Malays. At Lingga—a pretty town—there are 8000 inhabitants. This archipelago is from its situation an important one, and more than one Power is casting longing eyes on Bintang, or one of the others, so as to be directly opposite Singapore.
On the evening of 30th December we anchored alongside the wharf at Singapore and I came ashore to Raffles Hotel, a huge, imposing edifice with two wings. With regret I left the Stettin which for so long had been my pleasant home. From Captain Niedermayer and from all connected with her I had received nothing but continuous kindness and attention, and I shall always bear them all in grateful and kindly remembrance. I was even sorry to say “good-bye” to “Preety Cockay,” and missed the daily attack of his terrible beak. May he live long to inflict it on others is, I think, the most suitable wish I can make him.
Quite a fracas occurred as I was leaving, and I found my old Malay sailor-man had taken my bag from the steward, insisted on carrying it and escorting me down the gangway. Then we solemnly shook hands—I actually ‘“‘ choky’’ and almost ‘‘ weepy’’—and so our queer friendship came to an end. I look back on those many weeks on that German boat with unalloyed pleasure and a little touch of sadness. I learnt many things and was taught many things, and am grateful for all.
Singapore ways were new to me, though those who have dwelt in the East will scorn my ignorance. My bedroom opened on the long, wide balcony, and the space in front, partly enclosed and furnished with table and chairs, was my sitting-room. The little swing-door of the bedroom reached neither floor nor ceiling, so that it concealed little of the room. There were two dressing-rooms and one of
