Tilly and Valentine found me there. ‘This air, it’s so sticky, don’t you think?’ said Tilly. She lifted her petticoats and flapped them into the wind. ‘Tilly!’ I cried. ‘You’ve got no knickers on!’ ‘It’s delicious,’ she said. But Valentine shook her head. ‘You won’t like it when we’re ashore. Your thighs will stick together when you walk.’ I covered my ears. Those two could talk about the rudest things. As we steamed towards the town of Batavia we passed hundreds of small islands. Some were no more than a single palm tree standing up out of the sea quite by itself. When we passed through the entrance to the harbour, Batavia came into view. Dark green hills dotted with elegant mansions rose on either side of the town. A rickety boat pulled alongside the steamer and we all squealed when we discovered we were going to take the journey ashore in a sampan. Batavia was nicer than Surabaya had been but people still stared at us as we travelled through the town in open carriages.
