Sitting under the Sultan’s own manual punkah and sipping whiskey water, Sir George Porter was something to behold. Boldly dealing in fabrics, silk and gorgram, paper, paper fans, silk stockings and ivory, and bragging about the village of Singapore, Sir Thomas Stanford Raffles, and his queen, Her Royal Highness Victoria, he went on and on with wondrous detail. He seemed as if he would never stop. He talked about Raffles spending his last pound on a swamp, where he envisioned a splendid city. “Along the river, the Esplanade was a better place to build a house than over the swamp, or living in roomah rackits, as somebody called rickety tenements, or raft houses, and keeping the rift-raft away from the Polo Club. The streets of Singapore are lighted; for the first time, there are a few lamps, with a single glass in front, so the light is of little use. And Mr. Purvis’ godown got broken into!” Sir George noted every detail. He could see the bright side of even the worse storms. Wherever he landed….in Jolo, Bencoolen, Calcutta, or Malacca….he spread the gospel of the Tiger Club, Flint Street and Battery Road, of gambling and Freemasonry. Taking there his station under the Sultan’s punkah, he obviously didn’t fear the Spanish.
Bordering on the sublime, the exotic exposure of white skin displayed by the Victorian-gowned pair astonished everyone. The display tantalized men who literally believed in a paradise filled with beautiful damsels. So close and within easy reach, the Houris from the Koran “with large dark eyes, like pearls hidden in their shells,” came alive. Their imagination supplied the rest. They would engage in Holy wars in order to obtain such a dream, but here was something better than dying a martyr’s death. These “virgins” arrived aboard a British schooner.
Exposed to every licentious eye, the folds of their snowy, white bosoms were held by stays cut low and round. It would’ve been more appropriate for evening than morning; but being half way around the world from home and the dashers of England’s (to use a haughty word) haut monde, the two women needn’t have feared criticism. That was, assuming they never heard or understood the native jeers, “Whores! Whores!” These jeers, so intensely coarse, were alternated with words of adoration and awe. So strikingly incongruent, it flattered the two of them. They had no idea they owed an apology.
For weeks, they had been cooped up in stuffy quarters. Since they were the only two women on board, Sir George had limited their movement. He knew Amelia reveled in attention, while her maid only felt safe in their cabin. Amelia’s actions often bewildered her servant. However, the differences between them fluctuated from day to day. Either one of them could find the slightest excuse for a headache or, on a whim, wear rouge. It was Amelia who artificially pushed up her breast.
Native outriggers with green, yellow, and red striped sails circled the schooner. From everywhere came sons of Sulu. For a few coins even the most civilized forgot restraint. Amelia pandered them and caused pandemonium by throwing Mexican silver dollars into the water. She appeased the begging and prompted a brawl, as several men dove for a single coin. Each time a diver surfaced with one of her coins, Amelia expressed her delight by clapping, muffled by her tanned leather gloves. Some part of her yearned for this, because her high spirited nature matched her wildest dreams.
While she waited for her bay Sugar to be lowered into an open boat, Amelia amused herself at the expense of the crowd. The expanse of her vision seemed filled with smiling, gawking people. They surged forward and followed her by the hundreds, old and young by generations. As the pace of the day quickened, her agitation grew; her temper shortened. She and her maid would continue to provoke susceptibilities. Those who were too old to play, as spectators, criticized the performers.
Even before leaving England, Amelia knew of “Moro Fire,” and the “corsairs of the East.” She, however, never intended to go to the Sulus, nor thought that she would be welcomed with such unabashed enthusiasm. Once a true Christian, she wanted to serve God. She first traveled to China to place a Testament into as many worthy hands as possible. But among the Chinese, journeying over potholes and ruts, she never felt at ease with what she found. The causes of her shock rested in her soul. As she got use to the shocking wretchedness (as one can get used to anything), she became lonely. Generally, compared to England, China was cold. To her, it was also twisted and grotesque; and the straining sinews of the cities gave little cause for rejoicing.
Throughout the Middle Kingdom, along unevenly paved streets, here and there, she ran across gambling houses and opium dens. But there was a greater test of faith. No one pretended that preaching the gospel where it was forbidden would be safe. Missionaries in China risked their lives. In some places, their mere presence supposedly disturbed the equilibrium of wind and water and brought disaster to the community. From altars everywhere rose smoke from incense. These early missionaries had to live with the dangers and the inconvenience to which the superstition of their neighbors subjected them.
To Amelia, China seemed incomprehensible. Spreading the light of the Gospel seemed impossible to her. Though often gentle and patient, even veterans of the mission field couldn’t mask their disappointment. Trials permanently marked their faces. They were often faced with darkness, so thick and black that they couldn’t enjoy the sunshine. No one failed to be awed by the fact that China had a population of 400,000,000. For a population that huge, there were only a half dozen missionaries. The very idea of this greatly contributed to Amelia’s feelings of inadequacy. She quickly realized that she didn’t belong in mission work, a calling in China marked by persecution, bloodshed, and martyrdom. Terrified by the customs, by the manners, by the barriers she faced, she decided she would rather live with bandits and buccaneers and found a home with the wicked.
So she garnered all of her courage and strength, and gathered all of her things (a few comforts from her homeland that all missionaries took with them), and fled by mule cart, wheelbarrow, sedan chair, etc to Guangzhou and Canton. By then, the streets, swarming with people, exhausted her. She was stared at, hooted at, grinned at by coolies and rickshaw pullers, shaggy dogs, and dirty children. She fled dead cats, decayed fish, and rotten cabbage. There were always beggars laying in wait for her. Her presence created a circus. She lived in a fish bowl. She was worshipped; she was mauled. She hated it. But she soon ran into other foreigners and felt relieved.
Bumping into her English sea captain saved her life. He had chosen the sea over a wife, a wicked and abandoned woman, unworthy of a respectable man. The young missionary naturally smote him. Then giving her some tobacco for which she seemed quite overjoyed, he fixed his affections on her. This led to a free berth on a ship as comfortable and well appointed as any boat in the east.
The arrangements Sir George thus made with Amelia were bold. It was out of character for him. He amazed himself and felt amazed that Amelia also seemed attracted to him. There soon came the rush of feelings that resulted in a partnership. It left him not so much in love as surprised. Under her corset, and all the brickramming and bone-stiffening that generally came with tight lacing, he found a soft and yielding waist. Entered then into his life a waist as Nature intended. The waists he had know before had been as hard as a whalebone. But here was a woman who not only looked as if she came out of a fashion book but was not as you would expect one of those dear kind silly thoughtless loving lovely fools. Therefore she became worthy of all of his attention. He was willing to give her anything; but she never appreciated him enough. Sometimes, he complained; other times, he exploded with rage.
Her mass of hair, her tiny waist, and her high heels etc., soon became part of his life. Stays that most women wore and dresses with laces in the back gave him fits and dispelled the laughable notion that he had nimble fingers. He often gave up. In order to survive, he hired a lady’s maid from Singapore. Here was someone to keep Amelia company. She quickly became part of the family.
Sir George honored Amelia and pledged his fidelity; but she was realistic and believed that fidelity among married sailors was impossible. Rather than his heart, she only asked for a share of his business. As far as Sir George was concern, while at sea (and as far from home as possible) he could pledge anything and not lose a thing.
Amelia was rather proud of Sir George and glad she never felt that he brought her on board for his amusement. She had an accurate picture of colonial problems. She openly believed that it was Britain’s duty to possess colonies and to see that the tropics, ruled by whites, were given the best possible government. Anthropological and ethnological facts interested her. She knew how to read and write and loved to teach. Practically speaking, she kept a diary, listened well, and preceded to write about what she saw and heard. F ew details escaped her comment. At the same time, her appearance seemed beguiling. Full of folly, she was a disorderly woman with daring habits. As for Sir George, he fully intended to one day take her back to England and make her his lawful wife.
Once away from Jolo, she had an opportunity to write an explanation why she shed so many tears over the loss of her horse. Truthfully, the replacement the Sultan gave her didn’t help. Her grief was still intense. In her diary she wrote about the pantaloons, waistcoats, jackets, sashes and turbans the men of Jolo wore….”gaudy, showy, embroidered, and otherwise ornamented….skin-tight below the knees, and loose above.”
Randy Ford
