Across the Equator: A Holiday Trip in Java

by Thomas H. Reid

As our steamer pounded her way out of Singapore Harbour in the early morning, islands appeared to spring out of the sea, and seascape after seascape followed in rapid succession, suggesting the old-fashioned panoramic pictures of childhood's acquaintance. One's idea of scenery, after all, is more or less a matter of comparison. One passenger compares the scene with the Kyles of Bute; another with the Inland Sea of Japan, at the other end of the world. Yet, this tropical waterway is unlike either, and has a characteristic individuality of its own, none the less charming because of the comparisons it suggests and the associations it recalls.

We spent a good deal of our time on the bridge with the Captain, who was courteous enough to point out all the leading points on his chart.

The Sultanate of Rhio lies on the port bow, four hours' sail from Singapore. Glimpses of Sumatra are obtained on the starboard, and on the way the steamer passes near to the Island of Banka, reputed to contain the richest tin deposits in the world. This tin is worked by the Government of the Netherland Indies, with Chinese contract labour; and the revenue obtained is an important factor in balancing the Colonial Budget. It is interesting to note that the Chinese, who have long mined for gold and tin in the Malay Peninsula and Archipelago, were quite familiar with the rich nature of Banka's soil two hundred years ago, and that tin from this island was then a common medium of exchange in China and throughout the Far East wherever the adventurous Chinese merchant had penetrated.

The visitor landing at Tandjong Priok, the port of Batavia, after his experience of other Far Eastern ports, cannot fail to be struck by the excellence of the arrangements for berthing vessels and for storing cargo. We British people are so accustomed to the idea that our ports are the best and our trading arrangements unequalled that we are astonished when we discover that our shipping and commercial rivals know how to do some things better than ourselves, and that all wisdom is not to be found within the confines of England and among the people who are proud to own it as their place of birth. Our Far Eastern ports owe their supremacy to geographical position almost entirely. We have realised that during recent years in Singapore, and in our haste to correct the mistakes of former officials and residents, the Straits Settlements paid rather heavily when they expropriated the Tanjong Pagar Company which owned the wharves, docks and warehouses. Tandjong Priok may not handle the shipping that Tanjong Pagar does, but if they were called upon to do so, we have not the least doubt that our Dutch neighbours would rise readily to the occasion.

There is a Customs examination at Tandjong Priok. In our own case, it was a mere formality, the new duty on imported cameras not applying to our well-used kodak, since it was being taken out of the country again. But we could not help contrasting to the disadvantage of Singapore the examination of Chinese and other Asiatic passengers. Theoretically, in Singapore, there is no Customs service. It is a free port, and so, theoretically, one may land there free of vexatious examinations, such as one experiences at some Continental ports or on the wharves at San Francisco. But, as a matter of fact, they who have occasion to walk along the sea front in Singapore may see Asiatic passengers at any of the landing places turning out their baggage in sun or rain, while chentings—the hirelings of the rich Chinese Syndicate which "farms" or leases the opium and spirit monopolies—examine it for opium or spirits. There is no proper landing place, absolutely no proper arrangements for overhauling baggage, with the result that these poor Asiatics are subjected to examination under conditions that are a disgrace to a place which arrogates a front place in the seaports of the world.

They do things better at Tandjong Priok.

There is a brief journey by train to Batavia, and there the visitor, having handed over his baggage to the care of the hotel runners at Tandjong Priok, ought to take a sado for conveyance to the particular hotel he has selected. The word sado is a corruption of "dos-a-dos." The vehicle is drawn by a small pony, and is not comparable with the ricksha for comfort, though the long distances may make the ricksha an impossibility in Batavia.

THE TOWN HALL.