on
the maps at school, rose before my eyes, and with it came Java, Celebes,
Borneo, and New Guinea, places that were before long to be the objects
of our quest.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE MALAY KRIS IN STRANGE LANDS.

Three days later we were lying in Singapore harbour, and I had one or
two runs ashore to have a good look at the town, with its busy port full
of all kinds of vessels, from the huge black-sided steamer and trim East
Indiaman, to the clumsy high-sterned, mat-sailed, Chinese junk, and long
narrow Malay prahu.

I could have stayed there a month staring about me at the varied scenes
in the bright sunshine, where hundreds of Chinamen in their blue cotton
loose clothes and thick-soled shoes were mingled with dark-looking
Hindoostanees, Cingalese, and thick-lipped, flat-nosed, fierce-looking
Malays, every man in a gay silk or cotton sarong or kilt, made in plaids
of many colours and with the awkward-looking, dangerous kris stuck at
the waist.

I say I could have stopped here for a month, enjoying the change, and
wondering why the Malays should be so constantly chewing betel-nut and
pepper leaves. I learned, too, that there was much to be seen in the
island, and that there were tigers in the jungle near the plantations;
but my uncle said there was no time to waste, and we must get on.

"We don't want civilisation, Nat, or the works of man; we want to go far
away into the wilds."

"But don't you mean to go to Malacca, uncle?" I said. "That is where
so many birds come from."

"I did think of going there, Nat; but I want to get to less-frequented
spots, and I have found to-day a great prahu that is going right away to
the Ke Islands, which will be well on our route to Aru and New Guinea.
The Malay captain says he will take us, and tow our boat behind."

"Our boat, uncle?"

"Yes, Nat; while you have been staring about at the heathen I have been
busy looking out for a boat, and I have found one that I think will do.
Come and see."

I went with him to a creek outside the busiest part of the town, where
the principal part of the people seemed to be fishermen, and here, after
threading our way amongst dozens of clumsy-looking boats, my uncle
showed me one that I should have thought would be the last to suit us.

"Why, you don't admire my choice, Nat!" he said smiling.

"It is such a common-looking thing, and it isn't painted," I replied.

"No, my boy, but it is well varnished with native resin. It