On Far Malayan Shores

by Tara Haigh

  ‘We have to assume that he’s rich, and owns a plantation . . .’ Otto was lost in thought for a moment.

  ‘But which plantation? What do people grow here in the south?’ asked Rudolf.

  ‘If he’s wealthy, we can discount everything other than palm oil or rubber. There’s plenty of money to be made here with tin too, but you won’t find that on a plantation. Besides, the profitable tin mines are all in the north of Malacca. In any case, I would start by looking for people who cultivate rubber trees locally,’ Otto advised.

  ‘What makes you rule out palm oil?’ Ella enquired.

  ‘Because the big rubber plantations are here in the south. There are admittedly a few small palm oil plantations around these parts too, but they aren’t as big or as profitable as those elsewhere,’ he explained.

  ‘I’m not sure I follow you entirely. Why do you think it was somebody from the south?’ Rudolf put Ella’s thoughts into words.

  ‘Your journey began as an infant at the port of Singapore. Firstly, the large monthly payments prove that he’s a wealthy man, so we need only consider large and lucrative plantations. Secondly, we need to look at plantations in the south of Malacca, most likely between Singapore and Johore, since I can’t imagine that anybody would take a newborn baby on a journey of several days across Malacca purely to give the child away in Singapore. He could easily have done it in Penang, or in Trengganu on the east coast. So the plantation can’t be too far away from the port here.’

  ‘Most impressive. You would have made an excellent detective,’ said Rudolf admiringly, without a trace of irony.

  ‘I’ll ask my trade contacts first thing tomorrow. The rubber buyers know almost every supplier there is, and I can’t think there would be all that many families with surnames beginning with F who cultivate rubber in the south. If you like, I can also recommend a very nice boarding house in Johore. You’ll get to the plantations quicker from there.’

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ said Ella from the bottom of her heart.

  ‘If I’m entirely honest, I’d be just as interested to know about my own origins,’ said Otto, speaking more to himself as he gazed through the palm trees out to sea.

  Otto’s encouragement washed Ella’s final nagging doubts into the ocean. Yet the prospect that she might soon come face-to-face with her natural father was still a source of fear. What sane person would be determined to make acquaintance with the devil?

  Although Ella couldn’t recall ever having slept in such a comfortable bed, and despite the luxuriousness of her room, she had only managed to get a few hours’ sleep – and not just because of the heat, which even an electric fan mounted on the ceiling failed to dispel. Ironically, she could have enjoyed a long lie-in, since Otto could hardly be expected to return from the city with news that morning. There would even have been enough time for a leisurely breakfast with Rudolf, if he weren’t still asleep. Ella therefore decided to postpone breakfast and walk down to the beach for a short stroll, so that she could digest her initial impressions of Singapore and take in some new ones. The air was pleasantly cool in the morning; the heat of the sun was already making itself felt, but the air was free of its usual stuffy humidity. Small canoes floated along the shore past Raffles, reminding Ella of the poster she had seen by the office of the North German Lloyd. Malayan men really did wear nothing more than knee-length strips of fabric wrapped around their hips, while the ‘skirts’ worn by humble fishermen were even shorter. Two of the seamen smiled warmly and waved to her as they drifted past. They were young men and they outright stared at her – yet their gaze was not importunate; rather, she felt it was more the fact that the sight of a white woman must still seem rather exotic to them, despite their colonial rulers having lived in the region for many years. Ella took this encounter to be a warm welcome, and it strengthened her resolve to press on with her search for an unknown person in a completely foreign land. Yet for that, she needed Otto’s help. It wouldn’t do any good to present her case to the local police. After all, what evidence did she have beyond the confession of a dead man and a few bank statements?

  Returning to the hotel, Ella decided to drink a cup of coffee on the terrace, and she selected a shady spot to sit. An Indian servant in a white uniform appeared instantly. At the next table, two Chinese men wearing resplendent outfits and with bare heads were sitting opposite a man in a white tropical jacket. They were drinking tea, and one of them held some documents in his hand. Businesspeople, no doubt. One never saw such exotic-looking figures in Hamburg, nor did anyone ever conduct their business in the open air – let alone in such a sweet-smelling ambience. Singapore seemed to be one big bottle of perfume, from both the blossom of countless plants and the tempting culinary aromas that had already begun drifting towards her from the many portable food stands. It was an intoxicating combination, and she had hardly seen anything of Farther India yet. Ella wished that the reason for her visit could be different. The heart-pounding unease she had felt on the previous day re-emerged suddenly when she spotted Otto. He had returned much sooner than anticipated and she had only just finished her coffee and eaten a pastry.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Ella.’ Otto’s cheerful mood and broad smile couldn’t be solely attributable to the beautiful morning, but surely had something to do with the document case he was carrying.

  ‘Good morning, my dear Otto. I didn’t expect to see you back before lunch,’ Ella admitted. ‘Did you manage to find anything out?’

  Otto nodded cheerfully and sat down beside her.

  ‘As I suspected, it was a good idea to visit the suppliers,’ he said, opening the leather case in front of her. A handwritten list and a map immediately sprang into view.

  ‘I don’t want to build your hopes up too much, as I’ve been told that a few plantation owners have sold up, and some of them went back home to Europe. There were epidemics and harvest failures that forced them to give up their land. I can only provide you with the names of the plantation owners who still live here.’

  ‘How many are there?’ asked Ella.

  Otto set the list out on the rattan table so she could read it.

  ‘There are eleven rubber plantations with owners who have a surname beginning with F, and who my contacts tell me have at least one family member or worker named Richard. They’re all Dutch or English.’

  Ella examined the list: Ffresen, Fokkes, Ffeerinck, Fökkink, Fleerkatte. Those must be the Dutch names. Otto had written them down in a numbered list along with their addresses. Underneath them were some unmistakably English names: Francis, Forney, Foster, Fuller, Frye, Fowler. To her considerable surprise, the list went on. There must have been a dozen other names on it.

  ‘Those are all the names beginning with F that belong to other nationalities, or to natives with smaller plantations. I’ve added them for good measure, in case the names at the top of the list prove fruitless,’ explained Otto in answer to Ella’s enquiring look.

  ‘Do the numbers match the marks on the map?’ she asked.

  ‘That was the trickier part; however, a British friend of mine who has lived here for many years helped me with that. He had his foreman with him. I wouldn’t have been able to sketch out the locations without his considerable local knowledge,’ said Otto.

  That explained the circles on the map, then.

  ‘They’re very far apart.’ Ella foresaw weeks of wandering through the jungle with Rudolf.

  ‘It will take you a while, but you can visit most of the plantations on a circular route starting from Johore. There’s plenty of accommodation for travellers in this region. Or you could travel out and back to each of them in turn. That would take a day per trip.’ Otto did his best to raise Ella’s spirits.

  ‘Thank you . . . I don’t know how I can ever repay you,’ she said.

  ‘By looking after yourself, and by getting in touch with me whenever you need help. In a few days I’ll be in Johore, staying at a boarding house that I would like to recommend to you most war
mly. It’s run by a Chinese woman named Lee – a very charming lady. I’ve written the address on the back of the list,’ he explained, before standing up.

  ‘Do stay for a cup of coffee or tea,’ said Ella, and not just out of politeness. She had to admit that she had grown used to Otto’s company, despite the tensions between him and Rudolf. And she would miss the interesting conversations they had had on board too.

  ‘I’ve already had my tea, and I have a lot of appointments ahead of me. Besides, I won’t be far away,’ was Otto’s friendly but firm answer.

  All the same, Ella watched sadly as he disappeared towards the river.

  Surprisingly, Rudolf seemed to genuinely regret having missed Otto. She showed him the map and the lists while he ate his breakfast, and he was full of praise for the man.

  ‘No wonder he’s such a successful businessman,’ he said – from Rudolf’s lips, a true compliment.

  Speaking of ‘business’, German marks didn’t get you very far in Malacca. According to the Indian waiter, there were a few shops that accepted alternative currencies, but only if you were prepared to incur substantial exchange costs. He therefore advised them to change their money into the local currency – ideally before the banks closed at twelve.

  ‘We should base ourselves in Johore and visit the plantations from there,’ said Rudolf unexpectedly, on the way to the nearest bank. Ella was surprised, since he didn’t seem to have studied Otto’s map in particular detail over breakfast.

  ‘Shouldn’t we try the plantations in the south first?’ asked Ella.

  ‘The distances are all very short, so it wasn’t necessarily someone from one of the plantations closest to Singapore.’ His argument couldn’t easily be dismissed.

  ‘Besides, consider the difficulty of travelling straight across the south of the country. We’ll only manage it by travelling outwards from Johore. The roads connecting the plantations are unlikely to be of the best quality, so we should also make sure we hire a roadworthy carriage.’ Rudolf was probably right there too. Ella didn’t have much experience in reading maps, but it was true that the bigger roads radiated out from the cities towards the interior. That ruled out visiting the plantations marked on the map via a circular tour on unpaved roads.

  ‘First of all, though, I’ll try to arrange for some money to be telegraphed out to me,’ said Rudolf as the bank building came into view.

  ‘You don’t need to do that, Rudolf. You’re here on my account,’ Ella reminded him.

  ‘I didn’t have an opportunity to do it on board . . . I don’t mean to offend you, but it goes against my upbringing, and above all my disposition, for a woman to . . .’ Rudolf tried to explain himself.

  ‘It’s an exceptional situation, and I’m sure it’s only right and proper, considering that I have access to the financial resources that my father received for the very same reason we are here,’ Ella declared.

  Rudolf nodded reluctantly, before accompanying her obediently – and above all, with a more relaxed expression – to the Post Office Savings Bank, which stood in the main post office on Raffles Place, close to the hotel. The bank was housed in an impressive building, with a massive portico held up by columns and capped with two towers. According to the hotel reception, this was the cheapest place to change German marks into the local currency – the silver dollar, known in the region as the ringgit. Ella had feared that the bank would accept only pounds sterling, but they had no problems, although they had to pay an additional charge as their currency was uncommon in these parts.

  ‘It would have been easier for us if your mysterious father had a tin mine,’ said Rudolf as they reached the Chinese-owned carriage hire company – a recommendation from the helpful bank employees, and likewise easily accessible on foot.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Ella enquired.

  ‘Travelling by train would be more comfortable, and there would always be a breeze to cool the carriage,’ answered Rudolf.

  ‘There’s a railway? In Malacca?’ asked Ella incredulously.

  ‘There have been railway lines in the north and east for a few years now. I know why too, thanks to Otto. That’s where the tin mines are, and the heavy ore needs to be transported somehow.’ The prospect of having to travel in an unroofed carriage through the scorching heat, which grew almost unbearable in the afternoon, was as unappealing to Ella as it was to him.

  ‘They’re selling straw hats up ahead.’ Ella was glad to have spotted the market stall.

  ‘A pith helmet would suit me better, though,’ Rudolf countered with a grin. He seemed to have recovered his sense of humour. He also assumed responsibility for haggling with the carriage company, negotiating a good price for two weeks. A small supplement would then be payable for every additional day. Ella could live with that.

  Everything seemed to be going miraculously smoothly.

  Back at Raffles, the bags were quickly loaded and Ella was told that the journey to Johore was perfectly safe, since they only had to travel northwards across Singapore along well-paved roads before making a short ferry crossing to the south coast of Malacca. If they made haste, they would be able to reach Johore by the early evening.

  Ella reflected on how quickly her lethargy of the last few weeks on board the Danzig had fallen away, despite the heat and the countless new impressions that this foreign and extraordinarily varied culture was bombarding her with. The sheer rush of colours they encountered at every corner as they drove their carriage through the city was simply exhausting. Ella would have liked to take a closer look at one of the magnificent Chinese temples they passed, with their curved roof beams that were unheard of back in Germany. The buildings themselves were generally decked in red and gold, and from the street you could smell the incense sticks that the worshippers placed on the urns of their forebears – alongside banknotes, as Ella had discovered during a brief stop at a well immediately in front of one of the temples. All the same, the hour-long carriage ride to the north still offered plenty of opportunity to feast her eyes on the confusion of different cultures that coexisted here – and all in perfect safety, since Rudolf was the one holding the reins. That meant Ella could take in the sights and sounds of the region at her leisure.

  As soon as they disembarked from the brief ferry crossing between Singapore and the southern tip of Malacca, all that colourful urban flair abruptly vanished. The houses here were smaller, flatter and humbler – though Ella remembered that Singapore’s prestigious stone buildings were found only near the coast and at the harbour. The indigenous dwellings resembled huts or the sort of rustic stables that Ella knew from back home. Their roofs seemed to be thatched with reeds, and their frames were wooden. Yet even these habitations grew sparser as they continued on their way. Although they were at some remove from the coast and a long way from any water, many of the dwellings they encountered were still built on stilts. Wooden ladders led up into the living quarters, which had no exterior walls on the front, and therefore no windows or doors either.

  ‘It’s probably how they protect themselves against wild animals, though there’s also more ventilation from below that way. After all, it’s very humid here, and the monsoon must cause floods from time to time too.’ With his background in real estate, Rudolf seemed to be in his element. Tall, pitched roofs and large windows would keep the interior cool, as the heat would rise and could escape through lateral openings underneath the roof. Rudolf must have secretly read all this in the library on board the Danzig.

  For her part, Ella had eyes only for the carvings on the houses that they passed close enough to admire.

  Initially they had been surrounded by thick tropical vegetation that made it impossible to look into the hinterland beyond the edge of the road, but halfway through their journey, the jungle was gradually beginning to clear. There was a fork ahead of them, which prompted Rudolf to stop the carriage and study Otto’s map. As he did so, Ella stood up, in hopes of catching a glimpse of Johore in the distance. A handful of houses offered the
only hint that they were approaching the town – though Otto had said that it was really more of a village. In the other direction, an even green extended to the horizon. Ella squinted to see better against the light of the setting sun. She felt sure that there was an offshoot of a rubber plantation in front of her, for the trees were far too regularly planted to have sprouted according to Mother Nature’s sense of order.

  ‘That way leads straight into town,’ said Rudolf, pointing in the direction of the area where Ella had seen a few initial houses scattered across the landscape. She took a look at the map in Rudolf’s hand just to make sure.

  ‘The other route looks a little shorter, though,’ she pointed out.

  ‘If we travel that way then we’ll cross a plantation,’ said Rudolf, who didn’t seem particularly keen on the idea.

  ‘Indeed, and it’s one from Otto’s list too,’ Ella went on, having spotted one of his markings on the map.

  Rudolf looked sceptical – presumably because the alternative route offered a paved road. Yet it really was longer, since it curved around the edge of the rubber groves.

  ‘We could ask somebody about this Richard while we’re there,’ Ella suggested. She saw no reason to take a detour. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

  ‘At this time?’ Rudolf objected.

  ‘There might still be somebody working the fields.’ Ella couldn’t bear to waste valuable time for the sake of politeness. Besides, the track through the plantation didn’t look all that bumpy, although it was narrower than the road that lay ahead of them.

  Rudolf gradually seemed to warm to the idea.

  ‘How should we broach the subject? After all, you can hardly ask them directly about your real father, can you?’

  Ella was well aware that this wouldn’t be a straightforward undertaking.

  ‘He must be around the same age as my father. We need to find out if he was a worker or a plantation owner, and whether or not he’s still alive,’ she summed up.