The Red Thread (22 page)

He looked at Ah Liang. ‘What is it you want to know?'

‘What does this mean? Did my master mean for this Qian or Zhen to be a husband for his second daughter? I must be the one to fulfill his wishes. His own son is so young. Did you and he have an agreement?'

Baba Tan looked at the letter fixedly for a moment, then at Ah Liang.

‘Yes, we had a verbal agreement. He must have been drawing up the written agreement when he died. Blessings be on his soul.'

‘Which one did he choose for his daughter, Qian or Zhen?'

Tan did not hesitate for an instant. ‘Why, Qian, of course. He is obedient and reliable. Your master preferred him.'

Ah Liang smiled, relieved.

‘Yes, of course, he would have chosen that one. The other was too much like the first son-in-law. I must act for him in settling this last matter. I will consult with the matchmaker tomorrow.'

After bowing to Baba Tan, he took his leave.

Tan smiled and went back inside his house. He, too, would act quickly to secure Zhen. He would speak to him today.

21

The memory of the attacks on the Chinese Christians had faded. The two men had recovered and were now put to work at the chapel. Charlotte had been asked to help them to learn some English and now devoted two hours a day in the later afternoon at the chapel schoolhouse to teaching them letters and words with some teaching materials prepared by Father Lee. She found she enjoyed this, and within a few days, two older Chinese boys whom Father Baudrel wished to bring on had also joined the class.

Charlotte was glad to be busy. Robert was often away all day. After his birthday celebration he had actually disappeared for two full days, and recently his absences at night had increased. She did not worry too much, for he seemed happy and in better spirits than he had been for a while.

She soon developed a routine. They rose with the gun, took some coffee, and then Robert took a long ride. After breakfast, Charlotte would walk slowly along the seafront and over the little stone bridge to the institution, enjoying the air and waving to the fishing boats. The harbour was never empty; ships continually moved in and out, lining up along the horizon as far as she could see. For three days every week she studied Malay here and helped with the English classes. In the afternoons, when the rain often thundered down, she helped at the chapel school. The evenings were spent with Coleman and Takouhi and young Meda or with Robert's two European policemen, William and Thomas. They were often invited to the da Silva home for musical evenings, for everyone in that large family played an instrument and loved to put on concerts and plays.

Meda Elizabeth and the other children had recovered their health. Captain Scott, who had been forced to take in his niece and nephew for the duration of the outbreak, was volubly relieved to have them return to town. Little Thomas Hallpike had been the only European victim, but Charlotte knew there had been deaths in the Chinese and Malay communities. For the first time it occurred to her that the other communities were in a difficult position when it came to sickness.

She knew there was a Chinese paupers' hospital by the stream between Church Street and Bencoolen Street and seen the wretched state of the coolies who, destroyed by hard work, poverty and opium, inhabited this dilapidated building. She had seen Chinese medicine shops, and Charlotte Keaseberry told her the Malays were very clever with plants for their illnesses. The Indian community appeared to have been spared. The soldiers and convicts were tended by Dr Montgomerie or his assistant, Dr Oxford, in the military hospital in the Sepoy Lines beyond Pearl's Hill, or at the gaol.

Sailors who came ashore wounded or ill were looked after expensively by a new arrival, Dr Little, at his dispensary on Commercial Square or, more generously, by Dr Oxford at the inn in Tavern Street. There was no hospital for civilians. Robert told her that there was often talk in the chamber of commerce of starting one, but somehow no one wanted to come up with the funds. Appeals to the authorities in Bengal fell on deaf ears.

Every Tuesday morning, if the weather was clement and he was not busy, Charlotte and Robert would take out
Sea Gypsy
for an hour or two of sailing. They had learned to sail in Madagascar and had continued in the chilly waters of Scotland. Walking the hills around Aberdeen and sailing with Robert and her cousin, Duncan, had been Charlotte's greatest outdoor pleasure. Here in the tropical warmth it was an even greater joy, whether sailing round Pulau Brani with its stilt villages of
orang laut
or butting along the coast, taking in the colourful Malay kites floating above the plain and the great houses along the beach.

There was the big old da Silva house just before Middle Road, the sultan's elegant new palace, which George had built, and the old attap-covered pagoda-style mosque. The sultan was still absent, but the village around his palaces was always bustling. Here on the beach side was a constant bustle of ship repair, boat-and sail-making using the wood and bark of the glam tree, from which the
kampong
took its name. When the wind turned suddenly, they could hear the clanging of the blacksmith and the noises of the shipwrights. On these Tuesdays they sailed into the bay at Tanjong Rhu and up the Rochor River to the Bugis
kampong
houses built out over the water. Unlike the European town, there were children here in abundance: little brown bodies jumping into the water and calling in Malay, ‘hello, hello!'. From September, the mouths of the Rochor and Kallang rivers were filled with the fabulous sight of 300 Bugis Macassar
prahus
. These vessels, with their polished black-and-golden teak hulls, raked stems, and seven colourful sails, made a sight so spectacular that people from the town would leave work and ride out to watch as the great fleet sailed majestically into the bay.

The population of the
kampong
would suddenly swell then by 9,000 men. Their ships carried coffee, gold dust, pearls, spices, fabulous birds and tortoise shell. The Bugis merchants would hawk these wares around the Chinese town for a long time before settling on a sale. They never took money but always bargained for opium, iron, gold thread and piece goods. Charlotte loved the sight of these fierce-looking warriors as they strutted around the town half-dressed, their straight, thick black hair festooned with multi-hued feathers. Their bare, muscular arms were tattooed and bound with leather amulets. Their skin, smooth and hairless, was the colour of burnished copper. Their bodies were strong and compact and their faces handsome, with dark eyes and high cheekbones. Their teeth were black and filed to a point. The sight of a group of these fabulous men bristling with swords,
kris
and machetes gathered around a mild-mannered Chinese merchant was one she was not soon to forget. Though she tried hard, she knew she failed to adequately describe such sights in her letters home to Aunt Jeannie.

In the Bugis season, a fair would spring up on the beach to display and sell the cloth and the
sarongs
which were made all over the islands. Unable to resist the beauty of these garments, Charlotte had taken, like many of her acquaintance, to wearing these cool and pretty clothes at home. She did not quite yet dare to attract the opprobrium of Mrs Keaseberry by ‘going native' on the streets of the town, though.

When sailing, however, she wore masculine garb for ease of movement and had had made several pairs of loose trousers and roomy shirts for just this purpose. She loved the waters around Singapore, especially when the sun rising over the crests of the waves turned the sea from slate to green. As it jumped over the horizon, great rays would illuminate the shallows. Then they would drop the sail and watch the bright fish flitting in and out of snowy corals just below the luminous water of the surface. Sometimes, when they had time, they would sail out to an emerald-ringed islet and jump onto the beach.

One day they ventured further round the island to the east. Robert had promised her a surprise. They had sailed alongside the palm-fringed beach at Tanjong Rhu to a place where a great rock jutted out into the sea. Beyond this, Robert said, were the beaches of Katong. He had just received a grant to lease a tract of land along here to begin a coconut plantation.

When they drew up to the shore, she was delighted to find a simple wood-and-attap building on fat stilts, just behind the fringe of palms. An old Malay couple took care of it and lived at the
kampong
down the coast. Standing on the verandah, looking out to sea, it was easy to imagine that there was no one else in the world. She was sorry to leave, but over the next weeks they went often to this place.

One morning Charlotte arrived at the Catholic mission to see Baba Tan in conversation with Father Lee. She had walked slower than usual around the plain, for there was a great hullabaloo as ships were debarking troops and setting up tents. Several cheeky types had whistled and whooped as she went past. She did not mind: they sailed to war. The harbour was crowded with ships. Robert and George were full of news of a great campaign to open up the Chinese ports. These ships were destined for Canton, where they would wage war on the weak Chinese authorities. Day after day new ships arrived, and the Chinese merchants, whether they had misgivings or not on this matter, rushed to fill the orders that such an influx meant.

She was glad to see Baba Tan. After Mr Whampoa, he was her favourite amongst the Chinese merchants who spoke English.

Baba Tan tipped his top hat to her as she approached and smiled broadly. He was happy to see her and delighted to know that she was teaching English to the young Chinese men in Father Lee's class.

‘How do you do, baba? So nice to see you.' She curtsied politely, for she knew this charmed him.

‘My pleasure also. I am here to discuss some new students for you. Father Lee talks highly of you and of the progress among his students.'

Father Lee smiled at Charlotte.

‘Yes, it's true. The baba is enrolling two young men and urgently asking that I not try to turn them also into good Christians. I have told him that if these young men wish to learn about Christianity it is not I who will stop them. He has offered a generous donation to the new church if you will teach them separately from the others, and a handsome salary for you. In view of such generosity, I think we can meet his demands. What do you think, Charlotte?'

‘I would be happy to help Baba Tan in any way possible,' she nodded, smiling. ‘I know that he is a good friend to us and helps Robert a good deal in his police work.'

They talked a little longer, and it was agreed that these classes could begin after the great funeral of Inchek Sang, for one of the young men was likely to be involved in those proceedings.

The truth was that Baba Tan had not meant at all to get involved with the business of Qian. But when he had put his marriage proposal to Zhen, he had been surprised to be confronted with a man who was most adamant in his terms. Zhen agreed to enter this new Peranakan household and learn its ways, to be a good husband to Tan's daughter, give him grandchildren and learn the business and bring profit to his house. He would take Tan's name and, after his death, carry out the ancestral rites. It was not difficult for Zhen to promise these things, for his elder brother in China would take care of this for their father when his time came.

For all these things he demanded only a certain freedom from restrictions, money to begin his own business in cooperation with his father-in-law, and a house of his own should he wish to take other wives or concubines. In this he was frank with Tan, and the baba realised that he had chosen a rather formidable man for his daughter. He was not displeased; Zhen's requests were bold but not ridiculous. Any man would wish to take concubines; few would settle, like him, for just one wife. Tan began to see what Sang had meant: Zhen had strength and boldness, but it was tempered with a reasonable mind. He would make an excellent merchant. To have these things clear from the start was a good thing.

Zhen's last request also met with Tan's approval. He needed to learn English and wished his good friend Qian to join him. He had heard that the teacher at the Catholic mission house was good with Chinese people. It would be a good idea for him to begin to mingle with the Europeans and follow the example of his future father-in-law. These, after all, were the men he must do business with. Tan had agreed to include Qian until such time as the other man entered Inchek Sang's household. A period of mourning would have to be observed, which might last some time. Until then Qian would work for Ah Liang, who would defray Qian's expenses while he was groomed for marriage to Sang's daughter. Tan was well pleased. It had all worked out for the best, and he felt less guilty about his lie if he helped Qian to come on as well. Sang's weak second son might be worked on by an intelligent man such as Qian to become a decent husband for one of Tan's daughters. An alliance between their two houses would make Tan the richest man in the Straits Settlements.

When Zhen lay down to rest that evening he could not sleep. Truly this island was a land of good fortune for him. Perhaps the legends of the red phoenix were not far fetched after all. A wife and money. Where else could such a thing happen? He wondered what this Tan daughter looked like. He hoped she would be pretty, but it didn't matter. Actually, it might be better if she was plain; he didn't want to feel too much affection for her. He would give her the wedding night of her dreams, this little virgin who had brought him so much luck. It would even be nice to be able to make love freely, not worry about disease. Yes, it might be nice to have a wife. He would get her pregnant right away, and everyone would be delighted. Now that he thought about it, he would be pleased to have a son. Then, if she wasn't too repulsive, he would sleep with her just enough to keep her happy. He had no intention of being locked up in the family home.

And there was the money. Tan had spoken of leasing a shophouse for him, for his new son-in-law would need a place to prepare for the peculiar rituals of the Peranakan marriage, as well as a place of business. Zhen had been allocated a not unreasonable allowance, and after the wedding this would increase. He could send money to his family, help them rise out of their poverty. Once he was established he would send for his younger brothers.