The Red Thread (14 page)

11

When they got back to the settlement the children were left with Mrs Whittle, and Takouhi and Charlotte made their way to the institution. Their route ran the length of the freshwater stream, past the church and the end of the plain. Here, the carriage went up over a charming stone bridge at the sea's edge, where a mighty banyan tree stood, and followed a curved drive to the entrance. The building had been recently rebuilt and extended by Coleman and his men from the unfinished original building which had been a tumbledown eyesore. Covered in jungle and stagnant marsh, it had become a hide-out for thieves. In this condition it had lain for some ten years, offering newcomers to Singapore the surprising aspect of an ancient castle ruin. Now the jungle excesses had been cleared, and palms and trees occupied its vast grounds. The far wing was still under construction, and the chinking and clinking of stonemasons could be heard. It gleamed white with
chunam
, its shutters freshly green. A low fence ran round the sea side, and it looked over a grassy space to the sandy beach and, from there, a view to the to and fro of small boats, the ships at anchor, the glittering sea and islands. Beyond the institution, large houses and luxuriant gardens lined the length of Beach Road: princely mansions which George had erected a few years before, occupied by the richer merchants of the town. The sea breeze was delicious after the closeness of the forest. Charlotte could hardly believe the episode with the tiger had occurred less than an hour before. This town was full of surprises.

As they arrived, the women turned to see Coleman gallop over the bridge. Jumping from his horse, he approached the carriage. Putting his hands round Takouhi's slender waist, he lifted her lightly. Without a word she lay a hand on his shoulder as he held her just a moment. When she smiled down at him, he released her gently to the ground.

Charlotte could clearly see the deep tenderness between Takouhi and George. A palpable aura of unassuming romance surrounded them. She was momentarily envious. She recalled, suddenly, the encounter in the temple and the face of the young man. Surely something had happened then. But what?

Coleman turned to Charlotte, bowed and held out his hand to help her down.

‘One of life's little pleasures, and you never know when the tigers'll get you. Except for the dance floor, whenever else do you get the chance to hold beautiful ladies without impropriety?'

He gave a wink but was careful to hold her hand only briefly. Charlotte found herself wishing he had lifted her, too, wanting to feel his hands on her waist. Ashamed, she flushed slightly. Though she had no idea what George had said, Takouhi noted Charlotte's discomfort, stepped up and took her hand. Charlotte guessed she was not unaware of the effect that George could have on women.

‘
Alamah
, George, you silly-billy, go away.'

Coleman made an exaggerated flourish and bowed extravagantly. Leading his horse, he disappeared around the building.

They entered the cool precincts of the institution, and Charlotte again looked in admiration at the elegant art of Coleman's designs. They mounted the broad staircase and strolled along the tiled corridor where the shutters were all thrown open to admit the breeze. Soon they arrived at a room which gave a wide view over the sea. Takouhi drew her gauzy silk shawl over her hair and knocked very lightly on the open door.

At the sound a man looked up and smiled widely: Munshi Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir. He had, Charlotte saw, the physiognomy of a Tamil from southern Hindustan and was dressed in the style of Malacca Tamils. He was spare, with a slight stoop, his complexion bronze, his face oval with a high nose and a lightly bearded chin. One eye squinted outwards a little. George had told Charlotte that he had the vigour and pride of his Arab heritage, the subtlety of his Hindu mother, but in language and sympathies he was Malay.

Putting down his pen, the munshi rose and greeted them, hands together in a
salaam
. In English he bade them sit and called a young boy to bring tea. Introductions were made, and he agreed to take on Charlotte as a Malay pupil.

‘Munshi, everybody so sorry about family in Malacca.'

This was in English, but Takouhi added some sentences in Malay, and bowed her head.

She had already told Charlotte that the munshi had lost his wife and a daughter in childbirth not long ago. He could no longer bear to live in the house where they had died, so he had sold everything at a great loss and moved permanently to Singapore.

‘There is pain in this but, praise be to Allah, they await me in paradise. This is the balm for my heart. Now I have my new house in Kampong Malacca, my children are with me, my son is a good scholar and helps me teach. There are many blessings,' the munshi responded.

To Charlotte's consternation a large tear slid down his cheek. She herself began to feel tears well, and Takouhi dabbed her eyes. For a few minutes they all sobbed very quietly and without any embarrassment.

‘My word, Abdullah, you certainly have a way with the ladies.' It was George, and beside him was Mr Moor, the headmaster of the institution.

The munshi wiped his face with a large handkerchief and rose from his chair.

‘How do you do?' Mr Moor greeted the ladies. ‘Pleathe allow me to show you the thchool.'

‘Moor studied for holy orders,' said George. ‘He'd have made a fine preacher, don't you think?'

The munshi shook his head at these antics. Coleman and Moor both grinned at Abdullah and then, gathering in the ladies, began a tour of the institution.

Mr and Mrs Moor and their three children occupied several rooms in the western wing. He took care of fourteen boys who boarded at the school. Below these apartments were the Chinese schoolroom and a printing room. The central body of the building was divided into rooms for teaching Malay and English (on the ground floor) and a library and meeting room (on the second). The headmaster explained that there was an upper school, with some fifty boys who came from Calcutta. There were also over a hundred Chinese, more than half of whom were Christians, thirty Kling and fifty Malay boys. A Bugis class had been abandoned for lack of students. Invitations to the Malay chiefs to send their sons had come to nothing.

He was delighted at the suggestion that Charlotte should help his wife and the Reverend Stanford in teaching the English classes.

Removed a small distance from the main building and sheltered by trees was a large attap shed for play, with a gymnasium, a small fives court and a quoit ground. Some of the boarders were running about the grounds, but the shed was deserted, for the school was open from nine in the morning until two in the afternoon.

They stood for a while watching the comings and goings of bullock carts gathering stones from a hillock behind the school. Mr Moor explained that the trustees had advertised that anyone leasing land near the school and wishing to erect substantial buildings could freely take stones from this hillock.

‘There is a great dethire by everyone here that Coleman's buildinth should be emulated so that Thingapore can prethent a civilithed fathe, as Mr Raffelth wished.'

Takouhi looked at him and then George. Coleman grinned. Charlotte hid a smile behind her hand and thanked Mr Moor graciously. She was looking forward to helping such a man.

12

Zhen and Qian were sick of work on the plantation: chopping and gathering vast quantities of wood to heat the water for boiling the gambier, tending the damn stuff, then distributing the lees as fertiliser for the pepper plants. The fire was so intense you couldn't get within twelve feet of it. It was hot and exhausting work, and they had both had more than enough.

At the end of the first week they had been guided to the
kangkar
, the three-hutted settlement where they could get the local palm toddy and opium. The women were kept in a shaky hut in the forest. After a couple of drinks of
arrack
, which they both found unexpectedly tasty, Zhen and Qian had gone to investigate this place, where men were crouched in a line. Three would go in at once. Inside the dark hut, the reek of dirt and sex was overpowering. Three women were lounging against the wall waiting. They were naked and filthy, their eyes as vacant as those of dead fish. One looked to be pregnant. Qian had never seen women like these, very black, with squat noses and large breasts and hips. He had no desire to touch any of them and, looking at Zhen, was relieved to see that he, too, was appalled at the condition of these creatures.

The smell of opium and alcohol hung heavy in the hut. The third man who had entered was put off by his companions' disgust, and they all left. Nobody could tell them where these wretched women came from, except that they had been sold as slaves at the Bugis slave market.

When they heard that the accounts-keeper at one of the opium farms had died, Qian volunteered to take his place. He feared all the backbreaking labour on the gambier farm would kill him. Zhen simply stepped up to the headman, looked him in the eye and said he was going too. The headman—a small, thin addict with a constant cough—merely shrugged. They plodded through the jungle for an hour until they came to the opium farm.

Zhen had seen opium aplenty. He had tried it but he knew that it was a hard mistress. His father, clever pharmacist though he was, eventually became addicted, and this, in the long run, had brought misery and bankruptcy to their family. Opium was the reason he and his brothers had sought out the
kongsi
, the reason his mother's health had been ruined from hunger and worry, the reason he was here. Now, if he could, he would grow rich on it. The irony was not lost on him.

While Qian settled down to the quiet business of learning the organisation of the accounts, which seemed to be in poor order, Zhen learned the process of making the cooked opium,
chandu
. He was told to place the raw, gummy opium in a pot with water to cover it. This was boiled until it liquefied, and then he was set the task of straining it through gauzy cotton to remove the twigs, dirt and little stones. This strained mixture was set aside, and the impurities were reboiled and strained until all opium had been thoroughly removed. He learned that a hundred grams of raw opium could give seventy-five grams
of chandu
. Then the men sat around the pot of purified opium as it bubbled slowly over a low flame until all the water had evaporated and only a thick black paste was left. Now the
chandu
was ready to be rolled into cannonballs for shipment to the town or distributed to the
kangkars
throughout the interior.

This work was so easy that they fell into a sort of rhythm with the other six men on the farm. Supervision was minimal. Since the previous account-keeper had died, no one had visited the farm, and the men, taking advantage of this, had been stashing small bundles of
chandu
in the jungle. Qian saw this in the accounts but could not stop it, and Zhen did not care.

At the end of a few days, the temptation to share several pipes with the other men was overwhelming.

In a jungle clearing a little way from the huts, the men lay on their sides in a circle while they ‘kicked the gong around'. One was designated the
chandu
chef, and he skillfully rolled and cooked each of the
yen pok
pills. He warmed the pipe to exactly the right temperature, inhaled deeply and passed the pipe along.

Each
yen pok
pill lasted about one to three minutes; they consumed about ten. Qian initially felt a shock at the bitter taste, but the smoke was sweet and pungent. He felt a loosening in his muscles and, as the pipe passed around, it loosened tongues as well. Men who barely said a word all day began to talk of their villages and the heroic deeds they had performed there, tales real or imaginary of the foes they had vanquished, the number of women they'd had. Even Zhen suddenly began to babble incoherently about some women he'd known and the poems he had written. Then the men drifted off into dreams.

Qian, who had smoked very little, awoke suddenly, befuddled by his surroundings. Men on either side of him were snoring. It was evening. A low growl came from the jungle, and he froze with fear. Frantically looking for Zhen, he knocked the man next to him, who awoke. In an instant a huge tiger had padded into the clearing. Qian could smell its musty odour, hear its rattling breath. To his horror, the tiger seized the leg of one of the sleeping Chinamen in its jaws and crunched down, dragging the man into the jungle. The victim awoke with a curdling scream, and all the other men leapt up. Qian was frozen with fear as men rushed around grabbing sticks and cudgels from the camp. The tiger did not reappear, and no one was going after it to try to save the hapless victim, whose screams could be heard receding into the darkness. Zhen grabbed Qian, and they ran back to the huts and began to light fires around the encampment.

The next morning, one of the guards came to check the camp. When he called, Zhen came to the door of the hut and explained what had happened. The boss simply shrugged.

‘Ready yourselves; get the accounts together. Master Liang's man will come today.'

He called for tea and food, and the men emerged slowly from the hut and began the business of the day.

Within an hour, a small group of men walked out of the jungle. One of them went into a hut with Qian, and when they came out some time later, he said to the men,

‘This man, Qian, is the new headman here for now. You obey him.'

The man handed Qian some pieces of red paper with black writing.

After they had left, Zhen went up to Qian, who handed him a paper and distributed two others. The final one, destined for the man who had been the tiger's dinner, had been discarded. The notices told them the initiation ceremony would take place in eight days.

‘Well, well, headman, eh, you girlie. How did you wangle that?'

‘No need for such amazement, my thunder friend. I'm learning fast. We both know people from my village. I told him that the dead guy kept lousy accounts which I have been putting in order and that I have now stopped the pilfering which was endemic until I arrived. Then I mentioned that you, with enormous bravery, had saved the other coolies from the tiger. I also asked him to give our compliments to Master Liang, whom we both met in the temple at Guan Soon Street and that we are looking forward to seeing him again at the initiation ceremony.'