The Hills of Singapore (19 page)

She crushed the cigarette into the ground, grinding it into the earth. Then she rose and walked back to the house.

21

The night was particularly warm, and all the efforts of the punkah wallahs to create coolness were of little use. The men gathered at the house in Armenian Street were waiting, sweating gently, for their leader to arrive for a meeting of Lodge Zetland of the East, the gathering of Freemasons in Singapore.

On the agenda tonight was fundraising for the Chinese Paupers' Hospital and the Seamen's Hospital which Mr Thomson had built on Pearl's Hill. Also to be addressed was the progress of the proposed building of the Horsburgh Lighthouse on Pedra Branca. But most of what would be dealt with was the most pressing of problems at present, the Chinese secret societies.

The Worshipful Master of the lodge was late. Robert was chafing slightly at this delay. He enjoyed the lodge meetings, the conviviality of the company of old friends, but tonight his arm was hurting. Robert Woods,
The Straits Times
new owner, was talking vehemently with Catchick Moses. Catchick had recently sold the newspaper to Woods, a man who liked crusades. Probably he was still ranting on about James Brooke, the white rajah, against whom he had decided to direct his particular ire. Robert did not like Woods very much. He preferred
The Free Press
over the verbosity of Woods's
The Straits Times
, but he tried to maintain cordial relations with everyone in Singapore. And, of course, here in the Lodge, the temple of brotherly love, everyone kept strict control of their tongues.

The Master of the Lodge finally made his entrance, bedecked in his regalia of office, his sash and apron, which brought the conversations to an end. He called on the Wardens as to those present in the south, west and east, then called the deacon to see the door tyled. The Tyler guarded the door throughout the meeting of the lodge. The Tyler and other officers of the lodge recited their duties, and the Master called on the brethren to assemble around the altar. The men gathered, going down on one knee and holding hands. They bowed their heads as the Master recited the verses of the psalm. Then he too came forward to join the circle, and they lifted and lowered their hands six times. This represented, Robert knew, the sign of astonishment of the Queen of Sheba on first viewing Solomon's Temple. At first Robert had thought all this terribly queer, but he was used to it now. Of course his wounded arm precluded any Sheba-like raising and lowering on this occasion, and this was understood.

The assembled men returned to their places and the Master took his seat on the throne. “Brethren, attend to the signs,” he said. When the assembly had performed the signs of the various degrees of the lodge, the Master began the Charge of the Opening.

“The ways of virtue are beautiful. Knowledge is attained by degrees. Wisdom dwells with contemplations: we must seek her. Let us then, Brethren, apply ourselves with becoming zeal to the practice of the excellent principles inculcated by our Order. Let us ever remember that the great objects of our association are the restraint of improper desires and passions …”

Robert ceased to listen. He knew it by heart anyway, but these last words seemed to be cast at him. It was as if a light shone down into the dark recesses of his heart and read what lay there. His improper desires and passions for Shilah, the woman he had possessed and should have kept. His love for Teresa had not been love; he saw it now. He had been hasty in marrying her. She had had other suitors, and he had been afraid to lose her then—and she wanted him so very much, he knew. She had been suitable. He dwelt momentarily on the word. “Suitable”, a suitable wife from a respected family.

Robert shook his head. That wasn't fair. He had been happy with Teresa. Until … the Master was still intoning. He was head auctioneer at one of the firms on Commercial Square and loved all this pompous ritual, the oath-taking, the signing, the almost boyish secrecy. But at least, Robert thought, he wasn't carrying on with …

With what? he caught himself quickly. Shilah wasn't a “with”. She was lovely, sweet-natured and loving, filled with intense passion still for him. She had demanded nothing of him, merely his presence in her life, in Amber's. He had come to enjoy the quiet, pleasant time they spent together with Amber. She never blamed him, not a word of reproach passed her lips. Even after … he remembered that awful time. She had been found in a pool of blood, unconscious but still breathing. Amber had been two years old. He had been married only a week. A miscarriage, Dr Little had pronounced. Shilah had been pregnant when he got married, for he had continued to sleep with her even during his engagement.

Robert had had the decency then to be mortified. She had lost a great deal of blood. Later Dr Little had confided to him that he suspected an intervention. Future children might be difficult. Probably just as well, he had said, if Robert planned … he did not say any more, but it was clear what he was thinking. Cheeky blighter, Robert had thought, and told him to mind his own business.

In good time, Shilah had recovered. She had seemed to get over it. She had survived. All had seemed well, and Teresa knew of this old liaison and the child. Robert had ceased to visit Shilah, and since it was over, his wife had accepted it, with reasonably good grace.

But then he had gone to see her in the pretty house on Queen Street that he had purchased for her and Amber. He had climbed the stairs. The house had seemed empty. He could hear the sounds of Amber playing in the garden with her amah. He had turned to join them outside when there had been a noise from the big front bedroom. It was Shilah, singing. Her melodious and husky voice he had always found attractive.

He had gone to the door and seen her. She was dressed only in a sarong, fresh from a bath, and the folds clung to her figure. Her long black hair was down to her waist, gleaming and wet, her fine brown skin damp. He had not seen her like this for years. She turned and saw him, her black eyes, in this unguarded moment, full of soft longing. The same look in her eyes as the night when, a virginal fifteen-year-old, she had come to him in his bed at the police house on the seaside.

His vows, his good intentions, disappeared and he had locked the door behind him and gone to her.

Robert sat musing on this when he realised that the opening charge was ending.

“Let us act with dignity becoming the high moral character of our venerable institution.”

He shook himself from his reverie. Dignity and high moral character. Yes, well, at the moment he wasn't a fine example of these virtues, he knew, but he could do nothing about any of it. He had found a renewed love for Shilah which was far more powerful than when he was younger. This feeling had depth, the depth of young love remembered and rewrought. She had been his first woman and he her only man. They were both gripped by this rediscovery. She had told him he must not worry. She wanted nothing from him but this moment, this love. She would never interfere with his life with Teresa, would never expect more than this. She had been to hell, she told him as she lay in his arms, and it was not a good place. He need not fear, she would never go there again. And he pulled her to him and kissed her and looked in her eyes and knew it was the truth. She was stronger than she had ever been, and he found this strength irresistible and inflaming. What Teresa would do if ever she found out, he did not know.

The meeting was called to order and open for business. He fell back firmly into his role as policeman. More than his own welfare depended on him. The state of law and order in Singapore was in tatters, and this was far more serious than any personal concerns.

The first order of the meeting was the subscription for the two new hospitals on Pearl's Hill. The European Seamen's Hospital was finished and the Chinese Paupers' Hospital was almost complete. Acknowledgement was made of Tan Tock Seng whose generous donations had made the building possible, of the services of Hoo Ah Kay, known as Whampoa, as Treasurer and to Seah Eu Chin, who kept the wards supplied with food. The government supplied medicines and medical attendance.

Activities to raise money for the Poor Fund were discussed. Robert rose and explained that a list of fees had been drawn up which he would apply: fees for the numerous processions in the town, for example. The members nodded their heads. Fees for carrying fowling pieces on sporting expeditions, he continued. This met with a few frowns but no dissenters. Robert went on until his list had run out.

“I should mention finally that my sister, Mrs Charlotte Manouk, has also offered the sum of $1,000 per year to be divided between the two hospitals. She has invited other philanthropic members of the Chamber of Commerce to match it.”

A murmur went round the hall, and some members clapped. Others remained stoically silent. Charlotte's offer was generous, for she knew this matter was close to Robert's heart. But they both knew that the idea of a low-born woman having such wealth was one which sat uneasily with many of the older merchants. Robert did not care, however. This matter was too important.

“I remind my brothers of the three great principles of Freemasonry: brotherly love, relief and truth. Our fellow creatures who suffer demand from us human affection and charitable relief. I urge you to contribute generously to the Poor Fund.” Robert sat down.

Chinese labourers were pouring into Singapore at the rate of ten thousand per year. Many went out to Rhio or into the Malay Peninsula, but many stayed working in the countryside on the island. Inevitably they fell on hard times, and the sight of these poor men in failing health, exposed to the vicissitudes of the climate, becoming quite helpless, was one which neither Robert nor many of his policemen could bear. A mere scratch could, through neglect, become suppurating ulcers, and then these men became street mendicants. The sight had become commonplace in Chinatown and a public nuisance.

That the Chinese secret societies drew their thieving membership from this community made little difference to their abject misery. Every one of his European policemen on their rounds carried a subscription paper for the Chinese hospital and, to their credit, the Chinese merchants rarely refused.

The proposed lighthouse at Pedra Branca was the next order of business. Mr Thomson's plans and estimates had been agreed upon. It was to be a monument to the late and great hydrographer, James Horsburgh, and the lodge had been requested to officiate at the laying of the foundation stone. The matter was quickly dealt with.

Billy now raised the final piece of business: the continued disorder in the town caused by the Chinese secret societies. There was little the lodge could do, but Robert had been asked to talk about a group which all Freemasons found a fascinating subject. He was glad to do it. With his arm useless, it had allowed him to delve into what had been written about them and he needed to understand them if he was to try to break their power.

“At one time, I believe, many Masons took these societies as a kind of Chinese Freemasonry. Through the work of Dr William Milne, we know much more than in the past about the Three Unities Society, what he has termed the Triads. We know, for example, that the Chinese secret societies are characterised by pretensions to antiquity, that mutual assistance is their professed object and that they hold ceremonies of initiation and oath taking, much like ourselves. Milne has likened the three ‘elder brothers' in the Triads to our own order of apprentices, fellow-craftsmen, and masters.”

Robert took a long drink of water, warming to his subject.

“Milne freely admitted that he had not been able to obtain information on the Triad laws, discipline and internal management, for they are as secret as our own. However, he is adamant that …” Robert looked down at his paper and read, “the society has degenerated from mere mutual assistance to theft, robbery, the overthrow of regular government and an aim at political power. Triad members are now exhorted to defend each other against attacks from police officers, to hide each other's crimes and to assist detected members to make their escape from the hands of justice.”

Robert looked up. “Recently an action was tried in the court at the instance of a respectable Chinese merchant named Ang Ah. He had been attacked by the peons of the current opium farmers in Singapore for illegal dealings. He was saved by the swift actions of our brother, Mr Frommurzee Sorabjee, who was passing. It transpires that this attack was instigated because this Ang Ah had recently become the renter of an opium farm lately established in Johor by the Temenggong. The Chinese settlers in Johor increase daily, and the Singapore revenue farmers are feeling the pinch. I have heard that the decrease in the sale of opium and spirits amounts to $100 a day. The immigration of the gambier and pepper planters has been gathering pace. Within the last six months, fifty-two more plantations have been established along the rivers of Johor. This exodus will only increase as the land on Singapore becomes exhausted. The Temenggong is actively encouraging this move, and this government has no option but to support him.”

Robert was tiring, his arm was hurting. He had already decided to excuse himself from the dinner which terminated every lodge meeting. “There is a war going on, the depth of which we little understand. I would remind all brethren to be vigilant and to report to me any information that may come into their possession,” he concluded.

He sat down and wiped his face. After the Master closed the meeting, Robert left quickly and allowed Charlotte's driver to take him home. She had placed one of her carriages at his disposal whilst he could not ride, and he was glad of it tonight. He smiled. It took some getting used to, this wealthy sister, but he was glad she was here, loving, supporting, faithfully at his side no matter what he chose to do.

He and Charlotte, always so complicit. Nothing had ever changed between them. Since childhood, since the loss of their parents, they had always taken care of each other first. It was not always no questions asked, but few judgments were made. What was the point of such judgments? Their lives, like those of their parents, they viewed as precarious.