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Not one of my court has touched the wine. A Mohammedan never drinks. Can you say as much for your people?" Then he raised his glass once more to his lips and said quietly, while his eyes twinkled at my confusion: "Tell your great President that Abubaker, Sultan of Johore, drank his health in simple pineapple juice."
This we did without deigning to notice their pathetic gestures, heart-rending appeals and protestations to the "Sons of the Heaven-Born" that they could not lift one hundredth part of such burdens. The Crowning of a Malayan Prince Tunku Ibrahim was just past seventeen when his father, the Sultan Abubaker, chose to recognize him as his heir and Crown Prince of Johore.
With the aid of our glasses the white and red blur farther up the river resolved itself into the streets and quays of the little city of Bander Maharani, the capital of the province of Maur in dominions of his Highness Abubaker, Sultan of Johore.
He recited the glories of the Prophet, the promises of the Koran, and then told of the ancient greatness of Johore, how it once ruled the great peninsula that forever points like a lean, disjointed finger down into the heart of the greatest archipelago of the world, how its ruler was looked up to and made treaties with, by the kings of Europe, of the coming of the thieving Portuguese and the brutal Dutch, of the dark, bloody years when the deposed descendants of the once proud Emperors of Johore turned to piracy, of the new days that commenced when that great Englishman, Sir Stamford Raffles, founded Singapore, down to the glorious reign of the present just ruler, Abubaker.
The Sultan Abubaker named the village in honor of his dead Sultana, and here, close down to the bank, was the palace of his nephew the Governor, Prince Sulliman.
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