The unwieldy-looking junk was indeed vastly different from anything Jack had hitherto seen afloat. The huge wall-like stern, pierced with many windows, rose high above the forecastle-head of the barque, with the big rudder, looking like a semi-submerged dock gate, abaft of all.
Yet many such craft, larger and smaller, lay among British, American, French, Dutch, and Spanish ships in the harbour, since Singapore, which is situated on an island near the end of the Malay Peninsula, and at the western entrance of Malacca Strait, is the great port of call for vessels bound to the Far East, and its exports of coffee, spices, indiarubber, tin, and many other articles of commerce are considerable.
During the afternoon following the arrival of the 'Alert' at Singapore, a small outward-bound Dutch steamer passed so close that everyone on board was distinctly visible. Among those assembled on the quarter-deck Jack Clewlin recognised Kalli Lal.
'He must be going to Batavia,' the captain said. 'The rascal does not seem to recognise us. Wave your hand, Clewlin.'
The Malay, however, suddenly disappeared down the cabin stairs without acknowledging the greeting.
'You may be sure that he's up to some trick or other,' the old man observed, 'and does not wish to be known.'
The steamer headed away for the distant islands across the strait, and the incident was soon forgotten.
A few days later, however, it was recalled with startling vividness, and in a manner little expected.
Having received orders to proceed to Hong Kong, and filled her tanks and boats with fresh water and fruit, the barque set all her canvas; but while the hands—the Germans being sent ashore—were heaving at the windlass, a boat manned by British bluejackets was seen to be rapidly approaching. In the stern an officer waved the quarantine flag, as if to attract attention.
'I believe they are coming here,' the captain, who seemed much annoyed by the incident, observed. 'What can they mean? My vessel is perfectly clean.'