Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 12, No. 29, August, 1873

TWO PAPERS.—I

"Well, Abdallah, what have you in view that can tempt one to a ramble on such a breezeless morning as this?" was my question of the turbaned exquisite who had just presented himself on the balcony where we sat at sunrise inhaling the fragrant breath of a thousand flowers. We were at Singapore, that little ocean gem at the foot of the Malayan peninsula, where, fair as a pearl, she nestles in the crested coronet of the deep blue sea. The whole island is but twenty-seven miles long, with a width varying from three to twelve; but in no other area of such limited dimensions can the tourist find so much of enchanting beauty and picturesqueness, or such a variety of tropical products, as in this "garden of the East." Without mountains, but with its central peak of Bookit Timá rising about six hundred feet above the sea, the scenery is diversified with richly-wooded hills, evergreen dales, and luxuriant jungle-growth drooping over and reflecting its graceful fringes in many a little babbling brook. The fruits of the island are varied and luscious, the foliage perennial, and its myriads of flowers so gorgeously tinted, so redolent of balmy odors, that one is fairly bewildered with the superabundance of sweets. Of course we were nothing loath to tarry a few weeks on this fairy isle, and we gladly availed ourselves of the opportunity thus afforded to enrich our herbariums and sketchbooks with new specimens by making occasional excursions to the jungles, and now and then a picnic to some of the thirty smaller islands that surround Singapore. But as the foreign tourist in those enervating tropical regions is not slow to acquire the Oriental love of ease and inveterate aversion to fatigue even in pleasure-seeking, we usually left our Mussulman comprador to seek out objects of interest and report to us beforehand, thus saving us from the weariness of many a bootless expedition, and catering to the precise tastes and desires of each of us in the way of adding to our treasures.

On the morning in question Abdallah had just brought in the invariable morning coffee, served in the purest and tiniest of porcelain cups; and while we listlessly sipped the fragrant Mocha he seemed scanning our faces with more than usual interest, evidently expecting just such a question as I had asked. What a picture he was as he stood there in flowing robes and huge turban, with his jet black moustache and bronze-brown complexion, one small hand placed over the heart in token of his absolute devotion to the foreign sahibs, and his lithe, supple form leaning forward in the most obsequious attitude imaginable! His answer was characteristic:

"Well, Madam Sahib, I find much beautiful flower, but not all where lady sahib can go, unless she can ride in sampán. Some roads too small for palanquin, and lady sahib's satin slipper must not be soiled with dust or mud. But I engage one big sampán with six men to pull, and, if the foreign sahibs all please, we make one grand picnic to Pulo Nánas (Pineapple Island) and Pulo Panjan. They can ride first to where boat is waiting, visit Pulo Nánas, take breakfast under orange tree, see much fine fruit trees, and then go to Pulo Panjan, where I gave orders for dinner to be served for the sahibs."

"But pray tell us who is to serve it," laughingly responded one of our party. "Are we to have monkeys or wild squirrels for caterers? It must be one or the other, as I am sure I have been informed that neither of those islands are inhabited by human beings."

"No man there, true, sahib," was our Mussulman's ready rejoinder. "But I send small boat with two men to pull, and two cooks, with rice, fowls, and everything wanted for breakfast and dinner. I believe they already at Pulo Nánas, cooking breakfast; the palanquins are also at the door; and so, if it be the sahibs' pleasure, it is better to start before the sun gets very high."

All this certainly promised well for us pleasure-seekers, and was no doubt quite as satisfactory an arrangement for our scheming comprador, who always took care to add to every charge a very liberal commission for his own valuable services. We well knew that he was cheating us on a grand scale, but of what avail was such knowledge? We should gain nothing by discharging one who had at least the merit of being good-looking, well-mannered and pleasant-speaking, only to engage another less civil and probably no more honest. And in India all disbursements for personal and household expenses are made through these compradors or stewards—not of necessity, but because it is the custom of the country, and in the East one never rebels against established usage.

Our preparations were soon made: sketchbooks, drawing materials and covered baskets for specimens were transferred to the keeping of our faithful Mussulman, and we set out, anticipating a day of rare enjoyment. We were fortunate in securing the company of Mr. M–, the accomplished president of the Anglo-Chinese College, who had spent some thirty years in Singapore, and was well acquainted with its localities and objects of interest. He was like a complete volume with illustrations on everything pertaining to the East, could answer all manner of unheard-of questions about things that everybody else had forgotten, and had always ready an appropriate anecdote or story just to the point. His very dress was characteristic. It consisted of loose trousers of gray linen, and an old-fashioned white hunting-coat with Quaker collar, and huge pockets that would have answered very well for the saddle-bags of an itinerant surgeon. These were designed as receptacles for such stray "specimens" in botany, geology or conchology as he might chance to discover en route; while thrust into a smaller breast-pocket he carried a brace of huntsman's pistols, with antique powder-horn and shot-pouch slung over the shoulder. His hat was a Panama with low, round crown and a rim nearly as large as an ordinary umbrella. A Chinese youth, an orphan adopted by Mr. M– years before, accompanied his patron in a full suit of yellow nankin made à la Chinoise, with broad-brimmed straw hat, long, braided queue, and the inevitable Chinese fan. The rest of us donned our white linen "fatigue suits," and leghorn hats of such vast dimensions as bade the wearers have no thought for umbrellas. Thus equipped, we were ready for all sorts of emergencies—climbing rocks, diving into jungles or wading through muddy creeks.

The drive was for the most part through spice plantations and groves of orange and palm, and, without delays, would have brought us in an hour's time to the coast. But we could not consent to press onward to the goal ahead without pausing for at least a glimpse of the many objects of interest on the way. First we strolled over a plantation of black pepper cultivated by Chinamen. The vine is a creeper with a knotty stem that if unpruned will reach the height of near thirty feet, but in order to render the vines more productive they are kept down to about a dozen or fifteen feet, and each is trained over a separate pole or prop. At each joint of the stem the plant puts out its fibrous tendrils, grasping the prop, and so climbing to the top. Whenever a vine happens to trail on the ground these tendrils, like strawberry "runners," shoot into the earth, but then they bear no fruit. The branches are short, brittle and easily broken, the leaves deep-green, heart-shaped and very abundant, and the blossom a cluster of small white flowers, almost destitute of odor. The fruit hangs in long clusters of some forty or fifty grains each, somewhat after the fashion of the wild grape, though much more diminutive in size. Until after it has reached its full size it is green, when at maturity of a bright red, and black only after it has become thoroughly dry. When the berries begin to redden the bunches are gathered and spread upon mats in the sun to dry: then the corns soon wither, turn black and drop from the stems, becoming thus the shriveled black pepper known in commerce. What is known among us as white pepper was formerly supposed to be a different species from the black; but the sole difference is in the curing, that intended for white pepper being placed in baskets under water until sufficiently swollen for the exterior pellicle to rub off by rolling in the hands after being again dried in the sun. The plants are propagated by cuttings, which are generally placed some six feet apart, sometimes being trained over the trunk of an old tree, and at others over a strong stake. The vines commence bearing the third year, and continue to do so for a dozen or more, when they are rooted up, new ones having been previously planted to take their places.

We next called at two gambier plantations, both owned and conducted by Chinamen who came to the island a few years before as common coolies. The gambier (Funis uncatis) was formerly called terra japonica, from being supposed to be an earth and to come from Japan. It is grown on sandy soil or dry hills, and requires very little labor in cultivation. It is a slender-stemmed, vine-like shrub with oval-shaped leaves and pale purplish flowers in clusters. The seeds germinate in forty days, and the seedlings are transplanted when about nine inches high. When full grown they reach a height of ten feet or more, and after the first year the leaves and branches are regularly gathered and prepared for the market. Men and boys were engaged in plucking the leaves and conveying them, in mat-bags suspended on each end of a bamboo staff, to the boiling-ground. Here they were boiled until the water was evaporated, and the inspissated juice deposited, which we afterward saw drying in little squares. It is a powerful astringent, having one-tenth more tannin than any other substance known. It is used by the natives as a dye, also as a salve for wounds and for chewing with betel-nut and tobacco, besides being largely exported to Europe for tanning leather and for dyeing. All through the gambier plantations, and in every department of the labor of preparing it for the boiler, I observed that not a female was to be seen, and on inquiring the reason was gravely told that gambier plants would not flourish if touched by a woman! "Sensitive plants" indeed, so readily to discern the difference between the handling of the two sexes!

Our next call was at a coffee plantation, where we saw sixty thousand young and healthy coffee trees, and two-thirds of them in a bearing condition, yielding in the aggregate not less than fifty thousand pounds of dry coffee per annum. The trees are beautifully formed, and rise naturally to the height of sixteen feet or more, but when under culture are kept at five or six feet for the convenience of collecting the ripe fruit. They are planted in rows, the leaves grow opposite each other, and many sessile flowers are produced at their insertion. The blossoms are pure white, and when the plants are in full bloom nothing can exceed their beauty or fragrance, the branches looking as if frosted with snow, while the air is filled with the delicate perfume. But the scene is brief as enchanting: the flowers fade a few hours after they are full blown, to be succeeded by tiny berries that are at first green, then a yellowish red, and finally ripen into a rich crimson or purple; after which, unless gathered at once, they shrivel and drop from the tree. This is about seven months after the blooms make their appearance. The pulp is torn off and separated from the seeds by means of a machine, and the grains, after being thoroughly washed, are dried in the sun and put up in bags. Chek Kongtwau, the Chinese proprietor of the plantation, not only walked with us over his grounds, and answered all our questions with exemplary patience, but insisted that we should go into the house, be presented to his wife and partake of a lunch. He regaled us with tea and coffee of his own growing and curing, excellent turtle steaks, boiled rice, and curry made of shrimps and cucumbers stewed together. For vegetables there were the Malay lobak, a tender white radish, and the cocoa-nut bud stewed in the milk of the ripe fruit; and as dessert we had placed before us, for the first time, the far-famed durian, so universal a favorite among Orientals as to command a higher price than any other fruit in market, yet so abominably disgusting in smell that the olfactories of few strangers can tolerate its approach. To me the odor seemed precisely that supposed to be produced by the admixture of garlic and assafoetida; and as a plate piled with the rich golden pulp was placed before me by our hostess, I came so near fainting as to be compelled to seek the open air. The old Chinaman followed me, and when he had learned the cause of my indisposition, laughed heartily, saying, "Wait a year or two. You have not been in the country long enough to appreciate this rare luxury. But when you have become initiated into a knowledge of its surpassing excellences, never an orange, pineapple or other fruit will you touch when a durian can be had."

Just as we were re-entering our palanquins, Chek Kongtwau inquired whether we had yet seen the anoo palm or sago tree, of which he said there was but a solitary specimen in the island, most of the sago manufactured at Singapore being brought in its crude state from the swamps of Sumatra. He told us the famous tree was several miles from his house, out of our direct route, but if we had time to visit it he would undertake to guide us safely through the jungle to and from the tree. We found it standing in solitary grandeur in a low swamp, and lifting its long pinnated leaves from the extreme top of a trunk full thirty feet high and twenty-eight inches in diameter. Its general appearance is not unlike the cocoa-nut palm. Our conductor called the sago tree sibla, but the Malays give it the name of rumbiga. They say that each tree, if kept properly pruned down, will produce at least five hundred pounds of pith per annum; but it soon degenerates if suffered to grow to any considerable height. The pith is soaked in large troughs of running water until it dissolves and afterward settles, the sand and heavy dirt sinking beneath it, and the fibres and scum floating on top. After being separated from these impurities the sago is dried, and then granulated by passing it through perforated plates till it becomes smooth and polished like so many pearls, when it is packed in boxes and bags for sale. We did not see the process that day, of course, but afterward at the large factory on the river a few miles above the settlement.

One more plantation, a grove of the stately areca-nut or betel trees, we determined to visit before taking the boat. The smooth road was bordered everywhere with the beautiful melastoma or Singapore rose, of perennial foliage and always in bloom, underneath acacias and palms; and the very earth was carpeted with beauty and fragrance enough to have formed the bridal-couch of a fairy queen. Over such a highway three miles were quickly made, and we alighted at the entrance of a narrow lane that led to the abode of Cassim Mootoo, the Malay owner and cultivator of the betel-nut plantation. At the outer door a stone monster of huge proportions and uncouth features kept guard against the uncanny spirits that are supposed to frequent out-of-the-way lanes and dreary passages. The planter received us pleasantly, accepted our apologies for troubling him, and offered to show us over the grounds. He was far less courtly in manners than the Chinese coffee-cultivator, to whom we should scarcely have ventured to offer a fee, while out of the Malay's cunning eyes there gleamed the evident expectation of a snug bonus of silver rupees, which he received as a matter of course when we bade him adieu, and having counted them over and jingled them for a moment in his fingers, he thrust them into his pouch as he re-entered the house.