For upwards of forty years Abdulla had walked in the way of his Lord. Son of the rich Syed Selim bin Sali, the great Mohammedan trader of the Straits, he went forth at the age of seventeen on his first commercial expedition, as his father's representative on board a pilgrim ship chartered by the wealthy Arab to convey a crowd of pious Malays to the Holy Shrine. That was in the days when steam was not in those seas—or, at least, not so much as now. The voyage was long, and the young man's eyes were opened to the wonders of many lands. Allah had made it his fate to become a pilgrim very early in life. This was a great favour of Heaven, and it could not have been bestowed upon a man who prized it more, or who made himself more worthy of it by the unswerving piety of his heart and by the religious solemnity of his demeanour. Later on it became clear that the book of his destiny contained the programme of a wandering life. He visited Bombay and Calcutta, looked in at the Persian Gulf, beheld in due course the high and barren coasts of the Gulf of Suez, and this was the limit of his wanderings westward. He was then twenty-seven, and the writing on his forehead decreed that the time had come for him to return to the Straits and take from his dying father's hands the many threads of a business that was spread over all the Archipelago: from Sumatra to New Guinea, from Batavia to Palawan.
Very soon his ability, his will—strong to obstinacy—his wisdom beyond
his years, caused him to be recognized as the head of a family whose
members and connections were found in every part of those seas. An uncle
here—a brother there; a father-in-law in Batavia, another in Palembang; husbands of numerous sisters; cousins innumerable scattered north, south, east, and west—in every place where there was trade: the great family lay like a network over the islands. They lent money to princes, influenced the council-rooms, faced—if need be—with peaceful intrepidity the white rulers who held the land and the sea under the edge of sharp swords; and they all paid great deference to Abdulla, listened to his advice, entered into his plans—because he was wise, pious, and fortunate.
He bore himself with the humility becoming a Believer, who never
forgets, even for one moment of his waking life, that he is the servant
of the Most High. He was largely charitable because the charitable man
is the friend of Allah, and when he walked out of his house—built of
stone, just outside the town of Penang—on his way to his godowns in the
port, he had often to snatch his hand away sharply from under the lips
of men of his race and creed; and often he had to murmur deprecating
words, or even to rebuke with severity those who attempted to touch his
knees with their finger-tips in gratitude or supplication. He was very
handsome, and carried his small head high with meek gravity. His lofty
brow, straight nose, narrow, dark face with its chiselled delicacy of
feature, gave him an aristocratic appearance which proclaimed his pure
descent. His beard was trimmed close and to a rounded point. His large
brown eyes looked out steadily with a sweetness that was belied by the
expression of his thin-lipped mouth. His aspect was serene. He had a
belief in his own prosperity which nothing could shake.
Restless, like all his people, he very seldom dwelt for many days
together in his splendid house in Penang. Owner of ships, he was often
on board one or another of them, traversing in all directions the field
of his operations. In every port he had a household—his own or that
of a relation—to hail his advent with demonstrative joy. In every port
there were rich and influential men eager to see him, there was
business to talk over, there were important letters to read: an immense
correspondence, enclosed in silk envelopes—a correspondence which had
nothing to do with the infidels of colonial post-offices, but came into
his hands by devious, yet safe, ways. It was left for him by taciturn
nakhodas of native trading craft, or was delivered with profound salaams
by travel-stained and weary men who would withdraw from his presence
calling upon Allah to bless the generous giver of splendid rewards. And
the news was always good, and all his attempts always succeeded, and
in his ears there rang always a chorus of admiration, of gratitude, of
humble entreaties.
