Chapter IV: Part 4

Let us land and make our way towards the town. Commercial 10
Square and Raffles Square, with their shops and business offices,
are quite English in appearance, except for the waiting rickshas
and the dress of the natives. Then we see the cathedral and 11
the cricket ground, which lies on part of the reclaimed
foreshore, with the Raffles monument in the middle. In another
direction are Chinese shops and a Chinese open-air theatre with
the crowd gathered round it in spite of the rain. They are
used to rain in Singapore. We pass a Chinese temple, and more
shops, and then on the outskirts of the town we may light on
the suburban villa of a wealthy Chinese merchant, standing 12
in its own beautiful grounds. The Chinese are proud of their
gardens, and the owner willingly shows us round. Here is a lake
in the garden with the magnificent Victoria Regia water-lily 13
growing in it. Everywhere in Singapore the architecture and the
people of the East and West are blended in a strange mixture.

In the hilly country, outside the city, there is nothing of very
special interest for us. As we are close to the Equator and
have heat all the year round, with a heavy rainfall, almost any
tropical product can be grown on the island; the Chinese make a
speciality of the cultivation of pineapples, which are tinned and
exported. Here we have a scene in the factory. We need not 14
explore the country, but a visit to the botanical gardens will
not be a waste of time, as it will tell us a great deal about the
Malay region in general. In one corner of the gardens is a 15
large collection of palms; we have seen already what an important
place the trees of this group have in the life of the tropics,
and we shall meet them often again. Of even greater interest,
perhaps, from the European point of view, is rubber. Here we find
the Government conducting experiments to discover the kind of
trees most suited to the various districts, and the best methods
of cultivation and preparation; we shall see some of the results
of these experiments on the mainland of the Peninsula which we
are now going to visit.

_Copyright._) (_See page 79._

SINGAPORE: THE RIVER.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 85._

MALAYS ON PLANTATION.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 87._

PALACE OF THE SULTAN OF KELANTAN.]

We touched at Singapore first as it is by far the most important
of the Settlements: the oldest is Malacca, which in the time
of the Portuguese and Dutch occupation held the position which
Singapore holds to-day. Under modern conditions it has declined
in importance and ranks below both Singapore and Penang, though
the railway and the rubber industry are now giving new life 16
to this old-world settlement. Here is a glimpse of the river 17
and here a street in the town; it is picturesque enough, but we
miss the life and bustle which we have seen at Singapore.

The island of Penang, together with the strip of the mainland
opposite, was leased by us from the Sultan of Kedah, over a
hundred years ago, at a time when the rest of the coast was more
or less under the influence of the Dutch. The rent is still paid
regularly to the Sultan for the time being. In 1824, we came
to an agreement with the Dutch who withdrew all claim to the
Straits, while we left them undisturbed in the island region
further south. This withdrawal of the Dutch, and the possession
of Singapore, gave us the entire control of the Straits of
Malacca. Since that time there have been some small additions
to the area of British territory, but our chief work has been
to bring the native States within our Sphere of Influence. The
result in the last century, as we have already seen, was the
formation of the Federated Malay States, governed by their native
rulers with the advice and assistance of British officials. A
British Civil Service, with native and Indian police, and a
regiment of Indian soldiers, under British officers, assist in
the work of administering the Federation. It is an interesting
experiment, crowned by complete success, in the application of
Western ideas and methods of organization to a semi-civilized
people; and a similar system is gradually being introduced into
the other Protected States. Here is a group of these native 18
rulers and British officials, representing the two sides of the
combined administration.

Though we read a great deal about piracy and misrule in the old
days, we must not think of the natives of Malaya as wholly given
over to barbarism. The States, just as in India, had their own
form of government and social organization, long before they
came under our influence. They had their courts, palaces and
public buildings. The palace of the Sultan of Selangor, which 19
we see here, reminds us strongly of some of the magnificent
buildings in India. Side by side with it a British Residency 20
in the neighbouring State of Pahang seems an insignificant hut;
but the hut represents efficiency in administration, while the
Sikh sentry who guards it stands for the law and order which we
have introduced.

The past development and future prospects of the Peninsula 21
can only be understood in the light of its geography. It has a
great length of coastline, so that no part is very far from
the sea, while access to the coast is easy on the west. But a
mountain chain, stretching continuously from north to south,
though nearer the west coast than the east, forms a difficult
barrier between the States on either side, except in Johor, where
it spreads out and becomes lower. The rainfall is heavy all the
year round and the temperature rather like that of the palm house
at Kew Gardens. As a result of these conditions, forty years ago
the whole region of the lowland was a great jungle, with the
Malay inhabitants living in scattered villages and clearings
along the streams which offered the only means of movement.
Before we came there were no roads except the forest tracks 22
such as we see here, formed by wild animals and used mainly by
hunters. Now there are good roads all over the western side of
the Peninsula, with rest-houses at intervals, maintained by
Government for the benefit of travellers. These roads connect
the towns of the interior with the sea or with the lower reaches
of the rivers where they are navigable for large boats; while a
trunk road now runs over the mountains, linking the railway in
Selangor with Kuala Lipis on the Pahang river. Here we have 23
a scene on this road, with the old native bullock cart and the
modern motor-car side by side. We can imagine that travel will be
slow in these carts; and so it is; but off the road all movement
whatever is impossible. Besides the roads there is now the
completed trunk railway, running from Johor Bharu, where it (1)
connects by steam ferry with the short line in Singapore island,
right along the west of the Peninsula to the coast opposite
Penang. The railway, like the roads, has branches connecting
with ports on the coast, and on the east side a line is being
pushed forward into the State of Pahang; this will ultimately
pass through Kelantan and connect with the Siamese system. About
half-way along the trunk line, in the State of Selangor, is Kuala
Lumpur, the administrative centre of the Federated States.

When road and rail are not available, our sole resource is the
water, which has always been a vital element in Malay life. We
may travel in canoes of various kinds, and for long journeys
we may hire a roomy houseboat, such as we see here on the 24
Pahang river. If no boats are to be had, we may build a raft 25
of bamboo and on it drift down stream. Our journey will not be
without excitement, as there may be rapids to be negotiated, and
we must be careful where we bathe, as there are crocodiles 26
in plenty. Near the river mouths and along the coast we find
sailing boats, often of the junk type, which remind us of China;
and the larger ports have their coasting steamers, owned in some
cases by Chinese capitalists in Singapore.

Malaya, with its warmth, ample rainfall and many streams, is
naturally the land of the rice swamp and coconut palm. As
we travel southwards from Penang, the rice fields stretch
monotonously mile after mile over the flat lands between the
railway and the sea. These great levels do not make good 27
pictures, but here is one of them. The native in the foreground
is beckoning eastern fashion, with the hand pointed downwards.
The ditch beside him is an irrigation channel. The water is
impounded in rough reservoirs on the valley slopes and allowed to
flow down to these channels; sometimes, too, it is raised from a
lower level by a primitive water wheel, with bamboo tubes fixed
on its rim as buckets. Experience has made the native skilful in
irrigation work of this kind.

The rice field, the coconut palm and the river provide the Malay
with an easy living, supplemented in the past by the proceeds of
occasional piracy. He was not likely to be industrious so long
as his property was liable to be seized at any moment by his
rulers or their deputies. The Malay, as we find him all over the
East India Islands, will hunt, fish, sail a boat or fight with
considerable energy and skill, but he takes ordinary life in an
easy fashion. He has no desire for the business of money-making
and prefers to live in his simple fashion in his own homestead or
_kampong_. Let us look at some of these native houses. They are 28
all raised above the ground on piles, and usually have a kind
of verandah on one side; the interior is dark, as the native 29
is not fond of windows. We notice the bamboo and the coconut
palm near every house and shall probably come on the stream not
very far away. This is the real Malaya: the aspect of the towns
is very different. Here we find streets of houses and shops, but
these are largely given up to the natives of India or China,
as we may guess from the signboards in the picture before us. 30
Here, on the other hand, we see the typical Malay, in his 31
national costume, the bright coloured _sarong_ or petticoat
which is worn both by men and women, with a light jacket of 32
some kind to complete the dress. The Malays are Mohammedans,
though not perhaps of a very rigid type. Here we see the new 33
mosque at Kuala Lumpur, fit to stand side by side with a palace;
but the simple thatched or tiled buildings which we find 34
everywhere in the villages seem to agree better with our pictures
of ordinary Malay life.

Though the Malay is largely occupied in agriculture, yet he
has taken only a small share in the most important of recent
movements, the artificial cultivation of rubber. All along the
railway, outside the rice swamps, we find our view shut in by the
tall trees of the forest. Here is a glimpse where the forest 35
has been thinned out a little, and here again is a corner 36
of the jungle showing the dense growth of fern and creeper. The
constant rainfall and high temperature which give us the jungle
have been found to be well suited to the growth of the Brazilian
rubber tree. So here and there from the train we catch sight of a
great clearing, with perhaps the young rubber trees growing 37
amid the roots and fallen trunks of the older forest. Or 38
again we pass a plantation in a more advanced stage; and if we
pay the planter a visit we may see the coolies tapping the
trees by slicing the bark, and collecting the milky latex 39
which when coagulated and smoked becomes rubber as we know it.
The planter is English, perhaps from Ceylon; the coolies who 40
cluster round the bungalow to receive their pay are probably
Tamils from India, since the Malay, though useful in the rough
work of clearing to which he is accustomed, does not take readily
to the steady work of cultivation.

Clearing, planting and growing the trees is a slow process, and
the progress of Malaya would have been far from rapid if it had
been based on agriculture alone. The money needed for roads and
railways came from another source. When we intervened, we found
the Chinese coolie already in occupation, and a considerable
traffic in Chinese-owned vessels along the coast to Singapore.
The cause of this traffic was tin. Tin ore is everywhere in the
Peninsula, though it is mined chiefly in the alluvial areas at
the foot of the hills. Some of the mining is still very primitive
and is carried on by groups of Chinese who work with little
capital but manage to make a profit none the less. But in many
places modern machinery has been introduced; the steam pump has
replaced the chain and bucket of the Chinese, while hydraulic
sluicing and other up-to-date methods of mining are becoming 41
common. We often come on a whole valley, looking like a huge 42
quarry, turned upside down and desolated in the search for tin.
Everywhere we notice the busy Chinese coolie, in his curious sun
hat, and in the distance we may catch sight of the barracks where
he lives. The ore is dug out and washed, and then for the most
part sent to Singapore to be smelted and reduced to the shape
in which it reaches our own country. Nearly half the world’s
supply of tin comes from this narrow strip of country; and we
may say that Malaya has been built up on tin, though now rubber
is rapidly overtaking it in value. The two together constitute
over nine-tenths of the total exports of the Federated States
and provide a large revenue for the Government to spend on
improvements.

The miner and artisan is nearly always a Chinese, so that at
the present time the Chinese in the Federated States actually
outnumber the natives. If we add the Indian coolies to the
Chinese, we find that out of a total population of about a
million, three-fifths are of foreign origin. This is how tin
and rubber are translated into terms of population. Outside
the Federated States we do not find the same proportions in
the population, though the geographical conditions are of much
the same kind. There is the same rice cultivation in the coast
plains; the same plantations of coconuts and rubber, though on a
smaller scale.

Trengganu has a considerable textile industry, while Kelantan
exports _sarongs_ to the neighbouring states. Tin also is
everywhere, and some gold; while Europeans are already mining,
prospecting and planting. The population of Kelantan is almost
entirely Malay, and the native element is stronger than the
Chinese all down the east coast. The whole region is rather more
primitive than the west side; the palace of the Sultan of 43
Kelantan, with its curious wooden palisade and guard of spearmen,
looks distinctly old-fashioned.

In short, eastern Malaya has been rather out of the world in the
past. The coast is difficult of access; the river mouths are
blocked with sandbars, and there is a continuous line of surf
in the months when the Northeast Monsoon is blowing. It lies,
too, out of the main track of shipping; so that we have a great
contrast to the sheltered waters of the Straits of Malacca, and
it is only natural that the country behind should be slower to
develop.

The most backward part is naturally the pathless jungle on
the mountains of the interior, which is still given up to 44
wild game and to the Sakai, naked savages living in rough
forest-shelters and armed with the blowpipe and poisoned dart.
These represent the lowest grade among the people of the
Peninsula. But development has begun in the east and the result
will be a change in the face of the country such as we have seen
in the west, brought about by the Chinese and Indians of the
mine and plantation, aided by European and Chinese capital, and
working under sound administration.

When we turn northwards from Singapore, on the way to China, we (2)
are entering a vast enclosed sea, cut off from the main Pacific
by a string of islands almost continuous for fifteen hundred
miles. In the northern part of this barrier there are a few
narrow passages; in the south the sea is shut in by the unbroken
barrier of the coast of Borneo. Some idea of the size of Borneo,
which is the largest island in the Malay Archipelago, can be
obtained if we compare it with our own islands, mapped on the 45
same scale. We shall find that Borneo can contain not only the
lands of the British Islands but a large part of the surrounding
seas and channels as well. The south and southeastern part of
this great island belongs to Holland, so that our visit will be
limited to the northern end; but even in this corner we find a
country as large as Ireland.

After a voyage of seven hundred miles across the southern end
of this enclosed sea, we are approaching the small island of
Labuan, which lies across the mouth of a broad inlet in the
larger island. In the latter part of our voyage we have sighted
land to the southeast, but this is not our destination, as it is
not British territory, though as regards foreign relations under
our protection. This land is the native state of Sarawak, which
is ruled autocratically by an Englishman, Sir Charles Brooke.
The origin of this State is one of the romances of the Pacific.
Seventy years ago James Brooke, uncle of the present ruler, made
a voyage through the South China Sea. He was specially attracted
by Borneo and saw that it might be wealthy and prosperous if only
it could be reclaimed from the misgovernment and barbarism of its
native rulers. The chance soon came to put his theories to the
test. Sarawak, then nominally part of the Sultanate of Brunei,
was in a state of rebellion, owing to the misrule of a local
chief. Brooke, with the crew of his yacht, helped the Rajah Muda,
Hassim, uncle of the Sultan of Brunei, to restore order; and as
a reward was made governor of Sarawak, in 1841. Thus the younger
son of an Indian Civil Servant became in a moment an Eastern
Potentate. Once established, Sir James Brooke, or Rajah Brooke as
he is better known to history, not only kept good order in his
own district but joined with the British navy in the suppression
of piracy in the neighbouring seas. As Brunei decayed, Sarawak
grew stronger. Its territory was enlarged from time to time and
its prosperity has proved the benefit derived by the native
inhabitants from strong and firm control.

An island rather larger than Guernsey, Labuan is the only British
territory, as opposed to a Protectorate, which we shall find
in this region. Rounding a headland we turn northwards into a
broad and deep inlet, and come to anchor opposite a small town
of white houses with red roofs and a background of low hills;
this is Victoria, the capital and only town. We may have time to
travel by the light railway to the coal mines at the other end
of the island, but we shall find nothing else to detain us, as
the country is mostly occupied by swamps and decayed villages.
The harbour and the coal: these two things explain why Labuan
is now a British Possession. Though it had been, for a short
time in the eighteenth century, a station of the East India
Company, it was unoccupied and seemingly of little value when
we acquired it from the Sultan of Brunei in 1846; but we looked
to its position on the flank of the great route to China, with
its excellent harbour and supplies of coal. It was thought by
some that the island would become a smaller Singapore, a port
of call for shipping and a collecting centre for the whole
mainland of Borneo. Labuan started with great expectations;
its history has been a series of disappointments. The coal
business failed from the first, while the transit trade did not
develop, and the reason is not far to seek. In spite of the
great natural resources of Borneo, there could be no progress in
trade until piracy and head-hunting had been suppressed and some
form of settled government introduced. Now that this has been
accomplished and the country is prospering and developing, the
mainland has its own seaports from which the goods are shipped
direct to Singapore or Hongkong, so that Labuan derives no
benefit.

Politically Labuan has had a varied career. In 1848, it was made
a Crown Colony, Sir James Brooke being the first Governor; later
it was handed over to the North Borneo Company to administer
for a time; and since 1907 it has been annexed to the Straits
Settlements. It has been eclipsed completely by its greater
neighbour.

If we cross the wide bay between the island and the mainland, we
shall get a glimpse of past history, and better appreciate the
reason for the failure of Labuan. At the southeast corner of the
bay we enter the Brunei river. The forest comes right down to
the river bank, and the trees appear to be growing in the water,
with a tangle of interlaced roots showing above the surface; we
are passing a swamp of mangroves, or _bakau_, as the natives call
the tree. Then the land begins to rise in low hills covered still
with forest, and the mangrove gives way to the coconut palm. We
pass native canoes with their double rows of paddles, and here
and there on the bank a group of native houses among the palms.
Finally we round a sharp bend in the river and come upon the 46
old native town of Brunei. It is a kind of eastern Venice,
with its houses built on piles driven into the mud, and its 47
streets all waterways. Here is one of these streets. In Brunei,
as all over Borneo, the bamboo, the palm and the creeping rattan
provide the builder with material free of charge for posts,
flooring, roofs and lashings--for the houses are tied, not nailed
together. There is fish in abundance in the river, and we pass
a fleet of market boats, with women in large sun hats, bringing 48
the catch for sale in the town; while in the forest all round
there is fruit to be had for the picking. Nature has supplied
the Malay with most of his necessaries at his very door.

Brunei has distinctly an air of decay. Centuries ago it was a
large city, the capital of a kingdom. It gave its name to the
whole island and its rulers extended their sway across the
neighbouring seas. Early voyagers from Europe seem to have been
much impressed by its barbaric magnificence. Now, all that
remains of a past empire is a small corner of territory, with
little trade or revenue, and ruled in name only by a petty chief.
Most of the territory shown on the old maps has been ceded to the
British North Borneo Company or to Sarawak. One local industry of
some importance Brunei still possesses; this is the working of
brass, particularly of brass gongs, which still pass as a kind of
currency in the interior. We can visit a whole village of 49
brassworkers, on a creek close by, and see them working in the
open air with primitive bellows made of bamboo, and producing
castings of old-fashioned design. This is merely a survival;
internal decay and attacks from outside have left Brunei only a
shadow of its former power. The trade with China and the Malay
Archipelago, which contributed to its former power, was destroyed
by the attacks of the fierce pirates from the islands to the
north; and British influence came too late to save the kingdom
from its own internal weakness; though, under the guidance of
British officials, and by the help of British capital, the
fragment which remains seems likely to recover some of its
prosperity.

Let us turn from Borneo of the past to Borneo of the future. We
are going to make a voyage round the territory of the British
North Borneo Company. Our trip will be limited to the coast
districts, as much of the interior is difficult to reach and
indeed not yet explored. First let us see what the map can tell
us about the country as a whole.

The Company’s territory is in the form of a rough quadrilateral, 50
with a coastline irregular and deeply indented by the sea.
Inland, but nearer to the west coast than the east, stretches a
long backbone of mountains; so that the rivers on the east side
are longer and the lowlands broader and flatter than on the west.
The Equator cuts Borneo almost in the middle, and the whole
island is truly tropical, though there are great differences
between the highlands and the lowlands. The lowlands are hot
all the year round, though the temperature is modified by the
rain and dense vegetation and the nearness of the sea; so that
the climate does not show the extremes of heat and the great
variation which we find in the dry region of Northwest India,
much further away from the Equator. Again, there are not two
strongly marked wet and dry seasons; rain falls more or less
in every month of the year, though spring and autumn are as a
rule the wettest seasons. A total annual fall of from ninety
to two hundred inches reminds us of the wetter parts of India
and the Malay Peninsula, and combined with unvarying heat does
not suggest a climate particularly adapted to occupation by the
white man. In spite of this drawback the country is in course of
development by British capital and under British direction. As an
estate it is increasing in value every year. We will now try to
see something of its products and people.

Seventy or eighty miles north of Labuan we enter another great
bay, with a small island at the entrance; the bay and island of
Gaya. On the south side of this bay is the town of Jesselton,
the western capital of the Territory and the terminus of the
only existing railway. Behind the town is hilly country, and as
we approach we may see in the distance, so far as clouds permit,
the great bulk of Mount Kinabalu, the highest part of the long
mountain chain of the interior. At Jesselton we find European
sports in progress and a mixed crowd is gathered: natives of
the coast region, largely of Malay blood, Sikhs and Pathans of
the Constabulary, with a few Chinese and the white officials.
In the town are the Malay houses built over the water, and near
them a row of Chinese shops; on the slopes above we see the 51
barracks, with the Constabulary at drill, and a few European
residences, with Government House overlooking all. At Jesselton
we have a picture in little of the conditions of the coast
districts.

Before exploring inland we will borrow the Government launch for
a short trip up the coast to Usikaan Bay. Here is a fine 52
portrait of our skipper. He is a typical coastman; his mother a
native of Brunei, his father from Sarawak. He is a Mohammedan,
like most of the coastmen, and is full of the lore and legend
of the island. We land at a little pier and enter a shed, which
is the Custom House. There is no sign of inhabitants, as the
building is used only when the local steamer calls to collect the
up-country produce. We have come here to look at the scenery,
not the people, so we climb the hill above the bay, from which
we can look down on the Abai river, flowing out beyond the next
headland. It is a typical Borneo river. On both banks is the
usual tropical swamp, and all around us is tropical vegetation.
Here we can see the wonderful Pitcher Plant of these regions, 53
though the finest specimens are to be found further inland
towards Mount Kinabalu. Turning away from the sea we have a
view of the long ridge of Kinabalu, with the upper part of 54
the Abai river in the foreground. From this outlook we can gain
a very fair idea of the character of tropical Borneo.

So far we have kept to the outer edge of the island; the railway
from Jesselton will carry us inland, though not very far, as it
runs on the whole parallel to the coast. The inland terminus of
the line is at Tenom, east of Brunei Bay and behind the coast
range of mountains. Here, too, native sports are in progress,
but they are a much more important business than at Jesselton;
they are announced months beforehand and provide a common
meeting-place for the many native tribes of the interior. The
contests are also especially fitted to the tastes and occupations
of the natives, so that we may learn much from them. The raft 55
race is one of the most popular, as the rivers are the only
means of traffic in the interior and the natives are skilled in
handling every form of river craft. Even more interesting to 56
us is the shooting match with the _sumpitan_, the long blowpipe
with poisoned darts which in this region takes the place of
the bow and arrow. Here we find this formidable weapon put to
a harmless use in shooting at the running deer; it is a kind
of native Bisley. The crowds of spectators show us every type
of native face and dress. Here is a group of Muruts with 57
_sumpitans_, and here are some visitors, Sea Dyaks from 58
Sarawak, whose name is associated with piracy and head-hunting.
The Muruts seem to be the aborigines of this part of the
interior; they are unlike the coast people in appearance and they
are pagans, not Mohammedans; but they share with the Sea Dyaks
their liking for head-hunting, and would soon revive the practice
were British control removed.

In the neighbourhood of the railway we begin to find evidence
of the progress of Borneo. One of the most successful crops is
tobacco. Before it can be planted there is much work to be done.
The jungle must first be attacked and rough roads driven through
with ditches at the side for drainage in the heavy rains. Here we
see the work of clearing in progress. Then wide spaces must be 59
prepared for planting, and at length we get our crop. The leaves 60
are then picked by coolies and carried in curious baskets to the
drying and fermenting sheds for further treatment before they
become the tobacco leaf of commerce.

We will now return to Jesselton and resume our voyage. A short
way up the coast we leave the steamer and take to a boat; we
are going up a small river to attend a _tanu_ or local market,
in order to see something more of native life. We call on the
District Officer at his house and accompany him in his barge of
state to the market. Here a crowd of natives waits for the 61
hoisting of a little flag, the signal that they may begin their
bargaining. They have brought down the produce of the interior,
resins, gums and tobacco, to sell to the Chinese dealers; in
return their favourite purchase is brass. There is also a great
buying and selling of fish and fruit. Here we see a native 62
woman of the hill tribes carrying a large crate and wearing great
coils of brass wire round her waist. The husband stands by and
looks on, as is usual here, where the women do most of the heavy
work.

Once more we board the steamer, and after touching at Kudat, a
fine harbour in the great bay at the north end of the island,
turn southward towards Sandakan, the capital of the Territory,
where we shall end our voyage. On the deck of the little vessel
is a crowd of Chinese coolies. The Chinese are the real workers
on all the coasts of North Borneo, just as we found them in
the Malay Peninsula. We reach Sandakan, which stands on a 63
splendid bay running fifteen miles up into the land. The entrance
is only two miles wide, so that the bay is almost landlocked.
Down at the water’s edge is the native town, with many of the
houses built on piles; here too is the Chinese quarter, and
scattered about further up a wooded slope are the houses of the
Europeans. All round the sides of the harbour are smaller native
villages.

Sandakan will probably in the future become an important
commercial seaport, especially in view of its position on
the route between Australia and China. It already boasts a
shipbuilding and engineering yard, and a cutch factory which
sends its products for tanning all over the world. Here also we
may notice timber being floated down in great rafts for export,
especially to China. Not far away up the river is one of the
oldest rubber estates on the island. Borneo produces many kinds
of plants giving rubber or gutta, but it has been found that
the Para rubber tree of Brazil grows well, and there is a great
future for its cultivation here as in the Malay Peninsula.

_Copyright._) (_See page 95._

SUMPITAN MATCH.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 91._

MARKET BOATS, BRUNEI.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 91._

A STREET IN BRUNEI.]

The East India Company made many attempts to establish factories
in Borneo and the neighbouring islands; but all came to
nothing, so that the early history does not concern us here.
One trace of former conditions remained in the nineteenth
century, in the claims of Holland in the south of the island and
of Spain in the north. These claims were revived at the time
of our occupation and were not finally settled until the late
eighties of the nineteenth century. The modern history of the
region begins with the acquisition, by an American syndicate,
of certain concessions in the north from the Sultans of Brunei
and Sulu. Their rights were taken over ultimately by a British
company which obtained a charter from the Crown, in 1881, under
the title of the British North Borneo Company. The charter was a
revival of the old plan for opening up new countries without the
direct intervention or responsibility of the home Government.
It was followed by other charters for African companies; but of
these only one survives, and the North Borneo Company is at the
present day the oldest remaining representative of the system.
So we have a large piece of territory under British Protection
but controlled by a private company. The Company does not trade,
but confines itself to administration, and is supported like any
other Government by duties and taxes of various kinds. It is
largely independent, though the British Government can interfere
if necessary in vital matters.

Malaya and Borneo are tropical estates and can only be developed
by special methods. In dealing with these estates we have given
considerable space to the subject of administration, since
without order and security it is impossible to utilize those
natural resources with which our geography is concerned. These
resources include the minerals and the whole range of tropical
products, together with the available human material, the Chinese
or Indian labourer and the native Malay. Foreign capital, British
or Chinese, under British direction provides the driving force
for progress. In the different parts of the Malay Peninsula and
in North Borneo we have various types of administration and
various stages of progress; but over the whole area there is a
general similarity of conditions which marks it off both from the
Indian Ocean and from the Chinese group which is the object of
our next visit.

LECTURE VI

THE CHINESE STATIONS

Fifteen hundred miles away from Singapore, guarding the northern
outlet of the China Sea as Singapore guards the southern,
commanding also the approach to the great commercial city of
Canton and to the whole coastline of southeastern China, lies 1
the island harbour of Hongkong, the last fortified outpost of
British power in this region of the world. The island is only
one of a large group which fringes the coast round the mouth
of the Canton river, and its area is less than thirty square
miles, or nearly the same as that of Labuan. It consists of a 2
long irregular granite ridge, falling steeply to the sea,
with deep-cut inlets on its southern side. To the north is
the mainland, with long hill ranges ending in a mass of rocky
peninsulas and headlands. Between the island and the mainland
lies the narrow roadstead or harbour of Victoria.

As we round the west point of the island, the Peak is on our
right, and below it are warehouses, wharves and piers, spread
out for three miles along the water front. Behind is the crowded
native quarter, and in the background the city rises in tier
above tier of terraced houses up the lower slopes of the ridge.
On the summit, too, we can see many houses scattered about. 3
Here is a panoramic view of the west end of the city, taken from
the harbour. Notice the fine pile of offices and the European
Club in the foreground of the picture. Our next view, further 4
east, shows the Admiralty dockyard, which makes an ugly break
in the line of the sea front. The white band on the hill behind
is the cable railway running up to the Peak. We pass merchant
steamers, warships, and crowds of junks at anchor, and all about
us the small native boats or _sampans_ are plying busily to and
fro. Opposite the middle of the town, where the low peninsula of
Kaulun juts out from the mainland, the harbour narrows to rather
more than half a mile, and here is the ferry. On our left as we
enter is Stonecutter Island, a long bare rock heavily fortified
and guarding the passage; beyond it to the north the view is
everywhere closed in by the mountain ridges of the mainland. 5
Here are two views from the hill, showing the west end of the 6
harbour, with Stonecutter Island and Kaulun; a third shows the 7
eastern passage, known as the _Lai-i-mun_, by which we shall
leave after our visit.

Seventy years ago Hongkong was a mere rock, inhabited by a few
fishermen; its sole value lay in its anchorage beyond the reach
of Chinese troops. For two centuries the East India Company had
traded on sufferance at Canton, but in 1834 its trade monopoly
was abolished and the servants of the Company gave place to a
British official. The Chinese failed to understand the change;
they wished to treat our representative just as they had treated
the merchants. In the end the foreign community was forced to
leave Canton, and we despatched an armed expedition to support
our claim to trade and to place the interests of British subjects
on a secure footing. The war which followed is often styled the
opium war; but the opium trade was only one item in the quarrel
which involved recognition by the Chinese of international
relations.

Our merchants, driven from Canton, and warned off from Macao
by the Portuguese, who feared the Chinese and were jealous of
our trade, took refuge in the roadstead of Hongkong, though
the Chinese placed batteries on Kaulun and threatened to fire
on the ships. In this way we first came to the island, which
was ceded to us by the Treaty of Nanking in 1842. In 1860, at
the conclusion of another war, we obtained full possession 8
of the Kaulun peninsula, which we had already leased from the
local authorities as being necessary for the security of the
harbour. Finally, in 1898, we leased the New Territory at the
back of Kaulun, amounting in area to about 370 square miles.
This was just as necessary under present conditions as the
peninsula of Kaulun had been in the past, since Victoria with
its shipping would be at the mercy of long-range artillery
mounted on the hills of the mainland. From the first the Chinese
people, recognizing the value of the security given by British
rule, flocked to the island; so that we now have over 300,000
Chinese residents in the island and peninsula, excluding the
leased Territory, and on the native boats and junks, while the
European population numbers only a few thousand. The Chinese
seem to prefer our system of government to their own. Hongkong
is not merely a fortress; it is a free port, except as regards
the importation of alcohol, and one of the greatest commercial
centres in the world; but without the Chinese its trade could not
be carried on for a single day.

Let us now land and learn something of the city and its 9
inhabitants. We stroll along Queen’s Road, the main artery of
the town from west to east, with its offices and shops and its
general air of prosperity. Then we turn off into a street running
upwards from the harbour; it is Pottinger Street, named after 10
Sir Henry Pottinger, the trainer of the treaty of 1842. The
tall houses and narrow roadway remind us that there is very
little level ground in Victoria and that space is valuable. We
could judge this also from the general views of the Peak which
we saw as we entered. Trade needs money, and there are various
banks in the city; one of the finest buildings is that of the
Hongkong and Shanghai Bank, which is well known in England and
has a large branch in London. If we go into one of these banks
we find that many of the clerks and cashiers are native Chinese.
Here is the entrance to the Hongkong and Shanghai bank and 11
here is the back of the great block of fine buildings. The statue
in the corner is that of the late Queen Victoria, and the 12
figures in the foreground are Chinese women carrying pigs in
baskets. The whole of this area, with its open spaces, including
a cricket ground, and the mass of buildings which we saw from the
harbour, has been reclaimed from the sea. In one of the narrow
streets we may see something of native customs. It is New 13
Year’s Day, a great festival among the Chinese; all over the
ground there is a litter of crackers, and we may perhaps see them
solemnly firing a huge cracker in front of some important house
as a kind of New Year’s greeting. At a corner we come on a scene
which reminds us of London: the road is up and labourers are 14
at work, but here they are Chinese. Down on the water front is
another aspect of native life. Here we have a large population 15
living always in covered boats; there are millions of Chinese
living in this fashion on the rivers and waterways of the
mainland.

To see how the Europeans live we must leave the busier part
of the town and climb up the hill. Down below, in the native
quarter, the houses are crowded together and the air is close.
Higher up are trees and gardens and open spaces. Here is a 16
view from Battery Path, on our way up. We end our walk at 17
Government House, where we see the inevitable Chinese gardener at
work.

To get a view of the island we must take the cable railway to the
very summit of the Peak. It is much cooler here and there are
many European houses. Hongkong is on the edge of the Tropics and
is wet and warm in summer, while the town of Victoria is shut off
from the sea breezes by the surrounding heights. But the upper
part of the ridge is open to the Southeast Monsoon winds blowing
in from the sea, and so it is a healthy residence for Europeans
not unlike the hill stations of India.

In the matter of health, the island in past years had not a
good name. On the southeast coast is Stanley, a primitive 18
little village on a beautiful bay; here is the spot where the
British troops first landed in 1840. Further west, behind a
sheltering island, is Aberdeen, which was also occupied for a
time. But both were found to be unhealthy and so the troops
were withdrawn. Stanley is a mere fishing village, though the
graves of the soldiers and their wives are there to remind us
of the price which we pay for our Empire. Aberdeen is a little
more important, as it possesses a dock. But its main industry
is fishing; and here we can see the fishermen, watched by an 19
admiring crowd, dragging out a large rock fish, which will be
towed alive, behind a launch, to the market at Victoria. The
mass of the population of the island is concentrated in Victoria,
which is greatly overcrowded. Much has been done for health by
improved drainage, and the great reservoir at Taitam, in the
southeast corner of the island, with the concrete channels for
gathering the heavy rains on the hill slopes, provides an ample
supply of good water; but the Chinese have peculiar ideas as to
sanitation, and plague and epidemic diseases are frequent, so
that Hongkong has drawbacks as a place of residence, especially
for European children. Though the hill is cooler than the town,
it is damp, so that many prefer the drier Kaulun district on the
other side of the water. Here a new Victoria is growing up with
busy wharves and docks. Land is being reclaimed from the sea, 20
and in the surrounding hills we find granite quarries with 21
abundant material for the building of docks and sea walls.
On a small hill near the landing stands a curious tower, with
masts and flag-staffs around it. This is the observatory, 22
which watches the weather and especially gives warning of the
approach of the dreaded typhoons of the China seas. These are
fierce whirling storms which sweep in, usually in the autumn,
from the ocean to the south-east, and then curve northwards
along the coast of China towards Japan, carrying ruin in their
track. In 1906, the warning failed to come: many large steamers
were sunk or driven ashore; trees were rooted up and buildings
beaten to the ground, and enormous damage was done to the piers
and quays on the water-front. Here is the signal which is 23
hoisted to give notice of the coming of a typhoon.

Behind Kaulun is the New Territory: a land of mountain and
torrent, with here and there a broader valley with fields of
rice and sugar-cane. Here we see some of these rice fields 24
on the route of the new railway. Notice how the ground is 25
flooded. The population, about 100,000 in all, is not very dense
and is grouped in scattered villages. Here is a view of the
picturesque country at the back of Kaulun, with a cattle 26
depôt in the foreground to remind us that the city must be fed
from the surrounding country. Here again we see a street in 27
Tai-wo-shi and a group of villagers gathered round the village
well. Let us pay a short visit to Wun-yin, or “Pottery” village, 28
for a glimpse of a native industry. We see a potter at work, 29
painting the little bowls, but he does not look quite the same
as the ordinary Chinese of the south. He is a _Hakka_, as is 30
also this native woman, who does not seem in the least nervous
in front of the camera. Neither is handsome, but they are very
useful in Hongkong, since they do much of the hard manual work
which is necessary in a great port. The _Hakkas_ are immigrants,
of a different race from the natives of the Canton district, and
they have different habits. Among other peculiarities they do not
bind the feet of their women.

In the New Territory we are already changing the face of the
country. Water is being impounded in great reservoirs for the 31
supply of Kaulun, and a railway twists and burrows through the
valleys and mountains, and connects at the frontier with the
Chinese railway to Canton. So the Territory has a future of its
own, but its real importance is as a protecting barrier to the
harbour of Hongkong.

Hongkong is an excellent instance of the attraction which a
free port, under a Government which gives security for life
and property, and deals out even-handed justice, has for an
industrious native race. The liberality with which the wealthier
Chinese support public objects in Hongkong, such as schools and
hospitals, is the best proof that they appreciate the methods and
value of British rule.

The close connexion which has always been maintained between
Canton and Hongkong, and the fact that the British Concession at
Canton is an interesting survival from an earlier stage of our
relations with China, justify us in paying a flying visit to that
city before continuing our voyage northwards. So we board one of
the small local steamers and pass up the broad river, with the
old forts on its banks, which more than once have been bombarded
by our fleets, until the growing crowd of native shipping tells
as that we are approaching the great commercial city. Here are 32
junks and sampans packed together or moving slowly about the
river, and huge shallow-draught steamers, resembling pictures
of the old boats on the Mississippi, fifty years ago. We land
at last on the Shameen, the British settlement outside the 33
walls. It was originally a mere mud bank, facing the main river
and protected by a narrow creek at the back. Now it is laid 34
out as a European town, with open spaces, a church, and 35
European houses and gardens. Here is a view of the creek 36
with the English bridge. Across the creek is a Chinese suburb,
thickly packed with native houses, and beyond are the high
walls of the vast city with its million of turbulent people.
We cross the bridge and make our way to the massive gates; if
we are wise we shall take a guide with us. From the top of the
old wall we look down over a sea of roofs, with here and there
a fire lookout or a huge building, a pawnshop, showing above
the general level. Hidden below is a mass of narrow and winding
streets, and far away, in the very midst of the city, towers 37
the great Flowery Pagoda. Just below it is a building which we
must visit, the old British Yamen, at one time the residence of
our officials, though they now prefer the greater comfort of the
Shameen. Here, in the heart of Canton, in the former palace of a
high Chinese official, we established a British representative.
It was a great change from the days when British merchants
carried subservient messages to the city gates and the Chinese
refused to interview or in any way recognize British officials.
This interesting building is of great significance in the history
of our relations with the great Empire of the East. Here are two 38
views of the Yamen; we seem to be very much in the heart of 39
China.

Canton has, to some extent, lost its former importance for us,
and its merchants no longer have the monopoly of the whole
external trade of China; so we return to Hongkong without further
delay, and rejoining our ship steam out through the narrow
eastern passage, the _Lai-i-mun_, and turn northwards on our
voyage.