There was a dumbfounded silence as they recalled where they were, and that I was their host.
“I am sure we do dreadfully foolish things,” I went on sweetly, “but now you have got a colony of your own, you can show us what to do and how to govern natives—and yet this place seems full of happy, prosperous people of many nations. Even you Germans seem to do nicely.”
There were hasty good-nights and departures. The next day when I met the two captains they apologised for their friend, and put it down to “wheesky-soda.” I said it was of no consequence—and, really, what did that youth’s opinion matter?
I seem to know scores of people—how, I know not. I went to a gala dinner, New Year’s Eve, danced vigorously at a ball, sang “Auld Lang Syne” with every one else, with joined hands, as the old year went out. People are most friendly, kind, and amiable—who they are I have not grasped. I have been at the Cricket Club Pavilion, and watched most interesting and amusing water sports from the balcony of the other club-house, which overhangs the sea. All the élite of Singapore were there: smart ladies, the Governor and suite, Lord Beauchamp, fresh from British New Guinea and his Australian Governorship, and I don’t know who all. Wright and a pleasant man called Harrison looked after me. I never saw a more interesting, amusing, or pretty sight than these sea sports. We lay in long chairs, had cool drinks and cigarettes, and I laughed till I was sore at that item where a long, greased pole projected from the bow of a vessel with a prize at the end of it, and competitors had to walk that greased pole to get it. Of course, after wild
