February 7th.—I was awakened this morning by a voice, proceeding from the corridor, wildly vociferating, “My money! I want my money!” It was an American traveller who had been robbed at the hotel of the sum of eleven thousand dollars. He had gone down for breakfast, and when he returned some minutes later, he found the drawer forced and his money gone. The police was summoned, and his apartment turned upside down. The portfolio was found out under the mattress, and one of the boys, serving at the hotel, confessed to the robbery, and was marched off to gaol. I saw a constable dragging the culprit by his long tail, whilst the whole household regaled him with blows and kicks.
CHAPTER CXIV
FROM SINGAPORE TO SUEZ
February 9th.—To-day we take our passage on the Laos. A Prussian officer, with an unpronounceable name, who was stopping with us at the hotel, came on board to see us off. He had just returned from a tour in Sumatra, where cannibalism still exists, and narrated to us, with Teutonical phlegm, his experiences among man-eaters. In that barbarian country the tribes engaged in war eat their prisoners. Those who slaughter them are also risking their life, for if one single drop of blood falls upon the executioner, he is devoured in his turn. This officer brought back from Sumatra the head and the hands of a man who had been eaten in his presence. Ugh—the horror!
The Laos is a veritable floating palace. There are about one hundred first-class passengers on board. I found some old acquaintances from the Salasie, Melle. Jeanne Mougin amongst them, merry and pleasant as ever. She threw herself stormingly upon my neck; I was very pleased, in my turn, to have such a gay companion during our crossing. The steamer included among its passengers a nuncio of the Pope, a Pole, Zalessky by name, a high personage of the Church, who will soon be appointed to the rank of Cardinal. He inhabits Kandy and is now making the round of his diocese. Monseigneur, as he is called on board, wears a broad violet waistband over his black cassock. He is awfully nice, without a particle of bigotry. He told me, as we paced up and down the long deck, that he had been very fond of society in the days of his youth, and that it had been extremely hard for him to take final vows and to part with his moustache.
February 12th.—After dinner everyone who had pretensions to music played or sang in the salon. The wife of a French officer, who was returning to Toulon after having ended his military service in Cochin-China, favoured the company with arias and cavatinas. The lady is very smart and elegant, but her warbling does not suit her plumage, her musical gifts not being of an extraordinary order. At first she was somewhat nervous and, in her agitation, dropped all her notes. Another would-be prima donna, an old hen that imagined that she could crow, and whose singing would make the dogs howl, with many simpers began to squeak love songs as high as she could reach, with a voice particularly discordant with tune. She accompanied herself on the piano, and thumped the poor instrument enough to destroy the keys. Her performance put my teeth on edge, and I cast her no tender glances; but my neighbour, a meagre exalted German lady, went into raptures, showing the whites of her eyes and repeating, “Famos, colossal!” A pretentious and bad pianist took her place, and massacred, with the greatest assurance, one of Chopin’s most beautiful compositions. After the pianist a young girl sat down at the piano, whose musical gift didn’t go further than “La prière d’une vierge.” After two hours of such anti-musical performance, the salon emptied little by little, and her solo was executed, so to speak, to empty seats.
February 13th.—We arrived at Colombo this morning, and immediately took passage on the Armand Behic an ocean liner sailing to Suez from Australia. We have abandoned the Laos to avoid the quarantine at Bombay, where the ship was to stop. Nearly all her passengers passed over on the Armand Behic. There were many Australians and Japs on board and some French officers who are returning from Tonkin, very pale and suffering, whilst the Australians are all blooming with health. There were different sets, of course, among a throng of four hundred passengers. There was the “gay set,” who got up plays and dances on board, the “cultured set,” the “musical set,” etc., etc.
A concert with tombola is being got up on board for the benefit of the families of the sailors who have perished at sea. A subscription has been started amongst the first-class passengers. I consented to take part in the concert and to play a solo on the concertina. Active preparations are made. The piano of the salon has been screwed down to the floor, the piano of the second-class was carried out on the deck, which is transformed into a veritable concert-hall.
February 14th.—In the afternoon we all went to draw the lottery. A jolly French colonel took upon himself to be auctioneer at the tombola. He presided with extraordinary gravity, hammer in hand, and kept the whole company alive by puffing his wares unblushingly. The programmes of our concert, painted by one of the Australian lady-passengers, were sold by auction, 12 francs each; the bids rose finally to 40 francs. Our concert yielded about 1,500 francs. The evening wound up with a ball. Between the dances tea and all sorts of refreshments were being carried round by sailors. I had no notion of the hour and found it was three o’clock when I got to bed.
February 15th.—The Chinese element has disappeared on board, but in return, the number of Hindoos, Malays and Arabs have increased. They are all on the fore and aft of the ship, piled up on heaps of luggage.