The Red Thread (11 page)

He had been a ship's surgeon on board a Portuguese man-of-war and had fallen, by chance, into the merchant business when an enforced stopover in Singapore had turned his language skills into an opportunity he could not afford to miss.

In the face of the north-east monsoon, a Portuguese and a Spanish vessel, bound for Macao and Manila respectively, could not proceed with their voyage and were detained in the harbour for four months. Wishing to sell their cargoes to meet expenses, they consulted Dr da Silva and he agreed to act as their agent and help sell the cargoes at auction. This proved so successful that some fifteen years on Dr da Silva was a very wealthy man.

Maria Crane had come down to greet them and invited them to lunch after their visit to the Chinese town. She was a pretty dark-haired, almond-eyed woman, a daughter of her father's second wife, a Portuguese Chinese whom Dr da Silva had taken as a wife in Macao. Her motive in extending this invitation was not entirely altruistic. She had several unmarried brothers for whom Charlotte was entirely suitable. Since he had taken up his post of police chief, she had also had her eye on Robert as a potential match for one of her daughters, sixteen-year-old Teresa. Though she had not wished to extend the invitation to her twin stepsisters, she could see no way of avoiding it.

When they departed, the small party headed towards Telok Ayer Street, where Robert had arranged to meet Baba Tan outside the Chinese temple.

As they went along, Charlotte could only wonder at the extraordinary variety of goods on offer at the small shophouses. Each shop they passed held a powerful appeal: the boot makers, oil shops, locksmiths, ivory carvers and jewellers as fascinating as the ship's chandlers and the paper lantern seller. Down side streets, Charlotte could see carpenters and coffin makers, soap sellers and opium shops. Every tiny space along the side roads contained stalls as well, with men selling vegetables and dried fish, small goods, thread, pickled plums, kajang mats and baskets. The speed of fingers on the clacking abacuses was mesmerising, the noise of it like the incessant chirping of crickets in the jungle. She saw a man writing the picture language with a black brush on white paper. The streets rang with hammering and calls, everywhere around her the incessant clatter and chatter of these wondrously industrious people.

The clamour died down as they went along the bay but, suddenly, a clear strong voice rang out into the air.

‘
Allah O Akhbar
! The call to prayer,' said Robert, ‘from the mosque in South Bridge Road.'

He led her to the shrine built by the Chulias from south India, traders and money changers, who were Mohammedans and followed a god called Allah. This building was small but exquisite, rising like a lacy green multi-tiered miniature palace, surrounded by pierced balustrades, topped by tall minarets. He greeted the guard outside, who rose in
salaam
, and they moved past and stopped in front of the Chinese temple.

As they stood waiting, Charlotte took in the lovely curve of the bay and its occupants. Here were some women, at least, Malays, around the fishing boats. Children, too. She had seen the Malay women in the market and noticed that they and their men alike seemed to chew what Robert explained was betel. The peppery leaf was wrapped round ground cinnamon, sometimes cloves or other spices. Some people liked to add tobacco. Inside there was a slice of crunchy areca nut. The whole was a mild stimulant. He had not especially enjoyed it, and prolonged chewing left the mouth red and the teeth blackened. The practice was so commonplace that one simply didn't notice it after awhile. Chinese men never chewed betel, he added, or the women who came from China. But amongst the wives and daughters of the local Chinese it was de rigueur. Charlotte could not immediately make sense of these fine distinctions and chose to let the subject drop.

She turned her attention to the roofs and walls of the temple. Fierce dragon creatures with curled tails and long tongues adorned each curved roof angle, a mirror beset with flames in the middle of the roof over the main door. Tree-like carved pillars rose on either side of entrance doors which were painted with fearsome men richly dressed in robes of gold and black. The black doors on either side of the main façade were decorated with images of writhing, golden dragons with long sharp teeth and bulging eyes.

The twins thought them hideous, but Charlotte found them provoking.

Baba Tan suddenly appeared from a side street and joined them, apologising for his lateness. He motioned them to enter the temple between the two stone lions. A heady smell of incense assailed them as they stepped inside. He explained the legend of the temple's principal deity, Ma Chu, Goddess of the Sea and Queen of Heaven. As a young girl from a maritime province, she had been distinguished for her chasteness and devotion to Buddha. He did not explain who this Buddha was, but Charlotte presumed some higher god. Ma Chu had miraculous powers of prophesy and was deified. She became patroness of seafaring people. Every Chinese man or woman who travelled on the sea invoked her name before departure and gave thanks on their safe arrival. Charlotte thought her rather haughty and distant behind her headdress of glassy beads.

Giving some coins to an old man in the corner of the temple, Baba Tan presented some bundles of incense to his guests and showed them how to light each stick and place it in the urn. Charlotte found the scent of the sandalwood enticing. Now she understood Robert's references to the ‘perfumed Orient'. The spices of the market, the aroma of cooking, the scents of incense and oils: these were the perfumes of the East. Charlotte was quickly falling in love with this wonderful town, as varied and facetted as a fabulous jewel.

To the right and left of the goddess stood other figures, her constant companions: two huge carved figures with grotesque faces. The green-faced one pointed to his ear, the red-faced one had bulging eyes. According to Baba Tan they symbolised the virgin's all-seeing and all-hearing powers. Before the goddess stood two gigantic imitations of wax candles, eight or ten feet long and painted red, and three or four great false joss sticks. Baba Tan explained that, during festivals, oil lamps are placed inside them and give a fine effect.

On the altar before the goddess stood immense brass incense urns, porcelain vases and flower ornaments and, under the table, stone carvings of a tiger, tigress and cub. It was customary, Tan explained, in a land of tigers, to offer incense to the tiger spirit to induce him to keep away from humans. Charlotte thought this rather charming if somewhat ineffectual. If Robert was to be believed, it didn't seem to help the poor Chinamen of the interior who, he claimed, were carried off with regularity.

Before each of the three deities Baba Tan pointed out two short wooden sticks both having a flat side and a curved one. He explained that these were the
puey
, the oracle blocks. Before a man set off on any enterprise, he consulted the virgin or the other gods to intercede on his behalf with the higher deities.

Baba Tan took up the sticks in front of the God of Medicine. He threw them in the air, and they both landed with their flat sides uppermost.

‘Lucky side, gods are pleased. If the other way, the business must be given up. If the blocks land one flat side, one curved side, this is best omen of all. Most lucky sign.'

Tan offered the sticks to Robert and Charlotte but they politely declined. Charlotte was not sure why, but this ritual felt a bit like the voodoo she had seen a little of in Madagascar. Nevertheless, she thought, she could see little difference between this and the adoration of Jesus or praying to Mary.

Really, she thought, at bottom humans just can't rely on themselves. What we can't control we relinquish to the gods and, if we fail, it's their fault.

As Baba Tan began to lead their group into another courtyard, Charlotte noticed a group of Chinese women enter the temple. The sight of women was so unusual, and their silk costumes so attractive, she dropped back to watch them light bundles of incense. A great fog of pungent-scented blue–white smoke swirled round the courtyard.

Then, as the smoke moved here and there, she saw two Chinese men emerging from an opposite courtyard. She turned her head in their direction, and one of the men suddenly stopped walking and gazed towards her. As his dark, hooded eyes met hers, she felt her heart give a sudden thump; her eyes widened, and blood rushed to her face. She put her hand to her throat, but when she tried to move her legs, she found she could not. The incense seemed to thicken around her, enter her brain, befog her mind. She stood like this, seemingly for a long time until she heard Robert call to her. His voice broke what she could only think of as a kind of spell, and she turned and quickly rejoined her party. She could make no sense of her reaction and, saying she was somewhat hot, fanned herself lightly and gathered her composure, quietly listening to Baba Tan explain one of the fearsome-looking idols with a long red tongue.

Zhen had just finished his talk with Ah Liang, the master of the
kongsi
, who had agreed that, until the ceremony of initiation, he and Qian should go with other coolies to one of the
bangsals
run by the
kongsi
and work at the headman's gambier and pepper plantation. Ah Liang had assessed this young man and felt that, though he was healthy and clever, he might just be too headstrong to be an obedient son-in-law for his master. His friend, Qian, was much more suitable material, more timid and malleable. He would make his recommendation, but what Sang might do he could not say. Sang was a gambler and not always predictable.

When he saw Charlotte through the clouds of incense smoke, Zhen could not believe his eyes. He stopped so abruptly that Qian walked on several steps before realising that his friend was not beside him. Turning back, he too noticed the foreign woman and, guessing what his friend was thinking, pulled at his sleeve.

Zhen paid him no attention. Her eyes had widened when she saw him. Even through the swirling billows he could see they were a deep violet blue, the shade of a late evening sky. He had seen her confusion and was glad that his face showed no emotion. He took a step towards her but she turned suddenly and disappeared. Qian pulled again at his sleeve and he looked down at him.

‘Are you crazy?' he hissed.

Zhen turned and left the temple without a backward glance.

8

Charlotte was glad to return to the bungalow. Lunch with Mr and Mrs Crane had been pleasant, with some unusual Portuguese dishes. Robert had, at first, seemed uninterested in young Miss Crane but appeared to warm to her after a while. She was a pretty girl, with deep chestnut wavy hair and large brown eyes, which she used to excellent effect, raising and lowering her long lashes whenever Robert addressed her. Charlotte was amused by this as well as by Isobel and Isabel's obvious annoyance. She had not observed it before, but clearly there was some interest in Robert on their parts as well. How they thought they could divide him up was a mystery, but she was determined to rib him about it when she got the chance.

Now, in her room, lying on her bed with the shutters closed, she turned her attention to the encounter at the temple.

What on earth was the matter with me? she thought. There are Chinamen all over the town. Why should this one have any effect? The incense probably, disturbs the brain.

But she did not find these thoughts convincing. Gradually she began to remember the night she had arrived, the young man calling to her from the junk. Had it been him? She grew tired and the moonlight, the man, the junk all became a swirling dream as she slumbered.

When Robert returned for dinner she was refreshed, and they passed a pleasant evening. He told her of a robbery which had occurred at one of the European houses.

‘Auch, really it's their own fault. Why, you can walk through almost every European house on the beach at Kampong Glam at certain times of the day without meeting a single inmate or being challenged. The Chinese thieves know this. They carry fictitious notes, you know. If they meet someone they present a note and get told the person does not live there, and off they go, having made a good observation of the house. If not, they pocket whatever pretty baubles, clocks, watches and jewels they can see and depart scot free. Other times it's their own servants that are the thieves.'

A tiger hunt was to be organised, for attacks were getting more frequent. A man had broken into the godown of Mr Balestier, the American consul, and a body had been found floating at the foot of Coleman's new bridge works. The corpse turned out to be an American crewman from one of the opium clippers in port who had been reprimanded and fined by Mr Balestier. He seemed to have broken his neck in a fall from the window. Two houses had been broken into in Kampong Glam. A Chinese gang of men had attacked and released some Chinese prisoners working on a road site. Two had been recovered; the rest had fled into the jungle.

‘Such a lot to do with so few men. Can't ask policemen who are paid a pittance to go off searching in the jungle. We must do our best. I shall try to speak to the Chinese headman, although I suspect him of turning a blind eye. Only the Chinese can keep these gangs under some kind of control.

‘Tonight I have a class with my men. I'm teaching them to read, you know, for until they can read and write I cannot promote them. We'll talk about patrols. But I don't expect any man to stand up to a gang of armed thugs. Also, I may be out late tonight. I want to check on the police station out on the road to Hurricane House. It's good to drop in on them to see if they're paying attention.'

Charlotte was alarmed. ‘Is it not dangerous, Robert, going alone? Is it far from town?'

‘A mile or two. Auch, well, I shall take Jemadar Kapoor. He is an excellent shot. We shall take our swords, and I have a pistol. I may stay the night at Hurricane House, at the plantation of Captain Scott. He is the harbour master; you met his niece. There is a peon here on duty, so you need not fear. If you like, tomorrow morning he can bring you out there. William's plantation is worth a visit.'