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Authors: Dawn Farnham

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BOOK: The Red Thread
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Zhen looked at his companion appreciatively, held up the red paper and made the
kongsi
sign for heaven with his hand. Qian made a circle with this thumb and first finger and kept the other three straight as Zhen had shown him. Heaven and earth. They both laughed.

13

Mr Coleman was holding a ball. An invitation had been handed in by George's Indian syce. The date was fifteen days hence, and everyone was invited, including Robert's two European policemen, William and Thomas, and three of the Indian
jemadars
. Robert told Charlotte that Coleman's soirées regularly outshone the governor's and that almost everyone of any consequence was likely to attend. To repeated questions he said he thought that the temenggong might put in an appearance, the governor certainly, and also Colonel Murchison, head of the regiment, most of the Europeans, some important Indian merchants and the leading Chinese and Arab merchants. Several ships were in port, and he thought that most of the officers would also be invited. This information simply put her into a state of high nervousness.

‘Women will be in dreadfully short supply. The ideal opportunity for you to pick up a husband,
chère petite soeur
. George likes to throw the local lads and lasses together now and again. Not being married himself, he's very keen on the wedded state.'

He grinned at her and left.

She wanted to kick him and could not comprehend his blasé attitude, especially since the invitation had been accompanied by an announcement that the only dance of the evening would be the three-step waltz and that the services of the famous Count Papanti had been engaged for dance instruction. Charlotte had no idea how to perform this dance, considered scandalous by her Scottish relatives and, to the best of her knowledge, neither did Robert. Perhaps he already knew about this Papanti fellow. She shook her head and made her way across the plain to Tir Uaidhne. Here she received the information she needed.

It would be a very big ball, maybe a hundred people. Takouhi's brother, Tigran, was coming over from Batavia in his ship. Count Papanti was passing through Singapore, visiting Marie Balestier, wife of the American consul, and Charlotte Keaseberry, both old friends of his patron, Mrs Otis of Boston, who had recently introduced the waltz to America. Dance instruction would be held at George's house for several evenings before the ball. Charlotte was quite thrilled at this news, for she had heard of the ‘wicked' dance sweeping Paris and London where, for the first time, men and women danced in each other's arms.

They would need new clothes, Takouhi announced. Up they went to Takouhi's elegant bedroom, where a huge four-poster bed draped with gauzy netting was covered in an array of silks, satins and chiffons the colours of the rainbow. Charlotte thought this a beautiful room, with its curved bay windows overlooking a grove of palms. To one side stood an English desk of inlaid walnut. On the other, a low cabinet of drawers above which hung a painting. At least she thought it was a painting, but when she went up to it she found it was made of cloth, stained with pigments. Swirling shades blended witchingly together to depict a woman of great beauty standing amidst clouds and foam, fabulous fish and sea creatures at her feet.

‘This is Loro Kidul, Queen of the South Seas. New sultans must make her first wife. Very powerful goddess.'

Takouhi spoke in hushed tones and, putting her hands together, bowed before the image. A long wooden dish lay on the cabinet under the painting, filled with jasmine flowers and small candles.

‘This made by
batik
, don' know English word. Put wax then colour. Mmm, difficult. I show you another day. Like my
sarong
, yes?'

Charlotte nodded, yes; she had seen these cloths in the market, marvelled at their intricacy.

Takouhi turned to the bed and took Charlotte's hand. ‘Please choose. My brother send these for me last ship. My tailor make for you. Today we spend all day for this. By Hanuman's tail, it be fun. On this day I also wear European dress. I like sometimes very much. George always help me. He has paper with pictures. He know we like to make new dress.'

She went into a large closet and emerged with several magazines. One was in French and had colour plates of the fashions in Paris. Takouhi, she knew, had a passion for French things and had begged Charlotte to teach her and Meda the language.

They pored over the magazines, Charlotte translating with Takouhi repeating the words and laughing a silvery laugh. When Meda came home from school, she squealed with pleasure to see Charlotte, and her mother had to reprimand her for such noise, but soon they were all again laughing at French words, wrapping themselves in the stuff which lay scattered around.

Even Evangeline Barbie had agreed to dress up for the occasion, albeit somewhat more modestly than the present fashion decreed. And she had strictly refused to waltz. Evangeline was cook and housekeeper to the Reverend Jean-Marie Baudrel, head of the Catholic mission in Singapore, and Reverend John Lee, the padre of the Chinese mission, as well as those members of the church who passed through and required shelter.

Charlotte accompanied her to the Catholic chapel after her final fittings, and they chatted excitedly.

The chapel was a plain wooden building in the middle of a large piece of ground in Brass Bassa Road. The parochial house occupied a corner compound at nearby Church Street. This, too, was built in wood and raised on brick pillars. Around the chapel and its little schoolhouse, the jungle had been cleared, but there were many little groves of coral trees, yellow kassod, saga and tamarind.

Today, Evangeline was acquainting Charlotte with the workings of the schoolhouse. Charlotte had grown to like her, for they could converse easily in French and, despite her own lack of interest in any religious curriculum, she was happy to help teach the young boys their letters.

The last weeks had been quite hectic. Charlotte's Malay studies with the munshi had been most successful. He was a wonderful and patient teacher and a man of infinite good grace and temper.

She practised with Azam and Asan and improved quickly. Even Robert was surprised at her swift progress.

Munshi Abdullah was pleased to have found a student, so rare, who was interested in the poetics as well as the practicalities of Malay. Once the traders and agency clerks had mastered enough to carry on business, they came to him no more. Together, Charlotte and Abdullah talked of poetry, and she showed him a small book of Shakespeare's sonnets, which he took home to read. He confessed them very difficult to understand and showed her some Malay
pantun
—quatrains which were similar but, he felt, easier to grasp.

He set her a task to translate one. She spent several nights saying it quietly to herself:

‘
Laju laju perahu laju

Lajunya sempai Suraya

Lupa kain, lupa baju

Tetapi jangan lupakan saya
'

Eventually, after much work, she had decided not on a literal but on a poetic version to show to the munshi:

‘Speed, speed, swift boat upon your way

The pace for Surabaya's set

Forget your coat or wrap you may

But me I pray do not forget.'

He had been delighted. Charlotte was more than happy to have found someone to share her love of language and was sorry when their time came so rapidly to an end each day.

In addition, the munshi was a wonderful teller of tales. He had been Raffles' scribe, present at all Singapore's most important moments.

He had laughed when he told her how Raffles had advised him to take up some land in Commercial Square which could but increase in value.

‘Poor scared thing that I was, I felt I could not afford it for lots were selling for up to twelve hundred dollars and, in any case, I did not believe that Singapore would become so densely populated. You see what a poor thing I am, no foresight whatsoever. How would I pay? I thought, but no money ever changed hands. How would I build a stone house, when no house was required? How would I manage to return to Malacca? All these silly worries. So I made a bad mistake.'

At the Catholic chapel, Charlotte was drawn to the Reverend John Lee, a handsome Cantonese who had been educated in Penang. He was a charismatic preacher, there could be no doubt, and he was responsible for a great number of Chinese conversions. He had an aura of invincibility, as if faith really could move mountains. His gentle manner reassured her, had she been in any doubt, that it was not only the Malays but Chinese men, too, who had a soul.

Hundreds of Chinese coolies went to mass on Sunday, and a small chapel had opened recently at Bukit Timah to tend to the needs of the growing flock in the interior. Father Baudrel had proposed a new church, and an appeal for funds had gone out. The French community was a tiny, close-knit group and she liked her time at the chapel, speaking French and occasionally learning some Chinese with the boys who boarded with the priests.

As Charlotte and Evangeline were teaching one afternoon, a sudden clamour arose from the garden and two Chinese men rushed into the chapel, bleeding and covered in dirt and mud. Evangeline and the children cried out, and Father Lee came from the sacristy to find a chaotic scene. Water was sent for, and the women began to tend the men's wounds as Father Lee interrogated them. The children were all taken to the parochial house by one of the older Chinese boys.

‘They say they were attacked. Thirty or forty men came out of the jungle with
parangs
, knives and sticks, and set about the farm. They have killed three others, and these two fled. Two or three days ago they say. The attackers burnt everything to the ground.'

Father Lee was simply translating as the men spoke. Now he looked up at Father Baudrel, who had just entered the chapel.

‘Reprisals against the Catholic Chinese, most certainly. We interfere with the power and control of the Chinese societies over the plantations of the interior. How can we protect these poor souls?'

In response to a message, Dr Montgomerie and Robert soon arrived and joined Charlotte at the chapel. Dr Montgomerie had the patients moved to the parochial house. After talking to the fathers, Robert and Charlotte left to make their way back home.

‘Nothing to be done by my men, of course,' Robert told Charlotte. ‘I may station some peons out at Bukit Timah with some weapons, but really what can we do against such numbers in the jungle? I have told Father Baudrel that these men who convert are placing themselves in danger. If possible they should try to seek work in town, or at least very near town. The far-flung areas are impossible. This situation will only get worse as time goes on, mark my words.'

As they were passing Tir Uaidhne, they called in and were invited to stop for refreshments. Talk invariably turned to the ball, now all but a few nights away. Robert, who had matters of violence on his mind and who had had more than he could bear about this wretched ball, left the ladies to their pleasures and made his way back to the courthouse for a word with the governor.

Yet the ball stayed on his mind; he couldn't rid himself of this nuisance. The dance instruction evenings with M. le Comte Papanti had been unbearably irritating. Robert was a fair dancer when it came to quadrilles, but this waltz was a difficult proposition. The man had to guide the woman, and he had stepped on Charlotte's toes so often she had smacked him with her fan. The ladies and the officers of the regiment seemed to have grasped the thing right away, and Colonel Murchison and Coleman were positively annoying as they swept their partners round the hall. The count, to Robert's horror, had insisted on showing him personally. ‘
Avanti, Roberto
!' He shuddered at the memory of holding this perfumed little man in his arms and cringed as he saw how the ladies fairly swooned when the count guided them through the steps. Even Charlotte had not seemed immune. Evangeline, sensible woman, had refused the instruction but was happy to play the waltz melodies on Coleman's piano. Coleman had given out the latest music sheets from Herr Lanner and Herr Strauss to the regimental band. There was nothing for it, Robert knew he would have to dance at the ball and now, as he made his way, he directed a kick at a stray dog which happened across his path. What a bother it all was, and no Shilah either. He had kept his word to George and not been near her. Fortunately, the rooms in the house at Middle Road were almost ready, his birthday and his inheritance were only a week away.

Leaving his horse with the boy, Robert climbed the curved staircase of the courthouse to Bonham's office on the first floor, its three windows overlooking the river.

The quality which Robert valued most of all in Bonham was his broadness of mind, for he had cast aside, as far as he dared, the monopoly of patronage to men of the East India Company. From this he and Coleman had benefitted in their appointments to government positions. Without him, Robert knew, no matter what their merits they would have been passed over.

Today Bonham looked unwell and had a glass of white liquid on his desk.

‘Church's d— d— d— dinner last night,' he replied on enquiry. Indeed Mr Church, the resident councillor, was noted for his poor dinners, a fact so widely known, even in Calcutta, that it had been an insurmountable obstacle to his promotion.

They sat amiably for some time and discussed the attacks, as well as the spate of robberies on the sultan's compound at Kampong Glam. Piracy was another issue preoccupying the governor's mind. In this way, the afternoon passed and eventually both Robert and Bonham repaired home.

Later, around five o'clock, Robert and Coleman together with a couple of young clerks met at the fives court on the riverside. It was their custom once a week to have a game, which usually attracted an audience of curious onlookers.

After this, the men wandered home to bathe and take dinner. A stroll or ride around the plain was a common activity in the cooler evening, with groups gathering on the beachfront at Scandal Point to rattle over the news and affairs of interest. The European contingent in the town was no more than two hundred and all were known to each other. As the light fell and the oil lamps were lit, they turned for home. The bachelors might yet get together for billiards at one of the grander houses or seek out companionship in the Chinese town.

BOOK: The Red Thread
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