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Authors: Dawn Farnham

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BOOK: The Hills of Singapore
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The boys nodded vehemently. Charlotte could see they were indignant. Ah Soon had made a little fist. She wondered if she should stop this story but the boys were utterly wrapped up in it, and Charlotte did not quite dare to stop the Munshi.

“Nobody dared do anything, for they still feared the Sultan. To Abdul Kadir's face they feigned respect and when they saw him they did obeisance. But they plotted and plotted. Finally, their moment came.”

Ah Soon shot up, too excited to sit. Charlotte threw a glance at Abdullah, and he nodded.

“Abdul Kadir was stabbed with a kris, but not hurt badly. An English doctor saved him. The Sultan turned all his Malay followers out of his house and married his daughter to Abdul Kadir, although Abdul Kadir was already married with six or seven children. And he was given the title
Tengku Muda
, the young prince. Everyone in Malacca was amazed.

“But mark well, my little ones, how great is the wisdom of Allah in working his purpose among men.” Ah Soon sat down, calmed now, and the other boys nodded sagely.

“When the poor, foolish Sultan died, it was the end of Abdul Kadir, and he died, too, not long after.

“Here is a lesson, my young boys. Take care of your body and your mind. Remember that Allah sets his face against foolish tyrants and brings to ruin the greedy, the boastful and the stupid.”

Abdullah stood up and the boys thanked him, delighted with this tale of woe, of mighty fallen and divine justice.

“And now, a tiger!”

The children squealed and ran into the compound. Charlotte followed with Abdullah.

“An exciting tale and you tell it so well. What about the present Sultan?”

“Tengku Ali. He is as weak-minded as his father. He is not recognised as Sultan of Singapore by the English. Hussein's disgraceful behaviour set an irrevocable stamp on this family. Ali is permitted to live here with his followers. It is he who commissioned this palace. The English pay him a pension. However, at present, they favour the Temmengong, who is much smarter than Tengku Ali and on excellent terms with Governor Butterworth. Ibrahim has been useful in putting down piracy, or so it is perceived.”

They had turned around the palace and entered a garden. The boys ran ahead. Two guards with krisses came forward, and the boys stopped abruptly and looked back at the Munshi. He spoke to the guards, and they turned and led the way to a clearing which contained a large cage of bamboo. The guards began poking a stick at the tiger, who looked lethargic and underfed.

Charlotte could not watch. She lacked the stomach for this kind of thing. The boys would be thrilled by it but it had no appeal for her. She spoke to Abdullah, who nodded, and she went back, through the garden and the gate of the compound. Her carriage was waiting and she mounted it, sheltering from the sun under her parasol.

“Mrs Manouk, what a pleasant surprise.”

Charlotte turned and was astonished to see Captain Maitland approaching on horseback. He swung down and came up to her, leading his horse to a stone water trough.

“Captain, what brings you here?”

“I come this way sometimes when I am going into town.” He shifted slightly. “However, I must confess I saw your carriage and came to investigate.”

Charlotte smiled and opened her fan. “My son is visiting a tiger but I have not the heart for it.”

“Yes, I know, poor thing. Better to be shot.”

Their sentiments were in tune and Charlotte warmed to him.

“Would you visit the observatory, Mrs Manouk? I should like it.”

Charlotte sensed a tenseness in him. He had blurted the invitation out. Small talk was obviously not his strong suit. She looked into his eyes. He tilted his head to one side, waiting. It was a charming gesture, boyish.

“Yes, Captain, I should like that.”

He smiled. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning. At ten o'clock. I shall have finished my observations.”

She smiled and he stopped. He took a breath, realising perhaps his brusqueness. “Sorry. Would ten o'clock be suitable?”

“Yes, Captain, entirely suitable.”

He bowed, the look of pleasure on his face making her smile.

She could hear the boys coming back and put out her hand to take her leave, then suddenly remembered. But it was too late. He had moved forward and taken it, putting it to his lips this time. She felt the pressure of his mouth on her hand and sat very still. He too remained motionless for a fraction too long. She gently pulled her hand away.

The boys, all three, came rushing out, excited about the tiger, which had been goaded into action and had roared. They were chattering excitedly. Charles had remounted his horse and quickly cantered away. Charlotte smiled and thanked Abdullah, offering a seat to him and his son. It was all agreed. They would return together. The boys squashed up together, giggling and chattering in an alarming mix of bad Malay and bad English.

As the carriage departed, she opened her fan and cooled her face.

16

Charlotte dressed with particular care. She had chosen a frock of pale green and white cotton, the sleeves of cotton lace falling fetchingly along her arm. Her hat was fine straw weave with a wide, soft ribbon of green falling down the back. It was a spring gown, a young woman's gown, she knew, and she did not care. This attraction she felt for Charles Maitland was entirely unexpected but somewhat undeniable.

The day seemed suddenly rather lovely. The wind was brisk and cooling. The sky was blue with wisps of small clouds. It was a perfect day for a ride. Today, she decided, she would drive herself. The small gharry trap was brought round. Ravi held the reins and handed them to her with a look of such utter disapproval that Charlotte could not help but smile. Her thoughts flew momentarily to Tigran, who had taught her to drive a carriage. Thank you, she thought, my darling. Can you hear me? These inner dialogues with Tigran had stopped somewhat but occasionally they just bubbled to the surface.

Ravi mounted behind her and she clucked the horses into movement, turned out of the gate and set the carriage towards Kallang. The going was firm for the most part along North Bridge Road. She proceeded along Jalan Chondong and Jalan Trang, where the road was muddy and potholed. To his evident pleasure, Ravi jumped down and guided the horse, turning by the police station onto Jalan Rochor. Here the road went over the Rochor River and turned onto Kallang Road, which was in reasonable repair. It was a short distance to the iron bridge which Coleman had built over the Kallang River. As they approached it, she could see Charles Maitland's house on the banks of the river.

Charles was waiting by the bridge. He was dressed in fine black cotton breeches and a snow-white shirt, both of which showed his figure to some advantage. He was powerfully built; his shoulders filled the shirt, which was open at the neck, revealing a little of the dark hair on his chest. She knew he had dressed this way for her, as she had for him. He came forward immediately as she pulled to a halt and without a word put out his hands to lift her from the carriage. It was so unexpected that she had no time to protest. Her waist was in his hands and he held her firmly, lowering her slowly to the ground. His grip was so strong he moved her as if she were a mere feather. When her feet met the ground he did not release her. His hands stayed on her waist, almost encompassing it, and she felt that, one moment more and he would have taken her against him and kissed her. She looked down, embarrassed at her own feelings. Ravi had moved forward to take the reins and grunted slightly.

Charles dropped his hands, somewhat shame-faced at his boldness. There was an awkward moment. Then Charles indicated to Ravi where he could tie up the horse and turned. “Welcome to my humble abode, Mrs Manouk.”

“Kitt, please, Charles, if you don't mind. Everyone calls me Kitt.”

“Kitt, yes, thank you.” He laughed suddenly. “Sorry, I am not much good at small talk. You may have noticed. I am a man of science. We are not very good at that sort of thing. Forgive me.”

Charlotte looked at Charles and opened her fan. A man of science who had the build of a warrior, played women on the stage, and held her in his hands like a feather. He was dangerously intriguing.

“A tour—I was promised a tour, was I not?”

“Yes, of course.” Charles turned now and led her down the path towards his house. It was a simple building, made of brick with an attap roof surrounded by coconut trees. A large verandah encircled it and to the front, brick pillars stood partly in the river, overlooking the expanse of water. Though the day was hot, it was cool, a breeze blowing off the river. Small blue kingfishers flew in and out of the jungle opposite, hovering and plummeting into the river, seeking fish. Tall grey and purple herons picked their way delicately along the far bank.

“My feathered friends,” Charles said. “I also have a family of otters for neighbours, to beguile my working hours. The work of the observatory is rather painstaking and tedious, and they are enjoyable companions.”

Charles led Charlotte off the verandah and through a small grove of trees to the observatory. It was a simple but commodious shed containing a variety of brass instruments. To one side stood a tower, some thirty feet high.

“The tower is for observing the direction and velocity of the wind. The rain gauge is there also. I have been taking measurements since I arrived in 1840, so there is a nice amount of information now.”

Charlotte realised that Charles must have arrived just before she had departed for Batavia.

They turned away from the tower and entered the observatory. Charles told her, “The aim of the observatory is magnetic observations. You see, I am but a humble spoke in a vast wheel of observatories stretching around the world. Fifty-three. Major Sabine is the leader in this research and convinced the Royal Society that there was no greater undertaking for maritime people than the measurement and understanding of the magnetism of the earth. Fortunately, the fluctuating and unreliable movements of the maritime compass, and its dangers to ocean navigation convinced the Admiralty that this was so.”

“I'm not sure I understand.”

Charles smiled. “Well, you see, the magnetic north pole, which the compass detects, seems to be in a constant state of movement. It alters in place and intensity. This has deep consequences on navigation of course, hence the Admiralty's interest. Some scholars suggest that it is perhaps the earth's own core which is responsible for this instability. The job of the magnetic observatories is to furnish measurements from all corners of the world to see if this is true. We do not know whether this magnetic variance causes changes in the weather. This would also be very useful to know.”

Charles stopped and turned to Charlotte. She had been looking at his books and charts. “It is complicated,” he said.

“No, no,” Charlotte protested. She did not understand its detail or begin to make sense of his notations, but she could see it was important. He had explained it well. “I understand that it is a great work. It will make the seas safer. It is a laudable aim.”

Charles smiled and they turned back towards the house. “It is rather tedious work sometimes of course, but one must always bear in mind the larger goal. What I record here, what others record all over the world using the same instruments and the same formulae is gathered together, and gradually we begin to understand. What we do today will benefit all future generations. In our humble way we carry on the work of such great men as Halley and Faraday. Already some of the first up-to-date world magnetic charts have been drawn up. It is, for me, a very exciting time.”

Charlotte nodded. His enthusiasm was infectious.

They walked back to the verandah. A canoe suddenly appeared on the water, filled to the brim with Bugis boys. Curious, they had come to see the white man and the woman. Charles called out to them and waved, and they all began laughing. Several jumped out of the boat and began swimming for the far shore and the others paddled madly behind them.

Charles grinned and called for tea. “These boys are the most curious of creatures. Their kampong is just around the turn in the river as you know and they never tire of coming to see me. They bring me fish and shells and all manner of things they think I am interested in. In return I give them tea and sweets and try to explain what I'm doing, which they do not understand in the least. One told me they thought I was trying to catch the moon in my tower and what a fool I must be, for I would most probably need a net.”

The two chatted in the friendliest of manners for some time. She asked Charles about his family and told him of her own life on Madagascar; the years that she and Robert were orphans in Scotland, how she had learned to sail. Charles too could sail well. Necessary, he added, for any man living in the conditions he had chosen, always in proximity to the sea. Charlotte enjoyed this verandah, with its diving and wading birds. The otter family appeared for their amusement, floating on their backs, clutching fish in their paws like small children playing.

As their conversation progressed she told him of her life in Batavia. Charles had made observations there, and she realised that at one time they had both been in that city together, yet their lives had never crossed. His intensity had floated away, and he told her amusing tales of his time with the Dutch, whose own scientific interests were barely visible.

Suddenly the Malay houseboy appeared with another young man.

“Tuan, I am sorry. Fifteen minutes.”

Charles looked up at the clock on the table opposite. “Oh dear, I am sorry, Kitt. I have to go soon. Duty calls. The time has gone so fast. And I am a man ruled by time.”

He hesitated. “You know, James Brooke is a friend, a great friend. He has asked me to come to Sarawak, to make observations. I wish very much to go.”

Charles looked at Charlotte, who was toying with her teacup, adding sugar. Really the tea was terrible, she thought. The man lived too much alone, it was obvious. No one but a Malay servant to care for him. She had not been paying attention.

BOOK: The Hills of Singapore
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