving in exchange a pearl-handled penknife, which
+the chief took, with many a touch of his forehead, "as a remembrance
+of the condescension of the Orang American Rajah."
+
+Wahpering's wife was not dressed to receive us, for we had come swiftly
+up the dim lagoon, over which her home was built, and had landed
+on the sandy beach unannounced. Had she known that we were coming,
+she would have been dressed as became the wife of the Punghulo of
+Pulo Seneng (Island of Leisure). The long, black hair would have been
+washed beautifully clean with the juice of limes, and twisted up as a
+crown on the top of her head. In it would have been stuck pins of the
+deep-red gold from Mt. Ophir, and sprays of jasmine and chumpaka. Under
+her silken sarong would have been an inner garment of white cotton,
+about her waist a zone of beaded cloth held in front by an oval plate,
+and over all would have been thrown a long, loose dressing-gown, called
+the kabaya, falling to her knees and fastened down the front to the
+silver girdle with golden brooches. Her toes would have been covered
+with sandals cunningly embroidered in colored beads and gold tinsel.
+
+Wahpering, too, might have added to his sarong a thin vest, buttoned
+close up to the neck, a light dimity baju, or jacket, and a pair of
+loose silk drawers. They made no apology for their appearance, but
+did the honors of the house with a native grace, regaling us with
+the cool, fresh milk of the cocoanut, and the delicious globes of
+the mangosteens.
+
+The glare of the noonday sun, here on the equator, is inconceivable. It
+beats down in bald, irregular waves of heat that seem to stifle
+every living being and to burn the foliage to a cinder. Even the
+sharp, insistent whir of the cicada ceases when the thermometer on
+the sunny side of our palm-thatched bungalow reaches 155°. If I am
+forced to go outside, I don my cork helmet, and hold a paper umbrella
+above it. Even then, after I have gone a half-hour, I feel dizzy and
+sick. I pass native after native, whose only head covering, if they
+have any at all save their short-cut black hair, is a handkerchief,
+stiffened, and tied with a peculiar twist on the head, or a rimless
+cap with possibly a text of the Koran embroidered on its front. It is
+only when they are on the sea from early morning to sunset, that they
+think it worth while to protect their heads with an umbrella-shaped,
+cane-worked head frame like those worn by the natives of Siam and
+China. The women I meet simply draw their sarongs more closely about
+their heads as the sun ascends higher and higher into the heavens, and
+go clattering off down the road in their wooden pattens, unconscious
+of my envy or wonderment.
+
+The sarong is more to the Malay than is the kilt to the Scotchman. It
+is his dress by day and his covering at night. He uses it as a sail
+when far out from land in his cockle-shell boat, or as a bag in which
+to carry his provisions when following an elephant path through the
+dense jungle.
+
+The checks, in its design, although indistinguishable to the European,
+differ according to his tribe or clan, and serve him as a means of
+identification wherever he may be on the peninsula.
+
+The sarong and kris are distinctly and solely Malayan; they are shared
+with no other country; they are to be placed side by side with the
+green turban of the Moslem pilgrim and the cimeter of the Prophet.
+
+A history of one, like the history of the other, embraces all that
+is tragical or romantic in Malayan story.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE KRIS
+
+And how the Malays use it
+
+
+In an old dog-eared copy of Monteith's Geography, I remember a
+picture of a half-dozen pirate prahus attacking a merchantman off a
+jungle-bordered shore. A blazing sun hung high in the heavens above the
+fated ship, and, to my youthful imagination, seemed to beat down on the
+tropical scene with a fierce, remorseless intensity. The wedge-shaped
+tops of some palm-thatched and palm-shaded huts could just be seen,
+set well back from the shore.
+
+I used to think that if I were a boy on that ship, I would slip quietly
+overboard, swim ashore, and while the pirates were busy fighting,
+I would set fire to their homes and so deliver the ship from their
+clutches. Little did I know then of the acres of bewildering mangrove
+swamps filled with the treacherous crocodiles that lie between the
+low-water line and the firm ground of the coast.
+
+But always the most striking thing in the little woodcut to me were
+the curious, snake-like knives that the naked natives held in their
+hands. I had never seen anything like them before. I went to the
+encyclopædia and found that the name of the knife was spelled kris
+and pronounced creese.
+
+The day-dreams which seemed impossible in the days of Monteith's
+Geography have since been realized. I am living, perhaps, within
+sight of the very place where the scene of the picture was laid;
+for it was supposed to be illustrative of the Malay Peninsula;
+and, as I write, one of those snake-like krises lies on the table
+before me. It is a handsomer kris than those used by the actors in
+that much-studied picture of my youth. The sheath and handle are of
+solid gold--a rich yellow gold, mined at the foot of Mount Ophir,
+the very same mountain so famous in Bible history, from which King
+Solomon brought "gold, peacocks' feathers, and monkeys." The wavy,
+flame-like blade is veined with gold, and its dull silvery surface is
+damascened with as much care as was ever taken with the old swords
+of Damascus. It is only an inch in width and a foot in length and
+does not look half as dangerous as a Turkish cimeter; yet it has a
+history that would put that of the tomahawk or the scalping-knife
+to shame. Many a fat Chinaman, trading between the Java islands and
+Amoy, has felt its keen edge at his throat and seen his rich cargo
+of spices and bird's-nests rifled, his beloved Joss thrown overboard,
+and his queer old junk burnt before his eyes. Many a Dutch and English
+merchantman sailed from Batavia and Bombay in the days of the old East
+India Company and has never more been heard of until some mutilated
+survivor returned with a harrowing tale of Malay piracy and of the
+lightning-like work of the dreaded kris.
+
+I do not know whether my kris has ever taken life or not. Had it done
+so, I do not think the Sultan would have given it to me, for a kris
+becomes almost priceless after its baptism of blood. It is handed
+down from generation to generation, and its sanguine history becomes
+a part of the education of the young. Next to his Koran the kris
+is the most sacred thing the Malay possesses. He regards it with an
+almost superstitious reverence. My kris is dear to me, not from any
+superstitious reasons, but because it was given me by his Highness,
+the Sultan of Johore, the only independent sovereign on the peninsula,
+and because the gold of its sheath came from the jungle-covered slopes
+of Mount Ophir.
+
+The maker of the kris is a person of importance among the Malays,
+and ofttimes he is made by his grateful Rajah a Dato, or Lord, for
+his skill. Like the blades of the sturdy armorers of the Crusades,
+his blades are considered, as he fashions them from well-hammered and
+well-tempered Celebes iron, works of art and models for futurity. He
+is exceedingly punctilious in regard to their shape, size, and general
+formation, and the process of giving them their beautiful water lines
+is quite a ceremony. First the razor-like edges are covered with a
+thin coating of wax to protect them from the action of the acids;
+then a mixture of boiled rice, sulphur, and salt is put on the blade
+and left for seven days until a film of rust rises to the surface. The
+blade is then immersed in the water of a young cocoanut or the juice
+of a pineapple and left seven days longer. It is next brushed with
+the juice of a lemon until all the rust is cleared away, and then
+rubbed with arsenic dissolved in lime-juice and washed with cold
+spring water. Finally it is anointed with cocoanut oil, and as a
+concluding test of its fineness and temper, it is said that in the
+old days its owner would rush out into the kampong, or village,
+and stab the first person he met.
+
+The sheath of the kris is generally made of kamooning wood, but often
+of ivory, gold, or silver. The handle, while more frequently of wood
+or buffalo horn, is sometimes of gold studded with precious stones and
+worth more than all the other possessions of its owner put together.
+
+The kris, too, has its etiquette. It is always worn on the left side
+stuck into the folds of the sarong, or skirt, the national dress of
+the Malay. During an interview it is considered respectful to conceal
+it; and its handle is turned with its point close to the body of the
+wearer, if the wearer be friendly. If, however, there is ill blood
+existing, and the wearer is angry, the kris is exposed, and the point
+of the handle turned the reverse way.
+
+The kris as a weapon of offence and defence is now almost a thing
+of the past. It is rapidly going the way of the tomahawk and the
+boomerang--into the collector's cabinet. There is a law in Singapore
+that forbids its being worn, and outside of Johore and the native
+states it is seldom seen. It is still used as an executioner's knife
+by the protected Sultan of Selangor, its keen point being driven
+into the heart of the victim; but in a few years that practice, too,
+will be abolished by the humane intervention of the English government.
+
+It is to be hoped that the record of the kris is not as bad as it
+has been painted by some, and that at times in its bloody career it
+has been on the side of justice and right. The part it took in the
+piracy that once made the East Indian seas so famous was not always
+done for the sake of gain, but often for revenge and for independence.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WHITE RAJAH OF BORNEO
+
+The Founding of Sarawak
+
+
+In the East Indian seas, by Europeans and natives alike, two names
+are revered with a singleness and devotion that place them side by
+side with the national heroes of all countries.
+
+The men that bear the names are Englishmen, yet the countless islands
+of the vast Malayan archipelago are populated by a hundred European,
+African, and Asiatic races.
+
+Sir Stamford Raffles founded the great city of Singapore, and Sir
+James Brooke, the "White Rajah," carved out of a tropical wilderness
+just across the equator, in Borneo, the kingdom of Sarawak.
+
+There is no one man in all history with whom you may compare Rajah
+Brooke. His career was the score of a hero of the footlights or of
+the dime novel rather than the life of an actual history-maker in
+this prosaic nineteenth century. What is true of him is also true in
+a less degree of his famous nephew and successor, Sir Charles Brooke,
+G. C. M. C., the present Rajah.
+
+One morning in Singapore, as I sipped my tea and broke open one cool,
+delicious mangosteen after another, I was reading in the daily Straits
+Times an account of the descent of a band of head-hunting Dyaks from
+the jungles of the Rejang River in Borneo on an isolated fishing
+kampong, or village,--of how they killed men, women, and children,
+and carried their heads back to their strongholds in triumph, and of
+how, in the midst of their feasting and ceremonies, Rajah Brooke,
+with a little company of fierce native soldiery, had surprised and
+exterminated them to the last man; and just then the sound of heavy
+cannonading in the harbor below caused me to drop my paper.
+
+In a moment the great guns from Fort Canning answered. I
+counted--seventeen--and turned inquiringly to the naked punkah-wallah,
+who stood just outside in the shade of the wide veranda, listlessly
+pulling the rattan rope that moved the stiff fan above me.
+
+His brown, open palm went respectfully to his forehead.
+
+"His Highness, the Rajah of Sarawak," he answered proudly in Malay. "He
+come in gunboat Raneé to the Gymkhana races,--bring gold cup for
+prizes and fast runners. Come every year, Tuan."
+
+I had forgotten that it was the first day of the long-looked-for
+Gymkhana races. A few hours later I met this remarkable man, whose
+thrilling exploits had commanded my earliest boyish admiration.
+
+The kindly old Sultan of Johore, the old rebel Sultan of Pahang,
+the Sultan of Lingae, in all the finery of their native silks and
+jewels, the nobles of their courts, and a dozen other dignitaries,
+were on the grandstand and in the paddock as we entered, yet no
+one but a modest, gray-haired little man by the side of the English
+governor had any place in my thoughts. We knew his history. It was
+as romantic as the wild careers of Pizarro and Cortez; as charming
+as those of Robinson Crusoe and the dear old Swiss Family Robinson;
+as tragic as Captain Kidd's or Morgan's; and withal, it was modelled
+after our own Washington. In him I saw the full realization of every
+boy's wildest dreams,--a king of a tropical island.
+
+The bell above the judges' pavilion sounded, and a little whirlwind
+of running griffins dashed by amid the yells of a thousand natives
+in a dozen different tongues. The Rajah leaned out over the gayly
+decorated railing with the eagerness of a boy, as he watched his own
+colors in the thick of the race.
+
+The surging mass of nakedness below caught sight of him, and another
+yell rent the air, quite distinct from the first, for Malayan and
+Kling, Tamil and Siamese, Dyak and Javanese, Hindu, Bugis, Burmese,
+and Lascar, recognized the famous White Rajah of Borneo, the man who,
+all unaided, had broken the power of the savage head-hunting Dyaks,
+and driven from the seas the fierce Malayan pirates. The yell was
+not a cheer. It was a tribute that a tiger might make to his tamer.
+
+The Rajah understood. He was used to such sinister outbursts of
+admiration, for he never took his eyes from the course. He was secure
+on his throne now, but I could not but wonder if that yell, which sent
+a strange thrill through me, did not bring up recollections of one of
+the hundred sanguinary scenes through which he and his great uncle, the
+elder Rajah Brooke, had gone when fighting for their lives and kingdom.
+
+The Sultan of Johore's griffin won, and the Rajah stepped back to
+congratulate him. I, too, passed over to where he stood, and the
+kindly old Sultan took me by the hand.
+
+"I have a very tender spot in my heart for all Americans," the Rajah
+replied to his Highness's introduction. "It was your great republic
+that first recognized the independence of Sarawak."
+
+As we chatted over the triumph of Gladstone, the silver bill,
+the tariff, and a dozen topics of the day, I was thinking of the
+head-hunters of whom I had read in the morning paper. I was thinking,
+too, of how this man's uncle had, years before, with a boat's crew
+of English boys, carved out of an unknown island a principality
+larger than the state of New York, reduced its savage population
+to orderly tax-paying citizens, cleared the Borneo and Java seas
+of their thousands of pirate praus, and in their place built up a
+merchant fleet and a commerce of nearly five millions of dollars a
+year. The younger Rajah, too, had done his share in the making of
+the state. In his light tweed suit and black English derby, he did
+not look the strange, impossible hero of romance I had painted him;
+but there was something in his quiet, clear, well-bred English accent,
+and the strong, deep lines about his eyes and mouth, that impressed
+one with a consciousness of tremendous reserve force. He spoke always
+slowly, as though wearied by early years of fighting and exposure in
+the searching heat of the Bornean sun.
+
+We became better acquainted later at balls and dinners, and he was
+never tired of thanking me for my country's kindness.
+
+
+
+In 1819, when the English took Malacca and the Malay peninsula from
+the Dutch, they agreed to surrender all claims to the islands south
+of the pirate-infested Straits of Malacca.
+
+The Dutch, contented with the fabulously rich island of Java and its
+twenty-six millions of mild-mannered natives, left the great islands
+of Sumatra, Borneo, and Papua to the savage rulers and savage nations
+that held them.
+
+The son of an English clergyman, on a little schooner, with a friend or
+two and a dozen sailors, sailed into these little known and dangerous
+waters one day nineteen years later. His mind was filled with dreams of
+an East-Indian empire; he was burning to emulate Cortez and Pizarro,
+without practising their abuses. He had entered the English army and
+had been so dangerously wounded while leading a charge in India after
+his superiors had fallen that he had been retired on a pension before
+his twenty-first year.  While regaining his health, he had travelled
+through India, Malaya, and China, and had written a journal of his
+wanderings. During this period his ambitions were crowding him on to
+an enterprise that was as foolhardy as the first voyage of Columbus.
+
+He had spied those great tropical islands that touched the equator,
+and he coveted them.
+
+After his father's death he invested his little fortune in a schooner,
+and in spite of all the protests and prayers of his family and friends,
+he sailed for Singapore, and thence across to the northwest coast of
+Borneo, landing at Kuching, on the Sarawak River, in 1838.
+
+He had no clearly outlined plan of operations,--he was simply waiting
+his chance. The province of Sarawak, a dependency of the Sultan of
+Borneo, was governed by an old native rajah, whose authority was
+menaced by the fierce, head-hunting Dyaks of the interior.  Brooke's
+chance had come. He boldly offered to put down the rebellion if the
+Rajah would make him his general and second to the throne. The Rajah
+cunningly accepted the offer, eager to let the hair-brained young
+infidel annoy his foes, but with no intention of keeping his promise.
+
+After days of marching with his little crew and a small army of
+natives, through the almost impenetrable rubber jungles, after a
+dozen hard-fought battles and deeds of personal heroism, any one
+of which would make a story, the head-hunters were crushed and some
+kind of order restored. He refused to allow the Rajah to torture the
+prisoners,--thereby winning their gratitude,--and he refused to be
+dismissed from his office. He had won his rank, and he appealed to
+the Sultan. The wily Sultan recognized that in this stranger he had
+found a man who would be able to collect his revenue, and much to
+Brooke's surprise, a courier entered Kuching, the capital, one day
+and summarily dismissed the native Rajah and proclaimed the young
+Englishman Rajah of Sarawak.
+
+Brooke was a king at last. His empire was before him, but he was
+only king because the reigning Sultan relinquished a part of his
+dominions that he was unable to control. The tasks to be accomplished
+before he could make his word law were ones that England, Holland,
+and the navies of Europe had shirked. His so-called subjects were
+the most notorious and daring pirates in the history of the world;
+they were head-hunters, they practised slavery, and they were cruel
+and blood-thirsty on land and sea. Out of such elements this boy king
+built his kingdom. How he did it would furnish tales that would outdo
+Verne, Kingston, and Stevenson.
+
+He abolished military marauding and every form of slavery, established
+courts, missions, and school houses, and waged war, single-handed,
+against head-hunting and piracy.
+
+Head-hunting is to the Dyaks what amok is to the Malays or scalping to
+the American Indians. It is even more. No Dyak woman would marry a man
+who could not decorate their home with at least one human head. Often
+bands of Dyaks, numbering from five to seven thousand, would sally
+forth from their fortifications and cruise along the coast four or
+five hundred miles, to surprise a village and carry the inhabitants'
+heads back in triumph.
+
+To-day head-hunting is practically stamped out, as is running amok
+among the Malays, although cases of each occur from time to time.
+
+As his subjects in the jungles were head-hunters, so those of the
+coast were pirates. Every harbor was a pirate haven. They lived
+in big towns, possessed forts and cannon, and acknowledged neither
+the suzerainty of the Sultan or the domination of the Dutch. They
+were stronger than the native rulers, and no European nation would
+go to the great expense of life and treasure needed to break their
+power. Brooke knew that his title would be but a mockery as long as
+the pirates commanded the mouths of all his rivers.
+
+With his little schooner, armed with three small guns and manned by
+a crew of white companions and Dyak sailors, he gave battle first
+to the weaker strongholds, gradually attaching the defeated to his
+standard. He found himself at the end of nine years their master and
+a king in something more than name. Combined with the qualities of
+a fearless fighter, he had the faculty of winning the good will and
+admiration of his foes.
+
+The fierce Suloos and Illanums became his fast friends. He left their
+chiefs in power, but punished every outbreak with a merciless hand.
+
+One of the many incidents of his checkered career shows that his spirit
+was all-powerful among them. He had invited the Chinese from Amoy to
+take up their residence at his capital, Kuching. They were traders
+and merchants, and soon built up a commerce. They became so numerous
+in time that they believed they could seize the government. The plot
+was successful, and during a night attack they overcame the Rajah's
+small guard, and he escaped to the river in his pajamas without a
+single follower.
+
+Sir Charles told me one day, as we conversed on the broad veranda
+of the consulate, that that night was the darkest in all his great
+uncle's stormy life. The hopes and work of years were shattered at
+a single blow, and he was an outcast with a price on his head.
+
+The homeless king knelt in the bottom of the prau and prayed for
+strength, and then took up the oars and pulled silently toward
+the ocean. Near morning he was abreast of one of the largest Suloo
+forts--the home of his bitterest and bravest foes.
+
+He turned the head of his boat to the shore and landed unarmed and
+undressed among the pirates. He surrendered his life, his throne,
+and his honor, into their keeping.
+
+They listened silently, and then their scarred old chief stepped
+forward and placed a naked kris in the white man's hand and kissed
+his feet.
+
+Before the sun went down that day the White Rajah was on his throne
+again, and ten thousand grim, fierce Suloos were hunting the Chinese
+like a pack of bloodhounds.
+
+In 1848 Rajah Brooke decided to visit his old home in England, and
+ask his countrymen for teachers and missions. His fame had preceded
+him. All England was alive to his great deeds. There were greetings by
+enthusiastic crowds wherever he appeared, banquets by boards of trade,
+and gifts of freedom of cities. He was lodged in Balmoral Castle,
+knighted by the Queen, made Consul-General of Borneo, Governor of
+Labuan, Doctor of Laws by Oxford, and was the lion of the hour.
+
+He returned to Sarawak, accompanied by European officers and friends,
+to carry on his great work of civilization, and to make of his little
+tropical kingdom a recognized power.
+
+He died in 1868, and was carried back to England for burial, and I
+predict that at no distant day a grateful people will rise up and
+ask of England his body, that it may be laid to rest in the yellow
+sands under the graceful palms of the unknown nation of which he was
+the Washington.
+
+His nephew, Sir Charles Brooke, who had also been his faithful
+companion for many years, succeeded him.
+
+Sarawak has to-day a coast-line of over four hundred miles, with an
+area of fifty thousand square miles, and a population of three hundred
+thousand souls. The country produces gold, silver, diamonds, antimony,
+quicksilver, coal, gutta-percha, rubber, canes, rattan, camphor,
+beeswax, edible bird's-nests, sago, tapioca, pepper, and tobacco, all
+of which find their way to Singapore, and thence to Europe and America.
+
+The Rajah is absolute head of the state; but he is advised by
+a legislative council composed of two Europeans and five native
+chiefs. He has a navy of a number of small but effective gunboats,
+and a well-trained and officered army of several hundred men, who look
+after the wild tribes of the interior of Borneo and guard the great
+coast-line from piratical excursions; otherwise they would be useless,
+as his rule is almost fatherly, and he is dearly beloved by his people.
+
+It is impossible in one short sketch to relate a tenth of the daring
+deeds and startling adventures of these two white rajahs. Their lives
+have been written in two bulky volumes, and the American boy who loves
+stories that rival his favorite authors of adventure will find them by
+going to the library and asking for the "Life of the Rajah of Sarawak."
+
+There is much in this "Life" that might be read by our statesmen
+and philanthropists with profit; for the building of a kingdom in a
+jungle of savage men and savage beasts places the name of Brooke of
+Borneo among those of the world's great men, as it does among those
+of the heroes of adventure.
+
+One evening we were pacing back and forth on the deck of the Rajah's
+magnificent gunboat, the Raneé. A soft tropical breeze was blowing off
+shore. Thousands of lights from running rickshas and bullock carts
+were dancing along the wide esplanade that separates the city of
+Singapore from the sea. The strange old-world cries from the natives
+came out to us in a babel of sound.
+
+Chinese in sampans and Malays in praus were gliding about our bows and
+back and forth between the great foreign men-of-war that overshadowed
+us. The Orient was on every hand, and I looked wonderingly at the
+slightly built, gray-haired man at my side, with a feeling that he
+had stepped from out some wild South Sea tale.
+
+"Your Highness," I said, as we chatted, "tell me how you made subjects
+out of pirates and head-hunters, when our great nation, with all its
+power and gold, has only been able after one hundred years to make
+paupers out of our Indians."
+
+"Do you see that man?" he replied, pointing to a stalwart, brown-faced
+Dyak, who in the blue and gold uniform of Sarawak was leaning idly
+against the bulwarks. "That is the Dato (Lord) Imaum, Judge of the
+Supreme Court of Sarawak. He was one of the most redoubtable of
+the Suloo pirates. My uncle fought him for eight years. In all that
+time he never broke his word in battle or in truce. When Sir James
+was driven from his throne by the Chinese, the Dato Imaum fought to
+reinstate him as his master.
+
+"Civilization is only skin deep, and so is barbarism. Had your country
+never broken its word and been as just as it is powerful, your red
+men would have been to-day where our brown men are--our equals."
+
+An hour later I stepped into my launch, which was lying alongside. The
+American flag at the peak came down, and the guns of the Raneé belched
+forth the consular salute.
+
+I instinctively raised my hat as we glided over the phosphorescent
+waters of the harbor, for in my thoughts I was still in the presence
+of one of the great ones of the earth.
+
+
+
+
+
+AMOK!
+
+A Malayan Story
+
+
+If you run amok in Malaya, you may perhaps kill your enemy or wound
+your dearest friend, but you may be certain that in the end you will
+be krissed like a pariah dog. Every man, woman, and child will turn
+his or her hand against you, from the mother who bore you to the
+outcast you have befriended. The laws are as immutable as fate.
+
+Just where the great river Maur empties its vast volume of red water
+across a shifting bar into the Straits of Malacca, stands the kampong
+of Bander Maharani.
+
+The Sultan Abubaker named the village in honor of his dead Sultana,
+and here, close down to the bank, was the palace of his nephew--the
+Governor, Prince Sulliman.
+
+A wide, red, well-paved road separated the village of thatch and
+grass from the palace grounds, and ended at a wharf, up to which a
+steam-launch would dash from time to time, startling the half-grown
+crocodiles that slept beneath the rickety timbers.
+
+Sometimes the little Prince Mat, the son of the Governor, came down to
+the wharf and played with the children of the captain of the launch,
+while his Tuan Penager, or Teacher, dozed beneath his yellow umbrella;
+and often, at their play, his Excellency would pause and watch them,
+smiling kindly.
+
+At such times, the captain of the launch would fall upon his face, and
+thank the Prophet that he had lived to see that day. "For," he would
+say, "some day he may speak to me, and ask me for the wish I treasure."
+
+Then he would go back to his work, polishing the brass on the railings
+of his boat, regardless of the watchful eyes that blinked at him from
+the mud beneath the wharf.
+
+He smiled contentedly, for his mind was made up. He would not ask to
+be made master of the Sultan's marvellous yacht, that was sent out
+from Liverpool,--although the possibility made him catch his breath:
+he would ask nothing for himself,--he would ask that his Excellency
+let his son Noa go to Mecca, that he might become a hadji and then
+some day--who knows--Noa might become a kateeb in the attap-thatched
+mosque back of the palace.
+
+And Noa, unmindful of his father's dreaming, played with the little
+Prince, kicking the ragga ball, or sailing miniature praus out into
+the river, and off toward the shimmering straits. But often they
+sat cross-legged and dropped bits of chicken and fruit between the
+palm sleepers of the wharf to the birch-colored crocodiles below,
+who snapped them up, one after another, never taking their small,
+cruel eyes off the brown faces that peered down at them.
+
+Child-life is measured by a few short years in Malaya. The hot,
+moist air and the fierce rays of the equatorial sun fall upon child
+and plant alike, and they grow so fast that you can almost hear them!
+
+The little Prince soon forgot his childhood companions in the gorgeous
+court of his Highness, the Sultan of Johore, and Noa took the place
+of his father on the launch, while the old man silently mourned as he
+leaned back in its stern, and alternately watched the sunlight that
+played along the carefully polished rails, and the deepening shadows
+that bound the black labyrinth of mangrove roots on the opposite
+shore. The Governor had never noted his repeated protestations and
+deep-drawn sighs.
+
+"But who cares," he thought. "It is the will of Allah! The Prince
+will surely remember us when he returns."
+
+On the very edge of Bander Maharani, just where the almost endless
+miles of betel-nut palms shut from view the yellow turrets of the
+palace, stood the palm-thatched bungalow in which Anak grew, in a
+few short years, from childhood to womanhood. The hot, sandy soil all
+about was covered with the flaxen burs of the betel, and the little
+sunlight that found its way down through the green and yellow fronds
+drew rambling checks on the steaming earth, that reminded Anak of
+the plaid on the silken sarong that Noa's father had given her the
+day she was betrothed to his son.
+
+Up the bamboo ladder and into the little door,--so low that even Anak,
+with her scant twelve years, was forced to stoop,--she would dart when
+she espied Noa coming sedately down the long aisle of palms that led
+away to the fungus-covered canal that separated her little world from
+the life of the capital city.
+
+There was coquetry in every glance, as she watched him, from behind
+the carved bars of her low window, drop contentedly down on the bench
+beneath a scarred old cocoanut that stood directly before the door. She
+thought almost angrily that he ought to have searched a little for her:
+she would have repaid him with her arms about his neck.
+
+From the cool darkness of the bungalow came the regular click of her
+mother's loom. She could see the worker's head surrounded by a faint
+halo of broken twilight. Her mind filled in the details that were
+hidden by the green shadows--the drawn, stooping figure, the scant
+black hair, the swollen gums, the syrah-stained teeth, and sunken
+neck. She impulsively ran her soft brown fingers over her own warm,
+plump face, through the luxuriant tresses of her heavy hair, and then
+gazed out at the recumbent figure on the bench, waiting patiently
+for her coming.
+
+"Soon my teeth, which the American lady that was visiting his
+Excellency said were so strong and beautiful, will be filed and
+blackened, and I will be weaving sarongs for Noa."
+
+She shuddered, she knew not why, and went slowly across the elastic
+bamboo strips of the floor and down the ladder.
+
+Noa watched the trim little figure with its single covering of cotton,
+the straight, graceful body, and perfectly poised head and delicate
+neck, the bare feet and ankles, the sweet, comely face with its fresh
+young lips, free from the red stains of the syrah leaf, and its big
+brown eyes that looked from beneath heavy silken lashes. He smiled,
+but did not stir as she came to him. He was proud of her after
+the manner of his kind. Her beauty appealed to him unconsciously,
+although he had never been taught to consider beauty, or even seek
+it. He would have married her without a question, if she had been as
+hideous as his sister, who was scarred with the small-pox. He would
+never have complained if, according to Malayan custom, he had not
+been permitted to have seen her until the marriage day. He must marry
+some one, now that the Prince had gone to Johore, and his father had
+given up all hope of seeing him a hadji; and besides, the captain of
+the launch and the old punghulo, or chief, Anak's father, were fast
+friends. The marriage meant little more to the man.
+
+But to Anak,--once the Prince Mat had told her she was pretty, when
+she had come down to the wharf to beg a small crocodile to bury
+underneath her grandmother's bungalow to keep off white ants, and
+her cheeks glowed yet under her brown skin at the remembrance. Noa
+had never told her she was beautiful!
+
+A featherless hen was scratching in the yellow sand at her feet, and a
+brood of featherless chicks were following each cluck with an intensity
+of interest that left them no time to watch the actions of the lovers.
+
+"Why did you come?" she asked in the soft liquid accents of her people.
+
+There was an eagerness in the question that suggested its own answer.
+
+"To bring a message to the punghulo," he replied, not noticing the
+coquetry of the look.
+
+"Oh! then you are in haste. Why do you wait? My father is at the
+canal."
+
+"It is about you," he went on, his face glowing. "The Prince is coming
+back, and we are to be married. My father, the captain, made bold
+to ask his Excellency to let the Prince be present, and he granted
+our prayer."
+
+She turned away to hide her disappointment. It was the thought of
+the honor that was his in the eyes of the province, and not that
+he was to marry her, that set the lights dancing in his eyes! She
+hated him then for his very love; it was so sure and confident in
+its right to overlook hers in this petty attention from a mere boy,
+who had once condescended to praise her girlish beauty.
+
+"When is the Prince coming?" she questioned, ignoring his clumsy
+attempt to take her hand.
+
+"During the feast of Hari Raya Hadji," he replied, smiling.
+
+She kicked some sand with her bare toes, amongst the garrulous
+chickens.
+
+"Tell me about the Prince."
+
+Her mood had changed. Her eyes were wide open, and her face
+all aglow. She was wondering if he would notice her above the
+bridesmaids,--if it was not for her sake he was coming?
+
+And then her lover told her of the gossip of the palace,--of the
+Prince's life in the Sultan's court,--of his wit and grace,--of how
+he had learned English, and was soon to go to London, where he would
+be entertained by the Queen.
+
+Above their heads the wind played with the tattered flags of the palms,
+leaving openings here and there that exposed the steely-white glare
+of the sky, and showed, far away to the northward, the denuded red
+dome of Mount Ophir.
+
+The girl noted the clusters of berries showing redly against the
+dark green of some pepper-vines that clambered up the black nebong
+posts of her home; she wondered vaguely as he talked if she were to
+go on through life seeing pepper-vines and betel-nut trees, and hot
+sand and featherless hens, and never get beyond the shadow of the
+mysterious mountains.
+
+Possibly it was the sight of the white ladies from Singapore, possibly
+it was the few light words dropped by the half-grown Prince, possibly
+it was something within herself,--something inherited from ancestors
+who had lived when the fleets of Solomon and Hiram sought for gold
+and ivory at the base of the distant mountains,--that drove her to
+revolt, and led her to question the right of this marriage that was
+to seal her forever to the attap bungalow, and the narrow, colorless
+life that awaited her on the banks of the Maur. She turned fiercely
+on her wooer, and her brown eyes flashed.
+
+"You have never asked me whether I love!"
+
+The Malay half rose from his seat. The look of surprise and perplexity
+that had filled his face gave place to one of almost childish wonder.
+
+"Of course you love me. Is it not so written in the Koran,--a wife
+shall reverence her husband?"
+
+"Why?" she questioned angrily.
+
+He paused a moment, trying dimly to comprehend the question, and then
+answered slowly,--
+
+"Because it is written."
+
+She did not draw away when he took her hand; he had chosen his answer
+better than he knew.
+
+"Because it is written," that was all. Her own feeble revolt was but
+as a breath of air among the yellow fronds above their heads.
+
+When Noa had gone, the girl drew herself wearily up the ladder, and
+dropped on a cool palm mat near the never ceasing loom. For almost
+the first time in her short, uneventful life she fell to thinking
+of herself. She wondered if the white ladies in Singapore married
+because all had been arranged by a father who forgot you the moment
+you disappeared within the door of your own house,--if they loved one
+man better than another,--if they could always marry the one they
+liked best. She wondered why every one must be married,--why could
+she not go on and live just as she had,--she could weave and sew?
+
+A gray lizard darted from out its hiding-place in the attap at a
+great atlas moth which worked its brilliant wings; clumsily it tore
+their delicate network until the air was full of a golden dust.
+
+"I am the moth," she said softly, and raised her hand too late to
+save it from its enemy.
+
+The Sultan's own yacht, the Pante, brought the Prince back to Maur,
+and as it was low tide, the Governor's launch went out beyond the
+bar and met him.
+
+The band played the national anthem when he landed on the pier,
+and Inchi Mohammed, the Tuan Hakim, or Chief Justice, made a speech.
+
+The red gravel walk from the landing to the palace gate was strewn
+with hibiscus and alamander and yellow convolvulus flowers, and
+bordered with the delicate maidenhair fern.
+
+Johore and British flags hung in great festoons from the deep
+verandas of the palace, and the brass guns from the fort gave forth
+the royal salute.
+
+Anak was in the crowd with her father, the old chief, and her
+affianced, Noa. She had put on her silk sarong and kabaya, and some
+curious gold brooches that were her mother's. In her coal-black hair
+she had stuck some sprays of the sweet-smelling chumpaka flower. On her
+slender bare feet were sandals cunningly wrought in colored beads. Her
+soft brown eyes glowed with excitement, and she edged away from the
+punghulo's side until she stood close up in front, so near that she
+could almost touch the sarong of the Tuan Hakim as he read.
+
+The Prince had grown so since he left that she scarcely knew him,
+and save for the narrow silk sarong about his waist, he was dressed
+in the English clothes of a Lieutenant of his Highness's artillery. In
+the front of his rimless cap shone the arms of Johore set in diamonds,
+exactly as his father, the Governor, wore them. He paused and smiled
+as he thanked the cringing Tuan Hakim.
+
+The blood rushed to the girl's cheeks, and she nearly fell down at
+his feet. She realized but dimly that Noa was plucking at her kabaya,
+wishing her to go with him to see the bungalow that his father was
+building for them.
+
+"The posts are to be of polished nebong" he was saying, "the wood-work
+of maranti wood from Pahang; and there is to be a cote, ever so
+cunningly woven of green and yellow bamboo, for your ring-doves,
+under the attap of the great eaves above the door."
+
+She turned wearily toward her lover, and the bright look faded from
+her comely face. With a half-uttered sigh she drew off her sandals
+and tucked them carefully beneath the silver zone that held her sarong
+in place.
+
+"Anak," he said softly, as they left the hot, red streets, filled
+with lumbering bullock-carts and omnipresent rickshas, "why do you
+look away when I talk of our marriage? Is it because the Koran teaches
+modesty in woman, or is it because you are over-proud of your husband
+when you see him among other men?"
+
+But the girl was not listening.
+
+He looked at her keenly, and as he saw the red blood mantle her cheek,
+he smiled and went on:--
+
+"It was good of you to wear the sarong I gave you, and your best
+kabaya and the flowers I like in your hair. I heard more than one
+say that it showed you would make a good wife in spite of our knowing
+one another before marriage."
+
+"You think that it was for you that I put on all this bravery?" she
+asked, looking him straight in the face. "Am I not to be your wife? Can
+I not dress in honor of the young Prince and--Allah?"
+
+He turned to stammer a reply. The hot blood mounted to his temples,
+and he grasped the girl's arm so that she cried out with pain.
+
+"You are to be my wife, and I your master. It is my wish that you
+should ever dress in honor of our rulers and our Allah, for in showing
+honor to those above you, you honor your husband. I do not understand
+you at all times, but I intend that you shall understand me. Sudah!"
+
+"Tuan Allah Suka!" (The Lord Allah has willed it), she murmured,
+and they plodded on through the hot sand in silence.
+
+After his return they saw the Prince often, and once when Anak came
+down to the wharf to bring a durian to the captain of the launch
+from her father, the old punghulo, she met him face to face, and he
+touched her cheek with his jewelled fingers, and said she had grown
+much prettier since he left.
+
+Noa was not angry at the Prince, rather he was proud of his notice,
+but a sinister light burned in his eyes as he saw the flushed face
+and drooping head of the girl.
+
+And once the Prince passed by the punghulo's home on his way into
+the jungle in search of a tiger, and inquired for his daughter. Anak
+treasured the remembrance of these little attentions, and pondered
+over them day after day, as she worked by her mother's side at the
+loom, or sat outside in the sand, picking the flossy burs from the
+betel-nuts, watching the flickering shadows that every breeze in the
+leaves above scattered in prodigal wastefulness about and over her.
+
+She told herself over and over, as she followed with dreamy eyes the
+vain endeavors of a chameleon to change his color, as the shadows
+painted the sand beneath him first green and then white, that her own
+hopes and strivings were just as futile; and yet when Noa would sit
+beside her and try to take her hand, she would fly into a passion,
+and run sobbing up the ladder of her home. Noa became moody in
+turn. His father saw it and his mates chaffed him, but no one guessed
+the cause. That it should be for the sake of a woman would have been
+beyond belief; for did not the Koran say, "If thy wife displease thee,
+beat her until she see the sin of her ways"? One day, as he thought,
+it occurred to him, "She does not want to marry me!" and he asked her,
+as though it made any difference. There were tears in her eyes, but
+she only threw back her head and laughed, and replied as she should:--
+
+"That is no concern of ours. Is your father, the captain, displeased
+with my father's, the punghulo's, dowry?"
+
+And yet Noa felt that Anak knew what he would have said.
+
+He went away angry, but with a gnawing at his heart that frightened
+him,--a strange, new sickness, that seemed to drive him from despair
+to a longing for revenge, with the coming and going of each quick
+breath. He had been trying to make love in a blind, stumbling way;
+he did not know it,--why should he? Marriage was but a bargain in
+Malaya. But Anak with her finer instincts felt it, and instead of
+fanning this tiny, unknown spark, she was driving it into other and
+baser channels.
+
+In spite of her better nature she was slowly making a demon out of a
+lover,--a lover to whom but a few months before she would have given
+freely all her love for a smile or the lightest of compliments.
+
+From that day until the day of the marriage she never spoke to her
+lover save in the presence of her elders,--for such was the law of
+her race.
+
+She submitted to the tire-women who were to prepare her for the
+ceremony, uttering no protest as they filed off her beautiful white
+teeth and blackened them with lime, nor when they painted the palms of
+her hands and the nails of her fingers and toes red with henna. She
+showed no interest in the arranging of her glossy black hair with
+jewelled pins and chumpaka flowers, or in the draping of her sarong
+and kabaya. Only her lacerated gums ached until one tear after another
+forced its way from between her blackened lids down her rouged cheeks.
+
+There had been feasting all day outside under the palms, and the
+youths, her many cousins, had kicked the ragga ball, while the elders
+sat about and watched and talked and chewed betel-nut. There were
+great rice curries on brass plates, with forty sambuls> within easy
+reach of all, luscious mangosteens, creamy durians and mangoes, and
+betel-nuts with lemon leaves and lime and spices. Fires burned about
+among the graceful palms at night, and lit up the silken sarongs and
+polished kris handles of the men, and gold-run kabayas of the women.
+
+The Prince came as he promised, just as the old Kadi had pronounced
+the couple man and wife, and laid at Anak's feet a wide gold bracelet
+set with sapphires, and engraven with the arms of Johore. He dropped
+his eyes to conceal the look of pity and abhorrence that her swollen
+gums and disfigured features inspired, and as he passed across the
+mats on the bamboo floor he inwardly cursed the customs of his people
+that destroyed the beauty of its women. He had lived among the English
+of Singapore, and dined at the English Governor's table.
+
+A groan escaped the girl's lips as she dropped back among the cushions
+of her tinsel throne. Noa saw the little tragedy, and for the first
+time understood its full import. He ground his teeth together, and
+his hand worked uneasily along the scabbard of his kris.
+
+In another moment the room was empty, and the bride and groom were left
+side by side on the gaudily bedecked platform, to mix and partake of
+their first betel-nut together. Mechanically Noa picked the broken
+fragments of the nut from its brass cup, from another a syrah leaf
+smeared with lime, added a clove, a cardamom, and a scraping of mace,
+and handed it to his bride. She took it without raising her eyes, and
+placed it against her bleeding gums. In a moment a bright red juice
+oozed from between her lips and ran down the corner of her distorted
+mouth. Noa extended his hand, and she gave him the half-masticated
+mass. He raised it to his own mouth, and then for the first time
+looked the girl full in the face.
+
+There was no love-light in the drooping brown eyes before him. The
+syrah-stained lips were slightly parted, exposing the feverish gums,
+and short, black teeth. Her hands hung listlessly by her side, and
+only for the color that came and went beneath the rouge of her brown
+cheeks, she might have been dead to this last sacred act of their
+marriage vows.
+
+"Anak!" he said slowly, drawing closer to her side. "Anak, I will be
+a true husband to you. You shall be my only wife--"
+
+He paused, expecting some response, but she only gazed stolidly up
+at the smoke-begrimed attap of the roof.
+
+"Anak--" he repeated, and then a shudder passed through him, and his
+eyes lit up with a wild, frenzied gleam,
+
+A moment he paused irresolute, and then with a spring he grasped the
+golden handle of his kris and with one bound was across the floor,
+and on the sand below among the revellers.
+
+For an instant the snake-like blade of the kris shone dully in the
+firelight above his head, and then with a yell that echoed far out
+among the palms, it descended straight into the heart of the nearest
+Malay.
+
+The hot life-blood spurted out over his hand and naked arm, and dyed
+the creamy silk of his wedding baju a dark red.
+
+Once more he struck, as he chanted a promise from the Koran, and the
+shrill, agonized cry of a woman broke upon the ears of the astonished
+guests.
+
+Then the fierce sinister yell of "Amok! amok!" drowned the woman's
+moans, and sent every Malay's hand to the handle of his kris.
+
+"Amok!" sprang from every man's lips, while women and children, and
+those too aged to take part in the wild saturnalia of blood that was
+to follow, scattered like doves before a hawk.
+
+With the rapidity of a Malayan tiger, the crazed man leaped from
+one to another, dealing deadly strokes with his merciless weapon,
+right and left. There was no gleam of pity or recognition in his
+insane glance when he struck down the sister he had played with from
+childhood, neither did he note that his father's hand had dealt the
+blow that dropped his right arm helpless to his side. Only a cry of
+baffled rage and hate escaped his lips, as he snatched his falling
+knife with his left hand. Another blow, and his father fell across
+the quivering body of his sister.
+
+"O Allah, the all-merciful and loving kind!" he sang, as the blows
+rained upon his face and breast. "O Allah, the compassionate."
+
+The golden handle of his kris shone like a dying coal in the centre
+of a circle of flamelike knives; then with one wild plunge forward,
+into the midst of the gleaming points, it went out.
+
+"Sudah!--It is finished," and a Malay raised his steel-bladed limbing
+to thrust it into the bare breast of the dying man.
+
+The young Prince stepped out into the firelight and raised his
+hand. The long, shrill wail of a tiger from far off toward Mount
+Ophir seemed to pulsate and quiver on the weird stillness of the night.
+
+Noa opened his eyes. They were the eyes of a child, and a faint,
+sweet smile flickered across the ghastly features and died away in
+a spasm of pain.
+
+A picture of their childhood days flashed through the mind of the
+Prince and softened the haughty lines of his young face. He saw,
+through it all, the wharf below the palace grounds,--the fat old
+penager dozing in the sun,--the raft they built together, and the
+birch-colored crocodiles that lay among the sinuous mangrove roots.
+
+"Noa," he whispered, as he imperiously motioned the crowd back.
+
+The dying man's lips moved. The Prince bent lower.
+
+"She--loved--you. Yes--" Noa muttered, striving to hold his
+failing breath,--"love is from--Allah. But not for--me;--for
+English--and--Princes."
+
+They threw his body without the circle of the fires.
+
+The tense feline growl of the tiger grew more distinct. The Prince's
+hand sought the jewelled handle of his kris. There was a swift rush
+in the darkness, a crashing among the rubber-vines, a short, quick
+snarl, and then all was still.
+
+If you run amok in Malaya, you may kill your enemy or your dearest
+friend, but you will be krissed in the end like a pariah dog. Every
+man, woman, and child will turn his hand against you, from the mother
+who bore you to the outcast you have befriended.
+
+The laws are as immutable as fate.
+
+
+
+
+
+LEPAS'S REVENGE
+
+The Tale of a Monkey
+
+
+There were many monkeys--I came near saying there were hundreds--in
+the little clump of jungle trees back of the bungalow. We could lie
+in our long chairs, any afternoon, when the sun was on the opposite
+side of the house, and watch them from behind the bamboo "chicks"
+swinging and playing in the maze of rubber-vines.
+
+They played tag and high-spy, and a variety of other games. When
+they were tired of playing, they fell to quarrelling, scolding,
+and chasing each other among the stiff, varnished leaves, making so
+much noise that I could not get my afternoon nap, and often had to
+call to the syce to throw a stone into the branches. Then they would
+scuttle away to the topmost parts of the great trees and there join
+in giving me a rating that ought to have made me ashamed forever to
+look another monkey in the face.
+
+One day, I went out and threw a stick at them myself, and the next
+day I found my shoes, which the Chinese "boy" had pipe-clayed and
+put out in the sun to dry, missing; and the day after I found the
+netting of my mosquito house torn from top to bottom.
+
+So I was not in the best of humors when I was awakened, one afternoon,
+by the whistling of a monkey close to my chair. I reached out quickly
+for my cork helmet which I had thrown down by my side. As it was there,
+I looked up in surprise to see what had become of my visitor.
+
+There he sat up against the railing of the veranda with his legs
+cramped up under him, ready to flee if I made a threatening gesture.
+His face was turned toward me, with the thin, hairless skin of its
+upper lip drawn back, showing a perfect row of milk-white teeth that
+were chattering in deadly terror. The whole expression of his face
+was one of conciliation and entreaty.
+
+I knew that it was all make-believe, so I half closed my eyes and
+did not move. The chattering stopped. The little fellow looked about
+curiously, drew his mouth up into a pucker, whistled once or twice
+to make sure I was not awake, and reached out his bony arm for a few
+crumbs of cake that had fallen near.
+
+He was not more than a foot in height. His diminutive body seemed
+to have been fitted into a badly worn skin that was two sizes too
+large for him, and the scalp of his forehead moved about like an
+overgrown wig.
+
+He was the most ordinary kind of gray, jungle monkey, not even a
+wah-wah or spider face.
+
+"Well," I said, after we had thoroughly inspected each other, "where
+are my shoes?"
+
+Like a flash the whistling ceased, and with a pathetic trembling of
+his thin upper lip he commenced to beg with his mouth, and to put up
+his homely little hands in mute appeal.
+
+For a moment I feared he would go into convulsions, but I soon
+discovered that my sympathy, had been wasted.
+
+Then I noticed, for the first time, that there was a leather strap
+around his body just in front of his back legs, and that a string was
+attached to it, which ran through the railings and off the veranda. I
+looked over, and there, squatting on his sandalled feet, was a Malay,
+with the other end of the string in his hand.
+
+He arose, smiling, touched his forehead with the back of his brown
+palm, and asked blandly:--
+
+"Tuan, want to buy?"
+
+The calm assurance of the man amused me.
+
+"What, that miserable little monkey?" I said. "Do you take me for a
+tourist? Look up in those trees and you will see monkeys that know
+boiled rice from padi."
+
+The man grinned and showed his brilliantly red teeth and gums.
+
+"Tuan see. This monkey very wise," and he made a motion with his
+stick. The little fellow sprang from the railing to his bare head,
+and sat holding on to his long black hair.
+
+"See, Tuan," and he made another motion, and the monkey leaped to
+the ground and commenced to run around his master, hopping first
+on one foot and then on the other, raising his arms over his head
+like a ballet dancer. After every revolution he would stop and turn
+a handspring.
+
+The Malay all the time kept up a droning kind of a song in his native
+tongue, improvising as he went along.
+
+The tenor of it was that one Hamat, a poor Malay, but a good
+Mohammedan, who had never been to Mecca, wanted to go to become a
+Hadji. He had no money but he had a good monkey that was very dear
+to him. He had found it in a distant jungle, beyond Johore, when a
+little baby; had brought it up like one of his own children and had
+taught it to dance and salaam.
+
+Now he must sell the monkey to the great Tuan, or Lord, that the
+money might help take him to Mecca. The monkey must dance well and
+please the mighty Tuan.
+
+As the little fellow danced, he kept one eye on me as though he
+understood it all.
+
+"How old is he?" I asked, becoming interested.
+
+"Just as old as your Excellency would like," he replied, bowing.
+
+"Is he a year old?"
+
+"If the Tuan please."
+
+"Well, how much do you want for him?"
+
+"What your Excellency can give."
+
+"Twenty-five dollars?" I asked.
+
+His face lit up from chin to forehead. He hitched nervously at the
+folds of his sarong, and changed the quid of red betel-nut from one
+corner of his mouth to the other.
+
+"Here, Hamat," I said, laughing, "here is five dollars; take it;
+when you come back from Mecca with a green turban come and see me. If
+I am sick of the monkey, you can have him back."
+
+So commenced our acquaintance with Lepas. We got into the habit
+of calling him Lepas, because it was the Malay for "let go," which
+definition we broadened until it became a term of correction for every
+form of mischief. He was such a restless, active little imp, with
+hands into everything and upon everything, that it was "Lepas!" from
+morning to night.
+
+He soon learned the word's twofold meaning. If we said "Lepas" sternly,
+he subsided at once; but when we called it pleasantly he came running
+across the room and leaped into our laps.
+
+It did not take Lepas as long to forget his former master as it did
+to forget his former habits. In truth, his civilization was never
+more than skin deep.
+
+He would sit for hours cuddled up in the mistress's lap, playing
+with her work and making deft slaps at passing flies, until he
+had thoroughly convinced her of his perfect trustworthiness. Then,
+the moment her back was turned, he would slip away to her bureau,
+and such a mess as he would make of her ribbons and laces!
+
+I think he liked the servants better than he did us. He would dance
+and turn handsprings and salaam for them, but never for the mistress
+or myself. Such tricks, he seemed to think, were beneath his new
+position in society.
+
+He had a standing grudge against me, however, for insisting on his
+bath in the big Shanghai jar every day, and took delight in rolling
+in the red dust of the road the moment he was through.
+
+It was not long before he had a feud with the monkeys in the trees,
+back of the house. He would stand on the ground, within easy reach
+of the house, and as saucily as you please, till they were worked up
+into a white heat of rage over his remarks.
+
+Once he caught a baby monkey that had become entangled in the wiry
+lallang grass under the trees, and dragged it screeching into the
+house. Before we could get to him he had nearly drowned it by treating
+it to a bath,--an act, I suppose, intended to convey to me his opinion
+of my humane efforts to keep him clean.
+
+I expected as a matter of course to lose another pair of shoes
+or something, in payment for this unneighborly behavior, but the
+colony in the trees seemed to know that I was innocent. It was not
+long before they caught the true culprit, and gave him such a beating
+that he was quiet and subdued for days.
+
+But Lepas was a lovable little fellow with all his mischief. Every
+afternoon when I came home from the office, tired out with the heat
+and the fierce glare of the sun, he would hop over to my chair,
+whistle soothingly, and make funny little chirrups with his lips,
+until I noticed him.
+
+Then he would crawl quietly up the legs of the chair until he reached
+my shoulder, where he would commence with his cool little fingers to
+inspect my eyes and nose, and to pick over carefully each hair of my
+mustache and head.
+
+So we forgave him when he pulled all the feathers out of a ring-dove
+that was a valued present from an old native rajah; when he turned
+lamp-oil into the ice cream, and when he broke a rare Satsuma bowl
+in trying to catch a lizard. He was always so penitent after each
+misadventure!
+
+We had heard that Hamat had sailed for Jedda with a shipload of
+pilgrims and were therefore expecting him back soon; but we had
+decided not to give up Lepas. He had become a sort of necessity about
+the house.
+
+Next door to us, lived a high official of the English service. He was
+a sour, cross old man and did not like pets. Even the monkeys in the
+trees knew better than to go into his "compound," or inclosure.
+
+But Lepas started off on a voyage of discovery one day, and not only
+invaded his compound, but actually entered his house. The official
+caught him in the act of hiding his shaving-set between the palm
+thatch of the roof and the cheese-cloth ceiling. Recognizing Lepas,
+he did not kill him, but took him by his leathern girdle and soused
+him in his bath-tub, until he was so near dead that it took him hours
+to crawl home.
+
+Lepas went around with a sad, injured expression on his wrinkled
+little face, for days. Not even a mangosteen sprinkled with sugar
+could awaken his enthusiasm.
+
+He went so far as to make up with the monkeys in the trees, and once
+or twice I caught him condescending to have a game of leap-frog with
+them. I made up my mind that he had determined to turn over a new leaf,
+but the syce shook his head knowingly and said:--
+
+"Lepas all the time thinking. He thinks bad things."
+
+And so it proved.
+
+One night the mistress gave a very big dinner party. The high official
+from next door was there. So were several other high officials of
+Singapore, the general commanding her Majesty's troops, and the
+foreign consuls and members of Legislative Council.
+
+It was a hot night, and the punkah-wallah outside kept the punkah, or
+mechanical fan, switching back and forth over our heads with a rapidity
+that made us fear its ropes would break, as very often happened.
+
+Suddenly there was a crash, and a champagne glass struck squarely in
+the high official's soup and spattered it all over his white expanse
+of shirt front. We all looked up at the punkah. At the same instant
+a big, soft mango smashed in the high official's face and changed
+its ruddy red color to a sickly yellow.
+
+The women screamed, and the men jumped up from the table. Then began
+a regular fusillade of wine glasses and tropical fruits.
+
+Sometimes they hit the high official from next door, at whom they all
+seemed to be aimed, but more often they fell upon the table, among
+the glass and dishes. In a moment everything was in wild confusion,
+and the mistress's beautifully decorated table looked as though a
+bomb had exploded on it.
+
+The Chinese "boys" made a rush for the end of the room, and there,
+up on the sideboard, among the glass, pelting his enemy, the high
+official, as fast as he could throw, was Lepas.
+
+A finger bowl struck the butler full in the face, and gave the monkey
+time to make his escape out into the darkness through the wide-open
+doors.
+
+We saw nothing more of Lepas for a week or more; we had, indeed, about
+given him up, wondering as to his whereabouts, when one afternoon, as I
+was taking my usual post-tiffin siesta on the cool side of the great,
+wide-spreading veranda, I heard a timid whistle, and looked up to see
+Lepas seated on the railing, as sad and humble as any truant schoolboy.
+
+His hair was matted and faded and his face was dirty. His form had
+lost some of the plumpness that had come to it with good living,
+but there was the same wicked twinkle in his eyes, and the same
+hypocritical deceit in his bearing as of old.
+
+I reached out my hand to take him, but he hopped a few feet away and
+began to beg with his teeth.
+
+"Lepas," I said, "you have a bad heart. I wash my hands of you. When
+Hamat comes back you can go to him and be an ordinary, low caste
+monkey. Now go! I never want to see you again!"
+
+Lepas puckered up his lips and whistled mournfully for a few moments,
+but seeing no sign of forgiveness in my face he jumped down and began
+to turn handsprings and dance with the most demure grace.
+
+I took no notice of him, and after a few vain efforts to attract
+my attention, he hopped dejectedly off the veranda across the lawn,
+and disappeared among the timboso trees and rubber-vines.
+
+Two weeks later Hamat returned from Mecca. He paid me a visit in
+state--white robe and green turban. I shook hands and called him by
+his new title of nobility, Tuan Hadji, but he did not refer to Lepas.
+
+Before many minutes he commenced to look wistfully about. I pointed
+to the trees back of the house. He went out under them and called
+two or three times.
+
+There was a great chattering among the rubber-vines, and in a moment
+down came Lepas and sprang to his old master's shoulder as happy as
+a lover.
+
+I never saw Lepas but once again, and that was one evening on the ocean
+esplanade. He was in the centre of an admiring circle of half-nude
+Malay and Hindu boys, going through his quaint antics, while Hamat
+squatted before him beating on a crocodile-hide drum and singing a
+plaintive, monotonous song.
+
+When it was finished, Lepas took an empty cocoanut shell and went
+out into the crowd to collect pennies.
+
+I threw in a dollar. Lepas salaamed low as he snatched it out and bit
+it to test its genuineness. It was his latest accomplishment. Then
+he hid himself among the laughing crowd.
+
+That Lepas knew me, I could tell by the droop in his eye and the
+quick glance he gave to the right and left, to see if there was room
+to escape in case I made an effort to avenge my wrongs.
+
+I had no desire, however, to renew the acquaintance, and was quite
+willing to let by-gones be by-gones.
+
+
+
+
+
+KING SOLOMON'S MINES
+
+Being an Account of an Ascent of Mount Ophir in Malaya, by His
+Excellency, the Tuan Hakim of Maur, and the Writer
+
+
+                        "And they came to Ophir, and fetched
+                        from thence gold, four hundred and
+                        twenty talents, and brought it to
+                        King Solomon."--1 Kings IX. 28.
+
+                        "For the King's ships went to Tarshish
+                        with the servants of Huram; every
+                        three years once came the ships of
+                        Tarshish, bringing gold and silver,
+                        ivory, and apes, and peacocks."
+                                       --2 Chronicles VIII. 21.
+
+
+The rose tints of a tropical sunrise had broken through the heavy
+bamboo chicks that jealously guarded the rapidly fleeting half-lights
+of my room: there came three deferential taps at the door, and the
+smiling, olive-tinted face of Ah Minga appeared at the opening. "Tabek,
+Tuan," he saluted, as he raised the mosquito curtains, and placed a
+tray of tea and mangosteens on a table by my side.
+
+I sprang to the floor and across the heavily rugged room, and pulled
+up the offending chick.
+
+Across the palace grounds, fresh from their morning bath, across the
+broad river Maur, for the nonce black in the shadow of the jungle,
+across the gilded tops of the jungle, forty miles away as the crow
+flies, rested the serrated peak of Mount Ophir.
+
+Directly below me, a soldier in a uniform of duck and a rimless cap
+with a gold band was pacing up and down the gravelled walk. A little
+farther on a bevy of women and children were bathing in the tepid
+waters of the river, while a man in an unpainted prau was keeping
+watch for a possible crocodile.
+
+The sun was rising directly behind the peak, a ball of liquid fire. I
+drew in a long draught of the warm morning air.
+
+A Malay in a soft silken sarong, which fell about his legs like a
+woman's skirt, stood in the door.
+
+"The Prince is awaiting the Tuan Consul," he said, with a graceful
+salaam.
+
+I hurriedly donned my suit of white, drank my tea, and followed him
+along the grand salon, down a broad flight of steps, through a marble
+court, and into the dining room.
+
+A great white punkah was lazily vibrating over the heavy rosewood
+table.
+
+Unko Sulliman, the Prince Governor of Maur, came forward and gave me
+his hand.
+
+"It will be a hard climb and a hard day's work?" he said, pleasantly,
+in good English.
+
+"I have done worse," I answered.
+
+"But not under a Malayan sky. However, it is your wish, and his
+Highness the Sultan has granted it. The Chief Justice will accompany
+you, and now you had better start before the sun is high."
+
+I turned to the Tuan Hakim, or Chief Justice, with a gesture of
+unconcealed pleasure. We had shot crocodiles the day previous along
+the banks of the Maur, and I had found him a good shot and an agreeable
+companion. While not as handsome a man or as striking a representative
+of his race as the Unko, or Prince, he was a scholar, and could aid me
+more than any one else in my exploration of the ancient gold workings
+about the base of the famous mountain.
+
+The launch was awaiting us at the pier in front of the Residency,
+and we took our places in the bow, and arranged our guns as our
+half-naked crew worked her slowly into mid-stream. We hoped to get
+some snap shots at the crocodiles that lined the banks as we steamed
+swiftly up the river.
+
+"I am inclined to agree with Josephus, that yonder mountain is the
+Mount Ophir of Solomon, when I look at this river. It is equal to
+our Hudson, and could easily carry ships twice the size of any he or
+Huram ever floated."
+
+The Tuan Hakim nodded, and kept his eyes fastened on the nearest shore.
+
+The course of the great river seemed to stretch out before us in an
+endless line of majestic circles. From shore to shore, at high tide,
+it was a mile in breadth, and so deep that his Highness's yacht, the
+Pante, of three hundred tons' burden, could run up full fifty miles.
+
+For a moment we caught a view of the wooden minarets of the little
+mosque at Bander Maharani; then we dashed on into the heart of another
+great curve.
+
+"What is it your Koran says that the wise king's ships brought from
+Ophir?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the mangrove-bound shore.
+
+"Gold and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks," I replied, quoting
+literally from Chronicles.
+
+"Biak (good)! Gold and silver we have plenty. Your English companies
+are taking it out of the land by the pikul In the old days, before the
+Portuguese came, the handle of every warrior's kris was of ivory. Now
+our elephants are dying before the rifle of the sportsman. Soon our
+jungles will know them no more. Apes--" and he pointed at the top of
+a giant marbow, where a troop of silver wah-wahs were swinging from
+limb to limb. "The glorious argus pheasant you have seen."
+
+"Boyah, Tuan!" the man at the wheel sung out.
+
+I grasped my Winchester Express. Just ahead, half hidden by a black
+labyrinth of scaffold-like mangrove roots, lay the huge, mud-covered
+form of a crocodile.
+
+The Tuan Hakim raised his hand, and the launch slowed down and ran
+in under the bank.
+
+"Now!" he whispered, and our rifles exploded in unison.
+
+A great splash of slimy red mud fell full on the front of my spotless
+white jacket, another struck in the water close by the side of the
+boat. The wounded crocodile had sprung into the air from his tail up,
+and dropped back into his wallow with a resounding thud. In another
+instant he was off the slippery bank and within the security of the
+mud-colored water.
+
+I saw that my companion had more to tell me, possibly a native
+tradition of the fabled riches that were concealed within the heart
+of the historic mountain that was for the moment framed in a setting
+of green, directly ahead. I put a fresh cartridge into the barrel,
+and leaned back in my deck chair.
+
+The Chief Justice extracted a manila from his case and handed it to me.
+
+"In the days when Tunku Ali III. ruled over Maur, from Malacca to
+the confines of Johore, the Portuguese came, and Albuquerque with
+his ships of war and soldiers in iron armor sought to wrest from our
+people their cities and their riches. My ancestor was a dato,--our
+laksamana, high admiral, of his Highness's fleet. His galley was built
+of burnished teak, the lining of its cabin was of sandalwood,--algum
+wood your Koran calls it,--and the turret in its stern was covered
+with plates of solid gold. You will find record of it to this day in
+the state papers of Acheen.
+
+"For fully a hundred and forty years did the Emperor of Johore
+and his valiant allies, the King of Acheen and the Sultan of Maur,
+seek to retake Malacca from the Portuguese. The Dato Mamat was the
+last laksamana of the fleet. With him died the war and the secret of
+Mount Ophir."
+
+"The secret!" I questioned, as the Tuan Hakim paused.
+
+"For one hundred and forty years were we at war with the
+invaders. Three generations were born and died with arms in their
+hands. No work was done on the land, save by women and children. Still
+we had plenty of gold with which to fit out fleet after fleet, with
+which to arm our soldiers and feed our people.
+
+"It came from yonder mountain. Not even the Sultan knew its
+hiding-place. That was only trusted to one family, and handed from
+father to son by word of mouth.
+
+"Long before the days of Solomon the Wise did my family hold that
+secret for the state. It was one of them that gave the four hundred
+and twenty talents to the laksamana of Huram's fleet. Your Koran has
+made record of the gift. He did not know from whence it came. He asked,
+and we told him from the Ophirs, which means from the gold mines. Then
+it was that he called the mountain that raised its head four thousand
+feet above the sea, and was the first object his lookout saw as they
+neared the coast, 'Mount Ophir.'
+
+"No man, however so bold, ventured within a radius of fifteen miles
+around the foot of the mountain. It was haunted by evil spirits. No
+man save the laksamana, who went twice a year and brought away to his
+prau, which was moored on the bank of the Maur thirty miles from the
+mountains, ten great loads of pure gold, each time over one hundred
+bugels. I know not as to the truth, but it is told that there was
+one tribe consecrated to the mining of the gold, not one of whom had
+ever been outside the shadow of the mountain: that when the great
+admiral ceased to come, they blocked up the entrance to the mines,
+planted trees about the spot, and waited. One after another died,
+until not one was left.
+
+"Such is the tradition of my family, Tuan."
+
+"But the great laksamana?" I asked. "I know of the ancient riches of
+Malacca. Barbosa tells us that gold was so common that it was reckoned
+by the bhar of four hundred weight."
+
+My companion contemplated the end of his manila. "Do you know how
+died his Highness, Montezuma of Mexico, Tuan?"
+
+I bowed.
+
+"So died my ancestor one hundred years later. I will tell you of it,
+that you may write his name in your histories by the side of the name
+of the murdered Sultan of Mexico."
+
+The eyes of the little man flashed, and he looked squarely into mine
+for the first time. Possibly he may have detected a smile on my face,
+at the thought of placing this leader of a band of pirates side by
+side in history with the once ruler of the richest empire in the New
+World, for he paused in the midst of his narrative and said rapidly:--
+
+"Must I tell you what your own writers tell of the rulers of our
+country, to make you credit my tale? It is all here," he said,
+pointing to his head. "Everything that relates to my home I know. King
+Emmanuel of Portugal wrote to his High Kadi at Rome, that his general,
+the cruel Albuquerque, had sailed to the Aurea Chersonese, called
+by the natives Malacca, and found an enormous city of twenty-five
+thousand houses, that abounded in spices, gold, pearls, and precious
+stones. Was Montezuma's capital greater?" he triumphantly asked.
+
+"It was as great then as Singapore is today. Albuquerque captured it,
+and built a fortress at the mouth of the river, making the walls
+fifteen feet thick, all from the ruins of our mosques. This was
+in 1513."
+
+"Forgive me," I said hastily, "if I have seemed to cast doubt on the
+relative importance of your country."
+
+There was a Malay kampong, or village, to our right. Under the
+heavy green and yellow fronds of a cocoanut grove were a half-dozen
+picturesque palm-thatched houses. They were built up on posts six
+feet from the ground, and a dozen men and children scampered down
+their rickety ladders, as a shrill blast from our whistle aroused
+them from their slumbers. Pressed against the wooden bars of their
+low, narrow windows, we could make out the comely, brown faces
+of the women. The punghulo, or chief, walked sedately out to the
+beach, and touched his forehead to the ground as he recognized his
+superior. The sunlight broke through the enwrapping cocoanuts, and
+brought out dazzling white splotches on the sandy floor before the
+houses. We passed a little space of wiry lallang grass, which was
+waving in the faint breeze, and radiating long, irregular lines of
+heat, that under our glasses resembled the marking of watered silk,
+and were once more abreast the green walls of the impenetrable jungle.
+
+"The Dato Mamat captured a Portuguese ship within a man's voice from
+the harbor of Malacca. On it was the foreign Governor's daughter. She
+was dark, almost as dark as my people. Her eyes were black as night,
+with long, drooping lashes, and her hair fell about her shapely neck,
+a mass of waving curls. She was tall and stately, and her bearing was
+haughty. The mighty Laksamana, who had fought a hundred battles, and
+had a hundred wives picked from the princesses of the kingdom,--for
+there were none so noble but felt honored in his smiles,--loved this
+dark-skinned foreigner. It was pitiful!
+
+"His great fleet, which was to have swept the very name of the
+Portuguese from the face of the earth, lay idle before the harbor. Its
+captains were burning with ambition, but the Admiral would not give
+the command, and they dare not disobey.
+
+"Day after day went by while the great man hung like a pariah dog
+on the words of his haughty captive. She scorned his words of love,
+laughed at his prayers, and sneered at his devotion. Day after day the
+sun beat down on the burnished decks of the war praus. Night after
+night the evening gun in the besieged fort sent forth its mocking
+challenge: still the Dato made no motion. Oh, but it was pitiful! One
+by one the praus slipped away,--first those from Acheen, and then
+those from Johore,--but the valiant Laksamana saw them not. He was
+blind to all save one. Then she spoke: 'If thou lovest me as thou
+boastest, and would win my smiles, send me to my father; then go
+and bring me of this gold of Ophir,--for the Dato had laid his heart
+bare before her,--enough to sink yon boat. The daughter of a Braganza
+does not unite herself with a pauper. When the moon is full again,
+I will expect you.'
+
+"So did the Laksamana, to the everlasting shame of Islam. When the
+moon was full he returned in his shining prau before the walls of
+Malacca, He brought from Ophir, of gold more than enough; of the
+pearls of Ceylon he brought a chupah full to the brim. He robbed
+his great palace, that he might lay at the feet of the Portuguese a
+fortune such as Solomon only ever saw. And yet the captains of his
+fleet cared not for the gold, so long as the mighty Dato saved his
+honor. When he left for the quay, on which stood the Governor, his
+daughter, and the priests of their religion, they said not a word,
+for he passed by with averted face; but each man grasped the jewelled
+handle of his kris, and swore to Allah under his breath that should
+but one hair of the mighty Admiral's head be lacking when he returned,
+they would cut the false heart from the woman and feed it to the dogs.
+
+"So spoke the captains; but ere the breath had passed their lips their
+chief was a prisoner, and the guns from the fort hurled defiance at
+the betrayed.
+
+"It was pitiful! Allah was avenged.
+
+"Fiercely raged the battle, and when there was a breach in the walls,
+and the captain besar had ordered the attack, the Portuguese held
+the mighty Laksamana over the walls, and reviled the allied fleets
+with words of derision.
+
+"Not one moved, and all was still. Suddenly the Admiral raised his
+head, and gazed out and down at his followers. Then he spoke, and the
+sound of his voice reached far out to the most distant prau that lay
+becalmed within the shadow of casuarina-shaded Puli.
+
+"'Allah il Allah, I have sinned, and I must die. No more shall my
+name be known in the land. I am no longer laksamana; neither am I a
+dato. Allah is just. Tuan Allah Suka!'
+
+"A foreigner smote him in the mouth, and a great cry arose from
+without the walls.
+
+"The war went on; but day after day did the Governor send a message
+to the Laksamana in the dungeon. 'Reveal the spot where thy gold is
+hidden, and thy life and liberty are granted.'
+
+"Day by day the Dato replied, 'My life is a pollution in the nostrils
+of Allah. Take it.'
+
+"So they laid the great chief on the stones of his cell, bound hand
+and foot, and one by one did they break the joints of his toes,
+his fingers, and then the joints of his legs and arms. When they had
+finished, and he still lived, the woman came to him and mocked him,
+but the Admiral closed his eyes and prayed. 'O Allah, the all-merciful
+and the loving kind, forgive me for my erring heart. Thou knowest that
+it goes out to this woman still.  Let not my country suffer for my
+deeds. I gave unto thy servant Solomon of the gold that has made us
+great. If thou canst, thou wilt whisper the secret of our nation to
+one of thy chosen people, that they may have means whereby to fight
+thy battles.'
+
+"And then the woman raised her hand, and with one stroke of the axe an
+attendant severed from his body the head of the once mighty Laksamana
+of the fleets of Johore, Acheen and Maur.
+
+"So died the secret of Ophir. So fell Malacca forever into the hands
+of the foreigner."
+
+The Tuan Hakim's voice trembled as he closed. During the tragic recital
+he had dropped into the soft, melodious chant of his nation. At times
+he would lapse into Malay, and the boatmen would push forward and
+listen with unconcealed excitement. Then, as he returned to English,
+they would drop back into their places, but never take their eyes off
+the face of the speaker. Only our China "boys" took no interest in
+the past of Maur. It was tiffin time, and they were anxious to set
+before us our lunch of rice curry, gula Malacca, whiskey and soda.
+
+The sun was directly above us, and the fierce, steely glare of the
+Malayan sky and water dazzled our eyes. Mount Ophir looked as far
+ahead as ever. The winding course of the river seemed at times to
+take us directly away from it.
+
+Just as we had finished our meal, and had lighted our manilas, the
+steersman turned the little launch sharply about, and headed directly
+for the shore. In a moment we had shot under and through the deep
+fringe of mangrove trees, and had emerged into the jungle. On all
+sides the trees rose, columnar and straight, and the ground was firm,
+although densely covered with ferns and vines.
+
+The launch stopped, and the chief turned to me. "Now for the climb. We
+have thirty miles to the base of the mountain. We will push on ten
+miles, and spend the night at a Malay village. The next day we will
+try and reach the base of the mountain."
+
+I looked about me. We might have been surrounded by prison walls,
+for all hope there seemed to be of our getting an inch into the jungle.
+
+Our servants gathered up our rather extensive impedimenta, and sprang
+into the water. We were forced to follow suit, and begin our day's
+march with wet feet. A few steps up the stream we came upon an old
+elephant track and plunged boldly in,--and it was in! For three
+miles we labored through a series of the most elaborate mud-holes
+that I have ever seen. The elephants in breaking a path through the
+jungle are extremely timid in their boldness. The second one always
+steps in the footprints of the first. Year after year it is the same,
+until in course of time the path is marked by a series of pitfalls,
+often two feet in depth; and as it rains nearly every day they become
+a seething, slimy paste of mud.
+
+Our heavy cloth shoes and stockings did not protect us from the
+attacks of innumerable leeches; for when we at last reached an open
+bit of forest and sat down to rest, we found dozens of them attached
+to our legs and even on our bodies. They were small, and beautifully
+marked with stripes of bright yellow.
+
+It was twilight when we neared the welcome kampong. We had sent a
+runner ahead to notify the punghulo of our arrival, and as we finished
+our struggle with the last thorny rattan, and tripped over the last
+rubber-vine, we could hear the shouting of men and the barking of
+dogs. Evidently we were expected.
+
+The kampong might have been any other in the kingdom, and the little
+old weazened punghulo, who came bowing and smiling forward, might
+have been at the head of any one of a hundred other kampongs,--they
+were all so much alike. A half-dozen attap bungalows, built under a
+cocoanut grove, all facing toward a central plaza; a score of dogs for
+each bungalow; a flock of featherless fowls scratching and wallowing
+beneath them, and a bevy of half-naked children playing with a rattan
+ball within the light of a central fire,--made up the details of a
+little picture of Malayan home life that had become very familiar to
+me within the last three years.
+
+Our servants at once set about preparing supper before the fire,
+while we for politeness' sake compounded a mouthful of betel-nut and
+syrah leaf from the punghulo's state box.
+
+The next morning we set out for our twenty miles' tramp, along a narrow
+jungle path, accompanied by some ten natives of the village whom my
+companion had retained to cut a path for us up the mountain. It was a
+long, tiresome journey, and we were heartily glad when it was ended,
+and we were encamped on the rocky banks of a fern-hid stream.
+
+Twice during our day's march had we crossed deep, ragged depressions in
+the earth, which were overgrown with a jungle that seemed to be coequal
+in age with the surrounding trees. We did not pause to examine them,
+although our natives pointed them out with the expressive word mas
+(gold). We promised to do that at a later date. On the border of the
+creek I found some gold-bearing rock, and while the Tuan Hakim was
+engaged in securing some superb specimens of the great atlas moth,
+I sat down and crushed some fragments of it, and obtained enough gold
+to satisfy me that the rock would run four ounces to the ton.
+
+It was a beautiful night. We lay under our mosquito netting, and gazed
+up through the interlacing branches of the trees at the star-strewn
+sky, and smoked our manilas in weary content. The long, full "coo-ee"
+of the stealthy argus pheasant sounded at intervals in distant parts
+of the forest. It might have been the call of the orang-utan, or the
+wild hillmen of the country, for they have imitated the call of this
+most glorious of birds.
+
+The shrill, never ceasing whir of the cicada hardly attracted our
+attention; while the whistle and crash of a monkey that was inspecting
+us from his perch among the trees above caused me to peer upward,
+in hopes of catching a glimpse of his grayish outlines.
+
+I had not had an opportunity of asking my companion for the details
+of his tragic story. I turned to him, and found him watching me
+attentively. "Were you listening to the call of the coo-ee?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," I answered.
+
+"It is the queen of birds. I will get you one. I have never shot
+one. They only come out at night, and then only to disappear, but we
+can trap them. It will die in captivity. That is why Solomon could
+not keep them, and sent for new ones every three years."
+
+"What became of the woman?" I asked.
+
+"The body of the Laksamana was thrown over the walls by the
+Portuguese," he said moodily. "It was embalmed and laid away. Two
+months from that day the woman was walking outside the walls. The war
+was over. There was no more gold. Three of my people sprang upon her
+and the Portuguese she was to marry." He paused for a moment and looked
+up at the stars, then went on in a cold, matter-of-fact tone. "They
+were lashed to the headless body of the man they had murdered, and
+thrown into the royal tiger-cage, by order of his Highness, Ali,
+Sultan of Maur."
+
+I raised my curtain and threw the stub of my cigar out into the
+darkness, a smothered exclamation of horror escaping my lips.
+
+"It was the will of Allah. Good night."
+
+It was nearly nine o'clock the next morning before we started. Our
+Malays had gone on at daybreak, to cut a path up the base of the
+mountain to where the open forest began.
+
+We ascended steadily up a moderate slope for several miles, keeping
+the ravine on our left. It was comparatively easy work after we had
+left the jungle behind. After crossing a level plateau we once more
+found ourselves in a forest so dense that our men had to use their
+parangs again. The heat of the jungle was intense, and we suffered
+severely from the stings of a fly that is not unlike a cicada in shape.
+
+From the jungle we emerged into an immense stone field,--padang-batu,
+the Malays called it. It extended along the mountain side as far
+as we could see, in places quite bare, at others deeply fissured
+and covered with a most luxuriant vegetation. We tramped at times
+waist deep through ferns, some green, some dark red, and some lined
+with yellow, clumps of the splendid Dipteris Horsfieldi and Matonia
+pectinala, with their slender stems and wide-spreading palmate fronds
+towering two feet above our heads. The delicate maidenhair lay like a
+rich carpet beneath our feet, while hundreds of magnificent climbing
+pitcher-plants doused us with water as we knocked against them. Our
+sympiesometer showed us that we were twenty-eight hundred feet above
+the sea.
+
+Beyond the padang-batu we entered a forest of almost Alpine character,
+dwarfed and stunted. For several hours we worked along ridges,
+descended into valleys, and ascended almost precipitous ledges, until
+we finally reached a peak that was separated from the true mountain
+by a deep, forbidding cañon.
+
+Several of the older men of the party gave out, and we were forced
+to leave them with half our baggage and what water was left: there
+was a spring, they told us, near the summit.
+
+The scramble down the one side of the cañon, and up the other, was a
+hard hour's work. Its rocky, almost perpendicular sides were covered
+with a bushy vegetation on top of a foundation of mosses and dead
+leaves, so that it afforded us more hindrance than help.
+
+Just below the summit we came to where a projecting rock gave us
+shelter, and a natural basin contained flowing water. Dropping my load,
+and hardly waiting to catch my breath, I was on my way up the fifty
+feet that lay between us and the top. In another moment I had mounted
+the small, rocky, rhododendron-covered platform, and stood, the first
+of my party, on the summit of Mount Ophir. The little American flag
+that I had brought with me I waved frantically above my head, much
+to the amusement of my attendants.
+
+Four thousand feet below, to the east, stretched the silver sheen of
+the Indian Ocean. The smoke of a passing steamer lay like a dark stain
+on the blue and white of the sky. Close into the shore was the little
+capital town of Bander Maharani, connecting itself with us by a long,
+snake-like ribbon of shimmering light,--the great river Maur.
+
+To the north and west successive ranges of hill and valley, divided
+by the glistening river, and all covered by an interminable jungle
+of vivid green, fell away until lost in the cloudless horizon.
+
+For a moment I stood and gazed out over the vast expanse that lay
+before me, my mind filled with the wild, unwritten poetry of its
+jungles and its people; then I turned to my companion.
+
+"It is beautiful!"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"But not equal to the view from our own Mount Washington."
+
+"Then why take so much trouble to secure it? Mount Pulei is as high,
+and there is a good road to its top."
+
+I laughed. "Mount Pulei or Mount Washington is not Ophir."
+
+"True!" he answered, opening his eyes in surprise at the seeming
+absurdity of my statement. "He that told you they were speaketh a lie."
+
+We spent the night on the summit, and watched the sun drop into the
+midst of the sea, away to the west. It was cool and delightful after
+the moist, heat-laden atmosphere of the lowlands, and a strong breeze
+freed us from the swarm of tiger mosquitoes that we had learned to
+expect as the darkness came on.
+
+Where the Ophir of the Bible really is, will ever be a question of
+doubt. To my mind it embraces the entire East--the Malay Peninsula,
+Ceylon, India, and even China,--Ophir being merely a comprehensive
+term, possibly taken from this Mount Ophir of Johore, which
+signified the most central point of the region to which Solomon's
+ships sailed. For all ages the gold of the Malay Peninsula has been
+known; from the earliest times there has been intercourse between the
+Arabians and the Malays, while the Malayan was the very first of the
+far Eastern countries to adopt the Mohammedan religion and customs.
+
+All the articles mentioned in the Biblical account of Mount Ophir
+are found in and about Malacca in abundance, while on the coast of
+Africa two of them, peacocks and silver, are missing.
+
+If the Hebrew word thukyim is translated peacocks, and not parrots,
+then Solomon's ships must have turned east after passing the Straits
+of Bab-el-Mandeb, and not south along the coast of Africa toward
+Sofala. For peacocks are only found in India and Malaya.
+
+It is a singular fact that in the language of the Orang Bennu, or
+aborigines of the Malay Peninsula, that word "peacocks," which in the
+modern Malay is marrak, is in the aboriginal chim marak, which is the
+exact termination of the Hebrew tuchim. Their word for bird is tchem,
+another surprising similarity.
+
+The morning sun brought us to our feet long before it was light in
+the vast spaces beneath our eyes. The jungle held its reddening rays
+for a moment; they flamed along the course of a half-hidden river;
+we stood out clear and distinct in their glorious effulgence, and
+then the broken, denuded crags and ragged ravines of the padang-batu
+absorbed them in its black fastnesses.
+
+The gold of Mount Ophir was all about us. The air, the stones, the
+very trees, seemed to have been transformed into the glorious metal
+that the little fleets of Solomon and Huram sailed so far to seek. The
+Aurea Chersonese was a breathing, pulsating reality.
+
+
+
+
+
+BUSUK
+
+The Story of a Malayan Girlhood
+
+
+They called her Busuk, or "the youngest" at her birth. Her father,
+the old punghulo, or chief, of the little kampong, or village, of
+Passir Panjang, whispered the soft Allah Akbar, the prayer to Allah,
+in her small brown ear.
+
+The subjects of the punghulo brought presents of sarongs run with gold
+thread, and not larger than a handkerchief, for Busuk to wear about
+her waist. They also brought gifts of rice in baskets of cunningly
+woven cocoanut fibre; of bananas, a hundred on a bunch; of durians,
+that filled the bungalow with so strong an odor that Busuk drew up
+her wrinkled, tiny face into a quaint frown; and of cocoanuts in
+their great green, oval shucks.
+
+Busuk's old aunt, who lived far away up the river Maur, near the foot
+of Mount Ophir, sent a yellow gold pin for the hair; her husband,
+the Hadji Mat, had washed the gold from the bed of the stream that
+rushed by their bungalow.
+
+Busuk's brother, who was a sergeant in his Highness's the Sultan's
+artillery at Johore, brought a tiny pair of sandals all worked in
+many-colored beads. Never had such presents been seen at the birth
+of any other of Punghulo Sahak's children.
+
+Two days later the Imam Paduka Tuan sent Busuk's father a letter
+sewn up in a yellow bag. It contained a blessing for Busuk. Busuk
+kept the letter all her life, for it was a great thing for the high
+priest to do.
+
+
+
+On the seventh day Busuk's head was shaven and she was named Fatima;
+but they called her Busuk in the kampong, and some even called her
+Inchi Busuk, the princess.
+
+From the low-barred window of Busuk's home she could look out on the
+shimmering, sunlit waters of the Straits of Malacca. The loom on which
+Busuk's mother wove the sarongs for the punghulo and for her sons
+stood by the side of the window, and Busuk, from the sling in which
+she sat on her mother's side, could see the fishing praus glide by,
+and also the big lumber tonkangs, and at rare intervals one of his
+Highness's launches.
+
+Sometimes she blinked her eyes as a vagrant shaft of sunlight straggled
+down through the great green and yellow fronds of the cocoanut palms
+that stood about the bungalow; sometimes she kept her little black
+eyes fixed gravely on the flying shuttle which her mother threw deftly
+back and forth through the many-colored threads; but best of all did
+she love to watch the little gray lizards that ran about on the palm
+sides of the house after the flies and moths.
+
+She was soon able to answer the lizards' call of "gecho, gecho," and
+once she laughed outright when one, in fright of her baby-fingers,
+dropped its tail and went wiggling away like a boat without a
+rudder. But most of the time she swung and crowed in her wicker cradle
+under the low rafters.
+
+When Busuk grew older, she was carried every day down the ladder of the
+house and put on the warm white sand with the other children. They were
+all naked, save for a little chintz bib that was tied to their necks;
+so it made no difference how many mudpies they made on the beach nor
+how wet they got in the tepid waters of the ocean. They had only to
+look out carefully for the crocodiles that glided noiselessly among
+the mangrove roots.
+
+One day one of Busuk's playmates was caught in the cruel jaws of
+a crocodile, and lost its hand. The men from the village went out
+into the labyrinth of roots that stood up above the flood like a
+huge scaffolding, and caught the man-eater with ropes of the gamooty
+palm. They dragged it up the beach and put out its eyes with red-hot
+spikes of the hard billion wood.
+
+Although the varnished leaves of the cocoanuts kept almost every ray
+of sunlight out of the little village, and though the children could
+play in the airy spaces under their own houses, their heads and faces
+were painted with a paste of flour and water to keep their tender
+skins from chafing in the hot, moist air.
+
+
+
+At evening, when the fierce sun went down behind the great banian
+tree that nearly hid Mount Pulei, the kateeb would sound the call to
+prayer on a hollow log that hung up before the little palm-thatched
+mosque. Then Busuk and her playmates would fall on their faces,
+while the holy man sang in a soft, monotonous voice the promises
+of the Koran, the men of the kampong answering. "Allah il Allah,"
+he would sing, and "Mohammed is his prophet," they would answer.
+
+Every night Busuk would lie down on a mat on the floor of the house
+with a little wooden pillow under her neck, and when she dared she
+would peep down through the open spaces in the bamboo floor into
+the darkness beneath. Once she heard a low growl, and a great dark
+form stood right below her. She could see its tail lashing its sides
+with short, whip-like movements. Then all the dogs in the kampong
+began to bark, and the men rushed down their ladders screaming,
+"Harimau! Harimau!" (A tiger! A tiger!) The next morning she found
+that her pet dog, Fatima, named after herself, had been killed by one
+stroke of the great beast's paw. Once a monster python swung from a
+cocoanut tree through the window of her home, and wound itself round
+and round the post of her mother's loom. It took a dozen men to tie
+a rope to the serpent's tail, and pull it out.
+
+
+
+Busuk went everywhere astride the punghulo's broad shoulders as he
+collected the taxes and settled the disputes in the little village. She
+went out into the straits in the big prau that floated the star and
+crescent of Johore over its stern, to look at the fishing-stakes,
+and was nearly wrecked by a great water-spout that burst within a
+few feet of them.
+
+Then she went twice to Johore, and gazed in open-eyed wonder at
+the palaces of the Sultan and at the fort in which her uncle was
+an officer.
+
+"Some day," she thought, "I may see his Highness, and he may notice me
+and smile." For had not his Highness spoken twice to her father and
+called him a good man? So whenever she went to Johore she put on her
+best sarong and kabaya> and in her jetty black hair she put the pin
+her aunt had given her, with a spray of sweet-smelling chumpaka flower.
+
+When she was four years old she went to the penager to learn to read
+and write. In a few months she could outstrip any one in the class
+in tracing Arabic characters on the sand-sprinkled floor, and she
+knew whole chapters in the Koran.
+
+So the days were passed in the little kampong under the gently swaying
+cocoanuts, and the little Malayan girl grew up like her companions,
+free and wild, with little thought beyond the morrow. That some day
+she was to be married, she knew; for since her first birthday she had
+been engaged to Mamat, the son of her father's friend, the punghulo
+of Bander Bahru.
+
+She had never seen Mamat, nor he her; for it was not proper that a
+Malay should see his intended before marriage. She had heard that
+he was strong and lithe of limb, and could beat all his fellows at
+the game called ragga. When the wicker ball was in the air he never
+let it touch the ground; for he was as quick with his head and feet,
+shoulders, hips, and breast, as with his hands. He could swim and box,
+and had once gone with his father to the seaports on New Year's Day
+at Singapore, and his own prau had won the short-distance race.
+
+Mamat was three years older than Busuk, and they were to be married
+when she was fifteen.
+
+At first she cried a little, for she was sad at the thought of giving
+up her playmates. But then the older women told her that she could
+chew betel when she was married, and her mother showed her a little
+set of betel-nut boxes, for which she had sent to Singapore. Each cup
+was of silver, and the box was cunningly inlaid with storks and cherry
+blossoms. It had cost her mother a month's hard labor on the loom.
+
+Then Mamat was not to take her back to his father's bungalow. He
+had built a little one of his own, raised up on palm posts six feet
+from the ground, so that she need not fear tigers or snakes or white
+ants. Its sides were of plaited palm leaves, every other one colored
+differently, and its roof was of the choicest attap, each leaf bent
+carefully over a rod of rattan, and stitched so evenly that not a
+drop of rain could get through.
+
+Inside there was a room especially for her, with its sides hung
+with sarongs, and by the window was a loom made of kamooning wood,
+finer than her mother's. Outside, under the eaves, was a house of
+bent rattan for her ring-doves, and a shelf where her silver-haired
+monkey could sun himself.
+
+So Busuk forgot her grief, and she watched with ill-concealed eagerness
+the coming of Mamat's friends with presents of tobacco and rice and
+bone-tipped krises. Then for the first time she was permitted to open
+the camphor-wood chest and gaze upon all the beautiful things that
+she was to wear for the one great day.
+
+Her mother and elder sisters had been married in them, and their
+children would, one after another, be married in them after her.
+
+There was a sarong of silk, run with threads of gold and silver, that
+was large enough to go around her body twice and wide enough to hang
+from her waist to her ankles; a belt of silver, with a gold plate
+in front, to hold the sarong in place; a kabaya, or outer garment,
+that looked like a dressing-gown, and was fastened down the front with
+golden brooches of curious Malayan workmanship; a pair of red-tipped
+sandals; and a black lace scarf to wear about her black hair. There
+were earrings and a necklace of colored glass, and armlets, bangles,
+and gold pins. They all dazzled Busuk, and she could hardly wait to
+try them on.
+
+
+
+A buffalo was sacrificed on the day of the ceremony. The animal was
+"without blemish or disease." The men were careful not to break its
+fore or hind leg or its spine, after death, for such was the law. Its
+legs were bound and its head was fastened, and water was poured upon
+it while the kadi prayed. Then he divided its windpipe. When it was
+cooked, one half of it was given to the priests and the other half
+to the people.
+
+All the guests, and there were many, brought offerings of cooked rice
+in the fresh green leaves of the plantain, and baskets of delicious
+mangosteens, and pink mangoes and great jack-fruits. A curry was made
+from the rice that had forty sambuls to mix with it. There were the
+pods of the moringa tree, chilies and capsicums, prawns and decayed
+fish, chutneys and onions, ducks' eggs and fish roes, peppers and
+cucumbers and grated cocoanuts.
+
+It was a wonderful curry, made by one of the Sultan's own cooks;
+for the Punghulo Sahak spared no expense in the marriage of this,
+his last daughter, and a great feast is exceedingly honorable in the
+eyes of the guests.
+
+Busuk's long black hair had to be done up in a marvellous chignon on
+the top of her head. First, her maids washed it beautifully clean
+with the juice of the lime and the lather of the soap-nut; then it
+was combed and brushed until every hair glistened like ebony; next it
+was twisted up and stuck full of the quaint golden and tortoise-shell
+bodkins, with here and there a spray of jasmine and chumpaka.
+
+Busuk's milky-white teeth had to be filed off more than a fourth. She
+put her head down on the lap of the woman and closed her eyes tight
+to keep back the hot tears that would fall, but after the pain was
+over and her teeth were blackened, she looked in the mirror at her
+swollen gums and thought that she was very beautiful. Now she could
+chew the betel-nut from the box her mother had given her!
+
+The palms of her hands and the nails of her fingers and toes were
+painted red with henna, and the lids of her eyes touched up with
+antimony. When all was finished, they led her out into the great room,
+which was decorated with mats of colored palm, masses of sweet-smelling
+flowers and maidenhair fern. There they placed her in the chair of
+state to receive her relatives and friends.
+
+
+
+She trembled a little for fear Mamat would not think her beautiful,
+but when, last of all, he came up and smiled and claimed the bit of
+betel-nut that she was chewing for the first time, and placed it in
+his mouth, she smiled back and was very happy.
+
+Then the kadi pronounced them man and wife in the presence of all,
+for is it not written, "Written deeds may be forged, destroyed, or
+altered; but the memory of what is transacted in the presence of a
+thousand witnesses must remain sacred? Allah il Allah!" And all the
+people answered, "Suka! Suka!" (We wish it! We wish it!)
+
+Then Mamat took his seat on the dais beside the bride, and the punghulo
+passed about the betel-box. First, Busuk took out a syrah leaf smeared
+with lime and placed in it some broken fragments of the betel-nut,
+and chewed it until a bright red liquid oozed from the corners of
+her mouth. The others did the same.
+
+Then the women brought garlands of flowers--red allamandas, yellow
+convolvulus, and pink hibiscus--and hung them about Busuk and Mamat,
+while the musicians outside beat their crocodile-hide drums in
+frantic haste.
+
+The great feast began out in the sandy plaza before the houses. There
+was cock-fighting and kicking the ragga ball, wrestling and boxing,
+and some gambling among the elders.
+
+Toward night Busuk was put in a rattan chair and carried by the
+young men, while Mamat and the girls walked by her side, a mile away,
+where her husband's big cadjang-covered prau lay moored. It was to
+take them to his bungalow at Bander Bahru. The band went, too, and
+the boys shot off guns and fire-crackers all the way, until Busuk's
+head swam, and she was so happy that the tears came into her eyes
+and trickled down through the rouge on her cheeks.
+
+So ended Busuk's childhood. She was not quite fifteen when she became
+mistress of her own little palm-thatched home. But it was not play
+housekeeping with her; for she must weave the sarongs for Mamat and
+herself for clothes and for spreads at night, and the weaving of
+each cost her twenty days' hard labor. If she could weave an extra
+one from time to time, Mamat would take it up to Singapore and trade
+it at the bazaar for a pin for the hair or a sunshade with a white
+fringe about it.
+
+Then there were the shell-fish and prawns on the sea-shore to be
+found, greens to be sought out in the jungle, and the padi, or rice,
+to be weeded. She must keep a plentiful supply of betel-nut and lemon
+leaves for Mamat and herself, and one day there was a little boy to
+look after and make tiny sarongs for.
+
+
+
+So, long before the time that our American girls are out of school, and
+about the time they are putting on long dresses, Busuk was a woman. Her
+shoulders were bent, her face wrinkled, her teeth decayed and falling
+out from the use of the syrah leaf. She had settled the engagement
+of her oldest boy to a little girl of two years in a neighboring
+kampong, and was dusting out the things in the camphor-wood chest,
+preparatory to the great occasion.
+
+I used to wonder, as I wandered through one of these secluded little
+Malay villages that line the shores of the peninsula and are scattered
+over its interior, if the little girl mothers who were carrying water
+and weaving mats did not sometimes long to get down on the warm, white
+sands and have a regular romp among themselves,--playing "Cat-a-corner"
+or "I spy"; for none of them were over seventeen or eighteen!
+
+Still their lives are not unhappy. Their husbands are kind and sober,
+and they are never destitute. They have their families about them,
+and hear laughter and merriment from one sunny year to another.
+
+Busuk's father-in-law is dead now, and the last time I visited Bander
+Bahru to shoot wild pig, Mamat was punghulo, collecting the taxes
+and administering the laws.
+
+He raised the back of his open palm to his forehead with a quiet
+dignity when I left, after the day's sport, and said, "Tabek! Tuan
+Consul. Do not forget Mamat's humble bungalow." And Busuk came down the
+ladder with little Mamat astride her bare shoulders, with a pleasant
+"Tabek! Tuan! (Good-by, my lord.) May Allah's smile be ever with you."
+
+
+
+
+
+A CROCODILE HUNT
+
+At the foot of Mount Ophir
+
+
+The little pleasant-faced Malay captain of his Highness's three-hundred
+ton yacht Pante called softly, close to my ear, "Tuan--Tuan Consul,
+Gunong Ladang!" I sprang to my feet, rubbed my eyes, and gazed in
+the direction indicated by the brown hand.
+
+I saw not five miles off the low jungle-bound coast of the peninsula,
+and above it a great bank of vaporous clouds, pierced by the molten
+rays of the early morning sun. As I looked around inquiringly, the
+captain, bowing, said: "Tuan," and I raised my eyes. Again I saw the
+lofty mountain peak surmounting the cushion of clouds, standing out
+bold and clear against the almost fierce azure of the Malayan sky.
+
+"Mount Ophir!" burst from my lips. The captain smiled and went
+forward to listen to the linesman's "two fathoms, sir, two and one
+half fathoms, sir, two fathoms, sir"; for we were crossing the shallow
+bar that protects the mouth of the great river Maur from the ocean.
+
+The tide was running out like a mill-race. The Pante was backing from
+side to side, and then pushing carefully ahead, trying to get into
+the deep water beyond, before low tide.
+
+Suddenly there was a soft, grating sound and the captain came to me
+and touched his hat.
+
+"We are on the bar, sir. Will you send a despatch by the steam-cutter
+to Prince Suliman, asking for the launch? We cannot get off until
+the night tide."
+
+The Pante had so swung around that we could plainly see the big
+red istana, or palace, of Prince Suliman close to the sandy shore,
+surrounded by a grove of graceful palms. With the aid of our glasses
+the white and red blur farther up the river resolved itself into the
+streets and quays of the little city of Bander Maharani, the capital
+of the province of Maur in dominions of his Highness Abubaker, Sultan
+of Johore. Above and overshadowing all both in beauty and historical
+interest was the famous old mountain where King Solomon sent his
+diminutive ships for "gold, silver, peacocks, and apes."
+
+By the time the ladies were astir, the mists had vanished and Gunong
+Ladang, or as it is styled in Holy Writ Mount Ophir, presented to
+our admiring gaze its massive outlines, set in a frame of green and
+blue. The dense jungle crept halfway up its sides and at the point
+where the cloud stratum had rested but an hour before, it merged into
+a tangled network of vines and shrubs which in their turn gave place
+to the black, red rock that shone like burnished brass.
+
+If our minds wandered away from visions of future crocodile-shooting
+to dreams of the past wealth that had been taken from the ancient
+mines that honeycombed the base of the mountain, it is hardly to
+be wondered at. If Dato or "Lord" Garlands told us queer stories of
+woods and masonry that antedated the written history of the country,
+stories of mines and workings that were overgrown with a jungle that
+looked as primeval as the mountain itself, he was to be excused on
+the plea that we, waiting on a sandy bar with the metallic glare of
+the sea in our eyes, were glad of any subject to distract our thoughts.
+
+The Resident's launch brought out Prince Mat and the Chief Justice,
+both of whom spoke English with an easy familiarity. Both had been in
+Europe and Prince Mat had dined with Queen Victoria. One night at table
+he related the incidents of that dinner with a delightful exactness
+that might have pleased her Britannic Majesty could she have listened.
+
+I waited only long enough to see the ladies installed in a suite of
+rooms in the Residency, then donned a suit of white duck, stepped
+into a river launch in company with Inchi Mohamed, the Chief Justice,
+and steamed out into the broad waters of the Maur.
+
+The southernmost kingdom of the great continent of Asia is the little
+Sultanate of Johore, ruled over by one of the most enlightened Princes
+of the East. Fourteen miles from Singapore, just across the notorious
+old Straits of Malacca, is his capital and the palace of the Sultan.
+
+We had been guests of the State for the past two weeks. Its ruler,
+among other kind attentions to us, had suggested a visit to his out
+province Maur and a crocodile hunt along the banks of the broad river
+that wound about the foot of Mount Ophir.
+
+Fifteen hours' steam in his beautiful yacht along the picturesque
+shores of Johore brought us to the realization of a long-cherished
+dream,--the seeing for ourselves the mountain whose exact location
+had been a subject of conjecture for so many centuries. Were I a
+scholar and explorer and not a sportsman, I might again and more
+explicitly set forth facts which I consider indubitable proof that
+the Mount Ophir of Asia and not the Mount Ophir of Africa is, as I
+have already claimed, the Mount Ophir of the Bible. But here, I wish
+only to narrate the record of a few pleasant days spent at its foot.
+
+The Maur River, at its mouth, is a mile across; it is so deep that one
+can run close up to its muddy banks and peer in under the labyrinth of
+mangrove roots that stand like a rustic scaffold beneath its trunks,
+protecting them from the highest flood-tides.
+
+It was some time before I could pick out a crocodile as he lay
+sleeping in his muddy bath, showing nothing above the slime except
+the serrated line of his great back, which was so incrusted that,
+but for its regularity, it might pass for the limb of a tree or some
+fantastically shaped root.
+
+"There you are!" said the Chief Justice, pointing at the bank almost
+before we had reached the opposite side. I strained my eyes and raised
+the hammer of my "50 x 110" Winchester; for I was to have a shot at
+my first live crocodile.
+
+We drew nearer and nearer the shore and yet I failed to see anything
+that resembled an animal of any sort. The little launch slowed down
+and the crew all pointed toward the bank. I cannot now imagine what
+I expected then to see, but something must have been in my mind's
+eye that blinded my bodily sight; for there, right before me, was a
+little fellow not over three feet long.
+
+He had just come up from the river, and his hide was clean and
+almost a dark birch color. His head was raised and he was regarding
+us suspiciously from his small green eyes.
+
+I put down my rifle in disgust, and took up my revolver. I had no
+idea of wasting a hundred and ten grains of powder on a baby. I took
+careful aim and fired. The revolver was a self-cocker, and yet before
+I could fire again, he had whirled about and was out of reach. He was
+gone and I drew a long breath. The Malays said I struck him. If I did,
+I had no means of proving it.
+
+The only way to bag crocodiles is to kill them outright or nearly
+so. If they have strength enough to crawl into the river and die,
+they will come to the surface again two days later; but the chances
+are that they will get under a root, or that in some way you will
+lose them. Out of forty or fifty big and small ones that we hit only
+five floated down past the Residency.
+
+I also soon found out that my hundred and ten grain cartridges were
+none too large for even the smaller crocodiles. As for those eighteen
+and twenty feet long, it was necessary that the Chief Justice and I
+should fire at the same time and at the same spot in order to arrest
+the big saurians in their wild scramble for the water.
+
+We had tried some half-dozen good shots at small fellows, varying from
+two to five feet in length, when I began to lose interest in the sport;
+so I turned to watch a colony of little gray, jungle monkeys, that
+were swinging and chattering and scolding among the mangrove trees.
+
+One of them picked a long dart-shaped fruit off the tree and essayed
+to drop it on the head of his mate below. I was about to call my
+companion's attention to it, when I heard a crash among the roots
+near where the missile had fallen, and a crocodile, so large that I
+distrusted my senses, turned his great log-like head to one side and
+gazed up at the frightened monkeys. I raised my hand, and the launch
+paused not over twenty yards from where he lay patiently waiting for
+one of the monkeys to drop within reach of his great jaws.
+
+The sun had dried the mud on his back until the entire surface reminded
+me of the beach of a muddy mill-pond that I used to frequent as a boy.
+
+"Boyah besar!" (A royal crocodile) repeated our Malays under their
+breaths.
+
+The Chief Justice and I fired at the same time, and the massive fellow
+who, but a moment before, had looked to be as stiff and clumsy as
+a bar of pig iron, now seemed to be made of india-rubber and steel
+springs. I should not have been more surprised had the great timboso
+tree, beside which he lay, arisen and danced a jig. He seemed to
+spring from the middle up into the air without the aid of either
+his head or his tail. Then he brought his tail around in a circle
+and struck the skeleton roots of the mangrove with such force as to
+dislodge a small monkey in its top, which fell whistling with fright
+into the lower limbs, while the crocodile's great jaws, which seemed
+to measure a third of his length, opened and shut viciously, snapping
+off limbs and roots like straws.
+
+"He sick!" shouted the Chief Justice. "Fire quick."
+
+I threw the cartridge from the magazine into the barrel, and raised
+the gun to my shoulder just as the huge saurian struck the water. My
+bullet caught him underneath, near the back legs. My companion's must
+have had more effect, for the crocodile stopped as though stunned. I
+had time to drop my gun and snatch up my revolver.
+
+It was an easy shot. The bullet sped true to its mark and entered one
+of the small fiery eyes. The huge frame seemed to quiver as though
+a charge of electricity had gone through it and then stiffened
+out,--dead.
+
+Our Malay boys got a rope of tough gamooty fibres around the great
+head, and we towed our prize out into the stream just as the Resident's
+launch, bearing the Prince and the ladies, steamed up the river to
+watch the sport.
+
+A crowd of servants got the crocodile up on the bank near the palace
+grounds and drew it two hundred yards to their quarters. Now comes
+the strangest part of the story.
+
+My servants had half completed the task of skinning him, for I wished
+to send his hide to the Smithsonian, when the muezzin sounded the call
+to prayers from the little mosque near by. In an instant the devout
+Mohammedans were on their faces and the crocodile in his half-skinned
+state was left until a more convenient time. At six o'clock the next
+morning I was awakened by a knock at my door:--
+
+"Tuan, Tuan Consul, come see boyah (crocodile)."
+
+I got up, wrapped a sarong about me, put my feet into a pair of grass
+slippers, and followed my guide out of the palace, through the courts
+to where the crocodile had been the night before, but no crocodile
+was to be seen. My guide grinned and pointed to a heavy trail that
+looked like the track of a stone-boat drawn by a yoke of oxen.
+
+We followed it for a hundred yards in the direction of the river,
+and came upon the crocodile, covered with blood and mud. His own
+hide hung about him like a dress, and his one eye opened and shut at
+the throng of wondering natives about. It was not until he had been
+put out of his misery and his hide taken entirely off that we felt
+confident of his bona fide demise.
+
+One day I had a real adventure while out shooting, which, like many
+real adventures, was made up principally of the things I thought and
+suffered rather than of the things I did. Hence I hardly know how
+to write it out so that it will look like an "adventure" and not a
+mere mishap.
+
+My companion had told me of a trail some thirty miles up the river that
+led into the jungle about three miles, to some old gold workings that
+date back beyond the written records of the State. So one day we drew
+our little launch close up under the bank of the river, and I sprang
+ashore, bent on seeing for myself the prehistoric remains. Contrary
+to the advice of the Chief Justice, I only took a heavy hunting-knife
+with me, and it was more for slashing away thorns and rattans than
+for protection.
+
+It was the heat of the day, and the dense jungle was like a
+furnace. Before I had gone a mile I began to regret my enthusiasm. I
+found the path, but it was so overgrown with creepers, parasites,
+and rubber-vines that I had almost to cut a new one. Had it not been
+for the company of a small English terrier, Lekas,--the Malay for
+"make haste,"--I believe I should have turned back.
+
+However, I found the old workings, and spent several hours making
+calculations as to their depth and course, taking notes as to the
+country formation, and assaying some bits of refuse quartz. Rather
+than struggle back by the path, I determined to follow the course of
+a stream that went through the mines and on toward the coast. So I
+whistled for Lekas and started on.
+
+For the first half-hour everything went smoothly. Then the stream
+widened out and its clay bottom gave place to one of mud, which made
+the walking much more difficult. At last I struck the mangrove belt,
+which always warns you that you are approaching the coast.
+
+As long as I kept in the centre of the channel, I was out of the way
+of the network of roots; but now the channel was getting deeper and my
+progress becoming more labored. It was impossible to reach the bank,
+for the mangroves on either side had grown so thick and dense as to
+be impenetrable.
+
+When I had perhaps achieved half the distance, the thought suddenly
+crossed my mind--how very awkward it would be to meet a crocodile in
+such a place! One couldn't run, that was certain, and as for fighting,
+that would be a lost cause from the first.
+
+Right in the midst of these unpleasant cogitations I heard a quiet
+splash in the water, not far behind, that sent my heart into my
+mouth. In a moment I had scrambled on to a mangrove root and had
+turned to look for the cause of my fears.
+
+For perhaps a minute I saw nothing, and was trying to convince myself
+that my previous thoughts had made me fanciful, when, not many yards
+off, I saw distinctly the form of a huge crocodile swimming rapidly
+toward me. I needed no second look, but dashed away over the roots.
+
+Before I had gone half a dozen yards I was down sprawling in the
+mud. I got entangled, and my terror made me totally unable to act
+with any judgment. Despair nerved me and I turned at bay with my long
+hunting-knife in my hand. How I longed for even my revolver!
+
+Whatever the issue, it could not be long delayed. The uncouth,
+hideous form, which as yet I had only seen dimly, was plain now. I
+took my stand on one of the largest roots, steadied myself by clasping
+another with my left hand, and waited.
+
+My chances, if it did not seem a mockery to call them such, were small
+indeed. I might, by singular good luck, deprive my adversary of sight;
+but hemmed in as I was by a tangled mass of roots, I felt that even
+then I should be but little better off.
+
+All manner of thoughts came unbidden to my mind. I could see Inchi
+Mohamed propped up on cushions in the launch reading "A Little Book of
+Profitable Tales" that had just been sent me by its author. I started
+to smile at the tale of The Clycopeedy. Then I caught sight of the
+peak of Mount Ophir through a notch in the jungle and all sorts of
+absurd hypotheses in regard to its authenticity flashed through my
+mind. All this takes time to relate, but those who have stood in
+mortal peril will know how short a time it takes to think.
+
+From the moment I left the water, but a few seconds had elapsed and the
+saurian was not two yards from me. The abject horror and hopelessness
+of that moment was something I can never forget. Suddenly Lekas came
+floundering through the mud; a second more, and he perceived my enemy
+when almost within reach of his jaws.
+
+Barking furiously, Lekas began to back away. One breathless moment,
+and the reptile turned to follow this new prey. I sank down among
+the roots regardless of the slime and watched the crocodile crawl
+deliberately away, with the gallant little dog retreating before him,
+keeping up a succession of angry barks.
+
+When I arrived at the mouth of the creek, weak, faint, and covered
+from head to foot with mud, I found the Chief Justice awaiting me. The
+barking of the dog had attracted his attention and he had steamed up
+to see what was the matter.
+
+I had not strength left to stroke the head of the brave little fellow
+who had thus twice done me a most welcome service. I had, indeed, but
+just strength enough to spring in, throw myself down on the cushions,
+and let my "boys" pull off my clothes and bring me a suit of clean
+pajamas and cool grass slippers.
+
+
+
+
+
+A NEW YEAR'S DAY IN MALAYA
+
+And some of its Picturesque Customs
+
+
+My Malay syce came close up to the veranda and touched his brown
+forehead with the back of his open hand.
+
+"Tuan" (Lord), he said, "have got oil for harness, two one-half
+cents; black oil for cudah's (horse) feet, three cents; oil, one cent
+one-half for bits; oil, seven cents for cretah (carriage). Fourteen
+cents, Tuan."
+
+I put my hands into the pockets of my white duck jacket and drew out
+a roll of big Borneo coppers.
+
+The syce counted out the desired amount, and handed back what was left
+through the bamboo chicks, or curtains, that reduced the blinding
+glare of the sky to a soft, translucent gray. I closed my eyes and
+stretched back in my long chair, wondering vaguely at the occasion
+that called for such an outlay in oils, when I heard once more the
+quiet, insistent "Tuan!" I opened my eyes.
+
+"No got red, white, blue ribbon for whip."
+
+"Sudah chukup!" (Stop talking) I commanded angrily. The syce shrugged
+his bare shoulders and gave a hitch to his cotton sarong.
+
+"Tuan, to-morrow New Year Day. Tuan, mem (lady) drive to
+Esplanade. Governor, general, all white tuans and mems there. Tuan
+Consul's carriage not nice. Shall syce buy ribbons?"
+
+"Yes," I answered, tossing him the rest of the coppers, "and get a
+new one for your arm."
+
+I had forgotten for the moment that it was the 31st of December. The
+syce touched his hand to his forehead and salaamed.
+
+Through the spaces of the protecting chicks I caught glimpses of
+my Malay kebun, or gardener, squatting on his bare feet, with his
+bare knees drawn up under his armpits, hacking with a heavy knife at
+the short grass. The mottled crotons, the yellow allamanda and pink
+hibiscus bushes, the clump of Eucharist lilies, the great trailing
+masses of orchids that hung among the red flowers of the stately
+flamboyant tree by the green hedge, joined to make me forget the
+midwinter date on the calendar. The time seemed in my half-dream July
+in New York or August in Washington.
+
+Ah Minga, the "boy" in flowing pantalets and stiffly starched blouse,
+came silently along the wide veranda, with a cup of tea and a plate
+of opened mangosteens. I roused myself, and the dreams of sleighbells
+and ice on window-panes, that had been fleeting through my mind at
+the first mention of New Year's Day by the syce, vanished.
+
+Ah Minga, too, mentioned, as he placed the cool, pellucid globes
+before me, "To-mollow New Year Dlay, Tuan!"
+
+On Christmas Day, Ah Minga had presented the mistress with the gilded
+counterfeit presentment of a Joss. The servants, one and all, from Zim,
+the cookee, to the wretched Kling dhobie (wash-man), had brought some
+little remembrance of their Christian master's great holiday.
+
+In respecting our customs, they had taken occasion to establish one of
+their own. They had adopted New Year's as the day when their masters
+should return their presents and good will in solid cash.
+
+At midnight we were awakened by a regular Fourth of July
+pandemonium. Whistles from the factories, salvos from Fort Canning,
+bells from the churches, Chinese tom-toms, Malay horns, rent the
+air from that hour until dawn with all the discords of the Orient
+and a few from Europe. By daylight the thousands of natives from all
+quarters of the peninsula and neighboring islands had gathered along
+the broad Ocean Esplanade of Singapore in front of the Cricket Club
+House, to take part in or watch the native sports by land and sea.
+
+The inevitable Chinaman was there, the Kling, the Madrasman, the Sikh,
+the Arab, the Jew, the Chitty, or Indian money-lender,--they were all
+there, many times multiplied, unconsciously furnishing a background
+of extraordinary variety and picturesqueness.
+
+At ten o'clock the favored representatives of the Anglo-Saxon race
+took their place on the great veranda of the Cricket Club, and gave
+the signal that we would condescend to be amused for ten hours. Then
+the show commenced. There were not over two hundred white people to
+represent law and civilization amid the teeming native population.
+
+In the centre of the beautiful esplanade or playground rose the heroic
+statue of Sir Stamford Raffles, the English governor who made Singapore
+possible. To my right, on the veranda, stood a modest, gray-haired
+little man who cleared the seas of piracy and insured Singapore's
+commercial ascendency, Sir Charles Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak. A little
+farther on, surrounded by a brilliant suite of Malay princes, was
+the Sultan of Johore, whose father sold the island of Singapore to
+the British.
+
+The first of the sports was a series of foot-races between Malay and
+Kling boys, almost invariably won by the Malays, who are the North
+American Indians of Malaysia--the old-time kings of the soil. They are
+never, like the Chinese, mere beasts of burden, or great merchants,
+nor do they descend to petty trade, like the Indians or Bengalese. If
+they must work they become horsemen.
+
+Next came a jockey race, in which a dozen long-limbed Malays took
+each a five-year-old child astride his shoulders, and raced for
+seventy-five yards. There were sack-races and greased-pole climbing
+and pig-catching.
+
+Now came a singular contest--an eating match. Two dozen little Malay,
+Kling, Tamil, and Chinese boys were seated at regular intervals about
+an open circle by one of the governor's aids. Not one could touch the
+others in any way. Each had a dry, hard ship-biscuit before him. A
+pistol shot and two dozen pairs of little brown fists went pit-a-pat
+on the two dozen hard biscuits, and in an instant the crackers were
+broken to powder.
+
+Then commenced the difficult task of forcing the powdered pulp down
+the little throats. Both hands were called into full play during the
+operation, one for crowding in, the other for grinding the residue
+and patting the stomach and throat. Each little competitor would shyly
+rub into the warm earth, or hide away in the folds of his many-colored
+sarong, as much as possible, or when a rival was looking the other way,
+would snap a good-sized piece across to him.
+
+The little brown fellow who won the fifty-cent piece by finishing
+his biscuit first simply put into his mouth a certain quantity of the
+crushed biscuit, and with little or no mastication pushed the whole
+mass down his throat by sheer force.
+
+The minute the contest was decided, all the participants, and
+many other boys, rushed to a great tub of molasses to duck for
+half-dollars. One after another their heads would disappear into
+the sticky, blinding mass, as they fished with their teeth for the
+shining prizes at the bottom.
+
+Successful or otherwise, after their powers were exhausted they would
+suddenly pull out their heads, reeking with the molasses, and make
+for the ocean, unmindful of the crowds of natives in holiday attire
+who blocked their way.
+
+Then came a jinrikisha race, with Chinese coolies pulling Malay
+passengers around a half-mile course. Letting go the handles of their
+wagons as they crossed the line, the coolies threw their unfortunate
+passengers over backward.
+
+Tugs of war, wrestling matches, and boxing bouts on the turf finished
+the land sports, and we all adjourned to the yachts to witness those
+of the sea. There were races between men-of-war cutters, European
+yachts, rowing shells, Chinese sampans, and Malay colehs with great,
+dart-like sails, so wide-spreading that ropes were attached to the
+top of the masts, and a dozen naked natives hung far out over the
+side of the slender boat to keep it from blowing over. In making the
+circle of the harbor they would spring from side to side of the boat,
+sometimes lost to our view in the spray, often missing their footholds,
+and dragging through the tepid water.
+
+Between times, while watching the races, we amused ourselves
+throwing coppers to a fleet of native boys in small dugouts beneath
+our bows. Every time a penny dropped into the water, a dozen little
+bronze forms would flash in the sunlight, and nine times out of ten
+the coin never reached the bottom.
+
+Last of all came the trooping of the English colors on the magnificent
+esplanade, within the shadow of the cathedral; the march past of the
+sturdy British artillery and engineers, with their native allies, the
+Sikhs and Sepoys; then the feu-de-joie, and New Year's was officially
+recognized by the guns of the fort.
+
+That night we danced at Government House,--we exiles of the Temperate
+Zone,--keeping up to the last the fiction that New Year's Day under
+a tropic sky and within sound of the tiger's wail was really January
+first. But every remembrance and association was, in our homesick
+thoughts, grouped about an open arch fire, with the sharp, crisp
+creak of sleigh-runners outside, in a frozen land fourteen thousand
+miles away.
+
+
+
+
+
+IN THE BURST OF THE SOUTHWEST MONSOON
+
+A Tale of Changhi Bungalow
+
+
+We had been out all day from Singapore on a wild-pig hunt. There were
+eight of us, including three young officers of the Royal Artillery,
+besides somewhere between seventy and a hundred native beaters. The
+day had been unusually hot, even for a country whose regular record
+on the thermometer reads 150 degrees in the sun.
+
+We had tramped and shot through jungle and lallang grass, until, when
+night came on, I was too tired to make the fourteen miles back across
+the island, and so decided to push on a mile farther to a government
+"rest bungalow."  I said good-by to my companions and the game, and
+accompanied only by a Hindu guide, struck out across some ploughed
+lands for the jungle road that led to and ended at Changhi.
+
+Changhi was one of three rest bungalows, or summer resorts, if
+one can be permitted to mention summer in this land of perpetual
+summer. They were owned and kept open by the Singapore Government for
+the convenience of travellers, and as places to which its own officials
+can flee from the cares of office and the demands of society. I had
+stopped at Changhi Bungalow once for some weeks when my wife and a
+party of friends and all our servants were with me. It was lonely
+even then, with the black impenetrable jungle crowding down on three
+sides, and a strip of the blinding, dazzling waters of the uncanny
+old Straits of Malacca in front.
+
+There were tigers and snakes in the jungle, and crocodiles and sharks
+in the Straits, and lizards and other things in the bungalow. I thought
+of all this in a disjointed kind of a way, and half wished that I
+had stayed with my party. Then I noticed uneasily that some thick
+oily-looking clouds were blotting out the yellow haze left by the sun
+over on the Johore side. A few big hot drops of rain splashed down into
+my face, as I climbed wearily up the dozen cement steps of the house.
+
+The bamboo chicks were all down, and the shutter-doors securely locked
+from the inside, but there was a long rattan chair within reach,
+and I dropped into it with a sigh of satisfaction, while my guide
+went out toward the servant-quarters to arouse the Malay mandor, or
+head gardener, whom H. B. M.'s Government trusted with this portion
+of her East Indian possessions.
+
+As might have been expected, that high functionary was not to be
+found, and I was forced to content myself, while my guide went on to
+a neighboring native police station to make inquiries. I unbuttoned
+my stiff kaki shooting-jacket, lit a manila, which my mouth was too
+dry to smoke, and gazed up at the ceiling in silence.
+
+It was stiflingly hot. Even the cicadas in the great jungle tree, that
+towered a hundred and fifty feet above the house, were quiet. Every
+breath I took seemed to scorch me, and the balls of my eyes ached. The
+sky had changed to a dull cartridge color.
+
+A breeze came across the hot, glaring surface of the Straits, and
+stirred the tops of a little clump of palms, and died away. It brought
+with it the smell of rain.
+
+For a moment there was a dead stillness,--not even a lizard clucked
+on the wall back of me; then all at once the thermometer dropped down
+two or three degrees, and a tearing wind struck the bamboo curtains
+and stretched them out straight; the tops of the massive jungle trees
+bent and creaked; there was a blinding flash and a roar of thunder,
+and all distance was lost in darkness and rain. It was one of the
+quick, fierce bursts of the southwest monsoon.
+
+I did not move, although wet to the skin.
+
+Presently I could make out three blurred figures fighting their way
+slowly against the storm across the compound. One was the guide;
+the second was the mandor, naked save for a cotton sarong around his
+waist; the third was a stranger.
+
+The trio came up on the veranda--the stranger hanging behind, with an
+apologetic droop of his head. He was a white man, in a suit of dirty,
+ragged linen. It took but one look to place him. I had seen hundreds of
+them "on the beach" in Singapore,--there could be no mistake. "Loafer"
+was written all over him--from his ragged, matted hair to the fringe
+on the bottom of his trousers. He held a broken cork helmet, that had
+not seen pipe-clay for many a month, in his grimy hands, and scraped
+one foot and ducked his dripping head, as I turned toward him with
+a gruff,--
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," he said, in a harsh, rasping voice, "but I heard
+that the American Consul was here. I am an American."
+
+He looked up with a watery leer in his eyes.
+
+"Go on," I said, without offering to take the hand of my
+fellow-countryman.
+
+He let his arm fall to his side.
+
+"I ain't got any passport; that went with the rest, and I never had
+the heart to ask for another."
+
+He gave a bad imitation of a sob.
+
+"Never mind the side play," I commented, as he began to rumble in
+the bottomless pocket of his coat. "I will supply all that as you go
+along. What is it you want?"
+
+He withdrew his hand and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
+
+"Come in out of the rain and you won't need to do that," I said,
+amused at this show of feeling.
+
+"I thought as how you might give a countryman a lift," he whined.
+
+I smiled and stepped to the door.
+
+"Boy, bring the gentleman a whiskey and soda."
+
+The "boy" brought the liquor, while I commenced to unstrap and dry
+my Winchester.
+
+My fellow-countryman did not move, but stood nervously tottering from
+one leg to the other, as I went on with my task. He coughed once or
+twice to attract my attention.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, but I meant work--good, honest work. Work was what
+I wanted, to earn this very glass of whiskey for my little gal. She's
+sick, sir, sick--sick in a hut at the station."
+
+"Your little what?" I asked in amazement.
+
+"My little gal, sir. She's all that's left me. If you'll trust me
+with the glass, I'll take it to her. Can't give you no security,
+I'm afraid, only the word of a broken-down old father, who has got
+a little gal what he loves better than life!"
+
+My long experience with tramps and beach-combers was at fault. No
+words can convey an idea of the pathos and humility he threw into
+his tone and actions. The yearning of the voice, the almost divine
+air of self-abnegation, the subdued flash of pride here and there
+that suggested better days, the hopeless droop of the arms, and the
+irresolute tremble of the corners of his mouth would have appealed
+to the heart of a heathen idol. That one of his caste should refuse
+a glass of "Usher's Best," and be willing to brave the burst of a
+southwest monsoon to take it to any one--child, mother, or wife--was
+incredible.
+
+"Drink it," I said roughly. "You will need it before you get to the
+station. Boy, bring me my waterproof and an umbrella. Now out you
+go. We'll see whether this 'little gal' is male or female,--seven
+or seventy."
+
+The loafer snatched up his helmet with an avidity that admitted of
+no question as to his earnestness.
+
+We made a wild rush down across the oozing compound, through a little
+strip of dripping jungle, over a swaying foot-bridge that spanned
+the muddy Sonji Changhi, and along the sandy floor of a cocoanut
+grove. On the outskirts of a station we came upon a deserted bungalow,
+that was trembling in the storm on its rotten supports.
+
+We went up its rickety ladder and across its open bamboo floor, to
+the darkest corner, where, on an old mat under the only dry spot in
+the hut, lay a bundle of rags.
+
+My companion dropped down among the decayed stumps of pineapples and
+cocoanut refuse, and commenced to croon in a hoarse voice, "Daddy
+come,--Daddy come,--poor dearie," and made a motion as though to put
+the bottle to a small, dirty white face that I could just make out
+among the rags.
+
+I pushed him aside and gathered the unconscious little burden up into
+my arms. There was no time for sentiment. Every minute I expected
+the miserable old shelter would go over.
+
+We made our way as best we could back through the darkness and
+driving blasts of rain. The loafer followed with a long series of "God
+bless you's." He essayed once or twice to hold the umbrella over his
+"little gal's" head, but each time the wind turned it inside out, and
+he gave it up with an air of feeble inconsequence that characterized
+all his movements.
+
+I put my burden down on a couch in the dining room, and chafed her
+hands and feet, while the boy brought a beer bottle filled with
+hot water.
+
+It was a sweet little face, pinched and drawn, with big hazel eyes,
+that looked up into mine as my efforts sent the blood coursing through
+her veins. She was between five and six years old. A mass of dark
+brown hair, unkempt and matted, fell about her face and shoulders.
+
+I wrapped a rug about her. She was asleep almost before I had finished.
+
+A little later I roused her, and she nestled her damp little head
+against my shoulder as I gave her some soup; but her eyelids were
+heavy, and it seemed almost cruel to keep her awake, even for the
+food she so badly needed. The father had shuffled about uneasily
+during my motherly attentions, and seemed relieved when I was through.
+
+While the boy brought a steaming hot curry and a goodly supply of
+whiskey and soda, I turned the self-confessed father of the big hazel
+eyes into the bath-room.
+
+With the grime and dirt off his face he was pale and haggard. There
+were big blue marks under his shifting gray eyes and his hair hung
+ragged and singed about his ears.
+
+He had discarded his dirty linen for a blue-flannel bathing-suit that
+some former high official of H. B. M. service had left behind. There
+were traces of starvation or dissipation in every movement. His hand
+trembled as he conveyed the hot soup to his blue lips.
+
+Gradually the color came back to his sunken cheeks, and by the time
+he had laid in the second plate of curry and drank two whiskey and
+sodas he looked comparatively sleek and respectable. Even his anxiety
+for the little sleeper seemed to fade out of his weak face.
+
+I had been watching him narrowly during the meal. I could not make
+up my mind whether he was a clever actor or only an unfortunate;
+he might be the latter, and still be what I was certain of,--a scamp.
+
+The wind whistled and roared about the great verandas and into the
+glassless windows with all the vehemence of a New England snowstorm. It
+caught our well-protected punkah-lamps, and turned their broad flames
+into spiral columns of smoke. Ever and again a flash of lightning
+flared in our eyes, and revealed the water of the narrow straits
+lashed into a white fury.
+
+I should have been thankful for the company of even a dog on such a
+night, and think the loafer felt it, for I could see that he was more
+at ease with every crash of thunder. I tiptoed over to the "little
+gal," and noted her soft, regular breathing and healthful sleep,
+undisturbed by the fierce storm outside.
+
+I lit a manila, and handed one to my companion. We puffed a moment
+in silence, while the boy replenished our glasses.
+
+"Now," I said, tipping my chair back against the wall, "tell me
+your story."
+
+My guest's face at once assumed the expression of the professional
+loafer. My faith in him began to wane.
+
+"I am an American," he began glibly enough under the combined effects
+of the whiskey and dinner, "an old soldier. I fought with Grant in
+the Wilderness, and--"
+
+"Of course," I interrupted, "and with Sherman in Georgia. I have heard
+it all by a hundred better talkers than you. Suppose you skip it."
+
+I did not look up, but I was perfectly familiar with the expression
+of injured innocence that was mantling his face.
+
+He began again in a few minutes, but his voice had lost some of its
+engaging frankness.
+
+"I am the son of a kind and indulgent mother,--God bless her. My
+father died before I knew him--"
+
+I moved uneasily in my chair.
+
+He hurried on:--
+
+"I fell in bad ways in spite of her saintly love, and ran away to sea."
+
+"Look here, my friend," I said, "I am sorry to spoil your little tale,
+but it is an old one. Can't you give me something new? Now try again."
+
+He looked at me unsteadily under his thin eyebrows, shuffled restlessly
+in his seat, and said with something like a sob in his voice:--
+
+"Well, sir, I will. You have been kind to me and taken my little gal
+in; you saved her life, and, for a change, I'll tell you the truth."
+
+He drew himself up a little too ostentatiously, threw his head back,
+and said proudly:--
+
+"I am a gentleman born."
+
+"Good," I laughed. "Now you are on the right track, and besides you
+look it."
+
+"Ah! you may sneer," he retorted, "but I tell you the truth."
+
+His face flushed and his lip quivered. He brought his fist down on
+the table.
+
+"I tell you my father,--ah! but never mind my father." His voice
+failed him.
+
+"Certainly," I replied. "Only get on with your story."
+
+"I came out to India from Boston as a young man," he continued,
+"either in '66 or '68, I forget which."
+
+"Try '67," I suggested.
+
+"It was not '67," he exclaimed angrily, "it was either '66 or '68."
+
+"Or some other date. However, that's but a detail. Proceed."
+
+"Sir, you can make sport of me, but what I am telling you is God's
+truth. May I be struck dead if one lie passes my lips. I came out to
+plant coffee; I thought, like many others, that I had only to cut down
+the jungle and put in coffee plants, and make my everlasting fortune."
+
+"And didn't you?" I asked, glancing at his dilapidated old helmet
+that hung over the corner of the sideboard.
+
+"Look at me!" he burst forth, springing upon his feet, his breast
+heaving under his blue pajamas.
+
+"Pardon the question," I answered. "Go on, you are doing bravely."
+
+He sank back into his chair with a commendable air of dignity.
+
+"I had a little money of my own," he continued, "and opened up an
+estate. It promised well, but I soon came to the end of my small
+capital. I thought I could go to Calcutta and Bombay and Simla,
+and cultivate my mind by travel and society, while the bushes were
+growing. Well it ended in the same old way. I got into the chitties'
+hands--they are worse than Jews--at two per cent a month on a mortgage
+on my estate. Then I went back to it with a determination to pay up
+my debt, make my estate a success, and after that to see the world.
+I worked, sir, like a nigger, and for a time was able to meet my naked
+creditor, from month to month, hoping all the time against hope for
+a bumper crop."
+
+"I understand," I said. "Your bumper crop did not come, and your
+chitty did. Where does she come in?" I nodded in the direction of
+the little sleeper.
+
+He glanced uneasily in the same direction, and a tear gathered in
+his eye.
+
+"I married on credit, sir, the daughter of an English army officer. It
+was infernal. But, sir, you would have done likewise. Live under the
+burning sun of India for four years, struggle against impossibilities
+and hope against hope, and then have a pair of great hazel eyes look
+lovingly into yours and a pair of red lips turned up to yours,--and
+tell me if you would not have closed your eyes to the future, and
+accepted this precious gift as though it were sent from above?"
+
+The pale, shrunken face of the speaker glowed, and his faded eyes
+lit up with the light of love.
+
+"We were happy for a time, and the little gal was born, but the
+bumper crop did not come. Then, sir, I sold farm tools and my horse,
+and sent the wife to a hill station for her health. I kept the little
+gal. I stayed to work, as none of my natives ever worked. It was a
+gay station to which she went. You know the rest,--she never came
+back. That ended the struggle. I would have shot myself but for the
+little one. I took her and we wandered here and there, doing odd jobs
+for a few months at a time. I drifted down to Singapore, hoping to
+better myself, but, sir, I am about used up. It's hard--hard."
+
+He buried his head in his long, thin fingers, and sat perfectly still.
+
+There was a sound outside above the roar of the wind and the rain. At
+first faint and intermittent, it grew louder, and continuous, and
+came close. There was no mistaking it,--the march of booted men.
+
+"What's that?" asked my companion, with a start.
+
+"Tommy Atkins," I replied, "the clang of the ammunition boot as big
+as life."
+
+His face grew ashy white, and he looked furtively around the room.
+
+"What's the matter?" I exclaimed, but as I asked, I knew.
+
+I opened the bath-room door and shoved him in.
+
+"Go in there" I said, "and compose some more fairy tales."
+
+He was scarcely out of sight when the front door was thrown open,
+and a corporal's guard, wet yet happy, marched into the room.
+
+The corporal stood with his back to the door, and gave himself
+mental words of command,--"Eyes left, eyes right,"--then, as a last
+resource,--"eyes under the table." He had not noticed the little bundle
+in the dark corner. He drew himself up and gave the military salute.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, but we are out for a deserter from the 58th,--Bill
+Hulish,--we 'ave tracked him 'ere, and with the compliments of the
+commanding hofficer, we'll search the 'ouse."
+
+"Search away," I answered, as I heard the outside bath-room door open
+and close softly.
+
+They returned empty-handed, but not greatly disappointed.
+
+"Wet night, corporal," I ventured.
+
+"One of the worst as ever I knew, sir," he replied, eying the whiskey
+bottle and the two half-drained glasses.
+
+"'Ad a long march, sir, fourteen miles."
+
+I pushed the bottle toward him, and with a deprecatory salute he
+turned out a stiff drink.
+
+"'Ere's to yer 'ealth, sir, an' may ye always 'ave an extra glass
+ready for a visitor."
+
+I smiled, and motioned for his men to do likewise, and then, because
+he was a man of sweet composure and had not asked any questions as
+to the extra glass and chair, told him that his bird had flown.
+
+"Bad 'cess to him, sir, 'e's led us a pretty chase for these last
+four weeks. If 'e was only a deserter I wouldn't mind, but 'e's a
+kidnapper. Leastways, Tommy Loud's young'n turned up missin' the day
+he skipped, an' we ain't seen nothin' of 'er since."
+
+"Is this she?" I asked, leading him to the cot.
+
+Hardly looking at the child, he raised her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+"God be praised, sir," he said with a show of feeling. "We 'ave got
+her back. I think her mother would 'ave died if we 'ad come back again
+without her,--but, O my little darlin', you look cruel bad. Drugged,
+sir, that's what she is. Drugged to keep 'er quiet and save food. The
+blag'ard!"
+
+"But what did he take her for?" I asked.
+
+"Bless you, sir," replied the corporal, "she was his stock in trade. I
+reckon she's drawn many dibs out of other people's pockets that would
+'ave been nestlin' there to-day if it 'adn't 'a' bin for 'er."
+
+Then a broad grin broke over his ruddy features, and he looked at
+me quizzically.
+
+"But 'e was a great play hactor, sir."
+
+"And a poet," I added enthusiastically.
+
+"'E could beat Kipling romancin', sir." He checked himself, as though
+ashamed of awarding such meed of praise to his ex-colleague.
+
+"But we must be goin'; orders strict. With your permission, sir,
+I will leave her with a guard of one man for to-night, and send the
+ambulance for her in the morning."
+
+He drew up his little file, saluted, and marched out into the rain
+and wind, with all the cheerfulness of a duck.
+
+I could hear them singing as they crossed the compound and struck
+into the jungle road:--
+
+
+    "Oh, it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, go away';
+    But it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play,
+    The band begins to--"
+
+
+A peal of thunder that shook the bungalow from its attap roof to its
+nebong pillars drowned the melody and drove me inside.
+
+
+
+
+
+A PIG HUNT
+
+In the Malayan Jungle
+
+
+The thermometer stood at 155 degrees in the sun. The dry lallang grass
+crackled and glowed and returned long irregular waves of heat to the
+quivering metallic dome above.
+
+The sensitive mimosa, at our feet, had long since surrendered to the
+fierce wooing of the sun-god, submissively folding its leaves and
+then its branches and putting aside its morning dress of green for
+one more in keeping with the color of the earth and sky. Even the
+clamorous cicada had hushed its insistent whir.
+
+We were dressed in brown kaki suits. Wide-spreading cork helmets
+were filled with the stiff varnished leaves of the mango, and wet
+handkerchiefs were draped from underneath their rims; yet, after an
+hour of exposure, our flesh ached--it was tender to the touch. The
+barrel of my Express scorched my hand, and I wrapped my camerabuna
+about it. But then it was no hotter than any other day. In fact,
+we never gave a thought to the weather.
+
+We were formed in a line, perhaps two miles in length, in a
+deserted pepper plantation, fronting a jungle of timboso trees
+and rubber-vines. I squatted patiently under the checkered shade
+of a neglected coffee tree and kept my eyes fixed on the seemingly
+impenetrable walls of the jungle. A hundred feet to the right and the
+left, under like protection, were two of my companions, determined
+like myself to be successful in three points,--to have the first shot
+at the pigs, to avoid getting shot, or shooting a neighbor. But our
+minds rose above mental cautions with the first faint halloos of the
+Hindu shikaris on the opposite side of the jungle. In another moment
+the babel gave place to a confusion of shrieks, howls, yells, laughs,
+barking of dogs, beating of tins, blowing of horns, explosions of
+crackers, and a din that represents all that is wild and untamable
+in three nations. It is a weird, almost appalling prologue. Those
+laughs!--they are a study--they fairly chill the blood--they would make
+the fortune of a comic actor--so intense, thrilling, surprising, and
+seemingly filled with a ghoulish glee. Over and over they would break
+out clear and distinct above the tintamarre. I have never been able
+to find out whether it belongs to the Malay or the Kling or the Tamil.
+
+The yelling became more distinct. A troop of brown and silver wah-wahs
+swung with their long arms out to the very edge of the jungle and then
+up to the tops of the highest trees, the while uttering the full,
+clear note from which they take their name; followed by a troop of
+gray little jungle monkeys, whistling and scolding at the unwonted
+disturbance. A colony of cicadas on the limbs of a great gutta tree
+awoke into life and pierced our ears with buzz-saw strains.
+
+In an instant we were all alert,--the heat was forgotten. At any minute
+a herd of pigs might dart out and on to us, or possibly our drivers
+might rouse a tiger. The screaming ascended to a delirious pitch--the
+pigs were discovered! I threw my cartridge from the magazine into the
+barrel. It was a 50×95 Express and I had perfect confidence that one
+ball to a pig was sufficient.
+
+The yelling grew nearer until, with a sudden deploy, one hundred
+Klings and Malays dashed out into the open, close on the heels of a
+dozen wild pigs. We could just see their black backs above the grass,
+as they broke down a little ravine in single file, led by a big,
+hoary boar with tusks. They were three hundred yards off, but I could
+not resist the temptation. I brought my rifle to my shoulder and fired
+twice in rapid succession. Two or three more shots were heard beyond. I
+threw out the shells as the herd lunged on me. It was so sudden that
+I was dazed, but fortunately so were the pigs, with the exception of
+a wary old leader, who made into the jungle behind, almost between my
+legs. One little fellow threw himself on his haunches for an instant
+and stared at me. I came to my senses first and put a ball into his
+wondering eyes. My second shot was so near that it tore away a pound
+of meat from his shoulder and killed him instantly.
+
+The firing had opened up all along the line. The drivers were
+pushing in nearer and nearer, beating the grass and clumps of bushes,
+seemingly regardless of the widely flying balls. I suspect they held
+our prowess in contempt. I know they looked it, when it was discovered
+that out of the dozen pigs they had raised, we had allowed over half
+to escape. Then, too, their lives were insured, in a way; for they
+knew that their deaths would cost us twenty big Mexican dollars.
+
+Pig-hunting is the one big-game hunt that can be indulged in on the
+Malay Peninsula without great preparation and danger. Deer and tapirs
+are scarce. Tigers, or harimau as the Malays call them, abound, but
+live in the depths of the almost inaccessible jungle, and come forth
+only at rare intervals, except in the case of the man-eaters, who
+are usually ignominiously caught in pitfalls, very seldom affording
+true sport. Elephants are still hunted in the native states north
+of Singapore, but the sport is too expensive for the generality of
+sportsmen. One of the peculiar attributes of the Malayan tiger is his
+decided penchant for Chinese flesh, repeatedly striking down Chinese
+coolies in the fields to the exclusion of the Malays or Europeans who
+are working by their side. Perhaps once a month, a tiger or his skin
+will be brought into the city by natives, and several times at night
+I have heard them in the jungle; but to my knowledge only three have
+been shot by European sportsmen during my residence in the island. So
+wild pigs really remain the one item of big game.
+
+The pigs live in the jungle bordering plantations in which they can
+range for pineapples, sweet potatoes, and tapioca root. They are
+the ordinary wild hog, black in color, and fleet of foot. The older
+ones have good-sized tusks and show fight when cornered. The lone
+sportsman has very little chance of obtaining a shot, so they are
+hunted in large companies of from five to fifteen guns. Such parties
+generally organize a hunt at least once a week and leave Singapore
+early in the morning for an all-day shoot.
+
+The pig hunts organized by the officers of the Royal Artillery are
+the largest, and as a description of one is a description of all,
+I will take one up in regular order, rather than quote from many.
+
+We left Singapore at six o'clock in the morning in a four-horse
+dray. As the sun had not reached the tops of the trees, the
+atmosphere was mild and pleasant. A half-hour took us outside the
+great cosmopolitan city, of three hundred thousand inhabitants. The
+low, cool bungalows with their wide-spreading lawns gave place to
+the grass-thatched huts of the Chinese coolies, and the omnipresent
+eating-stalls. A hard-packed road carried us through almost endless
+cocoanut groves. At intervals a Malay kampong, or village, was
+revealed in the heart of the grove, its queer attap-thatched houses
+raised a man's height from the ground, and connected with it by rickety
+ladders. Dozens of nude little children played under the shadow of the
+palms, while the comely faces and syrah-stained teeth of their mothers
+peeped at us from behind low barred windows. The cocoanut groves were
+superseded by tapioca, pepper, and coffee plantations. At regular
+distances were neat stations, manned by Malay and Sikh police. The
+roads over which we dashed were in perfect repair. In another hour
+we were nine miles from Singapore and near our first "beat."
+
+Major Rich had sent his shikaris on the night before to collect
+beaters, so that when we arrived we were welcomed by a small
+army of Klings, Tamils, and Malays, and the usual sprinkling of
+pariah dogs. A wild, strange set are these beaters. They toil not,
+neither do they spin. Their wives do that occasionally, making a
+few sarongs for home use and an odd one for the market. Cocoanuts,
+pineapples, a little patch of paddy with a dozen half-wild chickens,
+and perchance, if they are not Mohammedans, a pig with its litter,
+afford them sustenance. For their day's beating they were to receive
+fifteen cents apiece. They were all ranged in line and counted,
+after which we took up our march through a plantation of tapioca,
+the brush standing about level with our heads. Chinese coolies
+were working about its roots keeping down the great pest of Malayan
+farmers,--lallang grass. The tapioca was broken in places by a few
+acres of pepper vines and again by neglected coffee shrubs.
+
+Our procession was truly formidable. Fifty or more natives went on
+ahead making a path. Then we followed, fifteen in number, each with
+a native to carry his gun. The rear was brought up by twoscore more
+and half as many dogs. Three-quarters of an hour's walk brought us
+to our first beat. The head shikaris placed us in an open position,
+from fifty to one hundred yards apart, facing the jungle. The beaters,
+in the meantime, had gone by a long detour around the jungle to drive
+whatever it contained within reach of our guns.
+
+In the second of these beats (I described the first in the opening of
+this chapter) a deer ran out far in advance of the pigs. We caught
+but a fleeting glimpse of it above the grass. My gun and that of my
+neighbor went off simultaneously. The deer disappeared. We rushed
+to the spot and found the leaves dyed with blood. Then commenced a
+chase, which, although fruitless, was well worth the exertion. All
+the panorama of tropical life seemed to lay in our tracks. For
+an half-hour we traversed the rolling plain with its burden of
+grass. Some smoker dropped a match in it, and in an instant it was
+all ablaze, spreading away like a whirlwind, burning only the very
+tips, toward a distant jungle. Then we dove into a bosky wood by
+a narrow winding path, and through a stream of water. The path was
+like a tunnel, the dense foliage shutting it in on both sides and
+above. The thorns of the rattans reached down and tore our clothes,
+and long trailing rubber-vines caught up our helmets and held our
+feet. In a marshy bit of jungle, a small colony of unwieldy sago
+palms found root, while pitcher-plants and orchids hung from almost
+every limb. Clumsy gray iguanas and long-tailed lizards of a brilliant
+green rushed up the trunks of lichen-covered trees. Troops of monkeys
+went scattering away on all sides, and black squirrels chattered on in
+the perfect security of the dim obscurity. In a bit of sandy bottom,
+a silken-haired, zebra-striped tapir scuttled away ere we were half
+alive to his presence.
+
+Outside was the metallic glare of the Malayan sun once more, now at its
+height, and another march was before us, over the burning hot mésa. At
+one o'clock we came upon a half-neglected plantation. The bloody trail
+of the deer led through it.  In the centre of the plantation we found
+a huge wedge-shaped attap house for drying pepper, and there we rested.
+
+Our tiffin baskets were six miles away in the dray, and sending after
+them was out of the question. So we foraged for eatables. Cocoanuts
+were easily obtained from trees all about, and a little whiskey
+mixed with its milk made a very refreshing drink. Pineapples, small
+oranges, limes, papayas, custard apples, and bananas were in large
+quantities. Our drivers added to this bill of fare by roasting the
+sweet-potato-like roots of the tapioca. After this impromptu lunch
+they compounded their quids of areca-nut and lime, and were ready
+once more to beat up an adjacent jungle for deer, pig, or tiger.
+
+As before, we were soon in position in the open before the jungle
+and the beaters were yelling at the top of their voices.
+
+I was half dozing in the sun, trying to smoke a Manila cigar that
+my mouth was too dry to draw, when I was aroused by my neighbor,
+who called my attention to a file of pigs at the extreme end of the
+line. I could just see what was going on from the knoll on which I
+was standing. They were received by Major Rich, one of his subalterns,
+and his Hindu gun-carrier. One of the file fell at the first volley,
+two more broke through the line, and the remaining six or seven,
+led by a fierce old fellow, from whose long tusks the foam dripped,
+turned up the line and charged point-blank on the next gunner, who
+fired and missed, but succeeded in keeping them between the line and
+the jungle. The fourth gun brought down the second pig and wounded the
+boar in the shoulder. Frantic with rage and pain, the old fellow tore
+up the ground and grass with his tusks and then, seeming to give up
+all idea of escape, wheeled sharply around and with his back bristles
+standing erect and his mouth open, charged directly on to the fifth,
+who was in the act of throwing the cartridge into the barrel. Taken
+completely by surprise, the officer gave one lusty yell and started
+to run in line with the gun on his right. The boar was gaining on
+him at every step when he tripped and fell. The report of No. 6's
+Winchester Express rang out almost simultaneously. For an instant we
+held our breaths, wondering whether the man or boar had been hit. It
+was a splendid shot and took a steady hand. The boar's shoulder was
+shattered and his heart reached. Two or three angry grunts and he lay
+quiet. He weighed close to three hundred pounds. The bristles on his
+back were white with age. All in all, he was not nice to look at.
+
+As half of our beaters were Mohammedans and so forbidden to touch pork,
+the burden of carrying our pigs the six miles through lallang grass,
+jungle and swamp land, came hard on our Brahmists. We knew that the
+only way to make them work was to call them "Sons of dogs" and walk
+off and leave them with a parting injunction to "get in by the time
+we did if they wanted their wages."
+
+This we did without deigning to notice their pathetic gestures,
+heart-rending appeals and protestations to the "Sons of the
+Heaven-Born" that they could not lift one hundredth part of such
+burdens.
+
+
+
+
+
+IN THE COURT OF JOHORE
+
+The Crowning of a Malayan Prince
+
+
+Tunku Ibrahim was just past seventeen when his father, the Sultan
+Abubaker, chose to recognize him as his heir and Crown Prince of
+Johore.
+
+From the day when the little prince had been deemed old enough to leave
+his mother and the women's palace until the day he had entered the
+native artillery as a lieutenant, he had been schooled and trained by
+the English missionaries and the Tuan Kadi, or Mohammedan high priest,
+as becomes a son of so illustrious a father.
+
+Tunku Ibrahim had made one trip to England when he was fifteen years
+old, and with his little cousin, the Tunku, or Prince, Othman, had
+dined with the Queen at Windsor.
+
+So, when the Sultan returned from a long stay at Carlsbad and found
+that the Sultana was dead and that Ibrahim had shot up into a man,
+he said:--
+
+"I am getting to be an old man and may die at any time. I will call
+all my nobles and people to the palace, and they shall see me place the
+crown on Ibrahim's head. Then if I die, he will rule, and the British
+will not take his country from him as long as he is wise and kingly."
+
+Whereupon his Highness sent out invitations to the Governor and all
+the foreign consuls in Singapore to be his guests and witness the
+crowning of his son.
+
+We started in quaint little box-like carriages, called gharries, long
+before the fierce Malayan sun had risen above the palms, accomplishing
+the fourteen miles across the beautiful island in little over an hour.
+
+The diminutive Deli ponies, not larger than Newfoundland dogs,
+broke into a run the moment we closed the lattice doors, and it was
+all their half-naked drivers could do to keep their perches on the
+swaying shafts.
+
+When we arrived at the little half-Malay, half-Chinese village of
+Kranji, on the shores of the famous old Straits of Malacca, our
+ponies were panting with heat, and the sun beat down on our white
+cork helmets with a quivering, naked intensity.
+
+Close up to the shore we found a long, keel boat manned by a dozen
+Malays in canary-colored suits. An aide-de-camp in a gorgeous uniform
+of gold and blue came forward and touched his forehead with the back
+of his brown palm and said in good English:--
+
+"His Highness awaits your excellencies."
+
+We stepped into the boat. The men lightly dipped their spear-shaped
+paddles in the tepid water, the rattan oarlocks squeaked shrilly,
+and the light prow shot out into the strait. We could see the istana,
+or palace, close down to the opposite shore, with the royal standard
+of white, with black star and crescent in centre, floating above it.
+
+For a moment I felt as though I had invaded some dreamland of my
+childhood.
+
+As our boat drew up to the iron pier that extended from the broad
+palace steps out into the straits, the guns from the little fort on the
+hill above the town boomed out a welcome and the flags of our several
+countries were run to the tops of the poles. A squad of native soldiers
+presented arms, and we were conducted up the stone steps, to the cool,
+dim corridors of the reception or waiting room. Malays in red fezzes
+and silken sarongs that hung about their legs like skirts conducted us
+along a marble hall to our rooms in a wing of the palace. Crowds were
+already gathering outside on the palace grounds, and we could look down
+from our windows and watch them as we bathed, dressed, and drank tea.
+
+The Chinese in their holiday pantaloons and shirts of pink, lavender,
+and blue silk: outnumbered all the other races; for, strange as it
+may seem, this Malay Sultan numbers among his 250,000 or 300,000
+subjects 175,000 Chinamen. They are as loyal and a great deal more
+industrious than the Malays, and many of them, styled Baboos, do not
+even know their native tongue.
+
+The Malays, dressed in gayly colored sarongs and bajus (jackets),
+with little rimless caps on their heads, squatted on their heels and
+chewed betel-nut, with eyes half closed and mouths distended.
+
+The Arab traders and shopkeepers were grouped about in little knots,
+gravely conversing and watching the files of gharries or carriages,
+and even rickshaws, that were bringing Malay unkus (princes not of
+the royal blood), patos (peers), holy men, and rich Chinese mandarins
+to the steps that led up to the plaza before the throne-room.
+
+The palace was two stories high, long and narrow. The interior rooms
+were separated from the outer walls by wide, airy corridors. The
+lattice-work windows were without glass and were arranged to admit
+the breezes from the ocean and ward off the searching rays of the
+equatorial sun. In these dusky corridors were long rattan chairs,
+divans, and tables covered with refreshments, and along its walls
+were arranged weapons of war and chase, Japanese suits of straw armor,
+Javanese shields, and Malay krises and limbings.
+
+In a little court at the end of our corridor, where a fountain splashed
+over a clump of lotus flowers and blue water lilies, a long-armed
+silver wah-wah monkey played with a black Malay cat that had a kink
+in its tail like the joint in a stovepipe, and chased the clucking
+little gray lizards up the polished walls.
+
+The gorgeous aide stared in poorly concealed wonderment, when he
+entered to conduct us to the grand salon, at my plain evening dress
+suit, destitute 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 glass from England, and rare old Satsuma ware from
+Japan. On a grand square German piano is a mass of music in which
+the masterpieces of all countries have equal rights with the national
+anthem of Johore.
+
+Going directly through a mass of Oriental drapery, we are in the
+throne-room, where are gathered the nobility 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 nobility of the kingdom, the ministers of
+state, and officers of the army and navy, the space back of them being
+filled with Chinese mandarins and towkoys, and rich native merchants
+in their picturesque costumes. In front of the nobility, 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 Circassian 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 nobles 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
+Johore,--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, bloody years when the
+deposed descendants of the once proud Emperors of Johore 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 stalactites. The fan-shaped, water-hoarding
+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 Johore 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 nobles, 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-glass mirror, at the far end, rested massive salvers of gold,
+engraven with the arms of Johore, 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 button 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 workmanship, and his fingers were cramped with almost
+priceless rings. In his buttonhole blazed a diamond orchid. The
+handle and scabbard of his sword were a solid mass 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, sturdy 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 Johore 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 Japanese 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 passed 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 glass 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 glass once more to his lips and said quietly,
+while his eyes twinkled at my confusion:--
+
+"Tell your great President that Abubaker, Sultan of Johore, 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 "God Save the Queen,"
+"My Country, 'tis of Thee," and bared our heads to the royal standard
+of Johore 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
+Johore, 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 Johore,
+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 Johore. 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 Johore 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 glassless 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 shining 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 assortment of wares, fez caps, brass
+finger-bowls, a praying rug, a few boxes of Japanese 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.
+
+The merchant gathers his flowing party-colored robes about him,
+tightens the turban head, and draws calmly at his water-pipe while a
+bevy of Hindu and Tamil women bargain for a new stud for their noses,
+a showy amulet, or a silver ring for their toes.
+
+Squatting right in the way of all passers is a Chinese travelling
+restaurant that looks like two flour barrels, one filled with drawers,
+the other containing a small charcoal fire. The old cookee, with
+his queue tied neatly up about his shaven head, takes a variety of
+mixtures from the drawers,--bits of dried fish, seaweed, a handful of
+spaghetti, possibly a piece of shark's fin, or better still a lump of
+bird's nest, places them in the kettle, as he yells from time to time,
+"Machen, machen" (eating, eating).
+
+Next to the Arab booth is a Chinese lamp shop, then a European
+dry-goods store, an Armenian law office, a Japanese bazaar, a foreign
+consulate.
+
+A babble of strange sounds and a jargon of languages salute the
+astonished boy's ears.
+
+In the broad well-paved streets about him a Malay syce, or driver,
+is trying to urge his spotted Deli pony, which is not larger than a
+Newfoundland dog, in between a big, lumbering two-wheeled bullock-cart,
+laden with oozing bags of vile-smelling gambier, and a great patient
+water buffalo that stands sleepily whipping the gnats from its black,
+almost hairless hide, while its naked driver is seated under the
+trees in the square quarrelling and gambling by turns.
+
+The gharry, which resembles a dry-goods box on wheels, set in with
+latticed windows, smashes up against the ponderous hubs of the
+bullock-cart. The meek-eyed bullocks close their eyes and chew their
+cuds, regardless of the fierce screams of the Malay or the frenzied
+objurgations of their driver.
+
+But no one pays any attention to the momentary confusion. A party of
+Jews dressed in robes of purple and red that sweep the street pass
+by, without giving a glance at the wild plunging of the half-wild
+pony. A Singhalese jeweller is showing his rubies and cat's-eyes to
+a party of Eurasian, or half-caste clerks, that are taking advantage
+of their master's absence from the godown to come out into the court
+to smoke a Manila cigarette and gossip. The mottled tortoise-shell
+comb in the vender's black hair, and his womanish draperies, give
+him a feminine aspect.
+
+An Indian chitty, or money-lender, stands talking to a brother,
+supremely unconscious of the eddying throng about. These chitties are
+fully six feet tall, with closely shaven heads and nude bodies. Their
+dress of a few yards of gauze wound about their waists, and red
+sandals, would not lead one to think that they handle more money
+than any other class of people in the East. They borrow from the
+great English banks without security save that of their caste name,
+and lend to the Eurasian clerks just behind them at twelve per cent
+a month. If a chitty fails, he is driven out of the caste and becomes
+a pariah. The caste make up his losses.
+
+Dyaks from Borneo idle by. Parsee merchants in their tall, conical
+hats, Chinese rickshaw runners and cart coolies, Tamil road-menders,
+Bugis, Achinese, Siamese, Japanese, Madras serving-men, negro firemen,
+Lascar sailors, throng the little square,--the agora of the commercial
+life of the city.
+
+Such is Singapore, embracing all the races of Asia and Europe. Is it
+any wonder that the American boy is bewildered, standing there under
+the great banian tree with a Malay in sarong and kris by his side,
+singing with his syrah-stained lips the glorious promises of the Koran?
+
+
+
+Look on the map of Asia for the southernmost point of the continent,
+and you will find it at the tip of the Malay Peninsula,--a giant
+finger that points down into the heart of the greatest archipelago in
+the world. At the very end of this peninsula, like a sort of cut-off
+joint of the finger, is the little island of Singapore, which is not
+over twenty-five miles from east to west, and does not exceed fifteen
+miles in width at its broadest point.
+
+The famous old Straits of Malacca, which were once the haunts of the
+fierce Malayan pirates, separate the island from the mainland and
+the Sultanate of Johore.
+
+The shipping that once worked its way through these narrow straits,
+in momentary fear that its mangrove-bound shores held a long, swift
+pirate prau, now goes further south and into the island-guarded harbor
+before Singapore.
+
+Nothing can be more beautiful than the sea approach to Singapore. As
+you enter the Straits, the emerald-green of a bevy of little islands
+obstructs the vision, and affords a grateful relief to the almost
+blinding glare of the Malayan sky, and the metallic reflections of
+the ocean.
+
+Some seem only inhabited by a graceful waving burden of strange,
+tropical foliage, and by a band of chattering monkeys; on others you
+detect a Malay kampong, or village, its umbrella-like houses of attap,
+close down to the shore, built high up on poles, so that half the time
+their boulevards are but vast mud-holes, the other half--Venice, filled
+with a moving crowd of sampans and fishing praus. A crowd of bronzed,
+naked little figures sport within the shadow of a maze of drying nets,
+and flee in consternation as the black, log-like head and cruel,
+watchful eyes of a crocodile glide quietly along the mangrove roots.
+
+On another island you discern the grim breastworks and the frowning
+mouth of a piece of heavy ordnance.
+
+Soon the island of Singapore reveals itself in a long line of dome-like
+hills and deep-cut shadows, whose stolid front quickly dissolves. The
+tufted tops of a sentinel palm, the wide-spreading arms of the banian,
+clumps of green and yellow bamboo, and the fan-shaped outlines of
+the traveller's palm become distinguishable. As the great, red,
+tropical sun rises from behind the encircling hills, the monotony
+of the foliage is relieved in places by objects which it all but hid
+from view. The granite minaret of the Mohammedan mosque, the carved
+dome of a Buddhist temple, the slender spire of an English cathedral,
+the bold projections of Government House, and the wide, white sides
+of the Municipal buildings all hold the eye.
+
+Then a maze of strange shipping screens the nearing shore--the military
+masts and yards of British and Dutch men-of-war, the high-heeled,
+shoe-like lines of Chinese junks, innumerable Malay and Kling sampans,
+and great, unwieldy Borneo tonkangs.
+
+For six miles along the wharves and for six miles back into the island
+extend the municipal limits of the city. Two hundred thousand people
+live within these limits; while outside, over the rest of the island
+along the sea-coast, in fishing villages, and in the interior on
+plantations of tapioca and pepper, live a hundred thousand more. Of
+these three hundred thousand over one hundred and seventy thousand
+are Chinese and only fifteen hundred are Europeans.
+
+Grouped about Raffles Square, and facing the Bund, are the great
+English, German, and Chinese houses that handle the three hundred
+million dollars' worth of imports and exports that pass in and out of
+the port yearly, and make Singapore one of the most important marts
+of the commercial world.
+
+Beyond, and back from the Square, is Tanglin, or the suburbs, where
+the government officials and the heads of these great firms live in
+luxurious bungalows, surrounded by a swarm of retainers.
+
+Let us drive from Raffles Square through this cosmopolitan city and
+out to Tanglin. Beginning at Cavanagh Bridge, at one end of which
+stands the great Singapore Club and the Post Office, is the ocean
+esplanade,--the pride of the city. It encloses a public playground
+of some fifteen acres, reclaimed from the sea at an expense of over
+two hundred thousand dollars. Every afternoon when the heat of the
+day has fallen from 150° to 80°, the European population meets on this
+esplanade park to play tennis, cricket, and football, and to promenade,
+gossip, and listen to the music of the regimental or man-of-war band.
+
+The drive from the sea, up Orchard Road to the Botanic Gardens,
+carries you by all the diversified life of the city. The Chinese
+restaurant is omnipresent. By its side sits a naked little bit of
+bronze, with a basket of sugar-cane--each stick, two feet long, cleaned
+and scraped, ready for the hungry and thirsty rickshaw coolies, who
+have a few quarter cents with which to gratify their appetites. On
+every veranda and in every shady corner are the Kling and Chinese
+barbers. They carry their barber-shops in a kit or in their pockets,
+and the recipient of their skill finds a seat as best he may. The
+barber is prepared to shave your head, your face, trim your hair,
+braid your queue, and pull the hairs out of your nose and ears.
+
+There is no special quarter for separate trades. Madras tailor shops
+rub shoulders with Malay blacksmith shops, while Indian wash-houses
+join Manila cigar manufactories.
+
+Once past the commercial part of the ride, the great bungalows of the
+European and Chinese merchants come into view. The immediate borders
+of the road itself reveal nothing but a dense mass of tropical verdure
+and carefully cut hedges, but at intervals there is a wide gap in
+the hedge, and a road leads off into the seeming jungle. At every
+such entrance there are posts of masonry, and a plate bearing the
+name of the manor and its owner.
+
+At the end of a long aisle of palms and banians you see a bit of
+wide-spreading veranda, and the full-open doors of a cool, black
+interior. Acres of closely shaven lawns, dotted with flowering shrubs
+of the brightest reds, deepest purples, and fieriest solferinos,
+beds of rich-hued foliage plants, and cool, green masses of ferns
+meet your eye.
+
+Perhaps you spy the inevitable tennis-court, swarming with players,
+and bordered with tables covered with tea and sweets. Red-turbaned
+Malay kebuns, or gardeners, are chasing the balls, and scrupulously
+clean Chinese "boys" are passing silently among the guests with trays
+of eatables.
+
+Dozens of gharries dodge past. Hundreds of rickshaws pull out of
+the way.
+
+A great landau, drawn by a pair of thoroughbred Australian horses,
+driven by a Malay syce, and footman in full livery, and containing a
+bare-headed Chinese merchant, in the simple flowing garments of his
+nation, dashes along. The victoria and the dog-cart of the European,
+and the universal palanquin of the Anglo-Indian, form a perfect maze
+of wheels.
+
+Suddenly the road is filled with a long line of bullock-carts. You
+swing your little pony sharply to one side, barely escaping the big
+wooden hub of the first cart. The syce springs down from behind,
+and belabors the native bullock driver, who, paying no attention to
+the blows rained upon his naked back, belabors his beasts in turn,
+calling down upon their ungainly humps the curses of his religion. The
+scene is so familiar that only a "globe-trotter" would notice it. Yet
+to me there is nothing more truly artistic, or more typically Indian
+in India, than a long line of these bullock-carts, laden with the
+products of the tropics,--pineapples, bananas, gambier, coffee,--urged
+on by a straight, graceful driver, winding slowly along a palm and
+banian shaded road. We would meet such processions at every turning,
+but never without recalling glorious childish pictures of the Holy
+Land and Bible scenery as we painted them, while our father read of a
+Sunday morning out of the old "Domestic Bible,"--we children pronounce
+it "Dom-i-stick,"--how the Lord said unto Moses, "Go take twenty fat
+bullocks and offer them as a sacrifice." As we would see these "twenty
+fat bullocks" time and again, I confess, with a feeling of reluctance,
+that some of the gilt and rose tint was rubbed from our childish
+pictures, and that a realistic artist drawing from the life before him
+would not deck out the patient subject in quite our extravagant colors.
+
+The color of the Indian bullock varies. Some are a dirty white,
+some a cream color, some almost pink, and a few are of the darker
+shades. They are about the size of our cows, seldom as large as a
+full-grown ox. Their horns, which are generally tipped with curiously
+carved knobs, and often painted in colors, are as diversified in
+their styles of architecture as are the horns of our cattle, though
+they are more apt to be straight and V-shaped. Their necks are always
+"bowed to the yoke," to once more use biblical phraseology, and seem
+almost to invite its humiliating clasp. Above their front legs is the
+mark of their antiquity, the great clumsy, flabby, fleshy, tawny hump,
+always swaying from side to side, keeping time to every plodding step
+of its sleepy owner. This seemingly useless mountain of flesh serves
+as a cushion against which rests a yoke. Not the natty yoke of our
+rural districts, but a simple pole, with a pin of wood through each
+end, to ride on the outside of the bullocks' necks. The burden comes
+against the projecting hump when the team pulls. To the centre of this
+yoke is tied, with strong withes of rattan, the pole of a cart, that
+in this nineteenth century is generally only to be seen in national
+museums, preserved as a relic of the first steps in the art of wagon
+building. And yet as a cart it is not to be despised: all the heavy
+traffic of the colonies is done within its rude board sides. It has
+two wheels, with heavy square spokes that are held on to a ponderous
+wooden axle-tree by two wooden pins. A platform bottom rests on the
+axle-tree, and two fence-like sides.
+
+The genie of the cart, the hewer of wood and drawer of water, is a
+tall, wiry, bronze-colored Hindu. He has a yard of white gauze about
+his waist, and another yard twisted up into a turban on his head. The
+dictates of fashion do not interest him. He does not plod along year in
+and year out behind his team for the pittance of sixty cents per day,
+to squander on the outside of his person. Not he. He has a wife up near
+Simla. He hopes to go back next year, and buy a bit of ground back from
+the hill on the Allabadd road from his father-in-law, old Mohammed
+Mudd. They have cold weather up in Simla, and he knows of a certain
+gown he is going to buy of a Chinaman in the bazaar. But his bullocks
+lag, and he saws on the gamooty rope that is attached to their noses,
+and beats them half consciously with his rattan whip. Ofttimes he will
+stand stark upright in the cart for a full half-hour, with his rattan
+held above his head in a threatening attitude, and talk on and on to
+his animals, apotheosizing their strength and patience, telling them
+how they are sacred to Buddha, how they are the companions of man, and
+how they shall have an extra chupa of paddy when the sun goes down,
+and he has delivered to the merchant sahib on the quay his load of
+gambier; or he reproves them for their slowness and want of interest,
+and threatens them with the rod, and tells them to look how he holds it
+above them. If in the course of the harangue one of the dumb listeners
+pauses to pick a mouthful of young lallang grass by the roadside,
+the softly crooning tones give place to a shriek of denunciation.
+
+The agile Kling springs down from his improvised pulpit, and rushes
+at the offender, calls him the offspring of a pariah dog, shows him
+the rattan, rubs it against his nose, threatening to cut him up with
+it into small pieces, and to feed the pieces to the birds. Then he
+discharges a volley of blows on the sleek sides of the offender, that
+seem to have little more effect than to raise a cloud of tiger gnats,
+and to cause the recipient to bite faster at the tender herbs.
+
+As the bullock-cart that has blocked our way, and at the same time
+inspired this description, shambles along down the shady road, and
+out of the reach of the syce's arms, the driver slips quietly up the
+pole of the cart until a hand rests on either hump, and commences
+to talk in a half-aggrieved, half-caressing tone to his team. Our
+syce translates. "He say bullock very bad to go to sleep before the
+palanquin of the Heaven-Born. If they no be better soon, their souls
+will no become men. He say he sorry that they make the great American
+sahib angry."
+
+The singular trio passes on, the driver praising and reprimanding
+by turns in the soft, musical tongue of his people, the historic
+beasts swinging lazily along, regardless of their illustrious past,
+all unconscious of the fact that their names are embalmed in sacred
+writ and Indian legend, and rounding a corner of the broad, red road,
+are lost to view amid the olive-green shadows of a clump of gently
+swaying bamboo. To me, for the moment, they seem to disappear, like
+phantoms, into the mists of the dim centuries, from out of which my
+imagination has called them forth.
+
+Soon you are at the wide-open gates of the Botanic Garden. A perfect
+riot of strange tropical foliage bursts upon the view. The clean, red
+road winds about and among avenues of palms, waringhans, dark green
+mangosteens, casuarinas, and the sweet-smelling hibiscus, all alike
+covered with a hundred different parasitic vines and ferns. Artificial
+lakes and moats are filled with the giant pods of the superb Victoria
+regia, and the flesh-colored cups of the lotus.
+
+In the translucent green twilight of the flower-houses a hundred
+varieties of the costly orchids thrive--not costly here. A shipload
+can be bought of the natives for three cents apiece.
+
+Walks carry you out into the dim aisles of the native jungle. Monkeys,
+surprised at your footsteps, spring from limb to limb, and swing,
+chattering, out of sight in a mass of rubber-vines. Splendid
+macadamized roads, that are kept in perfect repair by a force of
+naked Hindus and an iron roller drawn by six unwilling, hump-backed
+bullocks, spread out over the island in every direction. Leave one at
+any point outside the town, and plunge into the bordering jungle,
+and you are liable to meet a tiger or a herd of wild boar. The
+tigers swim across the straits from the mainland, and occasionally
+strike down a Chinaman. It is said that if a Chinaman, a Malay, and
+a European are passing side by side through a field, the tiger will
+pick out the Chinaman to the exclusion of the other two.
+
+Acres upon acres of pineapples stretch away on either hand, while
+patches of bananas and farms of coffee are interspersed with spice
+trees and sago swamps.
+
+This road system is the secret of the development of the agriculture,
+and one of the secrets of the rapid growth of the great English
+colonies. Were it not for the great black python, that lies sleeping in
+the road in front of you, or the green iguana that hangs in a timboso
+tree over your head, or a naked runner pulling a rickshaw, you might
+think you were travelling the wide asphaltum streets of Washington.
+
+The home of the European in Singapore is peculiar to the country. The
+parks about their great bungalows are small copies of the Botanic
+Gardens--filled with all that is beautiful in the flora of the
+East. From five to twenty servants alone are kept to look after its
+walks and hedges and lawns.
+
+A bungalow proper may consist of but a half-dozen rooms, and yet look
+like a vast manor house. It is the generous sweep of the verandas
+running completely around the house that lends this impression. Behind
+its bamboo chicks you retire on your return from the office. The
+Chinese "boy" takes your pipe-clayed shoes and cork helmet, and
+brings a pair of heelless grass slippers. If a friend drop in, you
+never think of inviting him into your richly furnished drawing-room,
+but motion him to a long rattan chair, call "Boy, bring the master
+a cup of tea," and pass a box of Manila cigars.
+
+Bungalows are one story high, with a roof of palm thatch, and are
+raised above the ground from two to five feet by brick pillars, leaving
+an open space for light and air beneath. Nearly every day it rains
+for an hour in torrents. The hot, steaming earth absorbs the water,
+and the fierce equatorial sun evaporates it, only to return it in a
+like shower the next day. So every precaution must be taken against
+dampness and dry-rot.
+
+In every well-ordered bungalow seven to nine servants are an
+absolute necessity, while three others are usually added from time
+to time. The five elements, if I may so style them, are the "boy,"
+or boys, the cook and his helpers, the horseman, the water-carrier,
+the gardener, and the maid. The adjuncts are the barber, the wash man,
+the tailor, and the watchman. In a mild way, you are at the mercy of
+these servants. Their duties are fixed by caste, one never intruding
+on the work of another. You must have all or none. Still this is
+no hardship. Only newcomers ever think, of trying to economize on
+servant bills. The record of the thermometer is too appalling, and
+you speedily become too dependent on their attentions.
+
+The Chinese "boy"--he is always the "boy" until he dies--is the
+presiding genius of the house. He it is who brings your tea and fruit
+to the bedside at 6 A.M., and lays out your evening suit ready for
+dinner, puts your studs in your clean shirt, brings your slippers,
+knows where each individual article of your wardrobe is kept, and,
+in fact, thinks of a hundred and one little comforts you would never
+have known of, had he not discovered them. He is your valet de chambre,
+your butler, your steward and your general agent, your interpreter and
+your directory. He controls the other servants with a rod of iron,
+but bows to the earth before the mem, or the master. For his ten
+Mexican dollars a month he takes all the burdens from your shoulders,
+and stands between you and the rude outside polyglot world. He is
+a hero-worshipper, and if you are a Tuan Besar--great man--he will
+double his attentions, and spread your fame far and wide among his
+brother majordomos.
+
+But a description of each member of the ménage and their duties would
+be in a large measure the description of the odd, complex life of
+the East.
+
+The growth of Singapore since its founding by Sir Stamford Raffles
+in 1819 would do honor to the growth of one of our Western cities.
+
+Within three months after the purchase of the ground from the Sultan
+of Johore, Raffles wrote to Lord Warren Hastings, the Governor:--
+
+"We have a growing colony of nearly five thousand souls," and a little
+later one of his successors wrote apologetically to Lord Auckland,
+discussing some project relating to Singapore finance;--
+
+"These details may appear to your Lordship petty, but then everything
+connected with these settlements is petty, except their annual surplus
+cost to the Government of India."
+
+To-day the city and colony has a population of over one million,
+and a revenue of five million dollars--a magnificent monument to its
+founder's foresight!
+
+From a commercial and strategic stand-point, the site of the city is
+unassailable. When the English and the Dutch divided the East Indies
+by drawing a line through the Straits of Malacca,--the English to hold
+all north, the Dutch all south,--the crafty Dutchman smiled benignly,
+with one finger in the corner of his eye, and went back to his coffee
+and tobacco trading in the beautiful islands of Java and Sumatra,
+pitying the ignorance of the Englishman, who was contented with the
+swampy jungles of an unknown and savage neck of land, little thinking
+that inside of a half century all his products would come to this
+same despised district for a market, while his own colonies would
+retrograde and gradually pass into the hands of the English.
+
+Singapore is one of the great cities of the world, the centre of all
+the East Indian commerce, the key of southern Asia, and one of the
+massive links in the armored chain with which Great Britain encircles
+the globe.
+
+
+
+
+
+A FIGHT WITH ILLANUM PIRATES
+
+The Yarn of a Yankee Skipper
+
+
+The Daily Straits Times on the desk before me contained a vivid
+word picture of the capture of the British steamship Namoa by three
+hundred Chinese pirates, the guns of Hong Kong almost within sight,
+and the year of our Lord 1890 just drawing to a close. The report
+seemed incredible.
+
+I pushed the paper across the table to the grizzled old captain
+of the Bunker Hill and continued my examination of the accounts of
+a half-dozen sailors of whom he was intent on getting rid. By the
+time I had signed the last discharge and affixed the consular seal
+he had finished the article and put it aside with a contemptuous
+"Humph!" expressive of his opinion of the valor of the crew and
+officers. I could see that he was anxious for me to give him my
+attention while he related one of those long-drawn-out stories of
+perhaps a like personal experience. I knew the symptoms and sometimes
+took occasion to escape, if business or inclination made me forego
+the pleasure. To-day I was in a mood to humor him.
+
+There is always something deliciously refreshing in a sailor's yarn. I
+have listened to hundreds in the course of my consular career, and
+have yet to find one that is dull or prosy. They all bear the imprint
+of truth, perhaps a trifle overdrawn, but nevertheless sparkling with
+the salt of the sea and redolent of the romance of strange people
+and distant lands. In listening, one becomes almost dizzy at the
+rapidity with which the scene and personnel change. The icebergs and
+the aurora borealis of the Arctic give place to the torrid waters
+and the Southern Cross of the South Pacific. A volcanic island, an
+Arabian desert, a tropical jungle, and the breadth and width of the
+ocean serve as the theatre, while a Fiji Islander, an Eskimo, and
+a turbaned Arab are actors in a half-hour's tale. In interest they
+rival Verne, Kingston, or Marryat. All they lack is skilled hands to
+dress them in proper language.
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE CAPTAIN'S YARN
+
+
+The captain helped himself to one of my manilas and began:--
+
+I've nothing to say about the fate of the poor fellows on the Namoa,
+seeing the captain was killed at the first fire, but it looks to me
+like a case of carelessness which was almost criminal. The idea of
+allowing three hundred Chinese to come aboard as passengers without
+searching them for arms. Why! it is an open bid to pirates. Goes to
+show pretty plain that these seas are not cleared of pirates. Sailing
+ships nowadays think they can go anywhere without a pound of powder
+or an old cutlass aboard, just because there is an English or Dutch
+man-of-war within a hundred miles. I don't know what we'd have done
+when I first traded among these islands without a good brass swivel
+and a stock of percussion-cap muskets.
+
+Let me see; it was in '58, I was cabin boy on the ship Bangor. Captain
+Howe, hale old fellow from Maine, had his two little boys aboard. They
+are merchants now in Boston. I've been sailing for them on the Elmira
+ever since. We were trading along the coast of Borneo. Those were
+great days for trading in spite of the pirates. That was long before
+iron steamers sent our good oaken ships to rot in the dockyards of
+Maine. Why, in those days you could see a half-dozen of our snug
+little crafts in any port of the world, and I've seen more American
+flags in this very harbor of Singapore than of any other nation. We
+had come into Singapore with a shipload of ice (no scientific ice
+factories then), and had gone along the coast of Java and Borneo to
+load with coffee, rubber, and spices, for a return voyage. We were
+just off Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, and about loaded, when the
+captain heard that gold had been discovered somewhere up near the head
+of the Rejang. The captain was an adventurous old salt, and decided
+to test the truth of the story; so, taking the long-boat and ten men,
+he pulled up the Sarawak River to Kuching and got permission of Rajah
+Brooke to go up the Rejang on a hunting expedition. The Rajah was
+courteous, but tried to dissuade us from the undertaking by relating
+that several bands of Dyaks had been out on head-hunting expeditions
+of late, and that the mouth of the Rejang was infested by Illanum
+pirates. The captain only laughed, and jokingly told Sir James that
+if the game proved scarce he might come back and claim the prize
+money on a boat-load of pirate heads.
+
+We started at once,--for the captain let me go; we rowed some sixty
+miles along the coast to the mouth of the Rejang; then for four days
+we pulled up its snakelike course. It was my first bit of adventure,
+and everything was strange and new. The river's course was like a
+great tunnel into the dense black jungle. On each side and above we
+were completely walled in by an impenetrable growth of great tropical
+trees and the iron-like vines of the rubber. The sun for a few hours
+each day came in broken shafts down through the foliage, and exposed
+the black back of a crocodile, or the green sides of an iguana. Troops
+of monkeys swung and chattered in the branches above, and at intervals
+a grove of cocoanut broke the monotony of the scenery. Among them we
+would land and rest for the day or night, eat of their juicy fruit,
+and go on short excursions for game. A roasted monkey, some baked yams,
+and a delicious rice curry made up a royal bill of fare, and as the
+odor of our tobacco mixed with the breathing perfume of the jungle,
+I would fall asleep listening to sea-yarns that sometimes ran back
+to the War of 1812.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+At the end of the fifth day we arrived at the head of the Rejang. Here
+the river broke up into a dozen small streams and a swamp. A stockade
+had been erected, and the Rajah had stationed a small company of
+native soldiers under an English officer to keep the head-hunting
+Dyaks in check. I don't remember what our captain found out in regard
+to the gold fields, at least it was not encouraging; for he gave up
+the search and joined the English lieutenant in a grand deer-hunt
+that lasted for five days, and then started back accompanied by two
+native soldiers bearing despatches to the Rajah.
+
+It was easy running down the river with the current. One man in each
+end of the boat kept it off roots, sunken logs, and crocodiles, and the
+rest of us spent the time as best our cramped space allowed. Twice
+we detected the black, ugly face of a Dyak peering from out the
+jungle. The men were for hunting them down for the price on their
+heads, but the captain said he never killed a human being except in
+self-defence, and that if the Rajah wanted to get rid of the savages he
+had better give the contract to a Mississippi slave-trader. Secretly,
+I was longing for some kind of excitement, and was hoping that the
+men's clamorous talk would have some effect. I never doubted our
+ability to raid a Dyak village and kill the head-hunters and carry off
+the beautiful maidens. I could not see why a parcel of blacks should
+be such a terror to the good Rajah, when Big Tom said he could easily
+handle a dozen, and flattered me by saying that such a brawny lad as
+I ought to take care of two at least.
+
+In the course of three days we reached the mouth of the river, and
+prepared the sail for the trip across the bay to the Bangor. Just as
+everything was in readiness, one of those peculiar and rapid changes
+in the weather, that are so common here in the tropics near the
+equator, took place. A great blue-black cloud, looking like an immense
+cartridge, came up from the west. Through it played vivid flashes of
+lightning, and around it was a red haze. "A nasty animal," I heard the
+bo's'n tell the captain, and yet I was foolishly delighted when they
+decided to risk a blow and put out to sea. The sky on all sides grew
+darker from hour to hour. A smell of sulphur came to our nostrils. It
+was oppressively hot; not a breath of wind was stirring. The sail
+flapped uselessly against the mast, and the men labored at the oars,
+while streams of sweat ran from their bodies.
+
+The captain had just taken down the mast, when, without a moment's
+warning, the gale struck us and the boat half filled with water. We
+managed to head it with the wind, and were soon driving with the
+rapidity of a cannon-ball over the boiling and surging waters. It was
+a fearful gale; we blew for hours before it, ofttimes in danger of a
+volcanic reef, again almost sunk by a giant wave. I baled until I was
+completely exhausted. But the long-boat was a stanch little craft, and
+there were plenty of men to manage it, so as long as we could keep her
+before the wind, the captain felt no great anxiety as to our safety.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+At about six bells in the afternoon, the wind fell away, and the
+rain came down in torrents, leaving us to pitch about on the rapidly
+decreasing waves, wet to the skin and unequal to another effort. We
+were within a mile of a rocky island that rose like a half-ruined
+castle from the ocean. The Dyak soldiers called it Satang Island,
+and I have sailed past it many a time since. Without waiting for
+the word, we rowed to it and around it, before we found a suitable
+beach on which to land. One end of the island rose precipitous and
+sheer above the beach a hundred feet, and ended in a barren plateau
+of some two dozen acres. The remainder comprised some hundred acres
+of sand and rocks, on which were half a dozen cocoanut trees and a
+few yams. Along the beach we found a large number of turtles' eggs.
+
+The captain, remembering the Rajah's caution in regard to pirates,
+decided not to make a light, but we were wet and hungry and overcame
+his scruples, and soon had a huge fire and a savory repast of coffee,
+turtles' eggs, and yams. At midnight it was extinguished, and a
+watch stationed on top of the plateau. Toward morning I clambered
+grumblingly up the narrow, almost perpendicular sides of the rift
+that cut into the rocky watch-tower. I did not believe in pirates
+and was willing to take my chances in sleep. I paced back and forth,
+inhaling deep breaths of the rich tropical air; below me the waves
+beat in ripples against the rugged beach, casting off from time to
+time little flashes of phosphorescent light, and mirroring in their
+depths the hardly distinguishable outline of the Southern Cross. The
+salt smell of the sea was tinged with the spice-laden air of the
+near coast. Drowsiness came over me. I picked up a musket and paced
+around the little plateau. The moon had but just reached its zenith,
+making all objects easily discernible. The smooth storm-swept space
+before me reflected back its rays like a well-scrubbed quarter-deck;
+below were the dark outlines of my sleeping mates. I could hear the
+light wind rustling through the branches of the casuarina trees that
+fringed the shore. I paused and looked over the sea. Like a charge
+of electricity a curious sensation of fear shot through me. Then an
+intimation that some object had flashed between me and the moon. I
+rubbed my eyes and gazed in the air above, expecting to see a night
+bird or a bat. Then the same peculiar sensation came over me again,
+and I looked down in the water below just in time to see the long,
+keen, knife-like outline of a pirate prau glide as noiselessly as a
+shadow from a passing cloud into the gloom of the island.  Its great,
+wide-spreading, dark red sails were set full to the wind, and hanging
+over its sides by ropes were a dozen naked Illanums, guiding the
+sensitive craft almost like a thing of life. Within the prau were
+two dozen fighting men, armed with their alligator hide buckler,
+long, steel-tipped spear, and ugly, snake-like kris. A third prau
+followed in the wake of the other two, and all three were lost in
+the blackness of the overhanging cliffs.
+
+
+
+With as little noise as possible, I ran across the plain and warned my
+companion, then picked my way silently down the defile to the camp. The
+captain responded to my touch and was up in an instant. The men were
+awakened and the news whispered from one to another. Gathering up
+what food and utensils we possessed, we hurried to get on top of
+the plateau before our exact whereabouts became known. The captain
+hoped that when they discovered we were well fortified and there was
+no wreck to pillage, they would withdraw without giving battle. They
+had landed on the opposite side of the island from our boat and might
+leave it undisturbed. We felt reasonably safe in our fortress from
+attacks. There were but two breaks in its precipitous sides, each a
+narrow defile filled with loose boulders that could easily be detached
+and sent thundering down on an assailant's head. On the other hand,
+our shortness of food and water made us singularly weak in case of
+siege. But we hoped for the best. Two men were posted at each defile,
+and as nothing was heard for an hour, most of us fell asleep.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+It was just dawn, when we were awakened by the report of two muskets
+and the terrific crashing of a great boulder, followed by groans
+and yells. With one accord we rushed to the head of the cañon.
+The Illanums, naked, with the exception of party-colored sarongs
+around their waists, with their bucklers on their left arms and
+their gleaming knives strapped to their right wrists, were mounting
+on each other's shoulders, forcing a way up the precipitous defile,
+unmindful of the madly descending rocks that had crushed and maimed
+more than one of their number. They were fine, powerful fellows, with
+a reddish brown skin that shone like polished ebony. Their hair was
+shorn close to their heads; they had high cheek bones, flat noses,
+syrah-stained lips, and bloodshot eyes. In their movements they were
+as lithe and supple as a tiger, and commanded our admiration while
+they made us shudder. We knew that they neither give nor take quarter,
+and for years had terrorized the entire Bornean coast.
+
+We were ready to fire, but a gesture from the captain restrained us;
+our ammunition was low, and he wished to save it until we actually
+needed it. By our united efforts we pried off two of the volcanic
+rocks, which, with a great leap, disappeared into the darkness below,
+oftentimes appearing for an instant before rushing to the sea. Every
+time an Illanum fell we gave a hearty American cheer, which was
+answered by savage yells. Still they fought on and up, making little
+headway. We were gradually relaxing our efforts, thinking that they
+were sick of the affair, when the report of a musket from the opposite
+side of the island called our attention to the bo's'n, who had been
+detailed to guard the other defile.
+
+The bo's'n and one native soldier were fighting hand to hand with a
+dozen pirates who were forcing their way up the edge of the cliff. Half
+of the men dashed to their relief just in time to see the soldier go
+over the precipice locked in the arms of a giant Illanum. One volley
+from our muskets settled the hopes of the invaders.
+
+Our little party was divided, and we were outnumbered ten to one. One
+of the sailors in dislodging a boulder lost his footing and went
+crashing down with it amid the derisive yells of the pirates. Suddenly
+the conflict ceased and the pirates withdrew. In a short time we
+could see them building a number of small fires along the beach, and
+the aroma of rice curry came up to us with the breeze. The captain, I
+could see, was anxious, although my boyish feelings did not go beyond
+a sense of intoxicating excitement. I heard him say that nothing but
+a storm or a ship could save us in case we were besieged; that it
+was better to have the fight out at once and die with our arms in
+our hands than to starve to death.
+
+Giving each a small portion of ship biscuit and a taste of water,
+he enjoined on each a careful watchfulness and a provident use of
+our small stock of provisions.
+
+I took mine in my hand and walked out on the edge of the cliff somewhat
+sobered. Directly below me were the pirates, and at my feet I noticed
+a fragment of rock that I thought I could loosen. Putting down my food,
+I foolishly picked up a piece of timber which I used as a lever, when,
+without warning, the mass broke away, and with a tremendous bound
+went crashing down into the very midst of the pirates, scattering
+them right and left, and ended by crushing one of the praus that was
+drawn up on the sand.
+
+In an instant the quiet beach was a scene of the wildest confusion. A
+surging, crowding mass of pirates with their krises between their
+teeth dashed up the cañon, intent on avenging their loss. I dropped
+my lever and rushed back to the men, nearly frightened to death at
+the result of my temerity. There was no time for boulders; the men
+reached the brink of the defile just in time to welcome the assailants
+with a broadside. Their lines wavered, but fresh men took the places
+of the fallen, and they pushed on. Another volley from our guns,
+and the dead and wounded encumbered the progress of the living. A
+shower of stones and timbers gave us the light, and they withdrew
+with savage yells to open the siege once more. Only one of our men
+had been wounded,--he by an arrow from a blowpipe.
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+All that night we kept watch. The next morning we were once more
+attacked, but successfully defended ourselves with boulders and our
+cutlasses. Yet one swarthy pirate succeeded in catching the leg of
+the remaining native soldier and bearing him away with them. With
+cessation of hostilities, we searched the top of the island for food
+and water. At one side of the tableland there was a break in its
+surface and a bench of some dozen acres lay perhaps twenty feet below
+our retreat. We cautiously worked our way down to this portion and
+there to our delight found a number of fan-shaped traveller's palms
+and monkey-cups full of sweet water, which with two wild sago palms
+we calculated would keep us alive a few days at all events.
+
+We were much encouraged at this discovery, and that night collected
+a lot of brush from the lower plain and lit a big fire on the
+most exposed part of the rocks. We did not care if it brought a
+thousand more pirates as long as it attracted the attention of a
+passing ship. Two good nine-pounders would soon send our foes in all
+directions. We relieved each other in watching during the night, and
+by sunrise we were all completely worn out. The third day was one of
+weariness and thirst under the burning rays of the tropical sun. That
+day we ate the last of our ship biscuit and were reduced to a few
+drops of water each. Starvation was staring us in the face. There
+was but one alternative, and that was to descend and make a fight
+for our boat on the beach. The bo's'n volunteered with three men to
+descend the defile and reconnoitre. Armed only with their cutlasses
+and a short axe, they worked their way carefully down in the shadow
+of the rocks, while we kept watch above.
+
+All was quiet for a time; then there arose a tumult of cries, oaths,
+and yells. The captain gave the order, and pell-mell down the rift
+we clambered, some dropping their muskets in their hurried descent,
+one of which exploded in its fall. The bo's'n had found the beach
+and our boat guarded by six pirates, who were asleep. Four of these
+they succeeded in throttling. We pushed the boat into the surf,
+expecting every moment to see one of the praus glide around the
+projecting reef that separated the two inlets. We could plainly
+hear their cries and yells as they discovered our escape, and with
+a "heigh-ho-heigh!" our long-boat shot out into the placid ocean,
+sending up a shower of phosphorescent bubbles. We bent our backs to
+the oars as only a question of life or death can make one. With each
+stroke the boat seemed almost to lift itself out of the water. Almost
+at the same time a long dark line, filled with moving objects, dashed
+out from the shadow of the cliffs, hardly a hundred yards away.
+
+It was a glorious race over the dim waters of that tropical sea. I
+as a boy could not realize what capture meant at the hands of our
+cruel pursuers. My heart beat high, and I felt equal to a dozen
+Illanums. My thoughts travelled back to New England in the midst of
+the excitement. I saw myself before the open arch fire in a low-roofed
+old house, that for a century had withstood the fiercest gales on the
+old Maine coast, and from whose doors had gone forth three generations
+of sea-captains. I saw myself on a winter night relating this very
+story of adventure to an old gray-haired, bronzed-faced father, and
+a mother whose parting kiss still lingered on my lips, to my younger
+brother, and sister. I could feel their undisguised admiration as I
+told of my fight with pirates in the Bornean sea. It is wonderful how
+the mind will travel. Yet with my thoughts in Maine, I saw and felt
+that the Illanums were gradually gaining on us. Our men were weary
+and feeble from two days' fasting, while the pirates were strong,
+and thirsting for our blood.
+
+The captain kept glancing first at the enemy and then at a musket
+that lay near him. He longed to use it, but not a man could be spared
+from the oars. Hand over hand they gained on us. Turning his eyes on
+me as I sat in the bow, the captain said, while he bent his sinewy
+back to the oar, "Jack, are you a good shot?"
+
+I stammered, "I can try, sir."
+
+"Very well, get the musket there in the bow.  It is loaded.  Take good
+aim and shoot that big fellow in the stern. If you hit him, I'll make
+you master of a ship some day."
+
+Tremblingly I raised the heavy musket as directed. The boat was
+unsteady, I hardly expected to hit the chief, but aimed low, hoping
+to hit one of the rowers at least. I aimed, closed my eyes, and
+fired. With the report of the musket the tall leader sprang into the
+air and then fell head fore-most amid his rowers. I could just detect
+the gleam of the moonlight on the jewelled handle of his kris as it
+sank into the waters. I had hit my man. The sailors sent up a hearty
+American cheer and a tiger, as they saw the prau come to a standstill.
+
+Our boat sprang away into the darkness. We did not cease rowing until
+dawn,--then we lay back on our oars and stretched our tired backs
+and arms. I had taken my place at the oar during the night.
+
+Away out on the northern horizon we saw a black speck; on the southern
+horizon another. The captain's glass revealed one to be the pirate
+prau with all sails set, for a wind had come up with the dawn. The
+other we welcomed with a cheer, for it was the Bangor. Enfeebled
+and nearly famishing, we headed toward it and rowed for life. How we
+regretted having left our sails on the island. The prau had sighted
+us and was bearing down in full pursuit; we soon could distinguish
+its wide-spreading, rakish sails almost touching the water as it
+sped on. Then we made out the naked forms of the Illanums hanging
+to the ropes, far out over the water, and then we could hear their
+blood-curdling yell. It was too late; their yell was one of baffled
+rage. It was answered by the deep bass tones of the swivel on board the
+Bangor sending a ball skimming along over the waters, which, although
+it went wide of its mark, caused the natives on the ropes to throw
+themselves bodily across the prau, taking the great sail with them.
+
+In another instant the red sail, the long, keen, black shell, the
+naked forms of the fierce Illanums, were mixed in one undefinable
+blot on the distant horizon.
+
+And that was the skipper's yarn.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Malayan Coast, by Rounsevelle Wildman
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Malayan Coast, by Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tales of the Malayan Coast
+       From Penang to the Philippines
+
+Author: Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+Release Date: January 12, 2009 [EBook #27784]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE MALAYAN COAST ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="front"><div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><p class="aligncenter">Tales of the Malayan Coast
+
+</p>
+<p class="aligncenter">Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/wildman.jpg" alt="Rounsevelle Wildman, U. S. Consul-General at Hong Kong." width="276" height="420"><p class="figureHead">Rounsevelle Wildman, U. S. Consul-General at Hong Kong.</p>
+</div><p>
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/wildman-signature.gif" alt="Signature: Rounsevelle Wildman." width="640" height="130"></div><p>
+
+
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="titlePage">
+<h1 class="docTitle">Tales of the Malayan Coast</h1>
+<h2 class="docTitle">From Penang to the Philippines</h2>
+<h2 class="byline">By
+<br>
+<span class="docAuthor">Rounsevelle Wildman</span>
+<br>
+Consul General of the United States at <span class="corr" id="xd0e127" title="Source: Hong-Kong">Hong Kong</span>
+<br>
+Illustrated by Henry Sandham
+
+
+</h2>
+<h2 class="docImprint">Boston
+<br>
+Lothrop Publishing Company
+</h2>
+</div><div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><p class="aligncenter"><span class="smallcaps">Copyright</span>, 1899,<br>
+By
+<br>
+<span class="smallcaps">Lothrop Publishing Company.</span>
+
+</p>
+<p class="aligncenter"><i>Norwood Press</i><br>
+<i>J. S. Cushing &amp; Co.&#8212;Berwick &amp; Smith</i><br>
+<i>Norwood Mass. U.S.A.</i>
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/dewey.jpg" alt="George Dewey, Admiral U. S. Navy" width="303" height="420"><p class="figureHead">George Dewey, Admiral U. S. Navy</p>
+<p class="alignright">Copyright, 1889, by Frances Benjamin Johnston.</p>
+</div><p>
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/dewey-signature.gif" alt="Signature: George Dewey." width="600" height="147"></div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><p class="aligncenter">To</p>
+<p class="aligncenter">Our Hero</p>
+<p class="aligncenter">And my friend</p>
+<p class="aligncenter">Admiral George Dewey, U.S.N.</p>
+<p class="aligncenter">I Dedicate this Book
+
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/dewey-dedication.gif" alt="Handwritten dedication by General Dewey." width="720" height="566"></div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<div class="blockquote">
+<p><i>Flagship Olympia</i>,<br>
+<i>Manila</i>, 21 Sept., 1898.
+
+</p>
+<p>My Dear Wildman:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>Yours of 12th instant is at hand. I am much flattered by your request to dedicate your book to me, and would be pleased to
+have you do so.
+
+</p>
+<p>With kindest regards, I am,
+
+</p>
+<p>Very truly yours,
+
+</p>
+<p>George Dewey. </p>
+</div><p>
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb5" href="#pb5">5</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">Preface</h2>
+<p>These stories are the result of nine years&#8217; residence and experience on the Malayan coast&#8212;that land of romance and adventure
+which the ancients knew as the Golden Chersonesus, and which, in modern times, has been brought again into the atmosphere
+of valor and performance by Rajah Brooke of Sarawak, the hero of English expansion, and Admiral George Dewey of the Asiatic
+squadron, the hero of American achievement. The author, in his official duties as Special Commissioner of the United States
+for the Straits Settlement and Siam, and, later, as Consul General of the United States at Hong Kong, has mingled with and
+studied the diverse people of the Malayan coast, from the Sultan of Johore and Aguinaldo <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb6" href="#pb6">6</a>]</span>the Filipino to the lowest Eurasian and &#8220;China boy&#8221; of that wonderful Oriental land. These stories are based on his experiences
+afloat and ashore, and are offered to the American public at this time when all glimpses of the land that Columbus sailed
+to find are of especial interest to the modern possessors of the land he really did discover.
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb7" href="#pb7">7</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="toc" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">Contents</h2>
+<ol class="lsoff">
+<li>&nbsp; <span class="tocPagenum">Page</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch1">Baboo&#8217;s Good Tiger</a> <span class="tocPagenum">9</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch2">Baboo&#8217;s Pirates</a> <span class="tocPagenum">28</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch3">How we Played Robinson Crusoe</a> <span class="tocPagenum">47</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch4">The Sarong</a> <span class="tocPagenum">66</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch5">The Kris</a> <span class="tocPagenum">74</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch6">The White Rajah of Borneo</a> <span class="tocPagenum">81</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch7">Amok!</a> <span class="tocPagenum">101</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch8">Lepas&#8217;s Revenge</a> <span class="tocPagenum">130</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch9">King Solomon&#8217;s Mines</a> <span class="tocPagenum">147</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch10">Busuk</a> <span class="tocPagenum">181</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch11">A Crocodile Hunt</a> <span class="tocPagenum">200</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch12">A New Year&#8217;s Day in Malaya</a> <span class="tocPagenum">219</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch13">In the Burst of the Southwest Monsoon</a> <span class="tocPagenum">230</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch14">A Pig Hunt on Mount Ophir</a> <span class="tocPagenum">254</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch15">In the Court of Johore</a> <span class="tocPagenum">270</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch16">In the Golden Chersonese</a> <span class="tocPagenum">293</span>
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="#ch17">A Fight with Illanum Pirates</a> <span class="tocPagenum">321</span></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+</div><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb8" href="#pb8">8</a>]</span><div class="body">
+<div id="ch1" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="super">Tales of the Malayan Coast<br>
+From Penang to the Philippines
+</h2><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb9" href="#pb9">9</a>]</span><h2 class="normal">Baboo&#8217;s Good Tiger</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">A Tale of the Malacca Jungle</h2>
+<p>Aboo Din&#8217;s first-born, Baboo, was only four years old when he had his famous adventure with the tiger he had found sleeping
+in the hot lallang grass within the distance of a child&#8217;s voice from Aboo Din&#8217;s bungalow.
+
+</p>
+<p>For a long time before that hardly a day had passed but Aboo-Din, who was our <i>syce</i>, or groom, and wore the American colors proudly on his right arm, came in from the servants&#8217; quarters with an anxious look
+on his kindly brown face and asked respectfully for the <i>tuan</i> (lord) or <i>mem</i> (lady).
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Aboo Din?&#8221; the mistress would inquire, as visions of Baboo drowned in the great Shanghai jar, or of Baboo lying
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb10" href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>crushed by a boa among the yellow bamboos beyond the hedge, passed swiftly through her mind.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mem see Baboo?&#8221; came the inevitable question.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was unnecessary to say more. At once Ah Minga, the &#8220;boy&#8221;; Zim, the cook; the <i>kebuns</i> (gardeners); the <i>tukanayer</i> (water-boy), and even the sleek Hindu <i>dirzee</i>, who sat sewing, dozing, and chewing betel-nut, on the shady side of the veranda, turned out with one accord and commenced
+a systematic search for the missing Baboo.
+
+</p>
+<p>Sometimes he was no farther off than the protecting screen of the &#8220;compound&#8221; hedge, or the cool, green shadows beneath the
+bungalow. But oftener the government Sikhs had to be appealed to, and Kampong Glam in Singapore searched from the great market
+to the courtyards of Sultan Ali. It was useless to whip him, for whippings seemed only to make Baboo grow. He would lisp serenely
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb11" href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>as Aboo Din took down the rattan withe from above the door, &#8220;<i>Baboo baniak jahat!</i>&#8221; (Baboo very bad!) and there was something so charmingly impersonal in all his mischief, that we came between his own brown
+body and the rod, time and again. There was nothing distinctive in Baboo&#8217;s features or form. To the casual observer he might
+have been any one of a half-dozen of his playmates. Like them, he went about perfectly naked, his soft, brown skin shining
+like polished rosewood in the fierce Malayan sun.
+
+</p>
+<p>His hair was black, straight, and short, and his eyes as black as coals. Like his companions, he stood as straight as an arrow,
+and could carry a pail of water on his head without spilling a drop.
+
+</p>
+<p>He, too, ate rice three times a day. It puffed him up like a little old man, which added to his grotesqueness and gave him
+a certain air of dignity that went well with his features when they were in repose. Around <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb12" href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>his waist he wore a silver chain with a silver heart suspended from it. Its purpose was to keep off the evil spirits.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was always an atmosphere of sandalwood and Arab essence about Baboo that reminded me of the holds of the old sailing-ships
+that used to come into Boston harbor from the Indies. I think his mother must have rubbed the perfumes into his hair as the
+one way of declaring to the world her affection for him. She could not give him clothes, or ornaments, or toys: such was not
+the fashion of Baboo&#8217;s race. Neither was he old enough to wear the silk <i>sarong</i> that his Aunt Fatima had woven for him on her loom.
+
+</p>
+<p>Baboo had been well trained, and however lordly he might be in the quarters, he was marked in his respect to the mistress.
+He would touch his forehead to the red earth when I drove away of a morning to the office; though the next moment I might
+catch <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb13" href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>him blowing a tiny ball of clay from his <i>sumpitan</i> into the ear of his father, the <i>syce</i>, as he stood majestically on the step behind me.
+
+</p>
+<p>Baboo went to school for two hours every day to a fat old Arab <i>penager</i>, or teacher, whose schoolroom was an open stall, and whose only furniture a bench, on which he sat cross-legged, and flourished
+a whip in one hand and a chapter of the Koran in the other.
+
+</p>
+<p>There were a dozen little fellows in the school; all naked. They stood up in line, and in a soft musical treble chanted in
+chorus the glorious promises of the Koran, even while their eyes wandered from the dusky corner where a cheko lizard was struggling
+with an atlas moth, to the frantic gesticulations of a naked Hindu who was calling his meek-eyed bullocks hard names because
+they insisted on lying down in the middle of the road for their noonday siesta.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb14" href="#pb14">14</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Baboo&#8217;s father, Aboo Din, was a Hadji, for he had been to Mecca. When nothing else could make Baboo forget the effects of
+the green durian he had eaten, Aboo Din would take the child on his knees and sing to him of his trip to Mecca, in a quaint,
+monotonous voice, full of sorrowful quavers. Baboo believed he himself could have left Singapore any day and found Mecca in
+the dark.
+
+</p>
+<p>We had been living some weeks in a government bungalow, fourteen miles from Singapore, across the island that looks out on
+the Straits of Malacca. The fishing and hunting were excellent. I had shot wild pig, deer, tapirs, and for some days had been
+getting ready to track down a tiger that had been prowling in the jungle about the bungalow.
+
+</p>
+<p>But of a morning, as we lay lazily chatting in our long chairs behind the bamboo chicks, the cries of &#8220;Harimau! Harimau!&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb15" href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>and &#8220;Baboo&#8221; came up to us from the servants&#8217; quarters.
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din sprang over the railing of the veranda, and without stopping even to touch the back of his hand to his forehead,
+cried,&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan Consul, tiger have eat chow dog and got Baboo!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Then he rushed into the dining room, snatched up my Winchester and cartridge-belt, and handed them to me with a &#8220;<i>Lekas</i> (quick)! Come!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He sprang back off the veranda and ran to his quarters where the men were arming themselves with ugly <i>krises</i> and heavy <i>parangs</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had not much hope of finding the tiger, much less of rescuing Baboo, dead or alive. The jungle loomed up like an impassable
+wall on all three sides of the compound, so dense, compact, and interwoven, that a bird could not fly through it. Still I
+knew that my men, if they had the courage, could follow where the tiger led, and could cut a path for me.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb16" href="#pb16">16</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Aboo Din unloosed a half-dozen pariah dogs that we kept for wild pig, and led them to the spot where the tiger had last lain.
+In an instant the entire pack sent up a doleful howl and slunk back to their kennels.
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din lashed them mercilessly and drove them into the jungle, where he followed on his hands and knees. I only waited to
+don my green <i>kaki</i> suit and canvas shooting hat and despatch a man to the neighboring <i>kampong</i>, or village, to ask the <i>punghulo</i> (chief) to send me his <i>shikaris</i>, or hunters. Then I plunged into the jungle path that my <i>kebuns</i> had cut with their keen <i>parangs</i>, or jungle-knives. Ten feet within the confines of the forest the metallic glare of the sun and the pitiless reflections
+of the China Sea were lost in a dim, green twilight. Far ahead I could hear the half-hearted snarls of the cowardly, deserting
+curs, and Aboo Din&#8217;s angry voice rapidly exhausting the curses of the Koran on their heads.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb17" href="#pb17">17</a>]</span></p>
+<p>My men, who were naked save for a cotton <i>sarong</i> wound around their waists, slashed here a rubber-vine, there a thorny rattan, and again a mass of creepers that were as tenacious
+as iron ropes, all the time pressing forward at a rapid walk. Ofttimes the trail led from the solid ground through a swamp
+where grew great sago palms, and out of which a black, sluggish stream flowed toward the straits. Gray iguanas and pendants
+of dove orchids hung from the limbs above, and green and gold lizards scuttled up the trees at our approach.
+
+</p>
+<p>At the first plot of wet ground Aboo Din sent up a shout, and awaited my coming. I found him on his hands and knees, gazing
+stupidly at the prints in the moist earth.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan,&#8221; he shouted, &#8220;see Baboo&#8217;s feet, one&#8212;two&#8212;three&#8212;more! Praise be to Allah!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I dropped down among the lily-pads and pitcher-plants beside him. There, sure <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb18" href="#pb18">18</a>]</span>enough, close by the catlike footmarks of the tiger, was the perfect impression of one of Baboo&#8217;s bare feet. Farther on was
+the imprint of another, and then a third. Wonderful! The intervals between the several footmarks were far enough apart for
+the stride of a man!
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Apa?</i>&#8221; (What does it mean?) I said.
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din tore his hair and called upon Allah and the assembled Malays to witness that he was the father of this Baboo, but
+that, in the sight of Mohammed, he was innocent of this witchcraft. He had striven from Hari Rahmadan to Hari Rahmanan to
+bring this four-year-old up in the light of the Koran, but here he was striding through the jungle, three feet and more at
+a step, holding to a tiger&#8217;s tail!
+
+</p>
+<p>I shouted with laughter as the truth dawned upon me. It must be so,&#8212;Baboo was alive. His footprints were before me. He was
+being dragged through the jungle by a full-grown <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb19" href="#pb19">19</a>]</span>Malayan tiger! How else explain his impossible strides, overlapping the beast&#8217;s marks!
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din turned his face toward Mecca, and his lips moved in prayer.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;May Allah be kind to this tiger!&#8221; he mumbled. &#8220;He is in the hands of a witch. We shall find him as harmless as an old cat.
+Baboo will break out his teeth with a club of billion wood and bite off his claws with his own teeth. Allah is merciful!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>We pushed on for half an hour over a dry, foliage-cushioned strip of ground that left no trace of the pursued. At the second
+wet spot we dashed forward eagerly and scanned the trail for signs of Baboo, but only the pads of the tiger marred the surface
+of the slime.
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din squatted at the root of a huge mangrove and broke forth into loud lamentations, while the last remaining cur took
+advantage of his preoccupation to sneak back on the homeward trail.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb20" href="#pb20">20</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Aboo,&#8221; I commanded sarcastically, &#8220;<i>pergie!</i> (move on!) Baboo is a man and a witch. He is tired of walking, and is riding on the back of the tiger!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo gazed into my face incredulously for a moment; then, picking up his <i>parang</i> and tightening his <i>sarong</i>, strode on ahead without a word.
+
+</p>
+<p>At noon we came upon a sandy stretch of soil that contained a few diseased cocoanut palms, fringed by a sluggish lagoon, and
+a great banian tree whose trunk was hardly more than a mass of interlaced roots. A troop of long-armed <i>wah-wah</i> monkeys were scolding and whistling within its dense foliage with surprising intensity. Occasionally one would drop from
+an outreaching limb to one of the pendulous roots, and then, with a shrill whistle of fright, spring back to the protection
+of his mates.
+
+</p>
+<p>A Malay silenced them by throwing a half-ripe cocoanut into the midst of the tree, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb21" href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>we moved on to the shade of the sturdiest palm. There we sat down to rest and eat some biscuits softened in the milk of a
+cocoanut.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is a boa in the roots of the banian, Aboo,&#8221; I said, looking longingly toward its deep shadow.
+
+</p>
+<p>He nodded his head, and drew from the pouch in the knot in his <i>sarong</i> a few broken fragments of areca nut. These he wrapped in a lemon leaf well smeared with lime, and tucked the entire mass
+into the corner of his mouth.
+
+</p>
+<p>In a moment a brilliant red juice dyed his lips, and he closed his eyes in happy contentment, oblivious, for the time, of
+the sand and fallen trunks that seemed to dance in the parching rays of the sun, oblivious, even, of the loss of his first-born.
+
+</p>
+<p>I was revolving in my mind whether there was any use in continuing the chase, which I would have given up long before, had
+I not <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb22" href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>known that a tiger who has eaten to repletion is both timid and lazy. This one had certainly breakfasted on a dog or on some
+animal before encountering Baboo.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had hoped that possibly the barking of the curs might have caused him to drop the child, and make off where pursuit would
+be impossible; but so far we had, after those footprints, found neither traces of Baboo alive, nor the blood which should
+have been seen had the tiger killed the child.
+
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly a long, pear-shaped mangrove-pod struck me full in the breast. I sprang up in surprise, for I was under a cocoanut
+tree, and there was no mangrove nearer than the lagoon.
+
+</p>
+<p>A Malay looked up sleepily, and pointed toward the wide-spreading banian.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Monkey, Tuan!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>My eyes followed the direction indicated, and could just distinguish a grinning face among the interlacing roots at the base
+of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb23" href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>the tree. So I picked up the green, dartlike end of the pod, and took careful aim at the brown face and milk-white teeth.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then it struck me as peculiar that a monkey, after all the evidence of fright we had so lately witnessed, should seek a hiding-place
+that must be within easy reach of its greatest enemy, the boa-constrictor.
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din had aroused himself, and was looking intently in the same direction. Before I could take a step toward the tree he
+had leaped to his feet, and was bounding across the little space, shouting, &#8220;Baboo! Baboo!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The small brown face instantly disappeared, and we were left staring blankly at a dark opening into the heart of the woody
+maze. Then we heard the small, well-known voice of Baboo:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Tabek</i> (greeting), Tuan! Greeting, Aboo Din! Tuan Consul no whip, Baboo come out.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb24" href="#pb24">24</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Aboo Din ran his long, naked arm into the opening in pursuit of his first-born&#8212;the audacious boy who would make terms with
+his white master!
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it not enough before Allah that this son should cause me, a Hadji, to curse daily, but now he must bewitch tigers and
+dictate terms to the Tuan and to me, his father? He shall feel the strength of my wrist; I will&#8212;O Allah!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo snatched forth his arm with a howl of pain. One of his fingers was bleeding profusely, and the marks of tiny teeth showed
+plainly where Baboo had closed them on the offending hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Biak</i>, Baboo, <i>mari</i>!&#8221; (Good, come forth!) I said.
+
+</p>
+<p>First the round, soft face of the small miscreant appeared; then the head, and then the naked little body. Aboo Din grasped
+him in his arms, regardless of his former threats, or of the blood that was flowing from his wounds. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb25" href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>Then, amid caresses and promises to Allah to kill fire-fighting cocks, the father hugged and kissed Baboo until he cried out
+with pain.
+
+</p>
+<p>After each Malay had taken the little fellow in his arms, I turned to Baboo and said, while I tried to be severe,&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Baboo, where is tiger?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Sudah mati</i> (dead), Tuan,&#8221; he answered with dignity. &#8220;Tiger over there, Tuan. <i>Sladang</i> kill. I hid here and wait for Aboo Din!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He touched his forehead with the back of his brown palm. There was nothing, either in the little fellow&#8217;s bearing or words,
+that betrayed fear or bravado. It was only one mishap more or less to him.
+
+</p>
+<p>We followed Baboo&#8217;s lead to the edge of the jungle, and there, stretched out in the hot sand, lay the great, tawny beast,
+stamped and pawed until he was almost unrecognizable.
+
+</p>
+<p>All about him were the hoof-marks of the great <i>sladang</i>, the fiercest and wildest animal of the peninsula&#8212;the Malayan bull that will <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb26" href="#pb26">26</a>]</span>charge a tiger, a black lion, a boa, and even a crocodile, on sight. Hunters will go miles to avoid one of them, and a herd
+of elephants will go trumpeting away in fear at their approach.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Kuching besar</i> (big cat) eat Baboo&#8217;s chow dog, then sleep in lallang grass,&#8221;&#8212;this was the child&#8217;s story. &#8220;Baboo find, and say, &#8216;<i>Bagus kuching</i> (pretty kitty), see Baboo&#8217;s doll?&#8217; Kuching no like Baboo&#8217;s doll mem consul give. Kuching run away. Baboo catch tail, run
+too. Kuching go long ways. Baboo &#8217;fraid Aboo Din whip and tell kuching must go back. Kuching pick Baboo up in mouth when Baboo
+let go.
+
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p000.jpg" alt="Baboo&#8217;s good tiger" width="472" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Baboo&#8217;s good tiger</p>
+<p>&#8220;Baboo catch tail, run too&#8221; (see page <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>)
+</p>
+</div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kuching hurt Baboo. Baboo stick fingers in kuching&#8217;s eye. Kuching no more hurt Baboo. Kuching stop under banian tree and
+sleep. Big <i>sladang</i> come, fight kuching. Baboo sorry for good kuching. Baboo hid from <i>sladang</i>,&#8212;Aboo Din no whip Baboo?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>His voice dropped to a pathetic little quaver, and he put up his hands with an <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb27" href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>appealing gesture; but his brown legs were drawn back ready to flee should Aboo Din make one hostile move.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Baboo,&#8221; I said, &#8220;you are a hero!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Baboo opened his little black eyes, but did not dispute me.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You shall go to Mecca when you grow up, and become a Hadji, and when you come back the high <i>kadi</i> shall take you in the mosque and make a <i>kateeb</i> of you,&#8221; said I. &#8220;Now put your forehead to the ground and thank the good Allah that the kuching had eaten dog before he got
+you.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Baboo did as he was told, but I think that in his heart he was more grateful that for once he had evaded a whipping than for
+his remarkable escape. A little later the <i>punghulo</i> came up with a half-dozen <i>shikaris</i>, or hunters, and a pack of hunting dogs. The men skinned the mutilated carcass of the only &#8220;good tiger&#8221; I met during my three
+years&#8217; hunting in the jungles of this strange old peninsula.
+
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb28" href="#pb28">28</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch2" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">Baboo&#8217;s Pirates</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">An Adventure in the Pahang River</h2>
+<p>There was a scuffle in the outer office, and a thin, piping voice was calling down all the curses of the Koran on the heads
+of my great top-heavy Hindu guards.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sons of dogs,&#8221; I heard in the most withering contempt, &#8220;I will see the Tuan Consul. Know he is my father.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>A tall Sikh, with his great red turban awry and his brown <i>kaki</i> uniform torn and soiled, pushed through the bamboo chicks and into my presence.
+
+</p>
+<p>He was dragging a small bit of naked humanity by the folds of its faded cotton <i>sarong</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>The powerful soldier was hot and flushed, and a little stream of blood trickling from <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb29" href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>his finger tips showed where they had come in contact with his captive&#8217;s teeth. It was as though an elephant had been worried
+by a pariah cur.
+
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p030.jpg" alt="Baboo and the Sikh" width="463" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Baboo and the Sikh</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was as though an elephant had been worried by a pariah cur&#8221;</p>
+</div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your Excellency,&#8221; he said, salaaming and gasping for breath.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is Baboo, the Harimau-Anak!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Baboo wrenched from the guard&#8217;s grasp and glided up to my desk. The back of his open palm went to his forehead, and his big
+brown eyes looked up appealingly into mine.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Tiger-Child?&#8221; I asked, bestowing on him the title the Malays of Kampong Glam had given him as a perpetual reminder
+of his famous adventure.
+
+</p>
+<p>Dimples came into either tear-stained cheek. He smoothed out the rents in his small <i>sarong</i>, and without deigning to notice his late captor, said in a soft sing-song voice:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan Consul, Baboo want to go with the Heaven-Born to Pahang. Baboo six years <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb30" href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>old,&#8212;can fight pirates like Aboo Din, the father. May Mohammed make Tuan as odorous as musk!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are a boaster before Allah, Baboo,&#8221; I said, smiling.
+
+</p>
+<p>Baboo dropped his head in perfectly simulated contrition.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have thought much, Tuan.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>News had come to me that an American merchant ship had been wrecked near the mouth of the Pahang River, and that the Malays,
+who were at the time in revolt against the English Resident, had taken possession of its cargo of petroleum and made prisoners
+of the crew.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had asked the colonial governor for a guard of five Sikhs and a launch, that I might steam up the coast and investigate
+the alleged outrage before appealing officially to the British government.
+
+</p>
+<p>Of course Baboo went, much to the disgust of Aboo Din, the <i>syce</i>.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb31" href="#pb31">31</a>]</span></p>
+<p>I never was able to refuse the little fellow anything, and I knew if I left him behind he would be revenged by running away.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had vowed again and again that Baboo should stay lost the next time he indulged in his periodical vanishing act, but each
+time when night came and Aboo Din, the <i>syce</i>, and Fatima, the mother, crept pathetically along the veranda to where I was smoking and steeling my heart against the little
+rascal, I would snatch up my cork helmet and spring into my cart, which Aboo Din had kept waiting inside the stables for the
+moment when I should relent.
+
+</p>
+<p>Since Baboo had become a hero and earned the appellation of the Harimau-Anak, his vanity directed his footsteps toward Kampong
+Glam, the Malay quarter of Singapore. Here he was generally to be found, seated on a richly hued Indian rug, with his feet
+drawn up under him, amid a circle of admiring shopkeepers, <i>syces</i>, <i>kebuns</i>, and fishermen, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb32" href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>narrating for the hundredth time how he had been caught at <span class="corr" id="xd0e742" title="Source: Changi">Changhi</span> by a tiger, carried through the jungle on its back until he came to a great banian tree, into which he had crawled while
+the tiger slept, how a <i>sladang</i> (wild bull) came out of the lagoon and killed the tiger, and how Tuan Consul and Aboo Din, the father, had found him and
+kissed him many times.
+
+</p>
+<p>Often he enlarged on the well-known story and repeated long conversations that he had carried on with the tiger while they
+were journeying through the jungle.
+
+</p>
+<p>A brass lamp hung above his head in which the cocoanut oil sputtered and burned and cast a fitful half-light about the box-like
+stall.
+
+</p>
+<p>Only the eager faces of the listeners stood out clear and distinct against the shadowy background of tapestries from Madras
+and Bokhara, soft rich rugs from Afghanistan and Persia, curiously wrought finger bowls of brass <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb33" href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>and copper from Delhi and Siam, and piles of cunningly painted <i>sarongs</i> from Java.
+
+</p>
+<p>Close against a naked fisherman sat the owner of the bazaar in tall, conical silk-plaited hat and flowing robes, ministering
+to the wants of the little actor, as the soft, monotonous voice paused for a brief instant for the tiny cups of black coffee.
+
+</p>
+<p>I never had the heart to interrupt him in the midst of one of these dramatic recitals, but would stand respectfully without
+the circle of light until he had finished the last sentence.
+
+</p>
+<p>He was not frightened when I thrust the squatting natives right and left, and he did not forget to arise and touch the back
+of his open palm to his forehead, with a calm and reverent, &#8220;<i>Tabek, Tuan</i>&#8221; (Greeting, my lord).
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>So Baboo went with us to fight pirates.
+
+</p>
+<p>He unrolled his mat out on the bow where every dash of warm salt water wet <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb34" href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>his brown skin, and where he could watch the flying fish dash across our way.
+
+</p>
+<p>He was very quiet during the two days of the trip, as though he were fully conscious of the heavy responsibility that rested
+upon his young shoulders. I had called him a boaster and it had cut him to the quick.
+
+</p>
+<p>We found the wreck of the <i>Bunker Hill</i> on a sunken coral reef near the mouth of the Pahang River, but every vestige of her cargo and stores was gone, even to the
+glass in her cabin windows and the brasses on her rails.
+
+</p>
+<p>We worked in along the shore and kept a lookout for camps or signals, but found none.
+
+</p>
+<p>I decided to go up the river as far as possible in the launch in hope of coming across some trace of the missing crew, although
+I was satisfied that they had been captured by the noted rebel chief, the Orang Kayah of Semantan, or by his more famous lieutenant,
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb35" href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>the crafty Panglima Muda of Jempol, and were being held for ransom.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was late in the afternoon when we entered the mouth of the Sungi Pahang.
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din advised a delay until the next morning.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Orang Kayah&#8217;s Malays are pirates, Tuan,&#8221; he said, with a sinister shrug of his bare shoulders, &#8220;he has many men and swift
+<i>praus</i>; the Dutch, at Rio, have sold them guns, and they have their <i>krises</i>,&#8212;they are cowards in the day.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I smiled at the <i>syce&#8217;s</i> fears.
+
+</p>
+<p>I knew that the days of piracy in the Straits of Malacca, save for an occasional outbreak of high-sea petty larceny on a Chinese
+lumber junk or a native trader&#8217;s <i>tonkang</i>, were past, and I did not believe that the rebels would have the hardihood to attack, day or night, a boat, however unprotected,
+bearing the American flag.
+
+</p>
+<p>For an hour or more we ran along between <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb36" href="#pb36">36</a>]</span>the mangrove-bordered shores against a swiftly flowing, muddy current.
+
+</p>
+<p>The great tangled roots of these trees stood up out of the water like a fretwork of lace, and the interwoven branches above
+our heads shut out the glassy glare of the sun. We pushed on until the dim twilight faded out, and only a phosphorescent glow
+on the water remained to reveal the snags that marked our course.
+
+</p>
+<p>The launch was anchored for the night close under the bank, where the maze of mangroves was beginning to give place to the
+solid ground and the jungle.
+
+</p>
+<p>Myriads of fireflies settled down on us and hung from the low limbs of the overhanging trees, relieving the hot, murky darkness
+with their thousands of throbbing lamps.
+
+</p>
+<p>From time to time a crocodile splashed in the water as he slid heavily down the clayey bank at the bow.
+
+</p>
+<p>In the trees and rubber-vines all about us <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb37" href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>a colony of long-armed <i>wah-wah</i> monkeys whistled and chattered, and farther away the sharp, rasping note of a cicada kept up a continuous protest at our
+invasion.
+
+</p>
+<p>At intervals the long, quivering yell of a tiger frightened the garrulous monkeys into silence, and made us peer apprehensively
+toward the impenetrable blackness of the jungle.
+
+</p>
+<p>Aboo Din came to me as I was arranging my mosquito curtains for the night. He was casting quick, timid glances over his shoulder
+as he talked.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan, I no like this place. Too close bank. Ten boat-lengths down stream better. Baboo swear by Allah he see faces behind
+trees,&#8212;once, twice. Baboo good eyes.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I shook off the uncanny feeling that the place was beginning to cast over me, and turned fiercely on the faithful Aboo Din.
+
+</p>
+<p>He slunk away with a low salaam, muttering something about the Heaven-Born being <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb38" href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>all wise, and later I saw him in deep converse with his first-born under a palm-thatched <i>cadjang</i> on the bow.
+
+</p>
+<p>I was half inclined to take Aboo Din&#8217;s advice and drop down the stream. Then it occurred to me that I might better face an
+imaginary foe than the whirlpools and sunken snags of the Pahang.
+
+</p>
+<p>I posted sentinels fore and aft and lay down and closed my eyes to the legion of fireflies that made the night luminous, and
+my ears to the low, musical chant that arose fitfully from among my Malay servants on the stern.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Sikhs were big, massive fellows, fully six feet tall, with towering red turbans that accentuated their height fully a
+foot.
+
+</p>
+<p>They were regular artillery-men from Fort Canning, and had seen service all over India.
+
+</p>
+<p>They had not been in Singapore long enough to become acquainted with the Malay language or character, but they knew their
+duty, and I trusted to their military training <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb39" href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>rather than to my Malay&#8217;s superior knowledge for our safety during the night.
+
+</p>
+<p>I found out later that the cunning in Baboo&#8217;s small brown finger was worth all the precision and drill in the Sikh sergeant&#8217;s
+great body.
+
+</p>
+<p>I fell asleep at last, lulled by the tenderly crooned promises of the Koran, and the drowsy, intermittent prattle of the monkeys
+among the varnished leaves above. The night was intensely hot; not a breath of air could stir within our living-cabin, and
+the cooling moisture which always comes with nightfall on the equator was lapped up by the thirsty fronds above our heads,
+so that I had not slept many hours before I awoke dripping with perspiration, and faint.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was an impression in my mind that I had been awakened by the falling of glass.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Sikh saluted silently as I stepped out on the deck.
+
+</p>
+<p>It lacked some hours of daylight, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb40" href="#pb40">40</a>]</span>there was nothing to do but go back to my bed, vowing never again to camp for the night along the steaming shores of a jungle-covered
+stream.
+
+</p>
+<p>I slept but indifferently; I missed the cooling swish of the <i>punkah</i>, and all through my dreams the crackle and breaking of glass seemed to mingle with the insistent buzz of the tiger-gnats.
+
+</p>
+<p>Baboo&#8217;s diminutive form kept flitting between me and the fireflies.
+
+</p>
+<p>The first half-lights of morning were struggling down through the green canopy above when I was brought to my feet by the
+discharge of a Winchester and a long, shrill cry of fright and pain.
+
+</p>
+<p>Before I could disentangle myself from the meshes of the mosquito net I could see dimly a dozen naked forms drop lightly on
+to the deck from the obscurity of the bank, followed in each case by a long, piercing scream of pain.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb41" href="#pb41">41</a>]</span></p>
+<p>I snatched up my revolver and rushed out on to the deck in my bare feet.
+
+</p>
+<p>Some one grasped me by the shoulder and shouted:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Jaga biak, biak, Tuan</i> (be careful, Tuan), pirates!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I recognized Aboo Din&#8217;s voice, and I checked myself just as my feet came in contact with a broken beer bottle.
+
+</p>
+<p>The entire surface of the little deck was strewn with glittering star-shaped points that corresponded with the fragments before
+me.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had not a moment to investigate, however, for in the gloom, where the bow of the launch touched the foliage-meshed bank,
+a scene of wild confusion was taking place.
+
+</p>
+<p>Shadowy forms were leaping, one after another, from the branches above on to the deck. I slowly cocked my revolver, doubting
+my senses, for each time one of the invaders reached the deck he sprang into the air with the long, thrilling cry of pain
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb42" href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>that had awakened me, and with another bound was on the bulwarks and over the side of the launch, clinging to the railing.
+
+</p>
+<p>With each cry, Baboo&#8217;s mocking voice came out, shrill and exultant, from behind a pile of life-preservers. &#8220;O Allah, judge
+the dogs. They would <i>kris</i> the great Tuan as he slept&#8212;the pariahs!&#8212;but they forgot so mean a thing as Baboo!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The smell of warm blood filled the air, and a low snarl among the rubber-vines revealed the presence of a tiger.
+
+</p>
+<p>I felt Aboo Din&#8217;s hand tremble on my shoulder.
+
+</p>
+<p>The five Sikhs were drawn up in battle array before the cabin door, waiting for the word of command. I glanced at them and
+hesitated.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Tid &#8217;apa, Tuan</i>&#8221; (never mind), Aboo Din whispered with a proud ring in his voice.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Baboo blow Orang Kayah&#8217;s men away with the breath of his mouth.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb43" href="#pb43">43</a>]</span></p>
+<p>As he spoke the branches above the bow were thrust aside and a dark form hung for an instant as though in doubt, then shot
+straight down upon the corrugated surface of the deck.
+
+</p>
+<p>As before, a shriek of agony heralded the descent, followed by Baboo&#8217;s laugh, then the dim shape sprang wildly upon the bulwark,
+lost its hold, and went over with a great splash among the labyrinth of snakelike mangrove roots.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was the rushing of many heavy forms through the red mud, a snapping of great jaws, and there was no mistaking the almost
+mortal cry that arose from out the darkness. I had often heard it when paddling softly up one of the wild Malayan rivers.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was the death cry of a <i>wah-wah</i> monkey facing the cruel jaws of a crocodile.
+
+</p>
+<p>I plunged my fingers into my ears to smother the sound. I understood it all <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb44" href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>now. Baboo&#8217;s pirates, the dreaded Orang Kayah&#8217;s rebels, were the troop of monkeys we had heard the night before in the tambusa
+trees.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Baboo,&#8221; I shouted, &#8220;come here! What does this all mean?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The Tiger-Child glided from behind the protecting pile, and came close up to my legs.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan,&#8221; he whimpered, &#8220;Baboo see many faces behind trees. Baboo &#8217;fraid for Tuan,&#8212;Tuan great and good,&#8212;save Baboo from tiger,&#8212;Baboo
+break up all glass bottles&#8212;old bottles&#8212;Tuan no want old bottle&#8212;Baboo and Aboo Din, the father, put them on deck so when Orang
+Kayah&#8217;s men come out of jungle and drop from trees on deck they cut their feet on glass. Baboo is through talking,&#8212;Tuan no
+whip Baboo!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>There was the pathetic little quaver in his voice that I knew so well.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But they were monkeys, Baboo, not pirates.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb45" href="#pb45">45</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Baboo shrugged his brown shoulders and kept his eyes on my feet.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Allah is good!&#8221; he muttered.
+
+</p>
+<p>Allah was good; they might have been pirates.
+
+</p>
+<p>The snarl of the tiger was growing more insistent and near. I gave the order, and the boat backed out into mid-stream.
+
+</p>
+<p>As the sun was reducing the gloom of the sylvan tunnel to a translucent twilight, we floated down the swift current toward
+the ocean.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had given up all hope of finding the shipwrecked men, and decided to ask the government to send a gunboat to demand their
+release.
+
+</p>
+<p>As the bow of the launch passed the wreck of the <i>Bunker Hill</i> and responded to the long even swell of the Pacific, Baboo beckoned sheepishly to Aboo Din, and together they swept all trace
+of his adventure into the green waters.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb46" href="#pb46">46</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Among the souvenirs of my sojourn in Golden Chersonese is a bit of amber-colored glass bearing the world-renowned name of
+a London brewer. There is a dark stain on one side of it that came from the hairy foot of one of Baboo&#8217;s &#8220;pirates.&#8221;
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb47" href="#pb47">47</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch3" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">How we Played Robinson Crusoe</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">In the Straits of Malacca</h2>
+<p>Two hours&#8217; steam south from Singapore, out into the famous Straits of Malacca, or one day&#8217;s steam north from the equator,
+stands Raffles&#8217;s Lighthouse. Sir Stamford Raffles, the man from whom it took its name, rests in Westminster Abbey, and a heroic-sized
+bronze statue of him graces the centre of the beautiful ocean esplanade of Singapore, the city he founded.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was on the rocky island on which stands this light, that we&#8212;the mistress and I&#8212;played Robinson Crusoe, or, to be nearer
+the truth, Swiss Family Robinson.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was hard to imagine, I confess, that the beautiful steam launch that brought us was a wreck; that our half-dozen Chinese
+servants <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb48" href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>were members of the family; that the ton of impedimenta was the flotsam of the sea; that the Eurasian keeper and his attendants
+were cannibals; but we closed our eyes to all disturbing elements, and only remembered that we were alone on a sunlit rock
+in the midst of a sunlit sea, and that the dreams of our childhood were, to some extent, realized.
+
+</p>
+<p>What live American boy has not had the desire, possibly but half-admitted, to some day be like his hero, dear old Crusoe,
+on a tropical island, monarch of all, hampered by no dictates of society or fashion? I admit my desire, and, further, that
+it did not leave me as I grew older.
+
+</p>
+<p>We had just time to inspect our little island home before the sun went down, far out in the Indian Ocean.
+
+</p>
+<p>Originally the island had been but a barren, uneven rock, the resting-place for gulls; but now its summit has been made flat
+by a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb49" href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>coating of concrete. There is just enough earth between the concrete and the rocky edges of the island to support a circle
+of cocoanut trees, a great almond tree, and a queer-looking banian tree, whose wide-spreading arms extend over nearly half
+the little plaza. Below the lighthouse, and set back like caves into the side of the island, are the kitchen and the servants&#8217;
+quarters, a covered passageway connecting them with the rotunda of the tower, in which we have set our dining table.
+
+</p>
+<p>Ah Ming, our &#8220;China boy,&#8221; seemed to be inveterate in his determination to spoil our Swiss Family Robinson illusion. We were
+hardly settled before he came to us.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Mem</i>&#8221; (mistress), &#8220;no have got ice-e-blox. Ice-e all glow away.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well, Ming. Dig a hole in the ground, and put the ice in it.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can dig? Glound all same, hard like ice-e.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb50" href="#pb50">50</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, let the ice melt,&#8221; I replied. &#8220;Robinson Crusoe had no ice.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>In a half-hour Jim, the cook, came up to speak to the &#8220;<i>Mem</i>.&#8221; He lowered his cue, brushed the creases out of his spotless shirt, drew his face down, and commenced:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mem, no have got chocolate, how can make puddlin&#8217;?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I laughed outright. Jim looked hurt.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jim, did you ever hear of one Crusoe?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, <i>Tuan</i>!&#8221; (Lord.)
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he was a Tuan who lived for thirty years without once eating chocolate &#8216;puddlin&#8217;.&#8217; We&#8217;ll not eat any for ten days.
+<i>Sabe?</i>&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Jim retired, mortified and astonished.
+
+</p>
+<p>Inside of another half-hour, the <i>Tukang Ayer</i>, or water-carrier, arrived on the scene. He was simply dressed in a pair of knee-breeches. He complained of a lack of silver
+polish, and was told to pound up a stone for the knives, and let the silver alone.
+
+</p>
+<p>We are really in the heart of a small archipelago. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb51" href="#pb51">51</a>]</span>All about us are verdure-covered islands. They are now the homes of native fishermen, but a century ago they were hiding-places
+for the fierce Malayan pirates whose sanguinary deeds made the peninsula a byword in the mouths of Europeans.
+
+</p>
+<p>A rocky beach extends about the island proper, contracting and expanding as the tide rises and falls. On this beach a hundred
+and one varieties of shells glisten in the salt water, exposing their delicate shades of coloring to the rays of the sun.
+Coral formations of endless design and shape come to view through the limpid spectrum, forming a perfect submarine garden
+of wondrous beauty. Through the shrubs, branches, ferns, and sponges of coral, the brilliantly colored fish of the Southern
+seas sport like goldfish in some immense aquarium.
+
+</p>
+<p>We draw out our chairs within the protection of the almond tree, and watch the sun sink slowly to a level with the masts of
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb52" href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>a bark that is bound for Java and the Bornean coasts. The black, dead lava of our island becomes molten for the time, and
+the flakes of salt left on the coral reef by the outgoing tide are filled with suggestions of the gold of the days of &#8217;49.
+A faint breeze rustles among the long, fan-like leaves of the palm, and brings out the rich yellow tints with their background
+of green. A clear, sweet aroma comes from out the almond tree. The red sun and the white sheets of the bark sail away together
+for the Spice Islands of the South Pacific.
+
+</p>
+<p>We sleep in a room in the heart of the lighthouse. The stairway leading to it is so steep that we find it necessary to hold
+on to a knotted rope as we ascend. Hundreds of little birds, no larger than sparrows, dash by the windows, flying into the
+face of the gale that rages during the night, keeping up all the time a sharp, high note that sounds like wind blowing on
+telegraph wires.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb53" href="#pb53">53</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Every morning, at six o&#8217;clock, Ah Ming clambers up the perpendicular stairway, with tea and toast. We swallow it hurriedly,
+wrap a <i>sarong</i> about us, and take a dip in the sea, the while keeping our eyes open for sharks. Often, after a bath, while stretched out
+in a long chair, we see the black fins of a man-eater cruising just outside the reef. I do not know that I ever hit one, but
+I have used a good deal of lead firing at them.
+
+</p>
+<p>One morning we started on an exploring expedition, in the keeper&#8217;s jolly-boat. It was only a short distance to the first island,
+a small rocky one, with a bit of sandy beach, along which were scattered the charred embers of past fires. From under our
+feet darted the grotesque little robber-crabs, with their stolen shell houses on their backs. A great white jellyfish, looking
+like a big tapioca pudding, had been washed up with the tide out of the reach of the sea, and a small colony of ants was feasting
+on it. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb54" href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>We did not try to explore the interior of the islet. We named it Fir Island from its crown of fir-like casuarina trees, which
+sent out on every breeze a balsamic odor that was charged with far-away New England recollections.
+
+</p>
+<p>The next island was a large one. The keeper said it was called <i>Pulo Seneng</i>, or Island of Leisure, and held a little <i>kampong</i>, or village of Malays, under an old <i>punghulo</i>, or chief, named Wahpering. We found, on nearing the verdure-covered island, that it looked much larger than it really was.
+The woods grew out into the sea for a quarter of a mile. We entered the wood by a narrow walled inlet, and found ourselves
+for the first time in a mangrove swamp. The trees all seemed to be growing on stilts. A perfect labyrinth of roots stood up
+out of the water, like a rough scaffold, on which rested the tree trunks, high and dry above the flood. From the limbs of
+the trees hung <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb55" href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>the seed pods, two feet in length, sharp-pointed at the lower end, while on the upper end, next to the tree, was a russet
+pear-shaped growth. They are so nicely balanced that when in their maturity they drop from the branches, they fall upright
+in the mud, literally planting themselves.
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> house, or bungalow, stood at the head of the inlet. The old man&#8212;he must have been sixty&#8212;donned his best clothes, relieved
+his mouth of a great red quid of betel, and came out to welcome us. He gracefully touched his forehead with the back of his
+open palm, and mumbled the Malay greeting:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Tabek, Tuan?</i>&#8221; (How are you, my lord?)
+
+</p>
+<p>When the keeper gave him our cards, and announced us in florid language, the genial old fellow touched his forehead again,
+and in his best Bugis Malay begged the great Rajah and Ranee to enter his humble home.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb56" href="#pb56">56</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The only way of entering a Malay home is by a rickety ladder six feet high, and through a four-foot opening. I am afraid that
+the great &#8220;Rajah and Ranee&#8221; lost some of their lately acquired dignity in accepting the invitation.
+
+</p>
+<p>Wahpering&#8217;s bungalow, other than being larger and roomier than the ordinary bungalow, was exactly like all others in style
+and architecture.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was built close to the water&#8217;s edge, on palm posts six feet above the ground. This was for protection from the tiger, from
+thieves, from the water, and for sanitary reasons. Within the house we could just stand upright. The floor was of split bamboo,
+and was elastic to the foot, causing a sensation which at first made us step carefully. The open places left by the crossing
+of the bamboo slats were a great convenience to the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> wives, as they could sweep all the refuse of the house through <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb57" href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>them; they might also be a great accommodation to the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> enemies, if he had any, for they could easily ascertain the exact mat on which he slept, and stab him with their keen <i>krises</i> from beneath.
+
+</p>
+<p>In one corner of the room was the hand-loom on which the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> old wife was weaving the universal article of dress, the <i>sarong</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>The weaving of a <i>sarong</i> represents the labor of twenty days, and when we gave the dried-up old worker two dollars and a half for one, her <i>syrah</i>-stained gums broke forth from between her bright-red lips in a ghastly grin of pleasure.
+
+</p>
+<p>There must have been the representatives of at least four generations under the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> hospitable roof. Men and women, alike, were dressed in the skirt-like <i>sarong</i> which fell from the waist down; above that some of the older women wore another garment called a <i>kabaya</i>. The married women <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb58" href="#pb58">58</a>]</span>were easily distinguishable by their swollen gums and filed teeth.
+
+</p>
+<p>The roof and sides of the house were of <i>attap</i>. This is made from the long, arrow-like leaves of the nipah palm. Unlike its brother palms&#8212;the cocoa, the sago, the gamooty,
+and the areca&#8212;the nipah is short, and more like a giant cactus in growth. Its leaves are stripped off by the natives, then
+bent over a bamboo rod and sewed together with fibres of the same palm. When dry they become glazed and waterproof.
+
+</p>
+<p>The tall, slender areca palm, which stands about every <i>kampong</i>, supplies the natives with their great luxury&#8212;an acorn, known as the betel-nut, which, when crushed and mixed with lime leaves,
+takes the place of our chewing tobacco. In fact, the bright-red juice seen oozing from the corners of a Malay&#8217;s mouth is as
+much a part of himself as is his <i>sarong</i> or <i>kris</i>. Betel-nut chewing holds its own <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb59" href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>against the opium of the Chinese and the tobacco of the European.
+
+</p>
+<p>As soon as we shook hands ceremoniously with the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> oldest wife, and <i>tabeked</i> to the rest of his big family, the old man scrambled down the ladder, and sent a boy up a cocoanut tree for some fresh nuts.
+In a moment half a dozen of the great, oval, green nuts came pounding down into the sand. Another little fellow snatched them
+up, and with a sharp <i>parang</i>, or hatchet-like knife, cut away the soft shuck until the cocoanut took the form of a pyramid, at the apex of which he bored
+a hole, and a stream of delicious, cool milk gurgled out. We needed no second invitation to apply our lips to the hole. The
+meat inside was so soft that we could eat it with a spoon. The cocoanut of commerce contains hardly a suggestion of the tender,
+fleshy pulp of a freshly picked nut.
+
+</p>
+<p>We left the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> house with the old chief in the bow of our boat&#8212;he insisted <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb60" href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>upon seeing that we were properly announced to his subjects&#8212;and proceeded along the coast for half a mile, and then up a swampy
+lagoon to its head.
+
+</p>
+<p>The tall tops of the palms wrapped everything in a cool, green twilight. The waters of the lagoon were filled with little
+bronze forms, swimming and sporting about in its tepid depths regardless of the cruel eyes that gleamed at them from great
+log-like forms among the mangrove roots.
+
+</p>
+<p>Dozens of naked children fled up the rickety ladders of their homes as we approached. Ring-doves flew through the trees, and
+tame monkeys chattered at us from every corner. The men came out to meet us, and did the hospitalities of their village; and
+when we left, our boat was loaded down with presents of fish and fruit.
+
+</p>
+<p>Almost every day after that did we visit the <i>kampong</i>, and were always welcomed in the same cordial manner.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb61" href="#pb61">61</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Wahpering was tireless in his attentions. He kept his <i>Sampan Besar</i>, or big boat, with its crew at our disposal day after day.
+
+</p>
+<p>One day I showed him the American flag. He gazed at it thoughtfully and said, &#8220;<i>Biak!</i>&#8221; (Good.) &#8220;How big your country?&#8221; I tried to explain. He listened for a moment. &#8220;Big as <i>Negri Blanda</i>?&#8221; (Holland.) I laughed. &#8220;A thousand times larger!&#8221; The old fellow shook his head sadly, and looked at me reproachfully.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Tidah! Tidah!</i>&#8221; (No, no.) &#8220;Rajah, <i>Orang Blanda</i> (Dutchman) show me chart of the world. Holland all red. Take almost all the world. Rest of country small, small. All in one
+little corner. How can Rajah say his country big?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>There was no denying the old man&#8217;s knowledge; I, too, had seen one of these Dutch maps of the world, which are circulated
+in Java to make the natives think that Holland is the greatest nation on earth.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb62" href="#pb62">62</a>]</span></p>
+<p>One day glided into another with surprising rapidity. We could swim, explore, or lie out in our long chairs and read and listlessly
+dream. All about our little island the silver sheen of the sea was checkered with sails. These strange native craft held for
+me a lasting fascination. I gazed out at them as they glided by and saw in them some of the rose-colored visions of my youth.
+Piracy, Indian Rajahs, and spice islands seemed to live in their queer red sails and palm-matting roofs. At night a soft,
+warm breeze blew from off shore and lulled us to sleep ere we were aware.
+
+</p>
+<p>One morning the old chief made us a visit before we were up. He announced his approach by a salute from a muzzle-loading musket.
+I returned it by a discharge from my revolver. He had come over with the morning tide to ask us to spend the day, as his guests,
+wild-pig hunting. Of course we accepted with alacrity. I am not going to <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb63" href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>tell you how we found all the able-bodied men and dogs on the island awaiting us, how they beat the jungle with frantic yells
+and shouts while we waited on the opposite side, or even how many pigs we shot. It would all take too long.
+
+</p>
+<p>We went fishing every day. The many-colored and many-shaped fish we caught were a constant wonderment to us. One was bottle-green,
+with sky-blue fins and tail, and striped with lines of gold. Its skin was stiff and firm as patent leather. Another was pale
+blue, with a bright-red proboscis two inches long. We caught cuttle-fish with great lustrous eyes, long jelly feelers, and
+a plentiful supply of black fluid; squibs, prawns, mullets, crabs, and devil-fish. These last are considered great delicacies
+by the natives. We had one fried. Its meat was perfectly white, and tasted like a tallow candle.
+
+</p>
+<p>The day on which we were to leave, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb64" href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>Wahpering brought us some fruit and fish and a pair of ring-doves. Motioning me to one side, he whispered, the while looking
+shyly at the mistress, &#8220;Ranee very beautiful! How much you pay?&#8221; I was staggered for the moment, and made him repeat his question.
+This time I could not mistake him. &#8220;How much you pay for wife?&#8221; He gave his thumb a jerk in the direction of the mistress.
+I saw that he was really serious, so I collected my senses, and with a practical, businesslike air answered, &#8220;Two hundred
+dollars.&#8221; The old fellow sighed.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The great Rajah very rich! I pay fifty for best wife.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I have not tried to tell you all we did on our tropical island playing Robinson Crusoe. I have only tried to convey some little
+impression of a happy ten days that will ever be remembered as one more of those glorious, Oriental chapters in our lives
+which are filled with the gorgeous colors of crimson <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb65" href="#pb65">65</a>]</span>and gold, the delicate perfumes of spice-laden breezes, and with imperishable visions of a strange, old-world life.
+
+</p>
+<p>They are chapters that we can read over and over again with an ever increasing interest as the years roll by<span class="corr" id="xd0e1213" title="Not in source">.</span>
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb66" href="#pb66">66</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch4" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">The Sarong</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">The Malay&#8217;s Chief Garment</h2>
+<p>No one knows who invented the <i>sarong</i>. When the great Sir Francis Drake skirted the beautiful jungle-bound shores of that strange Asian peninsula which seems forever
+to be pointing a wondering finger into the very heart of the greatest archipelago in the world, he found its inhabitants wearing
+the <i>sarong</i>. After a lapse of three centuries they still wear it,&#8212;neither Hindu invasion, Mohammedan conversion, Chinese immigration,
+nor European conquest has ever taken from them their national dress. Civilization has introduced many articles of clothing;
+but no matter how many of these are adopted, the Malay, from his Highness the Sultan of Johore, to the poorest fisherman <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb67" href="#pb67">67</a>]</span>of a squalid <i>kampong</i> on the muddy banks of a mangrove-hidden stream, religiously wears the <i>sarong</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>It is only an oblong cloth, this fashion-surviving garb, from two to four feet in width and some two yards long; sewn together
+at the ends. It looks like a gingham bag with the bottom out. The wearer steps into it, and with two or three ingenious twists
+tightens it round the waist, thus forming a skirt and, at the same time, a belt in which he carries the <i>kris</i>, or snake-like dagger, the inevitable pouch of areca nut for chewing, and the few copper cents that he dares not trust in
+his unlocked hut. The man&#8217;s skirt falls to his knees, and among the poor class forms his only article of dress, while the
+woman&#8217;s reaches to her ankles and is worn in connection with another <i>sarong</i> that is thrown over her head as a veil, so that when she is abroad and meets one of the opposite sex she can, Moslem-like,
+draw it about her face in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb68" href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>form of a long, narrow slit, showing only her coal-black eyes and thinly pencilled eyebrows.
+
+</p>
+<p>In style or design the <i>sarong</i> never changes. Like the tartan of the Highlanders, which it greatly resembles, it is invariably a check of gay colors. They
+are all woven of silk or cotton, or of silk and cotton mixed, by the native women, and no <i>attap</i>-thatched home is complete without its hand-loom.
+
+</p>
+<p>One day we crawled up the narrow, rickety ladder that led into the two by four opening of old Wahpering&#8217;s palm-shaded home.
+The little <i>punghulo</i> or chief, touched his forehead with the back of his open palm as we advanced cautiously over the open bamboo floor toward
+his old wife, who was seated in one corner by a low, horizontal window, weaving a <i>sarong</i> on a hand-loom. She looked up pleasantly with a soft &#8220;<i>Tabek</i>&#8221; (Greeting), and went on throwing her shuttle deftly through the brilliantly colored threads. The sharp bang of the dark,
+kamooning-wood bar drove the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb69" href="#pb69">69</a>]</span>thread in place and left room for another. Back and forth flew the shuttle, and thread after thread was added to the fabric,
+yet no perceptible addition seemed to be made.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long does it take to finish it?&#8221; I asked in Malay.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Twenty days,&#8221; she answered, with a broad smile, showing her black, filed teeth and <i>syrah</i>-stained lips.
+
+</p>
+<p>The red and brown <i>sarong</i> which she wore twisted tightly up under her armpits had cost her almost a month&#8217;s work; the green and yellow one her chief
+wore about his waist, a month more; the ones she used as screens to divide the interior into rooms, and those of the bevy
+of sons and daughters of all ages that crowded about us each cost a month&#8217;s more; and yet the labor and material combined
+in each represented less than two dollars of our money at the Bazaar in Singapore.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had not the heart to take the one that she offered the mistress, but insisted on giving <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb70" href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>in exchange a pearl-handled penknife, which the chief took, with many a touch of his forehead, &#8220;as a remembrance of the condescension
+of the <i>Orang American Rajah</i>.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Wahpering&#8217;s wife was not dressed to receive us, for we had come swiftly up the dim lagoon, over which her home was built,
+and had landed on the sandy beach unannounced. Had she known that we were coming, she would have been dressed as became the
+wife of the <i>Punghulo of Pulo Seneng</i> (Island of Leisure). The long, black hair would have been washed beautifully clean with the juice of limes, and twisted up
+as a crown on the top of her head. In it would have been stuck pins of the deep-red gold from Mt. Ophir, and sprays of jasmine
+and <i>chumpaka</i>. Under her silken <i>sarong</i> would have been an inner garment of white cotton, about her waist a zone of beaded cloth held in front by an oval plate,
+and over all would have been thrown a long, loose dressing-gown, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb71" href="#pb71">71</a>]</span>called the <i>kabaya</i>, falling to her knees and fastened down the front to the silver girdle with golden brooches. Her toes would have been covered
+with sandals cunningly embroidered in colored beads and gold tinsel.
+
+</p>
+<p>Wahpering, too, might have added to his <i>sarong</i> a thin vest, buttoned close up to the neck, a light dimity <i>baju</i>, or jacket, and a pair of loose silk drawers. They made no apology for their appearance, but did the honors of the house
+with a native grace, regaling us with the cool, fresh milk of the cocoanut, and the delicious globes of the mangosteens.
+
+</p>
+<p>The glare of the noonday sun, here on the equator, is inconceivable. It beats down in bald, irregular waves of heat that seem
+to stifle every living being and to burn the foliage to a cinder. Even the sharp, insistent whir of the cicada ceases when
+the thermometer on the sunny side of our palm-thatched <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb72" href="#pb72">72</a>]</span>bungalow reaches 155&deg;. If I am forced to go outside, I don my cork helmet, and hold a paper umbrella above it. Even then,
+after I have gone a half-hour, I feel dizzy and sick. I pass native after native, whose only head covering, if they have any
+at all save their short-cut black hair, is a handkerchief, stiffened, and tied with a peculiar twist on the head, or a rimless
+cap with possibly a text of the Koran embroidered on its front. It is only when they are on the sea from early morning to
+sunset, that they think it worth while to protect their heads with an umbrella-shaped, cane-worked head frame like those worn
+by the natives of Siam and China. The women I meet simply draw their <i>sarongs</i> more closely about their heads as the sun ascends higher and higher into the heavens, and go clattering off down the road
+in their wooden pattens, unconscious of my envy or wonderment.
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>sarong</i> is more to the Malay than is <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb73" href="#pb73">73</a>]</span>the kilt to the Scotchman. It is his dress by day and his covering at night. He uses it as a sail when far out from land in
+his cockle-shell boat, or as a bag in which to carry his provisions when following an elephant path through the dense jungle.
+
+</p>
+<p>The checks, in its design, although indistinguishable to the European, differ according to his tribe or clan, and serve him
+as a means of identification wherever he may be on the peninsula.
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>sarong</i> and <i>kris</i> are distinctly and solely Malayan; they are shared with no other country; they are to be placed side by side with the green
+turban of the Moslem pilgrim and the cimeter of the Prophet.
+
+</p>
+<p>A history of one, like the history of the other, embraces all that is tragical or romantic in Malayan story.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb74" href="#pb74">74</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch5" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">The Kris</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">And how the Malays use it</h2>
+<p>In an old dog-eared copy of Monteith&#8217;s Geography, I remember a picture of a half-dozen pirate <i>prahus</i> attacking a merchantman off a jungle-bordered shore. A blazing sun hung high in the heavens above the fated ship, and, to
+my youthful imagination, seemed to beat down on the tropical scene with a fierce, remorseless intensity. The wedge-shaped
+tops of some palm-thatched and palm-shaded huts could just be seen, set well back from the shore.
+
+</p>
+<p>I used to think that if I were a boy on that ship, I would slip quietly overboard, swim ashore, and while the pirates were
+busy fighting, I would set fire to their homes and so deliver the ship from their clutches. Little <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb75" href="#pb75">75</a>]</span>did I know then of the acres of bewildering mangrove swamps filled with the treacherous crocodiles that lie between the low-water
+line and the firm ground of the coast.
+
+</p>
+<p>But always the most striking thing in the little woodcut to me were the curious, snake-like knives that the naked natives
+held in their hands. I had never seen anything like them before. I went to the encyclop&aelig;dia and found that the name of the
+knife was spelled <i>kris</i> and pronounced <i>creese</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>The day-dreams which seemed impossible in the days of Monteith&#8217;s Geography have since been realized. I am living, perhaps,
+within sight of the very place where the scene of the picture was laid; for it was supposed to be illustrative of the Malay
+Peninsula; and, as I write, one of those snake-like <i>krises</i> lies on the table before me. It is a handsomer <i>kris</i> than those used by the actors in that much-studied picture of my youth. The sheath and handle are of solid gold&#8212;<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb76" href="#pb76">76</a>]</span>a rich yellow gold, mined at the foot of Mount Ophir, the very same mountain so famous in Bible history, from which King Solomon
+brought &#8220;gold, peacocks&#8217; feathers, and monkeys.&#8221; The wavy, flame-like blade is veined with gold, and its dull silvery surface
+is damascened with as much care as was ever taken with the old swords of Damascus. It is only an inch in width and a foot
+in length and does not look half as dangerous as a Turkish cimeter; yet it has a history that would put that of the tomahawk
+or the scalping-knife to shame. Many a fat Chinaman, trading between the Java islands and Amoy, has felt its keen edge at
+his throat and seen his rich cargo of spices and bird&#8217;s-nests rifled, his beloved Joss thrown overboard, and his queer old
+junk burnt before his eyes. Many a Dutch and English merchantman sailed from Batavia and Bombay in the days of the old East
+India Company and has never more been heard of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb77" href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>until some mutilated survivor returned with a harrowing tale of Malay piracy and of the lightning-like work of the dreaded
+<i>kris</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>I do not know whether my <i>kris</i> has ever taken life or not. Had it done so, I do not think the Sultan would have given it to me, for a <i>kris</i> becomes almost priceless after its baptism of blood. It is handed down from generation to generation, and its sanguine history
+becomes a part of the education of the young. Next to his Koran the <i>kris</i> is the most sacred thing the Malay possesses. He regards it with an almost superstitious reverence. My <i>kris</i> is dear to me, not from any superstitious reasons, but because it was given me by his Highness, the Sultan of Johore, the
+only independent sovereign on the peninsula, and because the gold of its sheath came from the jungle-covered slopes of Mount
+Ophir.
+
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p077.jpg" alt="The making of the kris" width="459" height="720"><p class="figureHead">The making of the kris</p>
+<p>&#8220;He fashions it from well-hammered and well-tempered Celebes iron&#8221;</p>
+</div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<p>The maker of the <i>kris</i> is a person of importance among the Malays, and ofttimes he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb78" href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>is made by his grateful Rajah a <i>Dato</i>, or Lord, for his skill. Like the blades of the sturdy armorers of the Crusades, his blades are considered, as he fashions
+them from well-hammered and well-tempered Celebes iron, works of art and models for futurity. He is exceedingly punctilious
+in regard to their shape, size, and general formation, and the process of giving them their beautiful water lines is quite
+a ceremony. First the razor-like edges are covered with a thin coating of wax to protect them from the action of the acids;
+then a mixture of boiled rice, sulphur, and salt is put on the blade and left for seven days until a film of rust rises to
+the surface. The blade is then immersed in the water of a young cocoanut or the juice of a pineapple and left seven days longer.
+It is next brushed with the juice of a lemon until all the rust is cleared away, and then rubbed with arsenic dissolved in
+lime-juice and washed with cold spring water. Finally <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb79" href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>it is anointed with cocoanut oil, and as a concluding test of its fineness and temper, it is said that in the old days its
+owner would rush out into the <i>kampong</i>, or village, and stab the first person he met.
+
+</p>
+<p>The sheath of the <i>kris</i> is generally made of <i>kamooning</i> wood, but often of ivory, gold, or silver. The handle, while more frequently of wood or buffalo horn, is sometimes of gold
+studded with precious stones and worth more than all the other possessions of its owner put together.
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>kris</i>, too, has its etiquette. It is always worn on the left side stuck into the folds of the <i>sarong</i>, or skirt, the national dress of the Malay. During an interview it is considered respectful to conceal it; and its handle
+is turned with its point close to the body of the wearer, if the wearer be friendly. If, however, there is ill blood existing,
+and the wearer is angry, the <i>kris</i> is exposed, and the point of the handle turned the reverse way.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb80" href="#pb80">80</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The <i>kris</i> as a weapon of offence and defence is now almost a thing of the past. It is rapidly going the way of the tomahawk and the
+boomerang&#8212;into the collector&#8217;s cabinet. There is a law in Singapore that forbids its being worn, and outside of Johore and
+the native states it is seldom seen. It is still used as an executioner&#8217;s knife by the protected Sultan of Selangor, its keen
+point being driven into the heart of the victim; but in a few years that practice, too, will be abolished by the humane intervention
+of the English government.
+
+</p>
+<p>It is to be hoped that the record of the <i>kris</i> is not as bad as it has been painted by some, and that at times in its bloody career it has been on the side of justice and
+right. The part it took in the piracy that once made the East Indian seas so famous was not always done for the sake of gain,
+but often for revenge and for independence.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb81" href="#pb81">81</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch6" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">The White Rajah of Borneo</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">The Founding of Sarawak</h2>
+<p>In the East Indian seas, by Europeans and natives alike, two names are revered with a singleness and devotion that place them
+side by side with the national heroes of all countries.
+
+</p>
+<p>The men that bear the names are Englishmen, yet the countless islands of the vast Malayan archipelago are populated by a hundred
+European, African, and Asiatic races.
+
+</p>
+<p>Sir Stamford Raffles founded the great city of Singapore, and Sir James Brooke, the &#8220;White Rajah,&#8221; carved out of a tropical
+wilderness just across the equator, in Borneo, the kingdom of Sarawak.
+
+</p>
+<p>There is no one man in all history with whom you may compare Rajah Brooke. His <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb82" href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>career was the score of a hero of the footlights or of the dime novel rather than the life of an actual history-maker in this
+prosaic nineteenth century. What is true of him is also true in a less degree of his famous nephew and successor, Sir Charles
+Brooke, G. C. M. C., the present Rajah.
+
+</p>
+<p>One morning in Singapore, as I sipped my tea and broke open one cool, delicious mangosteen after another, I was reading in
+the daily <i>Straits Times</i> an account of the descent of a band of head-hunting Dyaks from the jungles of the Rejang River in Borneo on an isolated fishing
+<i>kampong</i>, or village,&#8212;of how they killed men, women, and children, and carried their heads back to their strongholds in triumph, and
+of how, in the midst of their feasting and ceremonies, Rajah Brooke, with a little company of fierce native soldiery, had
+surprised and exterminated them to the last man; and just then the sound of heavy cannonading in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb83" href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>the harbor below caused me to drop my paper.
+
+</p>
+<p>In a moment the great guns from Fort Canning answered. I counted&#8212;seventeen&#8212;and turned inquiringly to the naked <i>punkah-wallah</i>, who stood just outside in the shade of the wide veranda, listlessly pulling the rattan rope that moved the stiff fan above
+me.
+
+</p>
+<p>His brown, open palm went respectfully to his forehead.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;His Highness, the Rajah of Sarawak,&#8221; he answered proudly in Malay. &#8220;He come in gunboat <i>Rane&eacute;</i> to the <span class="corr" id="xd0e1480" title="Source: Gymkahna">Gymkhana</span> races,&#8212;bring gold cup for prizes and fast runners. Come every year, Tuan.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I had forgotten that it was the first day of the long-looked-for <span class="corr" id="xd0e1485" title="Source: Gymkahna">Gymkhana</span> races. A few hours later I met this remarkable man, whose thrilling exploits had commanded my earliest boyish admiration.
+
+</p>
+<p>The kindly old Sultan of Johore, the old <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb84" href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>rebel Sultan of Pahang, the Sultan of Lingae, in all the finery of their native silks and jewels, the nobles of their courts,
+and a dozen other dignitaries, were on the grandstand and in the paddock as we entered, yet no one but a modest, gray-haired
+little man by the side of the English governor had any place in my thoughts. We knew his history. It was as romantic as the
+wild careers of Pizarro and Cortez; as charming as those of Robinson Crusoe and the dear old Swiss Family Robinson; as tragic
+as Captain Kidd&#8217;s or Morgan&#8217;s; and withal, it was modelled after our own Washington. In him I saw the full realization of
+every boy&#8217;s wildest dreams,&#8212;a king of a tropical island.
+
+</p>
+<p>The bell above the judges&#8217; pavilion sounded, and a little whirlwind of running griffins dashed by amid the yells of a thousand
+natives in a dozen different tongues. The Rajah leaned out over the gayly decorated <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb85" href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>railing with the eagerness of a boy, as he watched his own colors in the thick of the race.
+
+</p>
+<p>The surging mass of nakedness below caught sight of him, and another yell rent the air, quite distinct from the first, for
+Malayan and Kling, Tamil and Siamese, Dyak and Javanese, Hindu, Bugis, Burmese, and Lascar, recognized the famous White Rajah
+of Borneo, the man who, all unaided, had broken the power of the savage head-hunting Dyaks, and driven from the seas the fierce
+Malayan pirates. The yell was not a cheer. It was a tribute that a tiger might make to his tamer.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Rajah understood. He was used to such sinister outbursts of admiration, for he never took his eyes from the course. He
+was secure on his throne now, but I could not but wonder if that yell, which sent a strange thrill through me, did not bring
+up recollections of one of the hundred sanguinary <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb86" href="#pb86">86</a>]</span>scenes through which he and his great uncle, the elder Rajah Brooke, had gone when fighting for their lives and kingdom.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Sultan of Johore&#8217;s griffin won, and the Rajah stepped back to congratulate him. I, too, passed over to where he stood,
+and the kindly old Sultan took me by the hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have a very tender spot in my heart for all Americans,&#8221; the Rajah replied to his Highness&#8217;s introduction. &#8220;It was your
+great republic that first recognized the independence of Sarawak.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>As we chatted over the triumph of Gladstone, the silver bill, the tariff, and a dozen topics of the day, I was thinking of
+the head-hunters of whom I had read in the morning paper. I was thinking, too, of how this man&#8217;s uncle had, years before,
+with a boat&#8217;s crew of English boys, carved out of an unknown island a principality larger than the state of New York, reduced
+its savage population to orderly tax-paying citizens, cleared <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb87" href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>the Borneo and Java seas of their thousands of pirate <i>praus</i>, and in their place built up a merchant fleet and a commerce of nearly five millions of dollars a year. The younger Rajah,
+too, had done his share in the making of the state. In his light tweed suit and black English derby, he did not look the strange,
+impossible hero of romance I had painted him; but there was something in his quiet, clear, well-bred English accent, and the
+strong, deep lines about his eyes and mouth, that impressed one with a consciousness of tremendous reserve force. He spoke
+always slowly, as though wearied by early years of fighting and exposure in the searching heat of the Bornean sun.
+
+</p>
+<p>We became better acquainted later at balls and dinners, and he was never tired of thanking me for my country&#8217;s kindness.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>In 1819, when the English took Malacca and the Malay peninsula from the Dutch, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb88" href="#pb88">88</a>]</span>they agreed to surrender all claims to the islands south of the pirate-infested Straits of Malacca.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Dutch, contented with the fabulously rich island of Java and its twenty-six millions of mild-mannered natives, left the
+great islands of Sumatra, Borneo, and Papua to the savage rulers and savage nations that held them.
+
+</p>
+<p>The son of an English clergyman, on a little schooner, with a friend or two and a dozen sailors, sailed into these little
+known and dangerous waters one day nineteen years later. His mind was filled with dreams of an East-Indian empire; he was
+burning to emulate Cortez and Pizarro, without practising their abuses. He had entered the English army and had been so dangerously
+wounded while leading a charge in India after his superiors had fallen that he had been retired on a pension before his twenty-first
+year. While regaining his health, he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb89" href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>had travelled through India, Malaya, and China, and had written a journal of his wanderings. During this period his ambitions
+were crowding him on to an enterprise that was as foolhardy as the first voyage of Columbus.
+
+</p>
+<p>He had spied those great tropical islands that touched the equator, and he coveted them.
+
+</p>
+<p>After his father&#8217;s death he invested his little fortune in a schooner, and in spite of all the protests and prayers of his
+family and friends, he sailed for Singapore, and thence across to the northwest coast of Borneo, landing at Kuching, on the
+Sarawak River, in 1838.
+
+</p>
+<p>He had no clearly outlined plan of operations,&#8212;he was simply waiting his chance. The province of Sarawak, a dependency of
+the Sultan of Borneo, was governed by an old native rajah, whose authority was menaced by the fierce, head-hunting Dyaks of
+the interior. Brooke&#8217;s chance had come. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb90" href="#pb90">90</a>]</span>He boldly offered to put down the rebellion if the Rajah would make him his general and second to the throne. The Rajah cunningly
+accepted the offer, eager to let the hair-brained young infidel annoy his foes, but with no intention of keeping his promise.
+
+</p>
+<p>After days of marching with his little crew and a small army of natives, through the almost impenetrable rubber jungles, after
+a dozen hard-fought battles and deeds of personal heroism, any one of which would make a story, the head-hunters were crushed
+and some kind of order restored. He refused to allow the Rajah to torture the prisoners,&#8212;thereby winning their gratitude,&#8212;and
+he refused to be dismissed from his office. He had won his rank, and he appealed to the Sultan. The wily Sultan recognized
+that in this stranger he had found a man who would be able to collect his revenue, and much to Brooke&#8217;s surprise, a courier
+entered Kuching, the capital, one day <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb91" href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>and summarily dismissed the native Rajah and proclaimed the young Englishman Rajah of Sarawak.
+
+</p>
+<p>Brooke was a king at last. His empire was before him, but he was only king because the reigning Sultan relinquished a part
+of his dominions that he was unable to control. The tasks to be accomplished before he could make his word law were ones that
+England, Holland, and the navies of Europe had shirked. His so-called subjects were the most notorious and daring pirates
+in the history of the world; they were head-hunters, they practised slavery, and they were cruel and blood-thirsty on land
+and sea. Out of such elements this boy king built his kingdom. How he did it would furnish tales that would outdo Verne, Kingston,
+and Stevenson.
+
+</p>
+<p>He abolished military marauding and every form of slavery, established courts, missions, and school houses, and waged war,
+single-handed, against head-hunting and piracy.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb92" href="#pb92">92</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Head-hunting is to the Dyaks what amok is to the Malays or scalping to the American Indians. It is even more. No Dyak woman
+would marry a man who could not decorate their home with at least one human head. Often bands of Dyaks, numbering from five
+to seven thousand, would sally forth from their fortifications and cruise along the coast four or five hundred miles, to surprise
+a village and carry the inhabitants&#8217; heads back in triumph.
+
+</p>
+<p>To-day head-hunting is practically stamped out, as is running amok among the Malays, although cases of each occur from time
+to time.
+
+</p>
+<p>As his subjects in the jungles were head-hunters, so those of the coast were pirates. Every harbor was a pirate haven. They
+lived in big towns, possessed forts and cannon, and acknowledged neither the suzerainty of the Sultan or the domination of
+the Dutch. They were stronger than the native rulers, and no European nation would go <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb93" href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>to the great expense of life and treasure needed to break their power. Brooke knew that his title would be but a mockery as
+long as the pirates commanded the mouths of all his rivers.
+
+</p>
+<p>With his little schooner, armed with three small guns and manned by a crew of white companions and Dyak sailors, he gave battle
+first to the weaker strongholds, gradually attaching the defeated to his standard. He found himself at the end of nine years
+their master and a king in something more than name. Combined with the qualities of a fearless fighter, he had the faculty
+of winning the good will and admiration of his foes.
+
+</p>
+<p>The fierce Suloos and Illanums became his fast friends. He left their chiefs in power, but punished every outbreak with a
+merciless hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>One of the many incidents of his checkered career shows that his spirit was all-powerful among them. He had invited the Chinese
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb94" href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>from Amoy to take up their residence at his capital, Kuching. They were traders and merchants, and soon built up a commerce.
+They became so numerous in time that they believed they could seize the government. The plot was successful, and during a
+night attack they overcame the Rajah&#8217;s small guard, and he escaped to the river in his pajamas without a single follower.
+
+</p>
+<p>Sir Charles told me one day, as we conversed on the broad veranda of the consulate, that that night was the darkest in all
+his great uncle&#8217;s stormy life. The hopes and work of years were shattered at a single blow, and he was an outcast with a price
+on his head.
+
+</p>
+<p>The homeless king knelt in the bottom of the <i>prau</i> and prayed for strength, and then took up the oars and pulled silently toward the ocean. Near morning he was abreast of one
+of the largest Suloo forts&#8212;the home of his bitterest and bravest foes.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb95" href="#pb95">95</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He turned the head of his boat to the shore and landed unarmed and undressed among the pirates. He surrendered his life, his
+throne, and his honor, into their keeping.
+
+</p>
+<p>They listened silently, and then their scarred old chief stepped forward and placed a naked <i>kris</i> in the white man&#8217;s hand and kissed his feet.
+
+</p>
+<p>Before the sun went down that day the White Rajah was on his throne again, and ten thousand grim, fierce Suloos were hunting
+the Chinese like a pack of bloodhounds.
+
+</p>
+<p>In 1848 Rajah Brooke decided to visit his old home in England, and ask his countrymen for teachers and missions. His fame
+had preceded him. All England was alive to his great deeds. There were greetings by enthusiastic crowds wherever he appeared,
+banquets by boards of trade, and gifts of freedom of cities. He was lodged in Balmoral Castle, knighted by the Queen, made
+Consul-General of Borneo, Governor of Labuan, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb96" href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>Doctor of Laws by Oxford, and was the lion of the hour.
+
+</p>
+<p>He returned to Sarawak, accompanied by European officers and friends, to carry on his great work of civilization, and to make
+of his little tropical kingdom a recognized power.
+
+</p>
+<p>He died in 1868, and was carried back to England for burial, and I predict that at no distant day a grateful people will rise
+up and ask of England his body, that it may be laid to rest in the yellow sands under the graceful palms of the unknown nation
+of which he was the Washington.
+
+</p>
+<p>His nephew, Sir Charles Brooke, who had also been his faithful companion for many years, succeeded him.
+
+</p>
+<p>Sarawak has to-day a coast-line of over four hundred miles, with an area of fifty thousand square miles, and a population
+of three hundred thousand souls. The country produces gold, silver, diamonds, antimony, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb97" href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>quicksilver, coal, gutta-percha, rubber, canes, rattan, camphor, beeswax, edible bird&#8217;s-nests, sago, tapioca, pepper, and
+tobacco, all of which find their way to Singapore, and thence to Europe and America.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Rajah is absolute head of the state; but he is advised by a legislative council composed of two Europeans and five native
+chiefs. He has a navy of a number of small but effective gunboats, and a well-trained and officered army of several hundred
+men, who look after the wild tribes of the interior of Borneo and guard the great coast-line from piratical excursions; otherwise
+they would be useless, as his rule is almost fatherly, and he is dearly beloved by his people.
+
+</p>
+<p>It is impossible in one short sketch to relate a tenth of the daring deeds and startling adventures of these two white rajahs.
+Their lives have been written in two bulky volumes, and the American boy who loves stories that rival his favorite authors
+of adventure <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb98" href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>will find them by going to the library and asking for the &#8220;Life of the Rajah of Sarawak.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>There is much in this &#8220;Life&#8221; that might be read by our statesmen and philanthropists with profit; for the building of a kingdom
+in a jungle of savage men and savage beasts places the name of Brooke of Borneo among those of the world&#8217;s great men, as it
+does among those of the heroes of adventure.
+
+</p>
+<p>One evening we were pacing back and forth on the deck of the Rajah&#8217;s magnificent gunboat, the <i>Rane&eacute;</i>. A soft tropical breeze was blowing off shore. Thousands of lights from running rickshas and bullock carts were dancing along
+the wide esplanade that separates the city of Singapore from the sea. The strange old-world cries from the natives came out
+to us in a babel of sound.
+
+</p>
+<p>Chinese in <i>sampans</i> and Malays in <i>praus</i> were gliding about our bows and back and forth between the great foreign men-of-war <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb99" href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>that overshadowed us. The Orient was on every hand, and I looked wonderingly at the slightly built, gray-haired man at my
+side, with a feeling that he had stepped from out some wild South Sea tale.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your Highness,&#8221; I said, as we chatted, &#8220;tell me how you made subjects out of pirates and head-hunters, when our great nation,
+with all its power and gold, has only been able after one hundred years to make paupers out of our Indians.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you see that man?&#8221; he replied, pointing to a stalwart, brown-faced Dyak, who in the blue and gold uniform of Sarawak was
+leaning idly against the bulwarks. &#8220;That is the Dato (Lord) Imaum, Judge of the Supreme Court of Sarawak. He was one of the
+most redoubtable of the Suloo pirates. My uncle fought him for eight years. In all that time he never broke his word in battle
+or in truce. When Sir James was driven from his throne by the Chinese, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb100" href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>the Dato Imaum fought to reinstate him as his master.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Civilization is only skin deep, and so is barbarism. Had your country never broken its word and been as just as it is powerful,
+your red men would have been to-day where our brown men are&#8212;our equals.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>An hour later I stepped into my launch, which was lying alongside. The American flag at the peak came down, and the guns of
+the <i>Rane&eacute;</i> belched forth the consular salute.
+
+</p>
+<p>I instinctively raised my hat as we glided over the phosphorescent waters of the harbor, for in my thoughts I was still in
+the presence of one of the great ones of the earth.
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb101" href="#pb101">101</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch7" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">Amok!</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">A Malayan Story</h2>
+<p>If you run amok in Malaya, you may perhaps kill your enemy or wound your dearest friend, but you may be certain that in the
+end you will be <i>krissed</i> like a pariah dog. Every man, woman, and child will turn his or her hand against you, from the mother who bore you to the
+outcast you have befriended. The laws are as immutable as fate.
+
+</p>
+<p>Just where the great river Maur empties its vast volume of red water across a shifting bar into the Straits of Malacca, stands
+the <i>kampong</i> of Bander Maharani.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Sultan Abubaker named the village in honor of his dead Sultana, and here, close down to the bank, was the palace of his
+nephew&#8212;the Governor, Prince Sulliman.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb102" href="#pb102">102</a>]</span></p>
+<p>A wide, red, well-paved road separated the village of thatch and grass from the palace grounds, and ended at a wharf, up to
+which a steam-launch would dash from time to time, startling the half-grown crocodiles that slept beneath the rickety timbers.
+
+</p>
+<p>Sometimes the little Prince Mat, the son of the Governor, came down to the wharf and played with the children of the captain
+of the launch, while his <i>Tuan Penager</i>, or Teacher, dozed beneath his yellow umbrella; and often, at their play, his Excellency would pause and watch them, smiling
+kindly.
+
+</p>
+<p>At such times, the captain of the launch would fall upon his face, and thank the Prophet that he had lived to see that day.
+&#8220;For,&#8221; he would say, &#8220;some day he may speak to me, and ask me for the wish I treasure.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Then he would go back to his work, polishing the brass on the railings of his boat, regardless of the watchful eyes that <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb103" href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>blinked at him from the mud beneath the wharf.
+
+</p>
+<p>He smiled contentedly, for his mind was made up. He would not ask to be made master of the Sultan&#8217;s marvellous yacht, that
+was sent out from Liverpool,&#8212;although the possibility made him catch his breath: he would ask nothing for himself,&#8212;he would
+ask that his Excellency let his son Noa go to Mecca, that he might become a <i>hadji</i> and then some day&#8212;who knows&#8212;Noa might become a <i>kateeb</i> in the <i>attap</i>-thatched mosque back of the palace.
+
+</p>
+<p>And Noa, unmindful of his father&#8217;s dreaming, played with the little Prince, kicking the <i>ragga</i> ball, or sailing miniature <i>praus</i> out into the river, and off toward the shimmering straits. But often they sat cross-legged and dropped bits of chicken and
+fruit between the palm sleepers of the wharf to the birch-colored crocodiles below, who snapped them up, one after another,
+never taking <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb104" href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>their small, cruel eyes off the brown faces that peered down at them.
+
+</p>
+<p>Child-life is measured by a few short years in Malaya. The hot, moist air and the fierce rays of the equatorial sun fall upon
+child and plant alike, and they grow so fast that you can almost hear them!
+
+</p>
+<p>The little Prince soon forgot his childhood companions in the gorgeous court of his Highness, the Sultan of Johore, and Noa
+took the place of his father on the launch, while the old man silently mourned as he leaned back in its stern, and alternately
+watched the sunlight that played along the carefully polished rails, and the deepening shadows that bound the black labyrinth
+of mangrove roots on the opposite shore. The Governor had never noted his repeated protestations and deep-drawn sighs.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But who cares,&#8221; he thought. &#8220;It is the will of Allah! The Prince will surely remember us when he returns.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb105" href="#pb105">105</a>]</span></p>
+<p>On the very edge of Bander Maharani, just where the almost endless miles of betel-nut palms shut from view the yellow turrets
+of the palace, stood the palm-thatched bungalow in which Anak grew, in a few short years, from childhood to womanhood. The
+hot, sandy soil all about was covered with the flaxen burs of the betel, and the little sunlight that found its way down through
+the green and yellow fronds drew rambling checks on the steaming earth, that reminded Anak of the plaid on the silken <i>sarong</i> that Noa&#8217;s father had given her the day she was betrothed to his son.
+
+</p>
+<p>Up the bamboo ladder and into the little door,&#8212;so low that even Anak, with her scant twelve years, was forced to stoop,&#8212;she
+would dart when she espied Noa coming sedately down the long aisle of palms that led away to the fungus-covered canal that
+separated her little world from the life of the capital city.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb106" href="#pb106">106</a>]</span></p>
+<p>There was coquetry in every glance, as she watched him, from behind the carved bars of her low window, drop contentedly down
+on the bench beneath a scarred old cocoanut that stood directly before the door. She thought almost angrily that he ought
+to have searched a little for her: she would have repaid him with her arms about his neck.
+
+</p>
+<p>From the cool darkness of the bungalow came the regular click of her mother&#8217;s loom. She could see the worker&#8217;s head surrounded
+by a faint halo of broken twilight. Her mind filled in the details that were hidden by the green shadows&#8212;the drawn, stooping
+figure, the scant black hair, the swollen gums, the <i>syrah</i>-stained teeth, and sunken neck. She impulsively ran her soft brown fingers over her own warm, plump face, through the luxuriant
+tresses of her heavy hair, and then gazed out at the recumbent figure on the bench, waiting patiently for her coming.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb107" href="#pb107">107</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Soon my teeth, which the American lady that was visiting his Excellency said were so strong and beautiful, will be filed
+and blackened, and I will be weaving <i>sarongs</i> for Noa.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>She shuddered, she knew not why, and went slowly across the elastic bamboo strips of the floor and down the ladder.
+
+</p>
+<p>Noa watched the trim little figure with its single covering of cotton, the straight, graceful body, and perfectly poised head
+and delicate neck, the bare feet and ankles, the sweet, comely face with its fresh young lips, free from the red stains of
+the <i>syrah</i> leaf, and its big brown eyes that looked from beneath heavy silken lashes. He smiled, but did not stir as she came to him.
+He was proud of her after the manner of his kind. Her beauty appealed to him unconsciously, although he had never been taught
+to consider beauty, or even seek it. He would have married her without a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb108" href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>question, if she had been as hideous as his sister, who was scarred with the small-pox. He would never have complained if,
+according to Malayan custom, he had not been permitted to have seen her until the marriage day. He must marry some one, now
+that the Prince had gone to Johore, and his father had given up all hope of seeing him a <i>hadji</i>; and besides, the captain of the launch and the old <i>punghulo</i>, or chief, Anak&#8217;s father, were fast friends. The marriage meant little more to the man.
+
+</p>
+<p>But to Anak,&#8212;once the Prince Mat had told her she was pretty, when she had come down to the wharf to beg a small crocodile
+to bury underneath her grandmother&#8217;s bungalow to keep off white ants, and her cheeks glowed yet under her brown skin at the
+remembrance. Noa had never told her she was beautiful!
+
+</p>
+<p>A featherless hen was scratching in the yellow sand at her feet, and a brood of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb109" href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>featherless chicks were following each cluck with an intensity of interest that left them no time to watch the actions of
+the lovers.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did you come?&#8221; she asked in the soft liquid accents of her people.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was an eagerness in the question that suggested its own answer.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;To bring a message to the <i>punghulo</i>,&#8221; he replied, not noticing the coquetry of the look.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! then you are in haste. Why do you wait? My father is at the canal.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is about you,&#8221; he went on, his face glowing. &#8220;The Prince is coming back, and we are to be married. My father, the captain,
+made bold to ask his Excellency to let the Prince be present, and he granted our prayer.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>She turned away to hide her disappointment. It was the thought of the honor that was his in the eyes of the province, and
+not that he was to marry her, that set the lights <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb110" href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>dancing in his eyes! She hated him then for his very love; it was so sure and confident in its right to overlook hers in this
+petty attention from a mere boy, who had once condescended to praise her girlish beauty.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;When is the Prince coming?&#8221; she questioned, ignoring his clumsy attempt to take her hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;During the feast of Hari Raya Hadji,&#8221; he replied, smiling.
+
+</p>
+<p>She kicked some sand with her bare toes, amongst the garrulous chickens.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell me about the Prince.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Her mood had changed. Her eyes were wide open, and her face all aglow. She was wondering if he would notice her above the
+bridesmaids,&#8212;if it was not for her sake he was coming?
+
+</p>
+<p>And then her lover told her of the gossip of the palace,&#8212;of the Prince&#8217;s life in the Sultan&#8217;s court,&#8212;of his wit and grace,&#8212;of
+how he had learned English, and was soon <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb111" href="#pb111">111</a>]</span>to go to London, where he would be entertained by the Queen.
+
+</p>
+<p>Above their heads the wind played with the tattered flags of the palms, leaving openings here and there that exposed the steely-white
+glare of the sky, and showed, far away to the northward, the denuded red dome of Mount Ophir.
+
+</p>
+<p>The girl noted the clusters of berries showing redly against the dark green of some pepper-vines that clambered up the black
+<i>nebong</i> posts of her home; she wondered vaguely as he talked if she were to go on through life seeing pepper-vines and betel-nut
+trees, and hot sand and featherless hens, and never get beyond the shadow of the mysterious mountains.
+
+</p>
+<p>Possibly it was the sight of the white ladies from Singapore, possibly it was the few light words dropped by the half-grown
+Prince, possibly it was something within herself,&#8212;something inherited from ancestors <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb112" href="#pb112">112</a>]</span>who had lived when the fleets of Solomon and Hiram sought for gold and ivory at the base of the distant mountains,&#8212;that drove
+her to revolt, and led her to question the right of this marriage that was to seal her forever to the <i>attap</i> bungalow, and the narrow, colorless life that awaited her on the banks of the Maur. She turned fiercely on her wooer, and
+her brown eyes flashed.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have never asked me whether I love!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The Malay half rose from his seat. The look of surprise and perplexity that had filled his face gave place to one of almost
+childish wonder.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course you love me. Is it not so written in the Koran,&#8212;a wife shall reverence her husband?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; she questioned angrily.
+
+</p>
+<p>He paused a moment, trying dimly to comprehend the question, and then answered slowly,&#8212;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb113" href="#pb113">113</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Because it is written.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>She did not draw away when he took her hand; he had chosen his answer better than he knew.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because it is written,&#8221; that was all. Her own feeble revolt was but as a breath of air among the yellow fronds above their
+heads.
+
+</p>
+<p>When Noa had gone, the girl drew herself wearily up the ladder, and dropped on a cool palm mat near the never ceasing loom.
+For almost the first time in her short, uneventful life she fell to thinking of herself. She wondered if the white ladies
+in Singapore married because all had been arranged by a father who forgot you the moment you disappeared within the door of
+your own house,&#8212;if they loved one man better than another,&#8212;if they could always marry the one they liked best. She wondered
+why every one must be married,&#8212;why could she not go on and live just as she had,&#8212;she could weave and sew?
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb114" href="#pb114">114</a>]</span></p>
+<p>A gray lizard darted from out its hiding-place in the <i>attap</i> at a great atlas moth which worked its brilliant wings; clumsily it tore their delicate network until the air was full of
+a golden dust.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am the moth,&#8221; she said softly, and raised her hand too late to save it from its enemy.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Sultan&#8217;s own yacht, the <i>Pante</i>, brought the Prince back to Maur, and as it was low tide, the Governor&#8217;s launch went out beyond the bar and met him.
+
+</p>
+<p>The band played the national anthem when he landed on the pier, and Inchi Mohammed, the Tuan Hakim, or Chief Justice, made
+a speech.
+
+</p>
+<p>The red gravel walk from the landing to the palace gate was strewn with hibiscus and alamander and yellow convolvulus flowers,
+and bordered with the delicate maidenhair fern.
+
+</p>
+<p>Johore and British flags hung in great <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb115" href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>festoons from the deep verandas of the palace, and the brass guns from the fort gave forth the royal salute.
+
+</p>
+<p>Anak was in the crowd with her father, the old chief, and her affianced, Noa. She had put on her silk <i>sarong</i> and <i>kabaya</i>, and some curious gold brooches that were her mother&#8217;s. In her coal-black hair she had stuck some sprays of the sweet-smelling
+<i>chumpaka</i> flower. On her slender bare feet were sandals cunningly wrought in colored beads. Her soft brown eyes glowed with excitement,
+and she edged away from the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> side until she stood close up in front, so near that she could almost touch the <i>sarong</i> of the Tuan Hakim as he read.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Prince had grown so since he left that she scarcely knew him, and save for the narrow silk <i>sarong</i> about his waist, he was dressed in the English clothes of a Lieutenant of his Highness&#8217;s artillery. In the front of his rimless
+cap shone the arms of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb116" href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>Johore set in diamonds, exactly as his father, the Governor, wore them. He paused and smiled as he thanked the cringing Tuan
+Hakim.
+
+</p>
+<p>The blood rushed to the girl&#8217;s cheeks, and she nearly fell down at his feet. She realized but dimly that Noa was plucking
+at her <i>kabaya</i>, wishing her to go with him to see the bungalow that his father was building for them.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The posts are to be of polished <i>nebong&#8221;</i> he was saying, &#8220;the wood-work of <i>maranti</i> wood from Pahang; and there is to be a cote, ever so cunningly woven of green and yellow bamboo, for your ring-doves, under
+the <i>attap</i> of the great eaves above the door.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>She turned wearily toward her lover, and the bright look faded from her comely face. With a half-uttered sigh she drew off
+her sandals and tucked them carefully beneath the silver zone that held her <i>sarong</i> in place.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anak,&#8221; he said softly, as they left the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb117" href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>hot, red streets, filled with lumbering bullock-carts and omnipresent <i>rickshas</i>, &#8220;why do you look away when I talk of our marriage? Is it because the Koran teaches modesty in woman, or is it because you
+are over-proud of your husband when you see him among other men?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>But the girl was not listening.
+
+</p>
+<p>He looked at her keenly, and as he saw the red blood mantle her cheek, he smiled and went on:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was good of you to wear the <i>sarong</i> I gave you, and your best <i>kabaya</i> and the flowers I like in your hair. I heard more than one say that it showed you would make a good wife in spite of our
+knowing one another before marriage.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think that it was for you that I put on all this bravery?&#8221; she asked, looking him straight in the face. &#8220;Am I not to
+be your wife? Can I not dress in honor of the young Prince and&#8212;Allah?&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb118" href="#pb118">118</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He turned to stammer a reply. The hot blood mounted to his temples, and he grasped the girl&#8217;s arm so that she cried out with
+pain.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are to be my wife, and I your master. It is my wish that you should ever dress in honor of our rulers and our Allah,
+for in showing honor to those above you, you honor your husband. I do not understand you at all times, but I intend that you
+shall understand me. <i>Sudah!</i>&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Tuan Allah Suka!</i>&#8221; (The Lord Allah has willed it), she murmured, and they plodded on through the hot sand in silence.
+
+</p>
+<p>After his return they saw the Prince often, and once when Anak came down to the wharf to bring a <i>durian</i> to the captain of the launch from her father, the old <i>punghulo</i>, she met him face to face, and he touched her cheek with his jewelled fingers, and said she had grown much prettier since
+he left.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb119" href="#pb119">119</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Noa was not angry at the Prince, rather he was proud of his notice, but a sinister light burned in his eyes as he saw the
+flushed face and drooping head of the girl.
+
+</p>
+<p>And once the Prince passed by the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> home on his way into the jungle in search of a tiger, and inquired for his daughter. Anak treasured the remembrance of these
+little attentions, and pondered over them day after day, as she worked by her mother&#8217;s side at the loom, or sat outside in
+the sand, picking the flossy burs from the betel-nuts, watching the flickering shadows that every breeze in the leaves above
+scattered in prodigal wastefulness about and over her.
+
+</p>
+<p>She told herself over and over, as she followed with dreamy eyes the vain endeavors of a chameleon to change his color, as
+the shadows painted the sand beneath him first green and then white, that her own <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb120" href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>hopes and strivings were just as futile; and yet when Noa would sit beside her and try to take her hand, she would fly into
+a passion, and run sobbing up the ladder of her home. Noa became moody in turn. His father saw it and his mates chaffed him,
+but no one guessed the cause. That it should be for the sake of a woman would have been beyond belief; for did not the Koran
+say, &#8220;If thy wife displease thee, beat her until she see the sin of her ways&#8221;? One day, as he thought, it occurred to him,
+&#8220;She does not want to marry me!&#8221; and he asked her, as though it made any difference. There were tears in her eyes, but she
+only threw back her head and laughed, and replied as she should:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is no concern of ours. Is your father, the captain, displeased with my father&#8217;s, the <i>punghulo&#8217;s,</i> dowry?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>And yet Noa felt that Anak knew what he would have said.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb121" href="#pb121">121</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He went away angry, but with a gnawing at his heart that frightened him,&#8212;a strange, new sickness, that seemed to drive him
+from despair to a longing for revenge, with the coming and going of each quick breath. He had been trying to make love in
+a blind, stumbling way; he did not know it,&#8212;why should he? Marriage was but a bargain in Malaya. But Anak with her finer instincts
+felt it, and instead of fanning this tiny, unknown spark, she was driving it into other and baser channels.
+
+</p>
+<p>In spite of her better nature she was slowly making a demon out of a lover,&#8212;a lover to whom but a few months before she would
+have given freely all her love for a smile or the lightest of compliments.
+
+</p>
+<p>From that day until the day of the marriage she never spoke to her lover save in the presence of her elders,&#8212;for such was
+the law of her race.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb122" href="#pb122">122</a>]</span></p>
+<p>She submitted to the tire-women who were to prepare her for the ceremony, uttering no protest as they filed off her beautiful
+white teeth and blackened them with lime, nor when they painted the palms of her hands and the nails of her fingers and toes
+red with <i>henna</i>. She showed no interest in the arranging of her glossy black hair with jewelled pins and <i>chumpaka</i> flowers, or in the draping of her <i>sarong</i> and <i>kabaya</i>. Only her lacerated gums ached until one tear after another forced its way from between her blackened lids down her rouged
+cheeks.
+
+</p>
+<p>There had been feasting all day outside under the palms, and the youths, her many cousins, had kicked the <i>ragga</i> ball, while the elders sat about and watched and talked and chewed betel-nut. There were great rice curries on brass plates,
+with forty <i>sambuls</i>&gt; within easy reach of all, luscious mangosteens, creamy <i>durians</i> and mangoes, and betel-nuts with lemon leaves and lime and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb123" href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>spices. Fires burned about among the graceful palms at night, and lit up the silken <i>sarongs</i> and polished <i>kris</i> handles of the men, and gold-run <i>kabayas</i> of the women.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Prince came as he promised, just as the old Kadi had pronounced the couple man and wife, and laid at Anak&#8217;s feet a wide
+gold bracelet set with sapphires, and engraven with the arms of Johore. He dropped his eyes to conceal the look of pity and
+abhorrence that her swollen gums and disfigured features inspired, and as he passed across the mats on the bamboo floor he
+inwardly cursed the customs of his people that destroyed the beauty of its women. He had lived among the English of Singapore,
+and dined at the English Governor&#8217;s table.
+
+</p>
+<p>A groan escaped the girl&#8217;s lips as she dropped back among the cushions of her tinsel throne. Noa saw the little tragedy, and
+for the first time understood its full <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb124" href="#pb124">124</a>]</span>import. He ground his teeth together, and his hand worked uneasily along the scabbard of his <i>kris</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>In another moment the room was empty, and the bride and groom were left side by side on the gaudily bedecked platform, to
+mix and partake of their first betel-nut together. Mechanically Noa picked the broken fragments of the nut from its brass
+cup, from another a <i>syrah</i> leaf smeared with lime, added a clove, a cardamom, and a scraping of mace, and handed it to his bride. She took it without
+raising her eyes, and placed it against her bleeding gums. In a moment a bright red juice oozed from between her lips and
+ran down the corner of her distorted mouth. Noa extended his hand, and she gave him the half-masticated mass. He raised it
+to his own mouth, and then for the first time looked the girl full in the face.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was no love-light in the drooping <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb125" href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>brown eyes before him. The <i>syrah</i>-stained lips were slightly parted, exposing the feverish gums, and short, black teeth. Her hands hung listlessly by her side,
+and only for the color that came and went beneath the rouge of her brown cheeks, she might have been dead to this last sacred
+act of their marriage vows.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anak!&#8221; he said slowly, drawing closer to her side. &#8220;Anak, I will be a true husband to you. You shall be my only wife&#8212;&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He paused, expecting some response, but she only gazed stolidly up at the smoke-begrimed <i>attap</i> of the roof.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anak&#8212;&#8221; he repeated, and then a shudder passed through him, and his eyes lit up with a wild, frenzied gleam,
+
+</p>
+<p>A moment he paused irresolute, and then with a spring he grasped the golden handle of his <i>kris</i> and with one bound was across the floor, and on the sand below among the revellers.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb126" href="#pb126">126</a>]</span></p>
+<p>For an instant the snake-like blade of the <i>kris</i> shone dully in the firelight above his head, and then with a yell that echoed far out among the palms, it descended straight
+into the heart of the nearest Malay.
+
+</p>
+<p>The hot life-blood spurted out over his hand and naked arm, and dyed the creamy silk of his wedding <i>baju</i> a dark red.
+
+</p>
+<p>Once more he struck, as he chanted a promise from the Koran, and the shrill, agonized cry of a woman broke upon the ears of
+the astonished guests.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then the fierce sinister yell of &#8220;Amok! amok!&#8221; drowned the woman&#8217;s moans, and sent every Malay&#8217;s hand to the handle of his
+<i>kris</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Amok!&#8221; sprang from every man&#8217;s lips, while women and children, and those too aged to take part in the wild saturnalia of
+blood that was to follow, scattered like doves before a hawk.
+
+</p>
+<p>With the rapidity of a Malayan tiger, the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb127" href="#pb127">127</a>]</span>crazed man leaped from one to another, dealing deadly strokes with his merciless weapon, right and left. There was no gleam
+of pity or recognition in his insane glance when he struck down the sister he had played with from childhood, neither did
+he note that his father&#8217;s hand had dealt the blow that dropped his right arm helpless to his side. Only a cry of baffled rage
+and hate escaped his lips, as he snatched his falling knife with his left hand. Another blow, and his father fell across the
+quivering body of his sister.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O Allah, the all-merciful and loving kind!&#8221; he sang, as the blows rained upon his face and breast. &#8220;O Allah, the compassionate.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The golden handle of his <i>kris</i> shone like a dying coal in the centre of a circle of flamelike knives; then with one wild plunge forward, into the midst
+of the gleaming points, it went out.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb128" href="#pb128">128</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Sudah!</i>&#8212;It is finished,&#8221; and a Malay raised his steel-bladed <i>limbing</i> to thrust it into the bare breast of the dying man.
+
+</p>
+<p>The young Prince stepped out into the firelight and raised his hand. The long, shrill wail of a tiger from far off toward
+Mount Ophir seemed to pulsate and quiver on the weird stillness of the night.
+
+</p>
+<p>Noa opened his eyes. They were the eyes of a child, and a faint, sweet smile flickered across the ghastly features and died
+away in a spasm of pain.
+
+</p>
+<p>A picture of their childhood days flashed through the mind of the Prince and softened the haughty lines of his young face.
+He saw, through it all, the wharf below the palace grounds,&#8212;the fat old <i>penager</i> dozing in the sun,&#8212;the raft they built together, and the birch-colored crocodiles that lay among the sinuous mangrove roots.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Noa,&#8221; he whispered, as he imperiously motioned the crowd back.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb129" href="#pb129">129</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The dying man&#8217;s lips moved. The Prince bent lower.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8212;loved&#8212;you. Yes&#8212;&#8221; Noa muttered, striving to hold his failing breath,&#8212;&#8220;love is from&#8212;Allah. But not for&#8212;me;&#8212;for English&#8212;and&#8212;Princes.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>They threw his body without the circle of the fires.
+
+</p>
+<p>The tense feline growl of the tiger grew more distinct. The Prince&#8217;s hand sought the jewelled handle of his <i>kris</i>. There was a swift rush in the darkness, a crashing among the rubber-vines, a short, quick snarl, and then all was still.
+
+</p>
+<p>If you run amok in Malaya, you may kill your enemy or your dearest friend, but you will be <i>krissed</i> in the end like a pariah dog. Every man, woman, and child will turn his hand against you, from the mother who bore you to
+the outcast you have befriended.
+
+</p>
+<p>The laws are as immutable as fate.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb130" href="#pb130">130</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch8" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">Lepas&#8217;s Revenge</h2>
+<h2 class="normal">The Tale of a Monkey</h2>
+<p>There were many monkeys&#8212;I came near saying there were hundreds&#8212;in the little clump of jungle trees back of the bungalow. We
+could lie in our long chairs, any afternoon, when the sun was on the opposite side of the house, and watch them from behind
+the bamboo &#8220;chicks&#8221; swinging and playing in the maze of rubber-vines.
+
+</p>
+<p>They played tag and high-spy, and a variety of other games. When they were tired of playing, they fell to quarrelling, scolding,
+and chasing each other among the stiff, varnished leaves, making so much noise that I could not get my afternoon nap, and
+often had to call to the <i>syce</i> to throw a stone into the branches. Then they would scuttle away to the topmost parts of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb131" href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>the great trees and there join in giving me a rating that ought to have made me ashamed forever to look another monkey in
+the face.
+
+</p>
+<p>One day, I went out and threw a stick at them myself, and the next day I found my shoes, which the Chinese &#8220;boy&#8221; had pipe-clayed
+and put out in the sun to dry, missing; and the day after I found the netting of my mosquito house torn from top to bottom.
+
+</p>
+<p>So I was not in the best of humors when I was awakened, one afternoon, by the whistling of a monkey close to my chair. I reached
+out quickly for my cork helmet which I had thrown down by my side. As it was there, I looked up in surprise to see what had
+become of my visitor.
+
+</p>
+<p>There he sat up against the railing of the veranda with his legs cramped up under him, ready to flee if I made a threatening
+gesture. His face was turned toward me, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb132" href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>with the thin, hairless skin of its upper lip drawn back, showing a perfect row of milk-white teeth that were chattering in
+deadly terror. The whole expression of his face was one of conciliation and entreaty.
+
+</p>
+<p>I knew that it was all make-believe, so I half closed my eyes and did not move. The chattering stopped. The little fellow
+looked about curiously, drew his mouth up into a pucker, whistled once or twice to make sure I was not awake, and reached
+out his bony arm for a few crumbs of cake that had fallen near.
+
+</p>
+<p>He was not more than a foot in height. His diminutive body seemed to have been fitted into a badly worn skin that was two
+sizes too large for him, and the scalp of his forehead moved about like an overgrown wig.
+
+</p>
+<p>He was the most ordinary kind of gray, jungle monkey, not even a <i>wah-wah</i> or spider face.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb133" href="#pb133">133</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; I said, after we had thoroughly inspected each other, &#8220;where are my shoes?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Like a flash the whistling ceased, and with a pathetic trembling of his thin upper lip he commenced to beg with his mouth,
+and to put up his homely little hands in mute appeal.
+
+</p>
+<p>For a moment I feared he would go into convulsions, but I soon discovered that my sympathy, had been wasted.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then I noticed, for the first time, that there was a leather strap around his body just in front of his back legs, and that
+a string was attached to it, which ran through the railings and off the veranda. I looked over, and there, squatting on his
+sandalled feet, was a Malay, with the other end of the string in his hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>He arose, smiling, touched his forehead with the back of his brown palm, and asked blandly:&#8212;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb134" href="#pb134">134</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan, want to buy?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The calm assurance of the man amused me.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What, that miserable little monkey?&#8221; I said. &#8220;Do you take me for a tourist? Look up in those trees and you will see monkeys
+that know boiled rice from <i>padi</i>.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The man grinned and showed his brilliantly red teeth and gums.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan see. This monkey very wise,&#8221; and he made a motion with his stick. The little fellow sprang from the railing to his bare
+head, and sat holding on to his long black hair.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;See, Tuan,&#8221; and he made another motion, and the monkey leaped to the ground and commenced to run around his master, hopping
+first on one foot and then on the other, raising his arms over his head like a ballet dancer. After every revolution he would
+stop and turn a handspring.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Malay all the time kept up a droning <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb135" href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>kind of a song in his native tongue, improvising as he went along.
+
+</p>
+<p>The tenor of it was that one Hamat, a poor Malay, but a good Mohammedan, who had never been to Mecca, wanted to go to become
+a Hadji. He had no money but he had a good monkey that was very dear to him. He had found it in a distant jungle, beyond Johore,
+when a little baby; had brought it up like one of his own children and had taught it to dance and salaam.
+
+</p>
+<p>Now he must sell the monkey to the great Tuan, or Lord, that the money might help take him to Mecca. The monkey must dance
+well and please the mighty Tuan.
+
+</p>
+<p>As the little fellow danced, he kept one eye on me as though he understood it all.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How old is he?&#8221; I asked, becoming interested.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just as old as your Excellency would like,&#8221; he replied, bowing.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb136" href="#pb136">136</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Is he a year old?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;If the Tuan please.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, how much do you want for him?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What your Excellency can give.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Twenty-five dollars?&#8221; I asked.
+
+</p>
+<p>His face lit up from chin to forehead. He hitched nervously at the folds of his <i>sarong</i>, and changed the quid of red betel-nut from one corner of his mouth to the other.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here, Hamat,&#8221; I said, laughing, &#8220;here is five dollars; take it; when you come back from Mecca with a green turban come and
+see me. If I am sick of the monkey, you can have him back.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>So commenced our acquaintance with Lepas. We got into the habit of calling him Lepas, because it was the Malay for &#8220;let go,&#8221;
+which definition we broadened until it became a term of correction for every form of mischief. He was such a restless, active
+little imp, with hands into everything and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb137" href="#pb137">137</a>]</span>upon everything, that it was &#8220;Lepas!&#8221; from morning to night.
+
+</p>
+<p>He soon learned the word&#8217;s twofold meaning. If we said &#8220;Lepas&#8221; sternly, he subsided at once; but when we called it pleasantly
+he came running across the room and leaped into our laps.
+
+</p>
+<p>It did not take Lepas as long to forget his former master as it did to forget his former habits. In truth, his civilization
+was never more than skin deep.
+
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p136.jpg" alt="Just a gray, jungle monkey" width="465" height="720"><p class="figureHead">Just a gray, jungle monkey</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lepas would sit for hours cuddled up in the mistress&#8217;s lap&#8221;</p>
+</div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<p>He would sit for hours cuddled up in the mistress&#8217;s lap, playing with her work and making deft slaps at passing flies, until
+he had thoroughly convinced her of his perfect trustworthiness. Then, the moment her back was turned, he would slip away to
+her bureau, and such a mess as he would make of her ribbons and laces!
+
+</p>
+<p>I think he liked the servants better than he did us. He would dance and turn handsprings and salaam for them, but never for
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb138" href="#pb138">138</a>]</span>the mistress or myself. Such tricks, he seemed to think, were beneath his new position in society.
+
+</p>
+<p>He had a standing grudge against me, however, for insisting on his bath in the big Shanghai jar every day, and took delight
+in rolling in the red dust of the road the moment he was through.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was not long before he had a feud with the monkeys in the trees, back of the house. He would stand on the ground, within
+easy reach of the house, and as saucily as you please, till they were worked up into a white heat of rage over his remarks.
+
+</p>
+<p>Once he caught a baby monkey that had become entangled in the wiry <i>lallang</i> grass under the trees, and dragged it screeching into the house. Before we could get to him he had nearly drowned it by treating
+it to a bath,&#8212;an act, I suppose, intended to convey to me his opinion of my humane efforts to keep him clean.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb139" href="#pb139">139</a>]</span></p>
+<p>I expected as a matter of course to lose another pair of shoes or something, in payment for this unneighborly behavior, but
+the colony in the trees seemed to know that I was innocent. It was not long before they caught the true culprit, and gave
+him such a beating that he was quiet and subdued for days.
+
+</p>
+<p>But Lepas was a lovable little fellow with all his mischief. Every afternoon when I came home from the office, tired out with
+the heat and the fierce glare of the sun, he would hop over to my chair, whistle soothingly, and make funny little chirrups
+with his lips, until I noticed him.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then he would crawl quietly up the legs of the chair until he reached my shoulder, where he would commence with his cool little
+fingers to inspect my eyes and nose, and to pick over carefully each hair of my mustache and head.
+
+</p>
+<p>So we forgave him when he pulled all the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb140" href="#pb140">140</a>]</span>feathers out of a ring-dove that was a valued present from an old native rajah; when he turned lamp-oil into the ice cream,
+and when he broke a rare Satsuma bowl in trying to catch a lizard. He was always so penitent after each misadventure!
+
+</p>
+<p>We had heard that Hamat had sailed for Jedda with a shipload of pilgrims and were therefore expecting him back soon; but we
+had decided not to give up Lepas. He had become a sort of necessity about the house.
+
+</p>
+<p>Next door to us, lived a high official of the English service. He was a sour, cross old man and did not like pets. Even the
+monkeys in the trees knew better than to go into his &#8220;compound,&#8221; or inclosure.
+
+</p>
+<p>But Lepas started off on a voyage of discovery one day, and not only invaded his compound, but actually entered his house.
+The official caught him in the act of hiding his shaving-set between the palm thatch of the roof and the cheese-cloth ceiling.
+Recognizing <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb141" href="#pb141">141</a>]</span>Lepas, he did not kill him, but took him by his leathern girdle and soused him in his bath-tub, until he was so near dead
+that it took him hours to crawl home.
+
+</p>
+<p>Lepas went around with a sad, injured expression on his wrinkled little face, for days. Not even a mangosteen sprinkled with
+sugar could awaken his enthusiasm.
+
+</p>
+<p>He went so far as to make up with the monkeys in the trees, and once or twice I caught him condescending to have a game of
+leap-frog with them. I made up my mind that he had determined to turn over a new leaf, but the <i>syce</i> shook his head knowingly and said:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lepas all the time thinking. He thinks bad things.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>And so it proved.
+
+</p>
+<p>One night the mistress gave a very big dinner party. The high official from next door was there. So were several other high
+officials of Singapore, the general commanding <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb142" href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>her Majesty&#8217;s troops, and the foreign consuls and members of Legislative Council.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was a hot night, and the <i>punkah-wallah</i> outside kept the <i>punkah</i>, or mechanical fan, switching back and forth over our heads with a rapidity that made us fear its ropes would break, as very
+often happened.
+
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly there was a crash, and a champagne glass struck squarely in the high official&#8217;s soup and spattered it all over his
+white expanse of shirt front. We all looked up at the <i>punkah</i>. At the same instant a big, soft mango smashed in the high official&#8217;s face and changed its ruddy red color to a sickly yellow.
+
+</p>
+<p>The women screamed, and the men jumped up from the table. Then began a regular fusillade of wine glasses and tropical fruits.
+
+</p>
+<p>Sometimes they hit the high official from next door, at whom they all seemed to be aimed, but more often they fell upon the
+table, among the glass and dishes. In <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb143" href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>a moment everything was in wild confusion, and the mistress&#8217;s beautifully decorated table looked as though a bomb had exploded
+on it.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Chinese &#8220;boys&#8221; made a rush for the end of the room, and there, up on the sideboard, among the glass, pelting his enemy,
+the high official, as fast as he could throw, was Lepas.
+
+</p>
+<p>A finger bowl struck the butler full in the face, and gave the monkey time to make his escape out into the darkness through
+the wide-open doors.
+
+</p>
+<p>We saw nothing more of Lepas for a week or more; we had, indeed, about given him up, wondering as to his whereabouts, when
+one afternoon, as I was taking my usual post-tiffin siesta on the cool side of the great, wide-spreading veranda, I heard
+a timid whistle, and looked up to see Lepas seated on the railing, as sad and humble as any truant schoolboy.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb144" href="#pb144">144</a>]</span></p>
+<p>His hair was matted and faded and his face was dirty. His form had lost some of the plumpness that had come to it with good
+living, but there was the same wicked twinkle in his eyes, and the same hypocritical deceit in his bearing as of old.
+
+</p>
+<p>I reached out my hand to take him, but he hopped a few feet away and began to beg with his teeth.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lepas,&#8221; I said, &#8220;you have a bad heart. I wash my hands of you. When Hamat comes back you can go to him and be an ordinary,
+low caste monkey. Now go! I never want to see you again!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Lepas puckered up his lips and whistled mournfully for a few moments, but seeing no sign of forgiveness in my face he jumped
+down and began to turn handsprings and dance with the most demure grace.
+
+</p>
+<p>I took no notice of him, and after a few vain efforts to attract my attention, he hopped dejectedly off the veranda across
+the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb145" href="#pb145">145</a>]</span>lawn, and disappeared among the <i>timboso</i> trees and rubber-vines.
+
+</p>
+<p>Two weeks later Hamat returned from Mecca. He paid me a visit in state&#8212;white robe and green turban. I shook hands and called
+him by his new title of nobility, Tuan Hadji, but he did not refer to Lepas.
+
+</p>
+<p>Before many minutes he commenced to look wistfully about. I pointed to the trees back of the house. He went out under them
+and called two or three times.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was a great chattering among the rubber-vines, and in a moment down came Lepas and sprang to his old master&#8217;s shoulder
+as happy as a lover.
+
+</p>
+<p>I never saw Lepas but once again, and that was one evening on the ocean esplanade. He was in the centre of an admiring circle
+of half-nude Malay and Hindu boys, going through his quaint antics, while Hamat squatted before him beating on a crocodile-hide
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb146" href="#pb146">146</a>]</span>drum and singing a plaintive, monotonous song.
+
+</p>
+<p>When it was finished, Lepas took an empty cocoanut shell and went out into the crowd to collect pennies.
+
+</p>
+<p>I threw in a dollar. Lepas salaamed low as he snatched it out and bit it to test its genuineness. It was his latest accomplishment.
+Then he hid himself among the laughing crowd.
+
+</p>
+<p>That Lepas knew me, I could tell by the droop in his eye and the quick glance he gave to the right and left, to see if there
+was room to escape in case I made an effort to avenge my wrongs.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had no desire, however, to renew the acquaintance, and was quite willing to let by-gones be by-gones.
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb147" href="#pb147">147</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch9" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">King Solomon&#8217;s Mines</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">Being an Account of an Ascent of Mount Ophir in Malaya, by His Excellency, the Tuan Hakim of Maur, and the Writer</h2>
+<div class="epigraph">
+<p>&#8220;And they came to Ophir, and fetched from thence gold, four hundred and twenty talents, and brought it to King Solomon.&#8221;&#8212;<span class="smallcaps">1 Kings IX.</span> 28.
+
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;For the King&#8217;s ships went to Tarshish with the servants of Huram; every three years once came the ships of Tarshish, bringing
+gold and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks.&#8221;&#8212;<span class="smallcaps">2 Chronicles VIII.</span> 21.
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<p>The rose tints of a tropical sunrise had broken through the heavy bamboo <i>chicks</i> that jealously guarded the rapidly fleeting half-lights of my room: there came three deferential taps at the door, and the
+smiling, olive-tinted face of Ah Minga appeared at the opening. &#8220;<i>Tabek</i>, Tuan,&#8221; he saluted, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb148" href="#pb148">148</a>]</span>as he raised the mosquito curtains, and placed a tray of tea and mangosteens on a table by my side.
+
+</p>
+<p>I sprang to the floor and across the heavily rugged room, and pulled up the offending <i>chick</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>Across the palace grounds, fresh from their morning bath, across the broad river Maur, for the nonce black in the shadow of
+the jungle, across the gilded tops of the jungle, forty miles away as the crow flies, rested the serrated peak of Mount Ophir.
+
+</p>
+<p>Directly below me, a soldier in a uniform of duck and a rimless cap with a gold band was pacing up and down the gravelled
+walk. A little farther on a bevy of women and children were bathing in the tepid waters of the river, while a man in an unpainted
+<i>prau</i> was keeping watch for a possible crocodile.
+
+</p>
+<p>The sun was rising directly behind the peak, a ball of liquid fire. I drew in a long draught of the warm morning air.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb149" href="#pb149">149</a>]</span></p>
+<p>A Malay in a soft silken <i>sarong</i>, which fell about his legs like a woman&#8217;s skirt, stood in the door.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Prince is awaiting the Tuan Consul,&#8221; he said, with a graceful salaam.
+
+</p>
+<p>I hurriedly donned my suit of white, drank my tea, and followed him along the grand salon, down a broad flight of steps, through
+a marble court, and into the dining room.
+
+</p>
+<p>A great white <i>punkah</i> was lazily vibrating over the heavy rosewood table.
+
+</p>
+<p>Unko Sulliman, the Prince Governor of Maur, came forward and gave me his hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It will be a hard climb and a hard day&#8217;s work?&#8221; he said, pleasantly, in good English.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have done worse,&#8221; I answered.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But not under a Malayan sky. However, it is your wish, and his Highness the Sultan has granted it. The Chief Justice will
+accompany you, and now you had better start before the sun is high.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb150" href="#pb150">150</a>]</span></p>
+<p>I turned to the Tuan Hakim, or Chief Justice, with a gesture of unconcealed pleasure. We had shot crocodiles the day previous
+along the banks of the Maur, and I had found him a good shot and an agreeable companion. While not as handsome a man or as
+striking a representative of his race as the Unko, or Prince, he was a scholar, and could aid me more than any one else in
+my exploration of the ancient gold workings about the base of the famous mountain.
+
+</p>
+<p>The launch was awaiting us at the pier in front of the Residency, and we took our places in the bow, and arranged our guns
+as our half-naked crew worked her slowly into mid-stream. We hoped to get some snap shots at the crocodiles that lined the
+banks as we steamed swiftly up the river.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am inclined to agree with Josephus, that yonder mountain is the Mount Ophir of Solomon, when I look at this river. It is
+equal to our Hudson, and could easily <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb151" href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>carry ships twice the size of any he or Huram ever floated.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The Tuan Hakim nodded, and kept his eyes fastened on the nearest shore.
+
+</p>
+<p>The course of the great river seemed to stretch out before us in an endless line of majestic circles. From shore to shore,
+at high tide, it was a mile in breadth, and so deep that his Highness&#8217;s yacht, the <i>Pante</i>, of three hundred tons&#8217; burden, could run up full fifty miles.
+
+</p>
+<p>For a moment we caught a view of the wooden minarets of the little mosque at Bander Maharani; then we dashed on into the heart
+of another great curve.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it your Koran says that the wise king&#8217;s ships brought from Ophir?&#8221; he asked, never taking his eyes off the mangrove-bound
+shore.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gold and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks,&#8221; I replied, quoting literally from Chronicles.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb152" href="#pb152">152</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Biak</i> (good)! Gold and silver we have plenty. Your English companies are taking it out of the land by the <i>pikul</i> In the old days, before the Portuguese came, the handle of every warrior&#8217;s <i>kris</i> was of ivory. Now our elephants are dying before the rifle of the sportsman. Soon our jungles will know them no more. Apes&#8212;&#8221;
+and he pointed at the top of a giant <i>marbow</i>, where a troop of silver <i>wah-wahs</i> were swinging from limb to limb. &#8220;The glorious argus pheasant you have seen.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Boyah</i>, Tuan!&#8221; the man at the wheel sung out.
+
+</p>
+<p>I grasped my Winchester Express. Just ahead, half hidden by a black labyrinth of scaffold-like mangrove roots, lay the huge,
+mud-covered form of a crocodile.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Tuan Hakim raised his hand, and the launch slowed down and ran in under the bank.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now!&#8221; he whispered, and our rifles exploded in unison.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb153" href="#pb153">153</a>]</span></p>
+<p>A great splash of slimy red mud fell full on the front of my spotless white jacket, another struck in the water close by the
+side of the boat. The wounded crocodile had sprung into the air from his tail up, and dropped back into his wallow with a
+resounding thud. In another instant he was off the slippery bank and within the security of the mud-colored water.
+
+</p>
+<p>I saw that my companion had more to tell me, possibly a native tradition of the fabled riches that were concealed within the
+heart of the historic mountain that was for the moment framed in a setting of green, directly ahead. I put a fresh cartridge
+into the barrel, and leaned back in my deck chair.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Chief Justice extracted a manila from his case and handed it to me.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the days when Tunku Ali III. ruled over Maur, from Malacca to the confines of Johore, the Portuguese came, and Albuquerque
+with his ships of war and soldiers <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb154" href="#pb154">154</a>]</span>in iron armor sought to wrest from our people their cities and their riches. My ancestor was a <i>dato</i>,&#8212;our <i>laksamana</i>, high admiral, of his Highness&#8217;s fleet. His galley was built of burnished teak, the lining of its cabin was of sandalwood,&#8212;algum
+wood your Koran calls it,&#8212;and the turret in its stern was covered with plates of solid gold. You will find record of it to
+this day in the state papers of Acheen.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;For fully a hundred and forty years did the Emperor of Johore and his valiant allies, the King of Acheen and the Sultan of
+Maur, seek to retake Malacca from the Portuguese. The Dato Mamat was the last <i>laksamana</i> of the fleet. With him died the war and the secret of Mount Ophir.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The secret!&#8221; I questioned, as the Tuan Hakim paused.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;For one hundred and forty years were we at war with the invaders. Three generations were born and died with arms in their
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb155" href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>hands. No work was done on the land, save by women and children. Still we had plenty of gold with which to fit out fleet after
+fleet, with which to arm our soldiers and feed our people.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It came from yonder mountain. Not even the Sultan knew its hiding-place. <i>That</i> was only trusted to one family, and handed from father to son by word of mouth.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Long before the days of Solomon the Wise did my family hold that secret for the state. It was one of them that gave the four
+hundred and twenty talents to the <i>laksamana</i> of Huram&#8217;s fleet. Your Koran has made record of the gift. He did not know from whence it came. He asked, and we told him
+from the <i>Ophirs</i>, which means from the gold mines. Then it was that he called the mountain that raised its head four thousand feet above the
+sea, and was the first object his lookout saw as they neared the coast, &#8216;Mount Ophir.&#8217;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb156" href="#pb156">156</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No man, however so bold, ventured within a radius of fifteen miles around the foot of the mountain. It was haunted by evil
+spirits. No man save the <i>laksamana</i>, who went twice a year and brought away to his <i>prau</i>, which was moored on the bank of the Maur thirty miles from the mountains, ten great loads of pure gold, each time over one
+hundred <i>bugels</i>. I know not as to the truth, but it is told that there was one tribe consecrated to the mining of the gold, not one of whom
+had ever been outside the shadow of the mountain: that when the great admiral ceased to come, they blocked up the entrance
+to the mines, planted trees about the spot, and waited. One after another died, until not one was left.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Such is the tradition of my family, Tuan.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the great <i>laksamana</i>?&#8221; I asked. &#8220;I know of the ancient riches of Malacca. Barbosa tells us that gold was so common <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb157" href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>that it was reckoned by the <i>bhar</i> of four hundred weight.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>My companion contemplated the end of his manila. &#8220;Do you know how died his Highness, Montezuma of Mexico, Tuan?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I bowed.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So died my ancestor one hundred years later. I will tell you of it, that you may write his name in your histories by the
+side of the name of the murdered Sultan of Mexico.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The eyes of the little man flashed, and he looked squarely into mine for the first time. Possibly he may have detected a smile
+on my face, at the thought of placing this leader of a band of pirates side by side in history with the once ruler of the
+richest empire in the New World, for he paused in the midst of his narrative and said rapidly:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Must I tell you what your own writers tell of the rulers of our country, to make <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb158" href="#pb158">158</a>]</span>you credit my tale? It is all here,&#8221; he said, pointing to his head. &#8220;Everything that relates to my home I know. King Emmanuel
+of Portugal wrote to his High Kadi at Rome, that his general, the cruel Albuquerque, had sailed to the Aurea Chersonese, called
+by the natives Malacca, and found an enormous city of twenty-five thousand houses, that abounded in spices, gold, pearls,
+and precious stones. Was Montezuma&#8217;s capital greater?&#8221; he triumphantly asked.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was as great then as Singapore is today. Albuquerque captured it, and built a fortress at the mouth of the river, making
+the walls fifteen feet thick, all from the ruins of our mosques. This was in 1513.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me,&#8221; I said hastily, &#8220;if I have seemed to cast doubt on the relative importance of your country.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>There was a Malay <i>kampong</i>, or village, to our right. Under the heavy green and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb159" href="#pb159">159</a>]</span>yellow fronds of a cocoanut grove were a half-dozen picturesque palm-thatched houses. They were built up on posts six feet
+from the ground, and a dozen men and children scampered down their rickety ladders, as a shrill blast from our whistle aroused
+them from their slumbers. Pressed against the wooden bars of their low, narrow windows, we could make out the comely, brown
+faces of the women. The <i>punghulo</i>, or chief, walked sedately out to the beach, and touched his forehead to the ground as he recognized his superior. The sunlight
+broke through the enwrapping cocoanuts, and brought out dazzling white splotches on the sandy floor before the houses. We
+passed a little space of wiry <i>lallang</i> grass, which was waving in the faint breeze, and radiating long, irregular lines of heat, that under our glasses resembled
+the marking of watered silk, and were once more abreast the green walls of the impenetrable jungle.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb160" href="#pb160">160</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;The Dato Mamat captured a Portuguese ship within a man&#8217;s voice from the harbor of Malacca. On it was the foreign Governor&#8217;s
+daughter. She was dark, almost as dark as my people. Her eyes were black as night, with long, drooping lashes, and her hair
+fell about her shapely neck, a mass of waving curls. She was tall and stately, and her bearing was haughty. The mighty <i>Laksamana</i>, who had fought a hundred battles, and had a hundred wives picked from the princesses of the kingdom,&#8212;for there were none
+so noble but felt honored in his smiles,&#8212;loved this dark-skinned foreigner. It was pitiful!
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;His great fleet, which was to have swept the very name of the Portuguese from the face of the earth, lay idle before the
+harbor. Its captains were burning with ambition, but the Admiral would not give the command, and they dare not disobey.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Day after day went by while the great <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb161" href="#pb161">161</a>]</span>man hung like a pariah dog on the words of his haughty captive. She scorned his words of love, laughed at his prayers, and
+sneered at his devotion. Day after day the sun beat down on the burnished decks of the war <i>praus</i>. Night after night the evening gun in the besieged fort sent forth its mocking challenge: still the <i>Dato</i> made no motion. Oh, but it was pitiful! One by one the <i>praus</i> slipped away,&#8212;first those from Acheen, and then those from Johore,&#8212;but the valiant <i>Laksamana</i> saw them not. He was blind to all save one. Then she spoke: &#8216;If thou lovest me as thou boastest, and would win my smiles,
+send me to my father; then go and bring me of this gold of Ophir,&#8212;for the <i>Dato</i> had laid his heart bare before her,&#8212;enough to sink yon boat. The daughter of a Braganza does not unite herself with a pauper.
+When the moon is full again, I will expect you.&#8217;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So did the <i>Laksamana</i>, to the everlasting <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb162" href="#pb162">162</a>]</span>shame of Islam. When the moon was full he returned in his shining <i>prau</i> before the walls of Malacca, He brought from Ophir, of gold more than enough; of the pearls of Ceylon he brought a <i>chupah</i> full to the brim. He robbed his great palace, that he might lay at the feet of the Portuguese a fortune such as Solomon only
+ever saw. And yet the captains of his fleet cared not for the gold, so long as the mighty <i>Dato</i> saved his honor. When he left for the quay, on which stood the Governor, his daughter, and the priests of their religion,
+they said not a word, for he passed by with averted face; but each man grasped the jewelled handle of his <i>kris</i>, and swore to Allah under his breath that should but one hair of the mighty Admiral&#8217;s head be lacking when he returned, they
+would cut the false heart from the woman and feed it to the dogs.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So spoke the captains; but ere the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb163" href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>breath had passed their lips their chief was a prisoner, and the guns from the fort hurled defiance at the betrayed.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was pitiful! Allah was avenged.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fiercely raged the battle, and when there was a breach in the walls, and the captain <i>besar</i> had ordered the attack, the Portuguese held the mighty <i>Laksamana</i> over the walls, and reviled the allied fleets with words of derision.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not one moved, and all was still. Suddenly the Admiral raised his head, and gazed out and down at his followers. Then he
+spoke, and the sound of his voice reached far out to the most distant <i>prau</i> that lay becalmed within the shadow of <i><span class="corr" id="xd0e2560" title="Source: casurina">casuarina</span></i>-shaded Puli.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;<i>Allah il Allah</i>, I have sinned, and I must die. No more shall my name be known in the land. I am no longer <i>laksamana</i>; neither am I a <i>dato</i>. Allah is just. Tuan Allah Suka!&#8217;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb164" href="#pb164">164</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;A foreigner smote him in the mouth, and a great cry arose from without the walls.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The war went on; but day after day did the Governor send a message to the <i>Laksamana</i> in the dungeon. &#8216;Reveal the spot where thy gold is hidden, and thy life and liberty are granted.&#8217;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Day by day the <i>Dato</i> replied, &#8216;My life is a pollution in the nostrils of Allah. Take it.&#8217;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So they laid the great chief on the stones of his cell, bound hand and foot, and one by one did they break the joints of
+his toes, his fingers, and then the joints of his legs and arms. When they had finished, and he still lived, the woman came
+to him and mocked him, but the Admiral closed his eyes and prayed. &#8216;O Allah, the all-merciful and the loving kind, forgive
+me for my erring heart. Thou knowest that it goes out to this woman still. Let not my country <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb165" href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>suffer for my deeds. I gave unto thy servant Solomon of the gold that has made us great. If thou canst, thou wilt whisper
+the secret of our nation to one of thy chosen people, that they may have means whereby to fight thy battles.&#8217;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then the woman raised her hand, and with one stroke of the axe an attendant severed from his body the head of the once
+mighty <i>Laksamana</i> of the fleets of Johore, Acheen and Maur.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So died the secret of Ophir. So fell Malacca forever into the hands of the foreigner.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The Tuan Hakim&#8217;s voice trembled as he closed. During the tragic recital he had dropped into the soft, melodious chant of his
+nation. At times he would lapse into Malay, and the boatmen would push forward and listen with unconcealed excitement. Then,
+as he returned to English, they would drop back into their places, but never take <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb166" href="#pb166">166</a>]</span>their eyes off the face of the speaker. Only our China &#8220;boys&#8221; took no interest in the past of Maur. It was tiffin time, and
+they were anxious to set before us our lunch of rice curry, gula Malacca, whiskey and soda.
+
+</p>
+<p>The sun was directly above us, and the fierce, steely glare of the Malayan sky and water dazzled our eyes. Mount Ophir looked
+as far ahead as ever. The winding course of the river seemed at times to take us directly away from it.
+
+</p>
+<p>Just as we had finished our meal, and had lighted our manilas, the steersman turned the little launch sharply about, and headed
+directly for the shore. In a moment we had shot under and through the deep fringe of mangrove trees, and had emerged into
+the jungle. On all sides the trees rose, columnar and straight, and the ground was firm, although densely covered with ferns
+and vines.
+
+</p>
+<p>The launch stopped, and the chief turned <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb167" href="#pb167">167</a>]</span>to me. &#8220;Now for the climb. We have thirty miles to the base of the mountain. We will push on ten miles, and spend the night
+at a Malay village. The next day we will try and reach the base of the mountain.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I looked about me. We might have been surrounded by prison walls, for all hope there seemed to be of our getting an inch into
+the jungle.
+
+</p>
+<p>Our servants gathered up our rather extensive impedimenta, and sprang into the water. We were forced to follow suit, and begin
+our day&#8217;s march with wet feet. A few steps up the stream we came upon an old elephant track and plunged boldly in,&#8212;and it
+was in! For three miles we labored through a series of the most elaborate mud-holes that I have ever seen. The elephants in
+breaking a path through the jungle are extremely timid in their boldness. The second one always steps in the footprints of
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb168" href="#pb168">168</a>]</span>the first. Year after year it is the same, until in course of time the path is marked by a series of pitfalls, often two feet
+in depth; and as it rains nearly every day they become a seething, slimy paste of mud.
+
+</p>
+<p>Our heavy cloth shoes and stockings did not protect us from the attacks of innumerable leeches; for when we at last reached
+an open bit of forest and sat down to rest, we found dozens of them attached to our legs and even on our bodies. They were
+small, and beautifully marked with stripes of bright yellow.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was twilight when we neared the welcome <i>kampong</i>. We had sent a runner ahead to notify the <i>punghulo</i> of our arrival, and as we finished our struggle with the last thorny rattan, and tripped over the last rubber-vine, we could
+hear the shouting of men and the barking of dogs. Evidently we were expected.
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>kampong</i> might have been any other <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb169" href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>in the kingdom, and the little old weazened <i>punghulo</i>, who came bowing and smiling forward, might have been at the head of any one of a hundred other <i>kampongs</i>,&#8212;they were all so much alike. A half-dozen <i>attap</i> bungalows, built under a cocoanut grove, all facing toward a central plaza; a score of dogs for each bungalow; a flock of
+featherless fowls scratching and wallowing beneath them, and a bevy of half-naked children playing with a rattan ball within
+the light of a central fire,&#8212;made up the details of a little picture of Malayan home life that had become very familiar to
+me within the last three years.
+
+</p>
+<p>Our servants at once set about preparing supper before the fire, while we for politeness&#8217; sake compounded a mouthful of betel-nut
+and <i>syrah</i> leaf from the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> state box.
+
+</p>
+<p>The next morning we set out for our twenty miles&#8217; tramp, along a narrow jungle <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb170" href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>path, accompanied by some ten natives of the village whom my companion had retained to cut a path for us up the mountain.
+It was a long, tiresome journey, and we were heartily glad when it was ended, and we were encamped on the rocky banks of a
+fern-hid stream.
+
+</p>
+<p>Twice during our day&#8217;s march had we crossed deep, ragged depressions in the earth, which were overgrown with a jungle that
+seemed to be coequal in age with the surrounding trees. We did not pause to examine them, although our natives pointed them
+out with the expressive word <i>mas</i> (gold). We promised to do that at a later date. On the border of the creek I found some gold-bearing rock, and while the
+Tuan Hakim was engaged in securing some superb specimens of the great atlas moth, I sat down and crushed some fragments of
+it, and obtained enough gold to satisfy me that the rock would run four ounces to the ton.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb171" href="#pb171">171</a>]</span></p>
+<p>It was a beautiful night. We lay under our mosquito netting, and gazed up through the interlacing branches of the trees at
+the star-strewn sky, and smoked our manilas in weary content. The long, full &#8220;coo-ee&#8221; of the stealthy argus pheasant sounded
+at intervals in distant parts of the forest. It might have been the call of the orang-utan, or the wild hillmen of the country,
+for they have imitated the call of this most glorious of birds.
+
+</p>
+<p>The shrill, never ceasing whir of the cicada hardly attracted our attention; while the whistle and crash of a monkey that
+was inspecting us from his perch among the trees above caused me to peer upward, in hopes of catching a glimpse of his grayish
+outlines.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had not had an opportunity of asking my companion for the details of his tragic story. I turned to him, and found him watching
+me attentively. &#8220;Were you listening to the call of the <i>coo-ee</i>?&#8221; he asked.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; I answered.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb172" href="#pb172">172</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It is the queen of birds. I will get you one. I have never shot one. They only come out at night, and then only to disappear,
+but we can trap them. It will die in captivity. That is why Solomon could not keep them, and sent for new ones every three
+years.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What became of the woman?&#8221; I asked.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The body of the <i>Laksamana</i> was thrown over the walls by the Portuguese,&#8221; he said moodily. &#8220;It was embalmed and laid away. Two months from that day the
+woman was walking outside the walls. The war was over. There was no more gold. Three of my people sprang upon her and the
+Portuguese she was to marry.&#8221; He paused for a moment and looked up at the stars, then went on in a cold, matter-of-fact tone.
+&#8220;They were lashed to the headless body of the man they had murdered, and thrown into the royal tiger-cage, by order of his
+Highness, Ali, Sultan of Maur.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb173" href="#pb173">173</a>]</span></p>
+<p>I raised my curtain and threw the stub of my cigar out into the darkness, a smothered exclamation of horror escaping my lips.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was the will of Allah. Good night.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>It was nearly nine o&#8217;clock the next morning before we started. Our Malays had gone on at daybreak, to cut a path up the base
+of the mountain to where the open forest began.
+
+</p>
+<p>We ascended steadily up a moderate slope for several miles, keeping the ravine on our left. It was comparatively easy work
+after we had left the jungle behind. After crossing a level plateau we once more found ourselves in a forest so dense that
+our men had to use their <i>parangs</i> again. The heat of the jungle was intense, and we suffered severely from the stings of a fly that is not unlike a cicada
+in shape.
+
+</p>
+<p>From the jungle we emerged into an immense stone field,&#8212;<i>padang-batu</i>, the Malays called it. It extended along the mountain <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb174" href="#pb174">174</a>]</span>side as far as we could see, in places quite bare, at others deeply fissured and covered with a most luxuriant vegetation.
+We tramped at times waist deep through ferns, some green, some dark red, and some lined with yellow, clumps of the splendid
+<i>Dipteris Horsfieldi</i> and <i>Matonia pectinala</i>, with their slender stems and wide-spreading palmate fronds towering two feet above our heads. The delicate maidenhair lay
+like a rich carpet beneath our feet, while hundreds of magnificent climbing pitcher-plants doused us with water as we knocked
+against them. Our sympiesometer showed us that we were twenty-eight hundred feet above the sea.
+
+</p>
+<p>Beyond the <i>padang-batu</i> we entered a forest of almost Alpine character, dwarfed and stunted. For several hours we worked along ridges, descended
+into valleys, and ascended almost precipitous ledges, until we finally reached a peak that was separated from the true mountain
+by a deep, forbidding ca&ntilde;on.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb175" href="#pb175">175</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Several of the older men of the party gave out, and we were forced to leave them with half our baggage and what water was
+left: there was a spring, they told us, near the summit.
+
+</p>
+<p>The scramble down the one side of the ca&ntilde;on, and up the other, was a hard hour&#8217;s work. Its rocky, almost perpendicular sides
+were covered with a bushy vegetation on top of a foundation of mosses and dead leaves, so that it afforded us more hindrance
+than help.
+
+</p>
+<p>Just below the summit we came to where a projecting rock gave us shelter, and a natural basin contained flowing water. Dropping
+my load, and hardly waiting to catch my breath, I was on my way up the fifty feet that lay between us and the top. In another
+moment I had mounted the small, rocky, rhododendron-covered platform, and stood, the first of my party, on the summit of Mount
+Ophir. The little American flag <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb176" href="#pb176">176</a>]</span>that I had brought with me I waved frantically above my head, much to the amusement of my attendants.
+
+</p>
+<p>Four thousand feet below, to the east, stretched the silver sheen of the Indian Ocean. The smoke of a passing steamer lay
+like a dark stain on the blue and white of the sky. Close into the shore was the little capital town of Bander Maharani, connecting
+itself with us by a long, snake-like ribbon of shimmering light,&#8212;the great river Maur.
+
+</p>
+<p>To the north and west successive ranges of hill and valley, divided by the glistening river, and all covered by an interminable
+jungle of vivid green, fell away until lost in the cloudless horizon.
+
+</p>
+<p>For a moment I stood and gazed out over the vast expanse that lay before me, my mind filled with the wild, unwritten poetry
+of its jungles and its people; then I turned to my companion.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb177" href="#pb177">177</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It is beautiful!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But not equal to the view from our own Mount Washington.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then why take so much trouble to secure it? Mount Pulei is as high, and there is a good road to its top.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I laughed. &#8220;Mount Pulei or Mount Washington is not Ophir.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;True!&#8221; he answered, opening his eyes in surprise at the seeming absurdity of my statement. &#8220;He that told you they were speaketh
+a lie.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>We spent the night on the summit, and watched the sun drop into the midst of the sea, away to the west. It was cool and delightful
+after the moist, heat-laden atmosphere of the lowlands, and a strong breeze freed us from the swarm of tiger mosquitoes that
+we had learned to expect as the darkness came on.
+
+</p>
+<p>Where the Ophir of the Bible really is, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb178" href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>will ever be a question of doubt. To my mind it embraces the entire East&#8212;the Malay Peninsula, Ceylon, India, and even China,&#8212;Ophir
+being merely a comprehensive term, possibly taken from this Mount Ophir of Johore, which signified the most central point
+of the region to which Solomon&#8217;s ships sailed. For all ages the gold of the Malay Peninsula has been known; from the earliest
+times there has been intercourse between the Arabians and the Malays, while the Malayan was the very first of the far Eastern
+countries to adopt the Mohammedan religion and customs.
+
+</p>
+<p>All the articles mentioned in the Biblical account of Mount Ophir are found in and about Malacca in abundance, while on the
+coast of Africa two of them, peacocks and silver, are missing.
+
+</p>
+<p>If the Hebrew word <i>thukyim</i> is translated peacocks, and not parrots, then Solomon&#8217;s ships must have turned east after passing <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb179" href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, and not south along the coast of Africa toward Sofala. For peacocks are only found in India
+and Malaya.
+
+</p>
+<p>It is a singular fact that in the language of the <i>Orang Bennu</i>, or aborigines of the Malay Peninsula, that word &#8220;peacocks,&#8221; which in the modern Malay is <i>marrak</i>, is in the aboriginal <i>chim marak</i>, which is the exact termination of the Hebrew <i>tuchim</i>. Their word for bird is <i>tchem</i>, another surprising similarity.
+
+</p>
+<p>The morning sun brought us to our feet long before it was light in the vast spaces beneath our eyes. The jungle held its reddening
+rays for a moment; they flamed along the course of a half-hidden river; we stood out clear and distinct in their glorious
+effulgence, and then the broken, denuded crags and ragged ravines of the <i>padang-batu</i> absorbed them in its black fastnesses.
+
+</p>
+<p>The gold of Mount Ophir was all about us. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb180" href="#pb180">180</a>]</span>The air, the stones, the very trees, seemed to have been transformed into the glorious metal that the little fleets of Solomon
+and Huram sailed so far to seek. The Aurea Chersonese was a breathing, pulsating reality.
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb181" href="#pb181">181</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch10" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">Busuk</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">The Story of a Malayan Girlhood</h2>
+<p>They called her Busuk, or &#8220;the youngest&#8221; at her birth. Her father, the old <i>punghulo</i>, or chief, of the little <i>kampong</i>, or village, of Passir Panjang, whispered the soft Allah Akbar, the prayer to Allah, in her small brown ear.
+
+</p>
+<p>The subjects of the <i>punghulo</i> brought presents of <i>sarongs</i> run with gold thread, and not larger than a handkerchief, for Busuk to wear about her waist. They also brought gifts of rice
+in baskets of cunningly woven cocoanut fibre; of bananas, a hundred on a bunch; of <i>durians</i>, that filled the bungalow with so strong an odor that Busuk drew up her wrinkled, tiny face into a quaint frown; and of cocoanuts
+in their great green, oval shucks.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb182" href="#pb182">182</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Busuk&#8217;s old aunt, who lived far away up the river Maur, near the foot of Mount Ophir, sent a yellow gold pin for the hair;
+her husband, the Hadji Mat, had washed the gold from the bed of the stream that rushed by their bungalow.
+
+</p>
+<p>Busuk&#8217;s brother, who was a sergeant in his Highness&#8217;s the Sultan&#8217;s artillery at Johore, brought a tiny pair of sandals all
+worked in many-colored beads. Never had such presents been seen at the birth of any other of Punghulo Sahak&#8217;s children.
+
+</p>
+<p>Two days later the Imam Paduka Tuan sent Busuk&#8217;s father a letter sewn up in a yellow bag. It contained a blessing for Busuk.
+Busuk kept the letter all her life, for it was a great thing for the high priest to do.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>On the seventh day Busuk&#8217;s head was shaven and she was named Fatima; but they called her Busuk in the <i>kampong</i>, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb183" href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>some even called her Inchi Busuk, the princess.
+
+</p>
+<p>From the low-barred window of Busuk&#8217;s home she could look out on the shimmering, sunlit waters of the Straits of Malacca.
+The loom on which Busuk&#8217;s mother wove the <i>sarongs</i> for the <i>punghulo</i> and for her sons stood by the side of the window, and Busuk, from the sling in which she sat on her mother&#8217;s side, could
+see the fishing <i>praus</i> glide by, and also the big lumber <i>tonkangs</i>, and at rare intervals one of his Highness&#8217;s launches.
+
+</p>
+<p>Sometimes she blinked her eyes as a vagrant shaft of sunlight straggled down through the great green and yellow fronds of
+the cocoanut palms that stood about the bungalow; sometimes she kept her little black eyes fixed gravely on the flying shuttle
+which her mother threw deftly back and forth through the many-colored threads; but best of all did she love to watch the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb184" href="#pb184">184</a>]</span>little gray lizards that ran about on the palm sides of the house after the flies and moths.
+
+</p>
+<p>She was soon able to answer the lizards&#8217; call of &#8220;gecho, gecho,&#8221; and once she laughed outright when one, in fright of her
+baby-fingers, dropped its tail and went wiggling away like a boat without a rudder. But most of the time she swung and crowed
+in her wicker cradle under the low rafters.
+
+</p>
+<p>When Busuk grew older, she was carried every day down the ladder of the house and put on the warm white sand with the other
+children. They were all naked, save for a little chintz bib that was tied to their necks; so it made no difference how many
+mudpies they made on the beach nor how wet they got in the tepid waters of the ocean. They had only to look out carefully
+for the crocodiles that glided noiselessly among the mangrove roots.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb185" href="#pb185">185</a>]</span></p>
+<p>One day one of Busuk&#8217;s playmates was caught in the cruel jaws of a crocodile, and lost its hand. The men from the village
+went out into the labyrinth of roots that stood up above the flood like a huge scaffolding, and caught the man-eater with
+ropes of the <i>gamooty</i> palm. They dragged it up the beach and put out its eyes with red-hot spikes of the hard billion wood.
+
+</p>
+<p>Although the varnished leaves of the cocoanuts kept almost every ray of sunlight out of the little village, and though the
+children could play in the airy spaces under their own houses, their heads and faces were painted with a paste of flour and
+water to keep their tender skins from chafing in the hot, moist air.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>At evening, when the fierce sun went down behind the great banian tree that nearly hid Mount Pulei, the <i>kateeb</i> would sound the call to prayer on a hollow log <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb186" href="#pb186">186</a>]</span>that hung up before the little palm-thatched mosque. Then Busuk and her playmates would fall on their faces, while the holy
+man sang in a soft, monotonous voice the promises of the Koran, the men of the <i>kampong</i> answering. &#8220;<i>Allah il Allah</i>,&#8221; he would sing, and &#8220;Mohammed is his prophet,&#8221; they would answer.
+
+</p>
+<p>Every night Busuk would lie down on a mat on the floor of the house with a little wooden pillow under her neck, and when she
+dared she would peep down through the open spaces in the bamboo floor into the darkness beneath. Once she heard a low growl,
+and a great dark form stood right below her. She could see its tail lashing its sides with short, whip-like movements. Then
+all the dogs in the <i>kampong</i> began to bark, and the men rushed down their ladders screaming, &#8220;<i>Harimau! Harimau!</i>&#8221; (A tiger! A tiger!) The next morning she found that her pet dog, Fatima, named after <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb187" href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>herself, had been killed by one stroke of the great beast&#8217;s paw. Once a monster python swung from a cocoanut tree through
+the window of her home, and wound itself round and round the post of her mother&#8217;s loom. It took a dozen men to tie a rope
+to the serpent&#8217;s tail, and pull it out.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>Busuk went everywhere astride the <i>punghulo&#8217;s</i> broad shoulders as he collected the taxes and settled the disputes in the little village. She went out into the straits in
+the big <i>prau</i> that floated the star and crescent of Johore over its stern, to look at the fishing-stakes, and was nearly wrecked by a great
+water-spout that burst within a few feet of them.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then she went twice to Johore, and gazed in open-eyed wonder at the palaces of the Sultan and at the fort in which her uncle
+was an officer.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some day,&#8221; she thought, &#8220;I may see his Highness, and he may notice me and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb188" href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>smile.<span class="corr" id="xd0e2892" title="Not in source">&#8221;</span> For had not his Highness spoken twice to her father and called him a good man? So whenever she went to Johore she put on
+her best <i>sarong</i> and <i>kabaya</i>&gt; and in her jetty black hair she put the pin her aunt had given her, with a spray of sweet-smelling <i>chumpaka</i> flower.
+
+</p>
+<p>When she was four years old she went to the <i>penager</i> to learn to read and write. In a few months she could outstrip any one in the class in tracing Arabic characters on the sand-sprinkled
+floor, and she knew whole chapters in the Koran.
+
+</p>
+<p>So the days were passed in the little <i>kampong</i> under the gently swaying cocoanuts, and the little Malayan girl grew up like her companions, free and wild, with little thought
+beyond the morrow. That some day she was to be married, she knew; for since her first birthday she had been engaged to Mamat,
+the son of her father&#8217;s friend, the <i>punghulo</i> of Bander Bahru.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb189" href="#pb189">189</a>]</span></p>
+<p>She had never seen Mamat, nor he her; for it was not proper that a Malay should see his intended before marriage. She had
+heard that he was strong and lithe of limb, and could beat all his fellows at the game called <i>ragga</i>. When the wicker ball was in the air he never let it touch the ground; for he was as quick with his head and feet, shoulders,
+hips, and breast, as with his hands. He could swim and box, and had once gone with his father to the seaports on New Year&#8217;s
+Day at Singapore, and his own <i>prau</i> had won the short-distance race.
+
+</p>
+<p>Mamat was three years older than Busuk, and they were to be married when she was fifteen.
+
+</p>
+<p>At first she cried a little, for she was sad at the thought of giving up her playmates. But then the older women told her
+that she could chew betel when she was married, and her mother showed her a little set of betel-nut boxes, for which she had
+sent to Singapore. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb190" href="#pb190">190</a>]</span>Each cup was of silver, and the box was cunningly inlaid with storks and cherry blossoms. It had cost her mother a month&#8217;s
+hard labor on the loom.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then Mamat was not to take her back to his father&#8217;s bungalow. He had built a little one of his own, raised up on palm posts
+six feet from the ground, so that she need not fear tigers or snakes or white ants. Its sides were of plaited palm leaves,
+every other one colored differently, and its roof was of the choicest <i>attap</i>, each leaf bent carefully over a rod of rattan, and stitched so evenly that not a drop of rain could get through.
+
+</p>
+<p>Inside there was a room especially for her, with its sides hung with <i>sarongs</i>, and by the window was a loom made of <i>kamooning</i> wood, finer than her mother&#8217;s. Outside, under the eaves, was a house of bent rattan for her ring-doves, and a shelf where
+her silver-haired monkey could sun himself.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb191" href="#pb191">191</a>]</span></p>
+<p>So Busuk forgot her grief, and she watched with ill-concealed eagerness the coming of Mamat&#8217;s friends with presents of tobacco
+and rice and bone-tipped <i>krises</i>. Then for the first time she was permitted to open the camphor-wood chest and gaze upon all the beautiful things that she
+was to wear for the one great day.
+
+</p>
+<p>Her mother and elder sisters had been married in them, and their children would, one after another, be married in them after
+her.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was a <i>sarong</i> of silk, run with threads of gold and silver, that was large enough to go around her body twice and wide enough to hang from
+her waist to her ankles; a belt of silver, with a gold plate in front, to hold the <i>sarong</i> in place; a <i>kabaya</i>, or outer garment, that looked like a dressing-gown, and was fastened down the front with golden brooches of curious Malayan
+workmanship; a pair of red-tipped sandals; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb192" href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>and a black lace scarf to wear about her black hair. There were earrings and a necklace of colored glass, and armlets, bangles,
+and gold pins. They all dazzled Busuk, and she could hardly wait to try them on.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>A buffalo was sacrificed on the day of the ceremony. The animal was &#8220;without blemish or disease.&#8221; The men were careful not
+to break its fore or hind leg or its spine, after death, for such was the law. Its legs were bound and its head was fastened,
+and water was poured upon it while the <i>kadi</i> prayed. Then he divided its windpipe. When it was cooked, one half of it was given to the priests and the other half to the
+people.
+
+</p>
+<p>All the guests, and there were many, brought offerings of cooked rice in the fresh green leaves of the plantain, and baskets
+of delicious mangosteens, and pink mangoes and great jack-fruits. A curry was made from <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb193" href="#pb193">193</a>]</span>the rice that had forty <i>sambuls</i> to mix with it. There were the pods of the moringa tree, chilies and capsicums, prawns and decayed fish, chutneys and onions,
+ducks&#8217; eggs and fish roes, peppers and cucumbers and grated cocoanuts.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was a wonderful curry, made by one of the Sultan&#8217;s own cooks; for the Punghulo Sahak spared no expense in the marriage
+of this, his last daughter, and a great feast is exceedingly honorable in the eyes of the guests.
+
+</p>
+<p>Busuk&#8217;s long black hair had to be done up in a marvellous chignon on the top of her head. First, her maids washed it beautifully
+clean with the juice of the lime and the lather of the soap-nut; then it was combed and brushed until every hair glistened
+like ebony; next it was twisted up and stuck full of the quaint golden and tortoise-shell bodkins, with here and there a spray
+of jasmine and <i>chumpaka</i>.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb194" href="#pb194">194</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Busuk&#8217;s milky-white teeth had to be filed off more than a fourth. She put her head down on the lap of the woman and closed
+her eyes tight to keep back the hot tears that would fall, but after the pain was over and her teeth were blackened, she looked
+in the mirror at her swollen gums and thought that she was very beautiful. Now she could chew the betel-nut from the box her
+mother had given her!
+
+</p>
+<p>The palms of her hands and the nails of her fingers and toes were painted red with henna, and the lids of her eyes touched
+up with antimony. When all was finished, they led her out into the great room, which was decorated with mats of colored palm,
+masses of sweet-smelling flowers and maidenhair fern. There they placed her in the chair of state to receive her relatives
+and friends.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>She trembled a little for fear Mamat would not think her beautiful, but when, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb195" href="#pb195">195</a>]</span>last of all, he came up and smiled and claimed the bit of betel-nut that she was chewing for the first time, and placed it
+in his mouth, she smiled back and was very happy.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then the <i>kadi</i> pronounced them man and wife in the presence of all, for is it not written, &#8220;Written deeds may be forged, destroyed, or altered;
+but the memory of what is transacted in the presence of a thousand witnesses must remain sacred? <i>Allah il Allah!</i>&#8221; And all the people answered, &#8220;<i>Suka! Suka!</i>&#8221; (We wish it! We wish it!)
+
+</p>
+<p>Then Mamat took his seat on the dais beside the bride, and the <i>punghulo</i> passed about the betel-box. First, Busuk took out a <i>syrah</i> leaf smeared with lime and placed in it some broken fragments of the betel-nut, and chewed it until a bright red liquid oozed
+from the corners of her mouth. The others did the same.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb196" href="#pb196">196</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Then the women brought garlands of flowers&#8212;red allamandas, yellow convolvulus, and pink hibiscus&#8212;and hung them about Busuk
+and Mamat, while the musicians outside beat their crocodile-hide drums in frantic haste.
+
+</p>
+<p>The great feast began out in the sandy plaza before the houses. There was cock-fighting and kicking the <i>ragga</i> ball, wrestling and boxing, and some gambling among the elders.
+
+</p>
+<p>Toward night Busuk was put in a rattan chair and carried by the young men, while Mamat and the girls walked by her side, a
+mile away, where her husband&#8217;s big <i>cadjang</i>-covered <i>prau</i> lay moored. It was to take them to his bungalow at Bander Bahru. The band went, too, and the boys shot off guns and fire-crackers
+all the way, until Busuk&#8217;s head swam, and she was so happy that the tears came into her eyes and trickled down through the
+rouge on her cheeks.
+
+</p>
+<p>So ended Busuk&#8217;s childhood. She was <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb197" href="#pb197">197</a>]</span>not quite fifteen when she became mistress of her own little palm-thatched home. But it was not play housekeeping with her;
+for she must weave the <i>sarongs</i> for Mamat and herself for clothes and for spreads at night, and the weaving of each cost her twenty days&#8217; hard labor. If
+she could weave an extra one from time to time, Mamat would take it up to Singapore and trade it at the bazaar for a pin for
+the hair or a sunshade with a white fringe about it.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then there were the shell-fish and prawns on the sea-shore to be found, greens to be sought out in the jungle, and the <i>padi</i>, or rice, to be weeded. She must keep a plentiful supply of betel-nut and lemon leaves for Mamat and herself, and one day
+there was a little boy to look after and make tiny <i>sarongs</i> for.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>So, long before the time that our American girls are out of school, and about the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb198" href="#pb198">198</a>]</span>time they are putting on long dresses, Busuk was a woman. Her shoulders were bent, her face wrinkled, her teeth decayed and
+falling out from the use of the <i>syrah</i> leaf. She had settled the engagement of her oldest boy to a little girl of two years in a neighboring <i>kampong</i>, and was dusting out the things in the camphor-wood chest, preparatory to the great occasion.
+
+</p>
+<p>I used to wonder, as I wandered through one of these secluded little Malay villages that line the shores of the peninsula
+and are scattered over its interior, if the little girl mothers who were carrying water and weaving mats did not sometimes
+long to get down on the warm, white sands and have a regular romp among themselves,&#8212;playing &#8220;Cat-a-corner&#8221; or &#8220;I spy&#8221;; for
+none of them were over seventeen or eighteen!
+
+</p>
+<p>Still their lives are not unhappy. Their husbands are kind and sober, and they are never destitute. They have their families
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb199" href="#pb199">199</a>]</span>about them, and hear laughter and merriment from one sunny year to another.
+
+</p>
+<p>Busuk&#8217;s father-in-law is dead now, and the last time I visited Bander Bahru to shoot wild pig, Mamat was <i>punghulo</i>, collecting the taxes and administering the laws.
+
+</p>
+<p>He raised the back of his open palm to his forehead with a quiet dignity when I left, after the day&#8217;s sport, and said, &#8220;<i>Tabek!</i> Tuan Consul. Do not forget Mamat&#8217;s humble bungalow.&#8221; And Busuk came down the ladder with little Mamat astride her bare shoulders,
+with a pleasant &#8220;<i>Tabek! Tuan!</i> (Good-by, my lord.) May Allah&#8217;s smile be ever with you.&#8221;
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb200" href="#pb200">200</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch11" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">A Crocodile Hunt</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">At the foot of Mount Ophir</h2>
+<p>The little pleasant-faced Malay captain of his Highness&#8217;s three-hundred ton yacht <i>Pante</i> called softly, close to my ear, &#8220;Tuan&#8212;Tuan Consul, Gunong Ladang!&#8221; I sprang to my feet, rubbed my eyes, and gazed in the
+direction indicated by the brown hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>I saw not five miles off the low jungle-bound coast of the peninsula, and above it a great bank of vaporous clouds, pierced
+by the molten rays of the early morning sun. As I looked around inquiringly, the captain, bowing, said: &#8220;Tuan,&#8221; and I raised
+my eyes. Again I saw the lofty mountain peak surmounting the cushion of clouds, standing out bold and clear against the almost
+fierce azure of the Malayan sky.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb201" href="#pb201">201</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Mount Ophir!&#8221; burst from my lips. The captain smiled and went forward to listen to the linesman&#8217;s &#8220;two fathoms, sir, two
+and one half fathoms, sir, two fathoms, sir&#8221;; for we were crossing the shallow bar that protects the mouth of the great river
+Maur from the ocean.
+
+</p>
+<p>The tide was running out like a mill-race. The <i>Pante</i> was backing from side to side, and then pushing carefully ahead, trying to get into the deep water beyond, before low tide.
+
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly there was a soft, grating sound and the captain came to me and touched his hat.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are on the bar, sir. Will you send a despatch by the steam-cutter to Prince Suliman, asking for the launch? We cannot
+get off until the night tide.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>Pante</i> had so swung around that we could plainly see the big red <i>istana</i>, or palace, of Prince Suliman close to the sandy shore, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb202" href="#pb202">202</a>]</span>surrounded by a grove of graceful palms. With the aid of our glasses the white and red blur farther up the river resolved
+itself into the streets and quays of the little city of Bander Maharani, the capital of the province of Maur in dominions
+of his Highness Abubaker, Sultan of Johore. Above and overshadowing all both in beauty and historical interest was the famous
+old mountain where King Solomon sent his diminutive ships for &#8220;gold, silver, peacocks, and apes.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>By the time the ladies were astir, the mists had vanished and Gunong Ladang, or as it is styled in Holy Writ Mount Ophir,
+presented to our admiring gaze its massive outlines, set in a frame of green and blue. The dense jungle crept halfway up its
+sides and at the point where the cloud stratum had rested but an hour before, it merged into a tangled network of vines and
+shrubs which in their turn gave place to the black, red rock that shone like burnished brass.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb203" href="#pb203">203</a>]</span></p>
+<p>If our minds wandered away from visions of future crocodile-shooting to dreams of the past wealth that had been taken from
+the ancient mines that honeycombed the base of the mountain, it is hardly to be wondered at. If <i>Dato</i> or &#8220;Lord&#8221; Garlands told us queer stories of woods and masonry that antedated the written history of the country, stories
+of mines and workings that were overgrown with a jungle that looked as primeval as the mountain itself, he was to be excused
+on the plea that we, waiting on a sandy bar with the metallic glare of the sea in our eyes, were glad of any subject to distract
+our thoughts.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Resident&#8217;s launch brought out Prince Mat and the Chief Justice, both of whom spoke English with an easy familiarity. Both
+had been in Europe and Prince Mat had dined with Queen Victoria. One night at table he related the incidents of that dinner
+with a delightful exactness that might have <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb204" href="#pb204">204</a>]</span>pleased her Britannic Majesty could she have listened.
+
+</p>
+<p>I waited only long enough to see the ladies installed in a suite of rooms in the Residency, then donned a suit of white duck,
+stepped into a river launch in company with Inchi Mohamed, the Chief Justice, and steamed out into the broad waters of the
+Maur.
+
+</p>
+<p>The southernmost kingdom of the great continent of Asia is the little Sultanate of Johore, ruled over by one of the most enlightened
+Princes of the East. Fourteen miles from Singapore, just across the notorious old Straits of Malacca, is his capital and the
+palace of the Sultan.
+
+</p>
+<p>We had been guests of the State for the past two weeks. Its ruler, among other kind attentions to us, had suggested a visit
+to his out province Maur and a crocodile hunt along the banks of the broad river that wound about the foot of Mount Ophir.
+
+</p>
+<p>Fifteen hours&#8217; steam in his beautiful yacht <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb205" href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>along the picturesque shores of Johore brought us to the realization of a long-cherished dream,&#8212;the seeing for ourselves the
+mountain whose exact location had been a subject of conjecture for so many centuries. Were I a scholar and explorer and not
+a sportsman, I might again and more explicitly set forth facts which I consider indubitable proof that the Mount Ophir of
+Asia and not the Mount Ophir of Africa is, as I have already claimed, the Mount Ophir of the Bible. But here, I wish only
+to narrate the record of a few pleasant days spent at its foot.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Maur River, at its mouth, is a mile across; it is so deep that one can run close up to its muddy banks and peer in under
+the labyrinth of mangrove roots that stand like a rustic scaffold beneath its trunks, protecting them from the highest flood-tides.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was some time before I could pick out a crocodile as he lay sleeping in his muddy bath, showing nothing above the slime
+except <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb206" href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>the serrated line of his great back, which was so incrusted that, but for its regularity, it might pass for the limb of a
+tree or some fantastically shaped root.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There you are!&#8221; said the Chief Justice, pointing at the bank almost before we had reached the opposite side. I strained my
+eyes and raised the hammer of my &#8220;50 x 110&#8221; Winchester; for I was to have a shot at my first live crocodile.
+
+</p>
+<p>We drew nearer and nearer the shore and yet I failed to see anything that resembled an animal of any sort. The little launch
+slowed down and the crew all pointed toward the bank. I cannot now imagine what I expected then to see, but something must
+have been in my mind&#8217;s eye that blinded my bodily sight; for there, right before me, was a little fellow not over three feet
+long.
+
+</p>
+<p>He had just come up from the river, and his hide was clean and almost a dark birch color. His head was raised and he was <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb207" href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>regarding us suspiciously from his small green eyes.
+
+</p>
+<p>I put down my rifle in disgust, and took up my revolver. I had no idea of wasting a hundred and ten grains of powder on a
+baby. I took careful aim and fired. The revolver was a self-cocker, and yet before I could fire again, he had whirled about
+and was out of reach. He was gone and I drew a long breath. The Malays said I struck him. If I did, I had no means of proving
+it.
+
+</p>
+<p>The only way to bag crocodiles is to kill them outright or nearly so. If they have strength enough to crawl into the river
+and die, they will come to the surface again two days later; but the chances are that they will get under a root, or that
+in some way you will lose them. Out of forty or fifty big and small ones that we hit only five floated down past the Residency.
+
+</p>
+<p>I also soon found out that my hundred <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb208" href="#pb208">208</a>]</span>and ten grain cartridges were none too large for even the smaller crocodiles. As for those eighteen and twenty feet long,
+it was necessary that the Chief Justice and I should fire at the same time and at the same spot in order to arrest the big
+saurians in their wild scramble for the water.
+
+</p>
+<p>We had tried some half-dozen good shots at small fellows, varying from two to five feet in length, when I began to lose interest
+in the sport; so I turned to watch a colony of little gray, jungle monkeys, that were swinging and chattering and scolding
+among the mangrove trees.
+
+</p>
+<p>One of them picked a long dart-shaped fruit off the tree and essayed to drop it on the head of his mate below. I was about
+to call my companion&#8217;s attention to it, when I heard a crash among the roots near where the missile had fallen, and a crocodile,
+so large that I distrusted my senses, turned his great log-like head to one side and gazed up at the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb209" href="#pb209">209</a>]</span>frightened monkeys. I raised my hand, and the launch paused not over twenty yards from where he lay patiently waiting for
+one of the monkeys to drop within reach of his great jaws.
+
+</p>
+<p>The sun had dried the mud on his back until the entire surface reminded me of the beach of a muddy mill-pond that I used to
+frequent as a boy.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Boyah besar!</i>&#8221; (A royal crocodile) repeated our Malays under their breaths.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Chief Justice and I fired at the same time, and the massive fellow who, but a moment before, had looked to be as stiff
+and clumsy as a bar of pig iron, now seemed to be made of india-rubber and steel springs. I should not have been more surprised
+had the great <i>timboso</i> tree, beside which he lay, arisen and danced a jig. He seemed to spring from the middle up into the air without the aid of
+either his head or his tail. Then he brought his tail around in a circle <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb210" href="#pb210">210</a>]</span>and struck the skeleton roots of the mangrove with such force as to dislodge a small monkey in its top, which fell whistling
+with fright into the lower limbs, while the crocodile&#8217;s great jaws, which seemed to measure a third of his length, opened
+and shut viciously, snapping off limbs and roots like straws.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He sick!&#8221; shouted the Chief Justice. &#8220;Fire quick.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I threw the cartridge from the magazine into the barrel, and raised the gun to my shoulder just as the huge saurian struck
+the water. My bullet caught him underneath, near the back legs. My companion&#8217;s must have had more effect, for the crocodile
+stopped as though stunned. I had time to drop my gun and snatch up my revolver.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was an easy shot. The bullet sped true to its mark and entered one of the small fiery eyes. The huge frame seemed to quiver
+as though a charge of electricity had <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb211" href="#pb211">211</a>]</span>gone through it and then stiffened out,&#8212;dead.
+
+</p>
+<p>Our Malay boys got a rope of tough <i>gamooty</i> fibres around the great head, and we towed our prize out into the stream just as the Resident&#8217;s launch, bearing the Prince
+and the ladies, steamed up the river to watch the sport.
+
+</p>
+<p>A crowd of servants got the crocodile up on the bank near the palace grounds and drew it two hundred yards to their quarters.
+Now comes the strangest part of the story.
+
+</p>
+<p>My servants had half completed the task of skinning him, for I wished to send his hide to the Smithsonian, when the muezzin
+sounded the call to prayers from the little mosque near by. In an instant the devout Mohammedans were on their faces and the
+crocodile in his half-skinned state was left until a more convenient time. At six o&#8217;clock the next morning I was awakened
+by a knock at my door:&#8212;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb212" href="#pb212">212</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan, Tuan Consul, come see <i>boyah</i> (crocodile).&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I got up, wrapped a <i>sarong</i> about me, put my feet into a pair of grass slippers, and followed my guide out of the palace, through the courts to where
+the crocodile had been the night before, but no crocodile was to be seen. My guide grinned and pointed to a heavy trail that
+looked like the track of a stone-boat drawn by a yoke of oxen.
+
+</p>
+<p>We followed it for a hundred yards in the direction of the river, and came upon the crocodile, covered with blood and mud.
+His own hide hung about him like a dress, and his one eye opened and shut at the throng of wondering natives about. It was
+not until he had been put out of his misery and his hide taken entirely off that we felt confident of his <i>bona fide</i> demise.
+
+</p>
+<p>One day I had a real adventure while out shooting, which, like many real adventures, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb213" href="#pb213">213</a>]</span>was made up principally of the things I thought and suffered rather than of the things I did. Hence I hardly know how to write
+it out so that it will look like an &#8220;adventure&#8221; and not a mere mishap.
+
+</p>
+<p>My companion had told me of a trail some thirty miles up the river that led into the jungle about three miles, to some old
+gold workings that date back beyond the written records of the State. So one day we drew our little launch close up under
+the bank of the river, and I sprang ashore, bent on seeing for myself the prehistoric remains. Contrary to the advice of the
+Chief Justice, I only took a heavy hunting-knife with me, and it was more for slashing away thorns and rattans than for protection.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was the heat of the day, and the dense jungle was like a furnace. Before I had gone a mile I began to regret my enthusiasm.
+I found the path, but it was so overgrown with creepers, parasites, and rubber-vines <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb214" href="#pb214">214</a>]</span>that I had almost to cut a new one. Had it not been for the company of a small English terrier, Lekas,&#8212;the Malay for &#8220;make
+haste,&#8221;&#8212;I believe I should have turned back.
+
+</p>
+<p>However, I found the old workings, and spent several hours making calculations as to their depth and course, taking notes
+as to the country formation, and assaying some bits of refuse quartz. Rather than struggle back by the path, I determined
+to follow the course of a stream that went through the mines and on toward the coast. So I whistled for Lekas and started
+on.
+
+</p>
+<p>For the first half-hour everything went smoothly. Then the stream widened out and its clay bottom gave place to one of mud,
+which made the walking much more difficult. At last I struck the mangrove belt, which always warns you that you are approaching
+the coast.
+
+</p>
+<p>As long as I kept in the centre of the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb215" href="#pb215">215</a>]</span>channel, I was out of the way of the network of roots; but now the channel was getting deeper and my progress becoming more
+labored. It was impossible to reach the bank, for the mangroves on either side had grown so thick and dense as to be impenetrable.
+
+</p>
+<p>When I had perhaps achieved half the distance, the thought suddenly crossed my mind&#8212;how very awkward it would be to meet a
+crocodile in such a place! One couldn&#8217;t run, that was certain, and as for fighting, that would be a lost cause from the first.
+
+</p>
+<p>Right in the midst of these unpleasant cogitations I heard a quiet splash in the water, not far behind, that sent my heart
+into my mouth. In a moment I had scrambled on to a mangrove root and had turned to look for the cause of my fears.
+
+</p>
+<p>For perhaps a minute I saw nothing, and was trying to convince myself that my previous thoughts had made me fanciful, when,
+not many yards off, I saw distinctly <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb216" href="#pb216">216</a>]</span>the form of a huge crocodile swimming rapidly toward me. I needed no second look, but dashed away over the roots.
+
+</p>
+<p>Before I had gone half a dozen yards I was down sprawling in the mud. I got entangled, and my terror made me totally unable
+to act with any judgment. Despair nerved me and I turned at bay with my long hunting-knife in my hand. How I longed for even
+my revolver!
+
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p216.jpg" alt="A crocodile hunt on the maur" width="466" height="720"><p class="figureHead">A crocodile hunt on the maur</p>
+<p>&#8220;I turned at bay with my long hunting knife in my hand&#8221;</p>
+</div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<p>Whatever the issue, it could not be long delayed. The uncouth, hideous form, which as yet I had only seen dimly, was plain
+now. I took my stand on one of the largest roots, steadied myself by clasping another with my left hand, and waited.
+
+</p>
+<p>My chances, if it did not seem a mockery to call them such, were small indeed. I might, by singular good luck, deprive my
+adversary of sight; but hemmed in as I was by a tangled mass of roots, I felt that even then I should be but little better
+off.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb217" href="#pb217">217</a>]</span></p>
+<p>All manner of thoughts came unbidden to my mind. I could see Inchi Mohamed propped up on cushions in the launch reading &#8220;A
+Little Book of Profitable Tales&#8221; that had just been sent me by its author. I started to smile at the tale of <i>The Clycopeedy</i>. Then I caught sight of the peak of Mount Ophir through a notch in the jungle and all sorts of absurd hypotheses in regard
+to its authenticity flashed through my mind. All this takes time to relate, but those who have stood in mortal peril will
+know how short a time it takes to think.
+
+</p>
+<p>From the moment I left the water, but a few seconds had elapsed and the saurian was not two yards from me. The abject horror
+and hopelessness of that moment was something I can never forget. Suddenly Lekas came floundering through the mud; a second
+more, and he perceived my enemy when almost within reach of his jaws.
+
+</p>
+<p>Barking furiously, Lekas began to back <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb218" href="#pb218">218</a>]</span>away. One breathless moment, and the reptile turned to follow this new prey. I sank down among the roots regardless of the
+slime and watched the crocodile crawl deliberately away, with the gallant little dog retreating before him, keeping up a succession
+of angry barks.
+
+</p>
+<p>When I arrived at the mouth of the creek, weak, faint, and covered from head to foot with mud, I found the Chief Justice awaiting
+me. The barking of the dog had attracted his attention and he had steamed up to see what was the matter.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had not strength left to stroke the head of the brave little fellow who had thus twice done me a most welcome service. I
+had, indeed, but just strength enough to spring in, throw myself down on the cushions, and let my &#8220;boys&#8221; pull off my clothes
+and bring me a suit of clean pajamas and cool grass slippers.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb219" href="#pb219">219</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch12" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">A New Year&#8217;s Day in Malaya</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">And some of its Picturesque Customs</h2>
+<p>My Malay <i>syce</i> came close up to the veranda and touched his brown forehead with the back of his open hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Tuan</i>&#8221; (Lord), he said, &#8220;have got oil for harness, two one-half cents; black oil for <i>cudah&#8217;s</i> (horse) feet, three cents; oil, one cent one-half for bits; oil, seven cents for <i>cretah</i> (carriage). Fourteen cents, Tuan.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I put my hands into the pockets of my white duck jacket and drew out a roll of big Borneo coppers.
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>syce</i> counted out the desired amount, and handed back what was left through the bamboo <i>chicks</i>, or curtains, that reduced the blinding glare of the sky to a soft, translucent gray. I closed my eyes and stretched <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb220" href="#pb220">220</a>]</span>back in my long chair, wondering vaguely at the occasion that called for such an outlay in oils, when I heard once more the
+quiet, insistent &#8220;Tuan!&#8221; I opened my eyes.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No got red, white, blue ribbon for whip.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Sudah chukup!</i>&#8221; (Stop talking) I commanded angrily. The <i>syce</i> shrugged his bare shoulders and gave a hitch to his cotton <i>sarong</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuan, to-morrow New Year Day. Tuan, <i>mem</i> (lady) drive to Esplanade. Governor, general, all white tuans and mems there. Tuan Consul&#8217;s carriage not nice. Shall <i>syce</i> buy ribbons?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; I answered, tossing him the rest of the coppers, &#8220;and get a new one for your arm.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I had forgotten for the moment that it was the 31st of December. The <i>syce</i> touched his hand to his forehead and salaamed.
+
+</p>
+<p>Through the spaces of the protecting <i>chicks</i> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb221" href="#pb221">221</a>]</span>I caught glimpses of my Malay <i>kebun</i>, or gardener, squatting on his bare feet, with his bare knees drawn up under his armpits, hacking with a heavy knife at the
+short grass. The mottled crotons, the yellow allamanda and pink hibiscus bushes, the clump of Eucharist lilies, the great
+trailing masses of orchids that hung among the red flowers of the stately flamboyant tree by the green hedge, joined to make
+me forget the midwinter date on the calendar. The time seemed in my half-dream July in New York or August in Washington.
+
+</p>
+<p>Ah Minga, the &#8220;boy&#8221; in flowing pantalets and stiffly starched blouse, came silently along the wide veranda, with a cup of
+tea and a plate of opened mangosteens. I roused myself, and the dreams of sleighbells and ice on window-panes, that had been
+fleeting through my mind at the first mention of New Year&#8217;s Day by the <i>syce</i>, vanished.
+
+</p>
+<p>Ah Minga, too, mentioned, as he placed <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb222" href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>the cool, pellucid globes before me, &#8220;To-mollow New Year Dlay, Tuan!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>On Christmas Day, Ah Minga had presented the mistress with the gilded counterfeit presentment of a Joss. The servants, one
+and all, from Zim, the cookee, to the wretched Kling <i>dhobie</i> (wash-man), had brought some little remembrance of their Christian master&#8217;s great holiday.
+
+</p>
+<p>In respecting our customs, they had taken occasion to establish one of their own. They had adopted New Year&#8217;s as the day when
+their masters should return their presents and good will in solid cash.
+
+</p>
+<p>At midnight we were awakened by a regular Fourth of July pandemonium. Whistles from the factories, salvos from Fort Canning,
+bells from the churches, Chinese tom-toms, Malay horns, rent the air from that hour until dawn with all the discords of the
+Orient and a few from Europe. By daylight the thousands of natives from all quarters of the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb223" href="#pb223">223</a>]</span>peninsula and neighboring islands had gathered along the broad Ocean Esplanade of Singapore in front of the Cricket Club House,
+to take part in or watch the native sports by land and sea.
+
+</p>
+<p>The inevitable Chinaman was there, the Kling, the Madrasman, the Sikh, the Arab, the Jew, the Chitty, or Indian money-lender,&#8212;they
+were all there, many times multiplied, unconsciously furnishing a background of extraordinary variety and picturesqueness.
+
+</p>
+<p>At ten o&#8217;clock the favored representatives of the Anglo-Saxon race took their place on the great veranda of the Cricket Club,
+and gave the signal that we would condescend to be amused for ten hours. Then the show commenced. There were not over two
+hundred white people to represent law and civilization amid the teeming native population.
+
+</p>
+<p>In the centre of the beautiful esplanade or playground rose the heroic statue of Sir <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb224" href="#pb224">224</a>]</span>Stamford Raffles, the English governor who made Singapore possible. To my right, on the veranda, stood a modest, gray-haired
+little man who cleared the seas of piracy and insured Singapore&#8217;s commercial ascendency, Sir Charles Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak.
+A little farther on, surrounded by a brilliant suite of Malay princes, was the Sultan of Johore, whose father sold the island
+of Singapore to the British.
+
+</p>
+<p>The first of the sports was a series of foot-races between Malay and Kling boys, almost invariably won by the Malays, who
+are the North American Indians of Malaysia&#8212;the old-time kings of the soil. They are never, like the Chinese, mere beasts of
+burden, or great merchants, nor do they descend to petty trade, like the Indians or Bengalese. If they must work they become
+horsemen.
+
+</p>
+<p>Next came a jockey race, in which a dozen long-limbed Malays took each a five-year-old child astride his shoulders, and raced
+for <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb225" href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>seventy-five yards. There were sack-races and greased-pole climbing and pig-catching.
+
+</p>
+<p>Now came a singular contest&#8212;an eating match. Two dozen little Malay, Kling, Tamil, and Chinese boys were seated at regular
+intervals about an open circle by one of the governor&#8217;s aids. Not one could touch the others in any way. Each had a dry, hard
+ship-biscuit before him. A pistol shot and two dozen pairs of little brown fists went pit-a-pat on the two dozen hard biscuits,
+and in an instant the crackers were broken to powder.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then commenced the difficult task of forcing the powdered pulp down the little throats. Both hands were called into full play
+during the operation, one for crowding in, the other for grinding the residue and patting the stomach and throat. Each little
+competitor would shyly rub into the warm earth, or hide away in the folds of his many-colored <i>sarong</i>, as much as possible, or when <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb226" href="#pb226">226</a>]</span>a rival was looking the other way, would snap a good-sized piece across to him.
+
+</p>
+<p>The little brown fellow who won the fifty-cent piece by finishing his biscuit first simply put into his mouth a certain quantity
+of the crushed biscuit, and with little or no mastication pushed the whole mass down his throat by sheer force.
+
+</p>
+<p>The minute the contest was decided, all the participants, and many other boys, rushed to a great tub of molasses to duck for
+half-dollars. One after another their heads would disappear into the sticky, blinding mass, as they fished with their teeth
+for the shining prizes at the bottom.
+
+</p>
+<p>Successful or otherwise, after their powers were exhausted they would suddenly pull out their heads, reeking with the molasses,
+and make for the ocean, unmindful of the crowds of natives in holiday attire who blocked their way.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then came a jinrikisha race, with Chinese <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb227" href="#pb227">227</a>]</span>coolies pulling Malay passengers around a half-mile course. Letting go the handles of their wagons as they crossed the line,
+the coolies threw their unfortunate passengers over backward.
+
+</p>
+<p>Tugs of war, wrestling matches, and boxing bouts on the turf finished the land sports, and we all adjourned to the yachts
+to witness those of the sea. There were races between men-of-war cutters, European yachts, rowing shells, Chinese sampans,
+and Malay <i>colehs</i> with great, dart-like sails, so wide-spreading that ropes were attached to the top of the masts, and a dozen naked natives
+hung far out over the side of the slender boat to keep it from blowing over. In making the circle of the harbor they would
+spring from side to side of the boat, sometimes lost to our view in the spray, often missing their footholds, and dragging
+through the tepid water.
+
+</p>
+<p>Between times, while watching the races, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb228" href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>we amused ourselves throwing coppers to a fleet of native boys in small dugouts beneath our bows. Every time a penny dropped
+into the water, a dozen little bronze forms would flash in the sunlight, and nine times out of ten the coin never reached
+the bottom.
+
+</p>
+<p>Last of all came the trooping of the English colors on the magnificent esplanade, within the shadow of the cathedral; the
+march past of the sturdy British artillery and engineers, with their native allies, the Sikhs and Sepoys; then the <i>feu-de-joie</i>, and New Year&#8217;s was officially recognized by the guns of the fort.
+
+</p>
+<p>That night we danced at Government House,&#8212;we exiles of the Temperate Zone,&#8212;keeping up to the last the fiction that New Year&#8217;s
+Day under a tropic sky and within sound of the tiger&#8217;s wail was really January first. But every remembrance and association
+was, in our homesick thoughts, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb229" href="#pb229">229</a>]</span>grouped about an open arch fire, with the sharp, crisp creak of sleigh-runners outside, in a frozen land fourteen thousand
+miles away.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb230" href="#pb230">230</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch13" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">In the Burst of the Southwest Monsoon</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">A Tale of Changhi Bungalow</h2>
+<p>We had been out all day from Singapore on a wild-pig hunt. There were eight of us, including three young officers of the Royal
+Artillery, besides somewhere between seventy and a hundred native beaters. The day had been unusually hot, even for a country
+whose regular record on the thermometer reads 150 degrees in the sun.
+
+</p>
+<p>We had tramped and shot through jungle and <i>lallang</i> grass, until, when night came on, I was too tired to make the fourteen miles back across the island, and so decided to push
+on a mile farther to a government &#8220;rest bungalow.&#8221; I said good-by to my <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb231" href="#pb231">231</a>]</span>companions and the game, and accompanied only by a Hindu guide, struck out across some ploughed lands for the jungle road
+that led to and ended at Changhi.
+
+</p>
+<p>Changhi was one of three rest bungalows, or summer resorts, if one can be permitted to mention summer in this land of perpetual
+summer. They were owned and kept open by the Singapore Government for the convenience of travellers, and as places to which
+its own officials can flee from the cares of office and the demands of society. I had stopped at Changhi Bungalow once for
+some weeks when my wife and a party of friends and all our servants were with me. It was lonely even then, with the black
+impenetrable jungle crowding down on three sides, and a strip of the blinding, dazzling waters of the uncanny old Straits
+of Malacca in front.
+
+</p>
+<p>There were tigers and snakes in the jungle, and crocodiles and sharks in the Straits, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb232" href="#pb232">232</a>]</span>and lizards and other things in the bungalow. I thought of all this in a disjointed kind of a way, and half wished that I
+had stayed with my party. Then I noticed uneasily that some thick oily-looking clouds were blotting out the yellow haze left
+by the sun over on the Johore side. A few big hot drops of rain splashed down into my face, as I climbed wearily up the dozen
+cement steps of the house.
+
+</p>
+<p>The bamboo <i>chicks</i> were all down, and the shutter-doors securely locked from the inside, but there was a long rattan chair within reach, and
+I dropped into it with a sigh of satisfaction, while my guide went out toward the servant-quarters to arouse the Malay <i>mandor</i>, or head gardener, whom H. B. M.&#8217;s Government trusted with this portion of her East Indian possessions.
+
+</p>
+<p>As might have been expected, that high functionary was not to be found, and I was forced to content myself, while my guide
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb233" href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>went on to a neighboring native police station to make inquiries. I unbuttoned my stiff <i>kaki</i> shooting-jacket, lit a manila, which my mouth was too dry to smoke, and gazed up at the ceiling in silence.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was stiflingly hot. Even the cicadas in the great jungle tree, that towered a hundred and fifty feet above the house, were
+quiet. Every breath I took seemed to scorch me, and the balls of my eyes ached. The sky had changed to a dull cartridge color.
+
+</p>
+<p>A breeze came across the hot, glaring surface of the Straits, and stirred the tops of a little clump of palms, and died away.
+It brought with it the smell of rain.
+
+</p>
+<p>For a moment there was a dead stillness,&#8212;not even a lizard clucked on the wall back of me; then all at once the thermometer
+dropped down two or three degrees, and a tearing wind struck the bamboo curtains and stretched them out straight; the tops
+of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb234" href="#pb234">234</a>]</span>the massive jungle trees bent and creaked; there was a blinding flash and a roar of thunder, and all distance was lost in
+darkness and rain. It was one of the quick, fierce bursts of the southwest monsoon.
+
+</p>
+<p>I did not move, although wet to the skin.
+
+</p>
+<p>Presently I could make out three blurred figures fighting their way slowly against the storm across the compound. One was
+the guide; the second was the <i>mandor</i>, naked save for a cotton <i>sarong</i> around his waist; the third was a stranger.
+
+</p>
+<p>The trio came up on the veranda&#8212;the stranger hanging behind, with an apologetic droop of his head. He was a white man, in
+a suit of dirty, ragged linen. It took but one look to place him. I had seen hundreds of them &#8220;on the beach&#8221; in Singapore,&#8212;there
+could be no mistake. &#8220;Loafer&#8221; was written all over him&#8212;from his ragged, matted hair to the fringe on the bottom of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb235" href="#pb235">235</a>]</span>his trousers. He held a broken cork helmet, that had not seen pipe-clay for many a month, in his grimy hands, and scraped
+one foot and ducked his dripping head, as I turned toward him with a gruff,&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beg pardon, sir,&#8221; he said, in a harsh, rasping voice, &#8220;but I heard that the American Consul was here. I am an American.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He looked up with a watery leer in his eyes.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on,&#8221; I said, without offering to take the hand of my fellow-countryman.
+
+</p>
+<p>He let his arm fall to his side.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t got any passport; that went with the rest, and I never had the heart to ask for another.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He gave a bad imitation of a sob.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind the side play,&#8221; I commented, as he began to rumble in the bottomless pocket of his coat. &#8220;I will supply all that
+as you go along. What is it you want?&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb236" href="#pb236">236</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He withdrew his hand and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come in out of the rain and you won&#8217;t need to do that,&#8221; I said, amused at this show of feeling.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought as how you might give a countryman a lift,&#8221; he whined.
+
+</p>
+<p>I smiled and stepped to the door.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Boy, bring the gentleman a whiskey and soda.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The &#8220;boy&#8221; brought the liquor, while I commenced to unstrap and dry my Winchester.
+
+</p>
+<p>My fellow-countryman did not move, but stood nervously tottering from one leg to the other, as I went on with my task. He
+coughed once or twice to attract my attention.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beg pardon, sir, but I meant work&#8212;good, honest work. Work was what I wanted, to earn this very glass of whiskey for my little
+gal. She&#8217;s sick, sir, sick&#8212;sick in a hut at the station.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb237" href="#pb237">237</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Your little what?&#8221; I asked in amazement.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My little gal, sir. She&#8217;s all that&#8217;s left me. If you&#8217;ll trust me with the glass, I&#8217;ll take it to her. Can&#8217;t give you no security,
+I&#8217;m afraid, only the word of a broken-down old father, who has got a little gal what he loves better than life!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>My long experience with tramps and beach-combers was at fault. No words can convey an idea of the pathos and humility he threw
+into his tone and actions. The yearning of the voice, the almost divine air of self-abnegation, the subdued flash of pride
+here and there that suggested better days, the hopeless droop of the arms, and the irresolute tremble of the corners of his
+mouth would have appealed to the heart of a heathen idol. That one of his caste should refuse a glass of &#8220;Usher&#8217;s Best,&#8221; and
+be willing to brave the burst of a southwest monsoon to take it to any one&#8212;child, mother, or wife&#8212;was incredible.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb238" href="#pb238">238</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Drink it,&#8221; I said roughly. &#8220;You will need it before you get to the station. Boy, bring me my waterproof and an umbrella.
+Now out you go. We&#8217;ll see whether this &#8216;little gal&#8217; is male or female,&#8212;seven or seventy.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The loafer snatched up his helmet with an avidity that admitted of no question as to his earnestness.
+
+</p>
+<p>We made a wild rush down across the oozing compound, through a little strip of dripping jungle, over a swaying foot-bridge
+that spanned the muddy Sonji Changhi, and along the sandy floor of a cocoanut grove. On the outskirts of a station we came
+upon a deserted bungalow, that was trembling in the storm on its rotten supports.
+
+</p>
+<p>We went up its rickety ladder and across its open bamboo floor, to the darkest corner, where, on an old mat under the only
+dry spot in the hut, lay a bundle of rags.
+
+</p>
+<p>My companion dropped down among the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb239" href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>decayed stumps of pineapples and cocoanut refuse, and commenced to croon in a hoarse voice, &#8220;Daddy come,&#8212;Daddy come,&#8212;poor
+dearie,&#8221; and made a motion as though to put the bottle to a small, dirty white face that I could just make out among the rags.
+
+</p>
+<p>I pushed him aside and gathered the unconscious little burden up into my arms. There was no time for sentiment. Every minute
+I expected the miserable old shelter would go over.
+
+</p>
+<p>We made our way as best we could back through the darkness and driving blasts of rain. The loafer followed with a long series
+of &#8220;God bless you&#8217;s.&#8221; He essayed once or twice to hold the umbrella over his &#8220;little gal&#8217;s&#8221; head, but each time the wind turned
+it inside out, and he gave it up with an air of feeble inconsequence that characterized all his movements.
+
+</p>
+<p>I put my burden down on a couch in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb240" href="#pb240">240</a>]</span>dining room, and chafed her hands and feet, while the boy brought a beer bottle filled with hot water.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was a sweet little face, pinched and drawn, with big hazel eyes, that looked up into mine as my efforts sent the blood
+coursing through her veins. She was between five and six years old. A mass of dark brown hair, unkempt and matted, fell about
+her face and shoulders.
+
+</p>
+<p>I wrapped a rug about her. She was asleep almost before I had finished.
+
+</p>
+<p>A little later I roused her, and she nestled her damp little head against my shoulder as I gave her some soup; but her eyelids
+were heavy, and it seemed almost cruel to keep her awake, even for the food she so badly needed. The father had shuffled about
+uneasily during my motherly attentions, and seemed relieved when I was through.
+
+</p>
+<p>While the boy brought a steaming hot curry and a goodly supply of whiskey and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb241" href="#pb241">241</a>]</span>soda, I turned the self-confessed father of the big hazel eyes into the bath-room.
+
+</p>
+<p>With the grime and dirt off his face he was pale and haggard. There were big blue marks under his shifting gray eyes and his
+hair hung ragged and singed about his ears.
+
+</p>
+<p>He had discarded his dirty linen for a blue-flannel bathing-suit that some former high official of H. B. M. service had left
+behind. There were traces of starvation or dissipation in every movement. His hand trembled as he conveyed the hot soup to
+his blue lips.
+
+</p>
+<p>Gradually the color came back to his sunken cheeks, and by the time he had laid in the second plate of curry and drank two
+whiskey and sodas he looked comparatively sleek and respectable. Even his anxiety for the little sleeper seemed to fade out
+of his weak face.
+
+</p>
+<p>I had been watching him narrowly during the meal. I could not make up my mind <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb242" href="#pb242">242</a>]</span>whether he was a clever actor or only an unfortunate; he might be the latter, and still be what I was certain of,&#8212;a scamp.
+
+</p>
+<p>The wind whistled and roared about the great verandas and into the glassless windows with all the vehemence of a New England
+snowstorm. It caught our well-protected <i>punkah</i>-lamps, and turned their broad flames into spiral columns of smoke. Ever and again a flash of lightning flared in our eyes,
+and revealed the water of the narrow straits lashed into a white fury.
+
+</p>
+<p>I should have been thankful for the company of even a dog on such a night, and think the loafer felt it, for I could see that
+he was more at ease with every crash of thunder. I tiptoed over to the &#8220;little gal,&#8221; and noted her soft, regular breathing
+and healthful sleep, undisturbed by the fierce storm outside.
+
+</p>
+<p>I lit a manila, and handed one to my companion. We puffed a moment in silence, while the boy replenished our glasses.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb243" href="#pb243">243</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; I said, tipping my chair back against the wall, &#8220;tell me your story.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>My guest&#8217;s face at once assumed the expression of the professional loafer. My faith in him began to wane.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am an American,&#8221; he began glibly enough under the combined effects of the whiskey and dinner, &#8220;an old soldier. I fought
+with Grant in the Wilderness, and&#8212;&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; I interrupted, &#8220;and with Sherman in Georgia. I have heard it all by a hundred better talkers than you. Suppose
+you skip it.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I did not look up, but I was perfectly familiar with the expression of injured innocence that was mantling his face.
+
+</p>
+<p>He began again in a few minutes, but his voice had lost some of its engaging frankness.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am the son of a kind and indulgent mother,&#8212;God bless her. My father died before I knew him&#8212;&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I moved uneasily in my chair<span class="corr" id="xd0e3574" title="Not in source">.</span>
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb244" href="#pb244">244</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He hurried on:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I fell in bad ways in spite of her saintly love, and ran away to sea.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, my friend,&#8221; I said, &#8220;I am sorry to spoil your little tale, but it is an old one. Can&#8217;t you give me something new?
+Now try again.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He looked at me unsteadily under his thin eyebrows, shuffled restlessly in his seat, and said with something like a sob in
+his voice:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, sir, I will. You have been kind to me and taken my little gal in; you saved her life, and, for a change, I&#8217;ll tell
+you the truth.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He drew himself up a little too ostentatiously, threw his head back, and said proudly:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am a gentleman born.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good,&#8221; I laughed. &#8220;Now you are on the right track, and besides you look it.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah! you may sneer,&#8221; he retorted, &#8220;but I tell you the truth.&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb245" href="#pb245">245</a>]</span></p>
+<p>His face flushed and his lip quivered. He brought his fist down on the table.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tell you my father,&#8212;ah! but never mind my father.&#8221; His voice failed him.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; I replied. &#8220;Only get on with your story.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I came out to India from Boston as a young man,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;either in &#8217;66 or &#8217;68, I forget which.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Try &#8217;67,&#8221; I suggested.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was not &#8217;67,&#8221; he exclaimed angrily, &#8220;it was either &#8217;66 or &#8217;68.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or some other date. However, that&#8217;s but a detail. Proceed.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sir, you can make sport of me, but what I am telling you is God&#8217;s truth. May I be struck dead if one lie passes my lips.
+I came out to plant coffee; I thought, like many others, that I had only to cut down the jungle and put in coffee plants,
+and make my everlasting fortune.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And didn&#8217;t you?&#8221; I asked, glancing at <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb246" href="#pb246">246</a>]</span>his dilapidated old helmet that hung over the corner of the sideboard.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look at me!&#8221; he burst forth, springing upon his feet, his breast heaving under his blue pajamas.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pardon the question,&#8221; I answered. &#8220;Go on, you are doing bravely.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He sank back into his chair with a commendable air of dignity.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had a little money of my own,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;and opened up an estate. It promised well, but I soon came to the end of
+my small capital. I thought I could go to Calcutta and Bombay and Simla, and cultivate my mind by travel and society, while
+the bushes were growing. Well it ended in the same old way. I got into the <i>chitties&#8217;</i> hands&#8212;they are worse than Jews&#8212;at two per cent a month on a mortgage on my estate. Then I went back to it with a determination
+to pay up my debt, make my estate a success, and after that to see the world. I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb247" href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>worked, sir, like a nigger, and for a time was able to meet my naked creditor, from month to month, hoping all the time against
+hope for a bumper crop.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand,&#8221; I said. &#8220;Your bumper crop did not come, and your <i>chitty</i> did. Where does she come in?&#8221; I nodded in the direction of the little sleeper.
+
+</p>
+<p>He glanced uneasily in the same direction, and a tear gathered in his eye.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I married on credit, sir, the daughter of an English army officer. It was infernal. But, sir, you would have done likewise.
+Live under the burning sun of India for four years, struggle against impossibilities and hope against hope, and then have
+a pair of great hazel eyes look lovingly into yours and a pair of red lips turned up to yours,&#8212;and tell me if you would not
+have closed your eyes to the future, and accepted this precious gift as though it were sent from above?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The pale, shrunken face of the speaker <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb248" href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>glowed, and his faded eyes lit up with the light of love.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We were happy for a time, and the little gal was born, but the bumper crop did not come. Then, sir, I sold farm tools and
+my horse, and sent the wife to a hill station for her health. I kept the little gal. I stayed to work, as none of my natives
+ever worked. It was a gay station to which she went. You know the rest,&#8212;she never came back. That ended the struggle. I would
+have shot myself but for the little one. I took her and we wandered here and there, doing odd jobs for a few months at a time.
+I drifted down to Singapore, hoping to better myself, but, sir, I am about used up. It&#8217;s hard&#8212;hard.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He buried his head in his long, thin fingers, and sat perfectly still.
+
+</p>
+<p>There was a sound outside above the roar of the wind and the rain. At first faint and intermittent, it grew louder, and continuous,
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb249" href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>and came close. There was no mistaking it,&#8212;the march of booted men.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; asked my companion, with a start.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tommy Atkins,&#8221; I replied, &#8220;the clang of the ammunition boot as big as life.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>His face grew ashy white, and he looked furtively around the room.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; I exclaimed, but as I asked, I knew.
+
+</p>
+<p>I opened the bath-room door and shoved him in.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go in there&#8221; I said, &#8220;and compose some more fairy tales.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He was scarcely out of sight when the front door was thrown open, and a corporal&#8217;s guard, wet yet happy, marched into the
+room.
+
+</p>
+<p>The corporal stood with his back to the door, and gave himself mental words of command,&#8212;&#8220;Eyes left, eyes right,&#8221;&#8212;then, as
+a last resource,&#8212;&#8220;eyes under the table.&#8221; He had not noticed the little bundle in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb250" href="#pb250">250</a>]</span>dark corner. He drew himself up and gave the military salute.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beg pardon, sir, but we are out for a deserter from the 58th,&#8212;Bill Hulish,&#8212;we &#8217;ave tracked him &#8217;ere, and with the compliments
+of the commanding hofficer, we&#8217;ll search the &#8217;ouse.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Search away,&#8221; I answered, as I heard the outside bath-room door open and close softly.
+
+</p>
+<p>They returned empty-handed, but not greatly disappointed.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wet night, corporal,&#8221; I ventured.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;One of the worst as ever I knew, sir,&#8221; he replied, eying the whiskey bottle and the two half-drained glasses.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Ad a long march, sir, fourteen miles.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I pushed the bottle toward him, and with a deprecatory salute he turned out a stiff drink.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Ere&#8217;s to yer &#8217;ealth, sir, an&#8217; may ye always &#8217;ave an extra glass ready for a visitor.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I smiled, and motioned for his men to do <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb251" href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>likewise, and then, because he was a man of sweet composure and had not asked any questions as to the extra glass and chair,
+told him that his bird had flown.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bad &#8217;cess to him, sir, &#8217;e&#8217;s led us a pretty chase for these last four weeks. If &#8217;e was only a deserter I wouldn&#8217;t mind, but
+&#8217;e&#8217;s a kidnapper. Leastways, Tommy Loud&#8217;s young&#8217;n turned up missin&#8217; the day he skipped, an&#8217; we ain&#8217;t seen nothin&#8217; of &#8217;er since.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is this she?&#8221; I asked, leading him to the cot.
+
+</p>
+<p>Hardly looking at the child, he raised her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;God be praised, sir,&#8221; he said with a show of feeling. &#8220;We &#8217;ave got her back. I think her mother would &#8217;ave died if we &#8217;ad
+come back again without her,&#8212;but, O my little darlin&#8217;, you look cruel bad. Drugged, sir, that&#8217;s what she is. Drugged to keep
+&#8217;er quiet and save food. The blag&#8217;ard!&#8221;
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb252" href="#pb252">252</a>]</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But what did he take her for?&#8221; I asked.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bless you, sir,&#8221; replied the corporal, &#8220;she was his stock in trade. I reckon she&#8217;s drawn many dibs out of other people&#8217;s
+pockets that would &#8217;ave been nestlin&#8217; there to-day if it &#8217;adn&#8217;t &#8217;a&#8217; bin for &#8217;er.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Then a broad grin broke over his ruddy features, and he looked at me quizzically.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But &#8217;e was a great play hactor, sir.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And a poet,&#8221; I added enthusiastically.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;E could beat Kipling romancin&#8217;, sir.&#8221; He checked himself, as though ashamed of awarding such meed of praise to his ex-colleague.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But we must be goin&#8217;; orders strict. With your permission, sir, I will leave her with a guard of one man for to-night, and
+send the ambulance for her in the morning.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>He drew up his little file, saluted, and marched out into the rain and wind, with all the cheerfulness of a duck.
+
+</p>
+<p>I could hear them singing as they crossed <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb253" href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>the compound and struck into the jungle road:&#8212;
+
+
+</p>
+<div class="&#xA; poem&#xA; ">
+<p class="line" style=""><span>&#8220;Oh, it&#8217;s Tommy this, an&#8217; Tommy that, an&#8217; &#8216;Tommy, go away&#8217;;
+</span></p>
+<p class="line" style=""><span>But it&#8217;s &#8216;Thank you, Mister Atkins,&#8217; when the band begins to play,
+</span></p>
+<p class="line" style=""><span>The band begins to&#8212;&#8221;</span></p>
+</div>
+<p>A peal of thunder that shook the bungalow from its <i>attap</i> roof to its <i>nebong</i> pillars drowned the melody and drove me inside.
+
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb254" href="#pb254">254</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch14" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">A Pig Hunt</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">In the Malayan Jungle</h2>
+<p>The thermometer stood at 155 degrees in the sun. The dry <i>lallang</i> grass crackled and glowed and returned long irregular waves of heat to the quivering metallic dome above.
+
+</p>
+<p>The sensitive mimosa, at our feet, had long since surrendered to the fierce wooing of the sun-god, submissively folding its
+leaves and then its branches and putting aside its morning dress of green for one more in keeping with the color of the earth
+and sky. Even the clamorous cicada had hushed its insistent whir.
+
+</p>
+<p>We were dressed in brown <i>kaki</i> suits. Wide-spreading cork helmets were filled with the stiff varnished leaves of the mango, and wet handkerchiefs were draped
+from underneath <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb255" href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>their rims; yet, after an hour of exposure, our flesh ached&#8212;it was tender to the touch. The barrel of my Express scorched
+my hand, and I wrapped my <i>camerabuna</i> about it. But then it was no hotter than any other day. In fact, we never gave a thought to the weather.
+
+</p>
+<p>We were formed in a line, perhaps two miles in length, in a deserted pepper plantation, fronting a jungle of <i>timboso</i> trees and rubber-vines. I squatted patiently under the checkered shade of a neglected coffee tree and kept my eyes fixed
+on the seemingly impenetrable walls of the jungle. A hundred feet to the right and the left, under like protection, were two
+of my companions, determined like myself to be successful in three points,&#8212;to have the first shot at the pigs, to avoid getting
+shot, or shooting a neighbor. But our minds rose above mental cautions with the first faint halloos of the Hindu <i>shikaris</i> on the opposite side of the jungle. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb256" href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>In another moment the babel gave place to a confusion of shrieks, howls, yells, laughs, barking of dogs, beating of tins,
+blowing of horns, explosions of crackers, and a din that represents all that is wild and untamable in three nations. It is
+a weird, almost appalling prologue. Those laughs!&#8212;they are a study&#8212;they fairly chill the blood&#8212;they would make the fortune
+of a comic actor&#8212;so intense, thrilling, surprising, and seemingly filled with a ghoulish glee. Over and over they would break
+out clear and distinct above the <i>tintamarre</i>. I have never been able to find out whether it belongs to the Malay or the Kling or the Tamil.
+
+</p>
+<p>The yelling became more distinct. A troop of brown and silver <i>wah-wahs</i> swung with their long arms out to the very edge of the jungle and then up to the tops of the highest trees, the while uttering
+the full, clear note from which they take their name; followed by a troop of gray little jungle <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb257" href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>monkeys, whistling and scolding at the unwonted disturbance. A colony of cicadas on the limbs of a great <i>gutta</i> tree awoke into life and pierced our ears with buzz-saw strains.
+
+</p>
+<p>In an instant we were all alert,&#8212;the heat was forgotten. At any minute a herd of pigs might dart out and on to us, or possibly
+our drivers might rouse a tiger. The screaming ascended to a delirious pitch&#8212;the pigs were discovered! I threw my cartridge
+from the magazine into the barrel. It was a 50&times;95 Express and I had perfect confidence that one ball to a pig was sufficient.
+
+</p>
+<p>The yelling grew nearer until, with a sudden deploy, one hundred Klings and Malays dashed out into the open, close on the
+heels of a dozen wild pigs. We could just see their black backs above the grass, as they broke down a little ravine in single
+file, led by a big, hoary boar with tusks. They were <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb258" href="#pb258">258</a>]</span>three hundred yards off, but I could not resist the temptation. I brought my rifle to my shoulder and fired twice in rapid
+succession. Two or three more shots were heard beyond. I threw out the shells as the herd lunged on me. It was so sudden that
+I was dazed, but fortunately so were the pigs, with the exception of a wary old leader, who made into the jungle behind, almost
+between my legs. One little fellow threw himself on his haunches for an instant and stared at me. I came to my senses first
+and put a ball into his wondering eyes. My second shot was so near that it tore away a pound of meat from his shoulder and
+killed him instantly.
+
+
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<div class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p258.jpg" alt="A pig hunt in the jungle" width="458" height="720"><p class="figureHead">A pig hunt in the jungle</p>
+<p>&#8220;The wary old leader made into the jungle behind&#8221;</p>
+</div><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<p>The firing had opened up all along the line. The drivers were pushing in nearer and nearer, beating the grass and clumps of
+bushes, seemingly regardless of the widely flying balls. I suspect they held our prowess in contempt. I know they looked it,
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb259" href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>when it was discovered that out of the dozen pigs they had raised, we had allowed over half to escape. Then, too, their lives
+were insured, in a way; for they knew that their deaths would cost us twenty big Mexican dollars.
+
+</p>
+<p>Pig-hunting is the one big-game hunt that can be indulged in on the Malay Peninsula without great preparation and danger.
+Deer and tapirs are scarce. Tigers, or <i>harimau</i> as the Malays call them, abound, but live in the depths of the almost inaccessible jungle, and come forth only at rare intervals,
+except in the case of the man-eaters, who are usually ignominiously caught in pitfalls, very seldom affording true sport.
+Elephants are still hunted in the native states north of Singapore, but the sport is too expensive for the generality of sportsmen.
+One of the peculiar attributes of the Malayan tiger is his decided <i>penchant</i> for Chinese flesh, repeatedly striking down Chinese <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb260" href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>coolies in the fields to the exclusion of the Malays or Europeans who are working by their side. Perhaps once a month, a tiger
+or his skin will be brought into the city by natives, and several times at night I have heard them in the jungle; but to my
+knowledge only three have been shot by European sportsmen during my residence in the island. So wild pigs really remain the
+one item of big game.
+
+</p>
+<p>The pigs live in the jungle bordering plantations in which they can range for pineapples, sweet potatoes, and tapioca root.
+They are the ordinary wild hog, black in color, and fleet of foot. The older ones have good-sized tusks and show fight when
+cornered. The lone sportsman has very little chance of obtaining a shot, so they are hunted in large companies of from five
+to fifteen guns. Such parties generally organize a hunt at least once a week and leave Singapore early in the morning for
+an all-day shoot.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb261" href="#pb261">261</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The pig hunts organized by the officers of the Royal Artillery are the largest, and as a description of one is a description
+of all, I will take one up in regular order, rather than quote from many.
+
+</p>
+<p>We left Singapore at six o&#8217;clock in the morning in a four-horse dray. As the sun had not reached the tops of the trees, the
+atmosphere was mild and pleasant. A half-hour took us outside the great cosmopolitan city, of three hundred thousand inhabitants.
+The low, cool bungalows with their wide-spreading lawns gave place to the grass-thatched huts of the Chinese coolies, and
+the omnipresent eating-stalls. A hard-packed road carried us through almost endless cocoanut groves. At intervals a Malay
+<i>kampong</i>, or village, was revealed in the heart of the grove, its queer <i>attap</i>-thatched houses raised a man&#8217;s height from the ground, and connected with it by rickety ladders. Dozens of nude little children
+played under the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb262" href="#pb262">262</a>]</span>shadow of the palms, while the comely faces and <i>syrah</i>-stained teeth of their mothers peeped at us from behind low barred windows. The cocoanut groves were superseded by tapioca,
+pepper, and coffee plantations. At regular distances were neat stations, manned by Malay and Sikh police. The roads over which
+we dashed were in perfect repair. In another hour we were nine miles from Singapore and near our first &#8220;beat.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Major Rich had sent his <i>shikaris</i> on the night before to collect beaters, so that when we arrived we were welcomed by a small army of Klings, Tamils, and Malays,
+and the usual sprinkling of pariah dogs. A wild, strange set are these beaters. They toil not, neither do they spin. Their
+wives do that occasionally, making a few <i>sarongs</i> for home use and an odd one for the market. Cocoanuts, pineapples, a little patch of paddy with a dozen half-wild chickens,
+and perchance, if they are not Mohammedans, a pig with its <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb263" href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>litter, afford them sustenance. For their day&#8217;s beating they were to receive fifteen cents apiece. They were all ranged in
+line and counted, after which we took up our march through a plantation of tapioca, the brush standing about level with our
+heads. Chinese coolies were working about its roots keeping down the great pest of Malayan farmers,&#8212;<i>lallang</i> grass. The tapioca was broken in places by a few acres of pepper vines and again by neglected coffee shrubs.
+
+</p>
+<p>Our procession was truly formidable. Fifty or more natives went on ahead making a path. Then we followed, fifteen in number,
+each with a native to carry his gun. The rear was brought up by twoscore more and half as many dogs. Three-quarters of an
+hour&#8217;s walk brought us to our first beat. The head <i>shikaris</i> placed us in an open position, from fifty to one hundred yards apart, facing the jungle. The beaters, in the meantime, had
+gone by a long detour <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb264" href="#pb264">264</a>]</span>around the jungle to drive whatever it contained within reach of our guns.
+
+</p>
+<p>In the second of these beats (I described the first in the opening of this chapter) a deer ran out far in advance of the pigs.
+We caught but a fleeting glimpse of it above the grass. My gun and that of my neighbor went off simultaneously. The deer disappeared.
+We rushed to the spot and found the leaves dyed with blood. Then commenced a chase, which, although fruitless, was well worth
+the exertion. All the panorama of tropical life seemed to lay in our tracks. For an half-hour we traversed the rolling plain
+with its burden of grass. Some smoker dropped a match in it, and in an instant it was all ablaze, spreading away like a whirlwind,
+burning only the very tips, toward a distant jungle. Then we dove into a bosky wood by a narrow winding path, and through
+a stream of water. The path was like a tunnel, the dense foliage <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb265" href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>shutting it in on both sides and above. The thorns of the rattans reached down and tore our clothes, and long trailing rubber-vines
+caught up our helmets and held our feet. In a marshy bit of jungle, a small colony of unwieldy sago palms found root, while
+pitcher-plants and orchids hung from almost every limb. Clumsy gray iguanas and long-tailed lizards of a brilliant green rushed
+up the trunks of lichen-covered trees. Troops of monkeys went scattering away on all sides, and black squirrels chattered
+on in the perfect security of the dim obscurity. In a bit of sandy bottom, a silken-haired, zebra-striped tapir scuttled away
+ere we were half alive to his presence.
+
+</p>
+<p>Outside was the metallic glare of the Malayan sun once more, now at its height, and another march was before us, over the
+burning hot <i>m&eacute;sa</i>. At one o&#8217;clock we came upon a half-neglected plantation. The bloody trail of the deer led through it. In the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb266" href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>centre of the plantation we found a huge wedge-shaped <i>attap</i> house for drying pepper, and there we rested.
+
+</p>
+<p>Our tiffin baskets were six miles away in the dray, and sending after them was out of the question. So we foraged for eatables.
+Cocoanuts were easily obtained from trees all about, and a little whiskey mixed with its milk made a very refreshing drink.
+Pineapples, small oranges, limes, papayas, custard apples, and bananas were in large quantities. Our drivers added to this
+bill of fare by roasting the sweet-potato-like roots of the tapioca. After this impromptu lunch they compounded their quids
+of areca-nut and lime, and were ready once more to beat up an adjacent jungle for deer, pig, or tiger.
+
+</p>
+<p>As before, we were soon in position in the open before the jungle and the beaters were yelling at the top of their voices.
+
+</p>
+<p>I was half dozing in the sun, trying to smoke a Manila cigar that my mouth was <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb267" href="#pb267">267</a>]</span>too dry to draw, when I was aroused by my neighbor, who called my attention to a file of pigs at the extreme end of the line.
+I could just see what was going on from the knoll on which I was standing. They were received by Major Rich, one of his subalterns,
+and his Hindu gun-carrier. One of the file fell at the first volley, two more broke through the line, and the remaining six
+or seven, led by a fierce old fellow, from whose long tusks the foam dripped, turned up the line and charged point-blank on
+the next gunner, who fired and missed, but succeeded in keeping them between the line and the jungle. The fourth gun brought
+down the second pig and wounded the boar in the shoulder. Frantic with rage and pain, the old fellow tore up the ground and
+grass with his tusks and then, seeming to give up all idea of escape, wheeled sharply around and with his back bristles standing
+erect and his mouth open, charged directly on to the fifth, who was in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb268" href="#pb268">268</a>]</span>the act of throwing the cartridge into the barrel. Taken completely by surprise, the officer gave one lusty yell and started
+to run in line with the gun on his right. The boar was gaining on him at every step when he tripped and fell. The report of
+No. 6&#8217;s Winchester Express rang out almost simultaneously. For an instant we held our breaths, wondering whether the man or
+boar had been hit. It was a splendid shot and took a steady hand. The boar&#8217;s shoulder was shattered and his heart reached.
+Two or three angry grunts and he lay quiet. He weighed close to three hundred pounds. The bristles on his back were white
+with age. All in all, he was not nice to look at.
+
+</p>
+<p>As half of our beaters were <span class="corr" id="xd0e3870" title="Source: Mohammedams">Mohammedans</span> and so forbidden to touch pork, the burden of carrying our pigs the six miles through <i>lallang</i> grass, jungle and swamp land, came hard on our Brahmists. We knew that the only way to make them work <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb269" href="#pb269">269</a>]</span>was to call them &#8220;Sons of dogs&#8221; and walk off and leave them with a parting injunction to &#8220;get in by the time we did if they
+wanted their wages.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>This we did without deigning to notice their pathetic gestures, heart-rending appeals and protestations to the &#8220;Sons of the
+Heaven-Born&#8221; that they could not lift one hundredth part of such burdens.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb270" href="#pb270">270</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch15" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">In the Court of Johore</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">The Crowning of a Malayan Prince</h2>
+<p>Tunku Ibrahim was just past seventeen when his father, the Sultan Abubaker, chose to recognize him as his heir and Crown Prince
+of Johore.
+
+</p>
+<p>From the day when the little prince had been deemed old enough to leave his mother and the women&#8217;s palace until the day he
+had entered the native artillery as a lieutenant, he had been schooled and trained by the English missionaries and the Tuan
+Kadi, or Mohammedan high priest, as becomes a son of so illustrious a father.
+
+</p>
+<p>Tunku Ibrahim had made one trip to England when he was fifteen years old, and with his little cousin, the <i>Tunku</i>, or Prince, Othman, had dined with the Queen at Windsor.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb271" href="#pb271">271</a>]</span></p>
+<p>So, when the Sultan returned from a long stay at Carlsbad and found that the Sultana was dead and that Ibrahim had shot up
+into a man, he said:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am getting to be an old man and may die at any time. I will call all my nobles and people to the palace, and they shall
+see me place the crown on Ibrahim&#8217;s head. Then if I die, he will rule, and the British will not take his country from him
+as long as he is wise and kingly.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Whereupon his Highness sent out invitations to the Governor and all the foreign consuls in Singapore to be his guests and
+witness the crowning of his son.
+
+</p>
+<p>We started in quaint little box-like carriages, called <i>gharries</i>, long before the fierce Malayan sun had risen above the palms, accomplishing the fourteen miles across the beautiful island
+in little over an hour.
+
+</p>
+<p>The diminutive Deli ponies, not larger than Newfoundland dogs, broke into a run the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb272" href="#pb272">272</a>]</span>moment we closed the lattice doors, and it was all their half-naked drivers could do to keep their perches on the swaying
+shafts.
+
+</p>
+<p>When we arrived at the little half-Malay, half-Chinese village of Kranji, on the shores of the famous old Straits of Malacca,
+our ponies were panting with heat, and the sun beat down on our white cork helmets with a quivering, naked intensity.
+
+</p>
+<p>Close up to the shore we found a long, keel boat manned by a dozen Malays in canary-colored suits. An aide-de-camp in a gorgeous
+uniform of gold and blue came forward and touched his forehead with the back of his brown palm and said in good English:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;His Highness awaits your excellencies.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>We stepped into the boat. The men lightly dipped their spear-shaped paddles in the tepid water, the rattan oarlocks squeaked
+shrilly, and the light prow shot out into the strait. We could see the <i>istana</i>, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb273" href="#pb273">273</a>]</span>or palace, close down to the opposite shore, with the royal standard of white, with black star and crescent in centre, floating
+above it.
+
+</p>
+<p>For a moment I felt as though I had invaded some dreamland of my childhood.
+
+</p>
+<p>As our boat drew up to the iron pier that extended from the broad palace steps out into the straits, the guns from the little
+fort on the hill above the town boomed out a welcome and the flags of our several countries were run to the tops of the poles.
+A squad of native soldiers presented arms, and we were conducted up the stone steps, to the cool, dim corridors of the reception
+or waiting room. Malays in red fezzes and silken <i>sarongs</i> that hung about their legs like skirts conducted us along a marble hall to our rooms in a wing of the palace. Crowds were
+already gathering outside on the palace grounds, and we could look down from our windows and watch them as we bathed, dressed,
+and drank tea.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb274" href="#pb274">274</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The Chinese in their holiday pantaloons and shirts of pink, lavender, and blue silk: outnumbered all the other races; for,
+strange as it may seem, this Malay Sultan numbers among his 250,000 or 300,000 subjects 175,000 Chinamen. They are as loyal
+and a great deal more industrious than the Malays, and many of them, styled <i>Baboos</i>, do not even know their native tongue.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Malays, dressed in gayly colored <i>sarongs</i> and <i>bajus</i> (jackets), with little rimless caps on their heads, squatted on their heels and chewed betel-nut, with eyes half closed and
+mouths distended.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Arab traders and shopkeepers were grouped about in little knots, gravely conversing and watching the files of <i>gharries</i> or carriages, and even rickshaws, that were bringing Malay <i>unkus</i> (princes not of the royal blood), <i>patos</i> (peers), holy men, and rich Chinese mandarins to the steps that led up to the plaza before the throne-room.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb275" href="#pb275">275</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The palace was two stories high, long and narrow. The interior rooms were separated from the outer walls by wide, airy corridors.
+The lattice-work windows were without glass and were arranged to admit the breezes from the ocean and ward off the searching
+rays of the equatorial sun. In these dusky corridors were long rattan chairs, divans, and tables covered with refreshments,
+and along its walls were arranged weapons of war and chase, Japanese suits of straw armor, Javanese shields, and Malay <i>krises</i> and <i>limbings</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>In a little court at the end of our corridor, where a fountain splashed over a clump of lotus flowers and blue water lilies,
+a long-armed silver <i>wah-wah</i> monkey played with a black Malay cat that had a kink in its tail like the joint in a stovepipe, and chased the clucking little
+gray lizards up the polished walls.
+
+</p>
+<p>The gorgeous aide stared in poorly concealed wonderment, when he entered to conduct <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb276" href="#pb276">276</a>]</span>us to the grand salon, at my plain evening dress suit, destitute 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 &#8220;Jeffersonian simplicity.&#8221; He would have shrugged his narrow shoulders,
+which would have meant, &#8220;When you are among Romans, you should do as Romans do.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>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.
+
+</p>
+<p>Velvet carpets from Holland, divans from Turkey, rugs from Bokhara, tapestries from Persia, and lace from France mingle with
+embroideries from China, cut glass from England, and rare old Satsuma ware from Japan. On a grand square German piano <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb277" href="#pb277">277</a>]</span>is a mass of music in which the masterpieces of all countries have equal rights with the national anthem of Johore.
+
+</p>
+<p>Going directly through a mass of Oriental drapery, we are in the throne-room, where are gathered the nobility of the little
+Sultanate.
+
+</p>
+<p>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 nobility of
+the kingdom, the ministers of state, and officers of the army and navy, the space back of them being filled with Chinese mandarins
+and <i>towkoys</i>, and rich native merchants in their picturesque costumes. In front of the nobility, standing in the form of a square, were
+the sons of the <i>datos</i> each bearing golden, jewel-studded <i>chogans</i>, spears, <i>krises,</i> and maces. Inside the square stood the fifteen <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb278" href="#pb278">278</a>]</span>consuls. Back of the throne were four young princes, two bearing each the golden bejewelled <i>kris</i> of the Malay, another the golden sword of state, and the fourth the cimeter of the Prophet.
+
+</p>
+<p>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&#8217;s hand.
+
+</p>
+<p>Above our heads in the gilded walls, behind a grated opening, were Inche Kitega, the Sultan&#8217;s beautiful Circassian 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 <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb279" href="#pb279">279</a>]</span>people if they wished the young <i>Tunku</i> to be their future lord that we could hear their shrill voices mingling with the &#8220;<i>Suku, suku</i>&#8221; (&#8220;We wish it, we wish it&#8221;), of the men.
+
+</p>
+<p>It is only the wives of the nobles that are secluded in the <i>istana isaras</i>, 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 <i>kamooning</i> wood each week keep them supplied with their one article of dress&#8212;the <i>sarong</i>. 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 <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb280" href="#pb280">280</a>]</span>little thatched mosques, they fall on their faces and pray to &#8220;Allah, the All Merciful and Loving Kind.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>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 Johore,&#8212;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,&#8212;how its ruler was looked up to and made treaties with, by the
+kings of Europe,&#8212;of the coming of the thieving Portuguese and the brutal Dutch,&#8212;of the dark, bloody years when the deposed
+descendants of the once proud Emperors of Johore turned to piracy,&#8212;of the new days that commenced when that great Englishman,
+Sir Stamford Raffles, founded Singapore,&#8212;down <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb281" href="#pb281">281</a>]</span>to the glorious reign of the present just ruler, Abubaker.
+
+</p>
+<p>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 stalactites. The fan-shaped, water-hoarding traveller&#8217;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.
+
+</p>
+<p>The brilliant audience listened with bated <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb282" href="#pb282">282</a>]</span>breath to the dramatic recital of their nation&#8217;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 Johore
+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.
+
+</p>
+<p>After his Highness, the Sultan, had spoken, through the mouth of his Prime Minister, to the nobles, and commended his son
+to their care, we crowded forward and congratulated him in the names of our respective countries.
+
+</p>
+<p>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, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb283" href="#pb283">283</a>]</span>across the marble reception room, and into the open doors of the royal dining room.
+
+</p>
+<p>From its polished ceiling of black billion wood hung great white <i>punkahs</i>, which half-nude Indians on the outside kept gently swaying back and forth.
+
+</p>
+<p>In the centre of the vast table stood a golden urn filled with delicate maidenhair ferns and dragon orchids. Against a great
+plate-glass mirror, at the far end, rested massive salvers of gold, engraven with the arms of Johore, and in its flawless
+depths shone the jewels that decked the entering throng and the splendid service of plate that dazzled our eyes.
+
+</p>
+<p>Around his Highness&#8217;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 button of his coat and low-cut vest was a diamond, and from
+the front of his rimless cap waved a plume of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb284" href="#pb284">284</a>]</span>diamonds. On his wrists were heavy gold bracelets of Malayan workmanship, and his fingers were cramped with almost priceless
+rings. In his buttonhole blazed a diamond orchid. The handle and scabbard of his sword were a solid mass of precious stones.
+Altogether this little known Oriental potentate possessed $10,000,000 worth of diamonds, the second largest collection on
+earth.
+
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>sarong</i> and a rimless black cap.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb285" href="#pb285">285</a>]</span></p>
+<p>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, sturdy 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.
+
+</p>
+<p>His three hundred ton steam-launch was built on the Clyde. Besides the Sultan&#8217;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.
+
+</p>
+<p>The revenue of Johore amounts to six million dollars a year, to which the Sultan&#8217;s <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb286" href="#pb286">286</a>]</span>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&#8217;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.
+
+</p>
+<p>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.
+
+</p>
+<p>The government is autocratic, but tempered and kept in sympathy with the English <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb287" href="#pb287">287</a>]</span>ideas of justice as seen in the great colonies that surround it.
+
+</p>
+<p>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&#8217;s kitchen, justly boasts of the excellence of his curry and the number
+of <i>sambuls</i> he can make.
+
+</p>
+<p>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 <i>sambuls</i>, or condiments, more than forty varieties, in little circular dishes of Japanese ware on big silver trays. There were fish-roes,
+ginger, and dried fish, or &#8220;Bombay duck,&#8221; duck&#8217;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 <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb288" href="#pb288">288</a>]</span>stirred into the spongy rice until your taste was baffled and your senses bewildered.
+
+</p>
+<p>We knew that the curry was coming, so we passed courses that were as expensive and rare in this equatorial land as the fruit
+of the <i>durians</i> would be in New York,&#8212;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.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This service,&#8221; said the old Tuan Hakim, or chief justice, pointing to the gold plate off which we were dining, &#8220;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&#8217;s name. His Highness telegraphed
+to her for the money to pay for it, and she <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb289" href="#pb289">289</a>]</span>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.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>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 glass 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&#8217;s heart,&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Queen!&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your people think all Orientals very bad.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I protested.
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, you do; that is why you send so many missionaries among us. But,&#8221; he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb290" href="#pb290">290</a>]</span>went on pleasantly, &#8220;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?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Then he raised his glass once more to his lips and said quietly, while his eyes twinkled at my confusion:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell your great President that Abubaker, Sultan of Johore, drank his health in simple pineapple juice.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>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 &#8220;God Save the Queen,&#8221; &#8220;My Country, &#8217;tis of Thee,&#8221; and bared
+our heads to the royal standard of Johore that floated so proudly above the palace, thankful for this short peep into the
+heart of an Oriental court.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>So the young Prince received the crown from the hands of his father. To-day, the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb291" href="#pb291">291</a>]</span>bones of that grand old statesman, the Sultan of Johore, rest beside those of his royal fathers within the shadow of the mosque.
+
+</p>
+<p>In 1819 when Sir Stamford Raffles purchased the island on which Singapore now stands from the father of the late Sultan of
+Johore, 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 <i>praus</i>, and the snake-like <i>kris</i> menaced the merchant marine of the world.
+
+</p>
+<p>The advancement of the United States has not been more rapid since that date than the advancement of Johore. The <i>attap istana</i>, 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
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb292" href="#pb292">292</a>]</span>roads and projected railways; and the native <i>praus</i>, to English-built barks and deeply laden cargo steamers.
+
+</p>
+<p>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.
+
+</p>
+<p>It remains to be seen whether the young Sultan will follow in the footsteps of his father and preserve to Johore 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.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb293" href="#pb293">293</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch16" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">In the Golden Chersonese</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">A Peep at the City of Singapore</h2>
+<p>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.
+
+</p>
+<p>Neither the buildings, the people, or the vehicles would aid him in the least to decide.
+
+</p>
+<p>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 glassless windows great white <i>punkahs</i> swing back and forth with a ceaseless regularity. Standing outside of each window, a tall, graceful <i>punkah-wallah</i> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb294" href="#pb294">294</a>]</span>tugs at a rattan withe, his naked limbs shining like polished ebony in the fierce glare of the Malayan sun.
+
+</p>
+<p>For a moment, perhaps, the boy thinks himself in India, possibly at Simla, for he has read some of Rudyard Kipling&#8217;s stories.
+
+</p>
+<p>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 assortment
+of wares, fez caps, brass finger-bowls, a praying rug, a few boxes of Japanese 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.
+
+</p>
+<p>The merchant gathers his flowing party-colored robes about him, tightens the turban head, and draws calmly at his water-pipe
+while a bevy of Hindu and Tamil <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb295" href="#pb295">295</a>]</span>women bargain for a new stud for their noses, a showy amulet, or a silver ring for their toes.
+
+</p>
+<p>Squatting right in the way of all passers is a Chinese travelling restaurant that looks like two flour barrels, one filled
+with drawers, the other containing a small charcoal fire. The old <i>cookee</i>, with his queue tied neatly up about his shaven head, takes a variety of mixtures from the drawers,&#8212;bits of dried fish, seaweed,
+a handful of spaghetti, possibly a piece of shark&#8217;s fin, or better still a lump of bird&#8217;s nest, places them in the kettle,
+as he yells from time to time, &#8220;<i>Machen, machen</i>&#8221; (eating, eating).
+
+</p>
+<p>Next to the Arab booth is a Chinese lamp shop, then a European dry-goods store, an Armenian law office, a Japanese bazaar,
+a foreign consulate.
+
+</p>
+<p>A babble of strange sounds and a jargon of languages salute the astonished boy&#8217;s ears.
+
+</p>
+<p>In the broad well-paved streets about him a Malay <i>syce</i>, or driver, is trying to urge his <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb296" href="#pb296">296</a>]</span>spotted Deli pony, which is not larger than a Newfoundland dog, in between a big, lumbering two-wheeled bullock-cart, laden
+with oozing bags of vile-smelling gambier, and a great patient water buffalo that stands sleepily whipping the gnats from
+its black, almost hairless hide, while its naked driver is seated under the trees in the square quarrelling and gambling by
+turns.
+
+</p>
+<p>The <i>gharry</i>, which resembles a dry-goods box on wheels, set in with latticed windows, smashes up against the ponderous hubs of the bullock-cart.
+The meek-eyed bullocks close their eyes and chew their cuds, regardless of the fierce screams of the Malay or the frenzied
+objurgations of their driver.
+
+</p>
+<p>But no one pays any attention to the momentary confusion. A party of Jews dressed in robes of purple and red that sweep the
+street pass by, without giving a glance at the wild plunging of the half-wild pony. A Singhalese jeweller is showing his rubies
+and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb297" href="#pb297">297</a>]</span>cat&#8217;s-eyes to a party of Eurasian, or half-caste clerks, that are taking advantage of their master&#8217;s absence from the godown
+to come out into the court to smoke a Manila cigarette and gossip. The mottled tortoise-shell comb in the vender&#8217;s black hair,
+and his womanish draperies, give him a feminine aspect.
+
+</p>
+<p>An Indian <i>chitty</i>, or money-lender, stands talking to a brother, supremely unconscious of the eddying throng about. These <i>chitties</i> are fully six feet tall, with closely shaven heads and nude bodies. Their dress of a few yards of gauze wound about their
+waists, and red sandals, would not lead one to think that they handle more money than any other class of people in the East.
+They borrow from the great English banks without security save that of their caste name, and lend to the Eurasian clerks just
+behind them at twelve per cent a month. If a <i>chitty</i> fails, he is driven out of the caste and becomes a pariah. The caste make up his losses.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb298" href="#pb298">298</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Dyaks from Borneo idle by. Parsee merchants in their tall, conical hats, Chinese rickshaw runners and cart coolies, Tamil
+road-menders, Bugis, Achinese, Siamese, Japanese, Madras serving-men, negro firemen, Lascar sailors, throng the little square,&#8212;the
+agora of the commercial life of the city.
+
+</p>
+<p>Such is Singapore, embracing all the races of Asia and Europe. Is it any wonder that the American boy is bewildered, standing
+there under the great banian tree with a Malay in <i>sarong</i> and <i>kris</i> by his side, singing with his <i>syrah</i>-stained lips the glorious promises of the Koran?
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>Look on the map of Asia for the southernmost point of the continent, and you will find it at the tip of the Malay Peninsula,&#8212;a
+giant finger that points down into the heart of the greatest archipelago in the world. At the very end of this peninsula,
+like a sort of cut-off joint of the finger, is the little island <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb299" href="#pb299">299</a>]</span>of Singapore, which is not over twenty-five miles from east to west, and does not exceed fifteen miles in width at its broadest
+point.
+
+</p>
+<p>The famous old Straits of Malacca, which were once the haunts of the fierce Malayan pirates, separate the island from the
+mainland and the Sultanate of Johore.
+
+</p>
+<p>The shipping that once worked its way through these narrow straits, in momentary fear that its mangrove-bound shores held
+a long, swift pirate <i>prau</i>, now goes further south and into the island-guarded harbor before Singapore.
+
+</p>
+<p>Nothing can be more beautiful than the sea approach to Singapore. As you enter the Straits, the emerald-green of a bevy of
+little islands obstructs the vision, and affords a grateful relief to the almost blinding glare of the Malayan sky, and the
+metallic reflections of the ocean.
+
+</p>
+<p>Some seem only inhabited by a graceful waving burden of strange, tropical foliage, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb300" href="#pb300">300</a>]</span>by a band of chattering monkeys; on others you detect a Malay <i>kampong</i>, or village, its umbrella-like houses of <i>attap</i>, close down to the shore, built high up on poles, so that half the time their boulevards are but vast mud-holes, the other
+half&#8212;Venice, filled with a moving crowd of <i>sampans</i> and fishing <i>praus</i>. A crowd of bronzed, naked little figures sport within the shadow of a maze of drying nets, and flee in consternation as
+the black, log-like head and cruel, watchful eyes of a crocodile glide quietly along the mangrove roots.
+
+</p>
+<p>On another island you discern the grim breastworks and the frowning mouth of a piece of heavy ordnance.
+
+</p>
+<p>Soon the island of Singapore reveals itself in a long line of dome-like hills and deep-cut shadows, whose stolid front quickly
+dissolves. The tufted tops of a sentinel palm, the wide-spreading arms of the banian, clumps of green and yellow bamboo, and
+the fan-shaped <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb301" href="#pb301">301</a>]</span>outlines of the traveller&#8217;s palm become distinguishable. As the great, red, tropical sun rises from behind the encircling
+hills, the monotony of the foliage is relieved in places by objects which it all but hid from view. The granite minaret of
+the Mohammedan mosque, the carved dome of a Buddhist temple, the slender spire of an English cathedral, the bold projections
+of Government House, and the wide, white sides of the Municipal buildings all hold the eye.
+
+</p>
+<p>Then a maze of strange shipping screens the nearing shore&#8212;the military masts and yards of British and Dutch men-of-war, the
+high-heeled, shoe-like lines of Chinese junks, innumerable Malay and Kling <i>sampans</i>, and great, unwieldy Borneo <i>tonkangs</i>.
+
+</p>
+<p>For six miles along the wharves and for six miles back into the island extend the municipal limits of the city. Two hundred
+thousand people live within these limits; while outside, over the rest of the island <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb302" href="#pb302">302</a>]</span>along the sea-coast, in fishing villages, and in the interior on plantations of tapioca and pepper, live a hundred thousand
+more. Of these three hundred thousand over one hundred and seventy thousand are Chinese and only fifteen hundred are Europeans.
+
+</p>
+<p>Grouped about Raffles Square, and facing the Bund, are the great English, German, and Chinese houses that handle the three
+hundred million dollars&#8217; worth of imports and exports that pass in and out of the port yearly, and make Singapore one of the
+most important marts of the commercial world.
+
+</p>
+<p>Beyond, and back from the Square, is Tanglin, or the suburbs, where the government officials and the heads of these great
+firms live in luxurious bungalows, surrounded by a swarm of retainers.
+
+</p>
+<p>Let us drive from Raffles Square through this cosmopolitan city and out to Tanglin. Beginning at Cavanagh Bridge, at one end
+of which stands the great Singapore Club <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb303" href="#pb303">303</a>]</span>and the Post Office, is the ocean esplanade,&#8212;the pride of the city. It encloses a public playground of some fifteen acres,
+reclaimed from the sea at an expense of over two hundred thousand dollars. Every afternoon when the heat of the day has fallen
+from 150&deg; to 80&deg;, the European population meets on this esplanade park to play tennis, cricket, and football, and to promenade,
+gossip, and listen to the music of the regimental or man-of-war band.
+
+</p>
+<p>The drive from the sea, up Orchard Road to the Botanic Gardens, carries you by all the diversified life of the city. The Chinese
+restaurant is omnipresent. By its side sits a naked little bit of bronze, with a basket of sugar-cane&#8212;each stick, two feet
+long, cleaned and scraped, ready for the hungry and thirsty rickshaw coolies, who have a few quarter cents with which to gratify
+their appetites. On every veranda and in every shady corner are the Kling and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb304" href="#pb304">304</a>]</span>Chinese barbers. They carry their barber-shops in a kit or in their pockets, and the recipient of their skill finds a seat
+as best he may. The barber is prepared to shave your head, your face, trim your hair, braid your queue, and pull the hairs
+out of your nose and ears.
+
+</p>
+<p>There is no special quarter for separate trades. Madras tailor shops rub shoulders with Malay blacksmith shops, while Indian
+wash-houses join Manila cigar manufactories.
+
+</p>
+<p>Once past the commercial part of the ride, the great bungalows of the European and Chinese merchants come into view. The immediate
+borders of the road itself reveal nothing but a dense mass of tropical verdure and carefully cut hedges, but at intervals
+there is a wide gap in the hedge, and a road leads off into the seeming jungle. At every such entrance there are posts of
+masonry, and a plate bearing the name of the manor and its owner.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb305" href="#pb305">305</a>]</span></p>
+<p>At the end of a long aisle of palms and banians you see a bit of wide-spreading veranda, and the full-open doors of a cool,
+black interior. Acres of closely shaven lawns, dotted with flowering shrubs of the brightest reds, deepest purples, and fieriest
+solferinos, beds of rich-hued foliage plants, and cool, green masses of ferns meet your eye.
+
+</p>
+<p>Perhaps you spy the inevitable tennis-court, swarming with players, and bordered with tables covered with tea and sweets.
+Red-turbaned Malay <i>kebuns</i>, or gardeners, are chasing the balls, and scrupulously clean Chinese &#8220;boys&#8221; are passing silently among the guests with trays
+of eatables.
+
+</p>
+<p>Dozens of <i>gharries</i> dodge past. Hundreds of rickshaws pull out of the way.
+
+</p>
+<p>A great landau, drawn by a pair of thoroughbred Australian horses, driven by a Malay <i>syce</i>, and footman in full livery, and containing a bare-headed Chinese merchant, in the simple flowing garments of his nation,
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb306" href="#pb306">306</a>]</span>dashes along. The victoria and the dog-cart of the European, and the universal palanquin of the Anglo-Indian, form a perfect
+maze of wheels.
+
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly the road is filled with a long line of bullock-carts. You swing your little pony sharply to one side, barely escaping
+the big wooden hub of the first cart. The <i>syce</i> springs down from behind, and belabors the native bullock driver, who, paying no attention to the blows rained upon his naked
+back, belabors his beasts in turn, calling down upon their ungainly humps the curses of his religion. The scene is so familiar
+that only a &#8220;globe-trotter&#8221; would notice it. Yet to me there is nothing more truly artistic, or more typically Indian in India,
+than a long line of these bullock-carts, laden with the products of the tropics,&#8212;pineapples, bananas, gambier, coffee,&#8212;urged
+on by a straight, graceful driver, winding slowly along a palm and banian shaded <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb307" href="#pb307">307</a>]</span>road. We would meet such processions at every turning, but never without recalling glorious childish pictures of the Holy
+Land and Bible scenery as we painted them, while our father read of a Sunday morning out of the old &#8220;Domestic Bible,&#8221;&#8212;we children
+pronounce it &#8220;<i>Dom</i>-i-stick,&#8221;&#8212;how the Lord said unto Moses, &#8220;Go take twenty fat bullocks and offer them as a sacrifice.&#8221; As we would see these
+&#8220;twenty fat bullocks&#8221; time and again, I confess, with a feeling of reluctance, that some of the gilt and rose tint was rubbed
+from our childish pictures, and that a realistic artist drawing from the life before him would not deck out the patient subject
+in quite our extravagant colors.
+
+</p>
+<p>The color of the Indian bullock varies. Some are a dirty white, some a cream color, some almost pink, and a few are of the
+darker shades. They are about the size of our cows, seldom as large as a full-grown <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb308" href="#pb308">308</a>]</span>ox. Their horns, which are generally tipped with curiously carved knobs, and often painted in colors, are as diversified in
+their styles of architecture as are the horns of our cattle, though they are more apt to be straight and V-shaped. Their necks
+are always &#8220;bowed to the yoke,&#8221; to once more use biblical phraseology, and seem almost to invite its humiliating clasp. Above
+their front legs is the mark of their antiquity, the great clumsy, flabby, fleshy, tawny hump, always swaying from side to
+side, keeping time to every plodding step of its sleepy owner. This seemingly useless mountain of flesh serves as a cushion
+against which rests a yoke. Not the natty yoke of our rural districts, but a simple pole, with a pin of wood through each
+end, to ride on the outside of the bullocks&#8217; necks. The burden comes against the projecting hump when the team pulls. To the
+centre of this yoke is tied, with strong withes of rattan, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb309" href="#pb309">309</a>]</span>the pole of a cart, that in this nineteenth century is generally only to be seen in national museums, preserved as a relic
+of the first steps in the art of wagon building. And yet as a cart it is not to be despised: all the heavy traffic of the
+colonies is done within its rude board sides. It has two wheels, with heavy square spokes that are held on to a ponderous
+wooden axle-tree by two wooden pins. A platform bottom rests on the axle-tree, and two fence-like sides.
+
+</p>
+<p>The genie of the cart, the hewer of wood and drawer of water, is a tall, wiry, bronze-colored Hindu. He has a yard of white
+gauze about his waist, and another yard twisted up into a turban on his head. The dictates of fashion do not interest him.
+He does not plod along year in and year out behind his team for the pittance of sixty cents per day, to squander on the outside
+of his person. Not he. He has a wife up near Simla. He hopes to go back next year, and buy a bit <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb310" href="#pb310">310</a>]</span>of ground back from the hill on the Allabadd road from his father-in-law, old Mohammed Mudd. They have cold weather up in
+Simla, and he knows of a certain gown he is going to buy of a Chinaman in the bazaar. But his bullocks lag, and he saws on
+the <i>gamooty</i> rope that is attached to their noses, and beats them half consciously with his rattan whip. Ofttimes he will stand stark
+upright in the cart for a full half-hour, with his rattan held above his head in a threatening attitude, and talk on and on
+to his animals, apotheosizing their strength and patience, telling them how they are sacred to Buddha, how they are the companions
+of man, and how they shall have an extra <i>chupa</i> of paddy when the sun goes down, and he has delivered to the merchant <i>sahib</i> on the quay his load of gambier; or he reproves them for their slowness and want of interest, and threatens them with the
+rod, and tells them to look how he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb311" href="#pb311">311</a>]</span>holds it above them. If in the course of the harangue one of the dumb listeners pauses to pick a mouthful of young <i>lallang</i> grass by the roadside, the softly crooning tones give place to a shriek of denunciation.
+
+</p>
+<p>The agile Kling springs down from his improvised pulpit, and rushes at the offender, calls him the offspring of a pariah dog,
+shows him the rattan, rubs it against his nose, threatening to cut him up with it into small pieces, and to feed the pieces
+to the birds. Then he discharges a volley of blows on the sleek sides of the offender, that seem to have little more effect
+than to raise a cloud of tiger gnats, and to cause the recipient to bite faster at the tender herbs.
+
+</p>
+<p>As the bullock-cart that has blocked our way, and at the same time inspired this description, shambles along down the shady
+road, and out of the reach of the <i>syce&#8217;s</i> arms, the driver slips quietly up the pole of the cart until a hand rests on <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb312" href="#pb312">312</a>]</span>either hump, and commences to talk in a half-aggrieved, half-caressing tone to his team. Our <i>syce</i> translates. &#8220;He say bullock very bad to go to sleep before the palanquin of the Heaven-Born. If they no be better soon, their
+souls will no become men. He say he sorry that they make the great American <i>sahib</i> angry.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>The singular trio passes on, the driver praising and reprimanding by turns in the soft, musical tongue of his people, the
+historic beasts swinging lazily along, regardless of their illustrious past, all unconscious of the fact that their names
+are embalmed in sacred writ and Indian legend, and rounding a corner of the broad, red road, are lost to view amid the olive-green
+shadows of a clump of gently swaying bamboo. To me, for the moment, they seem to disappear, like phantoms, into the mists
+of the dim centuries, from out of which my imagination has called them forth.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb313" href="#pb313">313</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Soon you are at the wide-open gates of the Botanic Garden. A perfect riot of strange tropical foliage bursts upon the view.
+The clean, red road winds about and among avenues of palms, waringhans, dark green mangosteens, casuarinas, and the sweet-smelling
+hibiscus, all alike covered with a hundred different parasitic vines and ferns. Artificial lakes and moats are filled with
+the giant pods of the superb Victoria regia, and the flesh-colored cups of the lotus.
+
+</p>
+<p>In the translucent green twilight of the flower-houses a hundred varieties of the costly orchids thrive&#8212;not costly here. A
+shipload can be bought of the natives for three cents apiece.
+
+</p>
+<p>Walks carry you out into the dim aisles of the native jungle. Monkeys, surprised at your footsteps, spring from limb to limb,
+and swing, chattering, out of sight in a mass of rubber-vines. Splendid macadamized roads, that are kept in perfect repair
+by a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb314" href="#pb314">314</a>]</span>force of naked Hindus and an iron roller drawn by six unwilling, hump-backed bullocks, spread out over the island in every
+direction. Leave one at any point outside the town, and plunge into the bordering jungle, and you are liable to meet a tiger
+or a herd of wild boar. The tigers swim across the straits from the mainland, and occasionally strike down a Chinaman. It
+is said that if a Chinaman, a Malay, and a European are passing side by side through a field, the tiger will pick out the
+Chinaman to the exclusion of the other two.
+
+</p>
+<p>Acres upon acres of pineapples stretch away on either hand, while patches of bananas and farms of coffee are interspersed
+with spice trees and sago swamps.
+
+</p>
+<p>This road system is the secret of the development of the agriculture, and one of the secrets of the rapid growth of the great
+English colonies. Were it not for the great black python, that lies sleeping in the road <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb315" href="#pb315">315</a>]</span>in front of you, or the green iguana that hangs in a <i>timboso</i> tree over your head, or a naked runner pulling a rickshaw, you might think you were travelling the wide asphaltum streets
+of Washington.
+
+</p>
+<p>The home of the European in Singapore is peculiar to the country. The parks about their great bungalows are small copies of
+the Botanic Gardens&#8212;filled with all that is beautiful in the flora of the East. From five to twenty servants alone are kept
+to look after its walks and hedges and lawns.
+
+</p>
+<p>A bungalow proper may consist of but a half-dozen rooms, and yet look like a vast manor house. It is the generous sweep of
+the verandas running completely around the house that lends this impression. Behind its bamboo <i>chicks</i> you retire on your return from the office. The Chinese &#8220;boy&#8221; takes your pipe-clayed shoes and cork helmet, and brings a pair
+of heelless grass slippers. If a friend drop in, you never think of inviting <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb316" href="#pb316">316</a>]</span>him into your richly furnished drawing-room, but motion him to a long rattan chair, call &#8220;Boy, bring the master a cup of tea,&#8221;
+and pass a box of Manila cigars.
+
+</p>
+<p>Bungalows are one story high, with a roof of palm thatch, and are raised above the ground from two to five feet by brick pillars,
+leaving an open space for light and air beneath. Nearly every day it rains for an hour in torrents. The hot, steaming earth
+absorbs the water, and the fierce equatorial sun evaporates it, only to return it in a like shower the next day. So every
+precaution must be taken against dampness and dry-rot.
+
+</p>
+<p>In every well-ordered bungalow seven to nine servants are an absolute necessity, while three others are usually added from
+time to time. The five elements, if I may so style them, are the &#8220;boy,&#8221; or boys, the cook and his helpers, the horseman, the
+water-carrier, the gardener, and the maid. The adjuncts <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb317" href="#pb317">317</a>]</span>are the barber, the wash man, the tailor, and the watchman. In a mild way, you are at the mercy of these servants. Their duties
+are fixed by caste, one never intruding on the work of another. You must have all or none. Still this is no hardship. Only
+newcomers ever think, of trying to economize on servant bills. The record of the thermometer is too appalling, and you speedily
+become too dependent on their attentions.
+
+</p>
+<p>The Chinese &#8220;boy&#8221;&#8212;he is always the &#8220;boy&#8221; until he dies&#8212;is the presiding genius of the house. He it is who brings your tea
+and fruit to the bedside at 6 <span class="smallcaps">A.M.</span>, and lays out your evening suit ready for dinner, puts your studs in your clean shirt, brings your slippers, knows where
+each individual article of your wardrobe is kept, and, in fact, thinks of a hundred and one little comforts you would never
+have known of, had he not discovered them. He is your <i>valet de chambre</i>, your <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb318" href="#pb318">318</a>]</span>butler, your steward and your general agent, your interpreter and your directory. He controls the other servants with a rod
+of iron, but bows to the earth before the mem, or the master. For his ten Mexican dollars a month he takes all the burdens
+from your shoulders, and stands between you and the rude outside polyglot world. He is a hero-worshipper, and if you are a
+<i>Tuan Besar</i>&#8212;great man&#8212;he will double his attentions, and spread your fame far and wide among his brother majordomos.
+
+</p>
+<p>But a description of each member of the <i>m&eacute;nage</i> and their duties would be in a large measure the description of the odd, complex life of the East.
+
+</p>
+<p>The growth of Singapore since its founding by Sir Stamford Raffles in 1819 would do honor to the growth of one of our Western
+cities.
+
+</p>
+<p>Within three months after the purchase of the ground from the Sultan of Johore, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb319" href="#pb319">319</a>]</span>Raffles wrote to Lord Warren Hastings, the Governor:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have a growing colony of nearly five thousand souls,&#8221; and a little later one of his successors wrote apologetically to
+Lord Auckland, discussing some project relating to Singapore finance;&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;These details may appear to your Lordship petty, but then everything connected with these settlements is petty, except their
+annual surplus cost to the Government of India.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>To-day the city and colony has a population of over one million, and a revenue of five million dollars&#8212;a magnificent monument
+to its founder&#8217;s foresight!
+
+</p>
+<p>From a commercial and strategic stand-point, the site of the city is unassailable. When the English and the Dutch divided
+the East Indies by drawing a line through the Straits of Malacca,&#8212;the English to hold all north, the Dutch all south,&#8212;the
+crafty <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb320" href="#pb320">320</a>]</span>Dutchman smiled benignly, with one finger in the corner of his eye, and went back to his coffee and tobacco trading in the
+beautiful islands of Java and Sumatra, pitying the ignorance of the Englishman, who was contented with the swampy jungles
+of an unknown and savage neck of land, little thinking that inside of a half century all his products would come to this same
+despised district for a market, while his own colonies would retrograde and gradually pass into the hands of the English.
+
+</p>
+<p>Singapore is one of the great cities of the world, the centre of all the East Indian commerce, the key of southern Asia, and
+one of the massive links in the armored chain with which Great Britain encircles the globe.
+
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb321" href="#pb321">321</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div id="ch17" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">
+[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]
+</span><h2 class="normal">A Fight with Illanum Pirates</h2>
+<h2 class="sub">The Yarn of a Yankee Skipper</h2>
+<p>The <i>Daily Straits Times</i> on the desk before me contained a vivid word picture of the capture of the British steamship <i>Namoa</i> by three hundred Chinese pirates, the guns of Hong Kong almost within sight, and the year of our Lord 1890 just drawing to
+a close. The report seemed incredible.
+
+</p>
+<p>I pushed the paper across the table to the grizzled old captain of the <i>Bunker Hill</i> and continued my examination of the accounts of a half-dozen sailors of whom he was intent on getting rid. By the time I
+had signed the last discharge and affixed the consular seal he had finished the article and put it aside with a contemptuous
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb322" href="#pb322">322</a>]</span>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; expressive of his opinion of the valor of the crew and officers. I could see that he was anxious for me to give him
+my attention while he related one of those long-drawn-out stories of perhaps a like personal experience. I knew the symptoms
+and <span class="corr" id="xd0e4447" title="Source: somtimes">sometimes</span> took occasion to escape, if business or inclination made me forego the pleasure. To-day I was in a mood to humor him.
+
+</p>
+<p>There is always something deliciously refreshing in a sailor&#8217;s yarn. I have listened to hundreds in the course of my consular
+career, and have yet to find one that is dull or prosy. They all bear the imprint of truth, perhaps a trifle overdrawn, but
+nevertheless sparkling with the salt of the sea and redolent of the romance of strange people and distant lands. In listening,
+one becomes almost dizzy at the rapidity with which the scene and personnel change. The icebergs and the aurora borealis of
+the Arctic give place to the torrid waters and the Southern <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb323" href="#pb323">323</a>]</span>Cross of the South Pacific. A volcanic island, an Arabian desert, a tropical jungle, and the breadth and width of the ocean
+serve as the theatre, while a Fiji Islander, an Eskimo, and a turbaned Arab are actors in a half-hour&#8217;s tale. In interest
+they rival Verne, Kingston, or Marryat. All they lack is skilled hands to dress them in proper language.
+
+
+</p>
+<div class="div2">
+<h3 class="label">I</h3>
+<h3 class="normal">The Captain&#8217;s Yarn</h3>
+<p>The captain helped himself to one of my manilas and began:&#8212;
+
+</p>
+<p>I&#8217;ve nothing to say about the fate of the poor fellows on the <i>Namoa</i>, seeing the captain was killed at the first fire, but it looks to me like a case of carelessness which was almost criminal.
+The idea of allowing three hundred Chinese to come aboard as passengers without searching them for arms. Why! it is an open
+bid to pirates. Goes to show <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb324" href="#pb324">324</a>]</span>pretty plain that these seas are not cleared of pirates. Sailing ships nowadays think they can go anywhere without a pound
+of powder or an old cutlass aboard, just because there is an English or Dutch man-of-war within a hundred miles. I don&#8217;t know
+what we&#8217;d have done when I first traded among these islands without a good brass swivel and a stock of percussion-cap muskets.
+
+</p>
+<p>Let me see; it was in &#8217;58, I was cabin boy on the ship <i>Bangor</i>. Captain Howe, hale old fellow from Maine, had his two little boys aboard. They are merchants now in Boston. I&#8217;ve been sailing
+for them on the <i>Elmira</i> ever since. We were trading along the coast of Borneo. Those were great days for trading in spite of the pirates. That was
+long before iron steamers sent our good oaken ships to rot in the dockyards of Maine. Why, in those days you could see a half-dozen
+of our snug little crafts in any port of the world, and I&#8217;ve seen more <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb325" href="#pb325">325</a>]</span>American flags in this very harbor of Singapore than of any other nation. We had come into Singapore with a shipload of ice
+(no scientific ice factories then), and had gone along the coast of Java and Borneo to load with coffee, rubber, and spices,
+for a return voyage. We were just off Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, and about loaded, when the captain heard that gold
+had been discovered somewhere up near the head of the Rejang. The captain was an adventurous old salt, and decided to test
+the truth of the story; so, taking the long-boat and ten men, he pulled up the Sarawak River to Kuching and got permission
+of Rajah Brooke to go up the Rejang on a hunting expedition. The Rajah was courteous, but tried to dissuade us from the undertaking
+by relating that several bands of Dyaks had been out on head-hunting expeditions of late, and that the mouth of the Rejang
+was infested by Illanum pirates. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb326" href="#pb326">326</a>]</span>The captain only laughed, and jokingly told Sir James that if the game proved scarce he might come back and claim the prize
+money on a boat-load of pirate heads.
+
+</p>
+<p>We started at once,&#8212;for the captain let me go; we rowed some sixty miles along the coast to the mouth of the Rejang; then
+for four days we pulled up its snakelike course. It was my first bit of adventure, and everything was strange and new. The
+river&#8217;s course was like a great tunnel into the dense black jungle. On each side and above we were completely walled in by
+an impenetrable growth of great tropical trees and the iron-like vines of the rubber. The sun for a few hours each day came
+in broken shafts down through the foliage, and exposed the black back of a crocodile, or the green sides of an iguana. Troops
+of monkeys swung and chattered in the branches above, and at intervals a grove of cocoanut broke the monotony of the scenery.
+Among them <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb327" href="#pb327">327</a>]</span>we would land and rest for the day or night, eat of their juicy fruit, and go on short excursions for game. A roasted monkey,
+some baked yams, and a delicious rice curry made up a royal bill of fare, and as the odor of our tobacco mixed with the breathing
+perfume of the jungle, I would fall asleep listening to sea-yarns that sometimes ran back to the War of 1812.
+
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="div2">
+<h3 class="label">II</h3>
+<p>At the end of the fifth day we arrived at the head of the Rejang. Here the river broke up into a dozen small streams and a
+swamp. A stockade had been erected, and the Rajah had stationed a small company of native soldiers under an English officer
+to keep the head-hunting Dyaks in check. I don&#8217;t remember what our captain found out in regard to the gold fields, at least
+it was not encouraging; for he gave up the search and joined the English lieutenant <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb328" href="#pb328">328</a>]</span>in a grand deer-hunt that lasted for five days, and then started back accompanied by two native soldiers bearing despatches
+to the Rajah.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was easy running down the river with the current. One man in each end of the boat kept it off roots, sunken logs, and crocodiles,
+and the rest of us spent the time as best our cramped space allowed. Twice we detected the black, ugly face of a Dyak peering
+from out the jungle. The men were for hunting them down for the price on their heads, but the captain said he never killed
+a human being except in self-defence, and that if the Rajah wanted to get rid of the savages he had better give the contract
+to a Mississippi slave-trader. Secretly, I was longing for some kind of excitement, and was hoping that the men&#8217;s clamorous
+talk would have some effect. I never doubted our ability to raid a Dyak village and kill the head-hunters <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb329" href="#pb329">329</a>]</span>and carry off the beautiful maidens. I could not see why a parcel of blacks should be such a terror to the good Rajah, when
+Big Tom said he could easily handle a dozen, and flattered me by saying that such a brawny lad as I ought to take care of
+two at least.
+
+</p>
+<p>In the course of three days we reached the mouth of the river, and prepared the sail for the trip across the bay to the <i>Bangor</i>. Just as everything was in readiness, one of those peculiar and rapid changes in the weather, that are so common here in
+the tropics near the equator, took place. A great blue-black cloud, looking like an immense cartridge, came up from the west.
+Through it played vivid flashes of lightning, and around it was a red haze. &#8220;A nasty animal,&#8221; I heard the bo&#8217;s&#8217;n tell the
+captain, and yet I was foolishly delighted when they decided to risk a blow and put out to sea. The sky on all sides grew
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb330" href="#pb330">330</a>]</span>darker from hour to hour. A smell of sulphur came to our nostrils. It was oppressively hot; not a breath of wind was stirring.
+The sail flapped uselessly against the mast, and the men labored at the oars, while streams of sweat ran from their bodies.
+
+</p>
+<p>The captain had just taken down the mast, when, without a moment&#8217;s warning, the gale struck us and the boat half filled with
+water. We managed to head it with the wind, and were soon driving with the rapidity of a cannon-ball over the boiling and
+surging waters. It was a fearful gale; we blew for hours before it, ofttimes in danger of a volcanic reef, again almost sunk
+by a giant wave. I baled until I was completely exhausted. But the long-boat was a stanch little craft, and there were plenty
+of men to manage it, so as long as we could keep her before the wind, the captain felt no great anxiety as to our safety.
+
+
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb331" href="#pb331">331</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="div2">
+<h3 class="label">III</h3>
+<p>At about six bells in the afternoon, the wind fell away, and the rain came down in torrents, leaving us to pitch about on
+the rapidly decreasing waves, wet to the skin and unequal to another effort. We were within a mile of a rocky island that
+rose like a half-ruined castle from the ocean. The Dyak soldiers called it Satang Island, and I have sailed past it many a
+time since. Without waiting for the word, we rowed to it and around it, before we found a suitable beach on which to land.
+One end of the island rose precipitous and sheer above the beach a hundred feet, and ended in a barren plateau of some two
+dozen acres. The remainder comprised some hundred acres of sand and rocks, on which were half a dozen cocoanut trees and a
+few yams. Along the beach we found a large number of turtles&#8217; eggs.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb332" href="#pb332">332</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The captain, remembering the Rajah&#8217;s caution in regard to pirates, decided not to make a light, but we were wet and hungry
+and overcame his scruples, and soon had a huge fire and a savory repast of coffee, turtles&#8217; eggs, and yams. At midnight it
+was extinguished, and a watch stationed on top of the plateau. Toward morning I clambered grumblingly up the narrow, almost
+perpendicular sides of the rift that cut into the rocky watch-tower. I did not believe in pirates and was willing to take
+my chances in sleep. I paced back and forth, inhaling deep breaths of the rich tropical air; below me the waves beat in ripples
+against the rugged beach, casting off from time to time little flashes of phosphorescent light, and mirroring in their depths
+the hardly distinguishable outline of the Southern Cross. The salt smell of the sea was tinged with the spice-laden air of
+the near coast. Drowsiness came over me. I picked up a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb333" href="#pb333">333</a>]</span>musket and paced around the little plateau. The moon had but just reached its zenith, making all objects easily discernible.
+The smooth storm-swept space before me reflected back its rays like a well-scrubbed quarter-deck; below were the dark outlines
+of my sleeping mates. I could hear the light wind rustling through the branches of the casuarina trees that fringed the shore.
+I paused and looked over the sea. Like a charge of electricity a curious sensation of fear shot through me. Then an intimation
+that some object had flashed between me and the moon. I rubbed my eyes and gazed in the air above, expecting to see a night
+bird or a bat. Then the same peculiar sensation came over me again, and I looked down in the water below just in time to see
+the long, keen, knife-like outline of a pirate <i>prau</i> glide as noiselessly as a shadow from a passing cloud into the gloom of the island. Its great, wide-spreading, dark red
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb334" href="#pb334">334</a>]</span>sails were set full to the wind, and hanging over its sides by ropes were a dozen naked Illanums, guiding the sensitive craft
+almost like a thing of life. Within the <i>prau</i> were two dozen fighting men, armed with their alligator hide buckler, long, steel-tipped spear, and ugly, snake-like <i>kris</i>. A third <i>prau</i> followed in the wake of the other two, and all three were lost in the blackness of the overhanging cliffs.
+</p>
+<hr class="tb"><p>
+
+</p>
+<p>With as little noise as possible, I ran across the plain and warned my companion, then picked my way silently down the defile
+to the camp. The captain responded to my touch and was up in an instant. The men were awakened and the news whispered from
+one to another. Gathering up what food and utensils we possessed, we hurried to get on top of the plateau before our exact
+whereabouts became known. The captain hoped that when they discovered <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb335" href="#pb335">335</a>]</span>we were well fortified and there was no wreck to pillage, they would withdraw without giving battle. They had landed on the
+opposite side of the island from our boat and might leave it undisturbed. We felt reasonably safe in our fortress from attacks.
+There were but two breaks in its precipitous sides, each a narrow defile filled with loose boulders that could easily be detached
+and sent thundering down on an assailant&#8217;s head. On the other hand, our shortness of food and water made us singularly weak
+in case of siege. But we hoped for the best. Two men were posted at each defile, and as nothing was heard for an hour, most
+of us fell asleep.
+
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="div2">
+<h3 class="label">IV</h3>
+<p>It was just dawn, when we were awakened by the report of two muskets and the terrific crashing of a great boulder, followed
+by groans and yells. With one accord we rushed to the head of the ca&ntilde;on. The <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb336" href="#pb336">336</a>]</span>Illanums, naked, with the exception of party-colored <i>sarongs</i> around their waists, with their bucklers on their left arms and their gleaming knives strapped to their right wrists, were
+mounting on each other&#8217;s shoulders, forcing a way up the precipitous defile, unmindful of the madly descending rocks that
+had crushed and maimed more than one of their number. They were fine, powerful fellows, with a reddish brown skin that shone
+like polished ebony. Their hair was shorn close to their heads; they had high cheek bones, flat noses, <i>syrah</i>-stained lips, and bloodshot eyes. In their movements they were as lithe and supple as a tiger, and commanded our admiration
+while they made us shudder. We knew that they neither give nor take quarter, and for years had terrorized the entire Bornean
+coast.
+
+</p>
+<p>We were ready to fire, but a gesture from the captain restrained us; our ammunition was low, and he wished to save it until
+we <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb337" href="#pb337">337</a>]</span>actually needed it. By our united efforts we pried off two of the volcanic rocks, which, with a great leap, disappeared into
+the darkness below, oftentimes appearing for an instant before rushing to the sea. Every time an Illanum fell we gave a hearty
+American cheer, which was answered by savage yells. Still they fought on and up, making little headway. We were gradually
+relaxing our efforts, thinking that they were sick of the affair, when the report of a musket from the opposite side of the
+island called our attention to the bo&#8217;s&#8217;n, who had been detailed to guard the other defile.
+
+</p>
+<p>The bo&#8217;s&#8217;n and one native soldier were fighting hand to hand with a dozen pirates who were forcing their way up the edge of
+the cliff. Half of the men dashed to their relief just in time to see the soldier go over the precipice locked in the arms
+of a giant Illanum. One volley from our muskets settled the hopes of the invaders.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb338" href="#pb338">338</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Our little party was divided, and we were outnumbered ten to one. One of the sailors in dislodging a boulder lost his footing
+and went crashing down with it amid the derisive yells of the pirates. Suddenly the conflict ceased and the pirates withdrew.
+In a short time we could see them building a number of small fires along the beach, and the aroma of rice curry came up to
+us with the breeze. The captain, I could see, was anxious, although my boyish feelings did not go beyond a sense of intoxicating
+excitement. I heard him say that nothing but a storm or a ship could save us in case we were besieged; that it was better
+to have the fight out at once and die with our arms in our hands than to starve to death.
+
+</p>
+<p>Giving each a small portion of ship biscuit and a taste of water, he enjoined on each a careful watchfulness and a provident
+use of our small stock of provisions.
+
+</p>
+<p>I took mine in my hand and walked out <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb339" href="#pb339">339</a>]</span>on the edge of the cliff somewhat sobered. Directly below me were the pirates, and at my feet I noticed a fragment of rock
+that I thought I could loosen. Putting down my food, I foolishly picked up a piece of timber which I used as a lever, when,
+without warning, the mass broke away, and with a tremendous bound went crashing down into the very midst of the pirates, scattering
+them right and left, and ended by crushing one of the <i>praus</i> that was drawn up on the sand.
+
+</p>
+<p>In an instant the quiet beach was a scene of the wildest confusion. A surging, crowding mass of pirates with their <i>krises</i> between their teeth dashed up the ca&ntilde;on, intent on avenging their loss. I dropped my lever and rushed back to the men, nearly
+frightened to death at the result of my temerity. There was no time for boulders; the men reached the brink of the defile
+just in time to welcome the assailants with a broadside. Their lines wavered, but fresh men took the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb340" href="#pb340">340</a>]</span>places of the fallen, and they pushed on. Another volley from our guns, and the dead and wounded encumbered the progress of
+the living. A shower of stones and timbers gave us the light, and they withdrew with savage yells to open the siege once more.
+Only one of our men had been wounded,&#8212;he by an arrow from a blowpipe.
+
+
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="div2">
+<h3 class="label">V</h3>
+<p>All that night we kept watch. The next morning we were once more attacked, but successfully defended ourselves with boulders
+and our cutlasses. Yet one swarthy pirate succeeded in catching the leg of the remaining native soldier and bearing him away
+with them. With cessation of hostilities, we searched the top of the island for food and water. At one side of the tableland
+there was a break in its surface and a bench of some dozen acres lay perhaps twenty feet below our retreat. We cautiously
+worked <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb341" href="#pb341">341</a>]</span>our way down to this portion and there to our delight found a number of fan-shaped traveller&#8217;s palms and monkey-cups full
+of sweet water, which with two wild sago palms we calculated would keep us alive a few days at all events.
+
+</p>
+<p>We were much encouraged at this discovery, and that night collected a lot of brush from the lower plain and lit a big fire
+on the most exposed part of the rocks. We did not care if it brought a thousand more pirates as long as it attracted the attention
+of a passing ship. Two good nine-pounders would soon send our foes in all directions. We relieved each other in watching during
+the night, and by sunrise we were all completely worn out. The third day was one of weariness and thirst under the burning
+rays of the tropical sun. That day we ate the last of our ship biscuit and were reduced to a few drops of water each. Starvation
+was staring us in the face. There was but one <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb342" href="#pb342">342</a>]</span>alternative, and that was to descend and make a fight for our boat on the beach. The bo&#8217;s&#8217;n volunteered with three men to
+descend the defile and reconnoitre. Armed only with their cutlasses and a short axe, they worked their way carefully down
+in the shadow of the rocks, while we kept watch above.
+
+</p>
+<p>All was quiet for a time; then there arose a tumult of cries, oaths, and yells. The captain gave the order, and pell-mell
+down the rift we clambered, some dropping their muskets in their hurried descent, one of which exploded in its fall. The bo&#8217;s&#8217;n
+had found the beach and our boat guarded by six pirates, who were asleep. Four of these they succeeded in throttling. We pushed
+the boat into the surf, expecting every moment to see one of the <i>praus</i> glide around the projecting reef that separated the two inlets. We could plainly hear their cries and yells as they discovered
+our escape, and with a &#8220;heigh-ho-heigh!&#8221; our long-boat shot out into the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb343" href="#pb343">343</a>]</span>placid ocean, sending up a shower of phosphorescent bubbles. We bent our backs to the oars as only a question of life or death
+can make one. With each stroke the boat seemed almost to lift itself out of the water. Almost at the same time a long dark
+line, filled with moving objects, dashed out from the shadow of the cliffs, hardly a hundred yards away.
+
+</p>
+<p>It was a glorious race over the dim waters of that tropical sea. I as a boy could not realize what capture meant at the hands
+of our cruel pursuers. My heart beat high, and I felt equal to a dozen Illanums. My thoughts travelled back to New England
+in the midst of the excitement. I saw myself before the open arch fire in a low-roofed old house, that for a century had withstood
+the fiercest gales on the old Maine coast, and from whose doors had gone forth three generations of sea-captains. I saw myself
+on a winter night relating this very story of adventure <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb344" href="#pb344">344</a>]</span>to an old gray-haired, bronzed-faced father, and a mother whose parting kiss still lingered on my lips, to my younger brother,
+and sister. I could feel their undisguised admiration as I told of my fight with pirates in the Bornean sea. It is wonderful
+how the mind will travel. Yet with my thoughts in Maine, I saw and felt that the Illanums were gradually gaining on us. Our
+men were weary and feeble from two days&#8217; fasting, while the pirates were strong, and thirsting for our blood.
+
+</p>
+<p>The captain kept glancing first at the enemy and then at a musket that lay near him. He longed to use it, but not a man could
+be spared from the oars. Hand over hand they gained on us. Turning his eyes on me as I sat in the bow, the captain said, while
+he bent his sinewy back to the oar, &#8220;Jack, are you a good shot?&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>I stammered, &#8220;I can try, sir.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well, get the musket there in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb345" href="#pb345">345</a>]</span>bow. It is loaded. Take good aim and shoot that big fellow in the stern. If you hit him, I&#8217;ll make you master of a ship
+some day.&#8221;
+
+</p>
+<p>Tremblingly I raised the heavy musket as directed. The boat was unsteady, I hardly expected to hit the chief, but aimed low,
+hoping to hit one of the rowers at least. I aimed, closed my eyes, and fired. With the report of the musket the tall leader
+sprang into the air and then fell head fore-most amid his rowers. I could just detect the gleam of the moonlight on the jewelled
+handle of his <i>kris</i> as it sank into the waters. I had hit my man. The sailors sent up a hearty American cheer and a tiger, as they saw the <i>prau</i> come to a standstill.
+
+</p>
+<p>Our boat sprang away into the darkness. We did not cease rowing until dawn,&#8212;then we lay back on our oars and stretched our
+tired backs and arms. I had taken my place at the oar during the night.
+<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb346" href="#pb346">346</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Away out on the northern horizon we saw a black speck; on the southern horizon another. The captain&#8217;s glass revealed one to
+be the pirate <i>prau</i> with all sails set, for a wind had come up with the dawn. The other we welcomed with a cheer, for it was the <i>Bangor</i>. Enfeebled and nearly famishing, we headed toward it and rowed for life. How we regretted having left our sails on the island.
+The <i>prau</i> had sighted us and was bearing down in full pursuit; we soon could distinguish its wide-spreading, rakish sails almost touching
+the water as it sped on. Then we made out the naked forms of the Illanums hanging to the ropes, far out over the water, and
+then we could hear their blood-curdling yell. It was too late; their yell was one of baffled rage. It was answered by the
+deep bass tones of the swivel on board the <i>Bangor</i> sending a ball skimming along over the waters, which, although it went wide of its mark, caused the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb347" href="#pb347">347</a>]</span>natives on the ropes to throw themselves bodily across the <i>prau</i>, taking the great sail with them.
+
+</p>
+<p>In another instant the red sail, the long, keen, black shell, the naked forms of the fierce Illanums, were mixed in one undefinable
+blot on the distant horizon.
+
+</p>
+<p>And that was the skipper&#8217;s yarn.
+
+
+
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="back">
+<div class="transcribernote">
+<h2>Colophon</h2>
+<h3>Availability</h3>
+<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give
+it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/">www.gutenberg.org</a>.
+
+</p>
+<p>This eBook is produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a href="http://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>.
+
+</p>
+<p>Scans of this book are available from:
+
+</p>
+<ol class="lsoff">
+<li>The <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/talesofmalayanco00wildrich">Internet Archive</a>, (used for the illustrations).
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=tXCl-mwsJ_MC">Google Books</a>, University of Michigan. (used for the illustrations of the author and admiral Dewey, and page images for proofreading; <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/talesmalayancoa00wildgoog">TIA Copy</a>)
+
+</li>
+<li><a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=E8u3hPdn4fwC">Google Books</a>, Harvard University. (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/talesmalayancoa01wildgoog">TIA Copy</a>)
+</li>
+</ol><p>
+
+
+</p>
+<h3>Encoding</h3>
+<p></p>
+<h3>Revision History</h3>
+<ol class="lsoff">
+<li>2009-01-06 Started.
+
+</li>
+</ol>
+<h3>External References</h3>
+<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These links may not work for you.</p>
+<h3>Corrections</h3>
+<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p>
+<table width="75%">
+<tr>
+<th>Page</th>
+<th>Source</th>
+<th>Correction</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e127"></a></td>
+<td width="40%">Hong-Kong</td>
+<td width="40%">Hong Kong</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e742">32</a></td>
+<td width="40%">Changi</td>
+<td width="40%">Changhi</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1213">65</a></td>
+<td width="40%">
+[<i>Not in source</i>]
+
+</td>
+<td width="40%">.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1480">83</a></td>
+<td width="40%">Gymkahna</td>
+<td width="40%">Gymkhana</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1485">83</a></td>
+<td width="40%">Gymkahna</td>
+<td width="40%">Gymkhana</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2560">163</a></td>
+<td width="40%">casurina</td>
+<td width="40%">casuarina</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2892">188</a></td>
+<td width="40%">
+[<i>Not in source</i>]
+
+</td>
+<td width="40%">&#8221;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3574">243</a></td>
+<td width="40%">
+[<i>Not in source</i>]
+
+</td>
+<td width="40%">.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3870">268</a></td>
+<td width="40%">Mohammedams</td>
+<td width="40%">Mohammedans</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e4447">322</a></td>
+<td width="40%">somtimes</td>
+<td width="40%">sometimes</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Malayan Coast, by Rounsevelle Wildman
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@@ -0,0 +1,6329 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Malayan Coast, by Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tales of the Malayan Coast
+       From Penang to the Philippines
+
+Author: Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+Release Date: January 12, 2009 [EBook #27784]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE MALAYAN COAST ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                   Tales of the Malayan Coast
+
+                 From Penang to the Philippines
+
+                               By
+
+                      Rounsevelle Wildman
+
+        Consul General of the United States at Hong Kong
+
+                  Illustrated by Henry Sandham
+
+
+                             Boston
+
+                   Lothrop Publishing Company
+
+
+
+
+                        Copyright, 1899,
+                               By
+
+                  Lothrop Publishing Company.
+
+                         Norwood Press
+              J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
+                      Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               To
+                            Our Hero
+                         And my friend
+                  Admiral George Dewey, U.S.N.
+                      I Dedicate this Book
+
+
+
+
+
+                                              Flagship Olympia,
+                                        Manila, 21 Sept., 1898.
+
+        My Dear Wildman:--
+
+        Yours of 12th instant is  at hand. I am much flattered by
+        your request to dedicate your book to me, and would be
+        pleased to have you do so.
+
+            With kindest regards, I am,
+                Very truly yours,
+
+                        George Dewey.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+These stories are the result of nine years' residence and experience
+on the Malayan coast--that land of romance and adventure which the
+ancients knew as the Golden Chersonesus, and which, in modern times,
+has been brought again into the atmosphere of valor and performance
+by Rajah Brooke of Sarawak, the hero of English expansion, and
+Admiral George Dewey of the Asiatic squadron, the hero of American
+achievement. The author, in his official duties as Special Commissioner
+of the United States for the Straits Settlement and Siam, and, later,
+as Consul General of the United States at Hong Kong, has mingled with
+and studied the diverse people of the Malayan coast, from the Sultan
+of Johore and Aguinaldo the Filipino to the lowest Eurasian and "China
+boy" of that wonderful Oriental land. These stories are based on his
+experiences afloat and ashore, and are offered to the American public
+at this time when all glimpses of the land that Columbus sailed to
+find are of especial interest to the modern possessors of the land
+he really did discover.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                     Page
+    Baboo's Good Tiger                                 9
+    Baboo's Pirates                                   28
+    How we Played Robinson Crusoe                     47
+    The Sarong                                        66
+    The Kris                                          74
+    The White Rajah of Borneo                         81
+    Amok!                                            101
+    Lepas's Revenge                                  130
+    King Solomon's Mines                             147
+    Busuk                                            181
+    A Crocodile Hunt                                 200
+    A New Year's Day in Malaya                       219
+    In the Burst of the Southwest Monsoon            230
+    A Pig Hunt on Mount Ophir                        254
+    In the Court of Johore                           270
+    In the Golden Chersonese                         293
+    A Fight with Illanum Pirates                     321
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TALES OF THE MALAYAN COAST
+FROM PENANG TO THE PHILIPPINES
+
+
+BABOO'S GOOD TIGER
+
+A Tale of the Malacca Jungle
+
+
+Aboo Din's first-born, Baboo, was only four years old when he had
+his famous adventure with the tiger he had found sleeping in the
+hot lallang grass within the distance of a child's voice from Aboo
+Din's bungalow.
+
+For a long time before that hardly a day had passed but Aboo-Din,
+who was our syce, or groom, and wore the American colors proudly on
+his right arm, came in from the servants' quarters with an anxious
+look on his kindly brown face and asked respectfully for the tuan
+(lord) or mem (lady).
+
+"What is it, Aboo Din?" the mistress would inquire, as visions of
+Baboo drowned in the great Shanghai jar, or of Baboo lying crushed
+by a boa among the yellow bamboos beyond the hedge, passed swiftly
+through her mind.
+
+"Mem see Baboo?" came the inevitable question.
+
+It was unnecessary to say more. At once Ah Minga, the "boy"; Zim, the
+cook; the kebuns (gardeners); the tukanayer (water-boy), and even the
+sleek Hindu dirzee, who sat sewing, dozing, and chewing betel-nut,
+on the shady side of the veranda, turned out with one accord and
+commenced a systematic search for the missing Baboo.
+
+Sometimes he was no farther off than the protecting screen of the
+"compound" hedge, or the cool, green shadows beneath the bungalow. But
+oftener the government Sikhs had to be appealed to, and Kampong Glam
+in Singapore searched from the great market to the courtyards of
+Sultan Ali. It was useless to whip him, for whippings seemed only
+to make Baboo grow. He would lisp serenely as Aboo Din took down
+the rattan withe from above the door, "Baboo baniak jahat!" (Baboo
+very bad!) and there was something so charmingly impersonal in all
+his mischief, that we came between his own brown body and the rod,
+time and again. There was nothing distinctive in Baboo's features or
+form. To the casual observer he might have been any one of a half-dozen
+of his playmates. Like them, he went about perfectly naked, his soft,
+brown skin shining like polished rosewood in the fierce Malayan sun.
+
+His hair was black, straight, and short, and his eyes as black as
+coals. Like his companions, he stood as straight as an arrow, and
+could carry a pail of water on his head without spilling a drop.
+
+He, too, ate rice three times a day. It puffed him up like a little
+old man, which added to his grotesqueness and gave him a certain
+air of dignity that went well with his features when they were in
+repose. Around his waist he wore a silver chain with a silver heart
+suspended from it. Its purpose was to keep off the evil spirits.
+
+There was always an atmosphere of sandalwood and Arab essence about
+Baboo that reminded me of the holds of the old sailing-ships that used
+to come into Boston harbor from the Indies. I think his mother must
+have rubbed the perfumes into his hair as the one way of declaring to
+the world her affection for him. She could not give him clothes, or
+ornaments, or toys: such was not the fashion of Baboo's race. Neither
+was he old enough to wear the silk sarong that his Aunt Fatima had
+woven for him on her loom.
+
+Baboo had been well trained, and however lordly he might be in the
+quarters, he was marked in his respect to the mistress. He would
+touch his forehead to the red earth when I drove away of a morning to
+the office; though the next moment I might catch him blowing a tiny
+ball of clay from his sumpitan into the ear of his father, the syce,
+as he stood majestically on the step behind me.
+
+Baboo went to school for two hours every day to a fat old Arab
+penager, or teacher, whose schoolroom was an open stall, and whose
+only furniture a bench, on which he sat cross-legged, and flourished
+a whip in one hand and a chapter of the Koran in the other.
+
+There were a dozen little fellows in the school; all naked. They
+stood up in line, and in a soft musical treble chanted in chorus the
+glorious promises of the Koran, even while their eyes wandered from
+the dusky corner where a cheko lizard was struggling with an atlas
+moth, to the frantic gesticulations of a naked Hindu who was calling
+his meek-eyed bullocks hard names because they insisted on lying down
+in the middle of the road for their noonday siesta.
+
+Baboo's father, Aboo Din, was a Hadji, for he had been to Mecca. When
+nothing else could make Baboo forget the effects of the green durian
+he had eaten, Aboo Din would take the child on his knees and sing
+to him of his trip to Mecca, in a quaint, monotonous voice, full of
+sorrowful quavers. Baboo believed he himself could have left Singapore
+any day and found Mecca in the dark.
+
+We had been living some weeks in a government bungalow, fourteen miles
+from Singapore, across the island that looks out on the Straits of
+Malacca. The fishing and hunting were excellent. I had shot wild pig,
+deer, tapirs, and for some days had been getting ready to track down
+a tiger that had been prowling in the jungle about the bungalow.
+
+But of a morning, as we lay lazily chatting in our long chairs behind
+the bamboo chicks, the cries of "Harimau! Harimau!" and "Baboo"
+came up to us from the servants' quarters.
+
+Aboo Din sprang over the railing of the veranda, and without stopping
+even to touch the back of his hand to his forehead, cried,--
+
+"Tuan Consul, tiger have eat chow dog and got Baboo!"
+
+Then he rushed into the dining room, snatched up my Winchester and
+cartridge-belt, and handed them to me with a "Lekas (quick)! Come!"
+
+He sprang back off the veranda and ran to his quarters where the men
+were arming themselves with ugly krises and heavy parangs.
+
+I had not much hope of finding the tiger, much less of rescuing Baboo,
+dead or alive. The jungle loomed up like an impassable wall on all
+three sides of the compound, so dense, compact, and interwoven, that
+a bird could not fly through it. Still I knew that my men, if they
+had the courage, could follow where the tiger led, and could cut a
+path for me.
+
+Aboo Din unloosed a half-dozen pariah dogs that we kept for wild pig,
+and led them to the spot where the tiger had last lain. In an instant
+the entire pack sent up a doleful howl and slunk back to their kennels.
+
+Aboo Din lashed them mercilessly and drove them into the jungle,
+where he followed on his hands and knees. I only waited to don my
+green kaki suit and canvas shooting hat and despatch a man to the
+neighboring kampong, or village, to ask the punghulo (chief) to send
+me his shikaris, or hunters. Then I plunged into the jungle path
+that my kebuns had cut with their keen parangs, or jungle-knives. Ten
+feet within the confines of the forest the metallic glare of the sun
+and the pitiless reflections of the China Sea were lost in a dim,
+green twilight. Far ahead I could hear the half-hearted snarls of
+the cowardly, deserting curs, and Aboo Din's angry voice rapidly
+exhausting the curses of the Koran on their heads.
+
+My men, who were naked save for a cotton sarong wound around their
+waists, slashed here a rubber-vine, there a thorny rattan, and again
+a mass of creepers that were as tenacious as iron ropes, all the time
+pressing forward at a rapid walk. Ofttimes the trail led from the
+solid ground through a swamp where grew great sago palms, and out
+of which a black, sluggish stream flowed toward the straits. Gray
+iguanas and pendants of dove orchids hung from the limbs above,
+and green and gold lizards scuttled up the trees at our approach.
+
+At the first plot of wet ground Aboo Din sent up a shout, and awaited
+my coming. I found him on his hands and knees, gazing stupidly at
+the prints in the moist earth.
+
+"Tuan," he shouted, "see Baboo's feet, one--two--three--more! Praise
+be to Allah!"
+
+I dropped down among the lily-pads and pitcher-plants beside him.
+There, sure enough, close by the catlike footmarks of the tiger, was
+the perfect impression of one of Baboo's bare feet. Farther on was the
+imprint of another, and then a third. Wonderful! The intervals between
+the several footmarks were far enough apart for the stride of a man!
+
+"Apa?" (What does it mean?) I said.
+
+Aboo Din tore his hair and called upon Allah and the assembled Malays
+to witness that he was the father of this Baboo, but that, in the
+sight of Mohammed, he was innocent of this witchcraft. He had striven
+from Hari Rahmadan to Hari Rahmanan to bring this four-year-old up in
+the light of the Koran, but here he was striding through the jungle,
+three feet and more at a step, holding to a tiger's tail!
+
+I shouted with laughter as the truth dawned upon me. It must be
+so,--Baboo was alive. His footprints were before me. He was being
+dragged through the jungle by a full-grown Malayan tiger! How else
+explain his impossible strides, overlapping the beast's marks!
+
+Aboo Din turned his face toward Mecca, and his lips moved in prayer.
+
+"May Allah be kind to this tiger!" he mumbled. "He is in the hands
+of a witch. We shall find him as harmless as an old cat. Baboo will
+break out his teeth with a club of billion wood and bite off his
+claws with his own teeth. Allah is merciful!"
+
+We pushed on for half an hour over a dry, foliage-cushioned strip
+of ground that left no trace of the pursued. At the second wet spot
+we dashed forward eagerly and scanned the trail for signs of Baboo,
+but only the pads of the tiger marred the surface of the slime.
+
+Aboo Din squatted at the root of a huge mangrove and broke forth
+into loud lamentations, while the last remaining cur took advantage
+of his preoccupation to sneak back on the homeward trail.
+
+"Aboo," I commanded sarcastically, "pergie! (move on!) Baboo is a
+man and a witch. He is tired of walking, and is riding on the back
+of the tiger!"
+
+Aboo gazed into my face incredulously for a moment; then, picking up
+his parang and tightening his sarong, strode on ahead without a word.
+
+At noon we came upon a sandy stretch of soil that contained
+a few diseased cocoanut palms, fringed by a sluggish lagoon,
+and a great banian tree whose trunk was hardly more than a mass
+of interlaced roots. A troop of long-armed wah-wah monkeys were
+scolding and whistling within its dense foliage with surprising
+intensity. Occasionally one would drop from an outreaching limb to
+one of the pendulous roots, and then, with a shrill whistle of fright,
+spring back to the protection of his mates.
+
+A Malay silenced them by throwing a half-ripe cocoanut into the
+midst of the tree, and we moved on to the shade of the sturdiest
+palm. There we sat down to rest and eat some biscuits softened in
+the milk of a cocoanut.
+
+"There is a boa in the roots of the banian, Aboo," I said, looking
+longingly toward its deep shadow.
+
+He nodded his head, and drew from the pouch in the knot in his sarong
+a few broken fragments of areca nut. These he wrapped in a lemon leaf
+well smeared with lime, and tucked the entire mass into the corner
+of his mouth.
+
+In a moment a brilliant red juice dyed his lips, and he closed his
+eyes in happy contentment, oblivious, for the time, of the sand and
+fallen trunks that seemed to dance in the parching rays of the sun,
+oblivious, even, of the loss of his first-born.
+
+I was revolving in my mind whether there was any use in continuing
+the chase, which I would have given up long before, had I not known
+that a tiger who has eaten to repletion is both timid and lazy. This
+one had certainly breakfasted on a dog or on some animal before
+encountering Baboo.
+
+I had hoped that possibly the barking of the curs might have caused
+him to drop the child, and make off where pursuit would be impossible;
+but so far we had, after those footprints, found neither traces of
+Baboo alive, nor the blood which should have been seen had the tiger
+killed the child.
+
+Suddenly a long, pear-shaped mangrove-pod struck me full in the
+breast. I sprang up in surprise, for I was under a cocoanut tree,
+and there was no mangrove nearer than the lagoon.
+
+A Malay looked up sleepily, and pointed toward the wide-spreading
+banian.
+
+"Monkey, Tuan!"
+
+My eyes followed the direction indicated, and could just distinguish a
+grinning face among the interlacing roots at the base of the tree. So
+I picked up the green, dartlike end of the pod, and took careful aim
+at the brown face and milk-white teeth.
+
+Then it struck me as peculiar that a monkey, after all the evidence
+of fright we had so lately witnessed, should seek a hiding-place that
+must be within easy reach of its greatest enemy, the boa-constrictor.
+
+Aboo Din had aroused himself, and was looking intently in the same
+direction. Before I could take a step toward the tree he had leaped
+to his feet, and was bounding across the little space, shouting,
+"Baboo! Baboo!"
+
+The small brown face instantly disappeared, and we were left staring
+blankly at a dark opening into the heart of the woody maze. Then we
+heard the small, well-known voice of Baboo:--
+
+"Tabek (greeting), Tuan! Greeting, Aboo Din! Tuan Consul no whip,
+Baboo come out."
+
+Aboo Din ran his long, naked arm into the opening in pursuit of his
+first-born--the audacious boy who would make terms with his white
+master!
+
+"Is it not enough before Allah that this son should cause me, a Hadji,
+to curse daily, but now he must bewitch tigers and dictate terms to
+the Tuan and to me, his father? He shall feel the strength of my wrist;
+I will--O Allah!"
+
+Aboo snatched forth his arm with a howl of pain. One of his fingers
+was bleeding profusely, and the marks of tiny teeth showed plainly
+where Baboo had closed them on the offending hand.
+
+"Biak, Baboo, mari!" (Good, come forth!) I said.
+
+First the round, soft face of the small miscreant appeared; then
+the head, and then the naked little body. Aboo Din grasped him in
+his arms, regardless of his former threats, or of the blood that was
+flowing from his wounds. Then, amid caresses and promises to Allah
+to kill fire-fighting cocks, the father hugged and kissed Baboo until
+he cried out with pain.
+
+After each Malay had taken the little fellow in his arms, I turned
+to Baboo and said, while I tried to be severe,--
+
+"Baboo, where is tiger?"
+
+"Sudah mati (dead), Tuan," he answered with dignity. "Tiger over there,
+Tuan. Sladang kill. I hid here and wait for Aboo Din!"
+
+He touched his forehead with the back of his brown palm. There was
+nothing, either in the little fellow's bearing or words, that betrayed
+fear or bravado. It was only one mishap more or less to him.
+
+We followed Baboo's lead to the edge of the jungle, and there,
+stretched out in the hot sand, lay the great, tawny beast, stamped
+and pawed until he was almost unrecognizable.
+
+All about him were the hoof-marks of the great sladang, the fiercest
+and wildest animal of the peninsula--the Malayan bull that will charge
+a tiger, a black lion, a boa, and even a crocodile, on sight. Hunters
+will go miles to avoid one of them, and a herd of elephants will go
+trumpeting away in fear at their approach.
+
+"Kuching besar (big cat) eat Baboo's chow dog, then sleep in
+lallang grass,"--this was the child's story. "Baboo find, and say,
+'Bagus kuching (pretty kitty), see Baboo's doll?' Kuching no like
+Baboo's doll mem consul give. Kuching run away. Baboo catch tail,
+run too. Kuching go long ways. Baboo 'fraid Aboo Din whip and tell
+kuching must go back. Kuching pick Baboo up in mouth when Baboo let go.
+
+"Kuching hurt Baboo. Baboo stick fingers in kuching's eye. Kuching
+no more hurt Baboo. Kuching stop under banian tree and sleep. Big
+sladang come, fight kuching. Baboo sorry for good kuching. Baboo hid
+from sladang,--Aboo Din no whip Baboo?"
+
+His voice dropped to a pathetic little quaver, and he put up his
+hands with an appealing gesture; but his brown legs were drawn back
+ready to flee should Aboo Din make one hostile move.
+
+"Baboo," I said, "you are a hero!"
+
+Baboo opened his little black eyes, but did not dispute me.
+
+"You shall go to Mecca when you grow up, and become a Hadji, and when
+you come back the high kadi shall take you in the mosque and make
+a kateeb of you," said I. "Now put your forehead to the ground and
+thank the good Allah that the kuching had eaten dog before he got you."
+
+Baboo did as he was told, but I think that in his heart he was more
+grateful that for once he had evaded a whipping than for his remarkable
+escape. A little later the punghulo came up with a half-dozen shikaris,
+or hunters, and a pack of hunting dogs. The men skinned the mutilated
+carcass of the only "good tiger" I met during my three years' hunting
+in the jungles of this strange old peninsula.
+
+
+
+
+
+BABOO'S PIRATES
+
+An Adventure in the Pahang River
+
+
+There was a scuffle in the outer office, and a thin, piping voice
+was calling down all the curses of the Koran on the heads of my great
+top-heavy Hindu guards.
+
+"Sons of dogs," I heard in the most withering contempt, "I will see
+the Tuan Consul. Know he is my father."
+
+A tall Sikh, with his great red turban awry and his brown kaki uniform
+torn and soiled, pushed through the bamboo chicks and into my presence.
+
+He was dragging a small bit of naked humanity by the folds of its
+faded cotton sarong.
+
+The powerful soldier was hot and flushed, and a little stream of
+blood trickling from his finger tips showed where they had come in
+contact with his captive's teeth. It was as though an elephant had
+been worried by a pariah cur.
+
+"Your Excellency," he said, salaaming and gasping for breath.
+
+"It is Baboo, the Harimau-Anak!"
+
+Baboo wrenched from the guard's grasp and glided up to my desk. The
+back of his open palm went to his forehead, and his big brown eyes
+looked up appealingly into mine.
+
+"What is it, Tiger-Child?" I asked, bestowing on him the title the
+Malays of Kampong Glam had given him as a perpetual reminder of his
+famous adventure.
+
+Dimples came into either tear-stained cheek. He smoothed out the rents
+in his small sarong, and without deigning to notice his late captor,
+said in a soft sing-song voice:--
+
+"Tuan Consul, Baboo want to go with the Heaven-Born to Pahang.
+Baboo six years old,--can fight pirates like Aboo Din, the father. May
+Mohammed make Tuan as odorous as musk!"
+
+"You are a boaster before Allah, Baboo," I said, smiling.
+
+Baboo dropped his head in perfectly simulated contrition.
+
+"I have thought much, Tuan."
+
+News had come to me that an American merchant ship had been wrecked
+near the mouth of the Pahang River, and that the Malays, who were at
+the time in revolt against the English Resident, had taken possession
+of its cargo of petroleum and made prisoners of the crew.
+
+I had asked the colonial governor for a guard of five Sikhs and a
+launch, that I might steam up the coast and investigate the alleged
+outrage before appealing officially to the British government.
+
+Of course Baboo went, much to the disgust of Aboo Din, the syce.
+
+I never was able to refuse the little fellow anything, and I knew if
+I left him behind he would be revenged by running away.
+
+I had vowed again and again that Baboo should stay lost the next
+time he indulged in his periodical vanishing act, but each time when
+night came and Aboo Din, the syce, and Fatima, the mother, crept
+pathetically along the veranda to where I was smoking and steeling
+my heart against the little rascal, I would snatch up my cork helmet
+and spring into my cart, which Aboo Din had kept waiting inside the
+stables for the moment when I should relent.
+
+Since Baboo had become a hero and earned the appellation of the
+Harimau-Anak, his vanity directed his footsteps toward Kampong Glam,
+the Malay quarter of Singapore. Here he was generally to be found,
+seated on a richly hued Indian rug, with his feet drawn up under him,
+amid a circle of admiring shopkeepers, syces, kebuns, and fishermen,
+narrating for the hundredth time how he had been caught at Changhi
+by a tiger, carried through the jungle on its back until he came to
+a great banian tree, into which he had crawled while the tiger slept,
+how a sladang (wild bull) came out of the lagoon and killed the tiger,
+and how Tuan Consul and Aboo Din, the father, had found him and kissed
+him many times.
+
+Often he enlarged on the well-known story and repeated long
+conversations that he had carried on with the tiger while they were
+journeying through the jungle.
+
+A brass lamp hung above his head in which the cocoanut oil sputtered
+and burned and cast a fitful half-light about the box-like stall.
+
+Only the eager faces of the listeners stood out clear and distinct
+against the shadowy background of tapestries from Madras and Bokhara,
+soft rich rugs from Afghanistan and Persia, curiously wrought finger
+bowls of brass and copper from Delhi and Siam, and piles of cunningly
+painted sarongs from Java.
+
+Close against a naked fisherman sat the owner of the bazaar in tall,
+conical silk-plaited hat and flowing robes, ministering to the wants
+of the little actor, as the soft, monotonous voice paused for a brief
+instant for the tiny cups of black coffee.
+
+I never had the heart to interrupt him in the midst of one of these
+dramatic recitals, but would stand respectfully without the circle
+of light until he had finished the last sentence.
+
+He was not frightened when I thrust the squatting natives right
+and left, and he did not forget to arise and touch the back of his
+open palm to his forehead, with a calm and reverent, "Tabek, Tuan"
+(Greeting, my lord).
+
+
+
+So Baboo went with us to fight pirates.
+
+He unrolled his mat out on the bow where every dash of warm salt
+water wet his brown skin, and where he could watch the flying fish
+dash across our way.
+
+He was very quiet during the two days of the trip, as though he were
+fully conscious of the heavy responsibility that rested upon his young
+shoulders. I had called him a boaster and it had cut him to the quick.
+
+We found the wreck of the Bunker Hill on a sunken coral reef near the
+mouth of the Pahang River, but every vestige of her cargo and stores
+was gone, even to the glass in her cabin windows and the brasses on
+her rails.
+
+We worked in along the shore and kept a lookout for camps or signals,
+but found none.
+
+I decided to go up the river as far as possible in the launch in
+hope of coming across some trace of the missing crew, although I
+was satisfied that they had been captured by the noted rebel chief,
+the Orang Kayah of Semantan, or by his more famous lieutenant, the
+crafty Panglima Muda of Jempol, and were being held for ransom.
+
+It was late in the afternoon when we entered the mouth of the Sungi
+Pahang.
+
+Aboo Din advised a delay until the next morning.
+
+"The Orang Kayah's Malays are pirates, Tuan," he said, with a sinister
+shrug of his bare shoulders, "he has many men and swift praus; the
+Dutch, at Rio, have sold them guns, and they have their krises,--they
+are cowards in the day."
+
+I smiled at the syce's fears.
+
+I knew that the days of piracy in the Straits of Malacca, save for
+an occasional outbreak of high-sea petty larceny on a Chinese lumber
+junk or a native trader's tonkang, were past, and I did not believe
+that the rebels would have the hardihood to attack, day or night,
+a boat, however unprotected, bearing the American flag.
+
+For an hour or more we ran along between the mangrove-bordered shores
+against a swiftly flowing, muddy current.
+
+The great tangled roots of these trees stood up out of the water like
+a fretwork of lace, and the interwoven branches above our heads shut
+out the glassy glare of the sun. We pushed on until the dim twilight
+faded out, and only a phosphorescent glow on the water remained to
+reveal the snags that marked our course.
+
+The launch was anchored for the night close under the bank, where
+the maze of mangroves was beginning to give place to the solid ground
+and the jungle.
+
+Myriads of fireflies settled down on us and hung from the low limbs
+of the overhanging trees, relieving the hot, murky darkness with
+their thousands of throbbing lamps.
+
+From time to time a crocodile splashed in the water as he slid heavily
+down the clayey bank at the bow.
+
+In the trees and rubber-vines all about us a colony of long-armed
+wah-wah monkeys whistled and chattered, and farther away the sharp,
+rasping note of a cicada kept up a continuous protest at our invasion.
+
+At intervals the long, quivering yell of a tiger frightened the
+garrulous monkeys into silence, and made us peer apprehensively toward
+the impenetrable blackness of the jungle.
+
+Aboo Din came to me as I was arranging my mosquito curtains for
+the night. He was casting quick, timid glances over his shoulder as
+he talked.
+
+"Tuan, I no like this place. Too close bank. Ten boat-lengths down
+stream better. Baboo swear by Allah he see faces behind trees,--once,
+twice. Baboo good eyes."
+
+I shook off the uncanny feeling that the place was beginning to cast
+over me, and turned fiercely on the faithful Aboo Din.
+
+He slunk away with a low salaam, muttering something about the
+Heaven-Born being all wise, and later I saw him in deep converse with
+his first-born under a palm-thatched cadjang on the bow.
+
+I was half inclined to take Aboo Din's advice and drop down the
+stream. Then it occurred to me that I might better face an imaginary
+foe than the whirlpools and sunken snags of the Pahang.
+
+I posted sentinels fore and aft and lay down and closed my eyes to
+the legion of fireflies that made the night luminous, and my ears
+to the low, musical chant that arose fitfully from among my Malay
+servants on the stern.
+
+The Sikhs were big, massive fellows, fully six feet tall, with towering
+red turbans that accentuated their height fully a foot.
+
+They were regular artillery-men from Fort Canning, and had seen
+service all over India.
+
+They had not been in Singapore long enough to become acquainted
+with the Malay language or character, but they knew their duty,
+and I trusted to their military training rather than to my Malay's
+superior knowledge for our safety during the night.
+
+I found out later that the cunning in Baboo's small brown finger was
+worth all the precision and drill in the Sikh sergeant's great body.
+
+I fell asleep at last, lulled by the tenderly crooned promises of
+the Koran, and the drowsy, intermittent prattle of the monkeys among
+the varnished leaves above. The night was intensely hot; not a breath
+of air could stir within our living-cabin, and the cooling moisture
+which always comes with nightfall on the equator was lapped up by the
+thirsty fronds above our heads, so that I had not slept many hours
+before I awoke dripping with perspiration, and faint.
+
+There was an impression in my mind that I had been awakened by the
+falling of glass.
+
+The Sikh saluted silently as I stepped out on the deck.
+
+It lacked some hours of daylight, and there was nothing to do but go
+back to my bed, vowing never again to camp for the night along the
+steaming shores of a jungle-covered stream.
+
+I slept but indifferently; I missed the cooling swish of the punkah,
+and all through my dreams the crackle and breaking of glass seemed
+to mingle with the insistent buzz of the tiger-gnats.
+
+Baboo's diminutive form kept flitting between me and the fireflies.
+
+The first half-lights of morning were struggling down through the
+green canopy above when I was brought to my feet by the discharge of
+a Winchester and a long, shrill cry of fright and pain.
+
+Before I could disentangle myself from the meshes of the mosquito net
+I could see dimly a dozen naked forms drop lightly on to the deck
+from the obscurity of the bank, followed in each case by a long,
+piercing scream of pain.
+
+I snatched up my revolver and rushed out on to the deck in my bare
+feet.
+
+Some one grasped me by the shoulder and shouted:--
+
+"Jaga biak, biak, Tuan (be careful, Tuan), pirates!"
+
+I recognized Aboo Din's voice, and I checked myself just as my feet
+came in contact with a broken beer bottle.
+
+The entire surface of the little deck was strewn with glittering
+star-shaped points that corresponded with the fragments before me.
+
+I had not a moment to investigate, however, for in the gloom, where
+the bow of the launch touched the foliage-meshed bank, a scene of
+wild confusion was taking place.
+
+Shadowy forms were leaping, one after another, from the branches above
+on to the deck. I slowly cocked my revolver, doubting my senses,
+for each time one of the invaders reached the deck he sprang into
+the air with the long, thrilling cry of pain that had awakened me,
+and with another bound was on the bulwarks and over the side of the
+launch, clinging to the railing.
+
+With each cry, Baboo's mocking voice came out, shrill and exultant,
+from behind a pile of life-preservers. "O Allah, judge the dogs. They
+would kris the great Tuan as he slept--the pariahs!--but they forgot
+so mean a thing as Baboo!"
+
+The smell of warm blood filled the air, and a low snarl among the
+rubber-vines revealed the presence of a tiger.
+
+I felt Aboo Din's hand tremble on my shoulder.
+
+The five Sikhs were drawn up in battle array before the cabin door,
+waiting for the word of command. I glanced at them and hesitated.
+
+"Tid 'apa, Tuan" (never mind), Aboo Din whispered with a proud ring
+in his voice.
+
+"Baboo blow Orang Kayah's men away with the breath of his mouth."
+
+As he spoke the branches above the bow were thrust aside and a dark
+form hung for an instant as though in doubt, then shot straight down
+upon the corrugated surface of the deck.
+
+As before, a shriek of agony heralded the descent, followed by
+Baboo's laugh, then the dim shape sprang wildly upon the bulwark,
+lost its hold, and went over with a great splash among the labyrinth
+of snakelike mangrove roots.
+
+There was the rushing of many heavy forms through the red mud,
+a snapping of great jaws, and there was no mistaking the almost
+mortal cry that arose from out the darkness. I had often heard it
+when paddling softly up one of the wild Malayan rivers.
+
+It was the death cry of a wah-wah monkey facing the cruel jaws of
+a crocodile.
+
+I plunged my fingers into my ears to smother the sound.  I understood
+it all now. Baboo's pirates, the dreaded Orang Kayah's rebels, were the
+troop of monkeys we had heard the night before in the tambusa trees.
+
+"Baboo," I shouted, "come here! What does this all mean?"
+
+The Tiger-Child glided from behind the protecting pile, and came
+close up to my legs.
+
+"Tuan," he whimpered, "Baboo see many faces behind trees. Baboo 'fraid
+for Tuan,--Tuan great and good,--save Baboo from tiger,--Baboo break
+up all glass bottles--old bottles--Tuan no want old bottle--Baboo
+and Aboo Din, the father, put them on deck so when Orang Kayah's men
+come out of jungle and drop from trees on deck they cut their feet
+on glass. Baboo is through talking,--Tuan no whip Baboo!"
+
+There was the pathetic little quaver in his voice that I knew so well.
+
+"But they were monkeys, Baboo, not pirates."
+
+Baboo shrugged his brown shoulders and kept his eyes on my feet.
+
+"Allah is good!" he muttered.
+
+Allah was good; they might have been pirates.
+
+The snarl of the tiger was growing more insistent and near. I gave
+the order, and the boat backed out into mid-stream.
+
+As the sun was reducing the gloom of the sylvan tunnel to a translucent
+twilight, we floated down the swift current toward the ocean.
+
+I had given up all hope of finding the shipwrecked men, and decided
+to ask the government to send a gunboat to demand their release.
+
+As the bow of the launch passed the wreck of the Bunker Hill and
+responded to the long even swell of the Pacific, Baboo beckoned
+sheepishly to Aboo Din, and together they swept all trace of his
+adventure into the green waters.
+
+Among the souvenirs of my sojourn in Golden Chersonese is a bit
+of amber-colored glass bearing the world-renowned name of a London
+brewer. There is a dark stain on one side of it that came from the
+hairy foot of one of Baboo's "pirates."
+
+
+
+
+
+HOW WE PLAYED ROBINSON CRUSOE
+
+In the Straits of Malacca
+
+
+Two hours' steam south from Singapore, out into the famous Straits of
+Malacca, or one day's steam north from the equator, stands Raffles's
+Lighthouse. Sir Stamford Raffles, the man from whom it took its name,
+rests in Westminster Abbey, and a heroic-sized bronze statue of him
+graces the centre of the beautiful ocean esplanade of Singapore,
+the city he founded.
+
+It was on the rocky island on which stands this light, that we--the
+mistress and I--played Robinson Crusoe, or, to be nearer the truth,
+Swiss Family Robinson.
+
+It was hard to imagine, I confess, that the beautiful steam launch
+that brought us was a wreck; that our half-dozen Chinese servants were
+members of the family; that the ton of impedimenta was the flotsam of
+the sea; that the Eurasian keeper and his attendants were cannibals;
+but we closed our eyes to all disturbing elements, and only remembered
+that we were alone on a sunlit rock in the midst of a sunlit sea,
+and that the dreams of our childhood were, to some extent, realized.
+
+What live American boy has not had the desire, possibly but
+half-admitted, to some day be like his hero, dear old Crusoe, on a
+tropical island, monarch of all, hampered by no dictates of society
+or fashion? I admit my desire, and, further, that it did not leave
+me as I grew older.
+
+We had just time to inspect our little island home before the sun
+went down, far out in the Indian Ocean.
+
+Originally the island had been but a barren, uneven rock, the
+resting-place for gulls; but now its summit has been made flat by a
+coating of concrete. There is just enough earth between the concrete
+and the rocky edges of the island to support a circle of cocoanut
+trees, a great almond tree, and a queer-looking banian tree, whose
+wide-spreading arms extend over nearly half the little plaza. Below
+the lighthouse, and set back like caves into the side of the island,
+are the kitchen and the servants' quarters, a covered passageway
+connecting them with the rotunda of the tower, in which we have set
+our dining table.
+
+Ah Ming, our "China boy," seemed to be inveterate in his determination
+to spoil our Swiss Family Robinson illusion. We were hardly settled
+before he came to us.
+
+"Mem" (mistress), "no have got ice-e-blox. Ice-e all glow away."
+
+"Very well, Ming. Dig a hole in the ground, and put the ice in it."
+
+"How can dig? Glound all same, hard like ice-e."
+
+"Well, let the ice melt," I replied. "Robinson Crusoe had no ice."
+
+In a half-hour Jim, the cook, came up to speak to the "Mem." He
+lowered his cue, brushed the creases out of his spotless shirt,
+drew his face down, and commenced:--
+
+"Mem, no have got chocolate, how can make puddlin'?"
+
+I laughed outright. Jim looked hurt.
+
+"Jim, did you ever hear of one Crusoe?"
+
+"No, Tuan!" (Lord.)
+
+"Well, he was a Tuan who lived for thirty years without once eating
+chocolate 'puddlin'.' We'll not eat any for ten days. Sabe?"
+
+Jim retired, mortified and astonished.
+
+Inside of another half-hour, the Tukang Ayer, or water-carrier, arrived
+on the scene. He was simply dressed in a pair of knee-breeches. He
+complained of a lack of silver polish, and was told to pound up a
+stone for the knives, and let the silver alone.
+
+We are really in the heart of a small archipelago. All about us are
+verdure-covered islands. They are now the homes of native fishermen,
+but a century ago they were hiding-places for the fierce Malayan
+pirates whose sanguinary deeds made the peninsula a byword in the
+mouths of Europeans.
+
+A rocky beach extends about the island proper, contracting and
+expanding as the tide rises and falls. On this beach a hundred and one
+varieties of shells glisten in the salt water, exposing their delicate
+shades of coloring to the rays of the sun. Coral formations of endless
+design and shape come to view through the limpid spectrum, forming
+a perfect submarine garden of wondrous beauty. Through the shrubs,
+branches, ferns, and sponges of coral, the brilliantly colored fish
+of the Southern seas sport like goldfish in some immense aquarium.
+
+We draw out our chairs within the protection of the almond tree, and
+watch the sun sink slowly to a level with the masts of a bark that is
+bound for Java and the Bornean coasts. The black, dead lava of our
+island becomes molten for the time, and the flakes of salt left on
+the coral reef by the outgoing tide are filled with suggestions of
+the gold of the days of '49. A faint breeze rustles among the long,
+fan-like leaves of the palm, and brings out the rich yellow tints
+with their background of green. A clear, sweet aroma comes from out
+the almond tree. The red sun and the white sheets of the bark sail
+away together for the Spice Islands of the South Pacific.
+
+We sleep in a room in the heart of the lighthouse. The stairway
+leading to it is so steep that we find it necessary to hold on to a
+knotted rope as we ascend. Hundreds of little birds, no larger than
+sparrows, dash by the windows, flying into the face of the gale that
+rages during the night, keeping up all the time a sharp, high note
+that sounds like wind blowing on telegraph wires.
+
+Every morning, at six o'clock, Ah Ming clambers up the perpendicular
+stairway, with tea and toast. We swallow it hurriedly, wrap a sarong
+about us, and take a dip in the sea, the while keeping our eyes open
+for sharks. Often, after a bath, while stretched out in a long chair,
+we see the black fins of a man-eater cruising just outside the reef. I
+do not know that I ever hit one, but I have used a good deal of lead
+firing at them.
+
+One morning we started on an exploring expedition, in the keeper's
+jolly-boat. It was only a short distance to the first island, a small
+rocky one, with a bit of sandy beach, along which were scattered
+the charred embers of past fires. From under our feet darted the
+grotesque little robber-crabs, with their stolen shell houses on their
+backs. A great white jellyfish, looking like a big tapioca pudding,
+had been washed up with the tide out of the reach of the sea, and a
+small colony of ants was feasting on it. We did not try to explore
+the interior of the islet. We named it Fir Island from its crown of
+fir-like casuarina trees, which sent out on every breeze a balsamic
+odor that was charged with far-away New England recollections.
+
+The next island was a large one. The keeper said it was called Pulo
+Seneng, or Island of Leisure, and held a little kampong, or village of
+Malays, under an old punghulo, or chief, named Wahpering. We found,
+on nearing the verdure-covered island, that it looked much larger
+than it really was. The woods grew out into the sea for a quarter
+of a mile. We entered the wood by a narrow walled inlet, and found
+ourselves for the first time in a mangrove swamp. The trees all seemed
+to be growing on stilts. A perfect labyrinth of roots stood up out of
+the water, like a rough scaffold, on which rested the tree trunks,
+high and dry above the flood.  From the limbs of the trees hung the
+seed pods, two feet in length, sharp-pointed at the lower end, while on
+the upper end, next to the tree, was a russet pear-shaped growth. They
+are so nicely balanced that when in their maturity they drop from the
+branches, they fall upright in the mud, literally planting themselves.
+
+The punghulo's house, or bungalow, stood at the head of the inlet. The
+old man--he must have been sixty--donned his best clothes, relieved his
+mouth of a great red quid of betel, and came out to welcome us. He
+gracefully touched his forehead with the back of his open palm,
+and mumbled the Malay greeting:--
+
+"Tabek, Tuan?" (How are you, my lord?)
+
+When the keeper gave him our cards, and announced us in florid
+language, the genial old fellow touched his forehead again, and in
+his best Bugis Malay begged the great Rajah and Ranee to enter his
+humble home.
+
+The only way of entering a Malay home is by a rickety ladder six feet
+high, and through a four-foot opening. I am afraid that the great
+"Rajah and Ranee" lost some of their lately acquired dignity in
+accepting the invitation.
+
+Wahpering's bungalow, other than being larger and roomier than
+the ordinary bungalow, was exactly like all others in style and
+architecture.
+
+It was built close to the water's edge, on palm posts six feet above
+the ground. This was for protection from the tiger, from thieves, from
+the water, and for sanitary reasons. Within the house we could just
+stand upright. The floor was of split bamboo, and was elastic to the
+foot, causing a sensation which at first made us step carefully. The
+open places left by the crossing of the bamboo slats were a great
+convenience to the punghulo's wives, as they could sweep all the refuse
+of the house through them; they might also be a great accommodation to
+the punghulo's enemies, if he had any, for they could easily ascertain
+the exact mat on which he slept, and stab him with their keen krises
+from beneath.
+
+In one corner of the room was the hand-loom on which the punghulo's
+old wife was weaving the universal article of dress, the sarong.
+
+The weaving of a sarong represents the labor of twenty days, and
+when we gave the dried-up old worker two dollars and a half for one,
+her syrah-stained gums broke forth from between her bright-red lips
+in a ghastly grin of pleasure.
+
+There must have been the representatives of at least four generations
+under the punghulo's hospitable roof. Men and women, alike, were
+dressed in the skirt-like sarong which fell from the waist down; above
+that some of the older women wore another garment called a kabaya. The
+married women were easily distinguishable by their swollen gums and
+filed teeth.
+
+The roof and sides of the house were of attap. This is made from
+the long, arrow-like leaves of the nipah palm. Unlike its brother
+palms--the cocoa, the sago, the gamooty, and the areca--the nipah is
+short, and more like a giant cactus in growth. Its leaves are stripped
+off by the natives, then bent over a bamboo rod and sewed together with
+fibres of the same palm. When dry they become glazed and waterproof.
+
+The tall, slender areca palm, which stands about every kampong,
+supplies the natives with their great luxury--an acorn, known as the
+betel-nut, which, when crushed and mixed with lime leaves, takes the
+place of our chewing tobacco. In fact, the bright-red juice seen oozing
+from the corners of a Malay's mouth is as much a part of himself as
+is his sarong or kris. Betel-nut chewing holds its own against the
+opium of the Chinese and the tobacco of the European.
+
+As soon as we shook hands ceremoniously with the punghulo's oldest
+wife, and tabeked to the rest of his big family, the old man scrambled
+down the ladder, and sent a boy up a cocoanut tree for some fresh
+nuts. In a moment half a dozen of the great, oval, green nuts came
+pounding down into the sand. Another little fellow snatched them up,
+and with a sharp parang, or hatchet-like knife, cut away the soft shuck
+until the cocoanut took the form of a pyramid, at the apex of which
+he bored a hole, and a stream of delicious, cool milk gurgled out. We
+needed no second invitation to apply our lips to the hole. The meat
+inside was so soft that we could eat it with a spoon. The cocoanut
+of commerce contains hardly a suggestion of the tender, fleshy pulp
+of a freshly picked nut.
+
+We left the punghulo's house with the old chief in the bow of our
+boat--he insisted upon seeing that we were properly announced to his
+subjects--and proceeded along the coast for half a mile, and then up
+a swampy lagoon to its head.
+
+The tall tops of the palms wrapped everything in a cool, green
+twilight. The waters of the lagoon were filled with little bronze
+forms, swimming and sporting about in its tepid depths regardless of
+the cruel eyes that gleamed at them from great log-like forms among
+the mangrove roots.
+
+Dozens of naked children fled up the rickety ladders of their homes
+as we approached. Ring-doves flew through the trees, and tame monkeys
+chattered at us from every corner. The men came out to meet us, and
+did the hospitalities of their village; and when we left, our boat
+was loaded down with presents of fish and fruit.
+
+Almost every day after that did we visit the kampong, and were always
+welcomed in the same cordial manner.
+
+Wahpering was tireless in his attentions. He kept his Sampan Besar,
+or big boat, with its crew at our disposal day after day.
+
+One day I showed him the American flag. He gazed at it thoughtfully and
+said, "Biak!" (Good.) "How big your country?" I tried to explain. He
+listened for a moment. "Big as Negri Blanda?" (Holland.) I laughed. "A
+thousand times larger!" The old fellow shook his head sadly, and
+looked at me reproachfully.
+
+"Tidah! Tidah!" (No, no.) "Rajah, Orang Blanda (Dutchman) show me
+chart of the world. Holland all red. Take almost all the world. Rest
+of country small, small. All in one little corner. How can Rajah say
+his country big?"
+
+There was no denying the old man's knowledge; I, too, had seen one
+of these Dutch maps of the world, which are circulated in Java to
+make the natives think that Holland is the greatest nation on earth.
+
+One day glided into another with surprising rapidity. We could swim,
+explore, or lie out in our long chairs and read and listlessly
+dream. All about our little island the silver sheen of the sea
+was checkered with sails. These strange native craft held for me
+a lasting fascination. I gazed out at them as they glided by and
+saw in them some of the rose-colored visions of my youth. Piracy,
+Indian Rajahs, and spice islands seemed to live in their queer red
+sails and palm-matting roofs. At night a soft, warm breeze blew from
+off shore and lulled us to sleep ere we were aware.
+
+One morning the old chief made us a visit before we were up. He
+announced his approach by a salute from a muzzle-loading musket. I
+returned it by a discharge from my revolver. He had come over
+with the morning tide to ask us to spend the day, as his guests,
+wild-pig hunting. Of course we accepted with alacrity. I am not
+going to tell you how we found all the able-bodied men and dogs on
+the island awaiting us, how they beat the jungle with frantic yells
+and shouts while we waited on the opposite side, or even how many
+pigs we shot. It would all take too long.
+
+We went fishing every day. The many-colored and many-shaped fish we
+caught were a constant wonderment to us. One was bottle-green, with
+sky-blue fins and tail, and striped with lines of gold. Its skin
+was stiff and firm as patent leather. Another was pale blue, with
+a bright-red proboscis two inches long. We caught cuttle-fish with
+great lustrous eyes, long jelly feelers, and a plentiful supply of
+black fluid; squibs, prawns, mullets, crabs, and devil-fish. These
+last are considered great delicacies by the natives. We had one
+fried. Its meat was perfectly white, and tasted like a tallow candle.
+
+The day on which we were to leave, Wahpering brought us some fruit and
+fish and a pair of ring-doves. Motioning me to one side, he whispered,
+the while looking shyly at the mistress, "Ranee very beautiful! How
+much you pay?" I was staggered for the moment, and made him repeat his
+question. This time I could not mistake him. "How much you pay for
+wife?" He gave his thumb a jerk in the direction of the mistress. I
+saw that he was really serious, so I collected my senses, and with
+a practical, businesslike air answered, "Two hundred dollars." The
+old fellow sighed.
+
+"The great Rajah very rich! I pay fifty for best wife."
+
+I have not tried to tell you all we did on our tropical island playing
+Robinson Crusoe. I have only tried to convey some little impression
+of a happy ten days that will ever be remembered as one more of
+those glorious, Oriental chapters in our lives which are filled with
+the gorgeous colors of crimson and gold, the delicate perfumes of
+spice-laden breezes, and with imperishable visions of a strange,
+old-world life.
+
+They are chapters that we can read over and over again with an ever
+increasing interest as the years roll by.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SARONG
+
+The Malay's Chief Garment
+
+
+No one knows who invented the sarong. When the great Sir Francis
+Drake skirted the beautiful jungle-bound shores of that strange Asian
+peninsula which seems forever to be pointing a wondering finger into
+the very heart of the greatest archipelago in the world, he found
+its inhabitants wearing the sarong. After a lapse of three centuries
+they still wear it,--neither Hindu invasion, Mohammedan conversion,
+Chinese immigration, nor European conquest has ever taken from them
+their national dress. Civilization has introduced many articles of
+clothing; but no matter how many of these are adopted, the Malay,
+from his Highness the Sultan of Johore, to the poorest fisherman of
+a squalid kampong on the muddy banks of a mangrove-hidden stream,
+religiously wears the sarong.
+
+It is only an oblong cloth, this fashion-surviving garb, from two
+to four feet in width and some two yards long; sewn together at the
+ends. It looks like a gingham bag with the bottom out. The wearer
+steps into it, and with two or three ingenious twists tightens it
+round the waist, thus forming a skirt and, at the same time, a belt
+in which he carries the kris, or snake-like dagger, the inevitable
+pouch of areca nut for chewing, and the few copper cents that he dares
+not trust in his unlocked hut. The man's skirt falls to his knees,
+and among the poor class forms his only article of dress, while the
+woman's reaches to her ankles and is worn in connection with another
+sarong that is thrown over her head as a veil, so that when she is
+abroad and meets one of the opposite sex she can, Moslem-like, draw
+it about her face in the form of a long, narrow slit, showing only
+her coal-black eyes and thinly pencilled eyebrows.
+
+In style or design the sarong never changes. Like the tartan of the
+Highlanders, which it greatly resembles, it is invariably a check
+of gay colors. They are all woven of silk or cotton, or of silk and
+cotton mixed, by the native women, and no attap-thatched home is
+complete without its hand-loom.
+
+One day we crawled up the narrow, rickety ladder that led into the
+two by four opening of old Wahpering's palm-shaded home. The little
+punghulo or chief, touched his forehead with the back of his open
+palm as we advanced cautiously over the open bamboo floor toward his
+old wife, who was seated in one corner by a low, horizontal window,
+weaving a sarong on a hand-loom. She looked up pleasantly with a soft
+"Tabek" (Greeting), and went on throwing her shuttle deftly through the
+brilliantly colored threads. The sharp bang of the dark, kamooning-wood
+bar drove the thread in place and left room for another. Back and
+forth flew the shuttle, and thread after thread was added to the
+fabric, yet no perceptible addition seemed to be made.
+
+"How long does it take to finish it?" I asked in Malay.
+
+"Twenty days," she answered, with a broad smile, showing her black,
+filed teeth and syrah-stained lips.
+
+The red and brown sarong which she wore twisted tightly up under her
+armpits had cost her almost a month's work; the green and yellow one
+her chief wore about his waist, a month more; the ones she used as
+screens to divide the interior into rooms, and those of the bevy
+of sons and daughters of all ages that crowded about us each cost
+a month's more; and yet the labor and material combined in each
+represented less than two dollars of our money at the Bazaar in
+Singapore.
+
+I had not the heart to take the one that she offered the mistress,
+but insisted on giving in exchange a pearl-handled penknife, which
+the chief took, with many a touch of his forehead, "as a remembrance
+of the condescension of the Orang American Rajah."
+
+Wahpering's wife was not dressed to receive us, for we had come swiftly
+up the dim lagoon, over which her home was built, and had landed
+on the sandy beach unannounced. Had she known that we were coming,
+she would have been dressed as became the wife of the Punghulo of
+Pulo Seneng (Island of Leisure). The long, black hair would have been
+washed beautifully clean with the juice of limes, and twisted up as a
+crown on the top of her head. In it would have been stuck pins of the
+deep-red gold from Mt. Ophir, and sprays of jasmine and chumpaka. Under
+her silken sarong would have been an inner garment of white cotton,
+about her waist a zone of beaded cloth held in front by an oval plate,
+and over all would have been thrown a long, loose dressing-gown, called
+the kabaya, falling to her knees and fastened down the front to the
+silver girdle with golden brooches. Her toes would have been covered
+with sandals cunningly embroidered in colored beads and gold tinsel.
+
+Wahpering, too, might have added to his sarong a thin vest, buttoned
+close up to the neck, a light dimity baju, or jacket, and a pair of
+loose silk drawers. They made no apology for their appearance, but
+did the honors of the house with a native grace, regaling us with
+the cool, fresh milk of the cocoanut, and the delicious globes of
+the mangosteens.
+
+The glare of the noonday sun, here on the equator, is inconceivable. It
+beats down in bald, irregular waves of heat that seem to stifle
+every living being and to burn the foliage to a cinder. Even the
+sharp, insistent whir of the cicada ceases when the thermometer on
+the sunny side of our palm-thatched bungalow reaches 155 deg.. If I am
+forced to go outside, I don my cork helmet, and hold a paper umbrella
+above it. Even then, after I have gone a half-hour, I feel dizzy and
+sick. I pass native after native, whose only head covering, if they
+have any at all save their short-cut black hair, is a handkerchief,
+stiffened, and tied with a peculiar twist on the head, or a rimless
+cap with possibly a text of the Koran embroidered on its front. It is
+only when they are on the sea from early morning to sunset, that they
+think it worth while to protect their heads with an umbrella-shaped,
+cane-worked head frame like those worn by the natives of Siam and
+China. The women I meet simply draw their sarongs more closely about
+their heads as the sun ascends higher and higher into the heavens, and
+go clattering off down the road in their wooden pattens, unconscious
+of my envy or wonderment.
+
+The sarong is more to the Malay than is the kilt to the Scotchman. It
+is his dress by day and his covering at night. He uses it as a sail
+when far out from land in his cockle-shell boat, or as a bag in which
+to carry his provisions when following an elephant path through the
+dense jungle.
+
+The checks, in its design, although indistinguishable to the European,
+differ according to his tribe or clan, and serve him as a means of
+identification wherever he may be on the peninsula.
+
+The sarong and kris are distinctly and solely Malayan; they are shared
+with no other country; they are to be placed side by side with the
+green turban of the Moslem pilgrim and the cimeter of the Prophet.
+
+A history of one, like the history of the other, embraces all that
+is tragical or romantic in Malayan story.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE KRIS
+
+And how the Malays use it
+
+
+In an old dog-eared copy of Monteith's Geography, I remember a
+picture of a half-dozen pirate prahus attacking a merchantman off a
+jungle-bordered shore. A blazing sun hung high in the heavens above the
+fated ship, and, to my youthful imagination, seemed to beat down on the
+tropical scene with a fierce, remorseless intensity. The wedge-shaped
+tops of some palm-thatched and palm-shaded huts could just be seen,
+set well back from the shore.
+
+I used to think that if I were a boy on that ship, I would slip quietly
+overboard, swim ashore, and while the pirates were busy fighting,
+I would set fire to their homes and so deliver the ship from their
+clutches. Little did I know then of the acres of bewildering mangrove
+swamps filled with the treacherous crocodiles that lie between the
+low-water line and the firm ground of the coast.
+
+But always the most striking thing in the little woodcut to me were
+the curious, snake-like knives that the naked natives held in their
+hands. I had never seen anything like them before. I went to the
+encyclopaedia and found that the name of the knife was spelled kris
+and pronounced creese.
+
+The day-dreams which seemed impossible in the days of Monteith's
+Geography have since been realized. I am living, perhaps, within
+sight of the very place where the scene of the picture was laid;
+for it was supposed to be illustrative of the Malay Peninsula;
+and, as I write, one of those snake-like krises lies on the table
+before me. It is a handsomer kris than those used by the actors in
+that much-studied picture of my youth. The sheath and handle are of
+solid gold--a rich yellow gold, mined at the foot of Mount Ophir,
+the very same mountain so famous in Bible history, from which King
+Solomon brought "gold, peacocks' feathers, and monkeys." The wavy,
+flame-like blade is veined with gold, and its dull silvery surface is
+damascened with as much care as was ever taken with the old swords
+of Damascus. It is only an inch in width and a foot in length and
+does not look half as dangerous as a Turkish cimeter; yet it has a
+history that would put that of the tomahawk or the scalping-knife
+to shame. Many a fat Chinaman, trading between the Java islands and
+Amoy, has felt its keen edge at his throat and seen his rich cargo
+of spices and bird's-nests rifled, his beloved Joss thrown overboard,
+and his queer old junk burnt before his eyes. Many a Dutch and English
+merchantman sailed from Batavia and Bombay in the days of the old East
+India Company and has never more been heard of until some mutilated
+survivor returned with a harrowing tale of Malay piracy and of the
+lightning-like work of the dreaded kris.
+
+I do not know whether my kris has ever taken life or not. Had it done
+so, I do not think the Sultan would have given it to me, for a kris
+becomes almost priceless after its baptism of blood. It is handed
+down from generation to generation, and its sanguine history becomes
+a part of the education of the young. Next to his Koran the kris
+is the most sacred thing the Malay possesses. He regards it with an
+almost superstitious reverence. My kris is dear to me, not from any
+superstitious reasons, but because it was given me by his Highness,
+the Sultan of Johore, the only independent sovereign on the peninsula,
+and because the gold of its sheath came from the jungle-covered slopes
+of Mount Ophir.
+
+The maker of the kris is a person of importance among the Malays,
+and ofttimes he is made by his grateful Rajah a Dato, or Lord, for
+his skill. Like the blades of the sturdy armorers of the Crusades,
+his blades are considered, as he fashions them from well-hammered and
+well-tempered Celebes iron, works of art and models for futurity. He
+is exceedingly punctilious in regard to their shape, size, and general
+formation, and the process of giving them their beautiful water lines
+is quite a ceremony. First the razor-like edges are covered with a
+thin coating of wax to protect them from the action of the acids;
+then a mixture of boiled rice, sulphur, and salt is put on the blade
+and left for seven days until a film of rust rises to the surface. The
+blade is then immersed in the water of a young cocoanut or the juice
+of a pineapple and left seven days longer. It is next brushed with
+the juice of a lemon until all the rust is cleared away, and then
+rubbed with arsenic dissolved in lime-juice and washed with cold
+spring water. Finally it is anointed with cocoanut oil, and as a
+concluding test of its fineness and temper, it is said that in the
+old days its owner would rush out into the kampong, or village,
+and stab the first person he met.
+
+The sheath of the kris is generally made of kamooning wood, but often
+of ivory, gold, or silver. The handle, while more frequently of wood
+or buffalo horn, is sometimes of gold studded with precious stones and
+worth more than all the other possessions of its owner put together.
+
+The kris, too, has its etiquette. It is always worn on the left side
+stuck into the folds of the sarong, or skirt, the national dress of
+the Malay. During an interview it is considered respectful to conceal
+it; and its handle is turned with its point close to the body of the
+wearer, if the wearer be friendly. If, however, there is ill blood
+existing, and the wearer is angry, the kris is exposed, and the point
+of the handle turned the reverse way.
+
+The kris as a weapon of offence and defence is now almost a thing
+of the past. It is rapidly going the way of the tomahawk and the
+boomerang--into the collector's cabinet. There is a law in Singapore
+that forbids its being worn, and outside of Johore and the native
+states it is seldom seen. It is still used as an executioner's knife
+by the protected Sultan of Selangor, its keen point being driven
+into the heart of the victim; but in a few years that practice, too,
+will be abolished by the humane intervention of the English government.
+
+It is to be hoped that the record of the kris is not as bad as it
+has been painted by some, and that at times in its bloody career it
+has been on the side of justice and right. The part it took in the
+piracy that once made the East Indian seas so famous was not always
+done for the sake of gain, but often for revenge and for independence.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WHITE RAJAH OF BORNEO
+
+The Founding of Sarawak
+
+
+In the East Indian seas, by Europeans and natives alike, two names
+are revered with a singleness and devotion that place them side by
+side with the national heroes of all countries.
+
+The men that bear the names are Englishmen, yet the countless islands
+of the vast Malayan archipelago are populated by a hundred European,
+African, and Asiatic races.
+
+Sir Stamford Raffles founded the great city of Singapore, and Sir
+James Brooke, the "White Rajah," carved out of a tropical wilderness
+just across the equator, in Borneo, the kingdom of Sarawak.
+
+There is no one man in all history with whom you may compare Rajah
+Brooke. His career was the score of a hero of the footlights or of
+the dime novel rather than the life of an actual history-maker in
+this prosaic nineteenth century. What is true of him is also true in
+a less degree of his famous nephew and successor, Sir Charles Brooke,
+G. C. M. C., the present Rajah.
+
+One morning in Singapore, as I sipped my tea and broke open one cool,
+delicious mangosteen after another, I was reading in the daily Straits
+Times an account of the descent of a band of head-hunting Dyaks from
+the jungles of the Rejang River in Borneo on an isolated fishing
+kampong, or village,--of how they killed men, women, and children,
+and carried their heads back to their strongholds in triumph, and of
+how, in the midst of their feasting and ceremonies, Rajah Brooke,
+with a little company of fierce native soldiery, had surprised and
+exterminated them to the last man; and just then the sound of heavy
+cannonading in the harbor below caused me to drop my paper.
+
+In a moment the great guns from Fort Canning answered. I
+counted--seventeen--and turned inquiringly to the naked punkah-wallah,
+who stood just outside in the shade of the wide veranda, listlessly
+pulling the rattan rope that moved the stiff fan above me.
+
+His brown, open palm went respectfully to his forehead.
+
+"His Highness, the Rajah of Sarawak," he answered proudly in Malay. "He
+come in gunboat Ranee to the Gymkhana races,--bring gold cup for
+prizes and fast runners. Come every year, Tuan."
+
+I had forgotten that it was the first day of the long-looked-for
+Gymkhana races. A few hours later I met this remarkable man, whose
+thrilling exploits had commanded my earliest boyish admiration.
+
+The kindly old Sultan of Johore, the old rebel Sultan of Pahang,
+the Sultan of Lingae, in all the finery of their native silks and
+jewels, the nobles of their courts, and a dozen other dignitaries,
+were on the grandstand and in the paddock as we entered, yet no
+one but a modest, gray-haired little man by the side of the English
+governor had any place in my thoughts. We knew his history. It was
+as romantic as the wild careers of Pizarro and Cortez; as charming
+as those of Robinson Crusoe and the dear old Swiss Family Robinson;
+as tragic as Captain Kidd's or Morgan's; and withal, it was modelled
+after our own Washington. In him I saw the full realization of every
+boy's wildest dreams,--a king of a tropical island.
+
+The bell above the judges' pavilion sounded, and a little whirlwind
+of running griffins dashed by amid the yells of a thousand natives
+in a dozen different tongues. The Rajah leaned out over the gayly
+decorated railing with the eagerness of a boy, as he watched his own
+colors in the thick of the race.
+
+The surging mass of nakedness below caught sight of him, and another
+yell rent the air, quite distinct from the first, for Malayan and
+Kling, Tamil and Siamese, Dyak and Javanese, Hindu, Bugis, Burmese,
+and Lascar, recognized the famous White Rajah of Borneo, the man who,
+all unaided, had broken the power of the savage head-hunting Dyaks,
+and driven from the seas the fierce Malayan pirates. The yell was
+not a cheer. It was a tribute that a tiger might make to his tamer.
+
+The Rajah understood. He was used to such sinister outbursts of
+admiration, for he never took his eyes from the course. He was secure
+on his throne now, but I could not but wonder if that yell, which sent
+a strange thrill through me, did not bring up recollections of one of
+the hundred sanguinary scenes through which he and his great uncle, the
+elder Rajah Brooke, had gone when fighting for their lives and kingdom.
+
+The Sultan of Johore's griffin won, and the Rajah stepped back to
+congratulate him. I, too, passed over to where he stood, and the
+kindly old Sultan took me by the hand.
+
+"I have a very tender spot in my heart for all Americans," the Rajah
+replied to his Highness's introduction. "It was your great republic
+that first recognized the independence of Sarawak."
+
+As we chatted over the triumph of Gladstone, the silver bill,
+the tariff, and a dozen topics of the day, I was thinking of the
+head-hunters of whom I had read in the morning paper. I was thinking,
+too, of how this man's uncle had, years before, with a boat's crew
+of English boys, carved out of an unknown island a principality
+larger than the state of New York, reduced its savage population
+to orderly tax-paying citizens, cleared the Borneo and Java seas
+of their thousands of pirate praus, and in their place built up a
+merchant fleet and a commerce of nearly five millions of dollars a
+year. The younger Rajah, too, had done his share in the making of
+the state. In his light tweed suit and black English derby, he did
+not look the strange, impossible hero of romance I had painted him;
+but there was something in his quiet, clear, well-bred English accent,
+and the strong, deep lines about his eyes and mouth, that impressed
+one with a consciousness of tremendous reserve force. He spoke always
+slowly, as though wearied by early years of fighting and exposure in
+the searching heat of the Bornean sun.
+
+We became better acquainted later at balls and dinners, and he was
+never tired of thanking me for my country's kindness.
+
+
+
+In 1819, when the English took Malacca and the Malay peninsula from
+the Dutch, they agreed to surrender all claims to the islands south
+of the pirate-infested Straits of Malacca.
+
+The Dutch, contented with the fabulously rich island of Java and its
+twenty-six millions of mild-mannered natives, left the great islands
+of Sumatra, Borneo, and Papua to the savage rulers and savage nations
+that held them.
+
+The son of an English clergyman, on a little schooner, with a friend or
+two and a dozen sailors, sailed into these little known and dangerous
+waters one day nineteen years later. His mind was filled with dreams of
+an East-Indian empire; he was burning to emulate Cortez and Pizarro,
+without practising their abuses. He had entered the English army and
+had been so dangerously wounded while leading a charge in India after
+his superiors had fallen that he had been retired on a pension before
+his twenty-first year.  While regaining his health, he had travelled
+through India, Malaya, and China, and had written a journal of his
+wanderings. During this period his ambitions were crowding him on to
+an enterprise that was as foolhardy as the first voyage of Columbus.
+
+He had spied those great tropical islands that touched the equator,
+and he coveted them.
+
+After his father's death he invested his little fortune in a schooner,
+and in spite of all the protests and prayers of his family and friends,
+he sailed for Singapore, and thence across to the northwest coast of
+Borneo, landing at Kuching, on the Sarawak River, in 1838.
+
+He had no clearly outlined plan of operations,--he was simply waiting
+his chance. The province of Sarawak, a dependency of the Sultan of
+Borneo, was governed by an old native rajah, whose authority was
+menaced by the fierce, head-hunting Dyaks of the interior.  Brooke's
+chance had come. He boldly offered to put down the rebellion if the
+Rajah would make him his general and second to the throne. The Rajah
+cunningly accepted the offer, eager to let the hair-brained young
+infidel annoy his foes, but with no intention of keeping his promise.
+
+After days of marching with his little crew and a small army of
+natives, through the almost impenetrable rubber jungles, after a
+dozen hard-fought battles and deeds of personal heroism, any one
+of which would make a story, the head-hunters were crushed and some
+kind of order restored. He refused to allow the Rajah to torture the
+prisoners,--thereby winning their gratitude,--and he refused to be
+dismissed from his office. He had won his rank, and he appealed to
+the Sultan. The wily Sultan recognized that in this stranger he had
+found a man who would be able to collect his revenue, and much to
+Brooke's surprise, a courier entered Kuching, the capital, one day
+and summarily dismissed the native Rajah and proclaimed the young
+Englishman Rajah of Sarawak.
+
+Brooke was a king at last. His empire was before him, but he was
+only king because the reigning Sultan relinquished a part of his
+dominions that he was unable to control. The tasks to be accomplished
+before he could make his word law were ones that England, Holland,
+and the navies of Europe had shirked. His so-called subjects were
+the most notorious and daring pirates in the history of the world;
+they were head-hunters, they practised slavery, and they were cruel
+and blood-thirsty on land and sea. Out of such elements this boy king
+built his kingdom. How he did it would furnish tales that would outdo
+Verne, Kingston, and Stevenson.
+
+He abolished military marauding and every form of slavery, established
+courts, missions, and school houses, and waged war, single-handed,
+against head-hunting and piracy.
+
+Head-hunting is to the Dyaks what amok is to the Malays or scalping to
+the American Indians. It is even more. No Dyak woman would marry a man
+who could not decorate their home with at least one human head. Often
+bands of Dyaks, numbering from five to seven thousand, would sally
+forth from their fortifications and cruise along the coast four or
+five hundred miles, to surprise a village and carry the inhabitants'
+heads back in triumph.
+
+To-day head-hunting is practically stamped out, as is running amok
+among the Malays, although cases of each occur from time to time.
+
+As his subjects in the jungles were head-hunters, so those of the
+coast were pirates. Every harbor was a pirate haven. They lived
+in big towns, possessed forts and cannon, and acknowledged neither
+the suzerainty of the Sultan or the domination of the Dutch. They
+were stronger than the native rulers, and no European nation would
+go to the great expense of life and treasure needed to break their
+power. Brooke knew that his title would be but a mockery as long as
+the pirates commanded the mouths of all his rivers.
+
+With his little schooner, armed with three small guns and manned by
+a crew of white companions and Dyak sailors, he gave battle first
+to the weaker strongholds, gradually attaching the defeated to his
+standard. He found himself at the end of nine years their master and
+a king in something more than name. Combined with the qualities of
+a fearless fighter, he had the faculty of winning the good will and
+admiration of his foes.
+
+The fierce Suloos and Illanums became his fast friends. He left their
+chiefs in power, but punished every outbreak with a merciless hand.
+
+One of the many incidents of his checkered career shows that his spirit
+was all-powerful among them. He had invited the Chinese from Amoy to
+take up their residence at his capital, Kuching. They were traders
+and merchants, and soon built up a commerce. They became so numerous
+in time that they believed they could seize the government. The plot
+was successful, and during a night attack they overcame the Rajah's
+small guard, and he escaped to the river in his pajamas without a
+single follower.
+
+Sir Charles told me one day, as we conversed on the broad veranda
+of the consulate, that that night was the darkest in all his great
+uncle's stormy life. The hopes and work of years were shattered at
+a single blow, and he was an outcast with a price on his head.
+
+The homeless king knelt in the bottom of the prau and prayed for
+strength, and then took up the oars and pulled silently toward
+the ocean. Near morning he was abreast of one of the largest Suloo
+forts--the home of his bitterest and bravest foes.
+
+He turned the head of his boat to the shore and landed unarmed and
+undressed among the pirates. He surrendered his life, his throne,
+and his honor, into their keeping.
+
+They listened silently, and then their scarred old chief stepped
+forward and placed a naked kris in the white man's hand and kissed
+his feet.
+
+Before the sun went down that day the White Rajah was on his throne
+again, and ten thousand grim, fierce Suloos were hunting the Chinese
+like a pack of bloodhounds.
+
+In 1848 Rajah Brooke decided to visit his old home in England, and
+ask his countrymen for teachers and missions. His fame had preceded
+him. All England was alive to his great deeds. There were greetings by
+enthusiastic crowds wherever he appeared, banquets by boards of trade,
+and gifts of freedom of cities. He was lodged in Balmoral Castle,
+knighted by the Queen, made Consul-General of Borneo, Governor of
+Labuan, Doctor of Laws by Oxford, and was the lion of the hour.
+
+He returned to Sarawak, accompanied by European officers and friends,
+to carry on his great work of civilization, and to make of his little
+tropical kingdom a recognized power.
+
+He died in 1868, and was carried back to England for burial, and I
+predict that at no distant day a grateful people will rise up and
+ask of England his body, that it may be laid to rest in the yellow
+sands under the graceful palms of the unknown nation of which he was
+the Washington.
+
+His nephew, Sir Charles Brooke, who had also been his faithful
+companion for many years, succeeded him.
+
+Sarawak has to-day a coast-line of over four hundred miles, with an
+area of fifty thousand square miles, and a population of three hundred
+thousand souls. The country produces gold, silver, diamonds, antimony,
+quicksilver, coal, gutta-percha, rubber, canes, rattan, camphor,
+beeswax, edible bird's-nests, sago, tapioca, pepper, and tobacco, all
+of which find their way to Singapore, and thence to Europe and America.
+
+The Rajah is absolute head of the state; but he is advised by
+a legislative council composed of two Europeans and five native
+chiefs. He has a navy of a number of small but effective gunboats,
+and a well-trained and officered army of several hundred men, who look
+after the wild tribes of the interior of Borneo and guard the great
+coast-line from piratical excursions; otherwise they would be useless,
+as his rule is almost fatherly, and he is dearly beloved by his people.
+
+It is impossible in one short sketch to relate a tenth of the daring
+deeds and startling adventures of these two white rajahs. Their lives
+have been written in two bulky volumes, and the American boy who loves
+stories that rival his favorite authors of adventure will find them by
+going to the library and asking for the "Life of the Rajah of Sarawak."
+
+There is much in this "Life" that might be read by our statesmen
+and philanthropists with profit; for the building of a kingdom in a
+jungle of savage men and savage beasts places the name of Brooke of
+Borneo among those of the world's great men, as it does among those
+of the heroes of adventure.
+
+One evening we were pacing back and forth on the deck of the Rajah's
+magnificent gunboat, the Ranee. A soft tropical breeze was blowing off
+shore. Thousands of lights from running rickshas and bullock carts
+were dancing along the wide esplanade that separates the city of
+Singapore from the sea. The strange old-world cries from the natives
+came out to us in a babel of sound.
+
+Chinese in sampans and Malays in praus were gliding about our bows and
+back and forth between the great foreign men-of-war that overshadowed
+us. The Orient was on every hand, and I looked wonderingly at the
+slightly built, gray-haired man at my side, with a feeling that he
+had stepped from out some wild South Sea tale.
+
+"Your Highness," I said, as we chatted, "tell me how you made subjects
+out of pirates and head-hunters, when our great nation, with all its
+power and gold, has only been able after one hundred years to make
+paupers out of our Indians."
+
+"Do you see that man?" he replied, pointing to a stalwart, brown-faced
+Dyak, who in the blue and gold uniform of Sarawak was leaning idly
+against the bulwarks. "That is the Dato (Lord) Imaum, Judge of the
+Supreme Court of Sarawak. He was one of the most redoubtable of
+the Suloo pirates. My uncle fought him for eight years. In all that
+time he never broke his word in battle or in truce. When Sir James
+was driven from his throne by the Chinese, the Dato Imaum fought to
+reinstate him as his master.
+
+"Civilization is only skin deep, and so is barbarism. Had your country
+never broken its word and been as just as it is powerful, your red
+men would have been to-day where our brown men are--our equals."
+
+An hour later I stepped into my launch, which was lying alongside. The
+American flag at the peak came down, and the guns of the Ranee belched
+forth the consular salute.
+
+I instinctively raised my hat as we glided over the phosphorescent
+waters of the harbor, for in my thoughts I was still in the presence
+of one of the great ones of the earth.
+
+
+
+
+
+AMOK!
+
+A Malayan Story
+
+
+If you run amok in Malaya, you may perhaps kill your enemy or wound
+your dearest friend, but you may be certain that in the end you will
+be krissed like a pariah dog. Every man, woman, and child will turn
+his or her hand against you, from the mother who bore you to the
+outcast you have befriended. The laws are as immutable as fate.
+
+Just where the great river Maur empties its vast volume of red water
+across a shifting bar into the Straits of Malacca, stands the kampong
+of Bander Maharani.
+
+The Sultan Abubaker named the village in honor of his dead Sultana,
+and here, close down to the bank, was the palace of his nephew--the
+Governor, Prince Sulliman.
+
+A wide, red, well-paved road separated the village of thatch and
+grass from the palace grounds, and ended at a wharf, up to which a
+steam-launch would dash from time to time, startling the half-grown
+crocodiles that slept beneath the rickety timbers.
+
+Sometimes the little Prince Mat, the son of the Governor, came down to
+the wharf and played with the children of the captain of the launch,
+while his Tuan Penager, or Teacher, dozed beneath his yellow umbrella;
+and often, at their play, his Excellency would pause and watch them,
+smiling kindly.
+
+At such times, the captain of the launch would fall upon his face, and
+thank the Prophet that he had lived to see that day. "For," he would
+say, "some day he may speak to me, and ask me for the wish I treasure."
+
+Then he would go back to his work, polishing the brass on the railings
+of his boat, regardless of the watchful eyes that blinked at him from
+the mud beneath the wharf.
+
+He smiled contentedly, for his mind was made up. He would not ask to
+be made master of the Sultan's marvellous yacht, that was sent out
+from Liverpool,--although the possibility made him catch his breath:
+he would ask nothing for himself,--he would ask that his Excellency
+let his son Noa go to Mecca, that he might become a hadji and then
+some day--who knows--Noa might become a kateeb in the attap-thatched
+mosque back of the palace.
+
+And Noa, unmindful of his father's dreaming, played with the little
+Prince, kicking the ragga ball, or sailing miniature praus out into
+the river, and off toward the shimmering straits. But often they
+sat cross-legged and dropped bits of chicken and fruit between the
+palm sleepers of the wharf to the birch-colored crocodiles below,
+who snapped them up, one after another, never taking their small,
+cruel eyes off the brown faces that peered down at them.
+
+Child-life is measured by a few short years in Malaya. The hot,
+moist air and the fierce rays of the equatorial sun fall upon child
+and plant alike, and they grow so fast that you can almost hear them!
+
+The little Prince soon forgot his childhood companions in the gorgeous
+court of his Highness, the Sultan of Johore, and Noa took the place
+of his father on the launch, while the old man silently mourned as he
+leaned back in its stern, and alternately watched the sunlight that
+played along the carefully polished rails, and the deepening shadows
+that bound the black labyrinth of mangrove roots on the opposite
+shore. The Governor had never noted his repeated protestations and
+deep-drawn sighs.
+
+"But who cares," he thought. "It is the will of Allah! The Prince
+will surely remember us when he returns."
+
+On the very edge of Bander Maharani, just where the almost endless
+miles of betel-nut palms shut from view the yellow turrets of the
+palace, stood the palm-thatched bungalow in which Anak grew, in a
+few short years, from childhood to womanhood. The hot, sandy soil all
+about was covered with the flaxen burs of the betel, and the little
+sunlight that found its way down through the green and yellow fronds
+drew rambling checks on the steaming earth, that reminded Anak of
+the plaid on the silken sarong that Noa's father had given her the
+day she was betrothed to his son.
+
+Up the bamboo ladder and into the little door,--so low that even Anak,
+with her scant twelve years, was forced to stoop,--she would dart when
+she espied Noa coming sedately down the long aisle of palms that led
+away to the fungus-covered canal that separated her little world from
+the life of the capital city.
+
+There was coquetry in every glance, as she watched him, from behind
+the carved bars of her low window, drop contentedly down on the bench
+beneath a scarred old cocoanut that stood directly before the door. She
+thought almost angrily that he ought to have searched a little for her:
+she would have repaid him with her arms about his neck.
+
+From the cool darkness of the bungalow came the regular click of her
+mother's loom. She could see the worker's head surrounded by a faint
+halo of broken twilight. Her mind filled in the details that were
+hidden by the green shadows--the drawn, stooping figure, the scant
+black hair, the swollen gums, the syrah-stained teeth, and sunken
+neck. She impulsively ran her soft brown fingers over her own warm,
+plump face, through the luxuriant tresses of her heavy hair, and then
+gazed out at the recumbent figure on the bench, waiting patiently
+for her coming.
+
+"Soon my teeth, which the American lady that was visiting his
+Excellency said were so strong and beautiful, will be filed and
+blackened, and I will be weaving sarongs for Noa."
+
+She shuddered, she knew not why, and went slowly across the elastic
+bamboo strips of the floor and down the ladder.
+
+Noa watched the trim little figure with its single covering of cotton,
+the straight, graceful body, and perfectly poised head and delicate
+neck, the bare feet and ankles, the sweet, comely face with its fresh
+young lips, free from the red stains of the syrah leaf, and its big
+brown eyes that looked from beneath heavy silken lashes. He smiled,
+but did not stir as she came to him. He was proud of her after
+the manner of his kind. Her beauty appealed to him unconsciously,
+although he had never been taught to consider beauty, or even seek
+it. He would have married her without a question, if she had been as
+hideous as his sister, who was scarred with the small-pox. He would
+never have complained if, according to Malayan custom, he had not
+been permitted to have seen her until the marriage day. He must marry
+some one, now that the Prince had gone to Johore, and his father had
+given up all hope of seeing him a hadji; and besides, the captain of
+the launch and the old punghulo, or chief, Anak's father, were fast
+friends. The marriage meant little more to the man.
+
+But to Anak,--once the Prince Mat had told her she was pretty, when
+she had come down to the wharf to beg a small crocodile to bury
+underneath her grandmother's bungalow to keep off white ants, and
+her cheeks glowed yet under her brown skin at the remembrance. Noa
+had never told her she was beautiful!
+
+A featherless hen was scratching in the yellow sand at her feet, and a
+brood of featherless chicks were following each cluck with an intensity
+of interest that left them no time to watch the actions of the lovers.
+
+"Why did you come?" she asked in the soft liquid accents of her people.
+
+There was an eagerness in the question that suggested its own answer.
+
+"To bring a message to the punghulo," he replied, not noticing the
+coquetry of the look.
+
+"Oh! then you are in haste. Why do you wait? My father is at the
+canal."
+
+"It is about you," he went on, his face glowing. "The Prince is coming
+back, and we are to be married. My father, the captain, made bold
+to ask his Excellency to let the Prince be present, and he granted
+our prayer."
+
+She turned away to hide her disappointment. It was the thought of
+the honor that was his in the eyes of the province, and not that
+he was to marry her, that set the lights dancing in his eyes! She
+hated him then for his very love; it was so sure and confident in
+its right to overlook hers in this petty attention from a mere boy,
+who had once condescended to praise her girlish beauty.
+
+"When is the Prince coming?" she questioned, ignoring his clumsy
+attempt to take her hand.
+
+"During the feast of Hari Raya Hadji," he replied, smiling.
+
+She kicked some sand with her bare toes, amongst the garrulous
+chickens.
+
+"Tell me about the Prince."
+
+Her mood had changed. Her eyes were wide open, and her face
+all aglow. She was wondering if he would notice her above the
+bridesmaids,--if it was not for her sake he was coming?
+
+And then her lover told her of the gossip of the palace,--of the
+Prince's life in the Sultan's court,--of his wit and grace,--of how
+he had learned English, and was soon to go to London, where he would
+be entertained by the Queen.
+
+Above their heads the wind played with the tattered flags of the palms,
+leaving openings here and there that exposed the steely-white glare
+of the sky, and showed, far away to the northward, the denuded red
+dome of Mount Ophir.
+
+The girl noted the clusters of berries showing redly against the
+dark green of some pepper-vines that clambered up the black nebong
+posts of her home; she wondered vaguely as he talked if she were to
+go on through life seeing pepper-vines and betel-nut trees, and hot
+sand and featherless hens, and never get beyond the shadow of the
+mysterious mountains.
+
+Possibly it was the sight of the white ladies from Singapore, possibly
+it was the few light words dropped by the half-grown Prince, possibly
+it was something within herself,--something inherited from ancestors
+who had lived when the fleets of Solomon and Hiram sought for gold
+and ivory at the base of the distant mountains,--that drove her to
+revolt, and led her to question the right of this marriage that was
+to seal her forever to the attap bungalow, and the narrow, colorless
+life that awaited her on the banks of the Maur. She turned fiercely
+on her wooer, and her brown eyes flashed.
+
+"You have never asked me whether I love!"
+
+The Malay half rose from his seat. The look of surprise and perplexity
+that had filled his face gave place to one of almost childish wonder.
+
+"Of course you love me. Is it not so written in the Koran,--a wife
+shall reverence her husband?"
+
+"Why?" she questioned angrily.
+
+He paused a moment, trying dimly to comprehend the question, and then
+answered slowly,--
+
+"Because it is written."
+
+She did not draw away when he took her hand; he had chosen his answer
+better than he knew.
+
+"Because it is written," that was all. Her own feeble revolt was but
+as a breath of air among the yellow fronds above their heads.
+
+When Noa had gone, the girl drew herself wearily up the ladder, and
+dropped on a cool palm mat near the never ceasing loom. For almost
+the first time in her short, uneventful life she fell to thinking
+of herself. She wondered if the white ladies in Singapore married
+because all had been arranged by a father who forgot you the moment
+you disappeared within the door of your own house,--if they loved one
+man better than another,--if they could always marry the one they
+liked best. She wondered why every one must be married,--why could
+she not go on and live just as she had,--she could weave and sew?
+
+A gray lizard darted from out its hiding-place in the attap at a
+great atlas moth which worked its brilliant wings; clumsily it tore
+their delicate network until the air was full of a golden dust.
+
+"I am the moth," she said softly, and raised her hand too late to
+save it from its enemy.
+
+The Sultan's own yacht, the Pante, brought the Prince back to Maur,
+and as it was low tide, the Governor's launch went out beyond the
+bar and met him.
+
+The band played the national anthem when he landed on the pier,
+and Inchi Mohammed, the Tuan Hakim, or Chief Justice, made a speech.
+
+The red gravel walk from the landing to the palace gate was strewn
+with hibiscus and alamander and yellow convolvulus flowers, and
+bordered with the delicate maidenhair fern.
+
+Johore and British flags hung in great festoons from the deep
+verandas of the palace, and the brass guns from the fort gave forth
+the royal salute.
+
+Anak was in the crowd with her father, the old chief, and her
+affianced, Noa. She had put on her silk sarong and kabaya, and some
+curious gold brooches that were her mother's. In her coal-black hair
+she had stuck some sprays of the sweet-smelling chumpaka flower. On her
+slender bare feet were sandals cunningly wrought in colored beads. Her
+soft brown eyes glowed with excitement, and she edged away from the
+punghulo's side until she stood close up in front, so near that she
+could almost touch the sarong of the Tuan Hakim as he read.
+
+The Prince had grown so since he left that she scarcely knew him,
+and save for the narrow silk sarong about his waist, he was dressed
+in the English clothes of a Lieutenant of his Highness's artillery. In
+the front of his rimless cap shone the arms of Johore set in diamonds,
+exactly as his father, the Governor, wore them. He paused and smiled
+as he thanked the cringing Tuan Hakim.
+
+The blood rushed to the girl's cheeks, and she nearly fell down at
+his feet. She realized but dimly that Noa was plucking at her kabaya,
+wishing her to go with him to see the bungalow that his father was
+building for them.
+
+"The posts are to be of polished nebong" he was saying, "the wood-work
+of maranti wood from Pahang; and there is to be a cote, ever so
+cunningly woven of green and yellow bamboo, for your ring-doves,
+under the attap of the great eaves above the door."
+
+She turned wearily toward her lover, and the bright look faded from
+her comely face. With a half-uttered sigh she drew off her sandals
+and tucked them carefully beneath the silver zone that held her sarong
+in place.
+
+"Anak," he said softly, as they left the hot, red streets, filled
+with lumbering bullock-carts and omnipresent rickshas, "why do you
+look away when I talk of our marriage? Is it because the Koran teaches
+modesty in woman, or is it because you are over-proud of your husband
+when you see him among other men?"
+
+But the girl was not listening.
+
+He looked at her keenly, and as he saw the red blood mantle her cheek,
+he smiled and went on:--
+
+"It was good of you to wear the sarong I gave you, and your best
+kabaya and the flowers I like in your hair. I heard more than one
+say that it showed you would make a good wife in spite of our knowing
+one another before marriage."
+
+"You think that it was for you that I put on all this bravery?" she
+asked, looking him straight in the face. "Am I not to be your wife? Can
+I not dress in honor of the young Prince and--Allah?"
+
+He turned to stammer a reply. The hot blood mounted to his temples,
+and he grasped the girl's arm so that she cried out with pain.
+
+"You are to be my wife, and I your master. It is my wish that you
+should ever dress in honor of our rulers and our Allah, for in showing
+honor to those above you, you honor your husband. I do not understand
+you at all times, but I intend that you shall understand me. Sudah!"
+
+"Tuan Allah Suka!" (The Lord Allah has willed it), she murmured,
+and they plodded on through the hot sand in silence.
+
+After his return they saw the Prince often, and once when Anak came
+down to the wharf to bring a durian to the captain of the launch
+from her father, the old punghulo, she met him face to face, and he
+touched her cheek with his jewelled fingers, and said she had grown
+much prettier since he left.
+
+Noa was not angry at the Prince, rather he was proud of his notice,
+but a sinister light burned in his eyes as he saw the flushed face
+and drooping head of the girl.
+
+And once the Prince passed by the punghulo's home on his way into
+the jungle in search of a tiger, and inquired for his daughter. Anak
+treasured the remembrance of these little attentions, and pondered
+over them day after day, as she worked by her mother's side at the
+loom, or sat outside in the sand, picking the flossy burs from the
+betel-nuts, watching the flickering shadows that every breeze in the
+leaves above scattered in prodigal wastefulness about and over her.
+
+She told herself over and over, as she followed with dreamy eyes the
+vain endeavors of a chameleon to change his color, as the shadows
+painted the sand beneath him first green and then white, that her own
+hopes and strivings were just as futile; and yet when Noa would sit
+beside her and try to take her hand, she would fly into a passion,
+and run sobbing up the ladder of her home. Noa became moody in
+turn. His father saw it and his mates chaffed him, but no one guessed
+the cause. That it should be for the sake of a woman would have been
+beyond belief; for did not the Koran say, "If thy wife displease thee,
+beat her until she see the sin of her ways"? One day, as he thought,
+it occurred to him, "She does not want to marry me!" and he asked her,
+as though it made any difference. There were tears in her eyes, but
+she only threw back her head and laughed, and replied as she should:--
+
+"That is no concern of ours. Is your father, the captain, displeased
+with my father's, the punghulo's, dowry?"
+
+And yet Noa felt that Anak knew what he would have said.
+
+He went away angry, but with a gnawing at his heart that frightened
+him,--a strange, new sickness, that seemed to drive him from despair
+to a longing for revenge, with the coming and going of each quick
+breath. He had been trying to make love in a blind, stumbling way;
+he did not know it,--why should he? Marriage was but a bargain in
+Malaya. But Anak with her finer instincts felt it, and instead of
+fanning this tiny, unknown spark, she was driving it into other and
+baser channels.
+
+In spite of her better nature she was slowly making a demon out of a
+lover,--a lover to whom but a few months before she would have given
+freely all her love for a smile or the lightest of compliments.
+
+From that day until the day of the marriage she never spoke to her
+lover save in the presence of her elders,--for such was the law of
+her race.
+
+She submitted to the tire-women who were to prepare her for the
+ceremony, uttering no protest as they filed off her beautiful white
+teeth and blackened them with lime, nor when they painted the palms of
+her hands and the nails of her fingers and toes red with henna. She
+showed no interest in the arranging of her glossy black hair with
+jewelled pins and chumpaka flowers, or in the draping of her sarong
+and kabaya. Only her lacerated gums ached until one tear after another
+forced its way from between her blackened lids down her rouged cheeks.
+
+There had been feasting all day outside under the palms, and the
+youths, her many cousins, had kicked the ragga ball, while the elders
+sat about and watched and talked and chewed betel-nut. There were
+great rice curries on brass plates, with forty sambuls> within easy
+reach of all, luscious mangosteens, creamy durians and mangoes, and
+betel-nuts with lemon leaves and lime and spices. Fires burned about
+among the graceful palms at night, and lit up the silken sarongs and
+polished kris handles of the men, and gold-run kabayas of the women.
+
+The Prince came as he promised, just as the old Kadi had pronounced
+the couple man and wife, and laid at Anak's feet a wide gold bracelet
+set with sapphires, and engraven with the arms of Johore. He dropped
+his eyes to conceal the look of pity and abhorrence that her swollen
+gums and disfigured features inspired, and as he passed across the
+mats on the bamboo floor he inwardly cursed the customs of his people
+that destroyed the beauty of its women. He had lived among the English
+of Singapore, and dined at the English Governor's table.
+
+A groan escaped the girl's lips as she dropped back among the cushions
+of her tinsel throne. Noa saw the little tragedy, and for the first
+time understood its full import. He ground his teeth together, and
+his hand worked uneasily along the scabbard of his kris.
+
+In another moment the room was empty, and the bride and groom were left
+side by side on the gaudily bedecked platform, to mix and partake of
+their first betel-nut together. Mechanically Noa picked the broken
+fragments of the nut from its brass cup, from another a syrah leaf
+smeared with lime, added a clove, a cardamom, and a scraping of mace,
+and handed it to his bride. She took it without raising her eyes, and
+placed it against her bleeding gums. In a moment a bright red juice
+oozed from between her lips and ran down the corner of her distorted
+mouth. Noa extended his hand, and she gave him the half-masticated
+mass. He raised it to his own mouth, and then for the first time
+looked the girl full in the face.
+
+There was no love-light in the drooping brown eyes before him. The
+syrah-stained lips were slightly parted, exposing the feverish gums,
+and short, black teeth. Her hands hung listlessly by her side, and
+only for the color that came and went beneath the rouge of her brown
+cheeks, she might have been dead to this last sacred act of their
+marriage vows.
+
+"Anak!" he said slowly, drawing closer to her side. "Anak, I will be
+a true husband to you. You shall be my only wife--"
+
+He paused, expecting some response, but she only gazed stolidly up
+at the smoke-begrimed attap of the roof.
+
+"Anak--" he repeated, and then a shudder passed through him, and his
+eyes lit up with a wild, frenzied gleam,
+
+A moment he paused irresolute, and then with a spring he grasped the
+golden handle of his kris and with one bound was across the floor,
+and on the sand below among the revellers.
+
+For an instant the snake-like blade of the kris shone dully in the
+firelight above his head, and then with a yell that echoed far out
+among the palms, it descended straight into the heart of the nearest
+Malay.
+
+The hot life-blood spurted out over his hand and naked arm, and dyed
+the creamy silk of his wedding baju a dark red.
+
+Once more he struck, as he chanted a promise from the Koran, and the
+shrill, agonized cry of a woman broke upon the ears of the astonished
+guests.
+
+Then the fierce sinister yell of "Amok! amok!" drowned the woman's
+moans, and sent every Malay's hand to the handle of his kris.
+
+"Amok!" sprang from every man's lips, while women and children, and
+those too aged to take part in the wild saturnalia of blood that was
+to follow, scattered like doves before a hawk.
+
+With the rapidity of a Malayan tiger, the crazed man leaped from
+one to another, dealing deadly strokes with his merciless weapon,
+right and left. There was no gleam of pity or recognition in his
+insane glance when he struck down the sister he had played with from
+childhood, neither did he note that his father's hand had dealt the
+blow that dropped his right arm helpless to his side. Only a cry of
+baffled rage and hate escaped his lips, as he snatched his falling
+knife with his left hand. Another blow, and his father fell across
+the quivering body of his sister.
+
+"O Allah, the all-merciful and loving kind!" he sang, as the blows
+rained upon his face and breast. "O Allah, the compassionate."
+
+The golden handle of his kris shone like a dying coal in the centre
+of a circle of flamelike knives; then with one wild plunge forward,
+into the midst of the gleaming points, it went out.
+
+"Sudah!--It is finished," and a Malay raised his steel-bladed limbing
+to thrust it into the bare breast of the dying man.
+
+The young Prince stepped out into the firelight and raised his
+hand. The long, shrill wail of a tiger from far off toward Mount
+Ophir seemed to pulsate and quiver on the weird stillness of the night.
+
+Noa opened his eyes. They were the eyes of a child, and a faint,
+sweet smile flickered across the ghastly features and died away in
+a spasm of pain.
+
+A picture of their childhood days flashed through the mind of the
+Prince and softened the haughty lines of his young face. He saw,
+through it all, the wharf below the palace grounds,--the fat old
+penager dozing in the sun,--the raft they built together, and the
+birch-colored crocodiles that lay among the sinuous mangrove roots.
+
+"Noa," he whispered, as he imperiously motioned the crowd back.
+
+The dying man's lips moved. The Prince bent lower.
+
+"She--loved--you. Yes--" Noa muttered, striving to hold his
+failing breath,--"love is from--Allah. But not for--me;--for
+English--and--Princes."
+
+They threw his body without the circle of the fires.
+
+The tense feline growl of the tiger grew more distinct. The Prince's
+hand sought the jewelled handle of his kris. There was a swift rush
+in the darkness, a crashing among the rubber-vines, a short, quick
+snarl, and then all was still.
+
+If you run amok in Malaya, you may kill your enemy or your dearest
+friend, but you will be krissed in the end like a pariah dog. Every
+man, woman, and child will turn his hand against you, from the mother
+who bore you to the outcast you have befriended.
+
+The laws are as immutable as fate.
+
+
+
+
+
+LEPAS'S REVENGE
+
+The Tale of a Monkey
+
+
+There were many monkeys--I came near saying there were hundreds--in
+the little clump of jungle trees back of the bungalow. We could lie
+in our long chairs, any afternoon, when the sun was on the opposite
+side of the house, and watch them from behind the bamboo "chicks"
+swinging and playing in the maze of rubber-vines.
+
+They played tag and high-spy, and a variety of other games. When
+they were tired of playing, they fell to quarrelling, scolding,
+and chasing each other among the stiff, varnished leaves, making so
+much noise that I could not get my afternoon nap, and often had to
+call to the syce to throw a stone into the branches. Then they would
+scuttle away to the topmost parts of the great trees and there join
+in giving me a rating that ought to have made me ashamed forever to
+look another monkey in the face.
+
+One day, I went out and threw a stick at them myself, and the next
+day I found my shoes, which the Chinese "boy" had pipe-clayed and
+put out in the sun to dry, missing; and the day after I found the
+netting of my mosquito house torn from top to bottom.
+
+So I was not in the best of humors when I was awakened, one afternoon,
+by the whistling of a monkey close to my chair. I reached out quickly
+for my cork helmet which I had thrown down by my side. As it was there,
+I looked up in surprise to see what had become of my visitor.
+
+There he sat up against the railing of the veranda with his legs
+cramped up under him, ready to flee if I made a threatening gesture.
+His face was turned toward me, with the thin, hairless skin of its
+upper lip drawn back, showing a perfect row of milk-white teeth that
+were chattering in deadly terror. The whole expression of his face
+was one of conciliation and entreaty.
+
+I knew that it was all make-believe, so I half closed my eyes and
+did not move. The chattering stopped. The little fellow looked about
+curiously, drew his mouth up into a pucker, whistled once or twice
+to make sure I was not awake, and reached out his bony arm for a few
+crumbs of cake that had fallen near.
+
+He was not more than a foot in height. His diminutive body seemed
+to have been fitted into a badly worn skin that was two sizes too
+large for him, and the scalp of his forehead moved about like an
+overgrown wig.
+
+He was the most ordinary kind of gray, jungle monkey, not even a
+wah-wah or spider face.
+
+"Well," I said, after we had thoroughly inspected each other, "where
+are my shoes?"
+
+Like a flash the whistling ceased, and with a pathetic trembling of
+his thin upper lip he commenced to beg with his mouth, and to put up
+his homely little hands in mute appeal.
+
+For a moment I feared he would go into convulsions, but I soon
+discovered that my sympathy, had been wasted.
+
+Then I noticed, for the first time, that there was a leather strap
+around his body just in front of his back legs, and that a string was
+attached to it, which ran through the railings and off the veranda. I
+looked over, and there, squatting on his sandalled feet, was a Malay,
+with the other end of the string in his hand.
+
+He arose, smiling, touched his forehead with the back of his brown
+palm, and asked blandly:--
+
+"Tuan, want to buy?"
+
+The calm assurance of the man amused me.
+
+"What, that miserable little monkey?" I said. "Do you take me for a
+tourist? Look up in those trees and you will see monkeys that know
+boiled rice from padi."
+
+The man grinned and showed his brilliantly red teeth and gums.
+
+"Tuan see. This monkey very wise," and he made a motion with his
+stick. The little fellow sprang from the railing to his bare head,
+and sat holding on to his long black hair.
+
+"See, Tuan," and he made another motion, and the monkey leaped to
+the ground and commenced to run around his master, hopping first
+on one foot and then on the other, raising his arms over his head
+like a ballet dancer. After every revolution he would stop and turn
+a handspring.
+
+The Malay all the time kept up a droning kind of a song in his native
+tongue, improvising as he went along.
+
+The tenor of it was that one Hamat, a poor Malay, but a good
+Mohammedan, who had never been to Mecca, wanted to go to become a
+Hadji. He had no money but he had a good monkey that was very dear
+to him. He had found it in a distant jungle, beyond Johore, when a
+little baby; had brought it up like one of his own children and had
+taught it to dance and salaam.
+
+Now he must sell the monkey to the great Tuan, or Lord, that the
+money might help take him to Mecca. The monkey must dance well and
+please the mighty Tuan.
+
+As the little fellow danced, he kept one eye on me as though he
+understood it all.
+
+"How old is he?" I asked, becoming interested.
+
+"Just as old as your Excellency would like," he replied, bowing.
+
+"Is he a year old?"
+
+"If the Tuan please."
+
+"Well, how much do you want for him?"
+
+"What your Excellency can give."
+
+"Twenty-five dollars?" I asked.
+
+His face lit up from chin to forehead. He hitched nervously at the
+folds of his sarong, and changed the quid of red betel-nut from one
+corner of his mouth to the other.
+
+"Here, Hamat," I said, laughing, "here is five dollars; take it;
+when you come back from Mecca with a green turban come and see me. If
+I am sick of the monkey, you can have him back."
+
+So commenced our acquaintance with Lepas. We got into the habit
+of calling him Lepas, because it was the Malay for "let go," which
+definition we broadened until it became a term of correction for every
+form of mischief. He was such a restless, active little imp, with
+hands into everything and upon everything, that it was "Lepas!" from
+morning to night.
+
+He soon learned the word's twofold meaning. If we said "Lepas" sternly,
+he subsided at once; but when we called it pleasantly he came running
+across the room and leaped into our laps.
+
+It did not take Lepas as long to forget his former master as it did
+to forget his former habits. In truth, his civilization was never
+more than skin deep.
+
+He would sit for hours cuddled up in the mistress's lap, playing
+with her work and making deft slaps at passing flies, until he
+had thoroughly convinced her of his perfect trustworthiness. Then,
+the moment her back was turned, he would slip away to her bureau,
+and such a mess as he would make of her ribbons and laces!
+
+I think he liked the servants better than he did us. He would dance
+and turn handsprings and salaam for them, but never for the mistress
+or myself. Such tricks, he seemed to think, were beneath his new
+position in society.
+
+He had a standing grudge against me, however, for insisting on his
+bath in the big Shanghai jar every day, and took delight in rolling
+in the red dust of the road the moment he was through.
+
+It was not long before he had a feud with the monkeys in the trees,
+back of the house. He would stand on the ground, within easy reach
+of the house, and as saucily as you please, till they were worked up
+into a white heat of rage over his remarks.
+
+Once he caught a baby monkey that had become entangled in the wiry
+lallang grass under the trees, and dragged it screeching into the
+house. Before we could get to him he had nearly drowned it by treating
+it to a bath,--an act, I suppose, intended to convey to me his opinion
+of my humane efforts to keep him clean.
+
+I expected as a matter of course to lose another pair of shoes
+or something, in payment for this unneighborly behavior, but the
+colony in the trees seemed to know that I was innocent. It was not
+long before they caught the true culprit, and gave him such a beating
+that he was quiet and subdued for days.
+
+But Lepas was a lovable little fellow with all his mischief. Every
+afternoon when I came home from the office, tired out with the heat
+and the fierce glare of the sun, he would hop over to my chair,
+whistle soothingly, and make funny little chirrups with his lips,
+until I noticed him.
+
+Then he would crawl quietly up the legs of the chair until he reached
+my shoulder, where he would commence with his cool little fingers to
+inspect my eyes and nose, and to pick over carefully each hair of my
+mustache and head.
+
+So we forgave him when he pulled all the feathers out of a ring-dove
+that was a valued present from an old native rajah; when he turned
+lamp-oil into the ice cream, and when he broke a rare Satsuma bowl
+in trying to catch a lizard. He was always so penitent after each
+misadventure!
+
+We had heard that Hamat had sailed for Jedda with a shipload of
+pilgrims and were therefore expecting him back soon; but we had
+decided not to give up Lepas. He had become a sort of necessity about
+the house.
+
+Next door to us, lived a high official of the English service. He was
+a sour, cross old man and did not like pets. Even the monkeys in the
+trees knew better than to go into his "compound," or inclosure.
+
+But Lepas started off on a voyage of discovery one day, and not only
+invaded his compound, but actually entered his house. The official
+caught him in the act of hiding his shaving-set between the palm
+thatch of the roof and the cheese-cloth ceiling. Recognizing Lepas,
+he did not kill him, but took him by his leathern girdle and soused
+him in his bath-tub, until he was so near dead that it took him hours
+to crawl home.
+
+Lepas went around with a sad, injured expression on his wrinkled
+little face, for days. Not even a mangosteen sprinkled with sugar
+could awaken his enthusiasm.
+
+He went so far as to make up with the monkeys in the trees, and once
+or twice I caught him condescending to have a game of leap-frog with
+them. I made up my mind that he had determined to turn over a new leaf,
+but the syce shook his head knowingly and said:--
+
+"Lepas all the time thinking. He thinks bad things."
+
+And so it proved.
+
+One night the mistress gave a very big dinner party. The high official
+from next door was there. So were several other high officials of
+Singapore, the general commanding her Majesty's troops, and the
+foreign consuls and members of Legislative Council.
+
+It was a hot night, and the punkah-wallah outside kept the punkah, or
+mechanical fan, switching back and forth over our heads with a rapidity
+that made us fear its ropes would break, as very often happened.
+
+Suddenly there was a crash, and a champagne glass struck squarely in
+the high official's soup and spattered it all over his white expanse
+of shirt front. We all looked up at the punkah. At the same instant
+a big, soft mango smashed in the high official's face and changed
+its ruddy red color to a sickly yellow.
+
+The women screamed, and the men jumped up from the table. Then began
+a regular fusillade of wine glasses and tropical fruits.
+
+Sometimes they hit the high official from next door, at whom they all
+seemed to be aimed, but more often they fell upon the table, among
+the glass and dishes. In a moment everything was in wild confusion,
+and the mistress's beautifully decorated table looked as though a
+bomb had exploded on it.
+
+The Chinese "boys" made a rush for the end of the room, and there,
+up on the sideboard, among the glass, pelting his enemy, the high
+official, as fast as he could throw, was Lepas.
+
+A finger bowl struck the butler full in the face, and gave the monkey
+time to make his escape out into the darkness through the wide-open
+doors.
+
+We saw nothing more of Lepas for a week or more; we had, indeed, about
+given him up, wondering as to his whereabouts, when one afternoon, as I
+was taking my usual post-tiffin siesta on the cool side of the great,
+wide-spreading veranda, I heard a timid whistle, and looked up to see
+Lepas seated on the railing, as sad and humble as any truant schoolboy.
+
+His hair was matted and faded and his face was dirty. His form had
+lost some of the plumpness that had come to it with good living,
+but there was the same wicked twinkle in his eyes, and the same
+hypocritical deceit in his bearing as of old.
+
+I reached out my hand to take him, but he hopped a few feet away and
+began to beg with his teeth.
+
+"Lepas," I said, "you have a bad heart. I wash my hands of you. When
+Hamat comes back you can go to him and be an ordinary, low caste
+monkey. Now go! I never want to see you again!"
+
+Lepas puckered up his lips and whistled mournfully for a few moments,
+but seeing no sign of forgiveness in my face he jumped down and began
+to turn handsprings and dance with the most demure grace.
+
+I took no notice of him, and after a few vain efforts to attract
+my attention, he hopped dejectedly off the veranda across the lawn,
+and disappeared among the timboso trees and rubber-vines.
+
+Two weeks later Hamat returned from Mecca. He paid me a visit in
+state--white robe and green turban. I shook hands and called him by
+his new title of nobility, Tuan Hadji, but he did not refer to Lepas.
+
+Before many minutes he commenced to look wistfully about. I pointed
+to the trees back of the house. He went out under them and called
+two or three times.
+
+There was a great chattering among the rubber-vines, and in a moment
+down came Lepas and sprang to his old master's shoulder as happy as
+a lover.
+
+I never saw Lepas but once again, and that was one evening on the ocean
+esplanade. He was in the centre of an admiring circle of half-nude
+Malay and Hindu boys, going through his quaint antics, while Hamat
+squatted before him beating on a crocodile-hide drum and singing a
+plaintive, monotonous song.
+
+When it was finished, Lepas took an empty cocoanut shell and went
+out into the crowd to collect pennies.
+
+I threw in a dollar. Lepas salaamed low as he snatched it out and bit
+it to test its genuineness. It was his latest accomplishment. Then
+he hid himself among the laughing crowd.
+
+That Lepas knew me, I could tell by the droop in his eye and the
+quick glance he gave to the right and left, to see if there was room
+to escape in case I made an effort to avenge my wrongs.
+
+I had no desire, however, to renew the acquaintance, and was quite
+willing to let by-gones be by-gones.
+
+
+
+
+
+KING SOLOMON'S MINES
+
+Being an Account of an Ascent of Mount Ophir in Malaya, by His
+Excellency, the Tuan Hakim of Maur, and the Writer
+
+
+                        "And they came to Ophir, and fetched
+                        from thence gold, four hundred and
+                        twenty talents, and brought it to
+                        King Solomon."--1 Kings IX. 28.
+
+                        "For the King's ships went to Tarshish
+                        with the servants of Huram; every
+                        three years once came the ships of
+                        Tarshish, bringing gold and silver,
+                        ivory, and apes, and peacocks."
+                                       --2 Chronicles VIII. 21.
+
+
+The rose tints of a tropical sunrise had broken through the heavy
+bamboo chicks that jealously guarded the rapidly fleeting half-lights
+of my room: there came three deferential taps at the door, and the
+smiling, olive-tinted face of Ah Minga appeared at the opening. "Tabek,
+Tuan," he saluted, as he raised the mosquito curtains, and placed a
+tray of tea and mangosteens on a table by my side.
+
+I sprang to the floor and across the heavily rugged room, and pulled
+up the offending chick.
+
+Across the palace grounds, fresh from their morning bath, across the
+broad river Maur, for the nonce black in the shadow of the jungle,
+across the gilded tops of the jungle, forty miles away as the crow
+flies, rested the serrated peak of Mount Ophir.
+
+Directly below me, a soldier in a uniform of duck and a rimless cap
+with a gold band was pacing up and down the gravelled walk. A little
+farther on a bevy of women and children were bathing in the tepid
+waters of the river, while a man in an unpainted prau was keeping
+watch for a possible crocodile.
+
+The sun was rising directly behind the peak, a ball of liquid fire. I
+drew in a long draught of the warm morning air.
+
+A Malay in a soft silken sarong, which fell about his legs like a
+woman's skirt, stood in the door.
+
+"The Prince is awaiting the Tuan Consul," he said, with a graceful
+salaam.
+
+I hurriedly donned my suit of white, drank my tea, and followed him
+along the grand salon, down a broad flight of steps, through a marble
+court, and into the dining room.
+
+A great white punkah was lazily vibrating over the heavy rosewood
+table.
+
+Unko Sulliman, the Prince Governor of Maur, came forward and gave me
+his hand.
+
+"It will be a hard climb and a hard day's work?" he said, pleasantly,
+in good English.
+
+"I have done worse," I answered.
+
+"But not under a Malayan sky. However, it is your wish, and his
+Highness the Sultan has granted it. The Chief Justice will accompany
+you, and now you had better start before the sun is high."
+
+I turned to the Tuan Hakim, or Chief Justice, with a gesture of
+unconcealed pleasure. We had shot crocodiles the day previous along
+the banks of the Maur, and I had found him a good shot and an agreeable
+companion. While not as handsome a man or as striking a representative
+of his race as the Unko, or Prince, he was a scholar, and could aid me
+more than any one else in my exploration of the ancient gold workings
+about the base of the famous mountain.
+
+The launch was awaiting us at the pier in front of the Residency,
+and we took our places in the bow, and arranged our guns as our
+half-naked crew worked her slowly into mid-stream. We hoped to get
+some snap shots at the crocodiles that lined the banks as we steamed
+swiftly up the river.
+
+"I am inclined to agree with Josephus, that yonder mountain is the
+Mount Ophir of Solomon, when I look at this river. It is equal to
+our Hudson, and could easily carry ships twice the size of any he or
+Huram ever floated."
+
+The Tuan Hakim nodded, and kept his eyes fastened on the nearest shore.
+
+The course of the great river seemed to stretch out before us in an
+endless line of majestic circles. From shore to shore, at high tide,
+it was a mile in breadth, and so deep that his Highness's yacht, the
+Pante, of three hundred tons' burden, could run up full fifty miles.
+
+For a moment we caught a view of the wooden minarets of the little
+mosque at Bander Maharani; then we dashed on into the heart of another
+great curve.
+
+"What is it your Koran says that the wise king's ships brought from
+Ophir?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the mangrove-bound shore.
+
+"Gold and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks," I replied, quoting
+literally from Chronicles.
+
+"Biak (good)! Gold and silver we have plenty. Your English companies
+are taking it out of the land by the pikul In the old days, before the
+Portuguese came, the handle of every warrior's kris was of ivory. Now
+our elephants are dying before the rifle of the sportsman. Soon our
+jungles will know them no more. Apes--" and he pointed at the top of
+a giant marbow, where a troop of silver wah-wahs were swinging from
+limb to limb. "The glorious argus pheasant you have seen."
+
+"Boyah, Tuan!" the man at the wheel sung out.
+
+I grasped my Winchester Express. Just ahead, half hidden by a black
+labyrinth of scaffold-like mangrove roots, lay the huge, mud-covered
+form of a crocodile.
+
+The Tuan Hakim raised his hand, and the launch slowed down and ran
+in under the bank.
+
+"Now!" he whispered, and our rifles exploded in unison.
+
+A great splash of slimy red mud fell full on the front of my spotless
+white jacket, another struck in the water close by the side of the
+boat. The wounded crocodile had sprung into the air from his tail up,
+and dropped back into his wallow with a resounding thud. In another
+instant he was off the slippery bank and within the security of the
+mud-colored water.
+
+I saw that my companion had more to tell me, possibly a native
+tradition of the fabled riches that were concealed within the heart
+of the historic mountain that was for the moment framed in a setting
+of green, directly ahead. I put a fresh cartridge into the barrel,
+and leaned back in my deck chair.
+
+The Chief Justice extracted a manila from his case and handed it to me.
+
+"In the days when Tunku Ali III. ruled over Maur, from Malacca to
+the confines of Johore, the Portuguese came, and Albuquerque with
+his ships of war and soldiers in iron armor sought to wrest from our
+people their cities and their riches. My ancestor was a dato,--our
+laksamana, high admiral, of his Highness's fleet. His galley was built
+of burnished teak, the lining of its cabin was of sandalwood,--algum
+wood your Koran calls it,--and the turret in its stern was covered
+with plates of solid gold. You will find record of it to this day in
+the state papers of Acheen.
+
+"For fully a hundred and forty years did the Emperor of Johore
+and his valiant allies, the King of Acheen and the Sultan of Maur,
+seek to retake Malacca from the Portuguese. The Dato Mamat was the
+last laksamana of the fleet. With him died the war and the secret of
+Mount Ophir."
+
+"The secret!" I questioned, as the Tuan Hakim paused.
+
+"For one hundred and forty years were we at war with the
+invaders. Three generations were born and died with arms in their
+hands. No work was done on the land, save by women and children. Still
+we had plenty of gold with which to fit out fleet after fleet, with
+which to arm our soldiers and feed our people.
+
+"It came from yonder mountain. Not even the Sultan knew its
+hiding-place. That was only trusted to one family, and handed from
+father to son by word of mouth.
+
+"Long before the days of Solomon the Wise did my family hold that
+secret for the state. It was one of them that gave the four hundred
+and twenty talents to the laksamana of Huram's fleet. Your Koran has
+made record of the gift. He did not know from whence it came. He asked,
+and we told him from the Ophirs, which means from the gold mines. Then
+it was that he called the mountain that raised its head four thousand
+feet above the sea, and was the first object his lookout saw as they
+neared the coast, 'Mount Ophir.'
+
+"No man, however so bold, ventured within a radius of fifteen miles
+around the foot of the mountain. It was haunted by evil spirits. No
+man save the laksamana, who went twice a year and brought away to his
+prau, which was moored on the bank of the Maur thirty miles from the
+mountains, ten great loads of pure gold, each time over one hundred
+bugels. I know not as to the truth, but it is told that there was
+one tribe consecrated to the mining of the gold, not one of whom had
+ever been outside the shadow of the mountain: that when the great
+admiral ceased to come, they blocked up the entrance to the mines,
+planted trees about the spot, and waited. One after another died,
+until not one was left.
+
+"Such is the tradition of my family, Tuan."
+
+"But the great laksamana?" I asked. "I know of the ancient riches of
+Malacca. Barbosa tells us that gold was so common that it was reckoned
+by the bhar of four hundred weight."
+
+My companion contemplated the end of his manila. "Do you know how
+died his Highness, Montezuma of Mexico, Tuan?"
+
+I bowed.
+
+"So died my ancestor one hundred years later. I will tell you of it,
+that you may write his name in your histories by the side of the name
+of the murdered Sultan of Mexico."
+
+The eyes of the little man flashed, and he looked squarely into mine
+for the first time. Possibly he may have detected a smile on my face,
+at the thought of placing this leader of a band of pirates side by
+side in history with the once ruler of the richest empire in the New
+World, for he paused in the midst of his narrative and said rapidly:--
+
+"Must I tell you what your own writers tell of the rulers of our
+country, to make you credit my tale? It is all here," he said,
+pointing to his head. "Everything that relates to my home I know. King
+Emmanuel of Portugal wrote to his High Kadi at Rome, that his general,
+the cruel Albuquerque, had sailed to the Aurea Chersonese, called
+by the natives Malacca, and found an enormous city of twenty-five
+thousand houses, that abounded in spices, gold, pearls, and precious
+stones. Was Montezuma's capital greater?" he triumphantly asked.
+
+"It was as great then as Singapore is today. Albuquerque captured it,
+and built a fortress at the mouth of the river, making the walls
+fifteen feet thick, all from the ruins of our mosques. This was
+in 1513."
+
+"Forgive me," I said hastily, "if I have seemed to cast doubt on the
+relative importance of your country."
+
+There was a Malay kampong, or village, to our right. Under the
+heavy green and yellow fronds of a cocoanut grove were a half-dozen
+picturesque palm-thatched houses. They were built up on posts six
+feet from the ground, and a dozen men and children scampered down
+their rickety ladders, as a shrill blast from our whistle aroused
+them from their slumbers. Pressed against the wooden bars of their
+low, narrow windows, we could make out the comely, brown faces
+of the women. The punghulo, or chief, walked sedately out to the
+beach, and touched his forehead to the ground as he recognized his
+superior. The sunlight broke through the enwrapping cocoanuts, and
+brought out dazzling white splotches on the sandy floor before the
+houses. We passed a little space of wiry lallang grass, which was
+waving in the faint breeze, and radiating long, irregular lines of
+heat, that under our glasses resembled the marking of watered silk,
+and were once more abreast the green walls of the impenetrable jungle.
+
+"The Dato Mamat captured a Portuguese ship within a man's voice from
+the harbor of Malacca. On it was the foreign Governor's daughter. She
+was dark, almost as dark as my people. Her eyes were black as night,
+with long, drooping lashes, and her hair fell about her shapely neck,
+a mass of waving curls. She was tall and stately, and her bearing was
+haughty. The mighty Laksamana, who had fought a hundred battles, and
+had a hundred wives picked from the princesses of the kingdom,--for
+there were none so noble but felt honored in his smiles,--loved this
+dark-skinned foreigner. It was pitiful!
+
+"His great fleet, which was to have swept the very name of the
+Portuguese from the face of the earth, lay idle before the harbor. Its
+captains were burning with ambition, but the Admiral would not give
+the command, and they dare not disobey.
+
+"Day after day went by while the great man hung like a pariah dog
+on the words of his haughty captive. She scorned his words of love,
+laughed at his prayers, and sneered at his devotion. Day after day the
+sun beat down on the burnished decks of the war praus. Night after
+night the evening gun in the besieged fort sent forth its mocking
+challenge: still the Dato made no motion. Oh, but it was pitiful! One
+by one the praus slipped away,--first those from Acheen, and then
+those from Johore,--but the valiant Laksamana saw them not. He was
+blind to all save one. Then she spoke: 'If thou lovest me as thou
+boastest, and would win my smiles, send me to my father; then go
+and bring me of this gold of Ophir,--for the Dato had laid his heart
+bare before her,--enough to sink yon boat. The daughter of a Braganza
+does not unite herself with a pauper. When the moon is full again,
+I will expect you.'
+
+"So did the Laksamana, to the everlasting shame of Islam. When the
+moon was full he returned in his shining prau before the walls of
+Malacca, He brought from Ophir, of gold more than enough; of the
+pearls of Ceylon he brought a chupah full to the brim. He robbed
+his great palace, that he might lay at the feet of the Portuguese a
+fortune such as Solomon only ever saw. And yet the captains of his
+fleet cared not for the gold, so long as the mighty Dato saved his
+honor. When he left for the quay, on which stood the Governor, his
+daughter, and the priests of their religion, they said not a word,
+for he passed by with averted face; but each man grasped the jewelled
+handle of his kris, and swore to Allah under his breath that should
+but one hair of the mighty Admiral's head be lacking when he returned,
+they would cut the false heart from the woman and feed it to the dogs.
+
+"So spoke the captains; but ere the breath had passed their lips their
+chief was a prisoner, and the guns from the fort hurled defiance at
+the betrayed.
+
+"It was pitiful! Allah was avenged.
+
+"Fiercely raged the battle, and when there was a breach in the walls,
+and the captain besar had ordered the attack, the Portuguese held
+the mighty Laksamana over the walls, and reviled the allied fleets
+with words of derision.
+
+"Not one moved, and all was still. Suddenly the Admiral raised his
+head, and gazed out and down at his followers. Then he spoke, and the
+sound of his voice reached far out to the most distant prau that lay
+becalmed within the shadow of casuarina-shaded Puli.
+
+"'Allah il Allah, I have sinned, and I must die. No more shall my
+name be known in the land. I am no longer laksamana; neither am I a
+dato. Allah is just. Tuan Allah Suka!'
+
+"A foreigner smote him in the mouth, and a great cry arose from
+without the walls.
+
+"The war went on; but day after day did the Governor send a message
+to the Laksamana in the dungeon. 'Reveal the spot where thy gold is
+hidden, and thy life and liberty are granted.'
+
+"Day by day the Dato replied, 'My life is a pollution in the nostrils
+of Allah. Take it.'
+
+"So they laid the great chief on the stones of his cell, bound hand
+and foot, and one by one did they break the joints of his toes,
+his fingers, and then the joints of his legs and arms. When they had
+finished, and he still lived, the woman came to him and mocked him,
+but the Admiral closed his eyes and prayed. 'O Allah, the all-merciful
+and the loving kind, forgive me for my erring heart. Thou knowest that
+it goes out to this woman still.  Let not my country suffer for my
+deeds. I gave unto thy servant Solomon of the gold that has made us
+great. If thou canst, thou wilt whisper the secret of our nation to
+one of thy chosen people, that they may have means whereby to fight
+thy battles.'
+
+"And then the woman raised her hand, and with one stroke of the axe an
+attendant severed from his body the head of the once mighty Laksamana
+of the fleets of Johore, Acheen and Maur.
+
+"So died the secret of Ophir. So fell Malacca forever into the hands
+of the foreigner."
+
+The Tuan Hakim's voice trembled as he closed. During the tragic recital
+he had dropped into the soft, melodious chant of his nation. At times
+he would lapse into Malay, and the boatmen would push forward and
+listen with unconcealed excitement. Then, as he returned to English,
+they would drop back into their places, but never take their eyes off
+the face of the speaker. Only our China "boys" took no interest in
+the past of Maur. It was tiffin time, and they were anxious to set
+before us our lunch of rice curry, gula Malacca, whiskey and soda.
+
+The sun was directly above us, and the fierce, steely glare of the
+Malayan sky and water dazzled our eyes. Mount Ophir looked as far
+ahead as ever. The winding course of the river seemed at times to
+take us directly away from it.
+
+Just as we had finished our meal, and had lighted our manilas, the
+steersman turned the little launch sharply about, and headed directly
+for the shore. In a moment we had shot under and through the deep
+fringe of mangrove trees, and had emerged into the jungle. On all
+sides the trees rose, columnar and straight, and the ground was firm,
+although densely covered with ferns and vines.
+
+The launch stopped, and the chief turned to me. "Now for the climb. We
+have thirty miles to the base of the mountain. We will push on ten
+miles, and spend the night at a Malay village. The next day we will
+try and reach the base of the mountain."
+
+I looked about me. We might have been surrounded by prison walls,
+for all hope there seemed to be of our getting an inch into the jungle.
+
+Our servants gathered up our rather extensive impedimenta, and sprang
+into the water. We were forced to follow suit, and begin our day's
+march with wet feet. A few steps up the stream we came upon an old
+elephant track and plunged boldly in,--and it was in! For three
+miles we labored through a series of the most elaborate mud-holes
+that I have ever seen. The elephants in breaking a path through the
+jungle are extremely timid in their boldness. The second one always
+steps in the footprints of the first. Year after year it is the same,
+until in course of time the path is marked by a series of pitfalls,
+often two feet in depth; and as it rains nearly every day they become
+a seething, slimy paste of mud.
+
+Our heavy cloth shoes and stockings did not protect us from the
+attacks of innumerable leeches; for when we at last reached an open
+bit of forest and sat down to rest, we found dozens of them attached
+to our legs and even on our bodies. They were small, and beautifully
+marked with stripes of bright yellow.
+
+It was twilight when we neared the welcome kampong. We had sent a
+runner ahead to notify the punghulo of our arrival, and as we finished
+our struggle with the last thorny rattan, and tripped over the last
+rubber-vine, we could hear the shouting of men and the barking of
+dogs. Evidently we were expected.
+
+The kampong might have been any other in the kingdom, and the little
+old weazened punghulo, who came bowing and smiling forward, might
+have been at the head of any one of a hundred other kampongs,--they
+were all so much alike. A half-dozen attap bungalows, built under a
+cocoanut grove, all facing toward a central plaza; a score of dogs for
+each bungalow; a flock of featherless fowls scratching and wallowing
+beneath them, and a bevy of half-naked children playing with a rattan
+ball within the light of a central fire,--made up the details of a
+little picture of Malayan home life that had become very familiar to
+me within the last three years.
+
+Our servants at once set about preparing supper before the fire,
+while we for politeness' sake compounded a mouthful of betel-nut and
+syrah leaf from the punghulo's state box.
+
+The next morning we set out for our twenty miles' tramp, along a narrow
+jungle path, accompanied by some ten natives of the village whom my
+companion had retained to cut a path for us up the mountain. It was a
+long, tiresome journey, and we were heartily glad when it was ended,
+and we were encamped on the rocky banks of a fern-hid stream.
+
+Twice during our day's march had we crossed deep, ragged depressions in
+the earth, which were overgrown with a jungle that seemed to be coequal
+in age with the surrounding trees. We did not pause to examine them,
+although our natives pointed them out with the expressive word mas
+(gold). We promised to do that at a later date. On the border of the
+creek I found some gold-bearing rock, and while the Tuan Hakim was
+engaged in securing some superb specimens of the great atlas moth,
+I sat down and crushed some fragments of it, and obtained enough gold
+to satisfy me that the rock would run four ounces to the ton.
+
+It was a beautiful night. We lay under our mosquito netting, and gazed
+up through the interlacing branches of the trees at the star-strewn
+sky, and smoked our manilas in weary content. The long, full "coo-ee"
+of the stealthy argus pheasant sounded at intervals in distant parts
+of the forest. It might have been the call of the orang-utan, or the
+wild hillmen of the country, for they have imitated the call of this
+most glorious of birds.
+
+The shrill, never ceasing whir of the cicada hardly attracted our
+attention; while the whistle and crash of a monkey that was inspecting
+us from his perch among the trees above caused me to peer upward,
+in hopes of catching a glimpse of his grayish outlines.
+
+I had not had an opportunity of asking my companion for the details
+of his tragic story. I turned to him, and found him watching me
+attentively. "Were you listening to the call of the coo-ee?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," I answered.
+
+"It is the queen of birds. I will get you one. I have never shot
+one. They only come out at night, and then only to disappear, but we
+can trap them. It will die in captivity. That is why Solomon could
+not keep them, and sent for new ones every three years."
+
+"What became of the woman?" I asked.
+
+"The body of the Laksamana was thrown over the walls by the
+Portuguese," he said moodily. "It was embalmed and laid away. Two
+months from that day the woman was walking outside the walls. The war
+was over. There was no more gold. Three of my people sprang upon her
+and the Portuguese she was to marry." He paused for a moment and looked
+up at the stars, then went on in a cold, matter-of-fact tone. "They
+were lashed to the headless body of the man they had murdered, and
+thrown into the royal tiger-cage, by order of his Highness, Ali,
+Sultan of Maur."
+
+I raised my curtain and threw the stub of my cigar out into the
+darkness, a smothered exclamation of horror escaping my lips.
+
+"It was the will of Allah. Good night."
+
+It was nearly nine o'clock the next morning before we started. Our
+Malays had gone on at daybreak, to cut a path up the base of the
+mountain to where the open forest began.
+
+We ascended steadily up a moderate slope for several miles, keeping
+the ravine on our left. It was comparatively easy work after we had
+left the jungle behind. After crossing a level plateau we once more
+found ourselves in a forest so dense that our men had to use their
+parangs again. The heat of the jungle was intense, and we suffered
+severely from the stings of a fly that is not unlike a cicada in shape.
+
+From the jungle we emerged into an immense stone field,--padang-batu,
+the Malays called it. It extended along the mountain side as far
+as we could see, in places quite bare, at others deeply fissured
+and covered with a most luxuriant vegetation. We tramped at times
+waist deep through ferns, some green, some dark red, and some lined
+with yellow, clumps of the splendid Dipteris Horsfieldi and Matonia
+pectinala, with their slender stems and wide-spreading palmate fronds
+towering two feet above our heads. The delicate maidenhair lay like a
+rich carpet beneath our feet, while hundreds of magnificent climbing
+pitcher-plants doused us with water as we knocked against them. Our
+sympiesometer showed us that we were twenty-eight hundred feet above
+the sea.
+
+Beyond the padang-batu we entered a forest of almost Alpine character,
+dwarfed and stunted. For several hours we worked along ridges,
+descended into valleys, and ascended almost precipitous ledges, until
+we finally reached a peak that was separated from the true mountain
+by a deep, forbidding canon.
+
+Several of the older men of the party gave out, and we were forced
+to leave them with half our baggage and what water was left: there
+was a spring, they told us, near the summit.
+
+The scramble down the one side of the canon, and up the other, was a
+hard hour's work. Its rocky, almost perpendicular sides were covered
+with a bushy vegetation on top of a foundation of mosses and dead
+leaves, so that it afforded us more hindrance than help.
+
+Just below the summit we came to where a projecting rock gave us
+shelter, and a natural basin contained flowing water. Dropping my load,
+and hardly waiting to catch my breath, I was on my way up the fifty
+feet that lay between us and the top. In another moment I had mounted
+the small, rocky, rhododendron-covered platform, and stood, the first
+of my party, on the summit of Mount Ophir. The little American flag
+that I had brought with me I waved frantically above my head, much
+to the amusement of my attendants.
+
+Four thousand feet below, to the east, stretched the silver sheen of
+the Indian Ocean. The smoke of a passing steamer lay like a dark stain
+on the blue and white of the sky. Close into the shore was the little
+capital town of Bander Maharani, connecting itself with us by a long,
+snake-like ribbon of shimmering light,--the great river Maur.
+
+To the north and west successive ranges of hill and valley, divided
+by the glistening river, and all covered by an interminable jungle
+of vivid green, fell away until lost in the cloudless horizon.
+
+For a moment I stood and gazed out over the vast expanse that lay
+before me, my mind filled with the wild, unwritten poetry of its
+jungles and its people; then I turned to my companion.
+
+"It is beautiful!"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"But not equal to the view from our own Mount Washington."
+
+"Then why take so much trouble to secure it? Mount Pulei is as high,
+and there is a good road to its top."
+
+I laughed. "Mount Pulei or Mount Washington is not Ophir."
+
+"True!" he answered, opening his eyes in surprise at the seeming
+absurdity of my statement. "He that told you they were speaketh a lie."
+
+We spent the night on the summit, and watched the sun drop into the
+midst of the sea, away to the west. It was cool and delightful after
+the moist, heat-laden atmosphere of the lowlands, and a strong breeze
+freed us from the swarm of tiger mosquitoes that we had learned to
+expect as the darkness came on.
+
+Where the Ophir of the Bible really is, will ever be a question of
+doubt. To my mind it embraces the entire East--the Malay Peninsula,
+Ceylon, India, and even China,--Ophir being merely a comprehensive
+term, possibly taken from this Mount Ophir of Johore, which
+signified the most central point of the region to which Solomon's
+ships sailed. For all ages the gold of the Malay Peninsula has been
+known; from the earliest times there has been intercourse between the
+Arabians and the Malays, while the Malayan was the very first of the
+far Eastern countries to adopt the Mohammedan religion and customs.
+
+All the articles mentioned in the Biblical account of Mount Ophir
+are found in and about Malacca in abundance, while on the coast of
+Africa two of them, peacocks and silver, are missing.
+
+If the Hebrew word thukyim is translated peacocks, and not parrots,
+then Solomon's ships must have turned east after passing the Straits
+of Bab-el-Mandeb, and not south along the coast of Africa toward
+Sofala. For peacocks are only found in India and Malaya.
+
+It is a singular fact that in the language of the Orang Bennu, or
+aborigines of the Malay Peninsula, that word "peacocks," which in the
+modern Malay is marrak, is in the aboriginal chim marak, which is the
+exact termination of the Hebrew tuchim. Their word for bird is tchem,
+another surprising similarity.
+
+The morning sun brought us to our feet long before it was light in
+the vast spaces beneath our eyes. The jungle held its reddening rays
+for a moment; they flamed along the course of a half-hidden river;
+we stood out clear and distinct in their glorious effulgence, and
+then the broken, denuded crags and ragged ravines of the padang-batu
+absorbed them in its black fastnesses.
+
+The gold of Mount Ophir was all about us. The air, the stones, the
+very trees, seemed to have been transformed into the glorious metal
+that the little fleets of Solomon and Huram sailed so far to seek. The
+Aurea Chersonese was a breathing, pulsating reality.
+
+
+
+
+
+BUSUK
+
+The Story of a Malayan Girlhood
+
+
+They called her Busuk, or "the youngest" at her birth. Her father,
+the old punghulo, or chief, of the little kampong, or village, of
+Passir Panjang, whispered the soft Allah Akbar, the prayer to Allah,
+in her small brown ear.
+
+The subjects of the punghulo brought presents of sarongs run with gold
+thread, and not larger than a handkerchief, for Busuk to wear about
+her waist. They also brought gifts of rice in baskets of cunningly
+woven cocoanut fibre; of bananas, a hundred on a bunch; of durians,
+that filled the bungalow with so strong an odor that Busuk drew up
+her wrinkled, tiny face into a quaint frown; and of cocoanuts in
+their great green, oval shucks.
+
+Busuk's old aunt, who lived far away up the river Maur, near the foot
+of Mount Ophir, sent a yellow gold pin for the hair; her husband,
+the Hadji Mat, had washed the gold from the bed of the stream that
+rushed by their bungalow.
+
+Busuk's brother, who was a sergeant in his Highness's the Sultan's
+artillery at Johore, brought a tiny pair of sandals all worked in
+many-colored beads. Never had such presents been seen at the birth
+of any other of Punghulo Sahak's children.
+
+Two days later the Imam Paduka Tuan sent Busuk's father a letter
+sewn up in a yellow bag. It contained a blessing for Busuk. Busuk
+kept the letter all her life, for it was a great thing for the high
+priest to do.
+
+
+
+On the seventh day Busuk's head was shaven and she was named Fatima;
+but they called her Busuk in the kampong, and some even called her
+Inchi Busuk, the princess.
+
+From the low-barred window of Busuk's home she could look out on the
+shimmering, sunlit waters of the Straits of Malacca. The loom on which
+Busuk's mother wove the sarongs for the punghulo and for her sons
+stood by the side of the window, and Busuk, from the sling in which
+she sat on her mother's side, could see the fishing praus glide by,
+and also the big lumber tonkangs, and at rare intervals one of his
+Highness's launches.
+
+Sometimes she blinked her eyes as a vagrant shaft of sunlight straggled
+down through the great green and yellow fronds of the cocoanut palms
+that stood about the bungalow; sometimes she kept her little black
+eyes fixed gravely on the flying shuttle which her mother threw deftly
+back and forth through the many-colored threads; but best of all did
+she love to watch the little gray lizards that ran about on the palm
+sides of the house after the flies and moths.
+
+She was soon able to answer the lizards' call of "gecho, gecho," and
+once she laughed outright when one, in fright of her baby-fingers,
+dropped its tail and went wiggling away like a boat without a
+rudder. But most of the time she swung and crowed in her wicker cradle
+under the low rafters.
+
+When Busuk grew older, she was carried every day down the ladder of the
+house and put on the warm white sand with the other children. They were
+all naked, save for a little chintz bib that was tied to their necks;
+so it made no difference how many mudpies they made on the beach nor
+how wet they got in the tepid waters of the ocean. They had only to
+look out carefully for the crocodiles that glided noiselessly among
+the mangrove roots.
+
+One day one of Busuk's playmates was caught in the cruel jaws of
+a crocodile, and lost its hand. The men from the village went out
+into the labyrinth of roots that stood up above the flood like a
+huge scaffolding, and caught the man-eater with ropes of the gamooty
+palm. They dragged it up the beach and put out its eyes with red-hot
+spikes of the hard billion wood.
+
+Although the varnished leaves of the cocoanuts kept almost every ray
+of sunlight out of the little village, and though the children could
+play in the airy spaces under their own houses, their heads and faces
+were painted with a paste of flour and water to keep their tender
+skins from chafing in the hot, moist air.
+
+
+
+At evening, when the fierce sun went down behind the great banian
+tree that nearly hid Mount Pulei, the kateeb would sound the call to
+prayer on a hollow log that hung up before the little palm-thatched
+mosque. Then Busuk and her playmates would fall on their faces,
+while the holy man sang in a soft, monotonous voice the promises
+of the Koran, the men of the kampong answering. "Allah il Allah,"
+he would sing, and "Mohammed is his prophet," they would answer.
+
+Every night Busuk would lie down on a mat on the floor of the house
+with a little wooden pillow under her neck, and when she dared she
+would peep down through the open spaces in the bamboo floor into
+the darkness beneath. Once she heard a low growl, and a great dark
+form stood right below her. She could see its tail lashing its sides
+with short, whip-like movements. Then all the dogs in the kampong
+began to bark, and the men rushed down their ladders screaming,
+"Harimau! Harimau!" (A tiger! A tiger!) The next morning she found
+that her pet dog, Fatima, named after herself, had been killed by one
+stroke of the great beast's paw. Once a monster python swung from a
+cocoanut tree through the window of her home, and wound itself round
+and round the post of her mother's loom. It took a dozen men to tie
+a rope to the serpent's tail, and pull it out.
+
+
+
+Busuk went everywhere astride the punghulo's broad shoulders as he
+collected the taxes and settled the disputes in the little village. She
+went out into the straits in the big prau that floated the star and
+crescent of Johore over its stern, to look at the fishing-stakes,
+and was nearly wrecked by a great water-spout that burst within a
+few feet of them.
+
+Then she went twice to Johore, and gazed in open-eyed wonder at
+the palaces of the Sultan and at the fort in which her uncle was
+an officer.
+
+"Some day," she thought, "I may see his Highness, and he may notice me
+and smile." For had not his Highness spoken twice to her father and
+called him a good man? So whenever she went to Johore she put on her
+best sarong and kabaya> and in her jetty black hair she put the pin
+her aunt had given her, with a spray of sweet-smelling chumpaka flower.
+
+When she was four years old she went to the penager to learn to read
+and write. In a few months she could outstrip any one in the class
+in tracing Arabic characters on the sand-sprinkled floor, and she
+knew whole chapters in the Koran.
+
+So the days were passed in the little kampong under the gently swaying
+cocoanuts, and the little Malayan girl grew up like her companions,
+free and wild, with little thought beyond the morrow. That some day
+she was to be married, she knew; for since her first birthday she had
+been engaged to Mamat, the son of her father's friend, the punghulo
+of Bander Bahru.
+
+She had never seen Mamat, nor he her; for it was not proper that a
+Malay should see his intended before marriage. She had heard that
+he was strong and lithe of limb, and could beat all his fellows at
+the game called ragga. When the wicker ball was in the air he never
+let it touch the ground; for he was as quick with his head and feet,
+shoulders, hips, and breast, as with his hands. He could swim and box,
+and had once gone with his father to the seaports on New Year's Day
+at Singapore, and his own prau had won the short-distance race.
+
+Mamat was three years older than Busuk, and they were to be married
+when she was fifteen.
+
+At first she cried a little, for she was sad at the thought of giving
+up her playmates. But then the older women told her that she could
+chew betel when she was married, and her mother showed her a little
+set of betel-nut boxes, for which she had sent to Singapore. Each cup
+was of silver, and the box was cunningly inlaid with storks and cherry
+blossoms. It had cost her mother a month's hard labor on the loom.
+
+Then Mamat was not to take her back to his father's bungalow. He
+had built a little one of his own, raised up on palm posts six feet
+from the ground, so that she need not fear tigers or snakes or white
+ants. Its sides were of plaited palm leaves, every other one colored
+differently, and its roof was of the choicest attap, each leaf bent
+carefully over a rod of rattan, and stitched so evenly that not a
+drop of rain could get through.
+
+Inside there was a room especially for her, with its sides hung
+with sarongs, and by the window was a loom made of kamooning wood,
+finer than her mother's. Outside, under the eaves, was a house of
+bent rattan for her ring-doves, and a shelf where her silver-haired
+monkey could sun himself.
+
+So Busuk forgot her grief, and she watched with ill-concealed eagerness
+the coming of Mamat's friends with presents of tobacco and rice and
+bone-tipped krises. Then for the first time she was permitted to open
+the camphor-wood chest and gaze upon all the beautiful things that
+she was to wear for the one great day.
+
+Her mother and elder sisters had been married in them, and their
+children would, one after another, be married in them after her.
+
+There was a sarong of silk, run with threads of gold and silver, that
+was large enough to go around her body twice and wide enough to hang
+from her waist to her ankles; a belt of silver, with a gold plate
+in front, to hold the sarong in place; a kabaya, or outer garment,
+that looked like a dressing-gown, and was fastened down the front with
+golden brooches of curious Malayan workmanship; a pair of red-tipped
+sandals; and a black lace scarf to wear about her black hair. There
+were earrings and a necklace of colored glass, and armlets, bangles,
+and gold pins. They all dazzled Busuk, and she could hardly wait to
+try them on.
+
+
+
+A buffalo was sacrificed on the day of the ceremony. The animal was
+"without blemish or disease." The men were careful not to break its
+fore or hind leg or its spine, after death, for such was the law. Its
+legs were bound and its head was fastened, and water was poured upon
+it while the kadi prayed. Then he divided its windpipe. When it was
+cooked, one half of it was given to the priests and the other half
+to the people.
+
+All the guests, and there were many, brought offerings of cooked rice
+in the fresh green leaves of the plantain, and baskets of delicious
+mangosteens, and pink mangoes and great jack-fruits. A curry was made
+from the rice that had forty sambuls to mix with it. There were the
+pods of the moringa tree, chilies and capsicums, prawns and decayed
+fish, chutneys and onions, ducks' eggs and fish roes, peppers and
+cucumbers and grated cocoanuts.
+
+It was a wonderful curry, made by one of the Sultan's own cooks;
+for the Punghulo Sahak spared no expense in the marriage of this,
+his last daughter, and a great feast is exceedingly honorable in the
+eyes of the guests.
+
+Busuk's long black hair had to be done up in a marvellous chignon on
+the top of her head. First, her maids washed it beautifully clean
+with the juice of the lime and the lather of the soap-nut; then it
+was combed and brushed until every hair glistened like ebony; next it
+was twisted up and stuck full of the quaint golden and tortoise-shell
+bodkins, with here and there a spray of jasmine and chumpaka.
+
+Busuk's milky-white teeth had to be filed off more than a fourth. She
+put her head down on the lap of the woman and closed her eyes tight
+to keep back the hot tears that would fall, but after the pain was
+over and her teeth were blackened, she looked in the mirror at her
+swollen gums and thought that she was very beautiful. Now she could
+chew the betel-nut from the box her mother had given her!
+
+The palms of her hands and the nails of her fingers and toes were
+painted red with henna, and the lids of her eyes touched up with
+antimony. When all was finished, they led her out into the great room,
+which was decorated with mats of colored palm, masses of sweet-smelling
+flowers and maidenhair fern. There they placed her in the chair of
+state to receive her relatives and friends.
+
+
+
+She trembled a little for fear Mamat would not think her beautiful,
+but when, last of all, he came up and smiled and claimed the bit of
+betel-nut that she was chewing for the first time, and placed it in
+his mouth, she smiled back and was very happy.
+
+Then the kadi pronounced them man and wife in the presence of all,
+for is it not written, "Written deeds may be forged, destroyed, or
+altered; but the memory of what is transacted in the presence of a
+thousand witnesses must remain sacred? Allah il Allah!" And all the
+people answered, "Suka! Suka!" (We wish it! We wish it!)
+
+Then Mamat took his seat on the dais beside the bride, and the punghulo
+passed about the betel-box. First, Busuk took out a syrah leaf smeared
+with lime and placed in it some broken fragments of the betel-nut,
+and chewed it until a bright red liquid oozed from the corners of
+her mouth. The others did the same.
+
+Then the women brought garlands of flowers--red allamandas, yellow
+convolvulus, and pink hibiscus--and hung them about Busuk and Mamat,
+while the musicians outside beat their crocodile-hide drums in
+frantic haste.
+
+The great feast began out in the sandy plaza before the houses. There
+was cock-fighting and kicking the ragga ball, wrestling and boxing,
+and some gambling among the elders.
+
+Toward night Busuk was put in a rattan chair and carried by the
+young men, while Mamat and the girls walked by her side, a mile away,
+where her husband's big cadjang-covered prau lay moored. It was to
+take them to his bungalow at Bander Bahru. The band went, too, and
+the boys shot off guns and fire-crackers all the way, until Busuk's
+head swam, and she was so happy that the tears came into her eyes
+and trickled down through the rouge on her cheeks.
+
+So ended Busuk's childhood. She was not quite fifteen when she became
+mistress of her own little palm-thatched home. But it was not play
+housekeeping with her; for she must weave the sarongs for Mamat and
+herself for clothes and for spreads at night, and the weaving of
+each cost her twenty days' hard labor. If she could weave an extra
+one from time to time, Mamat would take it up to Singapore and trade
+it at the bazaar for a pin for the hair or a sunshade with a white
+fringe about it.
+
+Then there were the shell-fish and prawns on the sea-shore to be
+found, greens to be sought out in the jungle, and the padi, or rice,
+to be weeded. She must keep a plentiful supply of betel-nut and lemon
+leaves for Mamat and herself, and one day there was a little boy to
+look after and make tiny sarongs for.
+
+
+
+So, long before the time that our American girls are out of school, and
+about the time they are putting on long dresses, Busuk was a woman. Her
+shoulders were bent, her face wrinkled, her teeth decayed and falling
+out from the use of the syrah leaf. She had settled the engagement
+of her oldest boy to a little girl of two years in a neighboring
+kampong, and was dusting out the things in the camphor-wood chest,
+preparatory to the great occasion.
+
+I used to wonder, as I wandered through one of these secluded little
+Malay villages that line the shores of the peninsula and are scattered
+over its interior, if the little girl mothers who were carrying water
+and weaving mats did not sometimes long to get down on the warm, white
+sands and have a regular romp among themselves,--playing "Cat-a-corner"
+or "I spy"; for none of them were over seventeen or eighteen!
+
+Still their lives are not unhappy. Their husbands are kind and sober,
+and they are never destitute. They have their families about them,
+and hear laughter and merriment from one sunny year to another.
+
+Busuk's father-in-law is dead now, and the last time I visited Bander
+Bahru to shoot wild pig, Mamat was punghulo, collecting the taxes
+and administering the laws.
+
+He raised the back of his open palm to his forehead with a quiet
+dignity when I left, after the day's sport, and said, "Tabek! Tuan
+Consul. Do not forget Mamat's humble bungalow." And Busuk came down the
+ladder with little Mamat astride her bare shoulders, with a pleasant
+"Tabek! Tuan! (Good-by, my lord.) May Allah's smile be ever with you."
+
+
+
+
+
+A CROCODILE HUNT
+
+At the foot of Mount Ophir
+
+
+The little pleasant-faced Malay captain of his Highness's three-hundred
+ton yacht Pante called softly, close to my ear, "Tuan--Tuan Consul,
+Gunong Ladang!" I sprang to my feet, rubbed my eyes, and gazed in
+the direction indicated by the brown hand.
+
+I saw not five miles off the low jungle-bound coast of the peninsula,
+and above it a great bank of vaporous clouds, pierced by the molten
+rays of the early morning sun. As I looked around inquiringly, the
+captain, bowing, said: "Tuan," and I raised my eyes. Again I saw the
+lofty mountain peak surmounting the cushion of clouds, standing out
+bold and clear against the almost fierce azure of the Malayan sky.
+
+"Mount Ophir!" burst from my lips. The captain smiled and went
+forward to listen to the linesman's "two fathoms, sir, two and one
+half fathoms, sir, two fathoms, sir"; for we were crossing the shallow
+bar that protects the mouth of the great river Maur from the ocean.
+
+The tide was running out like a mill-race. The Pante was backing from
+side to side, and then pushing carefully ahead, trying to get into
+the deep water beyond, before low tide.
+
+Suddenly there was a soft, grating sound and the captain came to me
+and touched his hat.
+
+"We are on the bar, sir. Will you send a despatch by the steam-cutter
+to Prince Suliman, asking for the launch? We cannot get off until
+the night tide."
+
+The Pante had so swung around that we could plainly see the big
+red istana, or palace, of Prince Suliman close to the sandy shore,
+surrounded by a grove of graceful palms. With the aid of our glasses
+the white and red blur farther up the river resolved itself into the
+streets and quays of the little city of Bander Maharani, the capital
+of the province of Maur in dominions of his Highness Abubaker, Sultan
+of Johore. Above and overshadowing all both in beauty and historical
+interest was the famous old mountain where King Solomon sent his
+diminutive ships for "gold, silver, peacocks, and apes."
+
+By the time the ladies were astir, the mists had vanished and Gunong
+Ladang, or as it is styled in Holy Writ Mount Ophir, presented to
+our admiring gaze its massive outlines, set in a frame of green and
+blue. The dense jungle crept halfway up its sides and at the point
+where the cloud stratum had rested but an hour before, it merged into
+a tangled network of vines and shrubs which in their turn gave place
+to the black, red rock that shone like burnished brass.
+
+If our minds wandered away from visions of future crocodile-shooting
+to dreams of the past wealth that had been taken from the ancient
+mines that honeycombed the base of the mountain, it is hardly to
+be wondered at. If Dato or "Lord" Garlands told us queer stories of
+woods and masonry that antedated the written history of the country,
+stories of mines and workings that were overgrown with a jungle that
+looked as primeval as the mountain itself, he was to be excused on
+the plea that we, waiting on a sandy bar with the metallic glare of
+the sea in our eyes, were glad of any subject to distract our thoughts.
+
+The Resident's launch brought out Prince Mat and the Chief Justice,
+both of whom spoke English with an easy familiarity. Both had been in
+Europe and Prince Mat had dined with Queen Victoria. One night at table
+he related the incidents of that dinner with a delightful exactness
+that might have pleased her Britannic Majesty could she have listened.
+
+I waited only long enough to see the ladies installed in a suite of
+rooms in the Residency, then donned a suit of white duck, stepped
+into a river launch in company with Inchi Mohamed, the Chief Justice,
+and steamed out into the broad waters of the Maur.
+
+The southernmost kingdom of the great continent of Asia is the little
+Sultanate of Johore, ruled over by one of the most enlightened Princes
+of the East. Fourteen miles from Singapore, just across the notorious
+old Straits of Malacca, is his capital and the palace of the Sultan.
+
+We had been guests of the State for the past two weeks. Its ruler,
+among other kind attentions to us, had suggested a visit to his out
+province Maur and a crocodile hunt along the banks of the broad river
+that wound about the foot of Mount Ophir.
+
+Fifteen hours' steam in his beautiful yacht along the picturesque
+shores of Johore brought us to the realization of a long-cherished
+dream,--the seeing for ourselves the mountain whose exact location
+had been a subject of conjecture for so many centuries. Were I a
+scholar and explorer and not a sportsman, I might again and more
+explicitly set forth facts which I consider indubitable proof that
+the Mount Ophir of Asia and not the Mount Ophir of Africa is, as I
+have already claimed, the Mount Ophir of the Bible. But here, I wish
+only to narrate the record of a few pleasant days spent at its foot.
+
+The Maur River, at its mouth, is a mile across; it is so deep that one
+can run close up to its muddy banks and peer in under the labyrinth of
+mangrove roots that stand like a rustic scaffold beneath its trunks,
+protecting them from the highest flood-tides.
+
+It was some time before I could pick out a crocodile as he lay
+sleeping in his muddy bath, showing nothing above the slime except
+the serrated line of his great back, which was so incrusted that,
+but for its regularity, it might pass for the limb of a tree or some
+fantastically shaped root.
+
+"There you are!" said the Chief Justice, pointing at the bank almost
+before we had reached the opposite side. I strained my eyes and raised
+the hammer of my "50 x 110" Winchester; for I was to have a shot at
+my first live crocodile.
+
+We drew nearer and nearer the shore and yet I failed to see anything
+that resembled an animal of any sort. The little launch slowed down
+and the crew all pointed toward the bank. I cannot now imagine what
+I expected then to see, but something must have been in my mind's
+eye that blinded my bodily sight; for there, right before me, was a
+little fellow not over three feet long.
+
+He had just come up from the river, and his hide was clean and
+almost a dark birch color. His head was raised and he was regarding
+us suspiciously from his small green eyes.
+
+I put down my rifle in disgust, and took up my revolver. I had no
+idea of wasting a hundred and ten grains of powder on a baby. I took
+careful aim and fired. The revolver was a self-cocker, and yet before
+I could fire again, he had whirled about and was out of reach. He was
+gone and I drew a long breath. The Malays said I struck him. If I did,
+I had no means of proving it.
+
+The only way to bag crocodiles is to kill them outright or nearly
+so. If they have strength enough to crawl into the river and die,
+they will come to the surface again two days later; but the chances
+are that they will get under a root, or that in some way you will
+lose them. Out of forty or fifty big and small ones that we hit only
+five floated down past the Residency.
+
+I also soon found out that my hundred and ten grain cartridges were
+none too large for even the smaller crocodiles. As for those eighteen
+and twenty feet long, it was necessary that the Chief Justice and I
+should fire at the same time and at the same spot in order to arrest
+the big saurians in their wild scramble for the water.
+
+We had tried some half-dozen good shots at small fellows, varying from
+two to five feet in length, when I began to lose interest in the sport;
+so I turned to watch a colony of little gray, jungle monkeys, that
+were swinging and chattering and scolding among the mangrove trees.
+
+One of them picked a long dart-shaped fruit off the tree and essayed
+to drop it on the head of his mate below. I was about to call my
+companion's attention to it, when I heard a crash among the roots
+near where the missile had fallen, and a crocodile, so large that I
+distrusted my senses, turned his great log-like head to one side and
+gazed up at the frightened monkeys. I raised my hand, and the launch
+paused not over twenty yards from where he lay patiently waiting for
+one of the monkeys to drop within reach of his great jaws.
+
+The sun had dried the mud on his back until the entire surface reminded
+me of the beach of a muddy mill-pond that I used to frequent as a boy.
+
+"Boyah besar!" (A royal crocodile) repeated our Malays under their
+breaths.
+
+The Chief Justice and I fired at the same time, and the massive fellow
+who, but a moment before, had looked to be as stiff and clumsy as
+a bar of pig iron, now seemed to be made of india-rubber and steel
+springs. I should not have been more surprised had the great timboso
+tree, beside which he lay, arisen and danced a jig. He seemed to
+spring from the middle up into the air without the aid of either
+his head or his tail. Then he brought his tail around in a circle
+and struck the skeleton roots of the mangrove with such force as to
+dislodge a small monkey in its top, which fell whistling with fright
+into the lower limbs, while the crocodile's great jaws, which seemed
+to measure a third of his length, opened and shut viciously, snapping
+off limbs and roots like straws.
+
+"He sick!" shouted the Chief Justice. "Fire quick."
+
+I threw the cartridge from the magazine into the barrel, and raised
+the gun to my shoulder just as the huge saurian struck the water. My
+bullet caught him underneath, near the back legs. My companion's must
+have had more effect, for the crocodile stopped as though stunned. I
+had time to drop my gun and snatch up my revolver.
+
+It was an easy shot. The bullet sped true to its mark and entered one
+of the small fiery eyes. The huge frame seemed to quiver as though
+a charge of electricity had gone through it and then stiffened
+out,--dead.
+
+Our Malay boys got a rope of tough gamooty fibres around the great
+head, and we towed our prize out into the stream just as the Resident's
+launch, bearing the Prince and the ladies, steamed up the river to
+watch the sport.
+
+A crowd of servants got the crocodile up on the bank near the palace
+grounds and drew it two hundred yards to their quarters. Now comes
+the strangest part of the story.
+
+My servants had half completed the task of skinning him, for I wished
+to send his hide to the Smithsonian, when the muezzin sounded the call
+to prayers from the little mosque near by. In an instant the devout
+Mohammedans were on their faces and the crocodile in his half-skinned
+state was left until a more convenient time. At six o'clock the next
+morning I was awakened by a knock at my door:--
+
+"Tuan, Tuan Consul, come see boyah (crocodile)."
+
+I got up, wrapped a sarong about me, put my feet into a pair of grass
+slippers, and followed my guide out of the palace, through the courts
+to where the crocodile had been the night before, but no crocodile
+was to be seen. My guide grinned and pointed to a heavy trail that
+looked like the track of a stone-boat drawn by a yoke of oxen.
+
+We followed it for a hundred yards in the direction of the river,
+and came upon the crocodile, covered with blood and mud. His own
+hide hung about him like a dress, and his one eye opened and shut at
+the throng of wondering natives about. It was not until he had been
+put out of his misery and his hide taken entirely off that we felt
+confident of his bona fide demise.
+
+One day I had a real adventure while out shooting, which, like many
+real adventures, was made up principally of the things I thought and
+suffered rather than of the things I did. Hence I hardly know how
+to write it out so that it will look like an "adventure" and not a
+mere mishap.
+
+My companion had told me of a trail some thirty miles up the river that
+led into the jungle about three miles, to some old gold workings that
+date back beyond the written records of the State. So one day we drew
+our little launch close up under the bank of the river, and I sprang
+ashore, bent on seeing for myself the prehistoric remains. Contrary
+to the advice of the Chief Justice, I only took a heavy hunting-knife
+with me, and it was more for slashing away thorns and rattans than
+for protection.
+
+It was the heat of the day, and the dense jungle was like a
+furnace. Before I had gone a mile I began to regret my enthusiasm. I
+found the path, but it was so overgrown with creepers, parasites,
+and rubber-vines that I had almost to cut a new one. Had it not been
+for the company of a small English terrier, Lekas,--the Malay for
+"make haste,"--I believe I should have turned back.
+
+However, I found the old workings, and spent several hours making
+calculations as to their depth and course, taking notes as to the
+country formation, and assaying some bits of refuse quartz. Rather
+than struggle back by the path, I determined to follow the course of
+a stream that went through the mines and on toward the coast. So I
+whistled for Lekas and started on.
+
+For the first half-hour everything went smoothly. Then the stream
+widened out and its clay bottom gave place to one of mud, which made
+the walking much more difficult. At last I struck the mangrove belt,
+which always warns you that you are approaching the coast.
+
+As long as I kept in the centre of the channel, I was out of the way
+of the network of roots; but now the channel was getting deeper and my
+progress becoming more labored. It was impossible to reach the bank,
+for the mangroves on either side had grown so thick and dense as to
+be impenetrable.
+
+When I had perhaps achieved half the distance, the thought suddenly
+crossed my mind--how very awkward it would be to meet a crocodile in
+such a place! One couldn't run, that was certain, and as for fighting,
+that would be a lost cause from the first.
+
+Right in the midst of these unpleasant cogitations I heard a quiet
+splash in the water, not far behind, that sent my heart into my
+mouth. In a moment I had scrambled on to a mangrove root and had
+turned to look for the cause of my fears.
+
+For perhaps a minute I saw nothing, and was trying to convince myself
+that my previous thoughts had made me fanciful, when, not many yards
+off, I saw distinctly the form of a huge crocodile swimming rapidly
+toward me. I needed no second look, but dashed away over the roots.
+
+Before I had gone half a dozen yards I was down sprawling in the
+mud. I got entangled, and my terror made me totally unable to act
+with any judgment. Despair nerved me and I turned at bay with my long
+hunting-knife in my hand. How I longed for even my revolver!
+
+Whatever the issue, it could not be long delayed. The uncouth,
+hideous form, which as yet I had only seen dimly, was plain now. I
+took my stand on one of the largest roots, steadied myself by clasping
+another with my left hand, and waited.
+
+My chances, if it did not seem a mockery to call them such, were small
+indeed. I might, by singular good luck, deprive my adversary of sight;
+but hemmed in as I was by a tangled mass of roots, I felt that even
+then I should be but little better off.
+
+All manner of thoughts came unbidden to my mind. I could see Inchi
+Mohamed propped up on cushions in the launch reading "A Little Book of
+Profitable Tales" that had just been sent me by its author. I started
+to smile at the tale of The Clycopeedy. Then I caught sight of the
+peak of Mount Ophir through a notch in the jungle and all sorts of
+absurd hypotheses in regard to its authenticity flashed through my
+mind. All this takes time to relate, but those who have stood in
+mortal peril will know how short a time it takes to think.
+
+From the moment I left the water, but a few seconds had elapsed and the
+saurian was not two yards from me. The abject horror and hopelessness
+of that moment was something I can never forget. Suddenly Lekas came
+floundering through the mud; a second more, and he perceived my enemy
+when almost within reach of his jaws.
+
+Barking furiously, Lekas began to back away. One breathless moment,
+and the reptile turned to follow this new prey. I sank down among
+the roots regardless of the slime and watched the crocodile crawl
+deliberately away, with the gallant little dog retreating before him,
+keeping up a succession of angry barks.
+
+When I arrived at the mouth of the creek, weak, faint, and covered
+from head to foot with mud, I found the Chief Justice awaiting me. The
+barking of the dog had attracted his attention and he had steamed up
+to see what was the matter.
+
+I had not strength left to stroke the head of the brave little fellow
+who had thus twice done me a most welcome service. I had, indeed, but
+just strength enough to spring in, throw myself down on the cushions,
+and let my "boys" pull off my clothes and bring me a suit of clean
+pajamas and cool grass slippers.
+
+
+
+
+
+A NEW YEAR'S DAY IN MALAYA
+
+And some of its Picturesque Customs
+
+
+My Malay syce came close up to the veranda and touched his brown
+forehead with the back of his open hand.
+
+"Tuan" (Lord), he said, "have got oil for harness, two one-half
+cents; black oil for cudah's (horse) feet, three cents; oil, one cent
+one-half for bits; oil, seven cents for cretah (carriage). Fourteen
+cents, Tuan."
+
+I put my hands into the pockets of my white duck jacket and drew out
+a roll of big Borneo coppers.
+
+The syce counted out the desired amount, and handed back what was left
+through the bamboo chicks, or curtains, that reduced the blinding
+glare of the sky to a soft, translucent gray. I closed my eyes and
+stretched back in my long chair, wondering vaguely at the occasion
+that called for such an outlay in oils, when I heard once more the
+quiet, insistent "Tuan!" I opened my eyes.
+
+"No got red, white, blue ribbon for whip."
+
+"Sudah chukup!" (Stop talking) I commanded angrily. The syce shrugged
+his bare shoulders and gave a hitch to his cotton sarong.
+
+"Tuan, to-morrow New Year Day. Tuan, mem (lady) drive to
+Esplanade. Governor, general, all white tuans and mems there. Tuan
+Consul's carriage not nice. Shall syce buy ribbons?"
+
+"Yes," I answered, tossing him the rest of the coppers, "and get a
+new one for your arm."
+
+I had forgotten for the moment that it was the 31st of December. The
+syce touched his hand to his forehead and salaamed.
+
+Through the spaces of the protecting chicks I caught glimpses of
+my Malay kebun, or gardener, squatting on his bare feet, with his
+bare knees drawn up under his armpits, hacking with a heavy knife at
+the short grass. The mottled crotons, the yellow allamanda and pink
+hibiscus bushes, the clump of Eucharist lilies, the great trailing
+masses of orchids that hung among the red flowers of the stately
+flamboyant tree by the green hedge, joined to make me forget the
+midwinter date on the calendar. The time seemed in my half-dream July
+in New York or August in Washington.
+
+Ah Minga, the "boy" in flowing pantalets and stiffly starched blouse,
+came silently along the wide veranda, with a cup of tea and a plate
+of opened mangosteens. I roused myself, and the dreams of sleighbells
+and ice on window-panes, that had been fleeting through my mind at
+the first mention of New Year's Day by the syce, vanished.
+
+Ah Minga, too, mentioned, as he placed the cool, pellucid globes
+before me, "To-mollow New Year Dlay, Tuan!"
+
+On Christmas Day, Ah Minga had presented the mistress with the gilded
+counterfeit presentment of a Joss. The servants, one and all, from Zim,
+the cookee, to the wretched Kling dhobie (wash-man), had brought some
+little remembrance of their Christian master's great holiday.
+
+In respecting our customs, they had taken occasion to establish one of
+their own. They had adopted New Year's as the day when their masters
+should return their presents and good will in solid cash.
+
+At midnight we were awakened by a regular Fourth of July
+pandemonium. Whistles from the factories, salvos from Fort Canning,
+bells from the churches, Chinese tom-toms, Malay horns, rent the
+air from that hour until dawn with all the discords of the Orient
+and a few from Europe. By daylight the thousands of natives from all
+quarters of the peninsula and neighboring islands had gathered along
+the broad Ocean Esplanade of Singapore in front of the Cricket Club
+House, to take part in or watch the native sports by land and sea.
+
+The inevitable Chinaman was there, the Kling, the Madrasman, the Sikh,
+the Arab, the Jew, the Chitty, or Indian money-lender,--they were all
+there, many times multiplied, unconsciously furnishing a background
+of extraordinary variety and picturesqueness.
+
+At ten o'clock the favored representatives of the Anglo-Saxon race
+took their place on the great veranda of the Cricket Club, and gave
+the signal that we would condescend to be amused for ten hours. Then
+the show commenced. There were not over two hundred white people to
+represent law and civilization amid the teeming native population.
+
+In the centre of the beautiful esplanade or playground rose the heroic
+statue of Sir Stamford Raffles, the English governor who made Singapore
+possible. To my right, on the veranda, stood a modest, gray-haired
+little man who cleared the seas of piracy and insured Singapore's
+commercial ascendency, Sir Charles Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak. A little
+farther on, surrounded by a brilliant suite of Malay princes, was
+the Sultan of Johore, whose father sold the island of Singapore to
+the British.
+
+The first of the sports was a series of foot-races between Malay and
+Kling boys, almost invariably won by the Malays, who are the North
+American Indians of Malaysia--the old-time kings of the soil. They are
+never, like the Chinese, mere beasts of burden, or great merchants,
+nor do they descend to petty trade, like the Indians or Bengalese. If
+they must work they become horsemen.
+
+Next came a jockey race, in which a dozen long-limbed Malays took
+each a five-year-old child astride his shoulders, and raced for
+seventy-five yards. There were sack-races and greased-pole climbing
+and pig-catching.
+
+Now came a singular contest--an eating match. Two dozen little Malay,
+Kling, Tamil, and Chinese boys were seated at regular intervals about
+an open circle by one of the governor's aids. Not one could touch the
+others in any way. Each had a dry, hard ship-biscuit before him. A
+pistol shot and two dozen pairs of little brown fists went pit-a-pat
+on the two dozen hard biscuits, and in an instant the crackers were
+broken to powder.
+
+Then commenced the difficult task of forcing the powdered pulp down
+the little throats. Both hands were called into full play during the
+operation, one for crowding in, the other for grinding the residue
+and patting the stomach and throat. Each little competitor would shyly
+rub into the warm earth, or hide away in the folds of his many-colored
+sarong, as much as possible, or when a rival was looking the other way,
+would snap a good-sized piece across to him.
+
+The little brown fellow who won the fifty-cent piece by finishing
+his biscuit first simply put into his mouth a certain quantity of the
+crushed biscuit, and with little or no mastication pushed the whole
+mass down his throat by sheer force.
+
+The minute the contest was decided, all the participants, and
+many other boys, rushed to a great tub of molasses to duck for
+half-dollars. One after another their heads would disappear into
+the sticky, blinding mass, as they fished with their teeth for the
+shining prizes at the bottom.
+
+Successful or otherwise, after their powers were exhausted they would
+suddenly pull out their heads, reeking with the molasses, and make
+for the ocean, unmindful of the crowds of natives in holiday attire
+who blocked their way.
+
+Then came a jinrikisha race, with Chinese coolies pulling Malay
+passengers around a half-mile course. Letting go the handles of their
+wagons as they crossed the line, the coolies threw their unfortunate
+passengers over backward.
+
+Tugs of war, wrestling matches, and boxing bouts on the turf finished
+the land sports, and we all adjourned to the yachts to witness those
+of the sea. There were races between men-of-war cutters, European
+yachts, rowing shells, Chinese sampans, and Malay colehs with great,
+dart-like sails, so wide-spreading that ropes were attached to the
+top of the masts, and a dozen naked natives hung far out over the
+side of the slender boat to keep it from blowing over. In making the
+circle of the harbor they would spring from side to side of the boat,
+sometimes lost to our view in the spray, often missing their footholds,
+and dragging through the tepid water.
+
+Between times, while watching the races, we amused ourselves
+throwing coppers to a fleet of native boys in small dugouts beneath
+our bows. Every time a penny dropped into the water, a dozen little
+bronze forms would flash in the sunlight, and nine times out of ten
+the coin never reached the bottom.
+
+Last of all came the trooping of the English colors on the magnificent
+esplanade, within the shadow of the cathedral; the march past of the
+sturdy British artillery and engineers, with their native allies, the
+Sikhs and Sepoys; then the feu-de-joie, and New Year's was officially
+recognized by the guns of the fort.
+
+That night we danced at Government House,--we exiles of the Temperate
+Zone,--keeping up to the last the fiction that New Year's Day under
+a tropic sky and within sound of the tiger's wail was really January
+first. But every remembrance and association was, in our homesick
+thoughts, grouped about an open arch fire, with the sharp, crisp
+creak of sleigh-runners outside, in a frozen land fourteen thousand
+miles away.
+
+
+
+
+
+IN THE BURST OF THE SOUTHWEST MONSOON
+
+A Tale of Changhi Bungalow
+
+
+We had been out all day from Singapore on a wild-pig hunt. There were
+eight of us, including three young officers of the Royal Artillery,
+besides somewhere between seventy and a hundred native beaters. The
+day had been unusually hot, even for a country whose regular record
+on the thermometer reads 150 degrees in the sun.
+
+We had tramped and shot through jungle and lallang grass, until, when
+night came on, I was too tired to make the fourteen miles back across
+the island, and so decided to push on a mile farther to a government
+"rest bungalow."  I said good-by to my companions and the game, and
+accompanied only by a Hindu guide, struck out across some ploughed
+lands for the jungle road that led to and ended at Changhi.
+
+Changhi was one of three rest bungalows, or summer resorts, if
+one can be permitted to mention summer in this land of perpetual
+summer. They were owned and kept open by the Singapore Government for
+the convenience of travellers, and as places to which its own officials
+can flee from the cares of office and the demands of society. I had
+stopped at Changhi Bungalow once for some weeks when my wife and a
+party of friends and all our servants were with me. It was lonely
+even then, with the black impenetrable jungle crowding down on three
+sides, and a strip of the blinding, dazzling waters of the uncanny
+old Straits of Malacca in front.
+
+There were tigers and snakes in the jungle, and crocodiles and sharks
+in the Straits, and lizards and other things in the bungalow. I thought
+of all this in a disjointed kind of a way, and half wished that I
+had stayed with my party. Then I noticed uneasily that some thick
+oily-looking clouds were blotting out the yellow haze left by the sun
+over on the Johore side. A few big hot drops of rain splashed down into
+my face, as I climbed wearily up the dozen cement steps of the house.
+
+The bamboo chicks were all down, and the shutter-doors securely locked
+from the inside, but there was a long rattan chair within reach,
+and I dropped into it with a sigh of satisfaction, while my guide
+went out toward the servant-quarters to arouse the Malay mandor, or
+head gardener, whom H. B. M.'s Government trusted with this portion
+of her East Indian possessions.
+
+As might have been expected, that high functionary was not to be
+found, and I was forced to content myself, while my guide went on to
+a neighboring native police station to make inquiries. I unbuttoned
+my stiff kaki shooting-jacket, lit a manila, which my mouth was too
+dry to smoke, and gazed up at the ceiling in silence.
+
+It was stiflingly hot. Even the cicadas in the great jungle tree, that
+towered a hundred and fifty feet above the house, were quiet. Every
+breath I took seemed to scorch me, and the balls of my eyes ached. The
+sky had changed to a dull cartridge color.
+
+A breeze came across the hot, glaring surface of the Straits, and
+stirred the tops of a little clump of palms, and died away. It brought
+with it the smell of rain.
+
+For a moment there was a dead stillness,--not even a lizard clucked
+on the wall back of me; then all at once the thermometer dropped down
+two or three degrees, and a tearing wind struck the bamboo curtains
+and stretched them out straight; the tops of the massive jungle trees
+bent and creaked; there was a blinding flash and a roar of thunder,
+and all distance was lost in darkness and rain. It was one of the
+quick, fierce bursts of the southwest monsoon.
+
+I did not move, although wet to the skin.
+
+Presently I could make out three blurred figures fighting their way
+slowly against the storm across the compound. One was the guide;
+the second was the mandor, naked save for a cotton sarong around his
+waist; the third was a stranger.
+
+The trio came up on the veranda--the stranger hanging behind, with an
+apologetic droop of his head. He was a white man, in a suit of dirty,
+ragged linen. It took but one look to place him. I had seen hundreds of
+them "on the beach" in Singapore,--there could be no mistake. "Loafer"
+was written all over him--from his ragged, matted hair to the fringe
+on the bottom of his trousers. He held a broken cork helmet, that had
+not seen pipe-clay for many a month, in his grimy hands, and scraped
+one foot and ducked his dripping head, as I turned toward him with
+a gruff,--
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," he said, in a harsh, rasping voice, "but I heard
+that the American Consul was here. I am an American."
+
+He looked up with a watery leer in his eyes.
+
+"Go on," I said, without offering to take the hand of my
+fellow-countryman.
+
+He let his arm fall to his side.
+
+"I ain't got any passport; that went with the rest, and I never had
+the heart to ask for another."
+
+He gave a bad imitation of a sob.
+
+"Never mind the side play," I commented, as he began to rumble in
+the bottomless pocket of his coat. "I will supply all that as you go
+along. What is it you want?"
+
+He withdrew his hand and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
+
+"Come in out of the rain and you won't need to do that," I said,
+amused at this show of feeling.
+
+"I thought as how you might give a countryman a lift," he whined.
+
+I smiled and stepped to the door.
+
+"Boy, bring the gentleman a whiskey and soda."
+
+The "boy" brought the liquor, while I commenced to unstrap and dry
+my Winchester.
+
+My fellow-countryman did not move, but stood nervously tottering from
+one leg to the other, as I went on with my task. He coughed once or
+twice to attract my attention.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, but I meant work--good, honest work. Work was what
+I wanted, to earn this very glass of whiskey for my little gal. She's
+sick, sir, sick--sick in a hut at the station."
+
+"Your little what?" I asked in amazement.
+
+"My little gal, sir. She's all that's left me. If you'll trust me
+with the glass, I'll take it to her. Can't give you no security,
+I'm afraid, only the word of a broken-down old father, who has got
+a little gal what he loves better than life!"
+
+My long experience with tramps and beach-combers was at fault. No
+words can convey an idea of the pathos and humility he threw into
+his tone and actions. The yearning of the voice, the almost divine
+air of self-abnegation, the subdued flash of pride here and there
+that suggested better days, the hopeless droop of the arms, and the
+irresolute tremble of the corners of his mouth would have appealed
+to the heart of a heathen idol. That one of his caste should refuse
+a glass of "Usher's Best," and be willing to brave the burst of a
+southwest monsoon to take it to any one--child, mother, or wife--was
+incredible.
+
+"Drink it," I said roughly. "You will need it before you get to the
+station. Boy, bring me my waterproof and an umbrella. Now out you
+go. We'll see whether this 'little gal' is male or female,--seven
+or seventy."
+
+The loafer snatched up his helmet with an avidity that admitted of
+no question as to his earnestness.
+
+We made a wild rush down across the oozing compound, through a little
+strip of dripping jungle, over a swaying foot-bridge that spanned
+the muddy Sonji Changhi, and along the sandy floor of a cocoanut
+grove. On the outskirts of a station we came upon a deserted bungalow,
+that was trembling in the storm on its rotten supports.
+
+We went up its rickety ladder and across its open bamboo floor, to
+the darkest corner, where, on an old mat under the only dry spot in
+the hut, lay a bundle of rags.
+
+My companion dropped down among the decayed stumps of pineapples and
+cocoanut refuse, and commenced to croon in a hoarse voice, "Daddy
+come,--Daddy come,--poor dearie," and made a motion as though to put
+the bottle to a small, dirty white face that I could just make out
+among the rags.
+
+I pushed him aside and gathered the unconscious little burden up into
+my arms. There was no time for sentiment. Every minute I expected
+the miserable old shelter would go over.
+
+We made our way as best we could back through the darkness and
+driving blasts of rain. The loafer followed with a long series of "God
+bless you's." He essayed once or twice to hold the umbrella over his
+"little gal's" head, but each time the wind turned it inside out, and
+he gave it up with an air of feeble inconsequence that characterized
+all his movements.
+
+I put my burden down on a couch in the dining room, and chafed her
+hands and feet, while the boy brought a beer bottle filled with
+hot water.
+
+It was a sweet little face, pinched and drawn, with big hazel eyes,
+that looked up into mine as my efforts sent the blood coursing through
+her veins. She was between five and six years old. A mass of dark
+brown hair, unkempt and matted, fell about her face and shoulders.
+
+I wrapped a rug about her. She was asleep almost before I had finished.
+
+A little later I roused her, and she nestled her damp little head
+against my shoulder as I gave her some soup; but her eyelids were
+heavy, and it seemed almost cruel to keep her awake, even for the
+food she so badly needed. The father had shuffled about uneasily
+during my motherly attentions, and seemed relieved when I was through.
+
+While the boy brought a steaming hot curry and a goodly supply of
+whiskey and soda, I turned the self-confessed father of the big hazel
+eyes into the bath-room.
+
+With the grime and dirt off his face he was pale and haggard. There
+were big blue marks under his shifting gray eyes and his hair hung
+ragged and singed about his ears.
+
+He had discarded his dirty linen for a blue-flannel bathing-suit that
+some former high official of H. B. M. service had left behind. There
+were traces of starvation or dissipation in every movement. His hand
+trembled as he conveyed the hot soup to his blue lips.
+
+Gradually the color came back to his sunken cheeks, and by the time
+he had laid in the second plate of curry and drank two whiskey and
+sodas he looked comparatively sleek and respectable. Even his anxiety
+for the little sleeper seemed to fade out of his weak face.
+
+I had been watching him narrowly during the meal. I could not make
+up my mind whether he was a clever actor or only an unfortunate;
+he might be the latter, and still be what I was certain of,--a scamp.
+
+The wind whistled and roared about the great verandas and into the
+glassless windows with all the vehemence of a New England snowstorm. It
+caught our well-protected punkah-lamps, and turned their broad flames
+into spiral columns of smoke. Ever and again a flash of lightning
+flared in our eyes, and revealed the water of the narrow straits
+lashed into a white fury.
+
+I should have been thankful for the company of even a dog on such a
+night, and think the loafer felt it, for I could see that he was more
+at ease with every crash of thunder. I tiptoed over to the "little
+gal," and noted her soft, regular breathing and healthful sleep,
+undisturbed by the fierce storm outside.
+
+I lit a manila, and handed one to my companion. We puffed a moment
+in silence, while the boy replenished our glasses.
+
+"Now," I said, tipping my chair back against the wall, "tell me
+your story."
+
+My guest's face at once assumed the expression of the professional
+loafer. My faith in him began to wane.
+
+"I am an American," he began glibly enough under the combined effects
+of the whiskey and dinner, "an old soldier. I fought with Grant in
+the Wilderness, and--"
+
+"Of course," I interrupted, "and with Sherman in Georgia. I have heard
+it all by a hundred better talkers than you. Suppose you skip it."
+
+I did not look up, but I was perfectly familiar with the expression
+of injured innocence that was mantling his face.
+
+He began again in a few minutes, but his voice had lost some of its
+engaging frankness.
+
+"I am the son of a kind and indulgent mother,--God bless her. My
+father died before I knew him--"
+
+I moved uneasily in my chair.
+
+He hurried on:--
+
+"I fell in bad ways in spite of her saintly love, and ran away to sea."
+
+"Look here, my friend," I said, "I am sorry to spoil your little tale,
+but it is an old one. Can't you give me something new? Now try again."
+
+He looked at me unsteadily under his thin eyebrows, shuffled restlessly
+in his seat, and said with something like a sob in his voice:--
+
+"Well, sir, I will. You have been kind to me and taken my little gal
+in; you saved her life, and, for a change, I'll tell you the truth."
+
+He drew himself up a little too ostentatiously, threw his head back,
+and said proudly:--
+
+"I am a gentleman born."
+
+"Good," I laughed. "Now you are on the right track, and besides you
+look it."
+
+"Ah! you may sneer," he retorted, "but I tell you the truth."
+
+His face flushed and his lip quivered. He brought his fist down on
+the table.
+
+"I tell you my father,--ah! but never mind my father." His voice
+failed him.
+
+"Certainly," I replied. "Only get on with your story."
+
+"I came out to India from Boston as a young man," he continued,
+"either in '66 or '68, I forget which."
+
+"Try '67," I suggested.
+
+"It was not '67," he exclaimed angrily, "it was either '66 or '68."
+
+"Or some other date. However, that's but a detail. Proceed."
+
+"Sir, you can make sport of me, but what I am telling you is God's
+truth. May I be struck dead if one lie passes my lips. I came out to
+plant coffee; I thought, like many others, that I had only to cut down
+the jungle and put in coffee plants, and make my everlasting fortune."
+
+"And didn't you?" I asked, glancing at his dilapidated old helmet
+that hung over the corner of the sideboard.
+
+"Look at me!" he burst forth, springing upon his feet, his breast
+heaving under his blue pajamas.
+
+"Pardon the question," I answered. "Go on, you are doing bravely."
+
+He sank back into his chair with a commendable air of dignity.
+
+"I had a little money of my own," he continued, "and opened up an
+estate. It promised well, but I soon came to the end of my small
+capital. I thought I could go to Calcutta and Bombay and Simla,
+and cultivate my mind by travel and society, while the bushes were
+growing. Well it ended in the same old way. I got into the chitties'
+hands--they are worse than Jews--at two per cent a month on a mortgage
+on my estate. Then I went back to it with a determination to pay up
+my debt, make my estate a success, and after that to see the world.
+I worked, sir, like a nigger, and for a time was able to meet my naked
+creditor, from month to month, hoping all the time against hope for
+a bumper crop."
+
+"I understand," I said. "Your bumper crop did not come, and your
+chitty did. Where does she come in?" I nodded in the direction of
+the little sleeper.
+
+He glanced uneasily in the same direction, and a tear gathered in
+his eye.
+
+"I married on credit, sir, the daughter of an English army officer. It
+was infernal. But, sir, you would have done likewise. Live under the
+burning sun of India for four years, struggle against impossibilities
+and hope against hope, and then have a pair of great hazel eyes look
+lovingly into yours and a pair of red lips turned up to yours,--and
+tell me if you would not have closed your eyes to the future, and
+accepted this precious gift as though it were sent from above?"
+
+The pale, shrunken face of the speaker glowed, and his faded eyes
+lit up with the light of love.
+
+"We were happy for a time, and the little gal was born, but the
+bumper crop did not come. Then, sir, I sold farm tools and my horse,
+and sent the wife to a hill station for her health. I kept the little
+gal. I stayed to work, as none of my natives ever worked. It was a
+gay station to which she went. You know the rest,--she never came
+back. That ended the struggle. I would have shot myself but for the
+little one. I took her and we wandered here and there, doing odd jobs
+for a few months at a time. I drifted down to Singapore, hoping to
+better myself, but, sir, I am about used up. It's hard--hard."
+
+He buried his head in his long, thin fingers, and sat perfectly still.
+
+There was a sound outside above the roar of the wind and the rain. At
+first faint and intermittent, it grew louder, and continuous, and
+came close. There was no mistaking it,--the march of booted men.
+
+"What's that?" asked my companion, with a start.
+
+"Tommy Atkins," I replied, "the clang of the ammunition boot as big
+as life."
+
+His face grew ashy white, and he looked furtively around the room.
+
+"What's the matter?" I exclaimed, but as I asked, I knew.
+
+I opened the bath-room door and shoved him in.
+
+"Go in there" I said, "and compose some more fairy tales."
+
+He was scarcely out of sight when the front door was thrown open,
+and a corporal's guard, wet yet happy, marched into the room.
+
+The corporal stood with his back to the door, and gave himself
+mental words of command,--"Eyes left, eyes right,"--then, as a last
+resource,--"eyes under the table." He had not noticed the little bundle
+in the dark corner. He drew himself up and gave the military salute.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, but we are out for a deserter from the 58th,--Bill
+Hulish,--we 'ave tracked him 'ere, and with the compliments of the
+commanding hofficer, we'll search the 'ouse."
+
+"Search away," I answered, as I heard the outside bath-room door open
+and close softly.
+
+They returned empty-handed, but not greatly disappointed.
+
+"Wet night, corporal," I ventured.
+
+"One of the worst as ever I knew, sir," he replied, eying the whiskey
+bottle and the two half-drained glasses.
+
+"'Ad a long march, sir, fourteen miles."
+
+I pushed the bottle toward him, and with a deprecatory salute he
+turned out a stiff drink.
+
+"'Ere's to yer 'ealth, sir, an' may ye always 'ave an extra glass
+ready for a visitor."
+
+I smiled, and motioned for his men to do likewise, and then, because
+he was a man of sweet composure and had not asked any questions as
+to the extra glass and chair, told him that his bird had flown.
+
+"Bad 'cess to him, sir, 'e's led us a pretty chase for these last
+four weeks. If 'e was only a deserter I wouldn't mind, but 'e's a
+kidnapper. Leastways, Tommy Loud's young'n turned up missin' the day
+he skipped, an' we ain't seen nothin' of 'er since."
+
+"Is this she?" I asked, leading him to the cot.
+
+Hardly looking at the child, he raised her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+"God be praised, sir," he said with a show of feeling. "We 'ave got
+her back. I think her mother would 'ave died if we 'ad come back again
+without her,--but, O my little darlin', you look cruel bad. Drugged,
+sir, that's what she is. Drugged to keep 'er quiet and save food. The
+blag'ard!"
+
+"But what did he take her for?" I asked.
+
+"Bless you, sir," replied the corporal, "she was his stock in trade. I
+reckon she's drawn many dibs out of other people's pockets that would
+'ave been nestlin' there to-day if it 'adn't 'a' bin for 'er."
+
+Then a broad grin broke over his ruddy features, and he looked at
+me quizzically.
+
+"But 'e was a great play hactor, sir."
+
+"And a poet," I added enthusiastically.
+
+"'E could beat Kipling romancin', sir." He checked himself, as though
+ashamed of awarding such meed of praise to his ex-colleague.
+
+"But we must be goin'; orders strict. With your permission, sir,
+I will leave her with a guard of one man for to-night, and send the
+ambulance for her in the morning."
+
+He drew up his little file, saluted, and marched out into the rain
+and wind, with all the cheerfulness of a duck.
+
+I could hear them singing as they crossed the compound and struck
+into the jungle road:--
+
+
+    "Oh, it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, go away';
+    But it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play,
+    The band begins to--"
+
+
+A peal of thunder that shook the bungalow from its attap roof to its
+nebong pillars drowned the melody and drove me inside.
+
+
+
+
+
+A PIG HUNT
+
+In the Malayan Jungle
+
+
+The thermometer stood at 155 degrees in the sun. The dry lallang grass
+crackled and glowed and returned long irregular waves of heat to the
+quivering metallic dome above.
+
+The sensitive mimosa, at our feet, had long since surrendered to the
+fierce wooing of the sun-god, submissively folding its leaves and
+then its branches and putting aside its morning dress of green for
+one more in keeping with the color of the earth and sky. Even the
+clamorous cicada had hushed its insistent whir.
+
+We were dressed in brown kaki suits. Wide-spreading cork helmets
+were filled with the stiff varnished leaves of the mango, and wet
+handkerchiefs were draped from underneath their rims; yet, after an
+hour of exposure, our flesh ached--it was tender to the touch. The
+barrel of my Express scorched my hand, and I wrapped my camerabuna
+about it. But then it was no hotter than any other day. In fact,
+we never gave a thought to the weather.
+
+We were formed in a line, perhaps two miles in length, in a
+deserted pepper plantation, fronting a jungle of timboso trees
+and rubber-vines. I squatted patiently under the checkered shade
+of a neglected coffee tree and kept my eyes fixed on the seemingly
+impenetrable walls of the jungle. A hundred feet to the right and the
+left, under like protection, were two of my companions, determined
+like myself to be successful in three points,--to have the first shot
+at the pigs, to avoid getting shot, or shooting a neighbor. But our
+minds rose above mental cautions with the first faint halloos of the
+Hindu shikaris on the opposite side of the jungle. In another moment
+the babel gave place to a confusion of shrieks, howls, yells, laughs,
+barking of dogs, beating of tins, blowing of horns, explosions of
+crackers, and a din that represents all that is wild and untamable
+in three nations. It is a weird, almost appalling prologue. Those
+laughs!--they are a study--they fairly chill the blood--they would make
+the fortune of a comic actor--so intense, thrilling, surprising, and
+seemingly filled with a ghoulish glee. Over and over they would break
+out clear and distinct above the tintamarre. I have never been able
+to find out whether it belongs to the Malay or the Kling or the Tamil.
+
+The yelling became more distinct. A troop of brown and silver wah-wahs
+swung with their long arms out to the very edge of the jungle and then
+up to the tops of the highest trees, the while uttering the full,
+clear note from which they take their name; followed by a troop of
+gray little jungle monkeys, whistling and scolding at the unwonted
+disturbance. A colony of cicadas on the limbs of a great gutta tree
+awoke into life and pierced our ears with buzz-saw strains.
+
+In an instant we were all alert,--the heat was forgotten. At any minute
+a herd of pigs might dart out and on to us, or possibly our drivers
+might rouse a tiger. The screaming ascended to a delirious pitch--the
+pigs were discovered! I threw my cartridge from the magazine into the
+barrel. It was a 50x95 Express and I had perfect confidence that one
+ball to a pig was sufficient.
+
+The yelling grew nearer until, with a sudden deploy, one hundred
+Klings and Malays dashed out into the open, close on the heels of a
+dozen wild pigs. We could just see their black backs above the grass,
+as they broke down a little ravine in single file, led by a big,
+hoary boar with tusks. They were three hundred yards off, but I could
+not resist the temptation. I brought my rifle to my shoulder and fired
+twice in rapid succession. Two or three more shots were heard beyond. I
+threw out the shells as the herd lunged on me. It was so sudden that
+I was dazed, but fortunately so were the pigs, with the exception of
+a wary old leader, who made into the jungle behind, almost between my
+legs. One little fellow threw himself on his haunches for an instant
+and stared at me. I came to my senses first and put a ball into his
+wondering eyes. My second shot was so near that it tore away a pound
+of meat from his shoulder and killed him instantly.
+
+The firing had opened up all along the line. The drivers were
+pushing in nearer and nearer, beating the grass and clumps of bushes,
+seemingly regardless of the widely flying balls. I suspect they held
+our prowess in contempt. I know they looked it, when it was discovered
+that out of the dozen pigs they had raised, we had allowed over half
+to escape. Then, too, their lives were insured, in a way; for they
+knew that their deaths would cost us twenty big Mexican dollars.
+
+Pig-hunting is the one big-game hunt that can be indulged in on the
+Malay Peninsula without great preparation and danger. Deer and tapirs
+are scarce. Tigers, or harimau as the Malays call them, abound, but
+live in the depths of the almost inaccessible jungle, and come forth
+only at rare intervals, except in the case of the man-eaters, who
+are usually ignominiously caught in pitfalls, very seldom affording
+true sport. Elephants are still hunted in the native states north
+of Singapore, but the sport is too expensive for the generality of
+sportsmen. One of the peculiar attributes of the Malayan tiger is his
+decided penchant for Chinese flesh, repeatedly striking down Chinese
+coolies in the fields to the exclusion of the Malays or Europeans who
+are working by their side. Perhaps once a month, a tiger or his skin
+will be brought into the city by natives, and several times at night
+I have heard them in the jungle; but to my knowledge only three have
+been shot by European sportsmen during my residence in the island. So
+wild pigs really remain the one item of big game.
+
+The pigs live in the jungle bordering plantations in which they can
+range for pineapples, sweet potatoes, and tapioca root. They are
+the ordinary wild hog, black in color, and fleet of foot. The older
+ones have good-sized tusks and show fight when cornered. The lone
+sportsman has very little chance of obtaining a shot, so they are
+hunted in large companies of from five to fifteen guns. Such parties
+generally organize a hunt at least once a week and leave Singapore
+early in the morning for an all-day shoot.
+
+The pig hunts organized by the officers of the Royal Artillery are
+the largest, and as a description of one is a description of all,
+I will take one up in regular order, rather than quote from many.
+
+We left Singapore at six o'clock in the morning in a four-horse
+dray. As the sun had not reached the tops of the trees, the
+atmosphere was mild and pleasant. A half-hour took us outside the
+great cosmopolitan city, of three hundred thousand inhabitants. The
+low, cool bungalows with their wide-spreading lawns gave place to
+the grass-thatched huts of the Chinese coolies, and the omnipresent
+eating-stalls. A hard-packed road carried us through almost endless
+cocoanut groves. At intervals a Malay kampong, or village, was
+revealed in the heart of the grove, its queer attap-thatched houses
+raised a man's height from the ground, and connected with it by rickety
+ladders. Dozens of nude little children played under the shadow of the
+palms, while the comely faces and syrah-stained teeth of their mothers
+peeped at us from behind low barred windows. The cocoanut groves were
+superseded by tapioca, pepper, and coffee plantations. At regular
+distances were neat stations, manned by Malay and Sikh police. The
+roads over which we dashed were in perfect repair. In another hour
+we were nine miles from Singapore and near our first "beat."
+
+Major Rich had sent his shikaris on the night before to collect
+beaters, so that when we arrived we were welcomed by a small
+army of Klings, Tamils, and Malays, and the usual sprinkling of
+pariah dogs. A wild, strange set are these beaters. They toil not,
+neither do they spin. Their wives do that occasionally, making a
+few sarongs for home use and an odd one for the market. Cocoanuts,
+pineapples, a little patch of paddy with a dozen half-wild chickens,
+and perchance, if they are not Mohammedans, a pig with its litter,
+afford them sustenance. For their day's beating they were to receive
+fifteen cents apiece. They were all ranged in line and counted,
+after which we took up our march through a plantation of tapioca,
+the brush standing about level with our heads. Chinese coolies
+were working about its roots keeping down the great pest of Malayan
+farmers,--lallang grass. The tapioca was broken in places by a few
+acres of pepper vines and again by neglected coffee shrubs.
+
+Our procession was truly formidable. Fifty or more natives went on
+ahead making a path. Then we followed, fifteen in number, each with
+a native to carry his gun. The rear was brought up by twoscore more
+and half as many dogs. Three-quarters of an hour's walk brought us
+to our first beat. The head shikaris placed us in an open position,
+from fifty to one hundred yards apart, facing the jungle. The beaters,
+in the meantime, had gone by a long detour around the jungle to drive
+whatever it contained within reach of our guns.
+
+In the second of these beats (I described the first in the opening of
+this chapter) a deer ran out far in advance of the pigs. We caught
+but a fleeting glimpse of it above the grass. My gun and that of my
+neighbor went off simultaneously. The deer disappeared. We rushed
+to the spot and found the leaves dyed with blood. Then commenced a
+chase, which, although fruitless, was well worth the exertion. All
+the panorama of tropical life seemed to lay in our tracks. For
+an half-hour we traversed the rolling plain with its burden of
+grass. Some smoker dropped a match in it, and in an instant it was
+all ablaze, spreading away like a whirlwind, burning only the very
+tips, toward a distant jungle. Then we dove into a bosky wood by
+a narrow winding path, and through a stream of water. The path was
+like a tunnel, the dense foliage shutting it in on both sides and
+above. The thorns of the rattans reached down and tore our clothes,
+and long trailing rubber-vines caught up our helmets and held our
+feet. In a marshy bit of jungle, a small colony of unwieldy sago
+palms found root, while pitcher-plants and orchids hung from almost
+every limb. Clumsy gray iguanas and long-tailed lizards of a brilliant
+green rushed up the trunks of lichen-covered trees. Troops of monkeys
+went scattering away on all sides, and black squirrels chattered on in
+the perfect security of the dim obscurity. In a bit of sandy bottom,
+a silken-haired, zebra-striped tapir scuttled away ere we were half
+alive to his presence.
+
+Outside was the metallic glare of the Malayan sun once more, now at its
+height, and another march was before us, over the burning hot mesa. At
+one o'clock we came upon a half-neglected plantation. The bloody trail
+of the deer led through it.  In the centre of the plantation we found
+a huge wedge-shaped attap house for drying pepper, and there we rested.
+
+Our tiffin baskets were six miles away in the dray, and sending after
+them was out of the question. So we foraged for eatables. Cocoanuts
+were easily obtained from trees all about, and a little whiskey
+mixed with its milk made a very refreshing drink. Pineapples, small
+oranges, limes, papayas, custard apples, and bananas were in large
+quantities. Our drivers added to this bill of fare by roasting the
+sweet-potato-like roots of the tapioca. After this impromptu lunch
+they compounded their quids of areca-nut and lime, and were ready
+once more to beat up an adjacent jungle for deer, pig, or tiger.
+
+As before, we were soon in position in the open before the jungle
+and the beaters were yelling at the top of their voices.
+
+I was half dozing in the sun, trying to smoke a Manila cigar that
+my mouth was too dry to draw, when I was aroused by my neighbor,
+who called my attention to a file of pigs at the extreme end of the
+line. I could just see what was going on from the knoll on which I
+was standing. They were received by Major Rich, one of his subalterns,
+and his Hindu gun-carrier. One of the file fell at the first volley,
+two more broke through the line, and the remaining six or seven,
+led by a fierce old fellow, from whose long tusks the foam dripped,
+turned up the line and charged point-blank on the next gunner, who
+fired and missed, but succeeded in keeping them between the line and
+the jungle. The fourth gun brought down the second pig and wounded the
+boar in the shoulder. Frantic with rage and pain, the old fellow tore
+up the ground and grass with his tusks and then, seeming to give up
+all idea of escape, wheeled sharply around and with his back bristles
+standing erect and his mouth open, charged directly on to the fifth,
+who was in the act of throwing the cartridge into the barrel. Taken
+completely by surprise, the officer gave one lusty yell and started
+to run in line with the gun on his right. The boar was gaining on
+him at every step when he tripped and fell. The report of No. 6's
+Winchester Express rang out almost simultaneously. For an instant we
+held our breaths, wondering whether the man or boar had been hit. It
+was a splendid shot and took a steady hand. The boar's shoulder was
+shattered and his heart reached. Two or three angry grunts and he lay
+quiet. He weighed close to three hundred pounds. The bristles on his
+back were white with age. All in all, he was not nice to look at.
+
+As half of our beaters were Mohammedans and so forbidden to touch pork,
+the burden of carrying our pigs the six miles through lallang grass,
+jungle and swamp land, came hard on our Brahmists. We knew that the
+only way to make them work was to call them "Sons of dogs" and walk
+off and leave them with a parting injunction to "get in by the time
+we did if they wanted their wages."
+
+This we did without deigning to notice their pathetic gestures,
+heart-rending appeals and protestations to the "Sons of the
+Heaven-Born" that they could not lift one hundredth part of such
+burdens.
+
+
+
+
+
+IN THE COURT OF JOHORE
+
+The Crowning of a Malayan Prince
+
+
+Tunku Ibrahim was just past seventeen when his father, the Sultan
+Abubaker, chose to recognize him as his heir and Crown Prince of
+Johore.
+
+From the day when the little prince had been deemed old enough to leave
+his mother and the women's palace until the day he had entered the
+native artillery as a lieutenant, he had been schooled and trained by
+the English missionaries and the Tuan Kadi, or Mohammedan high priest,
+as becomes a son of so illustrious a father.
+
+Tunku Ibrahim had made one trip to England when he was fifteen years
+old, and with his little cousin, the Tunku, or Prince, Othman, had
+dined with the Queen at Windsor.
+
+So, when the Sultan returned from a long stay at Carlsbad and found
+that the Sultana was dead and that Ibrahim had shot up into a man,
+he said:--
+
+"I am getting to be an old man and may die at any time. I will call
+all my nobles and people to the palace, and they shall see me place the
+crown on Ibrahim's head. Then if I die, he will rule, and the British
+will not take his country from him as long as he is wise and kingly."
+
+Whereupon his Highness sent out invitations to the Governor and all
+the foreign consuls in Singapore to be his guests and witness the
+crowning of his son.
+
+We started in quaint little box-like carriages, called gharries, long
+before the fierce Malayan sun had risen above the palms, accomplishing
+the fourteen miles across the beautiful island in little over an hour.
+
+The diminutive Deli ponies, not larger than Newfoundland dogs,
+broke into a run the moment we closed the lattice doors, and it was
+all their half-naked drivers could do to keep their perches on the
+swaying shafts.
+
+When we arrived at the little half-Malay, half-Chinese village of
+Kranji, on the shores of the famous old Straits of Malacca, our
+ponies were panting with heat, and the sun beat down on our white
+cork helmets with a quivering, naked intensity.
+
+Close up to the shore we found a long, keel boat manned by a dozen
+Malays in canary-colored suits. An aide-de-camp in a gorgeous uniform
+of gold and blue came forward and touched his forehead with the back
+of his brown palm and said in good English:--
+
+"His Highness awaits your excellencies."
+
+We stepped into the boat. The men lightly dipped their spear-shaped
+paddles in the tepid water, the rattan oarlocks squeaked shrilly,
+and the light prow shot out into the strait. We could see the istana,
+or palace, close down to the opposite shore, with the royal standard
+of white, with black star and crescent in centre, floating above it.
+
+For a moment I felt as though I had invaded some dreamland of my
+childhood.
+
+As our boat drew up to the iron pier that extended from the broad
+palace steps out into the straits, the guns from the little fort on the
+hill above the town boomed out a welcome and the flags of our several
+countries were run to the tops of the poles. A squad of native soldiers
+presented arms, and we were conducted up the stone steps, to the cool,
+dim corridors of the reception or waiting room. Malays in red fezzes
+and silken sarongs that hung about their legs like skirts conducted us
+along a marble hall to our rooms in a wing of the palace. Crowds were
+already gathering outside on the palace grounds, and we could look down
+from our windows and watch them as we bathed, dressed, and drank tea.
+
+The Chinese in their holiday pantaloons and shirts of pink, lavender,
+and blue silk: outnumbered all the other races; for, strange as it
+may seem, this Malay Sultan numbers among his 250,000 or 300,000
+subjects 175,000 Chinamen. They are as loyal and a great deal more
+industrious than the Malays, and many of them, styled Baboos, do not
+even know their native tongue.
+
+The Malays, dressed in gayly colored sarongs and bajus (jackets),
+with little rimless caps on their heads, squatted on their heels and
+chewed betel-nut, with eyes half closed and mouths distended.
+
+The Arab traders and shopkeepers were grouped about in little knots,
+gravely conversing and watching the files of gharries or carriages,
+and even rickshaws, that were bringing Malay unkus (princes not of
+the royal blood), patos (peers), holy men, and rich Chinese mandarins
+to the steps that led up to the plaza before the throne-room.
+
+The palace was two stories high, long and narrow. The interior rooms
+were separated from the outer walls by wide, airy corridors. The
+lattice-work windows were without glass and were arranged to admit
+the breezes from the ocean and ward off the searching rays of the
+equatorial sun. In these dusky corridors were long rattan chairs,
+divans, and tables covered with refreshments, and along its walls
+were arranged weapons of war and chase, Japanese suits of straw armor,
+Javanese shields, and Malay krises and limbings.
+
+In a little court at the end of our corridor, where a fountain splashed
+over a clump of lotus flowers and blue water lilies, a long-armed
+silver wah-wah monkey played with a black Malay cat that had a kink
+in its tail like the joint in a stovepipe, and chased the clucking
+little gray lizards up the polished walls.
+
+The gorgeous aide stared in poorly concealed wonderment, when he
+entered to conduct us to the grand salon, at my plain evening dress
+suit, destitute 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 glass from England, and rare old Satsuma ware from
+Japan. On a grand square German piano is a mass of music in which
+the masterpieces of all countries have equal rights with the national
+anthem of Johore.
+
+Going directly through a mass of Oriental drapery, we are in the
+throne-room, where are gathered the nobility 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 nobility of the kingdom, the ministers of
+state, and officers of the army and navy, the space back of them being
+filled with Chinese mandarins and towkoys, and rich native merchants
+in their picturesque costumes. In front of the nobility, 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 Circassian 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 nobles 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
+Johore,--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, bloody years when the
+deposed descendants of the once proud Emperors of Johore 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 stalactites. The fan-shaped, water-hoarding
+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 Johore 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 nobles, 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-glass mirror, at the far end, rested massive salvers of gold,
+engraven with the arms of Johore, 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 button 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 workmanship, and his fingers were cramped with almost
+priceless rings. In his buttonhole blazed a diamond orchid. The
+handle and scabbard of his sword were a solid mass 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, sturdy 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 Johore 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 Japanese 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 passed 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 glass 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 glass once more to his lips and said quietly,
+while his eyes twinkled at my confusion:--
+
+"Tell your great President that Abubaker, Sultan of Johore, 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 "God Save the Queen,"
+"My Country, 'tis of Thee," and bared our heads to the royal standard
+of Johore 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
+Johore, 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 Johore,
+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 Johore. 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 Johore 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 glassless 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 shining 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 assortment of wares, fez caps, brass
+finger-bowls, a praying rug, a few boxes of Japanese 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.
+
+The merchant gathers his flowing party-colored robes about him,
+tightens the turban head, and draws calmly at his water-pipe while a
+bevy of Hindu and Tamil women bargain for a new stud for their noses,
+a showy amulet, or a silver ring for their toes.
+
+Squatting right in the way of all passers is a Chinese travelling
+restaurant that looks like two flour barrels, one filled with drawers,
+the other containing a small charcoal fire. The old cookee, with
+his queue tied neatly up about his shaven head, takes a variety of
+mixtures from the drawers,--bits of dried fish, seaweed, a handful of
+spaghetti, possibly a piece of shark's fin, or better still a lump of
+bird's nest, places them in the kettle, as he yells from time to time,
+"Machen, machen" (eating, eating).
+
+Next to the Arab booth is a Chinese lamp shop, then a European
+dry-goods store, an Armenian law office, a Japanese bazaar, a foreign
+consulate.
+
+A babble of strange sounds and a jargon of languages salute the
+astonished boy's ears.
+
+In the broad well-paved streets about him a Malay syce, or driver,
+is trying to urge his spotted Deli pony, which is not larger than a
+Newfoundland dog, in between a big, lumbering two-wheeled bullock-cart,
+laden with oozing bags of vile-smelling gambier, and a great patient
+water buffalo that stands sleepily whipping the gnats from its black,
+almost hairless hide, while its naked driver is seated under the
+trees in the square quarrelling and gambling by turns.
+
+The gharry, which resembles a dry-goods box on wheels, set in with
+latticed windows, smashes up against the ponderous hubs of the
+bullock-cart. The meek-eyed bullocks close their eyes and chew their
+cuds, regardless of the fierce screams of the Malay or the frenzied
+objurgations of their driver.
+
+But no one pays any attention to the momentary confusion. A party of
+Jews dressed in robes of purple and red that sweep the street pass
+by, without giving a glance at the wild plunging of the half-wild
+pony. A Singhalese jeweller is showing his rubies and cat's-eyes to
+a party of Eurasian, or half-caste clerks, that are taking advantage
+of their master's absence from the godown to come out into the court
+to smoke a Manila cigarette and gossip. The mottled tortoise-shell
+comb in the vender's black hair, and his womanish draperies, give
+him a feminine aspect.
+
+An Indian chitty, or money-lender, stands talking to a brother,
+supremely unconscious of the eddying throng about. These chitties are
+fully six feet tall, with closely shaven heads and nude bodies. Their
+dress of a few yards of gauze wound about their waists, and red
+sandals, would not lead one to think that they handle more money
+than any other class of people in the East. They borrow from the
+great English banks without security save that of their caste name,
+and lend to the Eurasian clerks just behind them at twelve per cent
+a month. If a chitty fails, he is driven out of the caste and becomes
+a pariah. The caste make up his losses.
+
+Dyaks from Borneo idle by. Parsee merchants in their tall, conical
+hats, Chinese rickshaw runners and cart coolies, Tamil road-menders,
+Bugis, Achinese, Siamese, Japanese, Madras serving-men, negro firemen,
+Lascar sailors, throng the little square,--the agora of the commercial
+life of the city.
+
+Such is Singapore, embracing all the races of Asia and Europe. Is it
+any wonder that the American boy is bewildered, standing there under
+the great banian tree with a Malay in sarong and kris by his side,
+singing with his syrah-stained lips the glorious promises of the Koran?
+
+
+
+Look on the map of Asia for the southernmost point of the continent,
+and you will find it at the tip of the Malay Peninsula,--a giant
+finger that points down into the heart of the greatest archipelago in
+the world. At the very end of this peninsula, like a sort of cut-off
+joint of the finger, is the little island of Singapore, which is not
+over twenty-five miles from east to west, and does not exceed fifteen
+miles in width at its broadest point.
+
+The famous old Straits of Malacca, which were once the haunts of the
+fierce Malayan pirates, separate the island from the mainland and
+the Sultanate of Johore.
+
+The shipping that once worked its way through these narrow straits,
+in momentary fear that its mangrove-bound shores held a long, swift
+pirate prau, now goes further south and into the island-guarded harbor
+before Singapore.
+
+Nothing can be more beautiful than the sea approach to Singapore. As
+you enter the Straits, the emerald-green of a bevy of little islands
+obstructs the vision, and affords a grateful relief to the almost
+blinding glare of the Malayan sky, and the metallic reflections of
+the ocean.
+
+Some seem only inhabited by a graceful waving burden of strange,
+tropical foliage, and by a band of chattering monkeys; on others you
+detect a Malay kampong, or village, its umbrella-like houses of attap,
+close down to the shore, built high up on poles, so that half the time
+their boulevards are but vast mud-holes, the other half--Venice, filled
+with a moving crowd of sampans and fishing praus. A crowd of bronzed,
+naked little figures sport within the shadow of a maze of drying nets,
+and flee in consternation as the black, log-like head and cruel,
+watchful eyes of a crocodile glide quietly along the mangrove roots.
+
+On another island you discern the grim breastworks and the frowning
+mouth of a piece of heavy ordnance.
+
+Soon the island of Singapore reveals itself in a long line of dome-like
+hills and deep-cut shadows, whose stolid front quickly dissolves. The
+tufted tops of a sentinel palm, the wide-spreading arms of the banian,
+clumps of green and yellow bamboo, and the fan-shaped outlines of
+the traveller's palm become distinguishable. As the great, red,
+tropical sun rises from behind the encircling hills, the monotony
+of the foliage is relieved in places by objects which it all but hid
+from view. The granite minaret of the Mohammedan mosque, the carved
+dome of a Buddhist temple, the slender spire of an English cathedral,
+the bold projections of Government House, and the wide, white sides
+of the Municipal buildings all hold the eye.
+
+Then a maze of strange shipping screens the nearing shore--the military
+masts and yards of British and Dutch men-of-war, the high-heeled,
+shoe-like lines of Chinese junks, innumerable Malay and Kling sampans,
+and great, unwieldy Borneo tonkangs.
+
+For six miles along the wharves and for six miles back into the island
+extend the municipal limits of the city. Two hundred thousand people
+live within these limits; while outside, over the rest of the island
+along the sea-coast, in fishing villages, and in the interior on
+plantations of tapioca and pepper, live a hundred thousand more. Of
+these three hundred thousand over one hundred and seventy thousand
+are Chinese and only fifteen hundred are Europeans.
+
+Grouped about Raffles Square, and facing the Bund, are the great
+English, German, and Chinese houses that handle the three hundred
+million dollars' worth of imports and exports that pass in and out of
+the port yearly, and make Singapore one of the most important marts
+of the commercial world.
+
+Beyond, and back from the Square, is Tanglin, or the suburbs, where
+the government officials and the heads of these great firms live in
+luxurious bungalows, surrounded by a swarm of retainers.
+
+Let us drive from Raffles Square through this cosmopolitan city and
+out to Tanglin. Beginning at Cavanagh Bridge, at one end of which
+stands the great Singapore Club and the Post Office, is the ocean
+esplanade,--the pride of the city. It encloses a public playground
+of some fifteen acres, reclaimed from the sea at an expense of over
+two hundred thousand dollars. Every afternoon when the heat of the
+day has fallen from 150 deg. to 80 deg., the European population meets on this
+esplanade park to play tennis, cricket, and football, and to promenade,
+gossip, and listen to the music of the regimental or man-of-war band.
+
+The drive from the sea, up Orchard Road to the Botanic Gardens,
+carries you by all the diversified life of the city. The Chinese
+restaurant is omnipresent. By its side sits a naked little bit of
+bronze, with a basket of sugar-cane--each stick, two feet long, cleaned
+and scraped, ready for the hungry and thirsty rickshaw coolies, who
+have a few quarter cents with which to gratify their appetites. On
+every veranda and in every shady corner are the Kling and Chinese
+barbers. They carry their barber-shops in a kit or in their pockets,
+and the recipient of their skill finds a seat as best he may. The
+barber is prepared to shave your head, your face, trim your hair,
+braid your queue, and pull the hairs out of your nose and ears.
+
+There is no special quarter for separate trades. Madras tailor shops
+rub shoulders with Malay blacksmith shops, while Indian wash-houses
+join Manila cigar manufactories.
+
+Once past the commercial part of the ride, the great bungalows of the
+European and Chinese merchants come into view. The immediate borders
+of the road itself reveal nothing but a dense mass of tropical verdure
+and carefully cut hedges, but at intervals there is a wide gap in
+the hedge, and a road leads off into the seeming jungle. At every
+such entrance there are posts of masonry, and a plate bearing the
+name of the manor and its owner.
+
+At the end of a long aisle of palms and banians you see a bit of
+wide-spreading veranda, and the full-open doors of a cool, black
+interior. Acres of closely shaven lawns, dotted with flowering shrubs
+of the brightest reds, deepest purples, and fieriest solferinos,
+beds of rich-hued foliage plants, and cool, green masses of ferns
+meet your eye.
+
+Perhaps you spy the inevitable tennis-court, swarming with players,
+and bordered with tables covered with tea and sweets. Red-turbaned
+Malay kebuns, or gardeners, are chasing the balls, and scrupulously
+clean Chinese "boys" are passing silently among the guests with trays
+of eatables.
+
+Dozens of gharries dodge past. Hundreds of rickshaws pull out of
+the way.
+
+A great landau, drawn by a pair of thoroughbred Australian horses,
+driven by a Malay syce, and footman in full livery, and containing a
+bare-headed Chinese merchant, in the simple flowing garments of his
+nation, dashes along. The victoria and the dog-cart of the European,
+and the universal palanquin of the Anglo-Indian, form a perfect maze
+of wheels.
+
+Suddenly the road is filled with a long line of bullock-carts. You
+swing your little pony sharply to one side, barely escaping the big
+wooden hub of the first cart. The syce springs down from behind,
+and belabors the native bullock driver, who, paying no attention to
+the blows rained upon his naked back, belabors his beasts in turn,
+calling down upon their ungainly humps the curses of his religion. The
+scene is so familiar that only a "globe-trotter" would notice it. Yet
+to me there is nothing more truly artistic, or more typically Indian
+in India, than a long line of these bullock-carts, laden with the
+products of the tropics,--pineapples, bananas, gambier, coffee,--urged
+on by a straight, graceful driver, winding slowly along a palm and
+banian shaded road. We would meet such processions at every turning,
+but never without recalling glorious childish pictures of the Holy
+Land and Bible scenery as we painted them, while our father read of a
+Sunday morning out of the old "Domestic Bible,"--we children pronounce
+it "Dom-i-stick,"--how the Lord said unto Moses, "Go take twenty fat
+bullocks and offer them as a sacrifice." As we would see these "twenty
+fat bullocks" time and again, I confess, with a feeling of reluctance,
+that some of the gilt and rose tint was rubbed from our childish
+pictures, and that a realistic artist drawing from the life before him
+would not deck out the patient subject in quite our extravagant colors.
+
+The color of the Indian bullock varies. Some are a dirty white,
+some a cream color, some almost pink, and a few are of the darker
+shades. They are about the size of our cows, seldom as large as a
+full-grown ox. Their horns, which are generally tipped with curiously
+carved knobs, and often painted in colors, are as diversified in
+their styles of architecture as are the horns of our cattle, though
+they are more apt to be straight and V-shaped. Their necks are always
+"bowed to the yoke," to once more use biblical phraseology, and seem
+almost to invite its humiliating clasp. Above their front legs is the
+mark of their antiquity, the great clumsy, flabby, fleshy, tawny hump,
+always swaying from side to side, keeping time to every plodding step
+of its sleepy owner. This seemingly useless mountain of flesh serves
+as a cushion against which rests a yoke. Not the natty yoke of our
+rural districts, but a simple pole, with a pin of wood through each
+end, to ride on the outside of the bullocks' necks. The burden comes
+against the projecting hump when the team pulls. To the centre of this
+yoke is tied, with strong withes of rattan, the pole of a cart, that
+in this nineteenth century is generally only to be seen in national
+museums, preserved as a relic of the first steps in the art of wagon
+building. And yet as a cart it is not to be despised: all the heavy
+traffic of the colonies is done within its rude board sides. It has
+two wheels, with heavy square spokes that are held on to a ponderous
+wooden axle-tree by two wooden pins. A platform bottom rests on the
+axle-tree, and two fence-like sides.
+
+The genie of the cart, the hewer of wood and drawer of water, is a
+tall, wiry, bronze-colored Hindu. He has a yard of white gauze about
+his waist, and another yard twisted up into a turban on his head. The
+dictates of fashion do not interest him. He does not plod along year in
+and year out behind his team for the pittance of sixty cents per day,
+to squander on the outside of his person. Not he. He has a wife up near
+Simla. He hopes to go back next year, and buy a bit of ground back from
+the hill on the Allabadd road from his father-in-law, old Mohammed
+Mudd. They have cold weather up in Simla, and he knows of a certain
+gown he is going to buy of a Chinaman in the bazaar. But his bullocks
+lag, and he saws on the gamooty rope that is attached to their noses,
+and beats them half consciously with his rattan whip. Ofttimes he will
+stand stark upright in the cart for a full half-hour, with his rattan
+held above his head in a threatening attitude, and talk on and on to
+his animals, apotheosizing their strength and patience, telling them
+how they are sacred to Buddha, how they are the companions of man, and
+how they shall have an extra chupa of paddy when the sun goes down,
+and he has delivered to the merchant sahib on the quay his load of
+gambier; or he reproves them for their slowness and want of interest,
+and threatens them with the rod, and tells them to look how he holds it
+above them. If in the course of the harangue one of the dumb listeners
+pauses to pick a mouthful of young lallang grass by the roadside,
+the softly crooning tones give place to a shriek of denunciation.
+
+The agile Kling springs down from his improvised pulpit, and rushes
+at the offender, calls him the offspring of a pariah dog, shows him
+the rattan, rubs it against his nose, threatening to cut him up with
+it into small pieces, and to feed the pieces to the birds. Then he
+discharges a volley of blows on the sleek sides of the offender, that
+seem to have little more effect than to raise a cloud of tiger gnats,
+and to cause the recipient to bite faster at the tender herbs.
+
+As the bullock-cart that has blocked our way, and at the same time
+inspired this description, shambles along down the shady road, and
+out of the reach of the syce's arms, the driver slips quietly up the
+pole of the cart until a hand rests on either hump, and commences
+to talk in a half-aggrieved, half-caressing tone to his team. Our
+syce translates. "He say bullock very bad to go to sleep before the
+palanquin of the Heaven-Born. If they no be better soon, their souls
+will no become men. He say he sorry that they make the great American
+sahib angry."
+
+The singular trio passes on, the driver praising and reprimanding
+by turns in the soft, musical tongue of his people, the historic
+beasts swinging lazily along, regardless of their illustrious past,
+all unconscious of the fact that their names are embalmed in sacred
+writ and Indian legend, and rounding a corner of the broad, red road,
+are lost to view amid the olive-green shadows of a clump of gently
+swaying bamboo. To me, for the moment, they seem to disappear, like
+phantoms, into the mists of the dim centuries, from out of which my
+imagination has called them forth.
+
+Soon you are at the wide-open gates of the Botanic Garden. A perfect
+riot of strange tropical foliage bursts upon the view. The clean, red
+road winds about and among avenues of palms, waringhans, dark green
+mangosteens, casuarinas, and the sweet-smelling hibiscus, all alike
+covered with a hundred different parasitic vines and ferns. Artificial
+lakes and moats are filled with the giant pods of the superb Victoria
+regia, and the flesh-colored cups of the lotus.
+
+In the translucent green twilight of the flower-houses a hundred
+varieties of the costly orchids thrive--not costly here. A shipload
+can be bought of the natives for three cents apiece.
+
+Walks carry you out into the dim aisles of the native jungle. Monkeys,
+surprised at your footsteps, spring from limb to limb, and swing,
+chattering, out of sight in a mass of rubber-vines. Splendid
+macadamized roads, that are kept in perfect repair by a force of
+naked Hindus and an iron roller drawn by six unwilling, hump-backed
+bullocks, spread out over the island in every direction. Leave one at
+any point outside the town, and plunge into the bordering jungle,
+and you are liable to meet a tiger or a herd of wild boar. The
+tigers swim across the straits from the mainland, and occasionally
+strike down a Chinaman. It is said that if a Chinaman, a Malay, and
+a European are passing side by side through a field, the tiger will
+pick out the Chinaman to the exclusion of the other two.
+
+Acres upon acres of pineapples stretch away on either hand, while
+patches of bananas and farms of coffee are interspersed with spice
+trees and sago swamps.
+
+This road system is the secret of the development of the agriculture,
+and one of the secrets of the rapid growth of the great English
+colonies. Were it not for the great black python, that lies sleeping in
+the road in front of you, or the green iguana that hangs in a timboso
+tree over your head, or a naked runner pulling a rickshaw, you might
+think you were travelling the wide asphaltum streets of Washington.
+
+The home of the European in Singapore is peculiar to the country. The
+parks about their great bungalows are small copies of the Botanic
+Gardens--filled with all that is beautiful in the flora of the
+East. From five to twenty servants alone are kept to look after its
+walks and hedges and lawns.
+
+A bungalow proper may consist of but a half-dozen rooms, and yet look
+like a vast manor house. It is the generous sweep of the verandas
+running completely around the house that lends this impression. Behind
+its bamboo chicks you retire on your return from the office. The
+Chinese "boy" takes your pipe-clayed shoes and cork helmet, and
+brings a pair of heelless grass slippers. If a friend drop in, you
+never think of inviting him into your richly furnished drawing-room,
+but motion him to a long rattan chair, call "Boy, bring the master
+a cup of tea," and pass a box of Manila cigars.
+
+Bungalows are one story high, with a roof of palm thatch, and are
+raised above the ground from two to five feet by brick pillars, leaving
+an open space for light and air beneath. Nearly every day it rains
+for an hour in torrents. The hot, steaming earth absorbs the water,
+and the fierce equatorial sun evaporates it, only to return it in a
+like shower the next day. So every precaution must be taken against
+dampness and dry-rot.
+
+In every well-ordered bungalow seven to nine servants are an
+absolute necessity, while three others are usually added from time
+to time. The five elements, if I may so style them, are the "boy,"
+or boys, the cook and his helpers, the horseman, the water-carrier,
+the gardener, and the maid. The adjuncts are the barber, the wash man,
+the tailor, and the watchman. In a mild way, you are at the mercy of
+these servants. Their duties are fixed by caste, one never intruding
+on the work of another. You must have all or none. Still this is
+no hardship. Only newcomers ever think, of trying to economize on
+servant bills. The record of the thermometer is too appalling, and
+you speedily become too dependent on their attentions.
+
+The Chinese "boy"--he is always the "boy" until he dies--is the
+presiding genius of the house. He it is who brings your tea and fruit
+to the bedside at 6 A.M., and lays out your evening suit ready for
+dinner, puts your studs in your clean shirt, brings your slippers,
+knows where each individual article of your wardrobe is kept, and,
+in fact, thinks of a hundred and one little comforts you would never
+have known of, had he not discovered them. He is your valet de chambre,
+your butler, your steward and your general agent, your interpreter and
+your directory. He controls the other servants with a rod of iron,
+but bows to the earth before the mem, or the master. For his ten
+Mexican dollars a month he takes all the burdens from your shoulders,
+and stands between you and the rude outside polyglot world. He is
+a hero-worshipper, and if you are a Tuan Besar--great man--he will
+double his attentions, and spread your fame far and wide among his
+brother majordomos.
+
+But a description of each member of the menage and their duties would
+be in a large measure the description of the odd, complex life of
+the East.
+
+The growth of Singapore since its founding by Sir Stamford Raffles
+in 1819 would do honor to the growth of one of our Western cities.
+
+Within three months after the purchase of the ground from the Sultan
+of Johore, Raffles wrote to Lord Warren Hastings, the Governor:--
+
+"We have a growing colony of nearly five thousand souls," and a little
+later one of his successors wrote apologetically to Lord Auckland,
+discussing some project relating to Singapore finance;--
+
+"These details may appear to your Lordship petty, but then everything
+connected with these settlements is petty, except their annual surplus
+cost to the Government of India."
+
+To-day the city and colony has a population of over one million,
+and a revenue of five million dollars--a magnificent monument to its
+founder's foresight!
+
+From a commercial and strategic stand-point, the site of the city is
+unassailable. When the English and the Dutch divided the East Indies
+by drawing a line through the Straits of Malacca,--the English to hold
+all north, the Dutch all south,--the crafty Dutchman smiled benignly,
+with one finger in the corner of his eye, and went back to his coffee
+and tobacco trading in the beautiful islands of Java and Sumatra,
+pitying the ignorance of the Englishman, who was contented with the
+swampy jungles of an unknown and savage neck of land, little thinking
+that inside of a half century all his products would come to this
+same despised district for a market, while his own colonies would
+retrograde and gradually pass into the hands of the English.
+
+Singapore is one of the great cities of the world, the centre of all
+the East Indian commerce, the key of southern Asia, and one of the
+massive links in the armored chain with which Great Britain encircles
+the globe.
+
+
+
+
+
+A FIGHT WITH ILLANUM PIRATES
+
+The Yarn of a Yankee Skipper
+
+
+The Daily Straits Times on the desk before me contained a vivid
+word picture of the capture of the British steamship Namoa by three
+hundred Chinese pirates, the guns of Hong Kong almost within sight,
+and the year of our Lord 1890 just drawing to a close. The report
+seemed incredible.
+
+I pushed the paper across the table to the grizzled old captain
+of the Bunker Hill and continued my examination of the accounts of
+a half-dozen sailors of whom he was intent on getting rid. By the
+time I had signed the last discharge and affixed the consular seal
+he had finished the article and put it aside with a contemptuous
+"Humph!" expressive of his opinion of the valor of the crew and
+officers. I could see that he was anxious for me to give him my
+attention while he related one of those long-drawn-out stories of
+perhaps a like personal experience. I knew the symptoms and sometimes
+took occasion to escape, if business or inclination made me forego
+the pleasure. To-day I was in a mood to humor him.
+
+There is always something deliciously refreshing in a sailor's yarn. I
+have listened to hundreds in the course of my consular career, and
+have yet to find one that is dull or prosy. They all bear the imprint
+of truth, perhaps a trifle overdrawn, but nevertheless sparkling with
+the salt of the sea and redolent of the romance of strange people
+and distant lands. In listening, one becomes almost dizzy at the
+rapidity with which the scene and personnel change. The icebergs and
+the aurora borealis of the Arctic give place to the torrid waters
+and the Southern Cross of the South Pacific. A volcanic island, an
+Arabian desert, a tropical jungle, and the breadth and width of the
+ocean serve as the theatre, while a Fiji Islander, an Eskimo, and
+a turbaned Arab are actors in a half-hour's tale. In interest they
+rival Verne, Kingston, or Marryat. All they lack is skilled hands to
+dress them in proper language.
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE CAPTAIN'S YARN
+
+
+The captain helped himself to one of my manilas and began:--
+
+I've nothing to say about the fate of the poor fellows on the Namoa,
+seeing the captain was killed at the first fire, but it looks to me
+like a case of carelessness which was almost criminal. The idea of
+allowing three hundred Chinese to come aboard as passengers without
+searching them for arms. Why! it is an open bid to pirates. Goes to
+show pretty plain that these seas are not cleared of pirates. Sailing
+ships nowadays think they can go anywhere without a pound of powder
+or an old cutlass aboard, just because there is an English or Dutch
+man-of-war within a hundred miles. I don't know what we'd have done
+when I first traded among these islands without a good brass swivel
+and a stock of percussion-cap muskets.
+
+Let me see; it was in '58, I was cabin boy on the ship Bangor. Captain
+Howe, hale old fellow from Maine, had his two little boys aboard. They
+are merchants now in Boston. I've been sailing for them on the Elmira
+ever since. We were trading along the coast of Borneo. Those were
+great days for trading in spite of the pirates. That was long before
+iron steamers sent our good oaken ships to rot in the dockyards of
+Maine. Why, in those days you could see a half-dozen of our snug
+little crafts in any port of the world, and I've seen more American
+flags in this very harbor of Singapore than of any other nation. We
+had come into Singapore with a shipload of ice (no scientific ice
+factories then), and had gone along the coast of Java and Borneo to
+load with coffee, rubber, and spices, for a return voyage. We were
+just off Kuching, the capital of Sarawak, and about loaded, when the
+captain heard that gold had been discovered somewhere up near the head
+of the Rejang. The captain was an adventurous old salt, and decided
+to test the truth of the story; so, taking the long-boat and ten men,
+he pulled up the Sarawak River to Kuching and got permission of Rajah
+Brooke to go up the Rejang on a hunting expedition. The Rajah was
+courteous, but tried to dissuade us from the undertaking by relating
+that several bands of Dyaks had been out on head-hunting expeditions
+of late, and that the mouth of the Rejang was infested by Illanum
+pirates. The captain only laughed, and jokingly told Sir James that
+if the game proved scarce he might come back and claim the prize
+money on a boat-load of pirate heads.
+
+We started at once,--for the captain let me go; we rowed some sixty
+miles along the coast to the mouth of the Rejang; then for four days
+we pulled up its snakelike course. It was my first bit of adventure,
+and everything was strange and new. The river's course was like a
+great tunnel into the dense black jungle. On each side and above we
+were completely walled in by an impenetrable growth of great tropical
+trees and the iron-like vines of the rubber. The sun for a few hours
+each day came in broken shafts down through the foliage, and exposed
+the black back of a crocodile, or the green sides of an iguana. Troops
+of monkeys swung and chattered in the branches above, and at intervals
+a grove of cocoanut broke the monotony of the scenery. Among them we
+would land and rest for the day or night, eat of their juicy fruit,
+and go on short excursions for game. A roasted monkey, some baked yams,
+and a delicious rice curry made up a royal bill of fare, and as the
+odor of our tobacco mixed with the breathing perfume of the jungle,
+I would fall asleep listening to sea-yarns that sometimes ran back
+to the War of 1812.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+At the end of the fifth day we arrived at the head of the Rejang. Here
+the river broke up into a dozen small streams and a swamp. A stockade
+had been erected, and the Rajah had stationed a small company of
+native soldiers under an English officer to keep the head-hunting
+Dyaks in check. I don't remember what our captain found out in regard
+to the gold fields, at least it was not encouraging; for he gave up
+the search and joined the English lieutenant in a grand deer-hunt
+that lasted for five days, and then started back accompanied by two
+native soldiers bearing despatches to the Rajah.
+
+It was easy running down the river with the current. One man in each
+end of the boat kept it off roots, sunken logs, and crocodiles, and the
+rest of us spent the time as best our cramped space allowed. Twice
+we detected the black, ugly face of a Dyak peering from out the
+jungle. The men were for hunting them down for the price on their
+heads, but the captain said he never killed a human being except in
+self-defence, and that if the Rajah wanted to get rid of the savages he
+had better give the contract to a Mississippi slave-trader. Secretly,
+I was longing for some kind of excitement, and was hoping that the
+men's clamorous talk would have some effect. I never doubted our
+ability to raid a Dyak village and kill the head-hunters and carry off
+the beautiful maidens. I could not see why a parcel of blacks should
+be such a terror to the good Rajah, when Big Tom said he could easily
+handle a dozen, and flattered me by saying that such a brawny lad as
+I ought to take care of two at least.
+
+In the course of three days we reached the mouth of the river, and
+prepared the sail for the trip across the bay to the Bangor. Just as
+everything was in readiness, one of those peculiar and rapid changes
+in the weather, that are so common here in the tropics near the
+equator, took place. A great blue-black cloud, looking like an immense
+cartridge, came up from the west. Through it played vivid flashes of
+lightning, and around it was a red haze. "A nasty animal," I heard the
+bo's'n tell the captain, and yet I was foolishly delighted when they
+decided to risk a blow and put out to sea. The sky on all sides grew
+darker from hour to hour. A smell of sulphur came to our nostrils. It
+was oppressively hot; not a breath of wind was stirring. The sail
+flapped uselessly against the mast, and the men labored at the oars,
+while streams of sweat ran from their bodies.
+
+The captain had just taken down the mast, when, without a moment's
+warning, the gale struck us and the boat half filled with water. We
+managed to head it with the wind, and were soon driving with the
+rapidity of a cannon-ball over the boiling and surging waters. It was
+a fearful gale; we blew for hours before it, ofttimes in danger of a
+volcanic reef, again almost sunk by a giant wave. I baled until I was
+completely exhausted. But the long-boat was a stanch little craft, and
+there were plenty of men to manage it, so as long as we could keep her
+before the wind, the captain felt no great anxiety as to our safety.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+At about six bells in the afternoon, the wind fell away, and the
+rain came down in torrents, leaving us to pitch about on the rapidly
+decreasing waves, wet to the skin and unequal to another effort. We
+were within a mile of a rocky island that rose like a half-ruined
+castle from the ocean. The Dyak soldiers called it Satang Island,
+and I have sailed past it many a time since. Without waiting for
+the word, we rowed to it and around it, before we found a suitable
+beach on which to land. One end of the island rose precipitous and
+sheer above the beach a hundred feet, and ended in a barren plateau
+of some two dozen acres. The remainder comprised some hundred acres
+of sand and rocks, on which were half a dozen cocoanut trees and a
+few yams. Along the beach we found a large number of turtles' eggs.
+
+The captain, remembering the Rajah's caution in regard to pirates,
+decided not to make a light, but we were wet and hungry and overcame
+his scruples, and soon had a huge fire and a savory repast of coffee,
+turtles' eggs, and yams. At midnight it was extinguished, and a
+watch stationed on top of the plateau. Toward morning I clambered
+grumblingly up the narrow, almost perpendicular sides of the rift
+that cut into the rocky watch-tower. I did not believe in pirates
+and was willing to take my chances in sleep. I paced back and forth,
+inhaling deep breaths of the rich tropical air; below me the waves
+beat in ripples against the rugged beach, casting off from time to
+time little flashes of phosphorescent light, and mirroring in their
+depths the hardly distinguishable outline of the Southern Cross. The
+salt smell of the sea was tinged with the spice-laden air of the
+near coast. Drowsiness came over me. I picked up a musket and paced
+around the little plateau. The moon had but just reached its zenith,
+making all objects easily discernible. The smooth storm-swept space
+before me reflected back its rays like a well-scrubbed quarter-deck;
+below were the dark outlines of my sleeping mates. I could hear the
+light wind rustling through the branches of the casuarina trees that
+fringed the shore. I paused and looked over the sea. Like a charge
+of electricity a curious sensation of fear shot through me. Then an
+intimation that some object had flashed between me and the moon. I
+rubbed my eyes and gazed in the air above, expecting to see a night
+bird or a bat. Then the same peculiar sensation came over me again,
+and I looked down in the water below just in time to see the long,
+keen, knife-like outline of a pirate prau glide as noiselessly as a
+shadow from a passing cloud into the gloom of the island.  Its great,
+wide-spreading, dark red sails were set full to the wind, and hanging
+over its sides by ropes were a dozen naked Illanums, guiding the
+sensitive craft almost like a thing of life. Within the prau were
+two dozen fighting men, armed with their alligator hide buckler,
+long, steel-tipped spear, and ugly, snake-like kris. A third prau
+followed in the wake of the other two, and all three were lost in
+the blackness of the overhanging cliffs.
+
+
+
+With as little noise as possible, I ran across the plain and warned my
+companion, then picked my way silently down the defile to the camp. The
+captain responded to my touch and was up in an instant. The men were
+awakened and the news whispered from one to another. Gathering up
+what food and utensils we possessed, we hurried to get on top of
+the plateau before our exact whereabouts became known. The captain
+hoped that when they discovered we were well fortified and there was
+no wreck to pillage, they would withdraw without giving battle. They
+had landed on the opposite side of the island from our boat and might
+leave it undisturbed. We felt reasonably safe in our fortress from
+attacks. There were but two breaks in its precipitous sides, each a
+narrow defile filled with loose boulders that could easily be detached
+and sent thundering down on an assailant's head. On the other hand,
+our shortness of food and water made us singularly weak in case of
+siege. But we hoped for the best. Two men were posted at each defile,
+and as nothing was heard for an hour, most of us fell asleep.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+It was just dawn, when we were awakened by the report of two muskets
+and the terrific crashing of a great boulder, followed by groans
+and yells. With one accord we rushed to the head of the canon.
+The Illanums, naked, with the exception of party-colored sarongs
+around their waists, with their bucklers on their left arms and
+their gleaming knives strapped to their right wrists, were mounting
+on each other's shoulders, forcing a way up the precipitous defile,
+unmindful of the madly descending rocks that had crushed and maimed
+more than one of their number. They were fine, powerful fellows, with
+a reddish brown skin that shone like polished ebony. Their hair was
+shorn close to their heads; they had high cheek bones, flat noses,
+syrah-stained lips, and bloodshot eyes. In their movements they were
+as lithe and supple as a tiger, and commanded our admiration while
+they made us shudder. We knew that they neither give nor take quarter,
+and for years had terrorized the entire Bornean coast.
+
+We were ready to fire, but a gesture from the captain restrained us;
+our ammunition was low, and he wished to save it until we actually
+needed it. By our united efforts we pried off two of the volcanic
+rocks, which, with a great leap, disappeared into the darkness below,
+oftentimes appearing for an instant before rushing to the sea. Every
+time an Illanum fell we gave a hearty American cheer, which was
+answered by savage yells. Still they fought on and up, making little
+headway. We were gradually relaxing our efforts, thinking that they
+were sick of the affair, when the report of a musket from the opposite
+side of the island called our attention to the bo's'n, who had been
+detailed to guard the other defile.
+
+The bo's'n and one native soldier were fighting hand to hand with a
+dozen pirates who were forcing their way up the edge of the cliff. Half
+of the men dashed to their relief just in time to see the soldier go
+over the precipice locked in the arms of a giant Illanum. One volley
+from our muskets settled the hopes of the invaders.
+
+Our little party was divided, and we were outnumbered ten to one. One
+of the sailors in dislodging a boulder lost his footing and went
+crashing down with it amid the derisive yells of the pirates. Suddenly
+the conflict ceased and the pirates withdrew. In a short time we
+could see them building a number of small fires along the beach, and
+the aroma of rice curry came up to us with the breeze. The captain, I
+could see, was anxious, although my boyish feelings did not go beyond
+a sense of intoxicating excitement. I heard him say that nothing but
+a storm or a ship could save us in case we were besieged; that it
+was better to have the fight out at once and die with our arms in
+our hands than to starve to death.
+
+Giving each a small portion of ship biscuit and a taste of water,
+he enjoined on each a careful watchfulness and a provident use of
+our small stock of provisions.
+
+I took mine in my hand and walked out on the edge of the cliff somewhat
+sobered. Directly below me were the pirates, and at my feet I noticed
+a fragment of rock that I thought I could loosen. Putting down my food,
+I foolishly picked up a piece of timber which I used as a lever, when,
+without warning, the mass broke away, and with a tremendous bound
+went crashing down into the very midst of the pirates, scattering
+them right and left, and ended by crushing one of the praus that was
+drawn up on the sand.
+
+In an instant the quiet beach was a scene of the wildest confusion. A
+surging, crowding mass of pirates with their krises between their
+teeth dashed up the canon, intent on avenging their loss. I dropped
+my lever and rushed back to the men, nearly frightened to death at
+the result of my temerity. There was no time for boulders; the men
+reached the brink of the defile just in time to welcome the assailants
+with a broadside. Their lines wavered, but fresh men took the places
+of the fallen, and they pushed on. Another volley from our guns,
+and the dead and wounded encumbered the progress of the living. A
+shower of stones and timbers gave us the light, and they withdrew
+with savage yells to open the siege once more. Only one of our men
+had been wounded,--he by an arrow from a blowpipe.
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+All that night we kept watch. The next morning we were once more
+attacked, but successfully defended ourselves with boulders and our
+cutlasses. Yet one swarthy pirate succeeded in catching the leg of
+the remaining native soldier and bearing him away with them. With
+cessation of hostilities, we searched the top of the island for food
+and water. At one side of the tableland there was a break in its
+surface and a bench of some dozen acres lay perhaps twenty feet below
+our retreat. We cautiously worked our way down to this portion and
+there to our delight found a number of fan-shaped traveller's palms
+and monkey-cups full of sweet water, which with two wild sago palms
+we calculated would keep us alive a few days at all events.
+
+We were much encouraged at this discovery, and that night collected
+a lot of brush from the lower plain and lit a big fire on the
+most exposed part of the rocks. We did not care if it brought a
+thousand more pirates as long as it attracted the attention of a
+passing ship. Two good nine-pounders would soon send our foes in all
+directions. We relieved each other in watching during the night, and
+by sunrise we were all completely worn out. The third day was one of
+weariness and thirst under the burning rays of the tropical sun. That
+day we ate the last of our ship biscuit and were reduced to a few
+drops of water each. Starvation was staring us in the face. There
+was but one alternative, and that was to descend and make a fight
+for our boat on the beach. The bo's'n volunteered with three men to
+descend the defile and reconnoitre. Armed only with their cutlasses
+and a short axe, they worked their way carefully down in the shadow
+of the rocks, while we kept watch above.
+
+All was quiet for a time; then there arose a tumult of cries, oaths,
+and yells. The captain gave the order, and pell-mell down the rift
+we clambered, some dropping their muskets in their hurried descent,
+one of which exploded in its fall. The bo's'n had found the beach
+and our boat guarded by six pirates, who were asleep. Four of these
+they succeeded in throttling. We pushed the boat into the surf,
+expecting every moment to see one of the praus glide around the
+projecting reef that separated the two inlets. We could plainly
+hear their cries and yells as they discovered our escape, and with
+a "heigh-ho-heigh!" our long-boat shot out into the placid ocean,
+sending up a shower of phosphorescent bubbles. We bent our backs to
+the oars as only a question of life or death can make one. With each
+stroke the boat seemed almost to lift itself out of the water. Almost
+at the same time a long dark line, filled with moving objects, dashed
+out from the shadow of the cliffs, hardly a hundred yards away.
+
+It was a glorious race over the dim waters of that tropical sea. I
+as a boy could not realize what capture meant at the hands of our
+cruel pursuers. My heart beat high, and I felt equal to a dozen
+Illanums. My thoughts travelled back to New England in the midst of
+the excitement. I saw myself before the open arch fire in a low-roofed
+old house, that for a century had withstood the fiercest gales on the
+old Maine coast, and from whose doors had gone forth three generations
+of sea-captains. I saw myself on a winter night relating this very
+story of adventure to an old gray-haired, bronzed-faced father, and
+a mother whose parting kiss still lingered on my lips, to my younger
+brother, and sister. I could feel their undisguised admiration as I
+told of my fight with pirates in the Bornean sea. It is wonderful how
+the mind will travel. Yet with my thoughts in Maine, I saw and felt
+that the Illanums were gradually gaining on us. Our men were weary
+and feeble from two days' fasting, while the pirates were strong,
+and thirsting for our blood.
+
+The captain kept glancing first at the enemy and then at a musket
+that lay near him. He longed to use it, but not a man could be spared
+from the oars. Hand over hand they gained on us. Turning his eyes on
+me as I sat in the bow, the captain said, while he bent his sinewy
+back to the oar, "Jack, are you a good shot?"
+
+I stammered, "I can try, sir."
+
+"Very well, get the musket there in the bow.  It is loaded.  Take good
+aim and shoot that big fellow in the stern. If you hit him, I'll make
+you master of a ship some day."
+
+Tremblingly I raised the heavy musket as directed. The boat was
+unsteady, I hardly expected to hit the chief, but aimed low, hoping
+to hit one of the rowers at least. I aimed, closed my eyes, and
+fired. With the report of the musket the tall leader sprang into the
+air and then fell head fore-most amid his rowers. I could just detect
+the gleam of the moonlight on the jewelled handle of his kris as it
+sank into the waters. I had hit my man. The sailors sent up a hearty
+American cheer and a tiger, as they saw the prau come to a standstill.
+
+Our boat sprang away into the darkness. We did not cease rowing until
+dawn,--then we lay back on our oars and stretched our tired backs
+and arms. I had taken my place at the oar during the night.
+
+Away out on the northern horizon we saw a black speck; on the southern
+horizon another. The captain's glass revealed one to be the pirate
+prau with all sails set, for a wind had come up with the dawn. The
+other we welcomed with a cheer, for it was the Bangor. Enfeebled
+and nearly famishing, we headed toward it and rowed for life. How we
+regretted having left our sails on the island. The prau had sighted
+us and was bearing down in full pursuit; we soon could distinguish
+its wide-spreading, rakish sails almost touching the water as it
+sped on. Then we made out the naked forms of the Illanums hanging
+to the ropes, far out over the water, and then we could hear their
+blood-curdling yell. It was too late; their yell was one of baffled
+rage. It was answered by the deep bass tones of the swivel on board the
+Bangor sending a ball skimming along over the waters, which, although
+it went wide of its mark, caused the natives on the ropes to throw
+themselves bodily across the prau, taking the great sail with them.
+
+In another instant the red sail, the long, keen, black shell, the
+naked forms of the fierce Illanums, were mixed in one undefinable
+blot on the distant horizon.
+
+And that was the skipper's yarn.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of the Malayan Coast, by Rounsevelle Wildman
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #27784 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27784)