Raffles was overjoyed in May when Sophia gave birth to Stamford Marsden, their second son. He called the child Marco Polo, because he joked that Stamford Marsden would follow in the footsteps of the great explorer. He was disappointed but relieved to hear from Hastings in June that the although the Court of Directors had expressed their displeasure at Raffles for having exceeded his instructions, they were not at this point in time prepared to disavow his actions in Singapore and recall him. However, his spirits were lifted when he received a letter from Farquhar advising him the volume of trade in Singapore already exceeded that of Batavia, and that the Dutch were furious about that!
Then one evening some months later, as he sat on the verandah at the Hill of Mists, he read a dispatch that he had just received from the Chairman of the East India Company, which read:
I consider the possession of Singapore, and the occupancy of the place, to be very important to the British interests; and I heartily wish that it may be found consistent with the rights of the two nations that Great Britain may keep possession of it. I think it is remarkably well situated to become a commercial emporium of the seas. I have no doubt that it will very soon rise to great magnitude and importance; and if I may be permitted to allude to the conduct of any individual on this subject, I must say that I think the whole of the proceedings of Sir T. S. Raffles must have been marked with great intelligence and great zeal for the interests of his county.
Raffles leapt up and shouted out for joy. When Sophia ran to see what was happening, he lifted her up and danced her though the air, kissing her repeatedly as he gasped out his good news.
‘I’m vindicated at last! The Company has approved Singapore! A commercial emporium of the seas, they say!’
‘Well done, my love,’ Sophia said when he eventually set her down. ‘I know how much this means to you. I really do.’
‘Let’s have a celebration!’ Raffles exclaimed. ‘Friends, family, animals and guests!’
Sophia’s brother, William Hull, and her brother-in-law, Harry Auber, joined them for dinner, along with the children and their nurse, Mrs Grimes. Raffles had recently been presented with an orang utan by one of the local Malay chiefs, and the children delighted in dressing him up. He came to the table dressed in a dinner jacket that Raffles had outgrown, with a top hat perched upon his head. He sat at the end of the table and ate his rice like any Christian gentleman, as William put it.
‘The Malays call him a wild man[1],’ said Raffles, ‘but I’ve seen many less civilized gentlemen in my travels. Let’s drink a toast to our success.’
Champagne was served to the ladies, gentlemen, the orang utan and the bear cub that the children had raised. The little brown cub, which was seated between Leopold and Charlotte, put down the mango he had been eating and accepted a bowl of champagne with a huge grin.
‘Why can’t we have some too?’ chorused the children, looking on in envy.
‘You’re too young for human animals,’ Sophia responded with a smile.
As they raised their glasses for a toast, their blue mountain parrot croaked out a shrill ‘hip, hip, hurray!’ and everyone laughed. The two tame tiger cubs padded around the table, trying to see what was going on, then rolled over and wrestled with each other on the floor.
Raffles looked up at the silver stars scattered like hard diamonds against the black velvet sky. He savoured the light evening breeze on his face, as the whirring of the crickets roared in his ears like primeval applause.
‘These are magical nights,’ he said to Sophia. ‘I can’t imagine I’d be happier if I were a gentleman at court. We are so lucky. We have three beautiful and healthy children, and family and friends that would be the envy of anyone. We must be the happiest couple in whole wide world.’
Raffles closed his eyes and smiled in contentment, but then his happiness evaporated. He felt suddenly chilled, as if––suddenly remembering the old saying––someone had walked over his grave.
‘We should not be so complacent,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘Remember what the old Greek said. Call no man happy ’till he’s dead.’
‘Don’t be such a stuffed shirt, Stamford,’ Sophia replied. ‘In any case, he said call no man happy ’till he’s dead. He didn’t say anything about women!’
Raffles laughed, and his laughter seemed to lift the chill from his heart.
When the food was cleared away and the children sent to bed, Raffles invited William and Harry to join him for brandy and cigars, to discuss the latest developments in Singapore.
The orang utan, which had followed the children to wave them goodnight, sloped back to the table, and took a seat beside them. He reached over and grasped the bottle of brandy, from which he took a hearty swig.
‘Well I’ll be damned,’ said William, handing the hairy gentleman a lit cigar.
The hairy gentleman took the cigar and puffed on it contentedly, as he leaned back in his chair in imitation of his fellows.
Raffles also leaned back in his chair, and reflected once again on his own contentment. Sophia had been right.
Eight months later she gave birth to their second daughter, Ella Sophia. Two boys, two girls, and an orang utan!