After I left Singapore, I had been thinking constantly of becoming a dealer in animals. The more I considered the idea, the more it appealed to me. I was becoming tired of circus life, especially since my work did not bring me into contact with the animals. On my return to New York I found Gaylord and told him about my plans. He encouraged me and introduced me to many men I was glad to know, such as Donald Burns, who was a dealer and had a store in Roosevelt Street.
At Donald Burns's place I talked my venture over with many showmen. They were all interested and wished to encourage me, but they were frankly doubtful of my success because they knew of old Mahommed Ariff's monopoly. Burns offered to help me dispose of the animals, but I was not elated at that prospect, for Burns did not attend very strictly to business. It was a well-known story in the circus world that he had neglected the opportunity of handling the first hippopotamus brought to this country. A sea captain had offered to sell it to him for $3,000, but Burns refused to take it—he simply wasn't interested. A few days later it was sold to Barnum for $10,000.
Strangely enough, it was Burns's easygoing way of managing his affairs that gave me my opportunity of going to Singapore. I had been in New York, making my plans and saving my money, but I didn't feel that I had enough to start out on the venture. One day I was in Burns's store when he was away, and a sailor came in, hiding two monkeys under his coat. He had smuggled them into the country and wanted to sell them. The monkeys were black with coal-dust, but one of them, I noticed, had pink eyes. That fact interested me and I bargained for them, buying the pair for fifteen dollars. When the sailor left, I found a cake of soap and gave them a bath. The monkey with the pink eyes turned out to be pure white. Those were the days when Jim Corbett was a great favorite, and he had recently become known as "Pompadour Jim." My white monkey had a perfect pompadour on his head. Soon one of the newspapers printed a story connecting Corbett and the monkey. A few days later I sold the monkey for $1,500, and I then had enough money to start for Singapore.
It was in April, 1887, that I left New York on the steamer Glenderrie. I outfitted in London while we lay over there, taking cargo aboard, and, because I was none too sure what material I should need, I confined my outfit to clothes and guns. On the advice of several animal-men, I bought a Winchester 50-110 express rifle that fired explosive ballets. The bullets contained a detonator and enough dynamite to stop any animal in his tracks. My revolvers were a Colt .45 and a Smith and Wesson .38. The passage took seven weeks and during that time I became well acquainted with Captain Angus, who commanded the boat.
When I reached Singapore, I began at once to learn the Malay language, which is spoken with some variations of dialect throughout the Archipelago.
I called on Mahommed Ariff every day and learned as much as possible about the ways and means by which he carried on his business. Eventually I proposed to him that he let me act as his agent in interviewing the captains of some of the boats that called at the port. He agreed to my plan because there were many captains who would no longer do business with him—he had cheated them once too often—and he saw in me a means of resuming trade. We had no written agreement and no understanding as to my commission, but I was content to start work on that basis because it meant experience.
It was customary for the members of the crew of a boat to buy animals, splitting the risk between them, and sell them when they reached European or American ports. Soon after I had reached the agreement with Mahommed Ariff, a German boat came into port and I went out to interview the captain. I found that he had had previous dealings with the Malay and that he had sworn never to buy another animal from him. Finally, he agreed to make some purchases, but he took care to draw up a paper in which he said that he was buying on my representation.
I reported the deal to Mahommed Ariff, but when I went the next morning to deliver the animals, I found that he had sent them to the boat during the night and had collected the money for them. He refused to give me my commission because, he said, the captain was an old customer of his. The boat was about to sail and there was no time to get the captain ashore and settle the dispute. However, I had the written statement signed by him, that the animals had been bought from me, and I surprised Mahommed Ariff by suing him. He was a surprised Malay when I produced the paper in court, and he paid the commission and costs. The result of the suit was that I gained a number of friends and established a reputation.
For the time being, all deals with Mahommed Ariff were off, of course, and so I had to look elsewhere for business. I induced a Malay hadji, who had made a pilgrimage to Mecca, to take me to his home at Palembang, in the island of Sumatra. He was a buyer of animals from the people of his district and, as he did much of his selling through Mahommed Ariff, he hesitated at taking me with him. But I pointed out the advisability of having a European agent—all white men were considered Europeans. The vision of securing more business, without being robbed constantly by Mahommed Ariff, brought him around to my proposition, and we went together to the Dutch General in Singapore. I told the Consul General my plans, and, after I had presented references from the bank, he gave me a passport and a personal letter to the Dutch Resident at Palembang. Then the old hadji and I started off for Sumatra.
This was really my start in the business of animal collecting. At Singapore I had seen enough to know that the work I wanted to do was not simply to sell the animals at a port, but to capture them in the jungle. My main object in going to Sumatra was to live with the natives and learn their methods and language, so that, being at the source of the supply of animals, I could capture and sell with practically no interference from Mahommed Ariff. I was in constant communication with Gaylord, who encouraged me in my idea of becoming a collector; also I put myself in touch with the Australian Zoölogical Society.