The Rainbow Is One Of The Many Tokens Of Preponderating Chinese
Influence In The Straits Of Malacca.
The tickets are Chinese, as well
as the ownership and crew.
The supercargo who took my ticket is a sleek
young Chinaman in a pigtail, girdle, and white cotton trousers. The
cabin passengers are all Chinamen. The deck was packed with Chinese
coolies on their way to seek wealth in the diggings at Perak. They were
lean, yellow, and ugly, smoked a pipe of opium each at sundown, wore
their pigtails coiled round their heads, and loose blue cotton
trousers. We had slipped our cable at Singapore, because these coolies
were clambering up over every part of the vessel, and defying all
attempts to keep them out, so that "to cut and run" was our only
chance. The owners do not allow any intoxicant to be brought on board,
lest it should be given to the captain and crew, and they should take
too much and lose the vessel. I am the only European passenger and the
only woman on board. I had a very comfortable night lying on deck in
the brisk breeze on the waveless sea, and though I watched the stars,
hoping to see the Southern Cross set, I fell asleep, till I was awoke
at the very earliest dawn by a most formidable Oriental shouting to me
very fiercely I thought, with a fierce face; but it occurred to me that
he was trying to make me understand that they wanted to wash decks, so
I lifted my mattress on a bench and fell asleep again, waking to find
the anchor being let go in the Malacca roads six hours before we should
have arrived.
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