1832
Ronnie and Sarah walked down to the small jetty that ran out from the beach in front of their house. Their son Duncan, six years old, ran on ahead; their daughter Annie, four years old, struggled to keep up. She tripped over a piece of driftwood and sprawled in the sand, but her cousin Lizzie helped her up and the two girls hurried off in pursuit of Duncan. As he watched Duncan running ahead, Ronnie remembered with a tinge of sadness his first son Malcolm, who had died of a fever at age two. He was buried in the Christian cemetery behind Government Hill. He would have been running with the others today––all children seemed to have a natural love of the sea.
It was a Saturday in late September, and they were waiting for the longboat from Ronnie’s Highland Lassie, which was anchored in the roads, while the lighters offloaded its cargo of cottons and opium. He had promised the children that he would take them to see the Bugis fleet, which had arrived a week before at Sandy Point, close by the Bugis Village and Kampong Glam.
Ronnie and Sarah waited with Sarah’s sister Rosemarie and her husband John Hancock, a Company writer, who were down visiting from Penang.
‘Are ye still firm in your decision, John,’ Ronnie asked his brother-in-law, ‘or are ye still thinking it over?’
‘As firm as we were last night, Ronnie. We talked it over again before we went to bed, but not for long. It seems clear to us that Singapore has a much more promising future than Penang, and we would love to move. That is, if your generous offer still stands.’
‘Of course it does,’ Ronnie assured him, ‘we can aye do wi’ a good man tae help us wi’ our books.’
The previous evening over dinner, John Hancock had told them that they expected to be returning to England soon, since he had been told that the Governor was planning a new round of administrative economies. When Sarah became visibly upset at the thought of her sister leaving, Ronnie had suggested that John could join their company in Singapore if he did not want to return to England, and his father and Sarah had enthusiastically endorsed his suggestion.
John and Rosemarie agreed that they did not want to leave, and also that they would much prefer to live in Singapore than Penang. So they had accepted Ronnie’s offer with warm gratitude. John had said he would give his notice to the Company as soon as they returned to Penang at the end of the month. Given the pressure from Calcutta to reduce expenditures, he was sure it would be readily accepted––he might even be able to reduce the normally required notice period. Either way, they would sell up their home and come down to Singapore as soon as they could manage.
‘So it’s decided then,’ Ronnie had said, when he proposed a toast to their future health and happiness in Singapore. ‘Ye can stay wi’ us until ye get your own place–we certainly hae plenty room.’
Ronnie looked through his telescope and saw that Willie Fraser was waving from the distance; the longboat was weaving towards them through the maze of native craft and square-riggers. He handed his telescope to his son, who loved to peer through it, and soon trained it on the ships anchored in the roads.
‘Look, father!’ he cried, ‘an East Indiaman coming in past St. John’s Island.’
‘So it is,’ Ronnie replied. Even at this distance, there was no mistaking the distinctive black hull and yellow gun-ports. ‘See any pirates?’ he joked.
‘I suppose I do, although it’s hard to tell unless they are actually pirating, father.’
That’s true enough, thought Ronnie––it was half the battle.
As they waited on the beach, Ronnie looked back and admired his new house on Beach Road. He and his father had done very well over the past twelve years, and had made a small fortune through their trade with India and China. They bought birds’ nests and sharks’ fins from the local traders, and transported them to Canton, where they picked up tea and silk; they brought woolens and iron from England, and opium––their most lucrative commodity––from India, which they sold in Singapore and Canton. They had a large godown on Boat Quay that backed onto Commercial Square. They had lived above the godown in the early years, but had since moved into the Palladian mansion that shimmered in the bright sunlight behind them.
The house was white with dark green shutters, with a red tile roof that projected outwards to form deep eaves, providing shelter from the sun, and homes for the families of swallows and swifts that flitted across the sky as the sun set in the early evening. The house was fronted on Beach Road by moulded classical columns, and its tall doors and windows opened on to a wide green verandah that ran all the way round the house, about six feet above the ground. The lower part of the building was partly hidden by the lush green shrubbery that ran around it and into the garden beyond. A large portico covered the carriageway and a flight of stairs led up to the main hallway. Ronnie, who had been born in a mean cottage in Ardersier, could hardly believe he owned such a house, and his Presbyterian upbringing made him feel a little guilty about it. Sarah had no such misgivings, although she thought the house was a little pretentious. Old John Simpson thought it was just grand.
Like many of the mansions along Beach Road, Ronnie’s house was the work of George Coleman, the Irish architect who had worked with Raffles’ Town Planning Committee. Since then Coleman had made his distinctive mark on the architectural landscape of Singapore.[1]
Coleman had been appointed superintendent of public works, overseer of convict labor, and land surveyor in 1830. He had continued with land reclamation, employing convicts to carry the street sweepings and rubbish from the town to the higher reaches of the Singapore River, and to the mangrove swamps that bordered the Rochor River. Last year he had employed over two hundred convicts to drain twenty-eight acres of land and to lay down roads in and around Kampong Glam, and already about a fifth of the area was taken up by good upper-roomed houses. Coleman also employed the convicts to cut timber and make bricks, and to labour in the quarries at Pulau Ubin, using the stone they cut in the construction of private houses and public buildings. Coleman formed a good relationship with the convicts who worked for him. He was fluent in Hindustani, Tamil and Malay, and treated his workforce like ordinary craftsmen and labourers rather than convicts. In consequence, he got far more useful work out of them than most other superintendents of convicts in other Eastern ports and cities.
Coleman had built most of the mansions along Beach Road, which came to be known as Yi Shap Kan,[2] including Ronnie’s own home. There was one feature of their house that Ronnie and Sarah loved more than anything else. The brick walls had a stucco finish, and were plastered with white Madras Chunam, which was a mixture of shell lime beaten with egg whites and course sugar into a thick paste, and then blended with water in which the husks of coconuts had been soaked. The walls of their house had been plastered with the Chunam, and then polished to a smooth and glossy finish with round stones. This finish was a distinctive feature of many of Coleman’s buildings––it was more durable than ordinary plaster in the tropical climate, and much cheaper to produce. Ronnie had paid extra to have the whole house dusted with soapstone, and the result was quite spectacular. The walls shimmered in the sunlight of the day, and sparkled in the moonlight like a fairy castle. It was a magical effect, and a far cry from the dark stone castles of Ronnie’s native Scotland.
Ronnie wished Coleman had done something with the Singapore Institution, that doubtful monument to Raffles’ vision for the education of the native peoples and Company servants. The money had run out before it was completed, and the building now lay in ruins at the head of the Bas Basah Stream––an eyesore that was one of the first sights to greet visitors arriving in Singapore.
Fraser arrived with the longboat and they went out on to the jetty to board. As they were rowed towards the Bugis fleet, Ronnie kept an eye on the children, who seemed intent on tumbling out of the boat at the first opportunity.
‘Quite a sight, isn’t it,’ said Fraser, as they drew close.
‘A bit like a floating Covent Garden,’ Sarah replied. ‘Let’s go see what they’ve got.’
There were about two hundred square-sailed Bugis padewakang anchored at the mouth of the Rochor River, with a crew of about thirty men on each. They had come from the Celebes, and from Bali and South Borneo. Their two-masted craft were like small schooners, with an attap–roofed structure in the centre or rear, which looked like a small house, and in which they displayed their merchandise. They brought coffee, sarongs, sandalwood, tortoiseshell, ebony, shark fins, birds’ nests, rattan, beeswax, tin, gold dust, and a host of other products from the archipelago. The smell of coffee and spices filled the air as they toured the great floating market.
‘Dragon’s blood, Daddy!’ shouted Duncan in excitement. ‘Where do the dragon’s live?’
‘In your imagination only, I’m afraid,’ Ronnie replied. ‘It’s just the Malay name for tree resin.’
The Bugis sailors were dark-skinned and fearsome to behold, for they were all heavily armed, but they went peaceably about their trade, as did their countrymen who had settled on the eastern shore of the mouth of the Rochor River. Sarah and Rosemarie haggled for exquisitely embroidered sarongs, while Ronnie bought coffee for himself, and shark’s fins, bird’s nests, and tortoiseshell for the company, which he arranged to be transported to their godown. He also bought a magnificent red, white and green parrot for Duncan, after his son had pointed out that the bird had the same colours as his house.
They all had great fun bargaining with the Bugis traders, offering insultingly low amounts to match their grossly inflated prices, until they agreed upon a more reasonable price somewhere in between. Sarah had become a master of the art over the years, but Ronnie hated it––it went against his straight-talking Highland grain. But he enjoyed the excursion with his family, and settled back contentedly in the longboat as they prepared to return home. He turned his telescope to scan the shoreline, and frowned at what he saw.
Despite Raffles’ prohibition of slavery, and despite the reaffirmation of his policy by later residents, it was quite clear that the Bugis were still selling slaves. They could be seen negotiating with Chinese and Arab merchants, who led off the unfortunate men, women and children that were placed in their custody. Of course it was no longer called slave trading, rather bonded or indentured labour, but it amounted to much the same thing.
The same was true of the Malay pirates, who could also be seen openly displaying their spoils upon the beach, and buying and selling arms. There had been continuous trouble from them over the past ten years, but again little had been done. Chinese and European and native trading vessels were regularly attacked on their passage to Singapore, and eight years ago pirates had attacked the Dutch schooner Anna as she left Singapore for Batavia, in full view of the lookout at Fort Fullerton at the western mouth of the river, and the men at the signaling station on St. John’s island. The pirates had come on board disguised as pilgrims returning from Mecca, and had attacked the crew in the roads.
Farquhar had sent out an armed merchantman in the early days, and a few years ago a gunboat had been sent out fitted with native rigging, but neither had made much of an impression. No one seemed willing to do what was necessary, which was to punish the pirates in their own coin, as the Americans had done the previous year. Malay pirates had slaughtered the officers and crew of the American brig the Friendship, while she had been loading a cargo of pepper at Kuala Batu, on the west coast of Sumatra––they had come aboard disguised as villagers offering to help load the cargo. Although the local chiefs had denied any knowledge of their action, the US frigate Potomac had returned and burned the town to the ground, leaving three hundred souls dead. Why the hell could the great British Navy not do the same? They had seen the French and Spanish off at Trafalgar, and the local pirates ought to be child’s play compared to the carnage of that day.
Yet with the reduced administrative service and the legal quagmire over the past eight years,[3] Ronnie knew that nobody was going to do anything about it anytime soon.
Despite these problems, the commercial base of Singapore had expanded as dramatically as Ronnie had hoped and believed it would. He had just heard from Kenneth Murchison, the resident councillor, that the population now exceeded sixteen thousand, and he knew that the tonnage passing through the port had long surpassed that of Penang, Malacca and the establishments of the Dutch East Indies. Ah well, he thought to himself, there were always naysayers who claimed that the bubble was about to burst––but he thought that few would be found in the godowns on Boat Quay, in the busy shop houses beyond, in the brick and lime kilns to the east and west, in the market gardens and paddy fields beyond Bukit Selegie, or on the gambier and pepper plantations in the interior of the island.
Ronnie looked around for any sign of his nemesis, Mr Harry Purser, gunrunner and duelist. He had not come across him these last ten years, although he had heard reports of him from captains returning from ports in the archipelago, and from China and Siam. He had once heard that Purser had been staying at John Francis’s Billiard Room and Refreshment Hall in Commercial Square, but there had been no sign of the man when he visited and questioned John Francis about him. There was no one registered in his name, which did not really surprise him. The only man who loosely fitted his description had long black hair, and had already left. Ronnie knew that he would get no help from the law, for the man who had sworn to kill him had committed no crime that would be recognized in a Singapore court of law. So it was between them if they ever met.
* * *
As Ronnie looked towards the shore, Musa bin Hassan looked out towards the Bugis fleet. He had walked along the beach to view the sleek padewakang, whose craftsmanship he greatly admired. He was about to leave when he noticed Abdullah bin Ahmad standing with a group of heavily armed men, laughing and joking together, and lounging against the hulls of the craft that were beached upon the sand. He had no doubt that they were pirates, or that Abdullah worked for Daing Ibrahim, the son of the Abdul Rahman, the former Temenggong of Singapore,[4] who had taken over as leader of his father’s remaining followers at Telok Blangah.
Musa had never married. He had felt duty bound to do so, but found he could not muster the strength of will to do so after Abdullah had married Rashidah binti Ali. He and his father argued about it often, and at one point his father threatened to throw him out of his house if he did not marry. But he did not do so for three reasons. He could see how much Musa loved the girl, and knew his pleas and threats were useless to persuade him. He had two other sons whose wives had blessed him with two grandsons and three granddaughters, with whom he was well pleased. And he could not afford to lose his youngest son, for Musa was by far and away the most skilled boat builder he had even known. All his sons worked in their father’s boatyard, but Musa’s craft was beyond compare. So Musa’s father had resigned himself to the situation; he supposed it was the will of God, and God be praised for the gift He had bestowed upon his son.
Musa did not envy Abdullah, for all his wealth and position. He had married Rashidah, but she had borne him no children. Abdullah had blamed the failure on her barrenness, but everyone knew that the fault really lay with him, for his second and third wives had both remained childless. Abdullah knew this also, at least deep in his heart, and it made him a bitter man; but he continued to blame them for it, and refused their regular requests to adopt a child, or to grant them a divorce. He no longer cared for any of them, but wanted to punish them by keeping them in his power.
Musa knew that Abdullah would never divorce Rashidah, because Abdullah had gone out of his way to tell him. Musa thought he kept her merely to spite him, even though he spited himself into the bargain, for it brought Abdullah no pleasure––only a resentful heart. Musa’s own heart still burned for Rashidah. The light-footed young girl had now grown to a beautiful young woman, although she was rarely seen in public, and then always covered from the sight of men. When Musa imagined what his life would have been like if it had been written in the Book Of Life that he was to marry her, he experienced great happiness and great sadness. But it was the way of the world that God in his wisdom had ordained, and God be praised for his wisdom and mercy.
When he departed, the East India Company united Singapore with Penang and Malacca to form the Presidency of the Straits Settlements. Penang became the official seat of the new Governor Robert Fullerton, with Resident Councillors appointed to each of the three settlements. In the early years the military and civilian administration had been expanded, but when the Straits Settlements began to accumulate a large fiscal deficit, both had been drastically reduced. The Charter of Justice that Crawfurd had requested had been granted in 1926, but it proved useless for Singapore, since the Court Recorder refused to come down from Penang. Governor Fullerton had closed the courts in 1830, ruling that nobody had the authority to administer them. They had only reopened that year, when Robert Ibbetson had become Governor. ↵