When they returned from their visit to the Bugis fleet, the Simpsons and the Hancocks changed into evening dress, and prepared to enter the carriage that would take them to the dinner party at the home of Dr Jose d’Almeida,[1] which was the last of the line of twenty sparkling white mansions than ran eastwards along the beach towards Kampong Glam.
Jose d’Almeida and his wife Rosalia were famous for the large dinner parties that they regularly held, and their home was one of the centres of Singapore’s social life. The d’Almeidas and their many children were talented musicians, and most of their dinner parties were preceded by accomplished renderings of Mozart, Brahms, and their favourite Portuguese composer Juan Crisostomo de Arriaga, who had died tragically six years earlier at the age of nineteen. When Signor Masoni had played the first violin concert in Singapore, he had played in the d’Almeida’s sitting room, and it had been a night to remember.
John Simpson came out to join them in the carriage. Sarah though he looked very dashing in his black frockcoat and britches, with his silver buckles and silver hair. The children clambered into the carriage behind them to say goodbye and goodnight to their parents, since they would be long in their beds by the time they all returned––the d’Almeida’s parties always went on late into the night.
‘Goodnight mama! Goodnight papa! Goodnight Grandpapa John! Grandpapa John was the name the children had taken to calling their grandfather.
Mrs Stables, the spinster that John Simpson had brought out from Ardersier to look after the children, hurried them back into the house, and Ronnie signalled to the Indian syce to drive on. He though it ridiculous to take a carriage for a journey that would last all of five minutes, but his father had insisted that they must do so to keep up appearances. With such indulgence, he thought it small wonder that he was a little tight in his neatly pressed white trousers and waistcoat, and black coat. It would be good to be back at sea next week, he thought; he was taking a cargo of opium up to Canton, and would go on to Manila to bring back a shipment of sandalwood. A few weeks before the mast would soon get him back in trim again. He would miss Sarah and the children, but he was looking forward to having John and Rosemarie and young Lizzie come and stay with them after he returned. It would be a full house, but they had plenty of room to spare––Coleman did not build small! And God knows they could do with a good accountant. He looked across at Sarah, who smiled back at him. She wore a blue silk evening gown, with a string of pearls from the Sulu islands. She looked as beautiful as the day he had met her, and they were both still very much in love.
The d’Almeidas greeted them at the door, where the men were invited to exchange their black coats for white dinner jackets, which they had conveniently brought themselves, knowing the custom. The party began with a musical concert, followed by the usual twelve-course dinner with wine, beer and champagne.
When he judged they were suitably full of good cheer, Reverend Darrock, the residency Chaplain, appealed to John and Ronnie Simpson and Alexander Johnston for a contribution to the building fund for the new church.
‘I’m afraid the old Mission Chapel will no longer suffice. Plank and attap was good enough in the old days, but we need a more substantial structure of brick and mortar. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Mr Bonham has granted the Armenians a piece of land between the Botanical Gardens and Hill Street, and Mr Coleman has been appointed architect and engineer for the new church. Is that not right Mr Coleman?’
George Coleman, who was sitting between Sarah and Ronnie, nodded his assent, and told them he was looking forward to working on it.
‘But how did they manage to raise money for a church?’ John Simpson asked Reverend Darrock. ‘There canna be more than twa dozen o’ them in the town.’
‘Thirty-five, I believe, at the last count. But they’ve been here since day one–– Aristarchus Moses came the year the settlement was founded. Been in business in the archipelago—and India––for years, and like the Peranakans, they brought their families with them. Tight-knit little community, and fiercely proud of the fact that Armenia was the first country to adopt Christianity as its official religion, at the beginning of the fourth century, I believe. They built a temporary Gregorian chapel a few years ago, and they now have a resident priest, the Reverend Gregory Johannes, a very good fellow. The ten leading families donated the initial money from their businesses––which are thriving, I can tell you––and they’ve raised money from the Armenian communities in India, Java and the Malayan peninsula.
Now given their history, I don’t begrudge Mr Coleman building them the first proper Christian church in Singapore. But I would say to you gentlemen that we want the next one to serve the larger Protestant community, so I’m asking if you would be so kind as to pledge something to our building fund. We hope to raise enough funds so we can contract with Mr Coleman to have him build our own church—for a finer architect you won’t find in this town.’
‘Agreed,’ said Alexander Johnston, although he had not personally contracted with Coleman to build himself a fine mansion along the beach like the other merchants, preferring to live above his godown on Boat Quay. ‘You can count me in for five hundred dollars, and five hundred more if you need it.’
John and Ronnie Simpson agreed to contribute five hundred dollars, as did Dr Montgomerie and George Coleman, even though he was Irish and Catholic.
After dinner, while the small orchestra was being set up and the ballroom prepared for dancing, Sarah returned from the powder room to find Ronnie standing talking with some of the Malacca merchants, and sharing an opium pipe with Chua Chong Long.
‘Do you really think you should be doing that?’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t want you to end up like those poor souls in Chinatown.’
‘Oh, I dinna think there’s ony danger o’ that,’ said Dr Montgomerie, who had come to join the small party. ‘He’s a sensible laddie. There’s no more harm from a few puffs on an opium pipe than from a cigar and a good malt whisky at the end of the day. Both take the stiffness out o’ the bones, and are a grand all round tonic.’
‘The rule is everything in moderation,’ Dr Montgomerie concluded, taking another large whisky from the tray offered by the Malay servant.
‘Well, let’s just test that theory, then,’ said Sarah, with a grin. ‘They’ve just announced the first dance is the Gay Gordons. On the floor, Captain!’
As Ronnie went to join Sarah on the dance floor, Dr Montgomerie went out to the verandah, with Alexander Johnston and Naraina Pillai following close behind. Dr Montgomerie looked out over the dark ocean, and listened to the low surf rolling in the distance. A light breeze drifted from the water and cooled his brow.
‘That’s probably it,’ he wondered aloud, as Johnston and Pillai joined him on the verandah.
‘What’s probably it?’ they responded together, laughing.
‘Well, you know, I’ve been wondering why we’ve not been bothered with malaria and other tropical fevers, despite the noxious vapors from the marshlands behind us, and the poisonous miasmas from the river. There’s not been a single case of malaria among the Europeans since the settlement was founded. Really quite remarkable, when you compare it to the charnel houses of Bencoolen and Batavia. It must be this grand breeze that comes up from the sea. Not whit ye would get from the Firth of Forth, of course, but it must be enough to dispel the vapors.’
‘It probably also explains the outbreaks of fever among the Malays at Telok Blangah,’ Montgomerie continued. ‘They’re landlocked behind Pulau Brani and Pulau Blakang Mati, and don’t get the benefit of the sea breezes; and they get stagnant vapors off the mangrove swamps.’
‘Sounds plausible enough,’ Johnson replied, ‘and the Lord preserve us from epidemics. But don’t you have your own plantation out there? How do you manage to protect yourself?’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Montgomerie replied. ‘I’m a great pipe smoker, I am, and there’s nothing better than tobacco smoke to combat foul air. But I pity the poor Malays with their betel nuts––they offer no protection at all.’
‘Just stay away from the opium,’ said Naraina Pillai. ‘Whatever you said to young Mr Simpson, it has ruined the lives of many of my countrymen, and it is an evil thing.’
‘Perhaps you are right,’ said Johnston thoughtfully. ‘But you and I know that opium is what makes this settlement pay.’ The other two men nodded their silent agreement.
* * *
Later that year the Chinese merchants, disgusted with the constant pirate attacks upon their shipping, and frustrated by the failure of the British administration to do anything about it, equipped four large junks with guns and well-armed thirty-man crews. The merchants offered a bounty of two hundred dollars for every pirate vessel they attacked and destroyed, and compensation to the family of any crewmember that was killed in their service.
The brave little fleet set out and attacked some of the smaller pirate vessels that waited to ambush native craft just outside of the harbour. They sank one ship and drove off another, killing many pirates with only the loss of two of their own. Their action shamed the government into equipping two gunboats manned by Malays, which patrolled the waters around Singapore, but made no contact with any pirates. The merchants continued to press the government for concerted action, many complaining that they were unable to purchase opium on credit from Calcutta merchants because of the danger of pirate attacks.