Teochew Red Hokkien Green: A Story of Early Singapore

By Song Cheng Miang

It is 1819 and the seaport of Singapore has developed a magnetic appeal. As merchants, traders, and migrant workers emigrate to seek their fortunes, the untouched land develops into an elegant town managed by British East India Company. Included in those who flock to Singapore are three men who have no idea that their destinies are about to bring them together in a rudimentary Chinese community where secret societies hold the power.

Yong Huat is a Hokkien from Malacca determined to become a rich merchant. Mong Seng is a Teochew from South China who is a loyal friend and hard worker. Kum Tat is a Cantonese who works for a trading company. As the three men begin to acquire wealth, their paths intertwine as momentous events rock the land of fortune. Fearless secret societies, clan fights, vicious tigers, the evils of opium and gambling, and a cultural divide soon transform their friendship into a sworn brotherhood. But as a hostile confrontation brews between the Teochews and Hokkiens, now only time will tell if the friendship will survive.

In this historical tale of early Singapore, three friends unite with the hope that their sworn brotherhood will help them not only endure the challenges, but also achieve their dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Sep 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781482827729

Song Cheng Miang

Song Cheng Miang was born and raised in Singapore, where he received his education. He enjoyed a successful career that included roles as managing director of JP Morgan and deputy general manager of Rabobank. Now retired, Song enjoys research and writing. This is his debut novel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

April 1819, Malacca Town

News travelled fast; great news flew at an astonishing speed, hitting its targets with supreme urgency.

The newly installed administration of Singapore extended its invitation to residents of Malacca to trade or to work and live in the newly discovered settlement. A few days after the British East India Company – the wealthy and powerful trading company that enjoyed privileges and special rights from the British government – declared the new settlement in Singapore, the invitation traversed the 120 miles to Malacca Town. It struck a familiar chord. The middle-aged residents recalled a similar event thirty years in the past when the beacon in the north signalled the friendly gesture to the island. The British East India Company took possession of Penang, offering it as a transit point for ships sailing between India and China. Unable to resist the temptation of rewarding opportunities, many Chinese from Malacca emigrated there. A generation later, the event repeated. This time, fortunes beckoned in the south. Another opportunity, another chance unfolded for the brave and adventurous residents.

Lim Yong Huat and his friend, Chua Ah Bah, were not born then. They belonged to a younger generation, but could they be pushed by their ancestral instinct to seek potential riches farther afield? Both eighteen years old, the adventure to the south consumed their thoughts for days. They wondered, How can we convert the rare opportunity into substantial wealth creation? What must we do right? The wealthy Chinese merchants in Malacca were ostentatious. Obviously, they enjoyed a world of abundance. It was anyone’s dream to be in that position – perhaps not possible in this life but in future (reincarnated) lives. Yong Huat believed the head start to that coveted life rested with early arrival at the scene. Plenty of luck would be a definite booster.

After the day’s work as casual workers in building construction, they met in the evening to drool over moneymaking possibilities and to map out their relocation plan to Singapore. Both were clueless of the terrain, inhabitants, and the style of administration in Singapore, but their wild imaginations hinged on Malacca Town.

At the appointed time in the morning, Yong Huat and Ah Bah arrived at the gates of Cheng Hoon Teng, a magnificent Buddhist temple. For days, Yong Huat had pestered his parents to allow him this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get rich in a foreign land. They eventually relented, but his mother insisted that he first seek divine approval. Ah Bah had an easier passage because his parents acknowledged that construction work anywhere was the same, and working hard was the only way to make a living.

They crossed the expanse of the temple courtyard to enter the centre bay of the temple hall. The morning was mercilessly hot, and only the shaded places could provide refuge. Crowds of worshippers jostled for a central position to kneel before the statue of Bodhisattva Kwan Yin.

Yong Huat whispered to Ah Bah, Today is an important day, the twentieth day of the third lunar month: Ching Ming Day. It is a respectful occasion for our ancestors. When many pray on special days such as this, blessings are bountiful. Furthermore, Cheng Hoon Teng is the oldest temple in Malacca, and for that, its divinity is the strongest.

Ah Bah grinned and nodded in agreement.

When a woman finished her prayers, Yong Huat quickly jostled to occupy her position. He knelt, offered incense, and looked straight at the image of Bodhisattva Kwan Yin. Silently, in his heart, he told the Bodhisattva his intention to move to Singapore, and he asked whether he should undertake that journey. And then he moved forward with his knees to take a bamboo tube from the altar in front. He shook the bamboo tube to allow one of the one hundred bamboo sticks to fall out of it.

Within a few seconds, it happened. Yong Huat became excited, but he could not tell whether he was looking at an auspicious or unfavourable number. Next, he grabbed the two small divination blocks from the table. He held them with both hands to his chest and asked silently again whether the bamboo stick carried the right message for him.

The floor echoed the sounds of the dropped divination blocks. Yong Huat froze and watched as the blocks fell. One block fell with the flat side up, whereas the other landed with the curved side up. A favourable combination indeed, and Yong Huat smiled contentedly. He twisted his neck to look behind at Ah Bah, who immediately understood the answer they sought.

Happily, they walked to the left bay of the temple where, behind a desk, an elderly man sat. He interpreted the oracle thus, It is a very favourable reading. Great success awaits you, but you must remain noble. Otherwise, all buildings that you build will turn to ashes. You will taste sweetness, but you must bear some bitterness. Nothing is permanent.

Fair enough, Yong Huat thought.

The elderly man scrutinised his face and said, You have a big and round nose with fleshy wings that cover your nostrils. That means you will enjoy wealth. Your eyes are somewhat shifty, so don’t be cunning in order to gain.

Yong Huat was obviously happy to hear the prediction and pressed his nose to feel its size.

The oracle is meant for both of us. I prayed to Bodhisattva Kwan Yin for Ah Bah and myself, Yong Huat told the oracle reader, who nodded knowingly.

Yong Huat pulled Ah Bah to the altar to make a thanksgiving prayer. They lingered in the aura of the temple hall as if hoping to receive more blessings while admiring the decorative motifs and frescoes on the walls, gables, and roof ridges.

The builders and craftsmen of this temple hailed from Hokkien and Kwantung provinces. They were extremely talented. Their skills were imparted to the locals, and they now maintain the tradition. In my employment, I carefully watch the craftsmen execute the decorations for the wealthy people’s houses. Although I am still amateurish, my basic knowledge allows me to practise the cut-and-paste method to produce decorative motifs from the colourful porcelain shards. This experience can be used in Singapore to build nice homes. Ah Bah said all of this as his elongated eyes on his oval face shone with great energy. I think this is what I will aim to do in Singapore.

You can create the mythical dragons and lions? You can make the deer and cranes and various flower arrangements? So you have secretly honed your skills. I am not aesthetic like you. I take instructions and carry wood for the builders. I aspire to be a merchant – rich merchant! However, this dream seems so unreachable with no capital and no business skills. Yong Huat sighed and then pulled Ah Bah’s sleeve while saying, I always wondered how those huge timber columns in the temple hall were installed on their stone bases. His friend looked at the erect pillars in silent admiration as though he had mastered the technique.

The smoke from the incense thickened, and they walked to the corner of the courtyard to escape it. It was still early, and with the divine approval in his pocket, Yong Huat suggested visiting the Hokkien Huay Kuan to gather more information about Singapore. Ching Ming Festival was an important occasion for the clan house; it was the time when business veterans gathered for ancestor worship and socialisation.

After crossing to the next street and strolling a short distance, they arrived at the entrance of the clan house, which had the facade of a temple and a ceramic-tiled roof adorned with porcelain-cut pictures of dragons and phoenixes. Brightly coloured tableaus of animals covered the external walls. As they stepped over the threshold to get into the main ancestral hall, a claustrophobic sensation swept over them. The hall was used for prayers as well as for communal events. On that religious day, more than a hundred Hokkien men, gathered in small groups, chattered in the small confines of space. The generous, high ceilings helped absorb the noise and human heat generated by the crowd. Yong Huat saw the altar where the goddess, Ma Cho, sat flanked by two deities. He squeezed through the thick wall of stubborn bodies to bow respectfully to the goddess.

Yong Huat and Ah Bah appeared lost in the sea of unfamiliar faces. Actually, all the men looked the same: white or blue jackets worn over loose black or blue trousers. Their faces and the brows of their heads were shaven clean for this annual festival. Their towchang, neatly braided, hung freely behind their backs. Whether or not they knew the towchang was a display of their loyalty to the emperor of China was unclear. It was a hairstyle dictated by Chinese tradition. Ah Bah signalled to Yong Huat to thrust into a group of three men engaged in active discussion. They were talking about Singapore and it seemed like the perfect time to interject.

The three middle-aged men were startled by the intrusion, but they remained good-natured in the spirit of the Ching Ming Festival. Yong Huat pretended to conceal his bashfulness. He said, Respectable elders, we heard the Singapore news a week ago. Honestly, our adrenaline is speeding through our bodies just thinking about the prospect of moving there. My friend Ah Bah is equally interested. We are here to get some information, which, based on your earlier discussion, will not disappoint us.

Yong Huat’s eyes widened and glowed with enthusiasm. As though requiring support, he pushed Ah Bah forward to enlarge the circle of participants.

The news spread like wildfire. The British company is opening a trading port in Singapore, and its newly appointed governor is encouraging people in Malacca to seek trade and employment opportunities. We are young, healthy, and strong, and we can endure hardship. We value your advice. Do you think we should seize this special opportunity? asked Ah Bah, feeling the pressure to exhibit enthusiasm.

The three wise men listened intently and then smiled at the young fortune seekers. In deference to age, the older-looking man was allowed to speak first: It is in our Chinese blood to seek fortunes, like young eagles flying in the sky in search of prey. Since time immemorial, we have been imbued with this instinct. Our forefathers left China risking their lives to attain a better livelihood elsewhere. Chinese can smell money! They came to Malacca to improve their lives and created generations of descendants. Someday, these descendants will do the same thing. The cycle repeats itself. Yong Huat gaped in awe at the philosophical discourse.

"Let me tell you a little history. Malacca was an important port serving the growing trade between Europe and China. Our forefathers were right to settle here. But the fortune of this place slowly changed. Malacca lost a great deal of its original importance when the Dutch took control of Malacca from the Portuguese nearly two hundred years ago. Batavia was their primary interest. They wanted to control Malacca to ensure that trade passing through the Strait of Malacca would be unhindered all the way to Batavia. Thus, Malacca became less important," the man with a full moon-shaped face said.

As young lads, you do not know why the Chinese population here is thinning. That was one of the reasons. Let me explain further. True, Malacca came under British control for a while … and perhaps they could have restored the glory of Malacca. That did not happen. A quarter century ago, Holland fought with France. The Dutch king fled to Britain for safety and placed its overseas territories temporarily under British authority to prevent them from falling into French hands. Last year, after the war, the British returned Batavia and Malacca to the Dutch. Why should the British develop Malacca if it was just held in trust? Their priority was Penang, where they opened a port to capture the East–West trade. Many Chinese from Malacca, attracted by the new place, moved to Penang. The older- looking man continued to fill in the puzzle, shaking his head mournfully as he talked. By this time, Yong Huat looked embarrassed by his ignorance of the struggle of foreign powers in the place that he lived; he had busied himself only with mundane matters.

If they have a possession up north, why do the British want to open a port in the south? asked Ah Bah.

Ah Bah realised that the older-looking gentleman liked to talk, to give his perspective on the British East India Company’s strategy in the region. That is a good question. Penang gives the British control to the north of the Strait of Malacca. Strategically, it is smart to have a station at the southern entrance of the Strait of Malacca to control trade. The Dutch’s influence in the south is very strong. British trading ships are taxed heavily at Dutch ports. Often, the Dutch navy harasses them. The British now offer a free port at Singapore to neutralise their influence. The Dutch and British are not really good friends.

As had become the pattern of rotation, the moon-faced man picked up from the last sentence: For many years, Chinese traders were active in ports found in the Riau Islands, Penang, Siam, Cochin-China, Manila, and Batavia. However, some ports, like Manila and Brunei, were not friendly to foreign traders (whether they were British, Dutch, American, or Chinese). Killings of traders occasionally made the news. It was risky. Hard-core traders also value their lives. Opening the Singapore port will be a natural magnet to traders seeking safety from persecution and freedom to trade.

The historical facts became heavy to digest. They were the past, and Yong Huat wanted to be more forward-looking. News about the discovery of the new settlement is interesting. I heard that some British sailed in the nearby seas to identify a suitable location, and then they saw this heavily forested island, which many trading ships had sailed past for centuries without sensing its relevance. These British sailors must have possessed special eyes, remarked Yong Huat in his attempt to demonstrate he was not totally in the dark.

Ah. You are not even half-correct. In January this year, a small group of men from the British East India Company surveyed the area around the Riau Islands for a suitable harbour. Stamford Raffles was the leader responsible for the selection of the prospective port, and he joined the expedition team to locate it. His preference was a port in the Riau Islands, but nothing excited him. He instructed the expedition team to steer the boat northward, towards Johore River. Along the way, they observed the terrain and surrounding waters to locate the dream place. Then they saw a seemingly uninhabited but strategically located island. It was covered in jungles, and Raffles made his choice. That island must have illuminated as he sailed by to arouse his imagination! Singapore became its name, the man said.

The third wise man, standing silent, suddenly opened his mouth and let his words fall out curtly and rather offensively: Why do you want to go to Singapore? It is an empty shell. Only strong people can endure it. I am not even sure you have grown pubic hair. For a start, do you have capital to do business?

Yong Huat did not like that derisive glance from that third man. He replied, We are realistic and mentally prepared to endure discomfort and suffering to achieve our goals. Our aim is to get rich like the merchants living on old wealth here. The third man sniggered and stared while Yong Huat continued to justify the raw nerves of their youth: "We do not want a familiar life here and a mediocre future. We understand that everything has to be built from scratch with unfamiliar people, scarce food, no Huay Kuan, no nyonya. How often can a new settlement be discovered with an open invitation for those who dare? It is a rare opportunity, and we can sacrifice all that."

Growing up in humble families, we have not accumulated capital to give us a head start. At eighteen, our skills have not yet advanced above the crowd. But there is a level playing field in Singapore. In a newfound place, everyone has to start from ground zero. It is the perseverance, diligence, and endurance that count. I have ten fingers, two hands, two legs, and a brain. They should not fail me. I learn a lot from builders who are experts in constructing Chinese homes and warehouses. The artistic skills taught by Chinese artisans to craft, paint, and gild interiors have also improved my ability to deliver quality, said Ah Bah, beaming with confidence, although he knew that he had overplayed his hand. His intention was to give his friend’s justification a boost, even though it was unwarranted. Yong Huat looked down sheepishly because his knowledge of construction was rudimentary. However, he was not deterred because his interest focused on the vast trading opportunities that the new port offered.

The older-looking man seemed to admire their youthful energy and desire to seize the challenge. He tried to be encouraging: I understand that a few hundred residents have already responded to the call to move to Singapore. Some successful and wealthy Chinese merchants are also being seduced by the promise of greater riches there. The rich want to be richer. Your ambition comes from our ancestral lineage, so use it to the fullest. Young blood must do it. If I were as young as you both are, my boat would have already reached its destination.

You may regret in your old age if you let this opportunity slip you by. We are old eagles resting most of the time, sort of waiting to die, urged the man with the moon-shaped face.

The older-looking man continued, I’ll give you peace of mind. Take comfort in the fact that the man in charge of Singapore is William Farquhar. Surely you have not forgotten! He was our resident for fifteen years, until last year. He even married a local Malay girl. He is a very respected and approachable man. Occasionally, we saw him wandering in the streets. An unassuming man, indeed. Now that he is in Singapore, he is making calls to Malacca residents to emigrate there. At least you are not entering a lion’s lair. He is a familiar face.

Sounds like another piece of good news! He trusts Malacca residents. Maybe we’ll get preferential treatment, exclaimed Yong Huat.

A rather round man squeezed through the tight circle while they engaged in intense discussion. He wiped the beads of perspiration off his forehead with his hand and then pointed his forefinger mockingly at the older-looking man, Old Tan, you want to go to Singapore too?

You are a barrel of rubbish! I am just helping these two young and brave men understand the factors that they must consider. Our energy has leaked over time.

Let me give another piece of advice to this young blood. Singapore needs food and provisions to feed its growing population. Otherwise, the people will starve. And big profits are awaiting those who sell to them. Also, timber and tiles are needed for building construction. Bring as much as you can to Singapore to earn the easy money, the round man said as his face glistened from the excessive perspiration.

The man who was usually silent spoke again, but he forced a smile. Yong Huat noticed he chose his moment carefully. Both of you seem strong-willed, determined to test your future. Your father cannot teach you how to use your manhood anymore. But there is one last thing that you must know.

Yong Huat and Ah Bah leaned forward and asked as if it were a rehearsed question, What is the matter?

The Dutch, our colonial masters, are not pleased with the interest expressed by our residents to move to Singapore, a British-controlled place. I do not know whether they see it as a conflict of loyalty or a dislike for their main trading rival. Some emigrants reported spotting Dutch gun boats patrolling the Strait of Malacca, to prevent them from reaching Singapore. No casualties reported, so it may just be a rumoured threat. Still, the 120-mile journey is a long stretch, vast enough for pirates in the Strait to inflict extreme damage. Be careful of these twin threats, said the typically silent man.

The three wise men wished Yong Huat and Ah Bah a safe journey and future success. With that, they walked to the entrance to go their separate ways. The crowd in the ancestral hall had halved, dispersed mostly to eat lunch. Voices became quieter. The midday sun started to bake the streets, and the heat generated found its way to the interior. Despite the high ceiling, stuffiness became oppressive, causing Yong Huat and Ah Bah to move outside. They turned right to walk the short street to Malacca River. Food was not on their mind because they wanted to digest the information they received at the clan house.

They decided not to cross the river bridge, preferring to squat under the canopy of the banyan tree at the bank. We forgot to ask whether there is a Singapore River like this one flowing beneath us, Yong Huat said with a trace of regret. At that hour, the tide pushed in the water from the Strait of Malacca, allowing boats of various sizes to load and unload merchandise into buildings that stood on stilts over the water near the river mouth. Yong Huat released the top two buttons of his plain white tunic and pointed to his right. The buildings along the river function as homes and storehouses. People work and live in the same place. Very convenient. The riverside is busy throughout the day. I dream that Singapore is like that. With an active life on the river, it will support a Chinatown like the one behind us with many rich merchants. Yong Huat seemed to salivate at the imagined prosperity.

If there is a Singapore River, will the British rule us from the opposite bank of the river the way the Dutch do here? You can see the Dutch built their offices, residences, and fortifications at the far bank of this river as though they were on superior ground to control us. They are on elevated ground, so they can look down on us. Actually, we don’t care what the British do so long as we are not restricted to pursue our employment or business, Ah Bah said while throwing some small stones into the Malacca River.

I prefer to let surprise spring on me. It is an adventure as much as a moneymaking pursuit. Let’s just keep our expectations realistic and seize opportunities. Later, we will walk to the river mouth to enquire about the departure of a passenger boat to Singapore. With our meagre savings, we can buy some provisions, like rice, brown sugar, and salted fish for resale upon our arrival. The profits will just last a short while. Then the rest of the days in Singapore will have to be supported by our blood and sweat. Yong Huat began to feel their relocation plan falling into place. They only needed to organise the boat transportation.

If I amass sufficient earnings in Singapore, I will make a triumphant return to live my remaining years in Malacca. Like the rich, old men of Malacca, remarked Ah Bah. How about you?"

I have not given a thought to the returning part. Of course, we can make periodic return visits, but I hope Singapore will flourish so I can make it my permanent home. I will hire servants from Malacca to cook sumptuous Peranakan food. I am optimistic it can happen in my lifetime, Yong Huat declared, staring across the Malacca River at the Stadhuys, the residence of the Dutch governor and his officers. It was like a choice between Dutch or British rule, but his gut gave him more faith in the latter. Perhaps the stories that he heard about the prosperity in Penang under the British rule affirmed his selection.

Chapter 2

May 1819, Singapore

Before dawn, the passenger boat was positioned at the mouth of Malacca River, ready for the arduous journey. Many were at the embarkation point at least one hour before departure, not wishing to lose their valued seats. Space constraints required them to remain immobile when the journey started. The journey’s duration was anyone’s guess. As the oars hit the waters, the boatmen pulled them with force to propel the boat forward. The next moment, when the oars were pulled above water, they relaxed to let the boat advance unhindered. The synchronised actions of pulling and relaxing were as natural as breathing in and out. Besides concentration and good stamina, the twelve boatmen, divided equally into left and right sides, laboured as a team. A lack of cooperation would hamper the journey from Malacca to Singapore. The thirty paying passengers crammed into the boat became dulled by inactivity after the initial excitement fizzled out. Their views to the left and the right remained unchanged for miles on end, and the sounds they heard were limited to the splashes of the oars. Some grumbled among themselves that the boat could go faster. The boat captain, sitting in front, ignored their telling facial expressions, preferring to indulge in secret thoughts, as the rowers performed their jobs.

Yong Huat and Ah Bah sat next to each other with bags containing their four sets of clothes and provisions of Batavia rice and locally produced brown sugar (for their first trade in Singapore). Safely kept in their bags were spiritual talismans that would protect them against adversity during the journey. My mother threw red flowers into my water tub so that any unlucky encounters would be neutralised, Yong Huat declared. Ah Bah laughed and confessed that his mother made him finish a huge bowl of noodles in sugary soup before he could leave the house.

The boat captain did not allow bulky goods on board because the sailing vessel was a passenger boat. All the passengers respected that rule, and there was enough space in the boat to stretch occasionally. As patient as they were, many had to endure the crawling pace of the sun as it made its path from the east to the west. They knew that, in two hours, the sun would go below the far horizon and a day would have passed. But only half the journey would be covered. The experienced captain instructed the boatmen to turn into a river estuary for a night stopover. There, they could rest and recover strength for the remaining journey. Also, he knew that darkness might attract pirates.

We will stop at this river village, Bandar Penggaram, for the night. We will leave at dawn. You can buy salted fish here. This village is known for this product. Workers in Singapore are fond of salted fish, which they consume with their rice, said the boat captain. Yong Huat jingled some extra silver dollars in his pocket, and he was delighted at the prospect of adding another popular item to his for-sale provisions. Ah Bah chose to preserve the meagre money in his pocket.

The night on the boat was cool, but the tight space forced their bodies into contorted, awkward positions, which disrupted their sleep. After a long struggle with alternating sleep and wakefulness, they were happy to hear the first chirping of birds, which heralded the beginning of dawn. The boatmen positioned themselves, fully recharged and ready for the rest of the journey. The boat moved sluggishly forward because momentum had not been established yet. Stars were still sparkling in the last darkness of dawn. Oars splashed routinely, and the passenger boat moved into the last leg of the journey to Singapore. Being listless and bored, the speed of the boat seemed frustratingly slow, but the passengers believed good things would emerge at the end. By mid-afternoon, when the sun bared its intensity, the boat reached a large channel of water separating two pieces of land. As it passed, the boat captain pointed to his left and said, Singapore, Singapore. We are near.

Instinctively, the passengers shook off their drowsiness and craned their necks to look at the silent, thick jungles moving past them. Tall and short trees stood close together to create a dense green screen as though they were woven together impenetrably. When the boat moved closer to the coastline, the green screen revealed spreading branches and a variety of canopies. Yong Huat turned to Ah Bah and murmured, Thank heaven, our destination is near. No angry Dutch pointing their guns. Sea pirates went into hiding, too. Our talismans are powerful! Ah Bah nodded while pointing to the open sea as the boat advanced south, following the contour of the coastline. A few other vessels were sighted, obviously heading for the same destination. The boatmen rowed harder as the end of their labour came into view. They saw the narrow mouth of a river, where boats were seen trying to gain entry into it. Two big sailing ships, about 120 feet long, anchored outside the river mouth. One European trading ship was painted in black and trimmed with yellow. It had three masts. Another ship had a narrower hull with multiple masts. Their stately appearance was made more enchanting under the refraction of the evening glow. One passenger squealed in delight: Majestic! Their sailors are lucky; they don’t have to row boats.

The boatmen rowed the boat past the multitude of floating craft. They found a path through the confused pattern of anchoring, and they were led to the entrance of the river. This is Singapore River. The boat will move in so you can disembark on the right bank, announced the boat captain.

So it is like Malacca. The river is the artery of trade and lifeline to the town. Singapore River is much broader, much larger. I have good feelings about this place already. It will bring fortune, Yong Huat said, and he smiled knowingly to himself.

The tide was ebbing. The right bank looks solid, and it’s on higher ground. Look, the left bank is swampy with thick mangrove cover except for some attap houses on stilts. Otherwise, it is pristine and serene nature out there. For a moment, I thought it was unusual for mangroves to sprout white flowers. They are actually flocks of white egrets roosting atop the mangrove trees, Ah Bah said. He laughed as he surveyed the silent left bank.

Yong Huat could not resist saying, Singapore River is no longer virgin. Only three months, and many boats and craft are already moving in and out of it. There is the smell of money in the air. I guess those stationary ones have delivered their goods and are waiting for the next morning to load merchandise to carry away. The passenger boat steered slowly to avoid a cargo boat on its left and a prahu on its right. Yong Huat turned to shout across to several Chinese men in the boat preparing to unload cargo. Do you all live here?

The men looked up and stared. One who looked like a cargo commander answered, No, we arrived from Penang to sell our supplies for building construction here – bricks, tiles, wood, and ropes. Demand is great. Many want to set up homes. Several hundred from Malacca are up there somewhere. Everyone is busy.

What are those busy boats? Ah Bah asked out of curiosity.

Those small boats are from Riau Islands, and they bring fresh food supplies, like chickens, ducks, pigs, vegetables, and fruits, shouted back the cargo commander.

Yong Huat was pleased with the answer. He whispered to Ah Bah, There is a lot of business. We made the right decision to come here. No regrets. A passenger next to him quickly said, The pretty scene alone makes the trip worthwhile!

The sun had almost disappeared for the day, but the sky was still bright. All the passengers stood up, lugging their property as the boat approached the landing point on the right bank. They all sought to rush out through the same exit. The mass surged to the right; the sudden shift of weight caused the boat to tilt. The boat captain raged at the ill discipline, and he yelled at them to remain in their original positions. The low tide prevented the boat from stopping closer to the bank landing. The passengers walked down a plank gangway, immersing their legs in the muddy shore before climbing the bank to firm ground. On the landing, Yong Huat breathed deeply in order to inhale the smell of Singapore. A boat journey ended, and a new beginning was waiting to unfold.

Look, you see the flag flying on top of that hill? It is the British flag. Malacca flew it until the Dutch brought it down last year, a passenger blurted out suddenly, keen to demonstrate his knowledge. All heads turned to the north to look at the hill. Familiarity bred comfort, and that was all that was needed for the first day. No wonder the Dutch are displeased! his friend joined in.

A few yards ahead from the landing stood three huts with some uniformed men in scarlet tunics and blue trousers observing the movements of people. They are British soldiers, guards. A military post. Don’t talk; just walk quickly, a passenger said, and the new arrivals suddenly became lost sheep. But none of the military guards asked questions; they just stared nonchalantly. Walking past was like acceptance of entry to the new settlement. Of course, the military guards knew that everyone was welcomed to share the burden of building a trading port.

The evening sky started to darken, but the new arrivals could see that the simple shed ahead of them functioned as a marketplace. At that late hour, it was devoid of people except for a few men who loitered around a desk in the corner. Intimidating as they seemed, the new arrivals compliantly walked towards them in response to their beckoning. The five men stood in a semicircle around a stern Chinese man seated behind a square desk. He had a hard look about him, and he exuded an air of authority. His towchang was wound around his head, resembling a black turban. The tight muscles of his face seemed to freeze his grouchy expression.

Newcomers, this gentleman is the Chinese headman appointed by the government to handle affairs of the Chinese community. The governor listens to him, and if you have problems here, seek his advice, said an assistant. The newcomers bowed in deference. They were pleasantly surprised there was an avenue for counselling in the undeveloped place.

The stage prepared, the Chinese headman leaned back and said in deliberately slow sentences, The British offer this place so you can operate your business or provide your services. You are welcome to live here, but do so peacefully. Troublemakers will be apprehended and punished. My men will see to them. This is a new settlement; do not bring shame to the community. His eyes searched the crowd, and then he slapped his palm on the table. From your accent, I guess you all hail from Malacca. I am from Malacca, too. In this place, the Chinese are mainly Teochews and Hokkiens from Siam, Cochin China, Penang, Batam, and Bintan. Rivalry is natural, but clan fights are forbidden. If you fight, your punishment is worse than the eighteen gates of hell. He rested his right elbow on the table, pushed his heavy body forward, and wagged his finger to emphasise his points. In the failing light, he could not identify anyone familiar.

Big chief, what can we do here? Yong Huat asked.

The Chinese headman felt good about the question because it gave him the chance to explain the opportunities in the new settlement. If you have capital, which I doubt, trade with the boats that bring goods from their places of origin. Bring construction materials or food supplies. Be a hawker for vegetables, chickens, or ducks. Houses need construction materials and labour. Europeans want to build warehouses to store goods for trans-shipment. Jobs are plentiful; find one. Don’t be lazy, and you can carve out a good life. Don’t store your brains in the backside.

Where can we find temporary lodging? a man in the crowd asked.

An assistant of the Chinese headman replied, "The area across this river is very much uninhabited, with only eleven attap houses on stilts that