"Impossible," he replied, and departed in the direction of the palace. The palace was a half-finished, two-story brick dwelling. The Sultan had never been able to gather enough money to have the building completed; but, at that, it was the most imposing house in Trengganu.
An hour later, I started out with Ali and, the Chinese boy for the palace, to pay my respects to the Sultan and make another request for an interview. At the gate I was met by a tunku, who told me that the Sultan would not receive me. I returned to the trader's house and slept through the hot afternoon. When evening came, I went again to the palace and met with the same reception.
Twice a day for the entire week I called at the palace. I appeared to be making no headway, but I had been associated with the Malays long enough to know that the Sultan could not bear the strain much longer. Also, I knew that if I gave a tunku the least inkling of my purpose, all my hopes of hunting in Trengganu would be wrecked.
The Sultan gave in at last; he sent word to the gate that he would receive me, and I was ushered into the "reception room" of the palace. The Sultan, a middle-aged, scholarly-looking man, was waiting for me, with his retinue squatted around him. I gave him my card.
"What is it?" he asked.
"My name," I replied, bowing.
"What country are you from?"
"America."
He looked surprised and asked if I was English, French or Dutch; he thought that all white men must be of one of those races and that America was probably a colony.
Fortunately, I had some maps with me. I spread them on the floor and held a class in geography, with the Sultan and his retinue bending over me, listening intently. The Sultan was as enthusiastic on the subject of America as if he had discovered the country. I told him about our president and how he is elected, about the states and governors and the legislatures and Congress.