On Far Malayan Shores

by Tara Haigh

  ‘Have a safe journey, and write to me as soon as you can,’ she called after the departing coach. She kept waving until they turned onto the main road that led to the harbour.

  Rudolf was silent, which Ella was grateful for, as during the journey her emotional carousel had whirred into action once more.

  ‘You’ve brought more luggage than I have,’ declared Rudolf abruptly after a while, just to break the silence. He had only one normal-sized and one small suitcase with him. Ella’s bags were significantly bigger and heavier, as he couldn’t have helped but notice while loading up the coach.

  ‘The books alone take up so much space,’ explained Ella.

  By the time they reached the harbour, however, she realised that with Rudolf present, her plans to study might not be viable. His effusive chatter about the foreign lands they would see was infectious, and he had extensive plans to explore unfamiliar cultures – all of which ensured that her excitement once again gained the upper hand, for now.

  ‘The Danzig will be sure to stop in Spain or Portugal. We can take a look around when it does. Lisbon is meant to be very interesting, and so are the Greek islands. Delightful and idyllic, I’ve been told.’

  ‘Will we even be allowed to leave the steamer? The Danzig isn’t just a passenger ship after all,’ Ella pointed out.

  ‘Yes, that’s true, but it’s a very luxurious vessel. We’ll benefit from the fact that it’s relatively small. The crew will have to stop more often to take on coal, which means more opportunities to go ashore,’ reasoned Rudolf.

  ‘Small? On the high seas?’ Ella could recall her father’s stories all too well. ‘Small’ meant having to pray every day that they wouldn’t encounter a heavy swell.

  ‘If we were sailing around the Cape of Good Hope, there would be cause for concern – however, the North Sea and the Mediterranean are relatively calm at this time of year. There’s no need to worry.’ Those words were anything but reassuring, coming from the lips of a landlubber. The Mediterranean in particular could be treacherous, not to mention the strong winds of the Indian Ocean. As the daughter of a seaman, she was well aware of all this.

  Yet Ella forgot her concerns once the coach reached the end of the landing stage where the Danzig was moored. ‘Small’ was a relative word. Ella guessed that the steamer was over six hundred feet long, and at least sixty feet wide. ‘Imposing’ was a more accurate description, and with four funnels, Ella assumed that the engine would be powerful enough to cope with even rough seas – a triple-expansion steam engine that could achieve speeds of up to thirteen knots. Rudolf had apparently done a lot of research.

  The landing stage was a busy place, with a few dozen passengers bustling around the foot of the lowered gangplank. Their clothing made it possible to guess who was booked into first, second and third class. Even from a distance, there were two carriages that didn’t look as though they were for public hire, and a remarkably well-dressed coachman opened the door of one of them to reveal a smartly dressed man who would no doubt be joining them in first class. The coachman unloaded five suitcases, while the passenger – who was in his mid-forties and had a thick beard and round belly – smoothed down his blond hair, which the wind had whipped into disarray.

  The second-class passengers were just as easy to spot. The men wore suits, and there were two women wearing tailored dresses and fashionable hats. However, the majority of the passengers gradually filtering onto the ship looked like the people Ella knew from Hamburg’s tenements: men in simple jackets and woollen trousers, which neither fit properly nor matched each other in colour. After all, what worker could afford to buy a tailored suit? The few women were clad in the plain white dresses typical of the working classes. Some of them also wore aprons and headscarves. Their leather cases looked worn, and a few of them only carried wicker baskets – presumably because they couldn’t afford to buy suitcases made of decent leather. They would be travelling below deck, in cabins that they would have to share with other people. Ella immediately felt guilty. As a mere hospital attendant, she really ought to be putting up with similarly humble conditions herself. The question of why this wasn’t the case began to gnaw at her once more.

  ‘Look at all the luggage the people are bringing with them,’ marvelled Rudolf, interrupting Ella’s thoughts.

  Whatever it was, the crew carried it aboard – all of them young men in white sailors’ uniforms. They took charge of Rudolf and Ella’s cases too, once Ella had shown them their tickets. It was time to bid farewell to Hamburg – to her old home, but also to her professional dreams. That was a bitter pill. Yet her excitement at the journey outweighed the resulting melancholy. Ella was also glad that her mother had decided not to accompany them to the harbour. Wherever she looked, she saw floods of tears; the passionate embraces of fathers clinging to their children or saying farewell to their wives. She was deeply touched at the sight. Her own mother had pulled herself together valiantly that morning and managed not to cry, though it perhaps wasn’t surprising, considering how many tears she had shed the night before, that she had none left when the time came to say goodbye the following day – especially when the parting wouldn’t be forever.

  The ship’s horn sounded and a visible sense of unease instantly took hold of the passengers, and of Ella too.

  ‘Mr and Mrs von Stetten?’ asked the sailor on the steps leading up to the access hatch. That had a nice ring to it, but Ella corrected him. They evidently looked like a married couple to other people.

  ‘Oh . . . I beg your pardon,’ came the prompt apology once the sailor had read the second ticket.

  Rudolf laughed it off and ostentatiously extended his arm to escort her up the stairs.

  Ella remained silent for a moment and considered turning round to take one last look at her home – but then dismissed the thought. It would only make the parting more painful, and would not be in the true spirit of her journey. After all, she wasn’t emigrating to America, and one didn’t stop to look back when boarding a train either.

  Rudolf, being a true gentleman, offered the bigger cabin to the lady – although strictly speaking, ‘cabin’ was an understatement. ‘Elegant apartment’ would have been a more accurate description, and not just because Ella had never sat in such comfortable chairs before. There were fine fabrics as far as the eye could see, from the curtains to the upholstery. The floral patterns matched the deep-pile carpet and the fine porcelain platter laden with fresh fruit. Even the washbasin was adorned with flowers – an arrangement of amaryllis and roses with ornamental grasses, whose sweet scent filled the cabin. It would be easy to get used to all this, although the obsequious ‘Certainly, madam’ from the cabin boy might take a little longer. Being addressed like that made Ella feel completely out of place.

  She had just decided to test out the bed when she felt a fierce rumble emanating from the heart of the ship and the floor began to vibrate gently. The captain must have given the order to set sail.

  Immediately, there was a knock at the cabin door. Ella called for Rudolf to come in. He had already told her that he wanted to be on deck with her when the ship left port.

  ‘Aren’t the cabins splendid? But we need to hurry. We can toast the start of our great expedition in the bar afterwards.’ Rudolf’s high spirits were unwavering, and he invited her to take his arm. Ella did so as soon as they left the cabin.

  Just then, the door of the neighbouring cabin opened and out came the well-fed man whom she had noticed on the pier. He smiled at them winningly.

  ‘Well, we’re off. All hands on deck!’ he called without ceremony, and Ella instantly warmed to him. Old money didn’t talk like that – in other words, he couldn’t be an aristocrat or a person of rank. He must be a prosperous businessman, and a friendly one at that. Already, he was extending his hand in greeting.

  ‘Otto Ludwig,’ he said by way of introduction.

  ‘Ella Kaltenbach.’ She shook his hand. Then it was her companion’s turn: ‘Rudolf von Stetten.’

&n
bsp; Otto looked confused. Like the sailor earlier, he must have been expecting them to share a surname.

  ‘My fiancée,’ added Rudolf.

  Ella did her best to conceal her surprise. At any rate, Rudolf’s bold approach had an immediate effect. Otto’s face relaxed noticeably.

  ‘What a lovely couple,’ he answered, as he made his way towards the steps leading to the upper deck. It sounded as though he had said it to himself, although in the knowledge that they could both hear him.

  ‘Are we engaged now?’ asked Ella with a grin.

  ‘No, but now nobody will ask any stupid questions. We’ll be taken more seriously as a couple, and none of the sailors or officers will pursue you either.’ It would have been foolish to argue.

  ‘What if somebody asks to see my engagement ring?’

  Rudolf nodded thoughtfully, since Ella’s objection likewise admitted no argument.

  ‘I’m afraid that problem may not be so easy to solve at short notice. Perhaps at the first stop? There’ll be a jewellery shop in every city.’

  ‘But what will we do until then? Hide in your cabin? I suppose I could wear gloves.’ Ella enjoyed goading Rudolf, as he knew that she wasn’t being serious.

  ‘I would prefer the first option.’ Ella forgave Rudolf his immoral proposal, as he clearly had his tongue firmly in his cheek.

  ‘We aren’t quite married yet, my dear Rudolf,’ she retorted archly.

  ‘All right then, gloves it is. How unromantic,’ he replied, feigning a hangdog expression.

  ‘As it happens, you’re in luck – I happen to have a ring with me that is big enough to serve as an engagement ring for a first-class passenger. Nobody will know that the diamond is really just paste,’ Ella clarified.

  ‘How I would love to give you a real diamond ring.’ Rudolf smiled.

  Ella was relieved that the ship’s horn sounded just then, and another passenger hurried out of one of the rearmost cabins. She merely gave a broad smile by way of response.

  Even after over a week at sea, Ella still hadn’t tired of going on deck just before dinner to take a short stroll and gaze out at the horizon. Around that time, most of the first-class passengers were still in their cabins smartening themselves up – one of the disadvantages of believing oneself to be a member of the upper classes. Ella had only two evening dresses, which made the decision easy for her.

  The passengers in second and third class didn’t need to worry about that sort of thing. They much preferred to stroll casually along the deck, or sit in the wicker chairs and enjoy the remaining warmth of the day. Rudolf would also join them, and usually fell asleep whenever he did so. Shortly after sunset, a soothing twilight would descend over the sea and there was no better backdrop for allowing one’s thoughts to roam freely. The half-light receded into the distance, giving a feeling of peace and serenity. Father had often spoken of this. Ella was beginning to fall in love with the sea, just like her father had.

  Here on deck, she could think of him – feel close to him – without having to brood over the turmoil of the days before her departure or feel his loss as painfully as she had until very recently. Did time really heal all wounds so quickly? At any rate, Ella wondered what had happened to the last few days. She still hadn’t read a single one of her books. Time seemed to slip through your fingers here, not least thanks to the ship’s catering, which served six meals each day – three large, and three small. Yet there was more to it than simply stuffing one’s face. One fell into conversation, made introductions, talked about everything under the sun. Because every passenger had a different reason for undertaking the long journey and a different destination, the topics for discussion seemed inexhaustible. In the end, she spent most of her time at sociable gatherings in the dining hall or the tea room or, in the evening, playing chess and nine men’s morris and listening to the ship’s band – an ensemble of three talented sailors. On two occasions, Rudolf had even persuaded her to join in the morning gymnastics classes on deck, which had been surprisingly varied. Distraction also came in the form of occasional views of the countries and coastlines they passed – though only the white chalk cliffs of Dover in the English Channel had impressed Ella, as the Danzig had sailed close enough to them for the passengers to admire them in all their glory. The greater distances to the Dutch, French, Spanish and Portuguese coasts made it impossible to experience them in as intense a manner. The land masses lying in the mist appeared taller, flatter or greener by intervals, but were often nothing more than a diffuse grey line.

  Yet it wasn’t just the daily routine that rendered her plans for self-improvement impossible. Long sea voyages evidently sent all good intentions out of the window – including Ella’s plans to read her medical books. She simply couldn’t summon the necessary motivation. She couldn’t even rouse herself to write a letter to her mother, which she had intended to send the next time they stopped at a port – let alone record her recollections of the journey, or take advantage of the extensive on-board library to learn about the countries and cultures that the ship was steaming towards. She managed to read only rarely – usually just before she fell asleep under the dim light of her bedside lamp. Ella’s explanation for it was the endless vista of the sea, which changed constantly according to the weather, and practically chained her to the railings. Likewise, the rhythmic rolling of the ship’s hull over the waves seemed to gradually lull her to sleep, lifting all pressures from her mind. The monotonous rumble from the engine room and the salty sea air also played their part. Soon enough, she grew accustomed to idleness and was inclined to postpone all plans until the following day – after all, the journey was long enough.

  ‘I’ll be as round as a pufferfish by the time we get to Malacca,’ sighed Rudolf, who had suddenly appeared beside her at the railing. He seemed to have got used to the on-board routines too, and you could already plan your day around him: when he woke up from his nap, that meant it was time for dinner. Ella was also worried that she would soon be unable to fit into her dresses, but there was scarcely anyone on board who could resist the delicious fare. Just like every evening, the waiter presented her with a menu printed especially on board the Danzig, complete with ornamental lettering, and here too, there was no shortage of variety: chicken soup with rice, almond-crusted fish, beef fillet – which was called ‘chateaubriand’ in elevated circles – mixed vegetables, beef tongue in red wine sauce, roast turkey, mixed salad. And for dessert: strawberries, vanilla pudding with hot raspberries, croquembouche with ice cream, fruit, small French pastries, and coffee.

  ‘With so many wonderful things to eat, it’s hard to know where to start,’ Ella confessed once they had sat down at their usual table in first class.

  Their surroundings also reflected the price they had paid for their journey. The furniture was made from elegant tropical woods, two chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the table was adorned with the finest porcelain. To avoid having to resist the temptations on the menu, Ella persuaded herself that choosing between all these delicious dishes must take up at least as much energy as the gymnastics class, even if it were only mental energy. Or perhaps the sea air simply increased her appetite?

  ‘They really know how to pamper a person here,’ remarked Otto, her cabin neighbour, who clearly hadn’t been one to pass up a good meal even before the voyage, judging by the way his belly strained against his black tailcoat. He had sought out their company from the very first evening. Otto Ludwig was indeed a businessman, and was one of the few passengers who would be accompanying them all the way to Malacca. Apparently, the only other people who would be disembarking in Penang were third-class passengers – seamen who would be taking up duty aboard another steamship in the imperial fleet. Besides, Otto was certainly far warmer and wittier than the dreary civil servants from second class who were on their way to China, and who had also sought out their company from time to time.

  ‘That gentleman seems a little intrusive to me,’ Rudolf had discreetly whispered to her in a private m
oment on the first evening; however, he had quickly dismissed his initial reservations when he learned that Otto did business with both the Malays and the British. He traded in rubber, buying it at source, and seemed to know everyone who was anyone in Malacca, which had made Rudolf warm to him. Ella hoped he would be able to help them in the search for her real father, but she hadn’t come up with a credible pretext to ask him for assistance. Telling him the truth would have given the impression that she was trying to hunt down a wealthy parent. That was Rudolf’s view, anyway, and Ella couldn’t dismiss it out of hand. But all in good time. There was no shortage of conversation topics when Otto was around, anyway. Today, they had an obvious subject to discuss, since the heavy swell coming in from the Atlantic had caused many passengers to excuse themselves from the evening dinner. Peering over the partition of their private area, they could see that the large dining hall was half empty.

  ‘There’s nothing worse than seasickness,’ Rudolf asserted confidently, since he had once crossed the English Channel in rough seas.

  ‘People make the mistake of eating too little. The best thing to do is to eat rich, fatty foods, and ideally keep to the middle of the ship.’ Otto, who had already made several journeys to Malacca, surprised even Ella with his theory. ‘Earlier, on the old steamships, I would always get seasick. But that wasn’t due to the swell; rather, it was the unfortunate mixture of kitchen smells, engine exhaust fumes and stuffy cabins. On this ship, everything is in perfect order. One of the most comfortable voyages money can buy,’ he continued. Otto clearly enjoyed his role as a worldly businessman, and doubtless possessed an impressive fund of general knowledge.

  ‘That might only be true of the first-class cabins – though the Lloyd certainly commands a high price for those,’ objected Rudolf.