Later that month, Farquhar received two new visitors at the residency, who followed each other in quick succession. Both had come from Bencoolen. One was Captain Robert Otho Travers, who had the audacity to inform Farquhar that he could now take his well-deserved leave and return to Scotland, since Sir Stamford Raffles had sent him to take over his duties as Resident of Singapore. Major Farquhar told Travers he would do no such thing. He had just received news that the Marquis of Hastings had appointed him to the rank of colonel for his service as resident and military commandant of Singapore, and he had no intention in resigning his position until he had seen the settlement properly established. Although Travers carried a letter of authorization from Raffles, he did not make an issue of it, and took ship for India shortly after.
The other visitor was not so easy to deal with, nor so easily to be rid of. This was Captain William Flint,[1] who bore a letter from Raffles confirming his official appointment as Harbour Master of Singapore. Farquhar had met Flint nine years before, during Lord Hasting’s campaign that liberated Java from the Dutch. He did not like the man. Flint was tall and fat, with a round baby face and a small, very thin mouth, which gave the impression that he was continually sulking––as he probably was, thought Farquhar. Flint had long sideburns that were carefully curled down the sides of his face, which made him look like he had just left his barber. He was dressed in full naval uniform, although he had resigned his commission in the navy. Another pompous fool, thought Farquhar.
But he was also Raffles’ brother-in-law. Flint had married Raffles’ favourite sister, Mary Anne, and she and their son, Charles, had come to join him in Singapore, so Farquhar could not ignore this appointment. His own son-in-law, Francis Bernard, was presently acting harbour master, but Raffles had made it clear the previous year that his appointment was only temporary. Ah well, thought Farquhar, I’ll just have to find something else for Francis to do.
Captain Flint demanded he be given the piece of land just behind the battery at South Point on the western bank of the river, between the river and the sea, where he planned to build a house and office from which to direct harbour operations. Aye, thought Farquhar, Raffles has picked you the best piece of land on the western bank of the river, in one of the few areas that were not flooded at high tide; the Chinese had of course taken the rest. One of these days he was going to tell these stuck-up captains what to do with their demands, but he held his tongue, and consoled himself with the thought that Methven would be driven to distraction by Flint’s house on the other side of the river, which was sure to be at least as grand as his own.
* * *
Lee Yip Lee lay exhausted on the packed earth floor of the bamboo and attap hut that he shared with the other plantation workers. They had been working since the day they had landed, and all for three dollars a month to pay their passage fee. Picking and beating the gambier was backbreaking work, and Lee Yip’s muscles were aching. He was constantly hungry. They were only given enough to keep them alive and fit enough to work; porridge in the morning and some rice at night, with a few vegetables or bits of fish if they were lucky. So much for the rich life in Singapore!
Lee was tempted to accept the opium that the headman of his plantation offered them on credit, which he said would help to ease the physical pain of their labours. But Lee declined, because he knew that if he did that he would be enslaved to the plantation and the opium until the day he died. He was determined to stick it out, but few of his fellow workers were so resolute.
One evening after work the headman came to visit Lee, and spoke to him in Hokkien.
‘Good evening, Lee Yip Lee. I have some good news for you. In a few days’ time, I will take you to a meeting of the Ghee Hin kongsi.’[2][3]
‘Where will this meeting take place, and who else will be going?’ Lee replied cautiously. He knew of the Ghee Hin, which had branches in his native province of Fukien, and wondered how they had organized so quickly in Singapore.
‘It will take place in a secret place in the jungle, and your fellow Hokkiens will join us. Also some Cantonese and Teochow. Our branch was formed by members who journeyed down from Penang when they heard of the foundation of the new settlement.’
‘But what about the initiation fee?’ Lee replied. He knew the Ghee Hin always charged a fee.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ the headman responded. ‘Your fee will be paid by your employer, Tan Chee Soon, who is one of the leaders of the society.’
On credit, of course, Lee thought to himself, but said nothing. He was not sure that he wanted to pledge himself to the Ghee Hin, but he also knew that one day he might need their protection and support, so he agreed to come to the meeting.
‘You must not breathe a word of this until you are a member of the Ghee Hin,’ the headman warned him sternly. ‘Swear it!’
‘I swear it,’ Lee responded immediately.
The headman then left him and made his approach to other workers, all of who indicated their agreement. Except for Ho Chew Teck, who cursed the society at the first mention of its name.
‘Phah!’ he exclaimed, and spat on the red earth. ‘They’ll take your money but you’ll see nothing for it, like those cheating whores they bring to us. I’m keeping my money. I’m not going to give it to a bunch of gangsters who call themselves the “rise of righteousness”. More like the descent of devils, I say!’
He stormed off and went into his hut to smoke an opium pipe. He did not mention that his brother had been a member of the Ghee Hin in Fukien, who had been executed by the authorities after being betrayed by a fellow society member. He saw no need to mention it. He did not care what they thought.
In southern China, these brotherhoods or associations were known as huis or tongs. They generally functioned as mutual aid societies for different family, clan and dialect groups, as well as providing funds and manpower to support peasant rebellions against the Manchu. They were rooted in traditional village life, which was itself organized into largely independent enclaves based upon family, clan or dialect group. They provided members with loans, shared resources such as oxen, and contributed to the celebration of births and marriages, and the proper mourning of the deceased. Their members were generally poor, lower class males.
In Singapore and other settlements in the Nanyang, they were known as kongsis, and likewise functioned as mutual aid societies for their members. The kongsis provided security, jobs and loans for sinkeh or ‘new arrivals’: they looked after them if they we sick, and buried them if they died. They protected members who ran foul of the law, providing money for their defense, bribing officials, and threatening witnesses. In return, members were expected to support and fight for the interests of the kongsi, which in Singapore extended to extortion, prostitution, coolie brokering, robbery, kidnapping and murder. Members were sworn to absolute secrecy and loyalty to the kongsi. Betrayal meant death.
The Ghee Hin kongsi was the earliest and most powerful secret society founded in Singapore, although it was later challenged by rival societies such as the Ghee Hok, the Kwan Teck and the Choo Soo Khong. Many of its original members were Hokkien from Fukien and Guangdong provinces, from which most of its leaders were drawn, but it also included members from other dialect groups, such as Cantonese and Hainanese. Many of the owners of the pepper and gambier plantations were members of the Ghee Hin, as were many of those who controlled the coolie trade. ↵