Ronnie and Colonel Farquhar were at the residency discussing Ronnie’s tax assessment when Syed Omar was brought before them and reported the attempted assault. Colonel Farquhar spoke to him in Malay, and advised him to calm himself. Farquhar could not tell who had assaulted him, since Syed Omar was so distressed that he was making little sense.
He said that Syed Yassin had attacked him, but the man was locked in jail, so he must be mistaken about that. But it was clear that an assault had taken place at Syed Omar’s house, so Farquhar determined to go there right away.
Farquhar told Syed Omar not to worry, and to stay at the residency where he would be safe until things were sorted out. He sent one of his guards to summon Captain Davis from the military cantonment, to meet him with a company of sepoys at the home of Syed Omar. Colonel Farquhar snatched up his walking stick, and he and Ronnie set off at a brisk pace towards the house of Syed Omar, carrying two lighted torches. On the way they met Munshi Abdullah, who was walking ahead of them. Farquhar asked him where he was going.
‘I go to the house of Mr John Morgan, Tuan Farquhar, to teach him some more words of Malay. He is a good student.’
‘I would advise against it, Abdullah,’ Farquhar replied. ‘We have a man running amok close by. Better to stay with us in the meantime.’ Abdullah nodded his agreement and followed Farquhar and Ronnie toward Syed Omar’s house.
* * *
Mehmood was standing in the darkness at the outer gate when he heard the commotion. He turned round to see Syed Yassin running out of the house, and went forward to meet him. But why was he running? By the time Mehmood saw the kris in the gloom of the garden it was too late. Syed Yassin drove the blade up through his throat and into the back of his brain. The gloom of the garden suddenly exploded in a flash of brilliant light, then faded to the darkness of death, as the blood gushed from his throat and he fell backwards to the ground.
Syed Yassin dragged his body behind a sago hedge, and looked around to make sure nobody had seen him. Just when he thought he was safe, he suddenly noticed Colonel Farquhar and two others coming towards him, their torches spreading a pool of light before them. He ran back to the house to hide.
Captain Davis arrived with six sepoys and met Farquhar and Ronnie as they approached the outer gate. Farquhar ordered them to follow him and search the house for an intruder armed with a kris, who had threatened the life of Syed Omar. They passed by the body of Mehmood bin Nadir, but they did not notice it hidden in the bushes. They searched the house, but there was no one to be found, not even the servants, who had all fled in fear. They reassembled in the courtyard, while the colonel considered what to do next. He was about to order Captain Davis to send for more soldiers and conduct a general search of the town, when his eyes lit upon the balei, and the mangosteen trees surrounding it, which were closely bunched together. I wonder, Farquhar thought to himself. He walked across and began prodding the trees with his stick.
‘Watch out, Colonel!’ Ronnie cried out, seeing a sudden movement in the bushes. But it was too late–Syed Yassin leapt out and drove his kris into Farquhar’s chest. Farquhar staggered back, the blood spreading fast over his white linen shirt. Munshi Abdullah rushed forward and caught him before he fell, as his cane dropped from his hand. Ronnie stepped in front of the colonel and fought with Syed Yassin for possession of the kris. Ronnie managed to wrestle it from his grasp, but not before Syed Yassin had sliced open his left hand. Then Ronnie drew his dirk from his belt with his right hand, and slashed it across Syed Yassin’s face, slicing open his mouth and right cheek, and causing him to stumble backwards. As he did so, the sepoys rushed forward on Captain Davis’s command and stabbed Syed Yassin with their bayonets, in his groin, in his stomach, in his chest and in his eyes. They continued to stab long after the life had gone out of him, until ordered to cease by Captain Davis.
Ronnie bound up his left hand with his handkerchief and helped Abdullah carry Colonel Farquhar across the street to the house of Alexander Guthrie, who sent his servants to alert Dr Montgomerie, Mr Bernard and Sir Stamford Raffles. Captain Davis ordered one of the sepoys to return to the cantonment to bring up more men and three cannon, which he ordered directed towards the temenggong’s compound. Davis was concerned that the attack was the work of one of his Malay followers, perhaps as a prelude to a general uprising, as did a good many of the European and Chinese merchants who had gathered outside Syed Omar’s house to see what was going on––for the temenggong was known to be unhappy about having been ordered to move himself and his followers out to Telok Blangah. Shortly afterwards the sepoys arrived, many only half-dressed, but all armed with muskets and bayonets. The cannon were directed towards the temenggong’s compound as ordered.
At that moment Raffles arrived in his carriage. As he descended, John Morgan came up to him and said:
‘It’s a Malay uprising, Raffles, we’re sure of it. The colonel’s badly wounded, and probably won’t last the night. We have to do something about this quickly. We need to attack them before they attack us––and blast that damned temenggong into his Mohammedan hell.’
‘We will keep a cool head before we do anything, Mr Morgan,’ Raffles replied in a calm voice, ‘but first I must see the colonel.’ He questioned Captain Davis briefly, and told him to have his men stand ready for any action, but warned him not to fire into the temenggong’s compound until he had got to the bottom of the matter. Then he strode across the road to Guthrie’s house. Dr Montgomerie was already there, treating the colonel’s wound.
‘It looks much worse than it probably is, Sir Stamford,’ he said, ‘but I don’t want to take any chances. The colonel’s lost a fair bit of blood, but I’m hoping it’s only a flesh wound … I don’t think any vital organs are damaged. But he needs to rest up until we are sure he is out of the woods. Thank God the man did not strike his heart … he came very close.’
‘Thank God indeed,’ said Raffles, looking visibly relieved. ‘How are you, Colonel?’
‘Och, I’m fine, Raffles,’ Farquhar said, sitting up. ‘Never saw the bugger coming. I suppose he’s dead by now.’
‘As a doornail,’ replied Raffles. ‘I’m glad to see you’re taking this in your stride, Colonel, but you must rest. And I had better go back and find out what’s going on, before things get out of hand.’
‘On ye go, Raffles,’ Farquhar nodded to him. ‘I’ll be fine. And so will Ronnie. Dr Montgomerie will see to us.’
When he returned to Syed Omar’s house, Raffles came across Mr Bernard, who was standing over the body of Mehmood bin Nadir, which had recently been discovered. Bernard identified the body for Raffles, and told him how he had released Syed Yassin from jail, and sent him with Mehmood bin Nadir to Syed Omar’s house, so that he could beg his forgiveness and ask for more time to repay his loan.
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ he said lamely, looking down with sadness at Mehmood’s crumpled body.
‘Did you not search the man in jail?’ Raffles demanded.
‘I’m afraid we did not, Sir Stamford.’ Bernard replied. ‘There didn’t seem any need, since he was a debtor and not a dangerous criminal.’
Raffles gave him a withering look, then raised his hand and knocked Bernard’s hat off his head.
‘If the colonel dies, Bernard, I’ll see you hang for it!’
Then he entered the garden and walked up to the balei, and stood over the body of Syed Yassin. He ordered Captain Davis to disperse the crowd peacefully and then have the sepoys return to the cantonment, bringing with them the cannon that had been directed on the temenggong’s compound. Raffles explained that he had discovered the reason for the attack, and there was no danger of an uprising. He arranged for Major Farquhar to spend the night at Alexander Guthrie’s house, before returning to the residency the next day. He then gave Captain Davis orders to send one of his men to find a blacksmith, and the man returned fifteen minutes later with a Chinese blacksmith and two coolies. Raffles instructed the blacksmith to make an iron cage about the size of a man, and to have it ready by seven the next morning. He picked up a stick and drew out a design in the earth to show the blacksmith exactly what he wanted.
The next day Raffles gave orders that Syed Yassin’s body be paraded through the streets in a buffalo cart, and the gong beaten to announce what he had done. His body was then placed in the iron cage that Raffles had ordered made, and hung from a mast at Tanjong Malang, near Telok Ayer point, where it remained rotting in the sun for the next two weeks. Raffles announced that such would be the fate of anyone who ran amok in Singapore. Their body would be given to the winds.
* * *
Mehmood bin Nadir’s brother and cousins carried his body home, where preparations were made for his funeral. They washed his body, and wrapped it in a white muslin cloth. That night incense was lit around the body of Mehmood bin Nadir, as family and friends came to pray over him.
‘We have come from God and unto him we shall return,’ they recited.
The following morning Ronnie arrived to pay his respects, and handed over some money that had been donated by Colonel Farquhar, Mr Bernard, and Syed Omar to help support the family of Mehmood bin Nadir.
His brother and cousins carried Mehmood on their shoulders to the graveyard. Prayers were said and the open grave was sprinkled with perfume. Then the body of Mehmood bin Nadir was laid in the grave on his right side, with his eyes facing towards Mecca. After the grave was sealed, the Fatiha for the deceased was recited.
That evening the son mourned his father. Adil bin Mehmood was going to work for his uncle on the river, but he made a solemn promise to the Prophet that when he was old enough he would be a policeman like his father.
* * *
Colonel Farquhar paid a visit to Raffles at his bungalow on Bukit Larangan, now known as Government House. His chest was still bandaged from his wound, but he had made a speedy recovery. Raffles inquired after his health, and Farquhar thanked him for his concern. Then he came straight to the point.
‘I really must protest, Sir Stamford,’ he said. ‘You do no good by displaying his body in that cage. Yassin deserved to die, but he didna deserve to be treated like a dog. You cause great offense to the Malays, who consider him a holy man.’
‘Holy man, indeed,’ Raffles scoffed. ‘What you need to understand is that these people need to be led back to civilization, and taught to respect the principles of justice and humanity. Why, they were once monarchs of a great empire … think of the Srivijaya Empire[1] and the ancient rajahs of Singapura. But they have been corrupted by this false Mohammedan religion, which has drained their minds and spirits, and spawned nothing but idleness, despotism and piracy … they have been ruined by this damned robber religion!’
‘I dinna care too much for the sultan and temenggong at times,’ Farquhar retorted, ‘but you would do well to remember that they are the rightful rulers of the settlement we occupy in the name of the Company and the British Government. Seems to me sometimes that we’re the robbers and nae them.’
‘You don’t understand these people, Farquhar,’ Raffles responded angrily, ‘and I’d advise you to drop that insolent tone.’
‘I understand them well enough,’ said Farquhar, slowly, ‘and I’d advise you to release Syed Yassin’s body before we have an uprising on our hands. The Arabs will hate you as much as the Malays. Good morning to you, Sir Stamford.’
Raffles thought to himself that he had had just about enough from Colonel Farquhar. The man was impossible, and he had no vision. But later in the day he issued a proclamation allowing that Yassin’s body could be removed for washing and burial. He cited as his reason the sultan’s request for a pardon from the King of England, but warned that the same fate would befall any other man that ran amok in the town. The following day a party of Malays came to claim his body, which was buried at Tanjong Pagar. Andrew Farquhar, the colonel’s son, who supervised the removal of the body, would never forget the look of pure hatred on their faces.